Yes, I'm a sack of broken eggs.
Aug. 19th, 2008 11:09 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
katernaterThe vinyl of Let It Bleed is, not unlike a paramasturbatory fantasy, one of those things you take with you into a dark room and work out until all manner of demons inside of you are exorcised. I like to listen to it when I'm alone.
Todd bought me the London LP today. Plus, I've always wanted an excuse to use the word "paramasturbatory" in an entry.
We went out at midnight last night to get House S4, and Dexter S2 on DVD. If you ever want to feel better about the direction your life is going or if, like me, your tastes run toward the mildly masochistic, check out the midnight crowd at Walmart. The lighting in that store never changes, so it's kind of like you're standing at the North Pole experiencing six months of blue-white daylight. And, like the North Pole, Walmart is filled with lumbering white creatures trying to stock up on their winter fat. Not that Todd and I set a very progressive example for our midnight run -- we weren't exactly equipped to pass the Grey Poupon while wearing our very function-tops-form pajama pants. While we waited for a sloe-eyed stockboy to unpack the goods, another customer standing nearby gave me a knowing look and said, "I bet I know what you're waiting for. Gossip Girl, right?"
I felt a little bad about myself.
I mean, I'm sure it's a great show and all, but, seriously, you guys --
-- good taste is nothing if not overt, desperate, and a little more than slightly pathetic once the pictures are developed.
Todd bought me the London LP today. Plus, I've always wanted an excuse to use the word "paramasturbatory" in an entry.
We went out at midnight last night to get House S4, and Dexter S2 on DVD. If you ever want to feel better about the direction your life is going or if, like me, your tastes run toward the mildly masochistic, check out the midnight crowd at Walmart. The lighting in that store never changes, so it's kind of like you're standing at the North Pole experiencing six months of blue-white daylight. And, like the North Pole, Walmart is filled with lumbering white creatures trying to stock up on their winter fat. Not that Todd and I set a very progressive example for our midnight run -- we weren't exactly equipped to pass the Grey Poupon while wearing our very function-tops-form pajama pants. While we waited for a sloe-eyed stockboy to unpack the goods, another customer standing nearby gave me a knowing look and said, "I bet I know what you're waiting for. Gossip Girl, right?"
I felt a little bad about myself.
I mean, I'm sure it's a great show and all, but, seriously, you guys --
-- good taste is nothing if not overt, desperate, and a little more than slightly pathetic once the pictures are developed.
