If you were stranded on a desert island, and all you had to eat were Pop Rocks
I’d been wondering why at work I kept smelling something that resembled wet, dirty socks blowing in the wind, when I finally surmised it might in fact be my iron. I hadn’t cleaned the metal grill thing on it in ages, and had probably been steaming stank into my work clothes every morning for Christ knows how long. Things seem okay so far today, so I’ll keep you posted.
The cable was shut off due to a Comcast bill dispute, flinging me and J. Co to the depths of cable-less living. Seriously, cable is more addictive than any drug or drink since it provides daily, pliable entertainment whenever you want it… provided you’ve paid for it.
The only good part was that it forced me (okay, J. Co, since I couldn’t figure out how to do it for my life) to hook up the VCR and become reunited with some old favorites like "Soapdish" and "Overboard". Good times, good films, noodle salad,
