"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

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

CHORUS:
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.

CHORUS

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.

CHORUS

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

CHORUS:
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?

CHORUS

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

CHORUS

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 Heavy.com.

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.

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?"

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

"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...

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.

I'm All out of Funny

It's April Fools production night, and that can only mean one thing: I'm all out of funny.

Not only that, but I'm also running low on witty.

I'm like a keg at a frat party.

After pumping the last bit of humor out of myself, I'm ready to blog about my night.

Tomorrow's issue will be grand, and it's nice that I don't have to bother putting it on the Web site. All I have to post is .:flash, which will take about 15 minutes at the most.

I've made arrangements with my landlord to stay in my apartment until Sunday, allowing my dad, Mike, and I plenty of time to move out and clean up. Nice!

I've been in the office all damned day. Good for me. I've eaten pizza and at least five pieces of cookie cake. Good for the body, good for the soul.

Oh, and Erica didn't check out my rack today, but I'm about to force her to see my zipper bellybutton ring. She's already seen it, and is unimpressed.

Erica Checked Out My Rack

She totally did. After a brief phone conversation with her, I came into the office in my favorite shirt (my cherry tank top). The cherries are located kind of upward of my breasts, which apparently is clothing talk for "Check out my rack."

Well, I immediately called her out on it, to which she replied that the cherries were just calling to her to look, to which I replied they were calling to everyone, not just her.

And that's the story of the day Erica checked out my rack. At least, the day that I know of. I have a few good breast shirts, so I'm sure there are more occasions I'm unaware of.

It's a bit more lackluster than the title suggests, but it's amusing nonetheless.

And now I'm off to Dairy Queen for me and Colby, because I'm a putz.

Actually, it's because it's Colby's birthday, and I'm the best copy editor ever!

Wow. It's been a while since anyone's stroked my ego. I almost forgot what it felt like.

Adendum: When I told Erica of the title, she replied with an overly-enthusiastic "I love it!"

"My rack, or the title?" I inquired.

She suggested I change to title to something involving how my rack jumped out at her, but I'm not really into that.

For Closure, Just Click SEND

Tonight after staff meeting, I went to Camino Real with Nick, Nona, Matt, and Emily for some good eats.

We had a lovely dinner discussion about breakups, including what is and is not OK when breaking up with someone.

With the exception of Nick no-last-name, we agreed that breaking up via Post-It note ala Sex and the City is not the way to go about breakin up. However, Nick asserts that e-mail breakups are totally OK.

Emily, Nona, and I were quick to chime in that women need closure and cannot get it from an e-mail breakup, thus e-mail breakups are bad.

Nick, however, didn't care. I imagine he's probably broken a few hearts via e-mail before, but I didn't ask.

I'm No Elle Woods, But This Is Definitely a Bruiser

It's my two-week bruisiversary. Yes, it's been two weeks since the StoneCrest Emergency Room people stuck a very large needle halfway up my arm. Ouch. Yes, it hurt as bad as it sounds, if not worse.

So we're all updating our blogs here in the Sidelines office. It's much more appealing than actual work.

Check out Joey here!

And word is Colby blogged about me a few days ago. His birthday is tomorrow. Send him many e-mails.

In other news, I updated my photo on myspace and the facebook to one of me at a sorority party, and now I've gotten two myspace messages from guys who would "love to chat."

Yeah. Do I look that dumb? OK, maybe I do, but rest assured that I am not. How about this. You write me a paragraph free of grammatical errors, and I'll decide whether or not you're worthy to chat. Sound fair? Did I mention I'm a horrible bitch?

OK, enough of that tirade. I half missed Arrested Development last night because I was reading pages. Sigh.

Well, that's all for now. I have nothing else to say. Oh, yes I do. Joey is still awesome!

Facebook This!

So I discovered the facebook yesterday. Wow. Now I'm connected to all these people I knew in high school. It's quite strange.

It all started when the Sidelines kids peer pressured me into joining. Now I can't stop! So if I don't blog for a while, at least check me out on the facebook and see how many friends I have.

I am still awesome.

I Don't Have Meningitis!

So I haven't blogged in a while, mainly because last Monday I had a lovely trip to the doctor that went a little something like this:
DR: "Is this the worst headache of your life?"
ME: "Yes."
DR: "Do you have any neck pain?"
ME: "Yes."
DR: "Have you had any blurred or double vision?"
ME: "Yes."
DR: "Do you have a friend who can take you to the emergency room?"

So I went. They did a cat scan, took five vials of blood and damn near gave me a heart attack until they told me they don't think I have meningitis and they weren't going to do a spinal tap.

The verdict is that I have a virus that makes it feel like my brain is banging against my skull. Translation: They have no clue, but I'm not dying.

Now I'm starting to see stars, though, so I'm going back tomorrow. Oh fun.

How the Intimidator, the Gregmeister, Firecracker and Travis roll

So I guess Travis needs to come up with a nickname for himself. I'm obviously Firecracker, Greg is the Gregmeister (who lives like across the street from me) and Sarah is the Intimidator. After a CRAZY Saturday night at work, we all went to Greg's for some good fun drinking games.

Yes, I went through a whole bottle of amaretto, save the one shot I let someone buy off me for $2. I know you think I got ripped off, but the bottle was a gift, so I really turned a profit.

After drinking until 6 am, spending part of the evening in a cowboy hat and the other part in Sarah's "bitchin' sunglasses," I woke up at 9:20 because I had to work at 10. That was really as bad as it sounds. It's quite possible I was still drunk, or at least had alcohol in my system, when I woke up. In point of fact, judging by my driving, I was. Either that or really tired. But no one thinks you'd be drunk at 9:30 Sunday morning, so I guess the cops just thought I was a terrible driver. And they may be right.

Travis had to work at 11, and Greg came in at 4. Travis said we should all do that again soon, but Greg replied with a very funny "I don't think we should EVER do that again." So maybe next time we won't contemplate staying up until 6 a.m. so we can buy alochol again.

But that's the way we roll in Smyrna.

"You better take care of me Lord. If you don't, you're gonna have me on your hands."

It's a sad day for journalists everywhere. Our dear Hunter S. Thompson died of a self-inflicted gunshot wound. Ouch.

I think I'm gettin' the fear, man...

Yeah, for those not so well versed in gonzo journalism, perhaps you're familiar with Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas or the upcoming film The Rum Diaries.

Or maybe you live in a small hole in the ground and have no idea what I'm blogging about.

And rather than be overly sentimental and brooding, I'll end with this fitting quote:

"And that, I think, was the handle – that sense of inevitable victory over the forces of Old and Evil. Not in any mean or military sense; we didn't need that. Our energy would simply prevail. There was no point in fighting – on our side or theirs. We had all the momentum; we were riding the crest of a high and beautiful wave. So now, less than five years later, you can go up on a steep hill in Las Vegas and look West, and with the right kind of eyes you can almost see the high-water mark – the place where the wave finally broke and rolled back."

Damn right.

ERICA and Wendy go to Bad Cracker Barrel

This is the all-ERICA blog! It's all-ERICA, all the time!

