Well, kiddies. I've been busy doing nothing, waking up late, buying things for my new year's eve party, and traveling to Raleigh. I don't have anything amazing or funny to report.

I'm afraid there will be no boys at my New Year's Eve partay. So sad!

I am the worst dog owner in the worrlldd!

Happy Belated Birthday to me, Happy Belated Birthday to me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I love how credit card companies make me feel so good about myself. They beg and get on their hands and knees to make me stay with them and all I do is say, "No, thank you." They offer deals, bargins, and their first born, but no matter how much they implore, I slap their faces and deny them. It feels good to be the one to do the rejection.

I took two weeks off from worky. No post until I stop eating and getting fat at Maggie's house.

I think I'm depressed. I don't have to step into work for two and a half weeks and I'm acting like a whiney teenager. I will solve this problem with alcohol.

I GOT NOTHING!

I'm busy planning my New Year's cocktail, which may not even happen. If I can't get the invites printed properly, how the hell am I going to successfully get fifteen plus people drunk and happy on the 31st?

Stunted growth. Post when life gets interesting again.

I went up to this guy and started talkin to him. I asked him what cologne he was wearing and he said Very Sexy from Victoria Secret. All he had to say was "I have a girlfriend."

I'm so bored out of my skulll, I assigned myself work.

ill.

WHAT THE HELL IS EVERYONE DOING FOR NEW YEAR'S !!?!?!??! I do not want a repeat of last year: sitting on my friend's couch watching a crappy show on tv.

I may try eharmony.com for seven days free. One match says that his favorite thing is PIE. That's funny. Most people put something crappy like "family, friends". That's so boring.

'No shit, Sherlock. Of course all that crap is great, but give me unique answers.' Stupid people.

My friends and I email each other throughout the work day to keep ourselves entertained and sane from the drudgery of the office. One friend, we'll call her Erin, is getting her period tomorrow and so am I. The internet is so advanced that now, pheromones can travel over the world-wide-web and influence our menstrual cycles. It's like a virtual sorority house up in here!

Who wants a bid to the AI house?!

I figured out why I like Target more than Walmart. Walmart clutters their aisles with crap and junk, while the opposing store keeps their aisles clear and pristine. At Target, there is room to meander abouts without assailing a customer or knocking over a display of hemorrhoid ointments.

Oh and let's not forget to mention, Target is red-neck-free.

I'm watching "A Man Apart," starring Vin D. Now, his fragile skinny ass wife gets shot and dies in the beginning (sorry for the spoiler). If the stupid woman had put some meat on her bones, maybe, just maybe, the bullet would have gotten stuck in some fatty tissue and not have killed her.

This is why skinny girls suck.

I learned a good cause and effect relationship today. My dad taught me that "When you eat, you gotta go take a shit."

My alarm went off at 1am, 4am and 6am. Don't ask me why and how. The ghost from Gothika snuck into my room and played tomfoolery with my gadgets.

I also had a dream that I was in a loony-bin and they wouldn't let me out, no matter how normal I tried to act. Instead of living the rest of my life with them crazies, I escaped, climbed a huge ass tree, and hopped into a race car that my cousin drove. ...oops, I just remembered that I got shot.

Hmm, I guess I thought this story was going to be funny, but now I'm a lil depressed.

I'm having one of those days. You know, you want to stab people in the face. This morning I put two contacts in the same eye, wore non-matching earrings and spilled coffee on my beloved too-small-to-be-wearing-at work light yellow shirt.

Today, they installed a new showerhead in my bathroom. I went home to run with the dog and jumped in shower. Little did I know, I had entered a mansoon region. The water was spraying 2312 mph and the shower curtain was blowing from the hydro-produced winds.

When I asked for a massage shower-head I thought I sign-up for bathtime fun, but instead I adopted El Nino.

I had to do the "lay down and button up the jeans" this morning. I haven't donned my denimns in a year and now I know why. I can't breath. Jebus, help me.

Remember, back in the day when I wrote about staircase hoggers. Well, today I was in a hurry walking down the steps when this asshole metro with a 1996 Abercrombie necklace was coming towards me. Not only was he tall, obtrusive, and obnoxious looking, he was with two other people.

Metro-ass was oblivious to anyone but himself and his small penis and refused move aside for me, a laptop, and a giant tub of peanuts. So, I did what any decent American citizen would do, knock the shit out of his arm and kept on walking.

Biotch.

Thursday, September 16
Here's a hint for all staircase users. Even though the stairs are wide, it doesn't mean that every inch should be taken by you and your posse. Just because you're part of the West Side Story gang and feel the need to walk in formation, you do not have the right to blockade the walkway. If you're going up and I'm going down, one of you will be smacked by my appendage. You and five of your friends need to scooch a little to make room for the other-direction people.

This goes to hallway walkers as well. I know your conversations are enthralling and you must hear every word of your walking companion(s), but if I need room to get through, someone will get hurt. Oh, and walk faster than a geriatric on Xanax. Passersby are obviously on their way to somewhere and that place ain't ya'lls asses.

In this mini copy room, there are bathrooms. As I was cutting my photos on that death machine (the big ass hack saw used to resize paper), a lady went in the bathroom. But before she stepped in, she sighed a big, "OKAY," like she was getting ready for battle.

I do not want to hear people voice their 'go get it' attitude as they're about to relieve themselves. It's like they're announcing to the world that they're bout to drop some bombs.

HEY HEY HEY!

Who the hell put Christmas AND New Years on a Saturday? We don't get a weekday off for during the holidays because Xmas and NY falls on weekends. I feel robbed.

Things I learned during Thanksgiving weekend.

1. Asians do not like to use soap. Don't even try finding a bar of soap in the bathroom.

2. When fathers get old, they tend to forget things. Plan to freeze your ass off at a soccer field because your father forgot to pick you up.

3. No food will compliment your diet. Starvation is key to losing weight.

4. The internet is your friend. Ignore people by latching on to the computer.

5. Traffic ain't that bad if you leave wicked early from the festivities. No reason to stay around to be polite. They won't remember your rudeness by next T-day.

I was at The Dollar Store to purchase cheap Christmas cards, and as I waited in line to pay for my goodies, I spotted racks of pregnancy tests.

Promiscuous sex is so rampant that The Dollar Store now carries preggie tests. You could have sex multiple times and only have to spend a buck to see if you were carrying little Junior. Just make sure you submerge the test stick in a cup of urine; peeing on it will not work.

If you want an Xmas card from me, email your addy. You'll receive a card with a picture of Parker (my doggie) and me.

I am going to write out citations for smelly individuals. It is a travesty to expose my olfactory senses to such offensive odors.

I am in no mood to be alive today.

It is impossible to find people when you need to and avoid supervisors when you want to.

My supervisor is coming in around 9-10am and I'm supposed to catch him before he leaves for the rest of the day.

I guess I should set up a tent by his door and put out a bear trap to catch him! That would be fun. Pretending we're in the wild outdoors, trapping and killing each other for suvival. Forget heeled shoes, time for Timbalands!

I want to cry. Suggest a good movie.

I'm in a foulass mood. I better finish the crossword or else my dog will get a beating tonight!

Something about brown lunch bags gets me all tingly inside. I love carrying a SACK LUNCH! BOOYOW!

I had two humorous observations, but I lost them all. Damn the affects of time.

Speaking of cows, I just ate a handful of animal crackers and a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup. Stupid societal pressures to be in control of your food intake and live up to media standards of beauty and the opposing forces of nature that compels you to consume as many calories as possible to build up fat for winter hibernation and future famines.

New York Times headline: In Texas, 28,000 Students Test an Electronic Eye-
A few schools have begun monitoring students' arrivals and departures using technology similar to that used to track livestock.

If I was a 12 year-old, I would like to resemble a cow. It's nice being comparable to beefy smelly bovine, especially since I would be most vunerable and sensitive about my body.

MOO. BEEP. MOOO.

I feel sorry for myself today because:

1. an MBA has yet to ask me to the MBA Semi-formal
2. Maroon 5 (ex-stalkee) looks hot in a toboggan (southern word for a winter hat thing)
3. I don't know how to save money
4. applying to schools cost a shit load of money
5. recruiting participants for a research database is hard work
6. finding good research assistants is even harder
7. my dog is lonely during the day
8. I'm out of diet soda
9. I want more sweatpants that are long enough to drag on the floor
10. Chinese people with blonde hair don't look right
11. the Jellybean (nickname for my green Honda Civic, named by my undergraduate assistant) needs an oil change
12. my toes get cold very easily. the rest of my body could be on fire, but my toes would still be frozen. weird and inefficient.
13. I ate part of a chocolate chip scone, cinnamin crumble cake, mini blueberry muffin and gingerbread cookie.
14. it's only Tuesday.

Apprently my microwaving skills need sharpening. A frozen lunch of digusting smelling alfredo pasta was sitting in the microwave so I took it out to heat my frozen vegetables.

A co-worker flew in the coffee room and stammered, "It's supposed to be in there for five minutes."

I replied, "Do you want to put it back in there?"

Obviously irritated, she said, "No. Once it's out, it's out."

Am I supposed to wait five minutes until her precious meal was ready and why wasn't she standing next to her food with bat in hand to shoo people away? I almost made a funny and said, "Next time, put a post-it note notifying people of the Stouffer Rule," but I didn't want hot burning lasagna thrown in my face.

I'm watching college Jeopardy and they are asking the easiest questions even a five year old could answer. What is a fing girafee? Who doesn't know what a rhino, giraffe, and a dinosaur looks like?

Dumbasses.

I want someone to ask me to the MBA semi-formal (AKA Prom). Suddenly, I feel like I'm in She's All That and Maroon 5 will ask me out on a dare and try to get in my pants. I say, "YES! My pants are for YOU!"

Excuse me. Who names their child Pita? How bout I call my son Bagel and my daughter Ham Sandwich.

Erin is the worst movie recommender. Man on Fire is the worst and Tony Scott sucks!

I want to smack guys who drink their beverages wrapped in cozies, especially if it's a PLASTIC bottle of DIET Coke.

