say something about ... yourself!

When you go shit from the indian food, all that gas you're holding back is going to fly forth and coat the inner porcelain brown. Maybe you can sell it as modern art.
 
I don't let fabric go up my ass, I got a wedgie once and asked why women tolerate such nonsense. But yes, I meant when you shat, all the blocked gas is going to explode like an oxygen tank with the cap broken off. Or a Saturn V taking off. Except it has chunks in it, and smells like rotted beef. Not the kind of liftoff you want to achieve, really.
 
Throw stuff at people. It usually helps me feel better.

Found out that one of my bestest buddies finally proposed to his awesome girlfriend. Sadly, I found it out on facebook. When he called him this afternoon, he didn't even mention it but called rather to ask if I was up for a fantastic camping drip of awesomeness with the gang. Deer stalking to follow.
 
Interview in 35 minutes, realized my khakis are 4 inches too short for my ass. Oh well, not taking them off NOW. Slept 5 hours, cranky as hell, want a nap. :(