Saturday, April 23, 2005

"I No Longer Know How to Pray"

Well, to say things have reached a rough spot is too much of an understatement.

Here's the 411.

Adam and I are fighting. Again. Always. It's really agitating. Ahhhhhhh!

OK, I'm over the angst.

So I'm gonna blur through some details because I don't much feel like sharing them, but to make a long story really really short, so much for true love and delusions of grandeur.

Yeah. Everything is shit. I feel so alone even when I'm in a room full of people. It's not good.

I've hit a hard depression this week, and I think it's largely because I'm realizing how shitty things are.

Weird! I'm listening to my favorite Counting Crows song ever - "August and Everything After" - and it's on some kind of loop where it faded into itself. Craziness. And, no, I'm not on painkillers.

OK, so when I'm depressed (read - NOW), I listen to Counting Crows. So here's my favorite song lyrics.

"August and Everything After"

They’re wakin’ up Maria
‘cause everybody else has got some place to go
She makes a little motion with her head,
rolls over, and says she’s gonna sleep for a couple minutes more
I said I’m sorry to Maria
for all the cold-hearted things that I have done
I said I’m sorry by now at least once
to just about everyone

She says I’ve forgotten what I’m supposed to do today
And it slips my mind what I’m supposed to say
We’re getting older and older and older
and always a little further out of the way
You look into her eyes
and it’s more than your heart will allow
And August and everything after
you get a little less than you expected somehow

Well I stumbled into Washington Square
just as the sun began to rise
And I laid down on the lawn of the cathedral
and laid down and the shadow of St. Mary’s in the sky
And I’m just one of these late model children
waiting for the king
But there ain’t no sign of Elvis in San Francisco
it’s just me and I’m playin’ this rock and roll thing

She wants to be just like me
And I want every damn thing I can see
You know one day you’re Daddy’s little angel
The next day you’re everything he wanted you to be
They dress you up in white satin
and they give you your very own pair of wings
In August and everything after
I’m after everything
I said yeah yeah yeah yeah

Well you got your reservations
and you got your seven-million dollar home
You got the number of some girl in New York City
who’s always wide awake
so you never spend the night alone
You got a nasty little habit
of peekin’ down the shirts of all the little girls
as they pass you by
And I wonder when it all catches up to you
and they finally take you down–
are you gonna cry?

Well I already got my disease
So take your fuckin’ filthy hands off of me
Yeah well I hope you weren’t expecting to be crucified–
The best that they can do
is to hang you from the nearest tree
It’s midnight in San Francisco
and I’m waiting here for Jesus on my knees
And August and everything after
I want somebody else to bleed for me
I said yeah yeah yeah

They came down from North Dakota
with confidence in the military mind
And now everyone I know is turning showgirl
and dancing with their shirt off
in some Las Vegas hotel line

So I’m going’ to New York City
'Cause it got a little sleazy here for me
When I find myself alone, you know I'm never goin' home
To make the changes, the changes that we need
But I no longer know how to pray
I live in dog town and it’s a Dalmatian parade
And I, I change my spots over and over
but they never seem to fade away
I am the last remaining Indian
looking for the place where the buffalo roam
In August and everything after
man them buffalo ain’t never comin’ home
And I said in August and everything after
man them buffalo ain’t never comin’ home
I said oh yeah yeah yeah

Thursday, April 21, 2005

Headaches, Holidays, Hot Pants, and A Very Short Engagement

A lot has happened since my last blog.

Kristin had a birthday, and Jason discovered he's two hours short of graduating. What kind of academic fascism is that? Give the kid a degree already!

We had a meeting with the Greeks today. Lots of things were said, and for our part, we sounded professional, prepared and much smarter. I like that.

Leslie called me this morning to say she and Osh are engaged again! Yay! I said my congratulations, and shortly after I hung up, I realized that exactly two years ago, on the same day, is when she first called me to tell me when they got engaged then. Freaky.