So Friday night was our Friends and Family night at Starbucks, and wouldn't you know it, my friend ERICA came! Well, I'd heard through the sorority grapevine that some type of party (which is a tame way of saying drunken crazy bash) was going to occur at my apartment. Not wanting to get caught up in that bruhaha, I suggested to ERICA that we hang out when I got off work.

When I got home from work, I changed clothes and then called ERICA. I went to her apartment, and we sat around a bit and watched a preview of "Naked News" before embarking on a lovely fun-filled adventure to the "bad Cracker Barrel."

At the BCC, we played that peg game. ERICA and I are not geniuses, and that's all I'll say about that.

I bought some Razzles and Tongue Splashers gum from the Old Country Store. Mmm. Well, actually, ERICA and I decided that the Razzles really tasted more like Flintstone vitamins than candy/gum. We ate them on the way to ERICA's apartment.

While driving back, I found out something disturbing about ERICA: She's afraid of driving over railroad tracks. In point of fact, she simply refuses to do it at all. She let go of the wheel while driving over the tracks. I wonder what it's like when she tries to beat the train.

I was prompt to tell ERICA how weird it was that she just let go of the wheel, and I happened to do this while we drove by some crosses by the side of the road. ERICA said I shouldn't be laughing because someone died there. Then we kept eating Razzles.

ERICA and I went to the gas station for some drinks and lottery tickets. I won a free ticket, but they're not redeemable on third shift, according to the supercool cashier whose fake nametag name escapes me.

At ERICA's place, we had some drinks and spent way too long trying to open the Tongue Splashers. Yes, they really are as good as you remember.

I slept at ERICA's because my ghetto-ass apartment still has no heat. The bastards!

The next morning, I woke up at ERICA's, but ERICA was still asleep. She said she was going to yoga at 10 a.m., but I have my doubts as to whether or not she made it.

"My unrivaled awesomeness!"

Colby did something blog-worthy today.

The trouble is I don't remember what it was. I was in the office today, and I remember saying to him, "You might make the blog today." And even though he ragged on me for not blogging more often, I decided to make good on my non-promise.

Michaela wants to make the blog, too. I've chosen her as my assistant. This really doesn't mean anything, as I have no authority to do this and have no need for an assistant. Mostly I just suggest that she do things for me, and she doesn't do them, and that's that. But once I gave her my debit card to get me a sandwich, and that was nice.

I have given her the extremely important responsibility of bringing me back a cheesy souvenir from San Francisco. I'm talking really cheesy, like a box of Rice-A-Roni made to look like a cable car and wrapped in a rainbow-colored gay pride shirt. Let's hope she remembers. If she does, I bet she'll make the blog again.

OK, enough with the enticing Michaela to bring me stuff.

Manda and I have been engaging in a back-and-forth bickering dialogue via the Sidelines dry erase story board. It started in the Opinions section and it's starting to leak into State & Local and Sports. Each comment has an arrow pointing to the next one. It's really quite amusing.

It all started with the listings of which columnists run each day, so under my name it says "who is still awesome."

Here is how the rest reads thus far:
"Bah, we'll see about that."
"Insanely jealous."
"Jealous of what?"
"My unrivaled awesomeness!"
"Hey! Hey! Be civil now!"
"Your mom's civil!"
"What?"
"I'm not responsible for your mom's shortcomings."

Indeed, I'm not.

Mmm...Tangy!

Matt and I ate air freshener.

I only ate it because Nick said, "It says, 'Tastes like candy. Eat all of it at once.'" Matt, however, ate it because he's an idiot.

We've yet to figure out whether or not it's toxic (I was gonna Google it, but we're not sure what brand it is), but it's been a few minutes and no one's passed out yet.

It tastes just like it smells. And it smells like citrusy goodness. And chewing gum.

So Nick (no last name) tried to get everyone in the office to eat the air freshener. He was unsuccessful, and he didn't even eat any himself. He doesn't know what a treat he's missing.

I sometimes feel good about myself because the SGA and all the people at this university help contribute to our yearly trip of getting wasted and galivanting around a big city.

I'm glad that at home I have some Dove truffles (courtesy of Adam) at home to take the taste out of my mouth. At least my mouth is citrusy fresh.

While discussing the Hubbert Peak (not long after air freshener appetizers), Kristin suggested that we're really not running out of oil, and we'll be able to survive if we take over all the countries that have it because they're "greedy little bastards."

The Vagina Monoblogues

So it's been a while since I've blogged, but I've had good reason. Erica introduced me to this great game, and I've been sucked into DynoMite ever since.

We've had an interesting day in the office. It's been a sad day for journalism, as several stories have had blatant errors or have just sucked.

OK, you bastards, stop playing DynoMite and keep reading. The game will still be there. Damn me and my links.

There are several new countries I'm unaware of, but according to a story, they're real: Africa, the Middle East, and Asia. Yeah. Not countries.

Did you know that the vagina is a metaphor?

I immediately contested this.

"My vagina's not a metaphor! It's real!" I screamed in protest.

Speaking of vaginas, Valentine's Day is coming up. Yeah, that's completely unrelated.

I'm deeply disturbed that it's Wednesday night and I still have no Valentine's Day plan, other than my 6 p.m. date with my Risk Management class. And I know that Adam usually doesn't work on Mondays, so I'm hoping I'll get to do something with him, being as though my Valentine's Days usually suck.

So, if I have no Valentine's Day plans by Thursday night, I'm going to have my own Valentine's Day celebration and go out after class with Erica and have some drinks or watch TV or something.

Oh, and I'm now Jay's Watch. And Joey is still awesome.

And, for those who just can't help but wonder, my metaphorical vagina is OK. Not LIKE OK, because that would be a simile. It IS OK.

I Am the Walrus

Mannix is dead.

Actually, Mannix is so close to dying I'm about to cut the life support.

Mannix is my car. Was my car. Now he's stuck at the Saturn in Franklin because he started making a terrible metal-on-metal sound that will cost me $1400 to fix.

So, alas, I must prepare to bid fare-well to my long-time friend.

I spent the day at Adam's watching the kids while his mom was gone, and the rest of the day was spent anxiously awaiting Clarke to come rescue me from the crazy house. I wasn't about to be stuck there with his mom all afternoon.

My sister has been planning on getting a car in February and then giving me hers. But Mannix just couldn't make it another month. It figures.

A special shout-out to Chrissy, who volunteered to meet me at my apartment at 4:30 a.m. on Thursday to get me to work in Franklin (training) by 5:30. You're a pal, Chrissy: I'll sell an extra pizza kit for you:)

And Now, a Word from Our Sponsor

Starbucks Chantico drink with two dipping cookies: $3.50

Half order of fried pickles: $3.00

One Malibu and Coke: $5.00

Walking out of your job on your boss's shift: Priceless

There are some things money can't buy. For everything else, there's, well, money.

So I quit Friday. Actually, I gave my two-week notice on Thursday night, but then she demoted me, so I quit. Oh well. Sucks to be her. I could care less.

