what's inside the baby jesus' tears?
Can you even wrap your mind around the picture above? Sweet merciful Jesus.If I were to show up at home with this bad mamajama, I might get shot. Or stabbed. Or shot then stabbed. I'll tell ya, though. I have nothing but fond memories of my sea monkey friends. Once I got over the whole "what the hell? they don't even look like monkeys" part, that is. I think I went maybe three days without talking to them. After that, magic. I just might be willing to tempt the fates for this gem.
I don't know what the wand is for.
I don't care.
Did I mention I may or may not be jet-lagged at the present moment and operating very little sleep. Sleep that can only be defined as unquantifiable amounts of mini-snoozes between wakinkg up and saying "god my throat hurts. god its hot in here."
That's not important now. You know, as well as I do, what is important...
posted by Phil Rossi @ 1:32 PM
1 comments
1 Comments:
At first (quick) glance of that sweet sea-monkey set-up picture, I thought "oh crap, Phil has gone and found himself a sick sexual toy that's only available in Europe and you need to sign a waiver to buy." On closer inspection I realized that it's the coolest Sea Monkey package ever.
They were the "pet rocks" of the 80's and I miss all my little shrimpy friends ... who died a miserable death of both burning alive and asphyxiation when I left them in my window and the water dried up/boiled in the sun. Whoops.
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