Classic Ryan Blog
Ok, I’m cleaning out my old MySpace blog so I can finally close that account. Since the integration of CAPTCHA to thwart porn stars, I haven’t received a friend request in some time. And I don’t know the last time I used it for anything other than checking in on David Cook’s lastest album. So I’m going to try and post an old blog every day or so until they’re all cleaned out. Here comes #1!! (Women, if you’ve heard that last sentence before, I fear for your hygiene)
So, the good people at YUM! brands have finally sent me over the edge. (They are the fast food juggernaut KenTacoHut) In my usual catatonic sunday morning/afternoon/early evening hangover, I decided to frequent the Taco Bell on Rainbow Road. (Not the rainbow road in MarioKart, I think they just have Captain D’s. I’m talking about the one in KCK) Anyway, after my insistance that the kind gentleman behind the bulletproof money taker/food giver give me “a lot” of hot sauce, I was obviously upset to find that there were a mere three packets in my bag. My first conclusion was that the sound waves produced by my soothing barritone voice, must have the same velocity and force as a bullet. My request simply didn’t make it through the bulletproof money taker/food giver. Upon further thought I realized at no point in my life has my voice created an exit wound. So this certainly couldn’t be the case.
Now, this was enough sauce to cover my spicy chicken crunch wrap supreme. However, I did not have any left over for my regular beef taco or double decker supreme. This frustration coupled with the intense anger that Mary Lou Retton was deniend an ESPY nomination, AGAIN!, led me to take out my anger on the dog. Now I don’t strike the dog, because he bites. I don’t yell either, cause that would rile him up, and he bites. But I did bitch to him like a 17 year old girl that can’t find the right shoes for her prom dress. I didn’t have anyone else to talk to because Matt was at the boats squandering our rent money. After a 10 minute diatribe I think, I actually watched, for the first time, a dog contemplate suicide. I’m sorry Roy, I will make up for it with dog biscuits and bitches. Seacrest Out!