After my 3 hours and 15 minutes of work, I met Jen up at Starbucks for some delicious beverages. Then we went to the Black Eyed Pea for some drinks and appetizers, where we met up with some friends of hers.

We went to her house where we kicked some MAJOR ass at Battle of the Sexes. So really, what we've learned here is that Jen and I are manly women. Good for us.

I'd blog more, but I am at work and should at least try to look productive. Coming up soon: A comment from one of the non-winners of Battle of the Sexes (hahaha - now you have to comment because I put it on here). And, a more in-depth blog will follow soon, and the much-awaited All-Erica Blogging Extravaganza!

By the way, be sure to check out my column on Sidelines by clicking the Opinions tab. It's the one about speeding fines.

Attention Brainiacs: It's Time to Breed More

Good news - we've just distinguished between bastard and illegitimate children.

So there was an Inauguration today, and I missed it. Oh well. I saw the first one, so I can just picture it in my head with a slightly-older Bush.

Holly (the Starbucks manager) called me last night, and they're hiring me as a shift supervisor! Rock! I have a training class Monday. Woohoo!

On another note, I'm in the Sidelines office, and we've been discussing procreation.

Why is it that the people who shouldn't procreate just keep on having babies? We've decided to urge smart people to breed more - the human race depends on it.

So, in conclusion, I have a job, I missed the Inauguration, and all smart people need to make babies. That is all.

Matt-Who? No, that's lame.

Today I discovered that I cannot walk and drink hot chocolate at the same time. How embarassing.

I had my second interview with the Starbucks DM today. I think it went well. Ironically, Starbucks requires multitasking. Hopefully I won't have to walk and make drinks at the same time. Yikes!

Afterward, I had to get a new social security card. I waited in line for an hour. Think the DMV, only much, much slower.

And, to Matthew, sorry for the calling you Matt for, like, ever. Colby's sorry, too. Nobody else cares. Especially Michaela. She's paralyzed with not caring very much.

Just kidding! We all love you, even if you don't read this, you self-absorbed something. Yeah. Vocabulary is like me walking and drinking hot chocolate. You better read this! And comment!

Oh, JR! Look at the time I posted.

3 Chicks, 3 Davids, and a Non-David

I haven't blogged in a while. I feel bad. I really haven't done much of anything other than work. So here's what happened.

Last weekend Leslie was in town, and she and Jen and I went to Bailey's, where we ran into 3 high school Davids, and some guy whose name we couldn't remember. These guys were far too cool for us in high school, but now my hair's longer and my boobs are bigger, so they can talk to me. We ended up going to one David's house to have some drinks and shoot some pool. It was a good night, especially because they admitted they were assholes in high school.

The other day, Vicki and I went bowling and hung out. I then went to K-Mart, where I ran into the Non-David. Yeah, I still can't remember his name.

I had an interview with Holly, the woman who's going to manage the new Smyrna Starbucks. Keep your fingers crossed that this will rescue me from the hell that is my current job. Face Mecca and pray.

I promise to blog more now that I'll be on campus as of Tuesday. What's on my agenda? Meeting with Jack and begging him to let me into his Philosophy and Film class. Here's hoping!

"I'm OK with being unimpressive. I sleep better."

Dylan (Adam's son) called me "Mommy" yesterday. It was so cute I wanted to cry. OK, I did cry, but there were other reasons, too.

Speaking of Adam, he still hasn't called me. At first I was really worried, but I know he was at work, so nothing happened to him, he just didn't call me for whatever had better be a very good reason. I mean, I'm not all "call me," but if you SAY you're going to call you, you'd better do it. OK, that's all the boyfriend blogging for the day, I'm just frustrated.

The movie you must see right now: Garden State. I mean, seriously, get it RIGHT NOW! It's amazing. I saw it in Brooklyn for $10 and have spent $9 renting it (and, yes, I'd get it free if I waited 90 days). The title of this blog is actually a quote from that movie. Many thanks to Zach Braff for writing it - I take no credit other than being able to type accurately.

Speaking of movies, even more proof that Blockbuster is a waste of my potential:

So the corporate business GENIUSES that run this little operation seem to think it's a good idea to advertise "No More Late Fees!" Yeah, I think it's dumb, too. And yes, there is a catch: After 7 days, they charge you for the movie. Now, my store is a franchise, and we're not participating. You got that? So quit calling my damn store and asking me about the late fee bullshit, you ignorant bastards! Read the fine print: "At participating stores only." Now, I understand some people can't read fine print, but it was ON THE FREAKING NEWS that no store in Nashville or in a one-and-a-half-hour radius is participating, so chill out. Pay your $0.90 a day like everyone else. It's OK - worse things have happened.

My lip just started twitching uncontrollably. Well, aren't all twitches uncontrollable? I'd think so. How'd that phrase come about? I bet JR with his English language book would know. JR, please feel free to answer this question.

Speaking of JR, I have a new New Year's resolution: Not only am I going to blog MORE, I'm going to blog MORE than JR. So really, he's ahead of me right now. I've got to catch up. I mean, he's way smarter than me, and his life is much more Notting Hill-like, so I've got to win something.

The greatest thing I've heard all day comes from Chris Burke (who, sadly, has no blog): "Other than that, I've been tryin like hell all week to wade through this shit about vaginal dosage forms."

I think I'll end with that.

Aidan sign my bra! Oh shit, someone stole it!

enI realize I haven't blogged in a while, and I have really good reason. I've had a bit of a traumatic time since December decided to happen. So here's the quick rundown.

December 3 I worked the Martina McBride concert with Jennifer. Afterwards, we went out, leaving our things in her car. At The Stage on Broadway, I met John Corbett (the guy who plays Aidan on Sex and the City). He signed a bar napkin for me because my birthday is December 20. We returned to her SUV to find someone had broken the window and stolen one go-go boot (which I later recovered in the parking lot), my Phi Chi bag with my first and last name on it), and my purse. Here's the kicker: In my bag I had my almost brand-new Victoria's Secret Angels white bra. Someone stole my bra! I mean, I understand breaking into a car to steal a purse, but stay the hell away from my undergarments.

Luckily, I had a birthday coming up, so I told my mom I need a white Angels bra and I told her my size, to which she responded with: "You're a 36?" Yeah, thanks for the vote of confidence, mom. On a random note: My boobs are getting bigger! It's the weirdest thing, but they're much fuller now. I quite enjoy them. My mom got me the bra for my birthday, by the way. Good times.

Christmas came and went, and I had to work for an hour and a half (yeah, I ducked out early). That night I went to the Christmas game with Adam and the rest of the game crew. We lost (who knew), but it was still fun.

Then New Years happened, and I had a swell time, then, too. I even made a resolution: To blog more often. See! I've already done it. Obviously, this will be easier once I'm back on campus and can utilize the Sidelines equipment for my own personal blogging.

I'm on my elipsis right now. It's that span of time before my period where my boobs get bigger (that's the trend these days), and sometimes I'm moody. But I'm not that bad right now. I think the bigger boobs help. It's like God saying, "Sorry I made you be one of the smart kids growing up - have some more boobs!"

