Showing posts with label psa. Show all posts
Showing posts with label psa. Show all posts

Tuesday, June 12, 2007

you disappoint me, fast-poo

You're getting smaller, saltier, and more expensive. For example, there's nothing big about a Big Mac. What's up with that? I remember a time when finishing half of a Big Mac was a great feat for me and the damn sandwich lived up to its given name. Now, with a fat and calorie-conscious country, not only do you get less for what you pay for, everything's so damn expensive. Ya see, those idiots at corporate realized that the only way they can make their products socially responsible is to reduce the size; voila, you've got nutritional calories that won't instigate lawsuits from fat people who wanna blame everyone but themselves for their obesity. Now, thankfully the dollar or 99-cent menu is available. A $1.49 Junior cheeseburger deluxe at Wendy's is more affordable than your usual fastfood joint but you can't keep eating those forever.

Saturday, September 09, 2006

when blading, protect your tailbone

I should have stayed home and had some tub of ice cream; instead, my tailbone is aching, left back thigh is burning, and my left hand is scraped. If only I wore my hand guards, my hands would be at least be free! Stupid, stupid, and stupid! Always wear long jeans no matter how hot it is! You scraped your polyester ones, should have known better!

Funny thing is, as I finally got myself together, I saw the passing back of a biker's t-shirt that advertised a chiropractor team. I cracked up. The odd thing is, that chap got off his wheels too and ran the track; so I had another pleasure of seeing his "subtle" advertisement; I think he was trying to reel me in after my fall.

In retrospect, I should have taken the boys' offer to help me to my feet; it would have been a nice way to meet them. But I didn't. I always hated it when people would rush you to get up. Why can't you let me just get to it myself at my own pace?

Friday, September 01, 2006

Boy, bag it up!

Ladies, sperm is bad, bad, and bad! Next time the idiot goes "Come on, it's my birthday!", you say: "My mama told me that any man willing to fuel cervical cancer is an asshole." Lay it on thick. Guilt trips rule! We now finally got a way to turn the finger around! If he calls you ignorant, tell him to take a hike for your own good cuz he doesn't care that you can get pregnant or cancer or worse, both!