Thursday, August 6, 2015

The Thirty-Sixth Step

Just when you thought it was safe to climb a higher floor, here's another "Step" article from an increasingly occasional blogger...

For having a pair of maroon Puma Romas in the correct size priced at $29.99 plus tax, DTLR at Chesapeake Square Mall continues to be my favorite shoe store. Both cups of the three-hour-old, hazelnut-flavored coffee at Panera Bread last night put me in a surprisingly good mood. If you'd like to hear perhaps the best Adolescents- esque punk blast released in 2015, load Fujiwara's "Gimme A Shot" into your chamber. A possible birthday present for my brother Mike might be a T-shirt from the Virginia Lottery. One highlight from my recent visit to a barn in Pungo was the consumption of several lumpia rolls made by Glory's Bakery. I view most memes submitted to Facebook as a reactionary attempt to justify insecurities of the poster in question. If you will excuse me for a second, it is time to save this lukewarm draft beer of a story. During the restroom break, I came up with an idea for a Starbucks-brand toilet-bowl cleaner. Shortly before the band Ride pumps their brakes somewhere in the Greater Cincinnati area, a clever sort of lady or gent should make a "NEED A RIDE TO RIDE!" plea on Craigslist. A magazine called "Southern Grit" ought to contain at least a few examples of local, messy-haired teenagers with large Iron Maiden and Metallica patches on the backs of their worn denim jackets. The potential "Amos For Prez" shirt cited in the last update will now be amended to read "Amos For President In 2016." Because Mike's French fries cast an unwelcome line of a fishy aftertaste, we have put The Plaid Turnip on indefinite probation. "So, is this a thing now?" and "This is why we can't have nice things" need to become things of the past. The garage-grunge shine on "Ceiling Mirrors" by Airport '75 just might turn vocalist/guitarist Paul Unger into Tidewater's most unlikely "alt-rock" god. I support straight divorce. Our local paper, who had earlier extended the heave-ho to an inimitable Mal Vincent, ran a half-star review of "Vacation" from another publication in its supplemental section. Due to hiccups with this $99 tablet from Office Max, I almost lost the last few sentences of my questionably pointless scribbling. Steve Harvey is the best host of "Family Feud" since the O.G. (Richard Dawson, for those born in the 2000s) himself. One answer on the board: Name something that erupts. I hereby retract the negative statement made about Cook Out earlier this year, for that was based on a single onion ring eaten in a car at the cramped restaurant in Norfolk. Some girls are bigger than Struthers. Galaxie 500's On Fire was the first album played on my television after inserting a Roku stick into the Vizio's HDMI port. Arachnophobia has prevented me from looking into "The Deep Web." I just threw a 30-year-old dictionary in the garbage, because it no longer meant anything to me. The only Orioles game I've seen this year in its entirety was when they played inside of an empty Camden Yards. Words With Friends is SCRABBLE with dyslexia. I sneezed and missed Ronda Rousey's last fight against a Brazilian nut whose name I won't attempt to spell. BA-BA-BA, BA-BAR-BARA CIARA!!! Everybody in the whole cellblock were dancing to the Western Tidewater Regional Jailhouse Rock! No matter what, this ends before 5 a.m. Someone is in the kitchen, for I smell toasted English muffins. The "Short Circuit"- meets-"Robocop" failed experiment known as "Chappie" was a pretty crappy movie, but most of the stench can be blamed on human actors. "Butthurt" is a term that needs its ass wiped with a 200-ply roll of Charmin. "Best of all, you could win a shipload of money!" probably wasn't immediately cleared by the censors. The antics of YouTube sensation Angry Grandpa are every bit as staged as those from Vince McMahon's charges in the WWE. "Hulk Hogan Never Happened" written in red letters on a yellow shirt (or vice versa) could be a future possibility at the nearby sporting goods store. The Dictators and Billy Joel have terrific tunes about sleeping with the television on.

Wow, Chris Davis hit a walk-off grand slam yesterday! Thank you, ESPN, for the report. It's time for me to doze off. 5:03 on the nose! Good night and good morning!

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