word to the wise...

if your voice is so shot that you sound somewhat like an emphysemic hermaphrodite may i recommend you not attempt teach 20 rowdy 5 year olds about taste. and by teach them about taste i mean, feed them all sorts of sweet, sour, bitter, and just plain nasty things that causes them to run screaming to the water fountain and pseudo-vomit all over the place.

added by author 3/1 @ 20:11

i do, however, highly recommend taking a day off and sleeping, dousing yourself in vicks vap-o-rub, downing some tylenol severe cold pills, sleeping some more, drinking tea, eating poptarts, watch bad tv, and repeating as necessary.

the upside...

b/c i'm an eternal optimist, here are a few postive points about having a new found ability to, almost simulatneously, cough up a lung and blow all sorts of nastiness out your nose .

- medicine doesn't wanna leave your system. or maybe it's the fact that you just keep taking more, despite the warning labels. either way, perma-loopy is a happy happy state.
- who needs anna and her trimspa(tm) when you've got little-to-no appetite.
- adding a splash of whiskey to your tea and honey (read: splash of tea and honey to your whiskey) not only aids the healing process but it keeps that perma-loopy thing going even longer.
- all couch all day. and you don't even have to feel guilty about being a bum.
- naps. whenever you want. however long you'd like. (aided in part by my bestest friend, nyquil) awesome.
- people are much more willing to do things for you. so what if it's out of pity and/or they're hoping you won't actually take them up on the offer.
- medicine + fever + crack-cocaine= finally a valid excuse for your delusions and random, slightly spastic, nature.

p.s. it's normal not to feel your outer extremities. isn't it?

good things...

it's a good thing i sound like my name should be beverly, i work in bowling alley, and i've been smoking since i was 12.

it's also a good thing it's friday and that all i can eat is fish. b/c you know, fish is oh so appetizing when you're sicker'n a dog.

awesome.

it's the end of the world as we know it...and i feel like crap

i take it back. it wasn't me. whatever i did, i'm sorry. please forgive me. anything you want me to say or do consider it done. just pleeeeeeease make it stop.

i don't know what i did to deserve this painful existence. i wonder if the big man upstairs sat down with his homies and planned my slow and painful death by coughing, sniffling, sneezing, stuffy head so i can't rest medicine. nor do i know if they just threw in the achiness for shits and giggles. or maybe i'm unfairly blaming his entourage. maybe they had nothing to do with it and he just decided on a whim "oh hey, sara hasn't been curled into the fetal position b/c of a rare and incurable disease in a while. let's make her suffer with 2 colds in less than a month. yeah that'll be fun. "

well i got news for you mr. mistoffelees... it's not fun. so knock it off.

bumper cars...

i'm not trying to insult the ford ranger in any way. heck we use to have one of our own. i am however, insulting the awesome woman driving the ford ranger. ya see, little miss 'i failed driver's ed' not only bit the big one as far as how to drive in traffic, but she also had the following bumper sticker: real women drive trucks.

real women drive trucks? you mean like the little dinky "truck" you're driving? the one that could be run off the road by a sports sedan of the same size? i think when they came up with that bumper sticker they intended it for women who drive large trucks. as in trucks that could fit at least a couple kegs of beer in the back. not for women who also have a sticker that says 'i'm not gay, i'm fluffy.'

papa s in the hizzouse...

ladies and gentleman. boys and girls. i present to you, the supplier of half my genes. papa s. and no i don't mean smurf. although that would be kinda cool if your last name was smurf so you could call your dad papa smurf and you could be smurfette. but you wouldn't have to be tiny and blue. cuz being tiny and blue wouldn't be very cool. talk about being a minority. anyway. i digress.

imagine my surprise and elation to learn my daddy-o had found this silly little blogity-blog and posted a comment [link]. my guess is that he was being oh so fatherly, and googling his kiddo's names and happened upon this. or perhaps he was searching for something of significance and somehow stumbled onto the blog of a bumbling idiot, who just so happens to be his youngest daughter.

