Wednesday, April 30, 2008
That thong, th-thong, thong, thong
Because my spouse and I do not have cable, we headed to Primanti's last night to enjoy some fine dining and watch the Pens game. Side note: the Pens kick ass. We were placing our food order with our waitress and Mr. Pitsberger requested the following: "I'll have the Colossal Fish sandwich with onions instead of cole slaw." The waitress, horrified, replied in a thick Pghese accent, "You don't want no slaw?"
And another email from BFF of Mrs. Pitsberger: (I'm lazy today, leave me alone)
"So, as I told you on the phone, I went to Wal-mart today to get my tire fixed. No big deal. I went in and told them my problem and walked around the store for 45 minutes. They called my name and I went back to pick up my car. I paid and went out and got into my car. All pretty standard stuff. Well you remember when I told you last year that when I went to Wal-mart to get my car fixed and in the last minute frantic cleaning of my car in the parking lot(aka jamming stuff under the front seat so the grease monkies don't think I'm living out of my car); I found a thong and stuck it in my purse and it fell out in the middle of the store. Well, this time I decided to clean out my car before I actually made it to the store. Guess what I found in the console (aka my banking recordkeeping spot). That same thong. I'd never taken it out. I immediately determined that that thong was going to make it into the house. So as not to forget it I displayed it prominently wrapped around the gearshift by a strap and laying spread out onto the passenger seat. Now guess where it was when I got back into my car after getting my tire changed. Yep, you guessed right. Prominently displayed wrapped around my gearshift and spread ever so nicely on my passenger seat. I'm going to burn that thong."
I should tell you about my BFF. She's the awesomest. And yes, she does stupid shit like this all the time. And so do I. That's why we're hetero-soulmates.
I finally got a lap top. I'm a blogger, right, and every blogger should have a lap top. I even got the cutest ever cherry print bag for it. Not that I will ever have a reason to leave the house with my lap top, but that bag is cute as hell. Of course, I have wireless internet access. I LOVE my lap top. If it had a dick, I would fuck it. That's how much I love my lap top. I need a name for him. Finally! An excuse to use Pittgirl's random name generator!
And is this not the best thing ever?