Good Times!

He was annoying though. It’s cool. It was on my way into a Just Us, where I purchased a soy latte. It was delicious, by the way. It’s a fairtrade cafe, which means many of its patrons are thoroughly granola. I’ve been a mindful shopper, like these crunchy folk, for about a year now. The origins of my shopping habits however, are less than moral. It’s justification, see. It was a Matt & Nat bag that started it all. I normally wouldn’t shell out $115 for a bag. That’s gotta be like, 100 pennies or something; no joke. But this company is all vegan and junk; cruelty free. I had to support that, you know? My most recent purchase that adhered to this philosophy was a pair of $174 Del Forte jeans. Also, a crapload of HT Naturals t-shirts and tanks. And on top of this, I’ve been eating a pooload of LÄRABAR. Those things are like, $2 a piece homie, that’s not cheap when you’re eating them for every meal like I am. Well, I just lied, I’m certainly not eating them for every meal. Stop being so ridiculous, exaggerating everything like that.

So, about the entry title. Just Us is a cafe/theater. It hosts events and special viewings, and such. Well, I guess a busload (should I say shitload? Just to complete the set?) of kids had just finished watching a movie, for school I suppose. And I imagine they rented out the theater. They were all streaming out one door, I opened the other for myself to walk through. I wasn’t going to waste my time waiting for the line of hoodlums to end. And hey, two doors. Anyways, I let the door close behind me. It hit a kid. He said, “ow” really loudly.

I didn’t turn around.

I don’t like children.

And I don’t manage money well, apparently.

But I’m a good person. I support companies with heart. With my heart. I have heart.

I think another point I was going to try to make was that those intensely vegan people, they piss me off. There was a girl in the shop with dreads. She was a pretty girl. That hair is unnecessary, and the cloth bags. I get it.

I also purchased “The Yiddish Policemen’s Union”, for no reason save for my admiration of the cover.

SYTYCD has started with the partnerings, as I hope you all know. I’m supporting Joshua and Katee, and Kherington and Twich. I’d say Joshua’s the favourite though. Fairwarning: I talk about this show enough to make myself sick.

I need the dance.

Is it bad that I have Love in This Club as my ringtone? I feel quite badly about it. But I. I couldn’t stop myself.

I had a title that contained the word, “whom”. Not quite sure of the appropriateness of the word in regards to its use in this entry’s title, however, I changed it. I think that’s how you can tell if a person is a risktaker or not, by observing if they unabashedly throw around the word “whom”. And I think I revealed a little about myself just now.

Moving on to the meat of this discussion. The point, as some would say; I prefer “meat” (that almost reads like I’m saying that some people would say that I prefer meat. Which is funny, because I don’t eat meat! Imagine that! But seriously folks, I just prefer using the word “meat” over “point”). I enjoy baking quite a bit; cooking; videogames. I should say rather, that I enjoy baking, cooking, and videogaming for others. When I make things for these “others”, I like to add personal touches; I pay attention, and put to memory their likes and dislikes. I enjoy surprising them with this knowledge. An example would be a chocolate cake covered with homemade almond icecream and cherries, frozen. An icecream cake, if you will. This, I recently made for a co-worker. Co-worker really likes almonds, cherries, and icecream.

It was when I recently brought BBQ chips and rootbeer (neither homemade, mind you) to a friend with whom (WHOA!) I was about to watch a movie, that it became apparent that this tendency of mine is actually quite creepy. I pulled the chips and bottles out of the bag and friend exclaimed, “BBQ! And LAYS! I love ‘em!” To this, I thoughtlessly (and perhaps a bit too quietly, monotonously) replied with a simple, “I know.” It was when neither of us said a word for about a full minute after this that I realized the truth of things. I have traits common to murderers, and lonely old women. If you are my friend, I will profile you. And use this foreknowledge to prepare for your visit.

Coca Cola. Pepsi. Grocery store brand. Oh yeah, I have all that pop at the ready. And it’s chilled.

For you.

While carousing through the drugstore this morning (which can be quite taxing on the wallet), I walked past a woman whose scent I could only describe as being that of patchouli. Lets ignore the notion that I’m well attuned to picking up notes of patchouli for the moment, and continue on with the story (I use the word story in its loosest sense). It was a pleasant scent, and if I weren’t in such a pensive mindset, and was the type of person who would comment on a stranger’s smell, I would have been inclined to complement her. But this is crazy! And I realized this as that whole scenario was unfolding; the smell shouldn’t be classified as pleasant, it should be classified as inexplicable!

I suppose this isn’t really a big deal. Just an example of this crazy race we’re all a part of. The race to be number one, in all that we do. There’s no need to compete, guys. Work together. Help one another.

But I guess the race I initially meant to refer to there was the more literal, human one.

Smelling like vanilla. Citrus. Beach. Oh, we’re just ridiculous.

Though beach is reasonable, I suppose.