If the available times to come to my office is between 1 and 3pm, do not reply in an email that you will arrive at 3:30pm.

i have to buy my phd a new bag of animal crackers because i ate all of hers. the sad thing about it is the food was for a research study and ate the dependent variable!

What the fuck is up with people that like the temperature at hot? This is not a fucking bakery and I do not intend to habituate myself to the environment in hell. I know that's where you're headed, but please, I rather keep the thermostat at "Purgatory" and not "Hades."

When I don't want to see the two people that diss me, they are the first people I run into in the morning.

Fate is a son of a bitch, I tell you. For weeks, I have stalked my MBA lovers, and now that I've gotten over them (sort of) and avoiding each boy like the plague, they are all I see. Fucking shit. You're an asshole, Fate.

Saturday afternoon, Korey and I visited a dirty book slash video store. It was seedy, dim, and grimy: everything I expected from one of those shops, but even worse.

The man at the counter had his back to the store, and refused to turn around when I asked him if he had any Playb0y DVDs. He replied, with no emotion and no eyecontact, "It's not dirty enough for me."

Now, I want to run my own p0rn store and make sure it's classy and carries only professionally made videos. Also, I would place dispensable hand sanitizers and air fresheners throughout the store.

It would be called Grand Central.

Tip of the Day: After wiping the phone with hand sanitizer, do not expect the five pound blob to dry after two minutes and do not answer the phone. However, if you wish to disinfect your cochlea, then by all means, rub the gel-covered phone receiver all over your ear.

This f-ing printer is so fucking old even my grandpa can beat it in a potato sack race. Anyway, they won't give me a new printer because this one is supposedly a "work horse."

Yea, a horse that's ready for the fucking dog food factory.

Last night, I found out that I'm not a musical/Broadway kind of girl. I'm quite surprised since I like most metro, new-age, dancing, and singing activities.

How did RENT get so popular? It's good because I have no comparison level and it helps that the people can really belt out the tunes, but seriously, am I missing something?

Maybe it would have helped if I could hear the words in each song. All I could make out was "RENT!" from each musical piece. Damn Off-Off-Broadway shitty building acoustics.

Tip of the Day: Do not smother your face all over you dog after applying flea treatment on his body.

Yesterday, as I was getting cold cash from Accounting, the fire alarm went off. The most annoying woman in the world, who is the reincarnation of Nina from Office Space, goes "Come on, ladies. The fire alarm went off and we need to go now."

Is that what the pierciing sound at 48203942 decibals is? No, it's not an emergency spine-cringing alarm, it's a soothing tone reminding me to check my email.

Accounts payble, Satan speaking.

WHERE ARE MY COMMENTS, PEOPLE? I'm alone in no comment land.

Why do city planners feel the need to change a road's name in the middle of its 10 mile stretch? I'm driving down Martin Luther King Jr. Parkway when all of the sudden it turns into Archdale. Thinking I'm lost, I turn the car around and attempt to find the missing link. I fail using my crappy navigational skill and head the long way home.

What the hell? You think it makes the neighborhood off of MLK more safe if you change it to Archdale Dr. for a total of three feet?

Does it work ignoring guys?

DO you know where one finds a good bootycall? The characteristics of a good bootycall is he's got to be:
1. hot
2. has own transportatoin
3. lives close, but not too close
4. doesn't talk about his life
5. has good breath
6. brings own toothbrush and 'next day clothes'
7. actually, leaves before my alarm goes off
8. wait, i take that back. leaves before i fall asleep
9. has no body hair
10. doesn't expect that i want to see him during the day
11. refrains from using the bathroom for more than two minutes
12. touches nothing and makes no comment on furniture
13. leaves my doggy alone

35 minutes and 45 seconds is how long it took me and my dog to run a 5k. I'm so proud of myself for not being last and stickin through the bastardly run. I WANT TO DO IT AGAIN!!! Who's with me?

I like the new "I hate-you-because-you're-male-Natalie." There's no room for emotions to get involved and I kick them out of my apartment before the sun rises.

At the club last night, I had a lengthy conversation with Maroon 5, however, I cannot recall what I said, thanks to vodka and gin.

I'm dressing as Pocahontas for Hween. I want to wear a sign that says "Poke-me-hiney." GET IT?! HA.

I get soooo excited when I get a new package of multiple colored markers. I'm almost on the verge of an orgasm.

There's this cute post-doc gay guy that needs my help so I made a lunch date with him. At least SOMEONE is willing to do lunch, albiet a homosexual.

That will show Lover #2! :X

I'm bitter at life. I wish I could laze around all day while everyone handed me money and worried about my well-being, but noooo, I'm bustin my ass to survive while my bro just chills in NY. ASS!

And who is this psycho on the food networkt? Her name is Sandra Lee and looks like the spawn of Chucky.

ugh. I just don't want to talk about it. If only fat people like me does that mean I'm fat as well? It's a psychological fact that people of the same attractive level 'match up' with each other.

On a side note, I hate people.

I may start creating clever titles for my blog entires, however, it seems like hard work so I'll hold off on that idea for a while.

On a lighter note, I called my dad and told him about Lover #2's horrible email actions and how he blatantly dissed me in the halls. I said, "Nobody likes meeeeeee," actually I whined that phrase.

My dad replies, "Look at the Mexican guys. They like all the girls and they don't like them back."

Wow. That hurts. I've been playing email tag with an MBA and he has yet to reply to inquiries. I JUST SAW HIM IN THE HALLWAY.

That is so awkward. Waiting to hear from someone and then seeing him in the flesh. You hope he's on vacation, been hit by a bus, or sick with the flu, but he isn't. He just blew you off. That ass!

I used to loathe 80's music, along with country "music." Now, I rock to the 80's thanks to The Wedding Singer, Big Daddy-- basically anything Adam Sandler.

I saw Maroon today (this guy that looks like the lead singer of Maroon 5, but hotter). My timing was OFF AGAIN!!! Damnit. Why do I always see the people I don't care about, but never "run into" my lovers? Fucking shit.

The one thing I hate about old good movies is seeing the hugeness of the cellphones.

Trinity and Neo have zero chemistry. Are they supposed to be "machines" acting out love, because they are very mechanical in their affection. I want to throw up everytime they kiss.

Does Zion have makeup and other beauty accessories? I know Jada looks better than that in real life. She looks totally busted in Revolutions.

Did they have detergent? Do they smell? Do they have deodarant? They look so dirty.

Why is everyone so obsessed with love? It can't be that good.

OMG. I forgot Neo becomes blind. That's pretty nasty.

It's 5am and I feel terrible. Lover #2 has yet to reply to my email so now I have no lunch date.

Who the hell wants to cast Anne Heche in anything?

YAY BOSTON!

Umm..what else? I am headed to the dentist tomorrow morning to get a tooth extracted. I won't have a crown done for a couple months so I'm going to look like a carnie. Speaking of carnivals, the state fair is in town. I don't know where I'm going with this, but I don't like male facial hair.

AAHHH!!! He doesn't love me. Or does he?!

Here's an early Halloween story. There once was a country headed by a fool. Some may even say the fool was slightly retarded, but the Devil blinded the eyes of the countrymen and allowed him to win the hearts of almost half the nation (according to the polls with a 2.7% marginal error). In two weeks, either the trouble land would be governed by a man with an intelligience of a eight grader or the country would be under control of a smart tomatoed-sweetened orator.

To be continued......

BOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

When a person is retrieving multiple items off a shelf for me, it is unsettling to see him stick between his legs an item that is destined to be in my hands within five seconds. I don't want the DVD casing to capture reminents of his crotch.

At least let it be a hot guy's crotch.

I thought I had something to say today, but I don't. Hmm...

I demand that all persons who enter my abode shall remove their shoes. How do I politely tell this to strangers such as the Cable Guy?

His shoes were so nasty and gross and he was stomping around like the carpet was a doormat.

I'm afraid to watch Matrix Revolutions. It was so terrible the first time, could it be better the second time?

I've probably mentioned this before, but let me reiterate this point: When you want to say "you are," type "you're," not "your." DAMNIT!

I'm getting FREEEE CABLE from work! A professor needs a show taped off of the Game Show Network so I told him I'll do it for him if he pays for the 200 channels. YAY!

I feel so empty after chasing an animal I couldn't catch. Is this how hunters in the wild feel?

I just saw Maroon!!! Saw is the key word here, not touch or talked with, but saw.

First, I was walking from the parking lot when I spotted the blue shirted hot thang trotting to the building. On a side note, he HAS to do something about the socks. I walked as fast as my heeled feet would take me to his hot ass, but he was too quick for my eighty pound bookbag.

When I arrived to my office, I dropped everything onto the desk and ran to the drink machines, which is nicely located near his locker. Although I tried my best to run in my Steve Maddens, he got to the kiosk before me and headed to the bathroom/study room. I couldn't see which door he entered so I was at a lost. Do I stand around and wait for him to supposedly come out of the bathroom or do I go upstairs and stalk each study room?

I retreived the coveted Diet Mt. Dew and turned the corner to return to my cell block. "What the hell?!" I screamed to myself. There he was, Maroon walking down the hall going to either the library or a classroom. So, he DID relieve himself in the bathroom! Damn him for being a quick peer.

I jogged down the hall as normally as I could, making it sound as if a horse was galloping in the building, but when I was only 10 feet away, Maroon went into a classroom.

DAMN HIMM!!!!! NOOOOO!!!! F YOU FATE! Maybe it's God telling me to stay away from men wearing shin socks.

These DVDs are taking FOREVER to burn.

I rented 9/11 from Netflix thinking that it was Farenheit 9/11, but I was wrong. It was very disapppointing not being able to see a "documentary" on Bush's mistakes.

I'm reviewing Psych GRE terms with flashcards. I just shuffled them like a deck of poker cards. I feel so educational Las Vegasy.

I seriously feel like I'm taking crazy pills. I can't turn my neck, it's impossible to chew with the right side of my mouth, and my shoulders ache.

I'm such a bitchy sister that I evicted my bro off of my couch for his lack of motivation.