Did I mention I had to work on Christmas? And New Year's Eve and Day? Yeah, the world is a cruel cruel place.

Oh, for those of you who are addicted to reality TV, JR's blog is better than anything those CBS guys could come up with. And the greatest part is it happens in England, so if you aren't amused enough when you first read it, go back and add a few "jolly goods" and "cheerios." Ahh...I think I could get into reality British TV.

Until we meet again, this is Wendy reminding everyone to STAY THE HELL AWAY FROM MY UNDERGARMENTS. Unless, of course, you have reason to believe you're allowed to touch them, but you'd better give them back, and that doesn't mean throw them across the room and assume I'll find them. I mean, have you even seen my room?

Oh, Fuck, I Dropped My Crackers! OR Here I Come to Save the Gays!

I'm sitting in the Sidelines office with Manda, Colby, Matt, K-Hall, and the rest of the gang. Erica's here, too. I'm going to blog about Erica someday, but today is no such day.

I arrived in the office after working on my day off. I had an interview with Kristin (ne K-Hall) and found out that I'm going to do the Web site again next semester. Translation: I don't suck!

I also found out that instead of our usual March trip to NYC, we're jetting off to San Francisco, the land of cable cars, Rice-A-Roni, and Full House - a gay man's dream. Unfortunately, I am no gay man, though this is truly only unfortunate from a blogging perspective.

I won the lottery! Actually, I just got an extra pack of crackers out of the vening machine, but since I wasn't using my own money in the first place, it's like winning the lottery.

I got to see Adam for a whole 40 minutes last night before he had to go home. This sucks. This more than sucks. It sure was nice when we could do something other than meet up and say, "Hi. How are you? I missed you. I'm tired. I have to go now."

Hi. How are you? I missed you. I'm tired. I have to go now.

Let me drunk! I'm not drive!

Well, the long break for Thanksgiving meant I got to spend some quality time drinking with my parents. Here's the story.

Wednesday I was off from work, and the rest of the days I worked day shifts, if at all. So Wednesday night I met my parents at The Shack to hear Sammy play, along with Linda and Jimmy, Mike and Fran, and some guy (John I think) and his wife Linda.

I had about three drinks, a steak, and some dessert. At about 11 we decided to leave on account that everyone else, including the staff, was about to. Earlier in the evening Mike and Fran left, and since they rode with Linda and Jimmy, my dad told them to take the CRV.

Well, when the rest of our crew was ready to go, we realized there were few sober drivers and even fewer seats in vehicles.

Because I'd stopped drinking two hours ago, I drove my mom and dad home, first having to clear my mom off a small space to sit in the backseat of my car, then sternly telling my dad not to sit in the driver's seat, because he tried to.

Friday night was another night of fun as Adam came to visit (yeah, I know I promised not to blog about my boyfriend. Oh well). My parents spent the evening stealing each others' beers when the other wasn't looking. Naturally, Adam and I both had a little too much to drink, so neither one of us could operate a motor vehicle. My dad drove. Again, it was a default thing.

It was nice having a few drinks Friday, because family get-togethers sometimes leave me thinking "Gee, I could really go for a shot or two or eight right about now."

The Livestock Center Is Surprisingly High Tech OR I'm A Mighty Kid!

So I'm sitting in the Livestock Center at some makeshift cowboy apartment vvhich is surprisingly high tech despite the fact that the "vv" key doesn't vvork and I have to type a "v" tvvice in rapid succession.

Tina's competing in the AGR Hay Daze Svveetheart Pageant, and all is going vvell thus far, other than the fact that it's so damn cold I'm about to get hypothermia, and the space bar only occasionally vvorks. Damn that double v.

Initiation vvas this vveekend. Katie gave me her Phi Chi fleece! I'm so excited!

That's all folks - I've got to get back to the pageant stuff.

Waiting to EX-Hail to the Chief

Here I am on Election Day. I voted. I even have a sticker that says, appropriately, "I Voted." It doesn't say anything like "Kiss Me, I Voted" or "Fuck Me, I Voted." I just voted.

Now I'm sitting, nervously biting my nails...actually not, but if I had that nasty habit, I assure you I'd be biting right now. I'm thinking of starting smoking.

Now, I'm really hoping that Kerry makes me proud here, and not just because I had to pay money on my taxes last year, although that was BULLSHIT because I'm a full-time student with two jobs. But I digress.

Here's hoping to a successful night for the Democrats. It's not looking so hot, but I'm optimistic. We need New Hampshire, and Nevada wouldn't hurt. Come on, boys, I'm counting on you.

Now, as much as I'd love to stick around and blog about my nervousness, I really need to go back to my apartment, but DO NOT mistake that for wanting to go back. I'd just as soon kiss a Wookie.

I'm Still Not Pregnant

So I haven't blogged in a month. It's true. But I have good reason - I've been sick.

Not "I have a cold" sick. More like "Oh dear God I have the plague and I've been in bed for a month" sick. Really, ask around - it's true. I have mono. But I didn't always have mono. At one time, I just had a terrible ear infection and a bad case of tonsilitis.

So I go to see this doctor on campus and he looks in my ear and goes "Ohhh" all concerned like. He then looks at my throat and makes another disapproving sound as though he was afraid of whatever was inside. Now, this is not a reaction I like getting from a doctor when he examines any part of my body. Actually, I don't much care for that reaction from anyone.

So, here I am, eight prescriptions, five doctor visits and an emergency room trip later. Still sick. Still infected by some crazy supervirus. Well, it's the mono, and some other infections.

And no, to all you smartasses out there (and believe me, I'm one of them), Adam doesn't have mono. And yes, he does still kiss me, even though I have mono. What a guy!

So at the ER, I of course had to wear one of those backless gowns that are not only backless but also nearly impossible to tie by yourself, especially if you can't move too well because you've got severe abdominal pain, the source of which you've yet to determine, hence the ER visit. And no, there is no chance I could be pregnant, but thanks for asking seven or eight times, just in case I forgot what it takes to make a baby. You know, if it were a possibility, I would've thought of that, because beginning at age 14 everytime I've had a stomach ache I've been asked that - AT LEAST TWICE. So back off with the pregnant talk, OK? Unless it's the baby Jesus, we can skip the pregnancy test disguised as a urine sample. I know you're gonna screen it for pregnancy. I wish everytime a man had a stomach ache some doctor or nurse asked him "Is there any chance you could've gotten someone pregnant?"

What comes to mind? "I shouldn't have worn a thong today." After they made me pee in a cup, the nurse man (who was really nice) came in to take my blood. Well, a few months ago I got this tattoo, and sometimes I forget I have it. I'll just be changing and look in the mirror and be like "Hey! That's cool!" but since I can't see it, I don't think about it much now. He commented on it, and of course, I follow with a witty "You're not going to believe this, but I'm terrible with needles."

So I cried for my dad, whined about missing Adam, and just generally had a bad time with the blood-taking experience. He did a good job, though; I'm just not one for bloodwork, especially since they took it last week to do the mono test.