She said they were going to get married soon - probably at the end of May. That doesn't give me much time to get the perfect wedding gift. Wow. I just typed "figt" three times and had to backspace. Something is terribly wrong here.

Hey, it's 4:20! I mean, yeah, technically it's past midnight, but I haven't gone to bed yet, so it's all the same to me.

I had on this suit thing today for the Greek meeting, and I had planned on wearing it to the editor interview that we didn't have. After copy editing .:flash, I went home to change into my cherry tank top and shorts I got from the Tina yesterday.

Well, naturally, I came back to the office to find Erica commenting not only on my rack this time, but also commenting on my legs. Ahh, Erica. Alas, I already have a girlfriend (see, Meggers - you made the blog twice!).

Shortly after my return, I find out they need to take my picture for the paper to run a story on the editor (I will be the summer editor, and Matt will be the fall editor). Yes, we are the same people who ate air freshener blogs ago. So I take this picture in my tank top and little shorts.

Later on, Nick no-last-name was designing the page, and he pulled in the photo and said something to the effect of, "I'm glad Wendy decided to wear hot pants for the picture."

And we all had a good laugh. And we were merry.

Well, I took a painkiller in honor of headaches and holidays, and it's starting to kick in, so I'm gonna lay down and watch Buffy before I fall down and have to be escorted to bed.

But first, again in honor of holidays, the song of the day. Just pretend like you're watching The Wizard of Oz while you're reading it.

"Brain Damage"

The lunatic is on the grass.
The lunatic is on the grass.
Remembering games and daisy chains and laughs.
Got to keep the loonies on the path.

The lunatic is in the hall.
The lunatics are in my hall.
The paper holds their folded faces to the floor
And every day the paper boy brings more.

And if the dam breaks open many years too soon
And if there is no room upon the hill
And if your head explodes with dark forebodings too
I'll see you on the dark side of the moon.

The lunatic is in my head.
The lunatic is in my head
You raise the blade, you make the change
You re-arrange me 'til I'm sane.
You lock the door
And throw away the key
There's someone in my head but it's not me.

And if the cloud bursts, thunder in your ear
You shout and no one seems to hear.
And if the band you're in starts playing different tunes
I'll see you on the dark side of the moon.

Monday, April 18, 2005

A Darker Shade of Pale

Wow. It's been a while since I last blogged. Last night, I officially turned in my application for editor for Summer 2005. Good for me.

I was going to lay out today, but it's overcast, and the slight breeze makes me cold.

My aunt was on HGTV's Designer's Challenge Thursday. It was pretty amazing.

Last Friday, I went to the Slick Pig with Clarke. I was bitching about all the stupid people in my Emory classes from the days of yore, when I attempted to open the door to the Slick Pig, but it wouldn't budge. Apparently, that handle means push. Go figure. It was pretty hilarious.

Saturday, Meggers (my girlfriend) and I laid out all afternoon. It was awesome. I've started this girlfriend campaign, and I'm going to see how long I can push it until it starts to annoy Adam. This will be fun!

I thought of a really great title for my blog last night, but I've since forgotten.

I played the Oregon Trail, and Erica, Brandon, and I made it to Oregon in good health! Sigh.

My new bikini top gives me some great cleavage. I mean, I see this and I say, "These aren't my boobs!" Wow.

In other news, I'm officially the president of Phi Chi as of last Monday at 9:25 p.m. As a dedicated sister, I stayed up until 6:25 last night working on the meeting agenda (I violently dislike disorganization) and chair descriptions for next week's elections. We're electing VP tonight. Sweetness.

Monday, April 11, 2005

Salty and Half Naked

I got recognized in the bank today. It was the only rock star moment I'll ever have.

I was in line to make a withdrawal when the guy next to me looked over and said, "You're Half Naked!"

"Yes, I am."

"I love your column!"

Aww. Then I got a facebook message titled "Dude, you are awesome." Yay! I have fans!

I satisfied my salty craving by getting some sunflower kernels. Mmm.

In other news, Jose Cuervo (alias) has a friend who robbed a bank. WTF? My friends don't do things like that. I guess that's a good thing.

