I just realized I have now made it over two months of daily posts without a miss. I should probably try getting to gym every day for 63 days, but you wouldn’t appreciate reading posts about how many reps I did to blast my glutes. (It was four by the way.)
How can you support me? Three ways!
- First, on the right hand side, I have advertisers that spend cash to be here. Their sites rock, and others I have turned down because they didn’t, in fact, rock. Click on their links and check ’em out.
- Second, keep talking! Recently I have been asking for your feedback, and you’ve been gabbing like a bunch of spastics at a candy convention. I appreciate your comments, and I encourage you to do more. Even if what you have to say isn’t funny or clever. Because it probably isn’t.
- Third, tell a friend. If what I do turns you on (I don’t mean that way, but if I do turn you on in that way, that is not unappreciated) make sure to tell everyone you know to check out my site. The boring chick in the cube next to you, the dude that has the open v-neck sweater at the club with too much chest hair, the aesthetician who rips out your butthole hair, that hot chick in church, or even your dry cleaner (although I don’t think I relate well to Vietnamese).
Lastly, and I’m not saying this to get attention, but it’s true. I was getting my hair cut on Thursday, and there’s a Chik-Fil-A near the haircut place. It’s actually the only one in Chicago, and just opened up. Anyway, one of the things I do after my insanely expensive haircut is get Chik-Fil-A to go and jump on the subway.
I felt so goddamned depressed (and I have no idea what about) that I nearly burst into tears walking to the subway, and I actually had this thought.
I’m not good enough to eat Chik-Fil-A.
I also immediately saw the humor in it, and how absurd it was. Obviously I’m good enough for crappy fast-food, but the sadness was real. It was a strange situation – to be both laughing at the insanity of my thought, but also to be feeling the weight of the pain.
Now, Saturday, I feel I AM good enough for Chik-Fil-A. Maybe not Steak ‘n Shake, though. They use real plates!
KarolineRiskowski says:
Those are fightin’ words. My husband and I were damned excited when we got Steak ‘n Shake in Austin.
nulsenjb says:
@KarolineRiskowski Agreed. Any place that offers a side of dipping cheese for your fries is great.
D.J. Paris says:
@nulsenjb @KarolineRiskowski Is this a rare thing, James? I feel that cheese dipping is pretty common. But I am glad that awful spaghetti hotdog place is only in Ohio. Nasty.
D.J. Paris says:
@KarolineRiskowski Wait – you grew up with Steak ‘n Shake! You should not be that impressed.
BitingLife says:
I’m so freaking jealous that you have a Chick-Fil-A. I spent my freshman year of college in North Carolina and there was a Chick-Fil-A ON CAMPUS… Best year of my life.
D.J. Paris says:
@BitingLife Wow. I’m just glad you didn’t have a Del Taco nearby, because clearly you do not have a distinguished palate.
Kristina says:
Hope you’re feeling better!
D.J. Paris says:
Thanks Kristina! And, no I’m not. And I blame you. You stink!
Kristina says:
@delfinparis Of COURSE it’s my fault. Probably because I’ve never commented before, which is mostly because I think of things to say, type them out, second-guess myself and decide they’re not relevant/interesting/funny enough to warrant the internet space, and delete them. And your life is therefore less complete without my convoluted, narcissistic input (such as this).And now, in order to deviate from my standard routine, I’m going to push the button without rereading…
D.J. Paris says:
I get this a lot. People thinking their comments aren’t funny or good enough. Just write, dammit! I’ll judge it, sure, but I promise it will be entertaining as I dress you down.