Am I going to sibling hell?

Chris Heinz is pretty cute. It's a shame that my brother's name is also Chris, because I would never be able to date such a rich smart man like Mr. Heinz. I have name-aversion when it comes to people with identical names as my family members. I become ill using the word Chris or Eddie and cute in the same sentence. I shudder at the thought.

That brings me to another story. I once had relations with a dapper fellow named, Eddy. I told myself that it really didn't count since he spelled his name differently than my father. Somehow that didn't work as the night progressed so I gave him a new name, which was Oh God.

My fear is to see a link to my blog disappear from someone's 'blogroll list.' It's scary to realize you've been demoted or axed. This hasn't happened yet, but beware of a psychotic trip down blog crazy lane if it ever occurs.

I didn't know that Orcs need to eat. If they are "dead," why do they want to munch on meat and "maggoty bread?"

You know who is the most annoying? The friend that AIMs you with an exuberant "HEY!" and then doesn't IM you back for five minutes.

Does Legolas brush his hair or do Elves have magic hair that remains so pretty 24/7?

It is curious to see movie characters living in grime during war-time. They become so dirty, mangled and filthy, but no matter how gross they get, their teeth stay white and pristine. Odd, isn't it?

I had one more random thought but I forgot. Damn the marijuana that I smoked in ninth grade!

My name is Natalie and I'm a typoholic. It started about two years ago when all I did was type and talk on AIM. It just feels so good to keep on typing and not use the backspace. I know it is wrong to force people to read my misspellings, but I can't help it. Thank you.

I'm lonely.

I FEEL LIKE I'M TAKING CRAZY PILLS!!!!!!!!!

On a side note, I reprimanded my upstairs neighbor. Apparently, the ass and his "friend" like to play soccer in the apartment. I hope he gets his ACLs knocked out so I can live in peace.

I can't wait till my 100 dvd spindle comes today. Ima burn up a frenzy.

Saturday night, I went to bed at 8pm. Last night, I fell asleep at 9pm. Maybe I have mono. The only things I have kissed lately are dogs.

I'm such an electricity nazi. My brother is stayin at my place for a lil' bit and he has this bad habit of turning on multiple lights for long periods of time.

I've told him not to turn on the blinding flood lights in the kitchen about 42042 times but he doesn't seem to compherend the concept of using energy-conserving lamps. Anyway, I got so annoyed that I duck taped the kitchen light switch so he wouldn't be able to turn on anything and waste energy!

The biggest losers on the road are the twenty-something males pretending to be thugs driving like assholes. Their look doesn't work because you can't look cool swerving in and out of lanes in Passat with a tissue box chillin on top of the back seat.

Turn off the Eminem because you are not oppressed and Kleenex boxes are destroying your cool factor.

I stalked lover number 2 and emailed him with the following:

"Let's do lunch this week....or hang out at the Super T."

We have this joke about him living near Super Target and me calling it the Super T. It's pretty lame.

Couple of things are wrong with my email. One, there's only one working day left this week. Two, no one hangs out at the Super T. Let's just hope that he's not too bright and will not notice the idioticness of the stalkerish email.

Have you guys missed me?! I've been busy watching the Apprentise at work and learning new psych GRE terms.

You're FIRED!

I want to barf. Wal-mart brand soda is not very tasty.

I want to barf. Wal-mart brand soda is not very tasty.

Do you think that when white boys dance they're actually doing the rain dance because it won't stop raining up in this piece. Fing boys with no rhythm!

Been busy dealing with issues...missed work and blog postings. Will think of funny stuff when happiness returns.

Would i be a good CSI investigator? How about a criminal profiler. I could do that.

When I first got my dog, Parker, I wanted to kill him. I think I had postpartum depression. Anyway, he was an annoying little puppy and I wished he would run away and/or get hit by car.

How my sentiments have changed. At 2am, I let Parker out by himself since I was a) too lazy to put on my glasses and shoes, b) wanting to do something on the computer. He didn't come back for a good twenty minutes and I started to freak, just a little bit. Usually, he comes back after five minutes, but this was way too long.

I ran around the neighborhood shaking a cup of dog food, trying to lure him back into my arms. Unlike the previous months, where I wished he would just disappear, I really wanted him to come home.

After ten minutes of searching, I gave up. I know, I have such drive and motivation to find my beloved dog that I lasted a whole ten minutes. I hopped into bed and hoped that by morning he would be at my doorstep. Once I got under the covers, I heard tiny scratches on my door. Parker came home!

Oh, how I missed that bugger. He came home to me. He loves me and I him!

Billy Madison would scream at me for giving up so easily.

When it rains, the pimps come out. Business men with big long umbrellas use their portable awnings as pimp canes.

I love him.

Apparently, my previous booty call is dating a girl that is a graduate student at the same university where I work.

First, I never could imagine us dating. We are two different people. Second, I'm not attracted to his yoga-ness. And third, he's a year or two younger, and you know how I don't like them youngings (except the boy in Kentucky. yum yum!).

Just because I didn't like him doesn't mean that he couldn't pine for me. Damn mutual dislikings!

Does Arwen serve a purpose?

Yesterday, I went to lunch with my dad at Chili's. They have a promotion where you can color in a blank chili and have it posted on the walls for a $1. All proceeds go to cancer research, which is a very good marketing idea.

I was like, "Cool. I'll draw while I wait for Pops. I filled in the blank chili pepper as beautifually as I could with crayola crayons. Then, I wrote on the meat of the pepper, "WORK BLOWS." Next, I created huge blood drippings coming out of the spicey vegetable and then on NAME: I wrote in creepy lettering, "Anonymous Disgruntled Employee."

I am the smartest man alive. It took me ONE year to figure out that I could move my printer close to my chair. Orginally, the printer sat about three feet behind me (my desk is huge), and I had to twist my chair and bend my back to reach for the printing material. Today, I realized that I could avoid all backpain by moving the huge pieces of office equipment around and place the print next to me.

The thought never crossed my mind. Hmmm...

The pressures of running a research lab has taken its toll on my psyche. Last night, I dreamt that a cat was scampering around the lab. In addition to this white tiny animal, people that I hate seeing every day, namely the PhDs, were in my space. Anyway, papers were strewn, money was lost, faculty and PhDs covered every inch of my facility and this damn kitten kept dashing in and around the area. Finally, I took the white precious furry kit and slammed him against the wall a good five times...until one of his legs flew off of his delicate body.

I killed a kitten in my dream. I am going to hell.

I want to throw up. About three hours ago I ran into Maroon Five and I had a lengthy conversation. I LOVE HIM. I'm going to throw up.

I've never been so lonely in my life. The internet was down for at least an hour this morning.

Why do people own police-looking cars? Don't they know they're never get anywhere in a timely fashion? People will slam their brakes and drive like molasses thinking that the car behind them is the 5-0.

We should all gather the folks that own Crown Vics and large boat-like vehicles and send them to Singapore where they'll be flogged and caned.

I got nothing to say today, except that I hope I hear from the professors I emailed about writing grad school recs. /:-|

Anyone want to write a rec for me?

To the guy I just walked past: 1996 called. They want their "front-shirt-tuckedin" look back.

Here's a hint for all staircase users. Even though the stairs are wide, it doesn't mean that every inch should be taken by you and your posse. Just because you're part of the West Side Story gang and feel the need to walk in formation, you do not have the right to blockade the walkway. If you're going up and I'm going down, one of you will be smacked by my appendage. You and five of your friends need to scooch a little to make room for the other-direction people.

This goes to hallway walkers as well. I know your conversations are enthralling and you must hear every word of your walking companion(s), but if I need room to get through, someone will get hurt. Oh, and walk faster than a geriatric on Xanax. Passersby are obviously on their way to somewhere and that place ain't ya'lls asses.

I love the boy I met this weekend. His name is Maroon. Anyway, I called my dad because I wanted advice on how to get the man I love to talk to me. My dad said to:

1. Bump into him
2. Spill a drink on his clothes "by accident"

Then, he proceeded to tell me a story about a couple on Who Wants to be a Millionaire. The man met his wife in a traffic jam. They made eye contect. Next, the "pretty nice" lady wrote her phone number on a piece of paper and pressed it on the driver side window so the "kind of a nerd" could copy it.

3. Women can take initiative. Now go to bed and I'll see you on Wednesday.

I thought I had a new gay best friend. We had fun playing beer pong and joking around, but now he asked me on a date.

Gay guys aren't supposed to ask their girlfriends on dates.

I wish I could block callers on my work phone. These people are fucking annoying and bitchy.

Is it me or are people on shows getting younger? The chefs, plumbers, and construction workers on these TLC-like shows are cute and youthful. Either they're casting younger people or I'm catching up to these olde people.

I remember watching cooking shows as a kid and thinking that the chefs were rickety and crotchety.

The most annoying commercial is the Littermaid Commercial with the woman chanting, "I'm cleaning the litter box." The director should die.

It was most cooling on my mustache.

I met my future ex-boyfriend. I love him. I want to make sweet love to the Maroon 5 singer look-alike muscleT wearing foo. :X. Ha.

Cameron asked if I am the ghostwriter for this girl's column. Of course I'm not, but that conjured a past memory of that great PBS show, Ghostwriter.

As a child, I wondered why these kids always wrote on colored paper. What twelve year old child has high quality colored sheets of paper laying around? I only had lined notebook paper to doodle on and write letters to friends. Because I am a genious, I did figure out that Ghostwriter needed to write on a non-white backgound so that the camera lighting didn't blind tv watchers.

Anybody with me?

Whenever I step on the scale, whatever befalls me afterwards experiences my rage.

Parker hides under the table if he sees me stepping on the weight scale. My parents can feel the negative vibes through the air and resists the temptations to call my cellphone and the neighbors tiptoe to prevent making any extraneous noises.

I tattled on my upstairs neighbor for stomping around like a freak on stilts. I'm on the lookout for scratches on my car door and flat tires.

Why do I start projects and never seem to finish them? The only hobby-like things I ever finish are fabric items of sorts. Hmmm.....