whatever the reason, hiya pops! we're happy to have you. please don't hold anything i say on here against me in a court of law. or at the dinner table.

added by author 2/23/05 @ 13:45

so apparently the memo has been sent out about this here site. we are all sorts of popular today.

so without further adeiu, i welcome the woman, the myth, the legend, and the voluntary donor of the other half of my genetic code (not to mention, the incubator that hatched this little chickety)...mama s!

i'd also like to welcome my dear sweet lauren. glad you found me. and i love that you found me on a day where my 'song of the day' just so happened to be one that is associated with our glorious freshman year and those pesky sophmore boys. i still refer to them as that. and by refer i mean to myself. while reminiscing. alone. in my room. late at night. with mass quantities of chocolate and a sam's club size box of kleenex.

me moment of the day...

i often laugh out loud and/or talk to myself while watching television. the big ern can attest to this. you can usually find me saying things like "hahaha. that's hilarious!" "sooo hot, want to touch the hiney!" "holy crap batman!" or the most common "i love him!"

today as i was watching my daily rerun of ed, i couldn't help but laugh hysterically and belt out a nice hearty "i love him!" (in reference to tom cavanaugh of course). immediately after it came out i found myself thinking "wow, that was really loud" and then i heard the neighbor's door close. i tell you what, if the situation was reversed and i heard "hahaha! i love him!" coming out of my neighbor's place, i do believe i would stand in my doorway for a moment with a look of confusion and fear, and then immediately get online and blog about my freak of a neighbor.

i should keep my eye out for any recently updated blogs about strange neighbors that profess their love to tv characters on a disturbingly regular basis.

fyi...

lack of sex causes poor eyesight

tomorrow's headline...

"man freezes nads off when he forgets to wear a coat"

i'm sorry. maybe i missed the memo. but in what alternate universe is it a good idea to wear just a tshirt and jeans in 30 degree temperatures? no hat. no gloves. and certainly no jacket. who does that?

i don't care if you're "just running to the store" or if you don't realize the temperature is a tit bit nipply until you step out your front door. wouldn't the snow flurries and uh, cold air, clue you into the need for a coat?

dumbass.

random thought of the day...

why do they ask for your weight on driver's licenses? it's not like any average person would tell the truth about how much they weigh. especially women. and it's not like it matters anyway. you can lie all you want. it's not like the dmv dude is gonna question it. i dare the dmv dude to question a woman about her weight.

in fact, i double-dog dare him.

i hate it when that happens....

the bathroom incident got me thinking about things that happen to me and make me go "i hate it when that happens." the following are all things that occured this week.

- you trip over your own feet and look like a complete dope. only to make yourself feel worse by giving in to natural reflex and look back at the ground. confirming the fact that you really did just trip on nothing.

- you get a phone call from a number you don't know and have to wait until about 5 minutes in to the conversation before you figure out who you're speaking to.

- you have only one guy tell you he loves you one valentine's day. a 6 year old. by the way, he also asked if he could pinch your butt. repeatedly. (boy, do i feel bad for that kid's parents. they're in for a looooooong adolescence.)

- traffic screeches to a halt b/c two cars decide they want to speak to eachother. and to do so they apparently have to stop side-by-side in the middle of traffic and cause a near pile-up.

- you leave your phone (aka connection to the outside world) at the office.

- you almost pee your pants cuz you're laughing so hard.