JR's finally got around to updating his blog (ironically, I got onto him about never blogging and then I got more than a month without blogging), so I'm getting to read about life in the mother country. We still have no internet access at the apartment, but due to the doctor's order that I stay in bed and slowly waste away in Hendersonville for at least three days, I'm at the ready for the blogging.

Well, I'm off to get BACK in bed and do some more of that resting I've gotten so good at. What can I say - I get a lot of practice. But first, the top five perks of having mono.

• Everyone is really nice to you when they know you have the power to unleash the kind of germs that will floor them for a good month or so.
• It's fun to get! It's the "kissing disease" - awww yeah. Actually, I don't know how I got it. The doctors speculate that I got it because my resisitance was so low due to the ridiculous amount of other health problems I'd been having (remember the horrifying throat? I wasn't kidding about that) that it was easier for me to get. But having mono does make people wonder "Who have you been kissing?" You know, it helps with my pimp status.
• There is no such thing as a bad movie or TV show when you're lying on the couch in pain with a fever. It could've been the fever, or the fact that I was too weak to actually change the channel, but reruns of "Pimp My Ride" and the Real World/Road Rules battle of the sexes really aren't that bad.
• Side effects can be rewarding. They gave me some narcotic pain pill that I'm not supposed to take and drive because it can cause drowsiness. So last Saturday night I took it around 1:30 a.m., once I'd gotten home from work and made a quick bite to eat. I lay awake in bed until 8:15 when I got up for work, and I don't mean I was kind of drowsy and dozed a few minutes. I was wide the hell awake. But here's the thing: At work the next day, I didn't feel sleep deprived. I worked for 10 hours with no break (I never get breaks) and didn't feel any more tired than I usually do. Then it occurred to me: Duh! I took a narcotic! So I got a glimpse at what life would be like on speed: Stay up all night and never feel tired. Of course, I slept a really long time once I actually got home from work.
• It's like a mini vacation! Yeah, when you're sick and contagious, people pretty much leave you alone. I mean, no one wants to get mono, so say goodbye to people invading your personal space or wanting you to go sit at some crappy restaurant with a group of people and drink coffee for two hours. "Gee, I'd love to go, but I've got mono. I'm supposed to stay in bed. Otherwise, I'd be happy to help you rearrange your closet and alphabetize your pantry. Maybe when I get better in four to six weeks." I mean, by that time, they've forgotten. There is one exception to this: Adam doesn't leave me alone. Which is good! Because it's really good for the ego when you've been sick with mono for a month (don't worry, I'm getting to the ego boost) and your boyfriend rolls over and starts kissing your neck in his sleep. I mean, how sweet is that? Granted, he has no idea he's doing it, but it's still nice.

Now I'm going to bed, because the abdominal pain in coming back, most likely because my pain pill has worn off. And no, there's still no chance I could be pregnant.

These People Got the Bronze in the Human Race

I liked my last list blog so much that I decided to create another one, this one devoted solely to the many types of people who annoy me. Enjoy.

People I Can Do Without:

• Parents who let their undisciplined children run rampant through my store dripping sweet and sour frooze pops on everything in sight. I know you think it's cute, but it's not cute enough to outweigh the annoyance that I incur while trying to rid the Bubble Tape of the sticky goo. There are reasons why these things come with lids. Wait until you're safe inside your power-door convertible backseat minivan to rip that sucker open. In fact, kids shouldn't be handling any product that includes the words "sticky goo" without a helmet and adult supervision. You know, the whole "Keep out of the reach of children" really ought to apply to those neon-colored sugar fixes, too. Oh, and don't eat the silicon. It's not good for you.
• Anyone willing to argue for more than 10 minutes about a late fee less than 10 dollars. Get a life. Deal with it. You know, think of all the times you thought you had a late fee but didn't. I mean, really, you're balancing out.
• Any professor who expects you to do anything other than sleep in on a holiday weekend. Your class is important, but it is not the only class I have, and when it's Labor Day weekend, as far as I'm concerned, I have no classes. Just think, the less you make me do, the less you have to do. Everybody wins!
• Anyone who calls me on my off day for a reason other than death or near death or disaster of some sort. The longest I do without work is one day off. It can wait. I know you don't think it can, but it can. Trust me. I know these things. You don't want to hear the type of solution I'm going to come up with at 9:27 a.m. on my day off. For all intents and purposes, I don't exist between the hours of 5 a.m. and 1 p.m. During those times, I cease to be.

Well, hopefully I've regained some blog respect after my last sub-par entry. But just in case that list didn't do it: Joey is still cool.

DELETED!

Wow. I've really been neglecting my blog lately. How sad.

Actually, I was on vacation for a while. After that, I went right back to school, living in my apartment with no Internet access. Hence my lack of blogging.

So what's been happening to me the past 16 days, you ask? Well, I have a boyfriend now! But I refuse to be one of those girls who blogs about her boyfriend, so that's all for that.

I had entirely too much fun deleting some people from my cell phone. You know, every now and then you've got to scroll through the numbers, and if you find yourself asking "Who is that?" it's time to erase and shout "DELETED!"

I have a virtual pet thing named Spike. He's three. He's sleeping right now, so he can't come out to play. Oh well. Adam and Tina are both on their second pet - theirs died. But Spike lives!

My work screwed up my check AGAIN this week and didn't put my raise on it, so they owe me a hefty bit of cash whenever they decide to backpay me for their screwups.

My tattoo is now finished - it has color, and it looks really good. Next stop on the Wendy Express: Eyebrow ring.

Well, now I'm going to eat my Jersey Mike's sub and watch The Rundown or various episodes of Buffy Season 2. And yes, I know this blog was extremely lame and not as witty as I usually am. I promise to be more charming next time.

Tonight: Partly Cloudy, Tomorrow: Republicans

In less than 12 hours, I will be on a nonstop flight to New York City. This is quite exciting - I haven't had a vacation in far too long. And what's better than jetting off to the land of tall buildings, fast cabs and overpriced, well, everything? Not much.

However, while I'm basking in the joys of my vacation, New York will be invaded by...Republicans!

Yes, it just so happens that the lovely congregating of these people - the Republican National Convention - will be getting underway while I'm galavanting around the big city. Naturally, I've prepared accordingly.

I'm fully equipped with the First Amendment. In true liberal fashion, this is my defense to everything. It's like verbal pepper spray, and it works wonders on conservatives:
"You can't say that!"
"Actually, I'm protected by the First Amendment."
"What? Ahhh! The only amendment that matters is the second - guns, guns, guns!"

I'm also toting my razor-sharp wit. This will come in handy when they bring out the Botox jokes. I'll just unleash a stream of witticisms and watch in awe as they marvel at my quick yet cunning retorts. If only I had a Clinton T-shirt. Then I'd really be ready to hit the Big Apple.

At any rate, I'm very excited about my trip. I've never flown alone before, and what better time to try that out than straight into LaGuardia in the midst of a political bruhaha.

I've also never chased a shoplifter until tonight, but there's a first time for everything. He was scared of me, too. "Oh shit, the little girl's gonna kill me!"

A special shout-out to Erica - happy birthday! Try not to get so drunk that you don't remember it, because someone will, and you don't want the stories to be too embarassing.

