"flustered" and "mustard" rhyme

Saturday, February 20, 2010

- I went to Starbucks the other day and real casually asked the baristo (he was a guy) if there was any VIA samples to be had (go HERE for my thoughts on Via). In a moment of extra brazenness, I brought my dog in to the shop, which is uncleanly and illegal on paper. In actuality, if he was going to get dog germs in the store, so was I because I’m covered in ‘em 24/Sevs because he licks my face like it’s a Loehmann’s clearance rack and he’s a young, semi-stylish single mother looking for something to wear in to The City on his night off. Whateva, that’s my fam.

-I’ve been working on an Anna Nicole impression. Or rather, I have been refining the Anna Nicole impression I’ve always done. This, like all of the impressions I do, is absolutely useless as she is dead and no one who needs someone who does an Anna Nicole Smith impression is looking to me to do it. Besides, I really am not comfortable making fun of Anna because she’s my idol (for real. My IDOL.) and I would never be mean about her. On the realest tip, I don’t think there’s anything to be mean about that makes you a terrible person less than it is funny. It’s just wrong. America’s princess is dead, y’all! :(

- I heard Yogurtland got sued because apparently they don’t meet California State standards for what “yogurt” is, meaning they lack the right amount of cultures. No offensies, but I’ve never seen anyone in Los Angeles rewarded for having culture, and I don’t think it’s time we start bullying delicious treats. And frankly, California and their “standards” can shove it because we’re living in a place where the Terminator is the governor and Saint Monica (let’s speak English about that hell hole) won’t allow a subway system because they’re afraid of crackheads and hobos like a bunch of 12th grade girls lost Downtown in their Catholic school uniforms. Mmmm. Yoglandies is off the chain in my mouth. Also, I don’t even care if they have rats running across the topping trays at night. I will always love Yogs. Always love it. And frankly, I suspected that they didn’t “clean out the machines at night” or “refresh the toppings daily,” but it sure as hell didn’t stop me from eating something that cost only 30 cents an ounce.
I remember the first time I went to a self-serve yogurt place and I saw the sign “35 cents an ounce” and I was like “Haha, what if that store sold weed? Or cocaine? Or kettle corn? That would be terrible and awesome.” But that was back when I was a really big drunk, so like, duh.