Whoa now! He got the idea from a movie. Wow. And he almost got away with it. Then he tried to get people to bust him out.

"Yeah, dude! Be there in ten!"

Brandon's doing some quality Homestar watching. Good for him. Working in the office isn't nearly as fun as bumming around online.

I stayed up until 4 a.m. playing Soul Calibur II with Clarke. Fun times.

Damn these sunflower kernels are good.

Wednesday, April 06, 2005

Excuse Me While I Remove the Stick from Your Ass and Beat You with It

We've been facebook'd.

It's true. After embarking on a valiant quest to create as many groups as possible and take over thefacebook, some ^punk SGA members kids have created a group aptly named Sidelines... Painful To Read. Oh, where to begin?

It has been my experience at the nationally recognized award-winning newspaper that people don't like us because they don't fully understand the job of a newspaper. suck. Allow me to elaborate.

The vast majority of our naysayers are under the unfortunate blatantly wrong misconception that we actually control the news. This is asinine at best and a sign of brain damage at worst.

I'm so tired of hearing people say shit like, "Why did you run that story about the burning cross?"

Here's a better question: "Why did you light a cross on fire in the first place, you self-absorbed prick? Not everything is about you. Sometimes it's about a big-ass cross some jackass set on fire in front of a fraternity house. And, no, we don't care how you feel. Not even a little."

I mean, if we ignited something, I'd expect it to be in the paper. In fact, I'd be a little miffed if it weren't. The same goes for something being ignited on my property.

You don't need us to make you look bad. Most of you are good enough at that on your own. Shit, a burning cross. We'd never do that.

The other gist the kids are trying to get accross is the ever-popularover-used and generally dumbass Republican concept Conservative viewpoint that there is a "liberal media bias."

OK, first off, let's just suspend reality for a minute and say that, yes, the media is actually an entity - some big fat guy - and this guy has a political agenda.

Is it really that surprising that the guy would lean a little to the left? In order to be in this business at all, one has to recognize the importance of the First Amendment, and showing any support of that ensures that you'll be forever known as a liberal, regardless of your other political views left-wing nut.

On the contrary, if every liberal person had a big stick up the ass and a chip on the shoulder, as is evident these kids do, maybe they would lean a little more to the right. It's probably the only way they can walk without that stick getting in the way.

Tuesday, April 05, 2005

He Might Be British

I need to do my taxes. Yikes!

I had to work this morning, and though I don't remember falling asleep, I do have a vivid recollection of waking up.

After work, Thomas, Kristen, and I went to Chili's for food and drinks for Thomas and Me (those of legal age). Wow. I just realized I capitalized the word "me." How incredibly vain. I'd delete it, but it's amusing.

Stephanie met us on her lunch, and although she's of legal age, she did not drink. What a good example she sets. Drinking on your lunch break is usually frowned upon.

The funny moment of the day I wish I was there for:
Thomas was working drive-thru and apparently introduced himself as toe-MOSS. When the driver pulled up to the window, he thought he'd offended the man because he mistook him for a Hispanic guy. Well, as Thomas said, the guy was actually a Japanese or Vietnamese, with a scraggly beard. Yes. I'm still amused.

Check it out! Matthew (a momentary lapse of reason) and Manda (FuckBook) both mentioned me in their blogs. Woot!

Oh, and JR blogged. Scan for Britishisms, and you'll find the word "bloody." Bitchin! Also an obscure They Might Be Giants reference. Or just a cliche used in a TMBG song. Either way, it made me think of "Birdhouse in Your Soul."

However, Erica wanted me to blog about her, so I decided to Google "Erica lyrics" to see what came up. what I found were lyrics to quite possibly the worst song I've ever read. It's called, aptly, "Erica" by Greg Crowther.

Well, I know the sequence of the steps in glycolysis,
And I know how to catalyze an amide hydrolysis,
And I know the first forty digits of the value of pi.
I convert to Celsius without a thermometer,
And I know know to calibrate a light spectrometer;
I haven't figured you out yet, but I'd really like to try.