And for anyone wondering, I'm obviously still on my streak of good days and nights or I would've blogged sooner. Yes, it is still good to be me.

My Windshield Says I Have Squirrelly Wrath

I had the greatest block of hours I've had in a long time last night. One of the many reasons was an impulse-buying extravaganza at Wal-Mart. Where else can you get candy bars, cookies, caldendars (which, the Tina, I might have left on your table in your living room), shirts, and oil for Mannix? Life just doesn't get much better than that. After having way too much fun with the window chalk on every car belonging to someone we knew within walking distance, we retreated to watch The Exorcist, which I had never seen before. The other hours of my night and morning were great also. So great, in fact, that I'm not even going to blog about them. Sometimes it's good to be me.

Oh, and to my Meggers: I love you! I'm thinking about you all the time - so much, in fact, that I could become obsessive. You should feel special - I'm only obsessive about people who are as great as I am. OK, all kidding aside, I hope that you feel as good as humanly possible. Meggers' Keggers!

Abso-fucking-lutely Cathartic

After reading Joey's blog, I've decided to make a few lists of my own. Enjoy.

Things I'm Tired of Being Asked

• "Do you work here?" No. I like to dress up in Blockbuster attire and walk around to confuse the customers. You know, once, while in Kroger (in Blockbuster attire), I got asked this same question. I've also been mistaken for a Wal-Mart employee. I don't even own a blue vest.
• "Did it (getting your tattoo) hurt?" No. It felt great. I love having needles in me for an hour and half. It's like acupuncture, only instead of healing you, you get a permanent mark on you. Neat.
• "Is The Passion of the Christ out yet?" "When is it coming out?" "Can I reserve a copy to rent now?" Ahh! I have been asked this at least thrice a day since May, and that's being optimistic. April is more like it. August 31. Mark your freakin' Palm Pilot so you'll remember that date. August 31. Thankfully, I will not be working that day. I will be getting the color on my tattoo. Oh, and to avoid future questions: Yes, that will hurt, too.

Celebrities I Would Date If I Were Famous

• Johnny Depp in Chocolat
• Orlando Bloom in Lord of the Rings
• Orlando Bloom in Pirates of the Caribbean
• Orlando Bloom in Troy (I haven't seen it yet, but I'm sure he's hot in that, too)
• Johnny Depp in Pirates of the Caribbean ("Why is the rum gone?" That's my kind of man)
• Johnny Depp in What's Eating Gilbert Grape (OK, I lied. I'd marry him in that one)
• Ewan McGregor in Moulin Rouge
• Nicole Kidman in Moulin Rouge (Come on, who wouldn't?)
• Ewan McGregor in Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
• Hayden Christensen in Star Wars Episode II: Attack of the Clones
• James Marsters in Buffy seasons 2, 5, 6, and 7
• Brad Pitt in Legends of the Fall

Words I Say Too Often

• Random
• Tragic
• Dramatic
• Traumatic
• Tattoo
• Fuck
• Evil
• Buddha
• Tranquil

Words I'd Like to Work into Every Conversation

• Cathartic
• Kinesthetic
• Abso-fucking-lutely
• Auspicious
• Hedonist
• Love (Aww, I do have a soft side)

Places I'd Like to be Right Now

• New York City
• Deacon Brodie's, my favorite NYC bar
• The Tina's
• Greece (I've never been, but I think I'd like it)
• Wherever Johnny Depp is right now
• Wherever Orlando Bloom is right now (This becomes #1 on the list if he and Johnny are in the same place)
• Bed
• Disney World
• Some beach far away from the hurricane
• A hot tub or in a bubble bath (damn the new tattoo)

That's all for now.

High Like a Twelve-year-old

I've been on boy high since Saturday, and I haven't come down yet. It's great. I forgot how great that was. You know, being wrapped up in my man-hating, I forgot how much fun it is to have a crush on someone. It makes me feel like a twelve-year-old again, only now I've got breasts and a tattoo.

Falling in Love is Hard on the Knees, Falling out of Love is Dramatic

I've had an interesting few days, and that's putting it mildly.

First off, I'm living a day ahead of everyone else. For some reason, I keep thinking it's a day later than what it really is. I'm living in the future. That's because I'm much more advanced than most people.

I had a great two days off from work, and by great I mean I spent most of them with the Tina and other such great people I don't get to see on a regular basis. I didn't stick around Hendersonville on my days off - I actually went to Murfreesboro. I had much fun. Looking forward to more fun.

Then, last night and tonight, I've been doing something I never thought I'd do - fall out of love. And, in all honesty, it's not as difficult or traumatic as I had expected. It was a quick fall. Now, if I were clever, I'd make some kind of reference to Paradise Lost, but I'm not really in a literary mood.

Right now I'm enjoying a snack of peanut butter (there's not much to eat here). My mouth is sticky, but it's delicious. Satisfies my constant need to add even more protein to my diet.

Speaking of satisfying needs, there's nothing like playing a murdering lunatic in an XBOX game to help blow off some steam, which now I can do thanks to Clarke and his generous donation to my goal to be evil (at least, in an rpg). Clarke has allowed me to borrow his XBOX and my favorite game so I can kill all kinds of things. Thanks, Clarke. You're a pal.

I finally bought my Buddha incense burner, so now I can ignite things in peace. It should be big fun.

So this falling out of love thing - I'll explain this later. Right now, suffice it to say that I've been spending a great deal of time talking to someone, and this someone has brought to light some rather interesting things. This is of course only a segue into what is sure to be even more drama because nothing in life is simple, which I guess is why it's interesting. At any rate, I used to have this image of someone, and now I see that I was terribly wrong. And that's devastating, and not just because I don't like being wrong.

You think you know a person. I guess no one every really knows anyone. But I know me pretty well, and I'm through crying. I've cried way too much, and I don't like it, and I'm through with it. I've gone from hurt to sad to confused to destroyed to hopeful to destroyed to angry to confused again all in about a week, and frankly, I'm emotioned out.

I Cried at Six Flags Over Jesus

Kari got married, and it was beautiful. The church she had it at is this massively large new Methodist church in Murfreesboro. The church is so big, in fact, that some of my friends have dubbed it "Six Flags Over Jesus."

So when the time came for my Lil Sis Kari to walk down the aisle on her wedding day, I cried. It's weird that I cry at weddings, but I do. Partly because she's growing up, getting married, starting a new life and it's something that we all kind of have to let her do on her own. Partly it's because I'm happy for her. And I think partly it's because I'm sad for me. Kari has a kind of happiness that I don't, and while I'd rather see her happy than myself happy, it's still nice to have something to look forward to. I don't have much to look forward to these days.

Let's backtrack a bit to Thursday. Thursday is a day I'd rather forget, but odds are I'm not going to, so we might as well just cut to the chase. Very short story because the details are about as painful as getting a tattoo (which I will get to later) go as follows: Someone I love very much cares not whether I live or die.

Now, love is an extremely intense emotion. Hate is an extremely intense emotion. Indifference might as well be a non-emotion. There are few if any people on this planet I am indifferent to, and it sure as hell isn't anyone I ever loved in any way.