I am going to kill the stupid guy upstairs and his fucking lead feet. I will chop his feet, or should I bind them? I shall perform the Asian practice of feet binding, which will prevent him from ever walking. Native Chinese men are turned on by tiny feet so I'm sure he'll find a hot FuManchu like fellow to carry him and do his bidding.

I've become addicted to crossword puzzles. Never have I ever been able to finish one on my own, at least not without the help of the internet. Is that cheating? Are there crossword puzzle rules and regulations?

43 down, two letters, "Go to hell", i.e.

If I wrote a book, would you buy it?

I rewired my tv to the internet cable connector. As a result, I receive
three free cable channels: HGTV, Cartoon Network, and the Food Network.
Basically, I watch food shows all evening.

Why do cooks say, "I'm going to chop this tomato with my knife." What the hell?
Do they think that we will mistaken the knife for another utensil? I thought
we could cut vegetables with our fingers. Stupid unnecessary nouns.

Also, chefs love to hear their own voice because they incessently say,"I'm going to
stir the pot up. Be careful not to burn up all the cheese on top on here." Why do they
use so many prepositions? I know that the cheese is on top of the chips. The nachos are on tv.
I can see where "here" is. No need to point it out and make your sentences aboherrently
long.

Why do they have cooking shows with anorexic females? 98 lb females cooking fatty foods
is not realistic. Maybe if you filmed the skeletons for chefs purging the food they taste-tested, then
would the show be real.

Lastly, if this is a low carb show, the host does not need to state that each item he adds to the
dish is low-carb. It's the damn title of the show. It will be safe for the viewer to assume that
the chicken is low-carb, as well as the turkey.

I'm getting hungry down in my stomach as I sit here on top of my couch.

I hate when my shorts bunch up around my crotch. It only happens to fat people ipso facto, I'm fat you're fat.

Oh, Halloween. A very festive day. My plan is to take my little cousin and Parker (my dog) Trick-or-Treating. I could get drunk in Chapel Hill, but I rather get free candy.I have two ideas for a Halloween costume.

1) A lamp. I'll have a lampshade on my head and the leash will act as an electrical cord. Parker will be dressed as an electrical outlet.

2) A fisherman. I'll wear a fishman's hat, some golashes, and carry a net. The leash is a fishing pole/line and Parker will have on something resembling a fish.

I experienced Mother Nature's wrath yesterday. I left work early to go to Superwalmart to get an oil change for my new Honda. Parker was with me since I couldn't bear leaving him at home for another hour. Well, after the mechanic was done with my car, I tied Parker to a pole next to a tree so I could pay the man.

From inside, I could hear my dog yelping and barking. He's usually good about being quiet, but maybe he didn't like the garage scenery. Anyway, I went outside and he was going berzerk, trying to get out of his collar and yelping. I was like "CALM IT, BIOTCH!"

I went over to untie his leash when all of the sudden, I felt stings and pins in my feet. I looked down and thirty fire ants were on each foot, biting and seething with anger. Now it was my turn to sceam and yelp.

With all my might, I swiped the fire ants off me. However, those fucking devils would not take their pincers out of my skin. So the more I brushed them, the more they bit. Then, they were covering my flipflops so I couldn't run away. It felt like fifty heated needles stabbing my flesh.

Me and my dog looked like a bunch of senile epipleptics. He, on the ground, rubbing ants off of his body, me, flaying my arms, spinning in circles to make the ants "fly" off of me.

I've never been in so much traumatic pain in my life. Seeing sixty or so evil ants nawing at my appendages was horrifying. Mother Nature can go fuck herself.

So a PhD wants me to do her a favor and reduce the size of digital photos that I took FOR her. There are two hundred photos and I told her to pick up a few pictures instead of me changing 3482904 digipics. She goes, "Does it take long?"

Well, considering that I'm not obligated to do this and there's fucking two hundred pictures, yes it will take long. Any minute of my life doing this is using up my precious time.

OOO!! Halloween is fast approaching. It's my favorite holiday of the yazear! I should say Christmas is my fave and/or my birthday, but I can't. I LOVE DRESSING UP AS A HOOCHAY MOOMMMMAAAAAAAAAAA and getting free candy.

It is horrible when the only way you'll act nice to a person is when you think, "It could be worse. She could be a total conniving bitch with three eyes and a mouth that spits blood intermittently."

I DON'T WANT TO BE HERE. DIE!!!!!!!!

Blogger is being a bitch lately.

I've reached a crossroad in my life. For the first time, I dropped my business card into a fishbowl so that I can have a chance to win a "free lunch for five friends."

What is wrong with this picture? One, I have business cards. Two, I carry business cards. Three, I put one in the fishbowl. Four, I want a free lunch. Five, I only have four friends.

If I'm at a coffee shop and they're blaring shitty Kenny G "music", shouldn't I be able to play mp3s from my laptop at a reasonable level? I think so.

sdfdslfds;alfksd;lfk sa;what the hell is with the "document contains no data" bullshit?

cranky mccrankster on line three.

cranky mccrankster on line three.

cranky mccrankster on line three.

cranky mccrankster on line three.

cranky mccrankster on line three.

cranky mccrankster on line three.

cranky mccrankster on line three.

I FOUND the LOVE of my life. Except he's married.

He walked into the lab, wanting to do a survey, and all I wanted was to kiss him. I love him.

I finally transfered 500 mp3s from my laptop to my computer at work. No longer do I have to drag the 43 lb portable computer to work. Now, I can blast Backstreet Boys through real speakers! Oh, the joy of boy bands.

Whatcha talking bout, Willis?!

BAH BAH BAH BAH!! WAH WAH WAH WATER BOY.

umm..yea nothing. nothing at all.

I had something, but then I lost it on the way to the internet.

I'm at Panera using their internet to do some worky work. I feel superior to all these fogies who don't know how to use computers. It's sad when you have to go to a bread shop to feel better about yourself.

What the f-ing dilly? My feet hurt because I'm wearing heels to work for the first time in months. I think I saw 1 cute person in this mass of first year MBAs or that could have been the poster of Ben Affleck hanging on the bulletin board. Damn peripheral vision.

Sarah and I have a new goal. Do 100 situps each day for a month.

So, looks like I avoided gossip columns for an entire week. How did I do it? By keeping myself busy with porn.

In addition, I managed to slather lotion on my dry body, rather than slopping it on my non-dry body (wet sounds perverted) and wiping it off with my shower towel.

Things I failed to accomplish this week:
1. Picking up my doggie's poop. It's hard to pick up poop when you've run out of baggies and don't have your glasses on to see.

2. Typos. Impossible.

3. Cursing. That is going to take a while. Cursing is a part of me and I don't want to deny myself.

I feel very hopeless. While perusing the profiles on match.com, I found two guys that were actually pleasing to my eyes (out of the 1000 men). However, it seems like the guys I like only want to date white girlies. WHAT UP WITH THAT?!

I guess it serves me right since I only want to date white boys. I'm racist. /:(

My ass hurts.

I don't have time to formulate my thoughts since I've been so busy at work. One thing has boggled my mind for some days. When a person leaves a comment on a blogsite, should the blogger reply to the comment on his/her own site, or go to the commenter's site and leave the answer? Comment etiquette is quite tricky. Maybe I'll put together a blogging handbook, for those silly novices.

Does butter go bad?

Hooray! I've completed two things on my list of 101 Things to Do in 1001 Days. I watched Harold and Kumar 2night and it was hilarious..and I didn't have to pee once! The short movie length definiately helped because I wouldn't have been able to do it watching LOTR or Harry Cooter. Also, I hosted a forum today, all by myself and didn't get nervous. So number 56 and 68 are crossed. Only 99 Things to go!

I'm a big fan of The Onion, so to pay tribute to the grand publication, I wrote my own columns. Here we go

Man Buys Minivan, Hates Family
John David, 32, from Weekhaukus, MI fell victim to the old adage, "Kill me if I ever buy a minivan." David, an avid fan of anything fast on wheels succumbed to the pressures of family-hood. David states, "I've been a firm believe that anyone who purchases a minivan must be an old tool. Get me out of this marriage and family shit. I can't take it." He left the car lot with the keys to a brand new five star Chrysler Minivan, three screaming kids and an overweight wife.


6th Grader's Note Checked Yes
Sixth grader, Tom Winnow, passed a secretive note in math class today. The blue lined piece of paper, neatly folded into a rectangular, was labeled "To Sarah." It is reported that the note came in contact with three different people before arriving at its destination. Sarah, slightly hesitant, opened the letter and was faced with the ever-perplexing question: "Do you like me?"

Many notes of this nature have been found in schools across America. No one knows how it got started, but this type of correspondence shows similar patterns to the chain-letter effect.

Unlike the standard "Yes" and "No" answers with the check boxes next to them, Winnow's letter included an extra option: "Maybe." That gave Winnow an edge. An insider in Mrs. Sloan's math class informs that Sarah did in fact liked Tom and checked, in fervor, the box next to "Yes."

The couple has set a date to meet at the school's gymnasium to exchange IM screennames.


Turd Tracked in House, Not Mud
It was reported that the brown colored mud tracked into the Stanford's front portion of the house is in fact, dog feces and not mud as previously thought. "At first I figured that I stepped in a puddle of mud since it rained for the past four days, but then I got a whiff of that shit and almost puked," said seventeen-year-old Bryker. Bryker was promptly reprimanded by Colleen Stanford, his mother. Mrs. Standford stated that it was not the first time that idiot walked inside the house and dragged dog shit all over the white carpet.

