Keep It Tasty

I would like to take this opportunity to encourage everyone to use my newly coined phrase "Keep It Tasty". I am not sure what this means at all, but I think it can mean whatever you want it to mean and can be used in any number of conversational situations:

1)As a goodbye...."See ya" "Yeah, keep it tasty"
2)As a request when eating at a restaurant or having someone prepare food for you... "How do you want it?" "Keep it tasty"
3)As a line for hitting on women....said with emphasis on "Ta" in Tasty....."Keep it TAsty"
4)When trying to break up a verbal or physical confrontation "Come on guys, let's keep it tasty"

So, everyone start saying it. Then you'll know who started the trend. Myself and my 4 blog readers.

As Easter was celebrated this past weekend, I decided (Please note, God(s), that this is meant in no way to be offensive or mocking, but rather I am saying something cool about you, so please, just chill) that I, like Jesus, would also like to have disciples. Everyone I have spoken to on this matter says, "Well, perform some miracles, nut job." (which by the way, I am surprised no one has picked up on a possible nickname for me of "Nut Job")...but I really don't think miracles are all that necessary. I just think people should want to follow me around, who knows, maybe throw a little denial and betrayal in there, and basically we can keep it tasty all the livelong day. Having disciples would mean things like not having to do laundry, probably grocery shop, or even walk as an independant human being (I would get a rikshaw). So basically it would be sweet. If you are interested please fill out the application below:

Name____________________________
Past Disciple Experience____________________________
Are you good at laundry_______________________________
Do you like to drink______________________________
Can you keep it tasty______________________________
Denial or betrayal experience____________________________ (this will not come about when I am being tried for being a Messiah or anything, but rather you will deny you know me when a girl you are macking on at the bar who has always liked me asks if you are one of my friends before you guys make out.....and this is the the betrayal too)
Favorite color of human________________________ (please answer using only colors in 8 Crayon Box)
Least favorite Central American country_____________________
Ideas on tastiest endangered species___________________________
Do you have skills with a crossbow?____________________________
Crunk or drunk?__________________________________

I have been applying myself rather dedicatedly lately to working out, both lifting and running in an effort to....hmmmm...I guess in an effort to have some sort of counter effect on my liquor consumption, and to look good for unwitting women I have yet to meet. Anyways, I have been working out with Brian who is a straight up workout nazi. (Nazi not in the sense that he wears little brown suits with a swastika and a tiny mustache, but rather that he has this shirt that says "I am a workout nazi" that he couples with his brown pants, swastika, and tiny mustache)...but it is great to have someone and sometimes two people (Adam comes too) to workout with, I forgot that it could be fun and not just something that your ultra crazy psychotic mind made you do for fear that the ham sandwich you ate was going to make you fat. Alas, I have said too much.

Last Friday night, Trevor came over, there was drinking and Trevor evidently tried to throw pepper at someone as well as tried to proclaim Logan as the new Ike Turner. Brian also showed up, wasted, mooned everyone in the room and then passed out in a chair, where Logan drew on him. Logan, drunk as he was, was also belligerently trying to find out "What the fuck the count was" and "what inning it was" until I lost it and had to tell him that there was no baseball on anywhere and that sportscenter was on with men discussing the NFL draft. So, that was last Friday, and this Friday can only get crazier. After all, it is a birthday party for a one year old dog.

Saturday Brian and I watched UFC pay-per-view. There were some good fights, but the official drink sponsor of the summer of Tim (whiskey sours) did not enable me to remember all too well. Then we went to some party in Wicker Park, got more drunk (in fact, we were drinking Patron right out of the bottle, and rather than have a sip, I was chugging for about five seconds) and I fell asleep in a chair in front of a live band. This may have angered them.

Alas to the non family member female readership of this blog, here are my qualities for either you to admire, or for you to admire and send unwitting females to me:
I am not funny looking (too much).
I can wiggle my ears.
I know all the President's in order.
I have my own room (and it has a TV).
I am employed.
I have a dog.
I workout.
I have hair clippers if you want to cut your hair really short.
I once did a Yahoo! crossword puzzle with only seven or eight mistakes.
I can probably pick you up. And maybe even carry you around.
I know stuff about plants, but not like in a weird way or anything.
I have a cell phone.
And a watch. But the timer doesn't work on it.
My bed is very comfortable.

That is all. So, disciples, fill out the applications, Ladies feel free to ask if I might have other qualities, or you can just list them.