- you actually do pee your pants. but not cuz you were laughing too hard.

ok that last one didn't happen. it'd suck if it did though.

happy weekend!

it wasn't me...

you know how you go into a bathroom and someone before you has stunk the joint up. but when you gotta go, you gotta go. so you buckle down, do your bidness, and wash your hands all in record time. only to have someone else walk in right as you're leaving. and you just know they think you're the stinky-bottomed culprit? i hate it when that happens.

going bald...

by the end of the day i do believe i will have pulled out all of my hair. why? because i hate the internet and want it to die.

yeah you heard me.

hotmail, blogger, hotmidgets.com...biteme.

the internet sucks a big one today. and i'm not happy about it. i already wanted to drop kick al gore across the room and now i reeeeally want to. i don't care that he didn't actually invent the internet. he claims he did, and i need a scapegoat.

single white female...

so i think our 3 doors away neighbor might be stalking me. 94.7362% of the times i'm entering or exiting our apartment this woman is outside. either letting her little, yelpy, furball dog do it's bidness or going to her boat of a car. and she always, without fail, tries to start a conversation with me. i never let it go past the weather, though.

we never see any of our neighbors except this woman. and i see her at least once a day. and i'm not talking just in the am or evening when a lot of people are coming and going b/c of work. i'm talking random times. midafternoon, early early morning. the only time she's not is late late at night. it's really quite odd. i feel like she must wait and watch by the window, or something equally creepy.

looks like i'm gonna have to start dressing incognito.

i hate it when that happens.

the boob tube...

can i have zach braff's babies? please? no seriously. i love the man. and scrubs. how funny is that show?? if you don't watch it, you really need to start. i never laugh harder than i do on tuesday nights.

well except on sunday nights. that's when arrested development is on. it's even funnier than scrubs, if you can believe it. no really. i always make sure i have a towel nearby when i watch the bleuth family robinson duke it out each week. ya know, just in case i do actually pee my pants. i'm always worried i will considering how freakin' hilarious that crazy fam damily is.

while i'm on the subject here are a few other shows you should watch, or do what we do and set your tivo to "record series."

alias...michael vartan, so hot, want to touch the hiney. and i do believe the same could be said about a little damsel named jennifer garner. don't hold it against sydney that jenny from this block is dating bennie boy...syd would never make that mistake.

veronica mars...ok so i know this is on the upn which should make it an automatic deal breaker, but honestly...it's great. witty and smart as all get out. not to mention, kristen bell rocks the casbah.

lost...another jj abrams masterpiece. not quite alias or felicity but definitely jj. i always think i know what's coming next. turns out i'm usually wrong. plus charlie salinger finally got rid of his pesky siblings, became a doc, and grew up all sorts of hot. score!

24...i haven't watched any of the past seasons (i know, i know) but this one has me hooked. you can't really go wrong with a storyline that consists of gov. agents gone druggy gone good and immigrants gone terrorists gone, well, bad. talk about riveting.

er...this old classic is still going strong. well in our humble opinion at least. not to mention that i'd be happy to play doctor with eion bailey any day of the week.

desperate housewives...i'm not sure why i like this show. maybe it's the abnormally thin and beautiful women (i somehow doubt that). maybe it's the abnormally hot neighbor man (most likely), or perhaps it's the murder and affairs. but personally, i think it's lines like "rex cries after he ejaculates" that are the real kicker.

las vegas...corn and cheese, but you gotta love it. hot men, hot women, and vegas baby vegas. not to mention that my bro claims vanessa marcil is the most concentrated amount of latin heat on tv. i don't really know what that means, but the same goes for tad hamilton.

so yeah, do yourself a favor, take my advice, and start watching some must see tv.

música para los lovers...

alright, fine. i give up. it's vday....lets talk love.

this was not nearly as easy to narrow down as i thought it would be. but i did it. so here they are...my top 10 favorite love songs...

10. be mine- david gray
9. power of two- indigo girls
8. such great heights- postal service
7. not fire, not ice- ben harper
5. wild horses- the rolling stones
6. by your side- sade
4. just the way you are- billy joel
3. right in time- lucinda williams
2. two step- dave matthews
1. i'll be your lover too- van morrison

and now, b/c leaving it at that wouldn't be very me...here are my 10 favorite cheesy love songs...and yes i do know the words to them all...