Erica, Erica, I've been across America,
Studying all the way through.
But there's more to me than just esoterica --
There's lots of love for you.

Now I know every bone from the toes to the cranium,
And I know twenty-seven uses for uranium,
And I know what the ideal gas equation is for.
I can do PCR with help from Thermophilus,
And I know the reproductive cycle of Drosophila,
And I know you're in there, and I wish you would open the door.


Yes, I know the function of Wernicke's area,
And I know the tertiary symptoms of malaria,
And I know who coined the term "cell" -- it was Robert Hooke.
I know Newton's first and second Laws of Motion,
And I know the osmolarity of every major ocean,
But I don't know how to please you, so I guess I'll go back to my books.


And there's more! Check out these other science lyrics. They're sure to please ... uhh ... maybe the moms of the guys who wrote them.

I just learned the Associated Press style for blond/blonde. Good for me. I've earned my paltry wage these six minutes.

And now, not to be outdone, my math song about Erica. Yes, it's god-awful on purpose.

Erica, I long to integrate
Erica, it's you I'd like to date
Erica, I wish you'd be my mate
Erica, you and I equate

You're the focus points of each ellipse
Erica, I'll give subtraction tips
Erica, I really like your hips
Erica, my heart's doing backflips

I have to ask you, baby, what's your sine?
Did I mention that you're lookin' fine?
I bet you're tired of this same old line
How about tomorrow night we dine?


3.14159 is pi
You're the circle of my radii
If given x and z, can you find y?
Oh Erica, I long to be your guy


Yes, if I were a shitty songwriter, I'd be a man. I'm just sayin'.

Ain't Nobody Dope As Me

I'm just so fresh and clean (so fresh and so clean, clean).

I just took a shower. Good times. Those who see me tomorrow will thank me.

Prior to showering, I spent too much time watching various hilarities with Clarke on

Sidebar: Apparently, I didn't make the online version of Clarke's life story. Sigh. I think it's because I can beat him at Soul Caliber II. Speaking of XBOX, I get to play this week. I'm so excited.

I really ought to be in bed right now, because I have to be at work at 4:45. However, I can't leave without offering a song of the day. It was a tough decision between "Jessie's Girl" (Rick Springfield), "Road Movie to Berlin" (They Might Be Giants), and "Rock and Roll All Night" (Kiss). Alas, Kiss reigns supreme.

You show us everything you've got
You keep on dancin' and the room gets hot
You drive us wild, we'll drive you crazy
You say you wanna go for a spin
The party's just begun, we'll let you in
You drive us wild, we'll drive you crazy
You keep on shoutin', you keep on shoutin'

I wanna rock and roll all nite and party every day
I wanna rock and roll all nite and party every day
I wanna rock and roll all nite and party every day
I wanna rock and roll all nite and party every day

You keep on saying you'll be mine for a while
You're lookin' fancy and I like your style
You drive us wild, we'll drive you crazy
You show us everything you've got
Baby, baby that's quite a lot
And you drive us wild, we'll drive you crazy
You keep on shoutin', you keep on shoutin'

I wanna rock and roll all nite and party every day
I wanna rock and roll all nite and party every day
I wanna rock and roll all nite and party every day
I wanna rock and roll all nite and party every day
I wanna rock and roll all nite and party every day
I wanna rock and roll all nite and party every day
I wanna rock and roll all nite and party every day
I wanna rock and roll all nite and party every day
I wanna rock and roll

And now I'm off to read some Catch-22 before bed. Then I'm going to rock and roll all night. Or at least party every day.

Monday, April 04, 2005

Like Everything Else in Life, This Blog Is about ME

Wow! The entire Opinions page got picked up by UWIRE today, including yours truly. I also received a fan letter and a Web site comment. Check me out here on the Sidelines Web site: Pageants about beauty, not disability.

In other news, I've received this damn e-mail several times, so I'm just going to reply to it on my blog. This one's for the sorority, and anyone else who cares. I encourage everyone to do this, because I did.