Que sera sera. So come Friday (my first day off in two weeks) I decided that if I was going to go through intense emotional pain, I needed something to show for it. Ergo, my new tattoo. The Tina got one, too. So now I'm permanently scarred - literally. Wasn't that clever? How I tied that together? Yeah, I amaze myself somethings, but enough of the biting sarcasm.

Friday night turned into a lovely episode of some show I'd call "A Girl, a Guy, and a Jeremy" if I were pitching it to a network television executive. First we have the Tina. Second is Clarke. Third is Jeremy. Now, watching these three in a room (and that happens quite often being as though they live together) is more entertaining than any reality television show they've got.

And lest I piss anyone off to the point of no return, this next part is, you know, supposed to be FUNNY. Not real. Funny, with slices of reality mixed in.

Jeremy is this strong guy with some nice tattoos and some nice muscles. The funniest thing about him is that he's currently involved in some penis rediscovery that makes everything he does incredibly funny, and if it isn't incredibly funny, Clarke makes an incredibly funny comment about it.

Clarke has some muscles, too. And a tattoo. So you've got two tattooed strong guys in a house, so you're naturally going to have some fun interaction. Clarke, by the way, is not rediscovering his penis and is mainly concerned with never discovering Jeremy's. This alone is a sitcom.

Enter the Tina, the token girl with the token cat. Also the token smoker. So what each episode about is basically it's almost bedtime, but everyone is restless. Hilarity ensues.

Episode One: The Gigantic Chickens
Episode Two: Can I Break It, Fuck It, or Eat It?

But enough of that - you guys know I only do this because I love you and I think you're all very funny.

To Kari and Matt: I love you guys. Enjoy marital bliss. Have some for me!

Something Old, Something New, Something's Really Really Screwed

Kari's wedding is Saturday, and while I'm very excited for her, I can't help but be reminded of how much I hate this whole wedding concept. Kari: Not your wedding. I'm very excited about your wedding. I'm referring to those family members who keep insisting I get married and soon before their kids are too old to be in my wedding.

Here are just a few reasons why I do not wish to get married:

1) I hate all men. It's true. My last whatever it was screwed me up so bad that I am absolutely never dating again. So all you men out there who want to marry me, tough. You can take it up with him. Use lots of profane words. Frankly, I'm tired of the heartache. Seven used to be my lucky number. Not so much. He was the seventh guy I ever dated or what-have-you. So I'm through. Now I pass my days loving someone who doesn't love me. It's exhausting.

2) I don't need to validate myself through a man. Especially because I do not hold men in general in very high regard, so why do I need one? I don't. I'm perfecting capable of spending enternity working, spending money on expensive cars, and watching movies all night.

3) If you get married, then you get harassed about when you're having kids. I don't have the hips for kids. I think I'll forgo that kid thing and just stay single and bitter. And no use adopting: A single and bitter woman shouldn't raise children.

4) While a wedding sounds like tons of fun, paying for one does not. I don't want to spend several thousand dollars on something I can do in Vegas with Elvis. And while you do get presents, I bet a lot of them suck.

5) As I eluded to before. I've already found someone. He doesn't want me. You know, because he's a man and therefore evil. Did I mention I'm undatable? Apparently I am, so spread the word. At any rate, when you find someone, there is no one else. Oh well. I tried.

So Kari, congratulations! I know you and Matt will be very happy. As for me, I'm taking the solo road. By the way, when are you having kids? Mwahahahaha!

Narcissism and Nerds Rope

I'm baking chicken right now, and I need to kill the time between when I put it in the oven and when I take it out and gorge myself as though I haven't eaten in days. It's really only been about five hours, but that's way too long for me.

Work was interesting to say the least. To make a long story short: We caught an employee stealing. Said employee is now a former employee, and I'm still working too much. You know, just in case you were wondering.

While reading my blog (because I'm an incredible narcissist), I noticed that my Monday plans included something to the effect of work not calling me unless someone was dead or on fire. Well, they called. But no one died or got ignited. Too bad, too. That would've been incentive to drive faster since I was coming from Murfreesboro.

After work, I hit the showers and then the hot tub with Leslie, Thomas, Trevor and Trevor's cousin. I think he name was Eric, but we only met briefly and frankly I don't really remember and won't lose any sleep over it. Trevor's cousin will be a suffice description.

The president of the company sent me a thank you card and $10 in gift cards because of some customer compliment I got. That's pretty swell. I spend so much freakin' money buying Coke and Nerds Rope that $10 will be pretty nice.

Now, let's get into this Nerds Rope thing. This is by far the BEST candy I have ever had, and that's saying a lot coming from a chocolate fiend such as myself. I mean, I'm so addicted to caffeine that I get figity if I DON'T have it. Likewise, I love my chocolate.

But Nerds Rope. That's some good stuff. It's this gummy red rope thing (think stretched-out gummy bear) covered in Nerds. Oh it's truly fantastic. In fact, it's so fantastic that we don't have any. Why you ask? Well, I ate them all. Most of them anyway. I didn't eat the last one, but I did eat the second-to-last one. Then, on my way to work Tuesday, I bought two from the Hendersonville store because frankly I can't imagine a whole shift without Nerds Rope. They were scrumptious.

We have more on order. Why you ask? I ordered them. I love doing the candy order. It means I can get whatever I think will sell, but it also means I can stock up on all the things I like to snack on while I'm slaving away for a mere hourly wage that sweatshop workers in China would complain about.

However, times when you can catch an employee stealing or get recognized by the head of the company make you feel better about all the work you're doing. Now, I'm not condoning employee theft just because I get a rush from catching people. In fact, I'd rather feel underpaid and have an honest staff. Having said that, if someone's going to get caught, I like having a hand in the catching. It makes me feel I'm doing something right. Other than eating Nerds Rope.

I was in the room for the whole ordeal, and I must say my manager really impressed me. She handled the situation well. So Debbie, if you ever read this, you're a good worker, too. Have a Nerds Rope in celebration.

OK, so let's recap the day: I'm great, Debbie's great, hot tubs are great, Nerd's Rope is great, employee theft sucks. Oh, and as always, Joey's great.

More proof they're coming to take me away, ha ha

I broke my worry stone.

I didn't even think that was possible, but sure enough, I worried about a fourth of it off.

I bet it has something to do with working every single day this week. That's right - I have worked or am working on both of my off days this week: Monday and Wednesday. Total number of hours if I don't go over my scheduled time each day: 54.5.

I spent a great deal of last night lying in bed with incense and candles reading Chuang Tzu. It was quite relaxing. Tonight after work, Leslie and I took a late-night trip to Steak 'n' Shake before embarking on the wonderful world of Wal-Mart in search of more incense and other such things we think we needed. Alas, Wal-Mart had no incense, but we did manage to spend a collective $90 or so on non-incense.

Debbie (my boss) has agreed to order Cherry Coke. This is quite exciting, because I'm sick of regular Coke and Dr. Pepper every day. Dusty, Susan and I have committed to buying Cherry Coke on our shifts.

