(no subject)

My upstairs neighbors are fucking again.

I have to admit, whatever they're doing up there sounds like really good sex. Creaking bedsprings, the headboard gently rapping on the wall, puncutated by the occasional moan...

And the weird thing is, I don't usually hear any other noises coming from upstairs, except for the occasional gospel music being blared kind of too loud. So what I hear ends up being a combination of spirituality and lust. It's an interesting mix.

Where am I going with all this? I don't know. It's way past my bedtime and I'm babbling. Eh.

There are advertisements on the moon now.

As if we can't already open our eyes without having advertisements crammed down our throats, now we can look up and see more advertising in the skies above. That's right, courtesy of the Latrobe Brewing Company, brewers of Rolling Rock Beer, we now get to see a laser image of their hologram on the fucking moon.

I can't wait to hear the public outcry on this one. I can't drive down a highway without seeing ads posted on huge billboards all over the place. The whole world is going to be staring at this ugly ad up in the sky, and I know Rolling Rock isn't sold worldwide.

I may be adding a second brand of beer to the list of beers I absolutely refuse to drink.