Nine things you're looking forward to ...
1. The new Harry Potter book
2. Graduating, whenever that will be
3. Getting back to dancing
4. Tattooing something on my lower back (I'm open to suggestions)
5. Moving into my house with Tina
6. Getting married
7. Getting my taxes done (and hopefully getting a refund)
8. Getting Mannix back so I'll have access to my CDs again
9. The next time I go to New York

Eight things you always wear ...
1. A bellybutton ring (usually my zipper one)
2. My tattoo
3. A hematite ring
4. Some kind of top (preferably my cherry tank top)
5. A thong
6. At least two earrings in each ear
7. Some kind of bottom (preferably tight jeans or capris)
8. My tiger's eye Buddha necklace

Seven things that annoy you ...
1. Bad drivers
2. Writers who misspell important things in their stories
3. Bad grammar
4. The washing machine being occupied when I really need to do laundry
5. This headache of death I've been experiencing for three weeks now
6. Not getting enough sleep (which leads to more than seven things annoying me)
7. Stupid people

Six things you say everyday ...
1. Fuck
2. Fascist
3. True
4. Me, I, or some other self reference
5. Bitch
6. Blog
**BONUS: I just made a sentence using all three words. Thanks to Joey for letting me say it to him: "Fuck you, fascist! It's true, I am the bitch of the blog!"
Five things you do everyday ...
1. Wake up and get out of bed
2. Brush teeth, shower, and other personal hygiene tasks
3. Bitch about something
4. Drive
5. Work at Starbucks, Sidelines, or both!

Four people you want to spend more time with ...
1. Adam
2. Myself
3. Johnny Depp
4. My superfly peeps (yes, this means you)

Three movies you watch over & over again ...
What's with the ampersand? I mean, really, just type it out. Add that to my list of annoyances.
1. Garden State
2. The Shawshank Redemption
3. Office Space
**TV on DVD I watch over AND over again: Buffy the Vampire Slayer**

Two of your favorite songs at the moment ...
Let it be know, I'm over this elipsis. Oh, I use the phrase "I'm so over [blank]" every day, too.
1. "Your Latest Trick" - my favorite song of all time
2. "Live Forever" - the Counting Crows cover version

One thing you want to do before you die ...
1. Finish this survey. Sweet! I did it! Now I can die happily. Actually, I'd like to dance in the rain.

Instead of a song of the, today I'll have a quote from my favorite book, Catch-22:
"If I had gotten syphilis or a dose of clap for five minutes of passion on the beach instead of this damned mosquito bite, I could see some justice. But malaria? Malaria? Who can explain malaria as a consequence of fornication?"

Sunday, April 03, 2005

Metaphorical Herpes: A Lost Opportunity

I'm really upset with myself, and I blame it on using up all my wit on our quite successful April Fools issue.

You see, Friday was April Fools Day, and I had a gynecologist appointment. That doesn't sound like fun, and it isn't, but I could've made it fun. Too bad I didn't realize it at the moment.

I get there, and after weighing me and checking my blood pressure, they proceed to ask the typical list of questions. The weird thing: They ask if you've ever had a sexually transmitted disease before they even ask if you're sexually active.

Here's how my April Foolin' should've gone:
Nurse: "Do you have any sexually transmitted diseases?"
Me: "Oh yeah. Heavy on the STDs."
Nurse: "Are you sexually active?"
Me: "Funny you should ask that. I'm actually not sexually active in any way. It's an immaculate infection. No, really, I have metaphorical herpes. It's a bitch."

Then, after my exam when I'm fully dressed, the doc comes in to find me wearing a T-shirt reading "April Fools!"

Doctor: "Well, I was going to tell you I have some good news, but I guess you already know that."

One more lost opportunity. I'll have to do that next year.

Yesterday, while on my way to work, I stopped by the Hendersonville Starbucks to get supplies and ran into none other than Fred Thompson. Please don't be the umpteenth person to ask me who he is. I mean, really, you should know.

