August 12, 2009

My New Personal Antichrist

Packing.
Hypothetical: If there were to be a subjective ideal of my Antichrist it would be packing. Yeah, you heard me right, it would definitely be packing.

I hate packing. Passionately. I hate unpacking. I even hate the boxes with advertisements of booze that I put my things into. Staring at a cheap scotch logo makes me realize I'd rather be sitting drinking the scotch, not putting my pens, paper and pencils into the box with the cheap scotch logo on it. Packing is insanity, it is the Antichrist.

I dream about a day where I am incredibly wealthy (by incredibly I really mean the day where I can afford the cost of cable) and that day, when I am incredibly wealthy, sitting on my second-hand recliner drinking a cold soda, watching the most recent episode of Robot Chicken (previously recorded) and I'm getting ready to move, I will pay for people to put my stuff into boxes. The boxes of with logos of cheap liquor. I will not have to organize all of the stuff myself. I do not enjoy staring at the cheap liquor logo longingly wishing I could sip on it and all of my stuff would magically appear organized into boxes.


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Part II:
Songs that get me through 14 hr workdays

I spend a lot of time thinking about other things while I am doing mindless obligatory work-related activities. When I'm covering raw chicken in tangerine dressing and seasoning the pieces with onion powder and johnny's seasoning salt or when I am staring out the window looking at the beautiful islands--pictured here----------------->

I am thinking about a lot of random stuff. Mostly about songs that I can idenitify with, because I am a hip egotist. The songs are as follows:
-Le Tigre-TGIF (being the only female sometimes makes me realize I lovelovelovelove my vagina. I do not want to talk about plowing an attractive person or feel bad for not knowing electrical/boat maintenance. Coming home and listening to this song makes me so happy.)

Ice Cube-It was A Good Day (which I find strange. There is NOTHING in this song I can personally identify with, however, somehow, it stretches beyond a part of the Black-American experience. Or maybe, I'm just an unaware ass. Either way, I enjoy this song and won't feel bad for it.)
And mostly, this song:


1 comment:

Toaster Strudel said...

Seriously. Packing sucks. I still haven't unpacked the suitcase I used when I went to Seattle last month because it's that much of a pain in my ass, haha.