fighting the urge
fighting the urge
Things I can do with my hands while fighting the urge to light up:
First, I can write a letter to PETA:
Dear PETA PEOPLE:
Your mission to change the name of the Green Bay Packers is kind of funny. I quote from your campaign literature here:
Few fans realize that the Packers are named after slaughterhouse workers, the people whose job it is to prod and drag animals to their deaths, to hoist, kill, and skin billions of cows, lambs, and other beings—all this at a time in our society when we have come to realize animals are whole and wonderful and feeling, not just hamburgers and handbags on the hoof.
One of your suggestions is the Green Bay Six-Packers. What? Barley and hops don't have feelings, too? What about the Clydesdale horses who are forced to work at minimum wage and don't even get to join the Screen Actors Guild for their commercial work? And you know, after throwing back a couple of 40s while watching a football game, I begin to think that my beer is whole and wonderful and feeling.
Also, perhaps you should start a campaign for the Miami Dolphins to change their name to the Miami Dolphin-free Tunas.
M.C., concerned meat eater.
Ok, that killed five minutes.
Eh, who writes letters anymore? And who reads them?
Other things to keep my hands busy:
Play with the Derek Jeter bobblehead in a way it wasn't meant to be played with.
Play Puzzle Fighter until my fingers bleed.
Draw a mustache and cornrows on every picture of Michael Moore I can find.
Wash the dishes. Again. Even though we have a dishwasher.
Leave a comment on every single blog in my sidebar.
I'm feeling fiesty tonight. Anyone wanna throw down? Where my bitches at? Where my dawgs at? Who wants a piece of me?
James, Jessica, I'll take those drinks now.