Someone Is Confused
i've got two words for you:
here are three more:
what the fuck?
posh bagel? this is what i walked past today on my way to work. a store called posh bagel.
posh bagel is what is commonly referred to as an oxymoron. accent on the moron. it's like Splintery Lube. just not a good idea. i mean, when you think posh, right off the bat you're thinking Jews, right?
no.
and bagels? posh? someone is vastly unclear on the concept. the Posh Scone, yes. the Feh Bagel, sure.
the Posh Bagel is where you go to get a bacon-flavored soft roll with artichoke-maple-goat-testicle spread.
sorry. it just irritated me. and i'm still tired after the iditarod.
i must admit, i was pretty pissed and stressy about my entire team slowly flaking away on me like forty year old lead-based paint. by saturday, it was just me and my only remaining iditaroder, kat. when i picked her up, her housemate lisa said comfortingly,
i think you'll have to tell people that you're supposed to be Hunter S. Thompson.
despite this poor start to the day, things rapidly improved. we got to the starting point and there were tons of nutters there. everyone immediately recognized me as HST and congratulated me for racing even though i was dead. i began drinking and basically didn't stop until i collapsed on the green at fort mason.
i'm not sure what else i can say about the event. i'm glad i didn't let the lack of compatriots slow me down. getting soused and heckling tourists is a noble cause.
also, i've memorized the map of africa. it just seemed like it was an important thing to do.
now i can tell guinea from equatorial guinea from guinea-bissau.