10. nobody knows- tony rich project
9. i think we're alone now-tiffany (i can sing along and i have a hand movement/dance thing for this one)
8. to love somebody- the beegees
7. hello- lionel richie
6. everytime i close my eyes- babyface (and yes, i did receive this single, in cassette form, from a boyfriend)
5. always- bon jovi
4. when a man loves a woman- michael bolton
3. right here waiting- richard marx
2. everything i do i do it for you- bryan adams
1. glory of love- peter cetera (ralph macchio and elizabeth shue...now that was love...sharp cheddar style!)

please feel free to agree, disagree, or give us a few of your own.

oh and p.s. i hope everyone had a great day. full of love, laughter, pink doilies and plenty of cheese.

this day in history...

to me valentine's day is just another day. i'm not jaded or biter. i just don't really ever celebrate it. to prove my point here is a quick review of some valentine's gone by...

2004...ted comes to visit me from colorado. drinks and entire bottle of scotch and proceeds to pass out on my lap by 10pm.

2002...the girls plan a night of dinner and drinking. dinner reservations were at 730, i had to work until 7, which means i had 10 minutes to get ready. in the nearest dorm bathroom. which just so happened to smell completely like vomit.

2000...eddie informs me his "ex-girlfriend" is going to be moving down from canada and living with him. because she was having "family problems". family problems my arse*. wench* stole my man! well i guess technically he was hers first, but whatever!

*i know these words don't flow nearly as well as real swear words, but i'm trying to salvage my lenten vow any way i can.

1997...flowers and candy from the long-distance boyfriend. and a surprise visit. what a sweetheart. too bad i was never attracted to him enough to wanna make out with him. poor guy.

1993...move to colorado from michigan. that's how i've always dreamt of spending a holiday. moving from the only home you've known to arrive in a place where your only friends are your siblings and you're ostracized for having a midwestern twang.

1990...i have no idea what happened this year, but i assume there were big paper hearts, doilies and all sorts of candy involved. what else is there when you're 9?

1984...mark rosier takes my sister behind the bushes to play a game of "i'll show you mine if you show me yours." i bust them. and tell my mom.

ok i don't know if that last one was actually on valentine's day, but mark did take my sister behind the bushes and i did run and tell mom. i was so that annoying little sister.

weekend update...

a few highlights from my extremely long weekend. these are all in addition to drinking an entire bottle of wine, by myself, on friday. working early saturday morning. and having to drive so much i used up an entire tank of gas (and no i don't have an suv). this weekend, be glad you weren't me.

saturday...
white wedding...white trash that is. complete with family bickering, faded disney tattoos, and chain smoking.

shortest ceremony ever...dude, i gotta start going to non catholic weddings more often. i'm use to at least and hour. usually more. this one took 10 minutes. yeah you heard me. and that includes the time it took the wedding party to take there places and to walk out of the joint. i think the preacher just wanted to get away from all the classy guests and their screaming crack babies.

dinner and dancing...by dinner i mean cocktail wienies and chicken wings. and by dancing i mean an eight year old getting cash from her parents for going out and doing a booty dance. apparently in the back woods of illinois they start stripper training at a young age.

music...all country, all the time. at first they couldn't even get the stereo system to work, but they did finally. until about halfway thru the first song. which is also known as the bride and groom dance. the bride was reeeeally happy about that one. they fixed the situation by bringing in an boom box. because god forbid we not have music for the prepubescent-brittany-wannabe to booty shake to.

men...dirty, creepy, redneck men. there were a couple that just dropped lewd comments my way and one who tried to cop a feel, but for the most part they left me alone. well except the bride's brother. that man just couldn't take a hint. i seriously don't know how i managed to keep him from humping my leg. i'm thinking the only reason he didn't was b/c his teenage daughters were there.

cash bar...so basically what you're saying is that in order to save myself from complete and utter misery, i will have to dish out copious amounts of money? suh-weet!

sunday...
oxiclean...yeah you know the stuff. the stain remover on those infomercials. well i'm here to tell you it really works. no seriously. i'm not getting paid to say this. my lab coat had all sorts of ink and chemical and paint stains that i was freaking out about b/c how the heck was i gonna get them out. i tried practically ever stain remover known to man. and then there was oxiclean.

