Sunday, April 20, 2008

I can ride my bike with no handlebars, no handlebars, no handlebars

I'm taking a break from article writing. Normally, I'd just, you know, not write any articles before taking a break, but today I've already written TWO. I know. Who am I? The thing is, they weren't exactly mentally taxing. One of them was "How to Play Beer Pong Overtime," which . . . yeah, doesn't require that many brain cells.

It finally got warm enough to turn the heat off, but I think I've gotten a little overzealous with the windows. Just because it's semi-warm outside does not mean I need to open every window in the apartment, and yet . . . that's what I keep doing. And then suddenly it's like 10 degrees in the apartment and I have to crawl under my comforter to get warm. This story has no point, really. I'm just typing.

At dinner last night, I told Heidi that when I'm in a restaurant, I like to make up stories for each of the waiters and waitresses. I know the stories I come up with aren't accurate, but I like to pretend they are. It's just that I want to know which employees are secretly in love and which ones are strippers on the side and which ones bang in the storage room when their shifts are over.

Conversations With My Roommate!

Heidi: Um, they just put their baby carrier on the floor. And there's a baby in it.
Me: Is that allowed?
Heidi: I don't think so.
Me: Eh, just slide it under the table out of the way.

And then, you guys? This baby at the next table puked all over the place. I was all, "Heidi, don't turn around," but she did. Luckily, I am immune to sympathy puking because this one time when I was babysitting, the kid I was watching puked in a bucket while he was sitting on my lap. I think he got some puke on my pants. You see? This is why I maintain that the most effective method of birth control when you're a teenager is babysitting.

So I've pretty much given up on trying to make this post make sense at all. Could you tell? Meh, whatever, let's keep going, shall we?

Conversation With My Roommate From Like An Hour Ago:

Me: Hey! The birds are back on the porch, maybe they'll do it again.
Heidi: I hope so.
Me: Watch as the male bird's feathers get all big and fluffy.
Heidi: And the female just sits there like, "will you get on with it already?"
Me: Seriously, she's got stuff to do. She can't wait around all day for his tiny bird penis.
Heidi: She's busy.
Me: Did you know that birds keep their bird penises tucked up inside their bird bodies until they use them?
Heidi: Really?
Me: Yes, it's so they're more aerodynamic when they're flying.
Heidi: Are you making this up?
Me: I don't think so, I read it in a book once.

I could go Google it, I guess, but I'm pretty sure it's true. Even though the book I read it in was a VC Andrews book. Which I read when I was like 12. Why I was allowed to read these books at ANY age, I have no idea. Um. Anyway. Happy Sunday.


  1. Was it "Flowers in the Attic"? Because that's definitely one that no one should EVER read. *shudder*

  2. steph - I have Flowers in the Attic on DVD - totally creepy movie.

    BTW - birds dont have penises or any type of external sex organs. They have a cloaca - for all things poo, pee. Basically a hole on both birds and they "swoosh" the fertilzer from the girl hole to the boy hole. Its called a "cloacal kiss". Thats why turkeys/chickens are bred artificially, because them having sex is a HUGE ordeal that damages the breast meat. Wow that preveterinary degree came in handy for once!

  3. p.s It resembles a winky butthole.

  4. I feel like I just learned so much. Like . . . too much, really.