The thing about hate is that's it's just so exhausting, and these days I'm plenty tired from the insomnia to need any supplement to my sleeplessness. That there are things I hate is inevitable--human nature simply dictates it, you see--but I try really hard not to think about those things, especially since I've been told that when I think about those things my eyes start a-rolling and suddenly my list of friends is two shorter from a moment ago. No, I get no pleasure from hate, but you know who does? My co-worker. He hates the Pittsburgh Penguins SO MUCH he'll sit in my office for hours at a time, spitting vim and vitriol until the tips of his ears and fingers both turn hot pink with unadulterated glee. Sometimes I wish I could hate like that. Mostly, I just hate that I can't each nachos on the beach every god-damned day.
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That photo. Did you take it in heaven?
Eating nachos on the beach = heaven, yes.
Eating nachos, period = heaven, methinks.
However, eating nachos on the beach? Yeah, that transcends heaven... especially if there be a very cold beer somewhere close to hand.
(Also, if I had lovely legs like yours, it wouldn't ruin my day, just sayin'.)
Beach nachos?? My mind is officially blown.
Are those nachos in a basket!?
actually, if i remember correctly, they were served in those asian bamboo steamer trays.
Asian nachos? Huh.
well, puerto rican nachos. technically.
Man those nachos look good! Now I'm hungry. Damn it.
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