I've decided I want a long-distance relationship right now. Mainly for two reasons: 1) I don't want to have to call myself single; 2) Absence makes the heart grow less annoyed at all the day-to-day crap that's hard to deal with after a few weeks of non-stop contact. I'd like for someone to call me once a week and have a conversation that goes something like "Hi. I love you. I miss you." "Good. Keep missing me. You're good at it."

Now, I must say that I rarely get tired of people, and this last statement has nothing to do with my last "or something" but rather about men in general. My last "or something" was fan-fucking-tastic, which of course meant it had to end because the powers that be wish me to be miserable and unhappy. Attention whoever is in charge: It's working.

Having said that, here's a special want ad I've composed which I will never print anywhere because I'm not that lonely...yet.

"Single female seeking male companion to do whatever I want and constantly reassure me that I'm the greatest of God's creations and the world itself would stop revolving if I weren't in it. Must be willing to listen to incessant bitching for no apparent reason, and must be able to notice even the slightest change in hairstyle or bodily appearance. Should drive a vehicle that costs more than the average person's salary. Must not freak out at hearing phrases such as 'My uterus hurts' during that time of the month. Speaking of that time, anything said during that time is automatically pardoned due to temporary insanity, and anything said at any other point in our blissful relationship is fair game to be brought up during an argument held during that time, which I will inevitably win. Preferably hot. Ideally, out of my league. IQs less than 130 need not apply."

I mean, if I'm going to be delusional and think there are decent men out there just waiting for me, I'm at least going to go all-out delusional; none of this realistic "it could actually happen" shit.

By the way, whoever came up with the asinine notion of adding an apostrophe to the plural forms of words like DVDs and IQs (DVD's, IQ's) and decades (1980's) should really be tarred, feathered and run out of town. Apostrophes show ownership.

Correct: An apostrophe's purpose is to show ownership. I use apostrophes only when necessary.
Blasphemous to the English language: In the 1990's, I bought some DVD's because they were on sale. They were laid out on special table's of the for-sale item's. I filled three shopping cart's full of electronic's. I then punched myself in the face for being such an idiot.

Spiritual guidance for $1.99

On my day off (which turned into the day I had to work, but I'll get to that later), I decided to spend some quality time with the Tina. The Tina is my sorority lil sis, and we have much fun together. On this excursion, we enjoyed some delicious Demos' and then did some shopping at the ever-happening Murfreesboro square. So began my quest for the Buddha.

Let's backtrack a bit. Last semester I took Oriental Thought, a lovely class centered on Buddhism, Hinduism, Taoism (my personal favorite) and the like. Just for kicks, I took one of those Internet quizzes on religion (of course, these quizzes never lie). Good news! I'm a Buddhist! Last year I was a Quaker. I must say I've gotten much cooler. Another Internet quiz says my heart chakra is the most closed of all my chakras. That explains the entry from a few days ago "Why I will never marry a woman or why I hate all men."

Back to the Buddha. I must note that I find it impossible to completely separate religion and philosophy, and I've also noticed that my philosophy tends to be very Eastern. Hence the Buddhism. But I'm really more of a Taoist.

At any rate, browsing through the candles, stones and other such goodies, I decided to go on a quest for a Buddha. They had several. I got a small one for $1.99. Now, I would've been willing to splurge more, of course, but I was shopping with the Tina, so I got her belated birthday present. It's this really cool windchime.

We also went to Icon to inquire about our tattoos, and we've decided to get them on our backs. It's going to hurt like a bitch I know, and I'm sure I'll cry like a baby, but when I blog it I'll of course be brave and not shed a tear.

I bought some candles and a really pretty worry stone that's supposed to help with logical thinking and math and whatnot. I'm now going to light said candles, burn some incense and relax after a long day.

Oh, and Joey is still cool.

T minus 9,000 hours to BMW

I've determined that I'm mere years from graduation, so I'd best start planning my post-graduation vehicle. Now, I've oft said that the next car I buy will be my BMW. I wasn't kidding. I will drive Mannix around until he falls apart, and then I will purchase my lovely BMW Z4 Roadster for the bargain price of $55,249 (yes, I built it online).

Now, I know that sounds pricey, but I've done the math. At my current pathetic hourly wage, I'll only have to work a mere 8,769.6825 hours. Alright kids, get out your calculators and figure out what I make an hour. See, math is fun and easy!

I figure once I throw in taxes and outrageous insurance premiums (I'm counting on a discount because that will be my line of work), I can just round it up to 9,000 hours. However, my upcoming promotion will shrink those hours, so I'll keep you posted on the BMW progress.

In other news, I'm off tomorrow! I plan to go to the Boro, pay some bills, do lunch with the Tina (yes, the article is necessary), then paint my apartment. Beware: If you work with me, calling me would be a bad idea. You know, unless you're dead or on fire. But if that's the case, you know, stop drop and roll. And quit calling from the nether realm. It's quite annoying.

Why I will never marry a woman or why I hate all men

I've booked my plane ticket to NYC, so all is right in the world. I can't afford to drink in New York, but I won't let a little thing like that get in the way. When I take my vacation, pity be on those who interrupt my galavanting around Manhattan drunk at 3 in the morning, staring at the lights in Times Square and oohing and ahhing and overusing the word "pretty."

Cadence is quite sick, so I went over to his house Friday night. Joe and his girlfriend Heidi were there as well, and it all got more than weird when Joe's crazy ex-wife Laura made her cameo banging on the door. Cadence, in what I'm sure was a good intention gone horribly awry, had the bright idea to try to hide Heidi from Laura. Now, a normal way to hide someone is something to the effect of "go hide in Joe's room" or "hide under this blanket." Instead, the way of hiding was "come sit with me and if she says anything to you, say 'I'm with Cadence.'"

Well, seeing a young attractive thing sitting on the arm of his chair with his arm kind of around her was more than I was prepared to stomach, so I said something like "I think I need to leave." Naturally, nobody noticed this "I'm about to make an abrupt exit" warning, so said exit came across very abrupt. Everyone was whispering, I guess because nobody wanted anyone else to hear what they were saying, so I think he whispered my name as I was leaving. But I didn't fancy getting into it in front of Heidi (whom I had just met), and I sure as hell wasn't going to stick around for the shit hitting the fan that always tends to follow Laura on her many rampages to the house.

I managed to get my car out of the garage (I'm freakishly strong I've been told), then I sat in it, listened to depressing music, and did that sort of loud crying that you think only happens in overdramatic movies (think Diane Keaton in "Something's Gotta Give"). I then impulsively drove to the gas station, filled up my tank, and came back after I noticed Laura was not around.

I sat in my car staring at my knife for a while, then re-entered the house, mainly because I didn't want to freak out Heidi, and because I'd rather feel out of place there than at home somewhere else.

I did a lot of staring into space and/or at my knife for the rest of the evening until I fell asleep around 3:30 or so. Cadence never woke me up, so I slept until work woke me up around 1 p.m., because it's obviously not in God's plan for me to get a night of uninterrupted sleep.