After work, I went to hear this band composed of many people from my high school. They're a rock 'n' roll cover band, and they were very good. Sidebar: The bar didn't have Malibu. They're all "We have Parrot Bay." Yeah, Parrot Bay is no Malibu, but I digress.

I actually got to spend some quality time with Adam last night. He stayed at my place last night, which is the first time that has happened in a while.

My dad, Mike, and my mom came this morning to help me move my furniture out of my apartment. Last night, before bed, Adam was all "Make sure there aren't any condom wrappers on the floor," to which I responded, "Yeah, I'm not stupid."

[Insert buzzer sound here] Wrong! I am stupid.

While I did remember to dispose of the condom wrappers, I left an empty box under my bed, so I'm fairly certain he saw it when he and Mike were disassembling the damn thing.

An empty box! I mean, I can't even pretend that someone gave them to me and I haven't used them. Mortified (yeah, and you thought that word was only used to teenage girls who write in to YM about a terrible date experience), I called my mom around 1 p.m. to ask if he'd said anything.

He hadn't, which I figured. I don't much expect my dad to ask me about my sex life.

After realizing what I'd done, I did what I usually do to blow off some steam: got out my tap shoes and danced until I almost passed out. And since I haven't been able to dance since September, my passing out point came much sooner than it used to. My tap dancing was also a little rusty. I mean, I didn't expect to be able to break into Riverdance, but I'll be glad when I get back into dance classes.

I then drove to the Sidlines office, passing some kind of motorcycle brigade in one of the parking lots.

All these men were driving around on motorcycles, except for this one dude who was on one that would've been a wee bit small for my 9-year-old cousin. Wow, I just realized my cousin is 9. I'm old.

Today's song is another Radiohead favorite. Kudos to Michael on the show last night. This song especially rocked. Naturally, it's "Creep."

When you were here before
Couldn't look you in the eye
You're just like an angel
Your skin makes me cry
You float like a feather
In a beautiful world
I wish I was special
You're so fucking special

But I'm a creep
I'm a weirdo
What the hell am I doing here?
I don't belong here

I don't care if it hurts
I want to have control
I want a perfect body
I want a perfect soul
I want you to notice when I'm not around
You're so fucking special
I wish I was special

But I'm a creep
I'm a weirdo
What the hell I'm doing here?
I don't belong here

She's running out again
She's running out
She runs runs runs

Whatever makes you happy
Whatever you want
You're so fucking special
I wish I was special

But I'm a creep
I'm a weirdo
What the hell am I doing here?
I don't belong here
I don't belong here

Saturday, April 02, 2005

"If I Could Be Who You Wanted..."

The Pope died today. I'm not really sure how long it takes to appoint a new Pope, but for now, the Catholic Church is Popeless. Although I'm not Catholic, I do care. Good for me.

Terri Schiavo has been cremated. We've been heavy on the death as of late. It's a bit depressing.

Erica and I are going to see De Novo Dahl tonight. How exciting. I've never actually seen them, but I know several band members, so I've opted to drag my ass out there tonight as promised, if I didn't have to work (I got off around 5:15).

I came home today to find my apartment completely unlocked, which makes me so mad I could start throwing things. I have lots of stuff, some of which has value, and I don't much appreciate the door being left unlocked because I know I locked it before I left for work yesterday afternoon.

I have a scratch on my bumper. I think someone hit me. I really don't know, though, because I haven't had this car that long and I don't know what my sister hit or what hit her when she had it, but it looks like I have a fresh scratch. My bet is it happened in a parking lot. That happened with my last car. Oh well. I'm not filing a claim over a bumper scratch.

Random Post-It on my desk:
i like to eat . . .
i like to eat . . .
i like to eat apples
and bannannas!

Yes, that's how everything was spelled.

And now, the song of the day: "Fake Plastic Trees" by Radiohead...definitely a favorite.

Her Green plastic watering can
For her fake chinese rubber plant
In fake plastic earth.
That she bought from a rubber man
In a town full of rubber plans.
Just to get rid of itself.
And it wears her out, it wears her out
It wears her out, it wears her out.

