Things we say and do.

I haul my ass out of bed in the morning, i find clean clothes, i forage in the fridge for something more than just condiments and crackers because hey you know that’s all that’s in my fridge these days, Whatever. Then i hop on my hog and do the daily 11 to 13 miles and get bored after or tired of seeing the same people three times in a row that i would really liked to have avoided in the first place. or the cars that zoom by be as i laugh because hey you are are just going to have to brake at that stop light in about ten feet. HAH.

I made a decision that after i run out of any dairy or soy in my house i will no longer be buying anymore. Coconut milk or water. Which common people both are so easy to make…duh. Well seeing as waters already made…yeah.

I look forward to August 31, i will be back with my people of the woods, crammed into a small bench space with people on either side of me invading my territory. Which when they are not there i slowly and surely regain my space. Inconspicously.

Lately i want crab rangoon. i know that when i finally have said rangoonies they will be a complete and utter let down. It’s like not eatting fast food for a long time and then imagining this juicy awesome tasty amazing booger. The pictures on tv and in ads don’t do them justice. SRSLY. So you pull up to the fast food window in anticipation of this foodligious creation. Only to cry after. It will never be the same.

Did i mention i made a canoe? Like..uh.. shit…MANY years ago? And that i love Vermont.

Handi.

Handi.

So if thats not a jumble of thoughts than i dont know what is.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s