Immediately after the incident, a new rule was instated; All persons must remove their shoes at the door before entering. Mrs. Stanford credits the "no shoe in the house" idea to that Chinese guy from Trading Spaces.

updated my About Me section bc it kept redirecting people to an unrelated page. :P

I'm at www.hotornot.com. Why? Because I'm bored. Here are some tips to those picture posters:

1. Comb your hair. It doesn't take much to pick up a brush and detangle that mess.
2. Swipe that oily off your face. Grease and flash do not mix.
3. Close your shirt. That's why God made buttons.
4. I do not need to see what's in your nostrils so please aim the camera away from your nasal passges. If you're striving for the "cocky look," avoid photographing your boogers.
5. Pictures need to be bigger than .5 inches and smaller than 10 inches. No need to get the magnifying glass or scroll the webpage.
6. No bathing suits or lingerie allowed.
7. Get your ratails cut. It's only $4.99 at Supercuts.
8. Standing near, around, or in front of a large vehicle does not make you look sexy. The car probably isn't yours.
9. Leave all military gear in the closet. Dressing in fatigues does not make you look hotter, just dumber.
10. Take pictures with a decent camera. Camera phones will not do neither will webcams.
11. Try to smile. It will make your ugly face look a tiny bit better.
12. Compliments of Cameron: If you are a guy, you should a)not make gay foto collage of yourself b) if you do make gay ass foto collage do not assume some homoerotic fabio pose where you are holding your shirt open like front cover of trashy grocery store romance novel

Until today, I thought the phrase "pipe dream" was coined because pipes are long , byzantine, and impossible to follow, similiar to untangible dreams. But now I know that "pipe dream" was derived from the dreams one has when smoking an opium pipe.

Have you ever seen trucks with rocks flying out of their beds with a sign posted on its bumpber stating, "Not responsible for cracked windshield. Stay 300 feet away."

Last I checked, rocks don't fly in one single direction; they disperse in every direction. So, if I'm driving next to the truck and a rock damages my car, he is sure as shit going to be responsible. 300 feet my ass.

Ok I just updated the List of Things to D:
50. sing "Here I go Again" at a Kareoke bar
51. dance on the PBs bar
52. strip at Amatuer Night
53. make out with a girl
54. go on a date with a software developer
55. take a tree stick, poke it through a biker's wheel and make him fall
56. not get nervous during a presentation
57. use the AC in the car for the whole entire ride to Raleigh without turning it down/off
58. not watch DVDs for a week
59. not touch a computer for a week
60. get engaged to a hot guy (compliments of Sarah)
61. buy a usb key
62. learn metric table
63. do a headstand for 60 seconds
64. treat myself to the spa
65. wear bottlecap glasses to the bar
66. go to dinner with Cass (my bros exgf)
67. have an entire IM convo with NO TYPOS (at work, 5 hrs or more!)
68. sit through an entire movie in a real movie theater and not pee
69. do that fishingline/catching a fish dance with a stranger at the club-bar
70. give someone a ride and not worry about gas tank
71. go on a date with an active member of the military
72. subscribe to cable tv
73. be curse-free for three days
74. drink only water for a week
75. pass by a dog and look at the owner, not just the dog
76. eat a McDonald Happy Meal
77. at the car tool booth, pay for the dude behind me
78. not mention to Cameron about my "back pains" and menstrual cycle for two months
79. call my grandparents every weekend for a month
80. dry myself completely before putting on lotion for a week
81. smack a hot guy's ass (must be complete stranger and not at a bar)
82. touch a girl's nipples (must not know her beforehand)
83. pee in the snow
84. visit Vegas
85. wash car once a week for a month
86. do the tango in a public restroom
87. play at a kids playground (hopscotch, jumprope, the works)
88. have a BBQ or picnic on top of a New York City building's rooftop
89. say hi and make eyecontact with all the gross ugly guys that say hi to me for one day
91. successfully sprout beans
92. send one care package every three months
93. make out with an 18 year old
94. style hair for an entire week
95. do the Carlton on the streets asking for change from passersby, cup to hold money
96. read a new book a month for a year (at least 200 pages)
97. kiss a frog on the lips
98. grab a guy's crotch (didn't know him beforehand)
99. pick up my doggie's poop for a week
100. swing on one of those lake tire swings
101. use a sewing machine and make something useful

I hate it when people reply to emails and their reply messages are at the very bottom of the email. Who the hell wants to scroll five feet down to read one insignificant sentence? NOT ME.

Anywho, I also hate it when people leave me notes and place it RIGHT ON my computer screen, keyboard, or mice. If you place that post-it note or huge piece of paper next to my essential working tools, I'll see them. There is no need to tape a 8x11 note on my lamp.

In addition, if you bring a huge box of supplies to my lab, you can place it on my desk. No need to plomp it down on my chair. I will see the 10lb box of papers and pens. What? Am I going to sit in my chair and go, "Ouch. What have I just sat upon? Oh it's a huge fucking box of shit. My bad for not seeing it."

*I only have 49! HELP MEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!*

Because I am bored, I am copying this guy's.

The Mission: Complete 101 preset tasks in a period of 1001 days.
The Criteria: Tasks must be specific (ie. no ambiguity in the wording) with a result that is either measurable or clearly defined. Tasks must also be realistic and stretching (ie. represent some amount of work on my part).

Starting Now!

1. visit California
2. go to graduate school
3. adopt a dog from those pet societies (for at least a week)
4. try ecstacy and make it work
5. hug a Wal-Mart employee
6. drink a milkshake from Cook-Out!
7. travel afar to meet someone from the internet
8. visit Hawaii
9. visit my dad in Winston-Salem and actually stay there overnight
10. learn three long-winded sentences in Mandarin
11. not make fun of my brother's chin pubes
12. wake up on a Monday and not want to murder someone
13. fly a kite
14. meet a celebrity and totally shun him/her
15. feel guilty for shunning a celebrity and ask for autograph and/or pic
16. paint another portrait
17. bring Cameron a housewarming gift
18. befriend a marijuana drug dealer
19. pass by someone wearing tapered pants and say hi
20. bartend
21. run 5K in under 28 minutes
22. eat a chocolate covered bug
23. do a cartwheel in a museum
24. kiss a homeless man on the lips
25. swim in a lake EWWW
26. have sexuals in the movie theaters
27. snowboard
28. learn how to kill someone in just one move
29. watch an entire Bruce Lee movie without falling asleep
30. watch Matrix 3 for the second time
31. not poop for one day
32. tell someone fat that they need to lose weight
33. tell someone skinny that they need to lose weight
34. drink 1/3 a bottle of tobasco sauce
35. work a full 8 day for one week
36. hold a two minute conversation with heebijeebie neighbor
37. invite neighbor for drinks
38. go on a date with someone I meet from the grocery store
39. not read any gossip columns (paper or online) for a 7 days straight
40. be vegan again for a month
41. treat my aunt for dinner
42. treat my dad to lunch two times in a row
43. win at least $5 on the lottery
44. learn how to play poker
45. take a pic sitting on Santa's lap
46. tickle a mall cop
47. fart really loud in a bookstore and pretend nothing happened
48. smoke an entire cigarrette
49. get Parker drunk
50.

It was lunch with pops day today. I told him about my plans of moving to the forest and hunting my own food, instead of working for someone else and buying food from the grocery store. Dad said that he used to dream about living in the mountains and growing his own stuff (by stuff, I assume vegetables). I guess the apple doesn't fall far from the treet, now does it?

Is it legal to put death threats on the internet? I am angry and I want to kill someone. But it has to be someone people care about, someone people love and hate at the same time. Actually, I don't want to kill anyone, I just want to punch him in the face. Yes, it has to be a male, not a female. My aggression shall be displaced on a young male, about yay high and with brown hair. He would have to be beefy so my first punch won't knock him down because I want to wail on him for at least a good ten minutes. Any volunteers?

Oh and I got a 5.5 out of 6 on the writing portion of the GRE. Thanks blogspot! WOO HOO!

You know whats annoying?
When some guy tells you you've lost weight. I mean, I dont want him to notice that shit because then obviously I was fat enough for him to notice me being less fat. I don't think anyone should tell anyone if they've lost or gain weight if they are not close personal friends. Nobody likes a fattie.

Nowadays, radio stations play Black Eyed Pea's "Lets Get it Started" and not their offensive original version, "Let's Get Retarded."

However, while I was in New York they blared the objectionable version on Z100. It was 1am and we were on the way to Crobar when the song came on. Chris turned up the radio and everyone in the car started acting real retarded, flaring their arms and singing the song.

So do radio stations think people with mental retardation do not stay up past 1am, making it okay to play the derogatory song or do they play it because anyone listening to Z100 is retarded?

i am so indecisive when it comes lunch time. i can't decide whether to go home and play with parker or go on a walk during lunch. My wavering tendencies are so bad I have to whip out a quarter and play heads or tails.

I saw another cute doctor guy today! He has spikey blonde hair and wears blue scrubs. I shall name him Justin Timberlake.

I'm a sloucher. I slouch. How do humans remedy the proclivity for bad posture if our genetic makeup is based on slouching monkeys?

YAY! Another quote on the internet! Go to Tuesday, August 3rd. :P

Ew. My friend madeout with a married guy. This is why I'm not going to get married. Men and their damn penii.

I hate North Carolina. Get me outta here!!!

I'm so fucking depressed that I'm back.

Going to NY for a week.  Entertain yourself with other bloggies such as GFrys, A Bunch of Whores.

I might meet JWLATT. If i dont come back, that means he's murdered me and thrown my body into the East River.

 

i hate it when i'm so busy in the office that i dont have time to do my work such as write a good blog entry, check my email, take a hearty poopy, eat a nice breakfast, call my family and take a quick nap.

The epitome of lazy is if you read the newspaper but fail to turn to the 'continued on whatever page' because that's too much work.

I cannot believe I forgot my brother's birthday. What kind of sister am I?

In order for me not to kill my upstairs neighbor for the constant stomping and jumping around, I make myself believe that for every noise he makes, that means someone is thinking about me/loves me.

FUCKIN SHIT! I rather have no one love me than put up with Irishjig dancer's shit.

OH MY GOSH. Is my alcoholism that apparent?

The delivery guy goes "Have a good weekend. Be safe. You look like you drink a lot."

Me so shrewd and cunning. Instead of walking all the way to the copy center, I go to the nearest public printer and steal stacks of white paper.

I'm so nervous about the GREs. I'm already nauseous and irritable.

I wish i could just quit everything and sit on a log and do nothing. UGH! I HATE LIFE!

