bath robe of DOOM

[threeplusfire]

I keep telling myself that I don't need a turkish cotton hooded bathrobe but come on. If you click on the picture you get a crisper version. I want a medium, in green. Oh man. I need to sit down and write a bunch of AC articles so I could buy that.

Alright, meme dorkiness only because I know some people will laugh. Comment with a completely fake and invented memory about me. You know you want to.

Comments

[coyotegoth.livejournal.com]

Can you do me a favor? I need for you to remind me what I told the Venezuelan ambassador, that made him decide not to press charges after the mechanical bull incident during dollar shot night at Bounce. Oh- and His Eminence says you're out of guacamole.

[sykii.livejournal.com]

Amanda and I first met in first grade, in detention. I'd been sent down for calling my arts and crafts teacher a bourgeois imperialist sock-puppet, and she'd finally corrected her music teacher's pronunciation one time too many during a unit on Nationalist Romantic composers. While the vice principal's back was turned, Amanda removed a hairpin and loosened a cinderblock near the bottom of the back wall. She wriggled out through the hole, and I followed. As I emerged, blinking in the sunshine, she finished rolling a cigarette one-handed, struck a match on her shoe, and took a deep drag.

Oh, you b*tch.

[geoectomy.livejournal.com]

Now, I want me one of those too.

You're evil.

Re: Oh, you b*tch.

[tsarina.livejournal.com]

Doesn't it look gorgeous and comfy? I know! I should never have ever looked. Run away!

Of course, you'll remember...

[geoectomy.livejournal.com]

The time I called you from Giurgiu to ask you for directions. It wasn't my fault. I'd been in the sun most the day, and someone stole my tourist map. And anyway, I wasn't planning on being there. I sort of lost my way when I got separated from the Wallachia tour group.

But then, I figured, you'd been in that neck of the woods, so of course, you'd know how I could get out of there.

I mean, you'd told me all about those wierd mud-slinging vampire-goth-wannabe's, and I just had ot see for myself.

I never actually expected you to show up. But it was good. Even if my neck hurt like hell and hte wounds didn't stop bleeding for, like hours.

The wine you shared, though... now that was prime stuff. But I think it might've been laced with something, because I keep craving it, and I can smell it on some people when they walk by. It smells kind of like citrus, but has the most pleasantly warm flavor...

The only real problem, of course, is the bitch of a headache I get. You never seem to get those headaches when you drink the wine. I'm not sure why. More experience, perhaps?

Then there was that very odd karaoke singer who kept trying ot sing "somewhere overthe rainbow" to the tune of Nina Hagen's "New York, New York"... you sure showed him.

I'm glad he didn't get to taste your wine. We're better off wthout his eight-inch pump-wearing glitter-rod, anyway.

[gypsy-pie.livejournal.com]

Remember when we drove to the middle of nowhere looking for candied pecans but were stopped by the Italian Cartel and had to bribe them with our precious pecans? Damn them for taking my sweet candied goodies. That one guy with the three fingers wasn't half bad, though...