Me, erryday.
My kind of hot pockets.
I have one of these in my head.
Hello, lovers.
OK BUT THERE BETTER BE WEED BREAKS
I was all set to do a clever post about RyGos in direct homage to this adorableness from Grambo, but somewhere between the creases in the brow and the pants I realized that would not be happening, but other, more loin-based things would. I’m just gonna roll with it.
OH FUCK, I JUST PICTURED HIS FINE CANADIAN ASS IN A CANUCKS JERSEY…
It’s both vaguely heartening and totally infuriating. I mean, I guess it’s great that there’s a lid for every pot (even ones that smell like boiled cabbage), but this microwaveable-pouch-for-one thing I’ve had going on for the last century or so is growing somewhat fatiguing.
In short, you are awesome, internet boyfriends, but you are WAY too far away.
PS: To be fair, I am also at times kind of gross.
INTERNET BOYFRIENDS, of course!
Made some IKEA shelves my bitch this afternoon, and although I feel like a total pro and impressed the hell out of my roommate, it was sweaty work, and I would acquire and distribute 30 kilos of top-grade ground unicorn horn for a firm back massage from a hot dude right now. Instead, I took a painkiller, puffed some PK, poured a small wine, turned on the fireplace, started some brown rice pasta for my chicken cacciatore leftovers (srsly you guys, OMG) and I’m ‘bout to catch up with last night’s ANTM and later tonight (after a hot bath, methinks), the latest episode of Archer. The weather is absolutely gross out there (I swear I saw snow) so this is just my speed tonight.
Not gonna lie.
(Well, except about the fact that I might have more than one internet boyfriend.)
The burgers are going to get cold!
OH RIGHT. I HAVE NO BOYFRIEND. DAMN.
One PAIR of Donald Glover/Childish Gambino tickets for the Vancouver show!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I fucking LOVE my media friends. Thor Diakow RULES.
And here I was worried about this day.