Uhhh, so a few months ago I blew out my flip flop. Yup, just like the song. No, I wasn’t in Margaritaville. I was actually just reading a book at the Lib-a-raryville (haha, just read it so it makes sense!) Just when I mustered up the courage to throw them away, a wondrous idea came to me. I don’t think anything has ever been easier to fix with nothing but a washer and a screw. Truly thereifixedit.com worthy.
It seems like every time I get drunk, I manage to convince myself that it is totally appropriate to take things off other people’s heads and wear them as my own.
If you are one of the many people who birthday bombed me on Facebook, then you already know that today is my birthday. Today also marks the first day of a new, year long project. Starting today I will be logging and saving every cent that I find. Every penny on the ground, every quarter between the washer and the dryer, every rolled up dollar found outside my favorite coke den. Fuck, I’ll even count Canadian money. My goal is a modest, yet challenging, $10 in 365 days. Do the math, that averages out to roughly 2.7 cents a day. Considering it is probably just as easy to find a nickel or dime as it is to find a penny, I think I can accomplish this feat. It is even very plausible that I will find a whole dollar, achieving 10% of my total goal in one find!
What shall this project be called? I’m open to suggestions, but for now it is just referred to as Change Is Good. Please come up with a better name for it (puns are a plus.)
Below is the penny that christened this project. It’s quite beat up, but hopefully it will be the first of many!
Sorry for my weird posture. My backpack was full of heavy (non-invisible) groceries.
Ashlinn and her invisible groceries.
All grudges will be forgiven if you buy me this for my birthday.
When the apocalypse comes, please make sure you are on Mondo Spider’s good side.
This coffee is so good you’ll dip your french fries in it!
Last night I had a dream that I was in a diner with friends and we were at the table closest to the front door. An old guy came in and started being a dick to the hostess so I shot him in the chest. He was really old. I spent the rest of the dream running and hiding from cops. I cleverly hid in an old armoire in an antique store. While hiding in there, I had time to reflect by myself and realized the severity of my actions. I turned myself in. The weird part is that the cops were old friends of mine.
Moral of the story: Don’t shoot old guys in the chest in real life because it could effect the quality of sleep that you get.