She lives with a broken man
A cracked polystyrene man
Who just crumbles and burns.
He used to do surgery
For girls in the eighties
But gravity always wins.
And it Wears him out, it wears him out
It wears him out, it wears him out.

She looks like the real thing
She tastes like the real thing
My fake plastic love.
But I can't help the feeling
I could blow through the ceiling
If I just turn and run
And It Wears Me Out, it wears me out
It wears me out, it wears me out.

And if I could be who you wanted
If I could be who you wanted,
All the time, all the time, ohhh... ohh...

Friday, April 01, 2005

Flame-Retardant Classes OR Tore up from the Floor Up

Well, it'd be the biggest understatement of my short yet brilliant blogging career if I said I had a bad night.

However, due to some pesky bylaws, I really can't go into too much detail about it on here, but feel free to e-mail me. I'll be more than happy to give you the rundown using colorful language and, well, that's it - just colorful language.

Suffice it to say that it was a rough night consisting of about 30 minutes of sleep, after which I embarked on a journey into the wonderful world of coffee that is Starbucks. After working approximately two hours past my posted leaving time, I went to Brandy Is Awesome's (yeah, I call her that - check out my phone if you don't believe me) for some much-needed R&R. I woke up sometime after dark. Thanks to all those I work with for not calling me - it's much obliged.

On my way back from work, I was talking to Erica about my crazy night after I filled her in on our meeting storming and grandstanding in the Mass Comm. Building yesterday. I was contemplating whether or not to blog about my night, and she suggested I write it down on paper. I thoroughly enjoyed this idea, especially when I mentioned lighting it on fire and throwing it at someone.

Just as dreams of arson and manslaughter were dancing in my head, I passed a Smyrna Fire Dept. truck with the phrase "Learn Not to Burn" on the tailgate. I'm totally serious about that - I can't make this shit up. I told Erica of this seemingly divine intervention, and she responded by saying she'd start taking flame-retardant classes. Good for her. And remember, always stop, drop, and roll if you ever do find yourself on fire.

I actually mentioned this stop, drop, and roll thing to Stephanie today. She's our ASM, and the perfect segue into my most amusing moment of the day. We were discussing something, during which she used the phrase "Tore up from the floor up," which completely made my day being as though I thought it was the funniest thing I'd heard in a while, and that's saying something, considering our April Fools issue came out today.

JR blogged today, and it's quite good, as usual. He mentioned some songs, which seems like a good way to end this, and I was actually thinking of starting to post song lyrics of the day. Sweet. Now I can do it and appear like a mindless sheep all at once! Bitchin!

Today's song lyrics come from the latest CD I bought (by the Postal Service), which is sadly still in Mannix, my dead car from a few blogs ago. A brief moment of silence for Mannix, and now this.

The song is "Nothing Better," and it's pretty much the best breakup song ever (the first verse sung by a man, the second by a woman), and while I don't currently need a breakup song, the imagery is definitely worth mentioning:

Could someone please call a surgeon
Who could crack my ribs and repair this broken heart
That you're deserting for better company?
I can't accept that it's over
I will block the door like a goalie tending the net
In the third quarter of a tied-game rivalry

So just say how to make it right
And I swear I'll do my best to comply

Tell me am i right to think that there could be nothing better
Than making you my bride and slowly growing old together

I feel must interject here you're getting carried away feeling sorry for yourself
With these revisions and gaps in history
So let me help you remember.
I've made charts and graphs that should finally make it clear.
I've prepared a lecture on why I have to leave

So please back away and let me go
I can't my darling I love you so

Tell me am i right to think that there could be nothing better
Than making you my bride and slowly growing old together
Don't you feed me lines about some idealistic future
Your heart won't heal right if you keep tearing out the sutures

I admit that I have made mistakes and I swear
I'll never wrong you again
You've got a lure I can't deny,
But you've had your chance so say goodbye
Say goodbye

I think I'll end with that.