The word Fancy is not a verb. It might have been long ago, but now it's not. I am sorry, I know of the many things I am*, I am by no means a wordsmith or grammactatitian, but fancy is just not a verb. It is an adjective. It is used to describe stuff with lace and sequins on it. (that's the websters definition, just so you know). No self respecting person can say "Do you fancy a drink?" Unless of course they are wearing a monacle and the drink in question is the finest vintage of a particularly good wine. So unless you stem from the late 19th century, or have a desperate need for a corrective lens in only one eye, then fancy can only be used to describe things, not show an enjoyment of things.

*Smelly, construction paper god, smarter then most warm bricks, generally odorific, squelchy, perpetual user of this thing*

*I wasn't making a footnote, I just can't spell that word. OH shit I was making a footnote.

Hooked on Facebook worked for me

Thankfully I missed out on the myspace craze. Unfortunately I am addicted to facebook. That goddamn website accounts for 14/23rds of my internet time. (the other time breaks down like this; 1/23rd on this example of poor grammar and waste of good internet, another 23rd on the Air Force website seeing what I am in trouble for now, and I use the other 7/23rds improving hand coordination and wrist strength.) I am glad that I can now know every little detail about everyone's lives. I can get up to the minute updates such as; Mark has added Fraggle Rock to his favorite TV shows, or Jenny is no longer a member of the "Inside Joke that no one else knows about" group. (I hear Jenny was not happy with the actions of said group at their annual conference this year in Boise). Also I thankful for the knowledge that Jim has tagged himself in 32 pictures, of well... Himself. Amazing. The only truly important feature of facebook is its power to grant official status to a relationship. I firmly believe that unless facebook notifies me with a line such as "Dwight and Jon are life partners" with a small heart next to it, then I don't believe it. Hell I'm not even sure my parents are really married, cause according to facebook they really don't even exist. (I bet they staged all those "wedding pictures" in the same studio where they faked the moon landing")

Whistles in the Wind

A few days ago while visiting one of my frequent haunts, the library (Mostly I wear a sheet with two eye holes and yell Boo at other students) I found the sudden and uncontrollable urge to use the restroom. A not too uncommon thing I might add. Anyways I entered the Potty and took up the traditional stance at the unrinal. Feet spread shoulder width apart, left hand securing bottom of fly* and right had doing the heavy lifting... Just go along with it, it helps my ego. Anyways as I was about to commence I heard a dreaded sound coming from outside the bathroom. Whistling. I thought "Wow I hope the whistler doesn't come in here, and what the hell is that stain on my pants, it looks like mustard" (it turns out it's yellow paint, and I need to get new jeans) Anyways the wistling kept getting closer and then I heard the door creak open. "Damn" I thought. I did the quick urinal math and realized he would have to be next to me. "Extra Damn". Now I am trying to stop thinking about the whistles and think about peeing, but then when he gets next to me, I start thinking "I wonder what that tune is? And why is he whistling while he pisses, surely the snow white dwarves didn't classify that as being work?" Then I thought about the 7 dwarves peeing, and how creeped out snow white would be living with 7 midgets. And then the final thought struck me. I was standing there looking fixidly at a wall with myself in my hand thinking about the living arrangements in a Disney movie. In the meantime the whistler had finished his business and began humming a tune while washing his hands.

* this is the traditional placement of the left hand, but there are many others including the classic drunk, where the left hand takes up station on the wall about eye level to act as another point of contant to keep the bathroom from spinning away and out of control. Very helpful when in a less then reputable bar bathroom with less then reputable balance