Formative Moments of Misadventure.

I don’t think I should be ashamed to admit that sometimes I go to the Sunday Farmers Market and I have no intention of buying a thing. I honestly go because I am quite simply sprung for homie that works for this organic farm in Yakima. Name’s Octavio or something and he looks delish. Wears a flashy ring on his middle finger, and there is generally a long line of mos waiting for their produce. Yesterday I picked up some potatoes, a nice assortment of peppers, & green beans. I was rewarded with the eye full of butt crack. Fought the urge to faint, walked home. Made lunch.

Got to work this morning and immediately went to see what was on television tonight and Bones is being preempted by some Closer marathon. I have never watched the show, and I do not take kindly to being threatened into watching. Like what, if I don’t watch they won’t bring back my Bones. Oh hell no! I have a Gerard Butler movie waiting for me that will serve my needs nicely.