yeahimadork.com

I think I might be dying right now.

I was sitting here, uploading photos, when I noticed that my face felt a little tingly. I didn’t pay much attention, and then I noticed that the tingly feeling turned into a burning sensation. And then it moved down my arms, so I (of course) freaked out and called Kay and told her I was catching on fire from the inside out. (At least that’s how it felt.) My face felt hot, so I went into the bathroom, and watched as my face turned bright red, and my neck soon followed, along with small clusters of red blotchy spots.

I have no idea what’s happening to me. I wonder if I’m supposed to panic or seek medical attention.

Eh.
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So, yeah, the Super Bowl.

Did you see Paula Abdul’s stellar pre-game performance? I’ve never even heard that song, and I’m pretty sure I knew the words better than that pill-popping dope did. That was the worst lip-syncing I’ve ever seen - and I’ve seen some crappy shows.

Kay and DMX throw a big party every year, and it’s always a good time. I was looking foward to it. Particularly, because last year, I finally FINALLY won the stupid racing pool that we do every year. (Here’s the back story on the pool: DMX and his friends did this pool with Cart and IRL racing. They picked drivers, and got points for where their driver placed in the top ten. Over the years, they slowly added nascar races. Up until last year, they only allowed ten nascar races a year, but last year, every nascar race counted. They were so snotty about their pool, and they didn’t want to let me in because I made fun of them for watching open-wheel racing, and called it “fruity Euro racing” and made fun of the drivers and their exotic accents, and because I love Jeff Gordon, and they all hate him. Needless to say, when I finally was let in, I lost every year because I knew nothing about Cart or IRL drivers [still don’t]. Last year, I finally won.) The trophy (oh, yes, there is a trophy) and the winnings are handed out at half-time at DMX’s Super Bowl party, so you can imagine how excited I was to take the trophy and tell all those assholes to suck it as I took their money.

But then guess what happened? Two drunk stupid motherfuckers started a fight at EXACTLY the moment DMX gathered everyone around to announce that I was the winner, and my triumphant moment of victory was stolen from me. Goddammit.

And, just to add insult to injury:

My fucking name was spelled wrong AGAIN.

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Friday, after I posted that little bit about my boss’s hardon about Mitt Romney, I went to the kitchen for lunch, and when I came back, I found this:

I swear to god, if they make me answer the phone, “Good morning, [My company] vote for Romney”, I’m fucking quitting.

(I’m totally not quitting.)