My mom is in town visiting her two horrible children (allegedly). Thank goodness, because if I had to come home to an empty house and cook my own food in this foul mood, I would've curled up on the floor in the fetal position eating dry ramen...WITHOUT the chicken flavor packet. Thanks Momma for the home-cooked meal. It's like being 7 again. I miss 7.
So I watched "Wild Hogs" tonight and it made me feel better. Yeah, it's not the best motorcycle movie around, but it's a darn sight better than that glorious piece de crap Torque or Biker Boyz. Turds. "You know what they call bikers in the E.R.? ORGAN DONORS!" Cripes. And who the hell wears a 3/4 helmet on a sportbike anyway?
Back to me. I felt better watching people motorcycle...there's a light at the end of the tunnel. Drinking Beamish on St. Patrick's Day doesn't hurt, either. Ugh...3 to 6 inches tonight (and I don't mean the fun kind). Yea, twisty roads. Ugh, Ray Liotta. Ugh, Ray Liotta some more. Yea, smooth, Irishy meat in a glass. I will make it through another day. I can't wait to drive the sportbike club ape-shit yelling out "Wild Hogs!" at the top of my lungs. ...I'm my own evil twin.