Monday Morning Commute: I’m Fucking Insane for Jelly Beans
I’m fucking insane for jelly beans. What a great time of years, when I can just go up to a register at my local Target-Greens, Rite-Mart, or CVS and buy bags of raw sugar. Little round balls of teeth-rotting goodness. And they’re mad cheap, too. The jelly bean may be the candy that was designed with me in mind. Bless you Jesus Christ for being crucified, because the jelly beans which logically come from the season which celebrates your self-rez. Kudos and jelly beans to you!
Monday Morning Commute. Every Monday I’m going to detail the various things I’m either currently or will be watching, reading, playing, and listening to in the next seven days. It’s Monday. You’ve got a long week of school, work, or compulsive masturbation to get through. Tell me the arts that you’re indulging in, to stave off suicide.
Watching / Team America vs. Team Canada
Last night was a triumph for the existence of the Empire. Long have we been dubbed ill-fit for the ole’ blades of ice and rubber puck sports dominated by Communists and people from the great north who fuck grizzly bears and shower in maple syrup. Sidney Crosby and the Socialists last night got a dose of American Thunder, and I for one was ebullient at our collective victory. If you didn’t see it, a) fuck you and b) just watch this video. Your mind will be blown and you will realize that all the chemically-flooded beef and energy drinks we have been consuming for the past fifty years (I know energy drinks weren’t around back then, again, fuck you) have been leading up to one thing: this win. Sure, it doesn’t count for anything medal-wise, but it was damn sweet.
Eating / Brach’s Classic Jelly Beans
…And so I told my girlfriend if she bought me jelly beans, they damn well better not be spiced. I told her if she bought me spiced jelly beans, I would be apoplectic beyond any measure of reason. I would silently walk out of the house and take a deep walk, where I would convince myself such a slight could only be born out of ignorance and not malice. I would then calmly walk back into the house and shove them down the garbage disposal, still in the package, and continue eating my steak.
Playing / With Myself
Just kidding! Well, I mean, sort of. And isn’t that an impressive rack of lube? That’s Google Image Search for you. But I ain’t playing anything spectacular these days. Despite bitching about the storyline in Mass Effect 2, I’ve been spending all of my gaming hours replaying the game. Aside from that, I stare out into the distance at night, contemplating the beauty which surely is Bioshock 2. Then a single tear-drop stains my face and I say the serenity prayer, dream of the day when I don’t have syllabuses filled with bullshit I don’t want to read, and I’ll get to enjoy it.
Eating / Brach’s Classic Jelly Beans
…but seriously though, none of that funny shit. I don’t want any fucking Mike & Ike or Starburst jelly beans. I don’t need flavors. Enough of that happy horseshit. I want to bite into an egg and feel the sugar flood into my nervous system. I want to begin to feel the crackle and pop of my synapses firing at unhealthy speeds. I want to feel the very enamel begin to burn off of my teeth. Pile after pile of jelly bean shoved into my mouth, my teeth gnashing with gluttony and hate, not enjoying the jelly beans, but needing them.
Reading / A Monarchy Transformed: Britain 1603-1714
One of the more dope ass things I’m reading this semester is the aforementioned book. It’s part of some weird hybrid class that I’m taking that is interweaving historical texts and literature that were published before, during, and after the Restoration. It’s an interesting look at a period of time that found British rule being over turned again and again. It’s well written, and it is easy for someone to get into even without a background in history. It reads more like a non-fiction novel than a boring ass history book.
Eating / Brach’s Classic Jelly Beans
They’re fucking good.
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What are you pack of scallywags up to?