Andrew is OG internet. He made Pitas and DiaryLand and other things that paved the way for Tumblr. He’s Canadian lol. Anyway I don’t remember where I got this recording of him singing but I bust it out whenever I’m feeling despair-y, so like 9:30 every morning.
So I quit my copywriting job about a month ago and am currently freelancing doing the exact same work except at home, ostensibly while I “figure things out” and “make a bold new career move.”
Just now I found myself googling “what IS cocktail sauce.” Then comparing the ingredients of some cocktail sauce and ketchup in my refrigerator. Then thinking how weird it was that there’s a condiment that is used for only one or two types of food, and why did I even have some? For the three times a year I eat shrimp?
I haven’t left my apartment since … Monday? Sunday? When did I go to the ATM?
I’m really really excited about my new deodorant. The design on the label stopped me in my tracks at Target and I had a hard time deciding which of the three new scents to go with. They all sounded so inspiring!
I haven’t had a chance to try it out yet, though, because the last time I showered was … Tuesday? Saturday?
[This is old but I’m tired of writing new stuff and anyway it’s Star Wars-y.]
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"Princess Leia! You will tell me the location of your hidden rebel base! I bet it’s in your panties!”
"Please don’t use that word."
"That’s it! Bring in … the probe droid.”
"Hang on a sec."
"What’s a matter, princess? Scared of the feelings my probe droid gives you? Titillated by the prospect of being probed real good?”
"Are you trying to do the torture scene with that floating ball with the hypodermic needle?"
"Oh my god. OK. Josh, that’s the IT-O interrogation droid. You’re thinking of the reconnaissance probe droid that was sent down to Hoth. Those were produced by Arakyd Industries. IT-O was designed by the Imperial Security Bureau."
"OK. Well then I’m about to interrogate your Sarlacc pit!”
"So you’re saying my vagina is a cavernous, toothy monster that slowly digests men for a thousand years."
"I … yeah. I mean, right? That’s hot."
"How would you like it if I said your penis was not unlike a dianoga?"
"Oh yeah baby. What’s that?"
"The gross slimy horrible little creature that lives in one of the [first] Death Star’s garbage compactors, feeding on trash like … what was her name? Sapphire? Your girlfriend in college?"