late arrival...we would have been on time for the movie had we not gotten stuck behind the "short bus." we figured we'd be able to break free once we turned onto the street that leads only to the theater. turns out whoever was on the short bus was in the mood for a movie also. once we finally made it inside, i ran to the bathroom. only to get stuck behind a woman walking at a snail's pace. my guess is she was the one on that bus.

wheezy magee...about halfway through the movie a large man makes his way slowly across the front of the theater. only to sqeeze in right behind us. so close it literally felt like he was breathing down our necks. and then there was the heavy breathing. it was louder than the respirator on the movie. and that was in surround sound. i swear the man was huffing and puffing so loud i thought he was gonna blow the house down. get an inhaler, man.

road rage...i'm pretty much perma-annoyed with stl drivers. they are even worse in rain or snow. and today was no exception. so while driving home this old jalopy cut me off. and so, of course, my natural response was to flick him off. what? don't act like you wouldn't have done the same thing. i, however, made the mistake of looking at the car as i "waved hello." and isn't it just my luck to look and see the eyes of four small children peering straight back at me. yeah. that's me. scarring the youth of america since 1980.

life in the fast lane...

so here's my plan...it's 7 pm now...that means if i open a bottle of wine and pop in a movie within the next half hour, i should be passed out by say 9 or 930 at the latest. if i don't have to get up until 8...then that's, what, 11 hours of sleep? awesome!

drooling banjos...

i think i drool in my sleep. i don't normally have a drooling problem. maybe once in a while if i'm concentrating really hard on something or if i'm in, say, a cheese shop. but for the most part, not so much.

this face stuff i use has peroxide in it. and basically if my face isn't completely dry and i put it on something then it'll bleach the fabric. i'm very cautious of this fact. but when i woke up this morning my pillow case had a bleached spot on it. almost a perfect circle. right where a mouth would be if you were laying on your side. nocturnal drooling seems to be the only logical explaination.

religion, love, and imaginary sex...

yes, it did take me a whopping 15 minutes to break my lenten vow of not swearing. 30 minutes to scratch my forehead and turn the cross into a big black smug of ash. and 2 hours to change "i'm giving up candy and sweets" to "i'm just gonna give up chocolate, so can i have some smarties now, please?"

i'm off to a great start.

being the good catholic girl i am i think it's only fair that i address the saintly holiday that approaches. what day is that? st. valentine's day of course. i had a whole shpeal planned. i was going to delve head first into solving the burning question of "what the heck is up with st. valentine anyway?" does anyone even know what he did, let alone what he did to deserve a day of candy hearts and doilies? no really. what makes him so special? (not special as in "eats paste", but special as in "hey you know who deserves a day? why, st. valentine of course.") but anon. midwest girl beat me to it . and i must say, she did a much better job then i think i ever could have.

since we have no real idea what the point of v-day is (besides spending copious amounts of money on candy, flowers, and hookers) i thought it might be fun to do things a little differently. instead of recognizing those we love in real life, we shall recognize those we love in our happy little worlds of pure imagination.

welcome to my world.

the top five celebrities i automatically get to make sweet sweet love to...

1. ed burns
2. carter oosterhouse
3. johnny depp
4. scott speedman
5. ryan reynolds

disclaimer...though i'm sure these men are fantabulous in their own right, this list is based entirely on sex appeal. just in case you wondered.

don't even try to act like you don't have a list of your own. if you don't i highly recommend coming up with one. the research and thought process alone are well worth it.

of course, don't forget to recognize your real life loved ones. on vday, sure, but more importantly just whenever you think about it. don't wait for a day. tell the people you love that you love them. it's not about the grand gestures. the "valentine's celebrations." it's about the holding hands. the hugs. the kisses. the laughter.

and of course the imaginary monkey sex with celebrities.

conversation piece...

mom: so what are you giving up for lent?
sara: neto and i are going to try and give up swearing. and i'm going to give up candy and sweets too.
mom: i think you guys should give up being single.

