At the head shop today, my co-worker, Richard, ordered me to go home, chill out and watch the Olympics. He had orders from me to go to the best taqueria in town, located inside a sketchy but awesome mercado, home to a metal, paint-flaking chicken machine that is most likely a decade older than I am. For the cost of two quarters or four bits, you get the chicken to loudly bawk bawk bawk and turn on its metal rod as it lays an egg that most likely contains a small plastic fairy with a birth defect of the face.
So of course I held up my end of the deal but you can't watch the Olympics alone. Enter Ryan Talbot who, appropriately (see his MySpace if you don't get the punchline) makes a better door than a window. I just had to poke him now and again sharply with one of three remotes that operate the one television I own that is merely hooked up to a PS2 that plays DVD's like it's scratching on a turntable. I wish I could hook up the DVD player but we're lucky the PS2 is hooked up. My Mom gets big ups for that and knowing what input and output and coaxial mean. *Insert Peanuts adult speak here*
We both thought the interview Bob Costas did with President Bush was stellar. Mostly because Bob Costas is so cool that he was just slightly above asking Dubya how to spell "cat" because clearly our leader was terrified the Chinese were going to dump a crap ton of Sesame Chicken in his bed while he was away, trying his hardest, clenching the air (he didn't even think to bring his own pencil), announcing that "America has no problems" and "China should just accept religion." We also got a nice shot of a replay in which Prime Minister Putin stood in front of a tortured Mrs. Bush with his ass in her face while in conversation with her husband.
Note: Beverly Hills Chihuahua will be coming to a theatre near you October 3rd. You should probably check for midnight showings and buy tickets ahead of time.
Just so you know, this paragraph would have been really funny and about Michael Phelps but a gag order on ha ha's about the famous, alleged oily bo hunk swimmer has been put in place by Ryan "Goobleygook" Talbot, who can't even get slang correct. "This paragraph is harder for me to read than it is to understand my mumbling,"--Ryan Talbot.
*cough*
Words that are awesome at the Olympics so far:
*Breaststroker
*Titular
*Wingspan
*Stroke
*Lengths
*Peirsol
*Heat
*Ready Room
If anything else good happens, I'll let you know. I mean, other than Ryan re-attaching the chain to the thing that makes my toilet flush. Also, Papa Johns doesn't mind if you tip them in quarters.