Doesn't it seem as though the bank tellers are getting younger? I remember matronly women givnig me lollipops, not these young men in ties and girls with breasts hanging out of their button-down shirts.

It's really embarressing when you go to the bank to dispute a transaction and they see your account balances which are like $50 and $80.

I don't understand why all males like video games. What is it about the Xbox and Playstation that can occupy a man's attention for 5 hours? How can a guy sit on his ass holding a joystick for hours, but can't go to the mall and shop for thirty minutes? PEONS!

Why does it take forever for the fax machine to pick up? It's not like someone has to run to the phone to press start to receive transmission. Fuckers.

Anyone ever try pot brownies?

'member, i'm a guest blogger at G-fry till next week. Damn, does this mean I gotta come up with stuff to write over the weekend? Tonight should prove to be entertaining. It includes, dogs, demeral, naked musical chairs, and David from Tennessee.

What I Learned at Lunch with my Dad Today:

How to be a succesful drug dealer:
Don't go to the bad neighborhoods, go to the places where the white upper-class reside. However, be careful of the ones that are "gun shy." It's best if you just dealt with musicians. They love that shit.

Why it's good to be young and cute:
You'll get more tips. Men are happy to get young girl servers. They'll tip you better just because you're pretty. Women don't care either way. They just want good service.

Homosexuality is more prevalent than you think:
A girl whistles at all pretty girls - she may be gay.
A girl rubs your wife's arm for a full two minutes and says "OOO, feels so good" - she may be gay.
The chef hates women- he might be gay.
The cook incessantly speaks about his brother's good looks - he might be gay.
Your little cousin hates germs and bugs - he might be gay.

I'm sad today. I'm sad that all these freaks have books and I don't have one. I want a book, but I dont actually want to write a book..well more like I dont want to write a proposal to get a book made..and perform all the little steps that go into making a book. I just want some magic geenie to go, "POOF! Here's your book and its in the clearance section of Barnes & Nobles "

Martha Stewart its pretty for an old lady about to go to jail. She's like the MacGyver in the home. She can make a functional lamp with just a shoebox, sticky tape, and three paperclips.

When Parker throws up he eats his regurgitations. He's an eco-friendly pup.

Me guest poster on G-fry's blogs this week. HMM..this could get interesting. I do have that story about Sugar Ray look-a-like and the KY.

College Quotes..HILARIOUS! Thanks to Mr. G-fry, I haven't studied a thing today. I've spent my day reading college quotes and reminiscing about the days of yore.

Things I hate

I am sad that nobody loves me.

There's this guy, we'll call him Mark.

Mark is unfocused, poor, and young. Mark is cute, sexy, and fun to play with. I don't want Mark as a boyfriend or any kind of friend. Although I don't want him, I want him to want me. So why doesn't he want me? I mean, he's not even good enough for me so why is HE dissing me? That fucker.

My laziness is at its pinnacle.

I'm eating scrambled eggs out of a sandwhich bag because washing tuppeware is too complicated.

Instead of buckling my seatbeat when the annoying warning beeping sound goes off, I turn up the radio.

This headline appears in the New York Times today: "Experts Set a Lower Low for Cholesterol Levels" -New recommendations call for drug treatment for millions of Americans who had thought their cholesterol levels were fine.

The headline should read: "We Lowered Standards so You'll be Forced to Buy Expensive Drugs. As You Throw Money at Pharmaceuticals We get Rich with Kickbacks."

Excuse, me. But how do people have so many comments while I have like seven?

Is it because

A) I have no friends
B) my friends suck and don't like to leave comments
C) lack of comments means a "successful" blog
D) people know i want comments so they decide to leave none out of spite.
E) comments in other blogs are fake submissions by the authors.

Why does God make waking in the morning so damn hard?

The first thoughts that run through my head in the morning are, "Why, God Why?!?" "Kill me now," and "I hate life."

Then 1.4 minutes later, I'm wide awake and ready to roll.

Inquiring minds want to know why I hate my dog. I don't really hate Parker, rather, I despise his devilish ways. For example, yesterday, i went to the coffee shop for two hours and came back to an apt covered in shredded paper and dvds. The little heathen ripped apart my work papers and opened up the dvd case and strewn every illegally burned dvd I had all over the floor. Other than the random acts of vileness, I love my dog. We snuggle and play and engage in bestality from time to time.

i hate my dog.

You are aging if you:

1. brush your teeth at 9pm

2. wonder who the hell is calling you at 10pm

3. pay health insurance, dental insurance, rental insurance, car insurance, pet insurance, rent, car payment, AAA, and groceries

4. disapprove of the short shorts girls wear

5. use the word "hooligan"

6. find MTV offensive

7. think the people on Real World look too young

8. fast walk as exercise

9. think Dilbert is so damn funny

10. drink craploads of coffee starting at 7pm to make it through the night at the bar

11. look at teenage drivers with disdain

12. no longer fight for the right of 18 year olds to drink alcohol

13. have a sexual desire for men that happen to be wearing suits

14. make stupid lists about signs of aging

My babyboo (Parker) had his testicles chopped off yesterday. I picked him up from the vet and stowed him home (after paying a damn near $300 bill). He was doped up on drugs and wore one of those lampshade collars. It was hilarious. Parker stumbled, walked into walls, and fell into several bushes.

Parker is growing up to be just like drunken mommy.

The following should die:

1. people with nonsensical personalized license plate, e.g. 'MISS,' 'TINKRBEL,' and 'SOCRMOM.'

2. drivers who like to pause and admire traffic lights turning from red to green.

3. brides that wear long, ugly, lacey viels.

4. skinny girls that can eat anything they want

5. people who love the sound of their voices and can't live without hearing themselves talk for more than 45 seconds.

6. people with more money than me.

These PhDs are running around like chickens with their heads cut off. It's very sad, but amusing. This is why I am not steering clear of research in my graduate studies. I don't want to be a chickenhead!

There's nothing scarier than recording yourself dancing with a digicam and watching the debacle.

Engaging in such activities does nothing to elevate self-confidence levels.

I downloaded "Pour some Sugar on Me" by Def Lepard so I could relive all the moments I've had at this bar that plays cheesy 80's music when it's time to kick people out.

Now that I'm hearing this song sober, it sounds really crappy. What posessed me to illegally download this song? Is it alcohol that makes shitty old hit songs sound good or is it the fact that you're grinding with an attractive person of the opposite sex as shitty music kills your eardrums?

I never thought I would feel like vomiting after seeing wedding announcements of my classmates. It never occured to me that people my age, that graduated in my highschool class, would be getting hitched.

I am so far from the whole married thing that it stuns me that people have succumbed to the institution of marriage.

Maybe its the tinge of jealously that's making my nauseous or the scrambled eggs I ate this morning.

Who allowed Ashlee Simpson to make an album. Jessica already floods the airwaves. I don't need to hear her little sister as well.

My dog hates me.

Another Tip of the Day: Do not open your computer and remove wires from hardware without first turning off the computer.

Tip of the Day: Do not drive with your knees after putting body lotion on them.

My relationship with Parker is sick and unusual. We snuggle, kiss, and play with each other constantly. When I carry him, he licks my ears and neck, the most sensitive areas of my body. It's like he knows what turns me on. Pretty gross aye?

I came across the funniest website: Humor in the News.

I'm choking on two Target Brand Advil-like pills. I hate it when those pills lodge in limbo. They're not in my mouth and not in my stomach, but hanging to dear life on the edge of my esophagus.

A fellow, about the same age as me, recently moved into the apartment above mine. I have never spoken to the young man but from the bits of information I've gathered about him, this is what I believe he is and does.

Vtech boy is a recent graduated from Rule, Virginia and is doing a co-op at the Glaxo across the street. He often feels lonely so he travels home to Virginia every weekend to hang with his ole' buddies.

Since he knows nobody in Durhole, NC, he sits in his apartment and plays video games. Whenever he feels extremely bored, he practices the Irish Jig. His life-long dream is to join the Riverdance Coup and make his fortune as a backup dancer to that perverted blonde-haired sweaty freak, leader of the
Irish dancing group.

Sometimes Vtech boy feels really fat so he straps on ankle weights while he does household cleaning. In order to burn enough calories from the haggas he eats for dinner, he makes sure that with every step, he walks on his heels. He feels no need to tip-toe or walk silently because he remembers that one day he will be famous
for his fancy foot steps and everyone in the apartment complex should be able to say that they've heard him walk and dance.

On occasion, he becomes too lathergic to bounce around in his apartment and has no energy pick up items. Instead, he kicks furniture around for personal amusement and throws books and small projectiles at the television in order to change channels. Also, he drops heavy items to alert his neighbors that he's alive
and well. He fears that if it becomes too quiet, the neighbors will think he's passed out from the sheer exhaustion of dancing and mistakenly call 911.

The most digusting thing to encounter is a trashcan without plastic lining.
It only takes three seconds out of a lifetime to line a trashcam with an old shopping bag.
Using a bathroom with an undecorate trashcan is so putrid that I want to take a shower for the fear
of coming in contact with deadly germs. I hesitate to throw away any materials in an
unadorned trashcan because it's worries me to know that someone will have to fish unsanitary items
from the trashcan in the near future.

Tip of the day: Place a baggie of sorts in every container meant for
containing disposable items.

When are you too old to wear cool clothes?

I'm 23 and still wearing the same old Abercrombie threads I've tramped around in since age 16. Currently, I'm adorned in gray tennis shorts and a torquise t-shirt to match. Both blatantly advertise the A&F brand.

All my clothes are too short and too tight for an old lady, but I'm sure not an old lady yet. Yes, I go to bed at 9pm; yes, I have a dog and he's the only being I bestow affection; yes, I have a many many bills that I never realized I would ever have; and yes, I've only kissed two boys in three years. But that doesn't make me a hag, or does it?

Maybe I should trade in my old digs for a new wardrobe from Chico's.

The cliche, "Don't judge a book by its cover," should be made obsolete.

With modern day technology bringing about a well-developed printing press, book covers are no longer mundane, but brilliant graphic works of art. When I walk through the library stacks, I choose books with vibrant book covers and funky font.

