mynutsitch.com

A couple weeks ago I saw a UFO.  No joke.

I’ve been trying to make sense of it in my normally rather logical and scientific brain but it just isn’t working.  I just can’t think of any logical explanation for a shiny object (roughly the size of a van) hovering in midair for several seconds, suddenly accelerating to a ridiculous rate of speed (traveled probably 1000 feet in less than a second), and then disappearing into thin air. 

Nothing moves like that.

Except maybe Rosie O’Donnell after a hardcore meth binge, being told that there is a bus full of extremely drunk bi-curious college girls wrestling in copious amounts of country gravy a few blocks away.  With more meth hidden in various body cavities.

Yes.  That’s it.  A shiny Rosie disproves the laws of physics in the skies over Beaverton, OR.

Moving on…

Last Friday I basically lost an hour.  I was sitting at work and I think I must have fallen asleep or something, because the time between 3:15 and 4:15 just vanished.

After I left work I decided, inexplicably, to stop at Bed Bath & Beyond.

I spent $440.

I then went home and sat on my couch and don’t remember anything that happened.  I woke up at 1am a bit confused and disoriented and then made my way up to my bed.

When I woke up at 10am I was still exhausted.

What did I get for $440?  A vaccuum cleaner.

I have a perfectly good vaccuum cleaner already.  One that I paid about $130 for less than a year ago.

I’m still trying to decide what the hell I was thinking.  I mean, it was a good deal and all…$440 for a Dyson that sells for $550 is a decent deal, but I think something might be broken in my head.

It’s still sitting in the box on my living room floor.  (The vaccuum…not my head)

Lastly, now I get the feeling that God doesn’t want me to blog anymore.

I was thinking about Jack Palance last week and thought of a funny line I was going to use in a blog, and God killed him a few days later.

Sorry Jack.  My bad.

Now I’m nervous to even think about writing blogs about people.

God, does that mean my genitals are going to die now too?  I know we don’t really ever talk or anything, God, but can you please just let me know about this one?  I’ll manage without Mr. Palance, but I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t do quite so well without my junk.

FYI, God…I’m thinking about blogging about Paris Hilton, Bill Gates, Carrot Top, Bill Engval, our current administration, zucchini, people that don’t use their turn signals, everyone involved in creating and airing those fucking Old Navy commercials, AIDS, people who breed those tiny helpless little rat-dogs, people who own them, and especially the people who feel the need to dress them up in retarded clothes, Tom Cruise and his “church”, people who make the decision to package knives (pocket knives, box cutters, multi-function tools) in that impenetrable plastic bubble packaging that requires a KNIFE to get it out, and clowns.

Just so you know.