A song about chicken. Enjoy!
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
To denounce the evils of truth and love.
I live on the top floor of an apartment complex. In the apartment below mine, there lives a group of three boys. I'm pretty sure I hate them. They always seem like nice people the few times I bump into them, but that doesn't really matter right now.
This group of boys, we'll call them Team Rocket for short, likes to make lots and lots and lots and lots and lots and lots and lots of noise with parties. I've wondered if maybe they're just incapable of sitting and watching TV or browsing online or going outside. Like, some sort of strange disease only college students and Snooki can catch.
Anyway, whenever Team Rocket parties, I imagine it looks like this:
Team Rocket is always playing music from about 6PM to about....whenever they pass out. I'm not sure what kind of music it is, so until I figure out what it is, I'm just going to assume it's dubstep. Normally, these "parties" are just the three of them. I find that very strange and possibly a little gay. Every now and again there is quite a large group down there, though. All the noise and the way it makes my apartment shake is awful. That's not even my actual problem with them, though.
My real, true and selfish problem with Team Rocket is that they give things to the man (Prof. Oak) that lives below them whenever they make any sort of noise, which is all the time. So, Professor Oak gets free beer, all of the time, in return for not reporting them for noise violations and possible underage drinking.
I want free stuff in trade for my silence and suffering, too. Not beer, mind you. I want chicken. Sweet, delicious chicken tenders from the nearby Publix. Having those for dinner every night for free is quite possibly the most wonderful thing that could ever happen. When I get tired of the chicken, I'll ask for something else. Probably Wild Cherry Pepsi. Maybe even Sailor Moon on DVD.
I'm patiently waiting for the next time Team Rocket decides to throw down, because I have a plan for the next morning. I'm going to leave this note on their door:
If I'm lucky, they'll call me to set up a Pokemon Battle, I can hand their butts to them with my prized team, and make some new friends. Better yet, make my own rivals and I'll get to call them all Gary the Douchebag whenever I seen one of them.
Unfortunately, I'm not all that lucky and probably just going to end up with very angry neighbors who think I'm a massive nerd. Oh, well.
Play some terrible music to annoy your neighbors.
With WUB and kisses,
Elizabeth <3
This group of boys, we'll call them Team Rocket for short, likes to make lots and lots and lots and lots and lots and lots and lots of noise with parties. I've wondered if maybe they're just incapable of sitting and watching TV or browsing online or going outside. Like, some sort of strange disease only college students and Snooki can catch.
Anyway, whenever Team Rocket parties, I imagine it looks like this:
Team Rocket is always playing music from about 6PM to about....whenever they pass out. I'm not sure what kind of music it is, so until I figure out what it is, I'm just going to assume it's dubstep. Normally, these "parties" are just the three of them. I find that very strange and possibly a little gay. Every now and again there is quite a large group down there, though. All the noise and the way it makes my apartment shake is awful. That's not even my actual problem with them, though.
My real, true and selfish problem with Team Rocket is that they give things to the man (Prof. Oak) that lives below them whenever they make any sort of noise, which is all the time. So, Professor Oak gets free beer, all of the time, in return for not reporting them for noise violations and possible underage drinking.
I want free stuff in trade for my silence and suffering, too. Not beer, mind you. I want chicken. Sweet, delicious chicken tenders from the nearby Publix. Having those for dinner every night for free is quite possibly the most wonderful thing that could ever happen. When I get tired of the chicken, I'll ask for something else. Probably Wild Cherry Pepsi. Maybe even Sailor Moon on DVD.
I'm patiently waiting for the next time Team Rocket decides to throw down, because I have a plan for the next morning. I'm going to leave this note on their door:
If I'm lucky, they'll call me to set up a Pokemon Battle, I can hand their butts to them with my prized team, and make some new friends. Better yet, make my own rivals and I'll get to call them all Gary the Douchebag whenever I seen one of them.
Unfortunately, I'm not all that lucky and probably just going to end up with very angry neighbors who think I'm a massive nerd. Oh, well.
Play some terrible music to annoy your neighbors.
With WUB and kisses,
Elizabeth <3
Thursday, March 1, 2012
Nope.
Due to my ovaries being on fire, my insides melting, and basically my body rebelling against me, I don't feel like doing this week's "Let's Offend Someone." So, instead here's a picture of one of our Velociraptor Overlords being killed by a Dolphin Rebel.
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