If the cover includes pictures of females, body parts, clothing, and/or cityscrapers I know its a story about a female and her trials with sex, relationships, and shopping. I skip those with dull brownish/gray coverlettes and courier writing. A novel about a 16th century character and his quest for the fountain of youth does not stimulate my sexual bone.

Interesting how the past four books I've read have been pink.

I get weirded out by strange people reading my blog. Do they ever come back? Are the entertained enough to bookmark my page? Do they expect me to peruse their blog? Hmmm...

The library lady would not check out books for me because I exceeded the check out limit, which is six. I, apparently, was under the age of 18 and "restricted" from borrowing more than six books at a time.

"Mam, how old are you? Do you have a license?"

Not only am I five years older than the restricted age limit, but I can read four books in a week. I am not about to return to the library after three days to check out additional novels. It's dangerous enough that I'm driving in downtown Durham, risk getting shot or kidnapped to satisfy my intellectual side.

Maybe I should take her misjudgement of my age as a compliment.

Do you think it's weird that I make bookcovers for books I check out from the public library?

I don't want whatever filth and slime people get on the books and return to the library. The thin piece of wrapping paper between me and the orginal bookcover has a calming affect; it prevents me from catching any possible viral disease stuck on the plastic sheeth.

Nothing brightens up my day more than going to the gas station before work and having a derelict say, "I wished I had the opportunity to lick your fingers and toes."

Let's see...what to write about?

I could tell you about the downstairs doctor knocking on my door asking for a half a cup of milk, or I could mention that huksyboy was laying out by the pool with his lover, or I could talk about I've been scouring match.com for hot guys in the North Carolina region but have found none so far.

I shall stick to the basics and provide reasons why I'm about to have a mental breakdown.

1. There's nothing constructive to do at work at the moment. I'm watching DVDs and studying for the GREs at work. Guilt has overcome me.

2. I got the GREs in a month. I don't know how to convert fractions or simplify exponents and do people ever use words like chicanery and cantanknerous?

3. I want to get another dog so Parker has a friend to play with while I'm gone. What do you think about a female Jack Russell, named Bella Abercrombie?

4. My father won't let me cancel my debt with him. I had this great plan that if I returned the Explorer, the money I would have received from selling the car would repay the debt. But noooooo. He wants real money and not that pile of crap.

5. The craving for sweets annoys me. I'm losing weight for the trip to NY.

6. Netflix is not fast enough to appease my DVD longings. I only watch shows that come in DVD format. Commercials and the feeling of abandonment at the end of each show on regular tv is too much to handle.

7. I want a hot boy like 16-year-old Thomas from KY. He would be my sex slave and nothing more. I do not want him to talk or bother me. I just want him answer at my call. Such items are hard to find in the triangle area.

8. I'm going to rot and die in North Carolina. The humidity as sucked all happiness.

Everytime i see a movie with asians, I can't help but feel bitter I'm not in it. Damn racist media moguls.

No one ever warned us about the expensivity (yes just made up a new word) of food. They should have made us take budgeting classes in highschool: stuff we actually need in the real world. Who the hell uses trigonometry?

There's this creepy old Italian guy that works in the same building. He frequents the hotel gym that I use and feels free to speak to me whenever he pleases. It irks me when a guy talks to me when I'm sweaty and half naked. I'm in a vulnerable position and he's asking me personal questions. It's quite uncalled for.

When we walk the halls, he screams my name and asks me how I am. Doesn't he get the clue that I don't like old hairy men?

I wonder if he has a cute hot Italian son.

If I was in one of those old school battles where there were like 7843 men on horses, I would be completely clueless. I would be one of those horsemen in the back of the herd asking "Hey, what the hell is the King saying? What's going on? Are we charging yet? My ass is starting to hurt sitting on this saddle."

It's great stalking gay guys. There is no threat of them reciprocating interest, they always look good, and they don't care about a crazy Chinese girl walking around their cars and apartment buildings with her dog.

I hit on a 17 year old pool boy at the country club in KY. He was hot as shit, looked like an Abercrombie model, and had the cutest face.

I told him to come to our hotel to party and I would show him what Demi does to Ashton on a daily basis.

Quotes generated from a road trip to Kentucky to watch a country club family intermingle with ho-down country folk for a wedding.

1. Why is it called pinching a loaf? Poop is cylindrical and a loaf is more boxy. It should be called 'pinching a baguette.'

2. I will hold your vagina muscles for you.

3.

Umm..more to come as the day progresses

The cafeteria is closed, there's no healthy food in the snack machine, and I'm starving.

I've taken a small package of M&Ms that I left for the participants, removed the chocolate covering and fished out the peanut to eat.

WTF?

Guys are like doggies. They'll do anything for a little pet on the head.

I saw huskyboy in gay getup and he was walking his dog with another man.

It makes sense that Huskyboy is gay. I mean, he looks good, he's got nice hair, and I'm attracted to him.

The longer I am without booty, the cuter the guy upstairs looks.

On Friday, I went shopping during my lunch break. I came back with a new car.

I feel so sad this morning and I don't know why. Maybe because I didn't have the guts to go up to Yellowshirt boy at the mall and give him my digits. I was looking kind of nappy and didn't have any gum so those were my main deterrents in conversing with abercrombie manager look-a-like.

You think doctor offices make up random charges?
You think you paid them off, but then two months later you get another bill in the mail. Bastards.

No matter how prepared you are before going to the car dealership, you'll always lose. It's like the casino, the house always wins.

Appear like you're working but really talking on the AIM.

1. Print random documents. Get colored paper and print more random documents. Staple documents together and place them in manilla folders.

2. Pick up the phone and dial your voicemail. Say aloud "Hi, this is John from Yada Business. I'm looking for Gene Hizeman. Ok. Just leave him a message that I called."

3. Open Microsoft Word and type away. Keep your IM boxes small and in the corner. People in your lab/office can't see or hear the difference.

What an huge letdown-morning.

I began the day with a quick morning walk around the neighborhood. I figured I wouldn't see anyone important since it was around 6:15 and toasty. As I finishedone round around the complex, I spotted Husky running out of his apartment with his dog.

"Oh happy thrilling day!" I screamed to myself. I cut through the building, ran into my apartment, strapped the leash on Parker, and jet through the bushes. I wanted to cut Husky's path so our dogs would meet and he would be forced to talk with me. Parker was dragged across the concrete for about an eighth of a mile.

I saw Husky down the road, both of us restraining our canines as we approached each other. I was imagining our children when all of the sudden, he ran onto the grass, over the hill, and to the dumpster to "throw away his dog's poop."

Yea right. It was just a visual excuse not to talk with me. My stalking efforts would have succeeded if he didn't run away like that. Stupid bastard. He was on to me.

i ran out of utensils so i'm eating peas with two straws, like a pair of make-shift chopsticks.

i'm too lazy to go upstairs to use the microwave so i'm warming my peas under my lamp

This will be my match.com profile

Likes: Money, clothes, food, doing nothing and getting paid.

Dislikes: Bad breath, bad dressers, unclean cars, poor people.

Turnons: Fresh minty breath, guys who pay for everything without having to be asked, non-facial hairness, clean fingernails and toenails

Turnoffs: generic clothing, eye-boogers, wetdog smell

For Fun: I stalk my cute neighbors, talk on the IM, watch tv, and sleep

Type of body: Fit and toned, aka slightly pudgy.

I signed up for a free account at Match.com this morning. I was quite bored and curious about the men who participate in such dating endeavors. I assess an individual purely on looks alone. However, if there are two hot guys, I pick the one with an honest profile.

Why do people write inane profiles? "I like to laugh a lot." Who the hell doesn't, brotha'? "I like to go out and party and stay home to watch movies." You just described 98% of the other men signed up for the dating site.

Let's all try to be truthful and say, "I don't have any luck with real people so I'm getting dates through cyberspace. With the help of photoshop, girls will not run away from my below-avegae appearance and will attempt to get to know me by reading the bullshit I post."

Adding random text so that I can feel like I posted something this week, although nothing enlightening.

I hate my dog right now. He chewed on the cell phone recharger, so I'm at work, holding the wires together to add as much juice to my celly as I can. Damn bastard.

ugh. i'm going to go to some stupid professional psych school where diplomas are written on back of scrap paper and people get phds by seeing how many bottles of prescription xanax they can steal from the mental hospital.

How to be unemotionally involved with a hookup.

1. Do not spend the night over his house/apartment.

2. Do not ask for his name.

3. Do not give your phone number to him or take his.

4. Do not inquire about his AIM screen name.

List of Awkward Moments:

1. Walking down the up and down the hall passing the same person.

2. End a meeting with the bossman, then running into him two minutes later and ignoring each other.

3. Holding the door for someone while entering the bathroom, then hearing her poop.

4. Cutting someone off in the parking lot to get a good space and standing in the same line at the shopping center.

5. Talking to someone then realizing that you had spinach stuck to your teeth.

6. Someone knocks on your office and they can see you trying to get your shoes back on to open the door.

7. Talking to someone really nice and thoughts about them being fat and ugly pop into your head.

8. Walking around like you're so cool and then you trip over the sidewalk.

9. Running into the same apartment people that always comment on the weather or the size of my dog.

10. Stalking the neighbor with toilet paper hanging from the back of your shorts.

Don't you hate people that state the obvious?

Downstairsdoctor's car sat in same parking space for seven days and I began to wander where he went. Did he visit his girlfriend in another state? Did he go on a fabulous vacation out of the hell hole that is North Carolina?

The other night I ran down the stairs to take Parker to pee and I saw downstairsdoc going into his apartment. He heard my thunderous footsteps and looked up at me. I, like the stalker I am, asked, " Were you out of town?" He said he had been in Kentucky, chilling with his folks.

I noticed the sweat dripping off his muscular body, and I commented, "Did you just work out?" and he replied that he ran around the complex.

It's like adults have nothing better to say than stating the obvious. Instead of beating around the bush, we should get straight to the point and say, "Hey, I think you're cute. Let's get it on."

If you're over the age of forty, have a beer belly, and extremely pale, please keep your shirt on. I don't care how hot it is outside.

Am I perverted if I like to smell my puppy's stomach?

The way to a woman's heart is not showering her with compliments, but with money.

Dilbert is so funny!

What the hell is a G-unit?

Why is it when you ask someone to watch your stuff while you run to the bathroom, the person is no where in sight when you return?

Why is it that you have only fond feelings of the person who was the meanest to you?

Why can no one look good in tapered pants?

The nightlife is comparable baseball.

Frat parties are like college baseball teams. It's fun to watch and go for a while, but no one has a secure future. All the boys are immature alcoholic assholes.

Bars that allow 18 year olds are like the rookie teams. It's exciting knowing that everyone in the bar is legal to fuck, but there's no challenge in the game.

Clubs that allow only 21 year olds are like the minor A league teams. Everyone gets a lot of ass, lives in the now, and no one gives a shit about tomorrow.

Posh clubs that allow 18 year old girls and any guy over the age of 25 are like the major league teams. The members are highly paid, hot, knows how to please a women in bed and all the girls are willing to give up the poon for a free drink.

Guys cannot have just one girl. They must have many to satisfy their testosterone driven penises. Its like girls and shoes. Even though a girl may own and love one pair of shoes, she still has to buy additional pairs to wear when the beloved pair doesn't match her clothes. Girls must have a collection of footwear, just like guys must have a group of hoes.

Why do people come look for me during lunch hours? Don't they know that peons have to eat as well? I am not in the office at 12:33pm. I am still not in the office at 12:40pm. Stop dialing my number. I AM NOT HERE BECAUSE IT IS LUNCH TIME.

Universal Law states that from 11am to 1pm, productivity will cease.

Why is it when you go into a gas station, you come out smelling like a chain-smoking eighty year-old?

MA-ntras

"he's cute, but short"
"its not as bad as it seems"
"i don't feel good"
"i feel like ralphing"
"wt fucking f"
"wah wah wah"
"fucking shit"
"asshole"
"shitbag"
"eeeehhhhh"
"i'll think about it"
"i'll ponder the situation"
"what the shit are you talking about"
"they love that shit"
"wah tha fah?"
"T-T-Y-L"

Here's an email I sent to my friend's today:

yes too many damn interesting things.
after i left you and diamond, sarah called so i went
over there to chill and workout with her. after we
were done with our sheningens, i left her crib cuz it
was late. parker and I were on I40 west, on our merry
way home, having fun times together. its usually a
35minute drive so i was getting nice and comfy, about
to call krystal on the celly.

i passed an exit to cary and i was rolling down
the highway when suddenly my car slowed down, the
"check engine" light came on, and then the battery
light came on. i pulled over to the side of the
highway, goin 5mph. my car died right there, in front
of exit 290 Cary at 845pm.

I was in my workout clothes, tired, hungry, sweaty,
and with parkerpoo. I was like. "WTF. how the hell am
i going to get home. omg. i'm goin to die on the side
of the highway, this is goin to cost me an arm and i'm
hungry damnit"

I called triple A, was on hold for 10 minutes and got a
truck. I figured it was the fucking battery so i
told them to get tow truck just in case Millie was
unable to be recissitated. The triple A lady was like
" do you want the police to come out there for you?"
and all i could picture was mikey, ed and the rest of
the folks [these police recruits] comin to chill with me on the side of the
highway, waiting for towman.

ha. anywho, towman anthony came and checked out the
car. first, he was gion to install a new alternator
for me, then found out it wasn't the alternator, but
something with the fuel filter. so i was like fuck.
"how da hell am i giong to get home and how the f am i
going to get to work tomorrow?!"

anthony was nice and offered to take me home in the
towtruck. he was trying to figure out a way to take me
home and not have the boss know that he wasnt gion to
charge me for the ride cuz he felt bad for me and
parker. I got in the huge towtruck while he chained
up millie. when he got back into the truck, he started
laughing.

I was like "what you laughin about?" he said, "you
know your gas tank meter is empty?" and I said, "ohyea
its broken. i just filled it up the other day. i turn
back the mileage thingy everytime and ive only driven
80 miles today."

then..after like 30seconds in the truck with antnee,
i remembered i did go to the gas station fri night,
but it was closed. When i was on the road early morning saturday,
i knew that i went to the gas station the night before, so I
put my mileage thing back to zero, forgetting that I
DIDN'T get gas cuz it was closed. i was driving
around town with a near empty tank for two days.

I started crackin up and was like "it IS just the
gas! OMG THIS IS SOO EMBARRESSING" anythony, was
like"..its okay. ha"

so he took me to the nearest gas station in cary and
filled it up..and it was just that.. an empty gas tank
and not a fucked up engine. thank the lord praise
jesus.
anywho, so i tipped him 10 bux and went back on the
road.

very traumatic, didn't go to bed till really late, i'm
very cranky.

this story could have taken only three lines, but as
you can see i rather do this than work.

Do not ride in a car with an old person. It will feel like you're on a Carnival cruise boat headed towards a hurricane.

I sat in the backseat of car with my friend and her dad. Sarah is going to grad school in Chapel Hill and needs to find an apartment. I went along for the ride, wanting to lend a helping hand and be their personal tour guide, not knowing that I committed myself to a nauseating three hours of screaming and yelling. Her dad jerked here and there, making random stops and turns, causing me to want to hurl my turkey bacon sandwich that I ate for lunch.

People over the age of 50 should have their licenses revoked.

I love you Sarah! HA

How to tell if the person driving behind you is a cop.

First, check for antennas. Everyone knows that if a car has more than one antenna, then the driver must be a po-po or a red neck with a CB radio.

If you don't see any transmitting wires on the hood or the trunk of the suspicious vehicle, check for tinted windows. The 5-0 love to hide their faces behind shady glass.

Next, look for more than one side mirror and extra dash board contraptions. Boxy materials on the dashboard could be radar detectors, CB radios, or the blue light special. A telltale sign if the car is a police mobile is the reverse light on the back of the car. If you can spot something next to where a normal reverse light would be, and its a shape of a rectangle, then it is the police behind your ass.

Slow your car down, pretend that you weren't speeding and move over to the next lane.
Once he passes, then you can flip him off!

What is the proper etiquette to door-holding thank yous?

Say, you have three doors to go through before you arrive at your destination. The person in front of you happens to be going to the same place. He holds the first door wide open and looks back, so you loudly say thank you. He opens the next door, looks at you with the corner of his eye and you say thank you in a mild tone of voice. At the third door, he holds it open long enough for you to catch it, he doesn't turn around, and you only whisper a thanks.

I bypass all these awkward incidents, by going the long way, down the side entrance, which involves one door and no people.

I can never make a good exit.

When I part ways with a fellow friend, I end our meetings with a quick and humorous remark, leaving with a bang. However, two seconds after my grand departure, I remember that I forgot something, whether it be my ID card, keys, or cell phone. Returning for such an item kills all previously achievements as being a funny person. Either that or I have to sneak back without having to attract attention, avoiding any awkward re-greetings.

This morning, I talked to upstairssemicuteboy from back in the day, and I ended our enjoyable conversation with, "Bring in a schedule of your baseball team. Maybe I'll come to a game." We parted with giggles and chuckles, but as I walked down the stairs, I realized I left my ID card. "Damn," I thought to myself.

When I got upstairs, he heard my heavy footsteps, popped up from the cube and yelled, "You forgot your card! Its over there. Have a nice day NATALIE!"

How embarressing. When will I ever have a good exit?

Dad time is always fun time.

We were at Chili's today and chatted over lunch. I almost spewed my iced tea when he said the following:

-Our server is tripping. She's on something. I know. I was around it all in San Francisco.

-I only did pot. I didn't do anything else. I like the organic stuff. It makes you relax. The other stuff makes you tense and stressed.

Dad: Gays? Yea, you know I don't care. God created them. Hey, everyone in their lifetime probably experienced a gay something. I was around it in San Francisco.
Me: Dad, did you have homosexual tendencies?
Dad: Hey, you never know. I could turn gay after dealing with this marriage. I'll probably get along better marrying a gay guy. We could go gambling and horsetrack betting together.

I got nice and pretty to take Parker on a early morning walk to stalk Husky. We tramped around the neighborhood in hopes of running into his hotness.

I imagined myself walking towards Husky, our dogs running in excitement and getting their leashes tangled, causing both of us to and untangle the pups and we happen to look deeply into each other's eyes. And of course, falling head over heels in love.

But, to my grave disappointment, all I got to run into was some pervy maintenace worker fixing the cable box.

After my morning aerobic exercise, I showered and put on my makeup. Parker looked like he had to piss real bad so I slapped on my nappy wear and took him outside with the towel still wrapped around my head. Not only did I resemble a crazy housewife on crack, I had on shorts, that are now hoochie shorts since my ass decided to expand exponentially and the tanktop I wore lost all its elasticity from frequent washing.

The icing on the cake was when the downstairsdoctor came out of his apartment and I bent down, revealing my breasts and buttcrack, to pickup Parker before he got mauled by my dog.

I was feeling depressed this morning as I tried to jog. My fat rolls were hanging out and I could only run 14 miles per hour. But as I ran around the apartment for the second time, I spotted Huskyboy with his dog!

It's been too long since I've seen his hotness. This time, he was sans a baseball cap but with a muscle tee. I had previously thought he was a blondie, but to my pleasure, he has dark brown, almost black hair.

Guys, I think it's love at fourth glance.

Just because Clay Aiken is the most popular male singer, does not mean that every guy should wear a button down white collared shirt at the bars.

My grandma has more of a dating life than me. I didn't think I could ever feel this pathetic. HA.

I had the best morning!

I got to clean shit from Parkers crate for thirty minutes, didn't take a shower, skipped breakfast, and did my makeup in the car. My RA was forty-five minutes late and I spilled cola on my white skirt. I don't even get to go out for lunch because I'm running a study for faculty member during my usual eating time. I'm starving and subsisting on Jujyfruits and diet soda.