help wanted...

alright so here's the dilly, yo (did i really just say that?). i'm broke. my brother's office is in need of a few extra hands. therefore, henceforth, i am assisting them around the office. a large reason i'm doing this is because i'm broke. another reason is because i wanna beef up the desk job side of my resume. plus i'm broke.

so here's where you crazy kids come in...i need a hardcore job title to put on said resume. i'm not going to be doing anything of real substance. entering enrollment forms into a computer, and other equally exciting health care consulting busy work. so you can see where i might need to get a little creative with the job title. we gotta come up with something that makes me sound reeeally cool.

let's start those wheels a turnin' folks...

1,2,3 brainstorm!

bred for my skills in magic...

you are a liger!


which napoleon dynamite character are you?
brought to you by quizilla

kickin' ass and takin' names...

dear anonymous ad boy,

i'd really appreciate if you didn't put your ipod advertisements on my blog. the last thing this place needs is some jackass trying to be all sly like and sneak an ad link into my comments section.

post another one and i have no qualms about laying the smack down on your candy ass.

yeah, you heard me.

sincerely,
the management

homewrecker...

ways for me to steal tom brady away from bridget moynahan...

write him a song: no i can't sing. no i can't play an instrument. but you always hear about some dude writing some chick a lame ass song and like that (i know you couldn't hear it, but i just snapped) he's in her pants. you never hear anything about him singing the song. or playing the song on an instrument of any sort. why should the standards be any different for a girl writing to a boy? and why in the world would you ever think that it might not work? men love sappy songs. bryan adams, rod stewart, sting...all for love...don't even try to act like you didn't know all the words.

draw him a picture: my box of 64 crayons even has a sharpener on the back. that way, i can spend at least 3 hours shading his upper lip and my crayons will never dull. it'll prolly be the best drawing i've ever done.

bake him cookies: every guy loves cookies. and bridget is a big movie star (bor-ing!) so i'm sure she can't bake to save her life. i could even make them heart shape. i bet he'd love that.

make out with a teammate: ya know, to be closer to him. what?! it's a completely normal idea. i'm thinking adam vinatieri. it was a toss up whether i'd be trying to steal him away from his chica or tom from b.m. (i'd just like to draw attention to her initials, butt i'll leave it alone)...i opted for tom b/c adam is married and well...girlfriends are never a problem-wives are. or so i've heard. i also hear hell is reeeeally hot.

write him a letter: i always say when something isn't to your liking you do one of two things...eat cheese (cure to any and all ailments...except lactose intolerance, but we'll just ignore that) or write a letter. and well honestly, tom being with bridget isn't so much to my liking. therefore. i shall write a letter. and eat some cheese.

workout more: alright so the plan on this one is to do more squats. really strengthen up my rump. then, try out for the team as a "tight end." (plus after eating all that cheese, a little extra time in the gym couldn't hurt)

two words...water girl: i'm telling you man, i could just sub in some vodka for the H2O. he'd be drunk and on me...uh, i mean, on the sidelines...in no time at all. so what if vodka doesn't taste anything like water. it looks the same. details, people. details!

find bridget a new man: i'm thinking my brother (dude, you can thank me later). oh wait, but then that might be kind of weird. ya know, over the holidays. anyone else want her? hmm...alright, well then i guess i could sign her up for one of those online dating services. i hear they're all the rage.

invite him to a party: in my pants!


so that's all i've got for now...i'll let you know if i think of any more. or if any of these work.

how's yer burger...

24-21

boomshakalaka!

men i've known...

so as i watched the green hornet and batman duke it out, i started thinking about guys in my life. past and present. my aidan, my big. and everyone in between.

here are a few you may also know...

but he's got a great personality guy: you want to be attracted to him. really you do. but you're not. and that's putting it mildly. he's funny and smart and thinks the world of you. but you don't so much wanna attend any parties in his pants. you even drink extra when you're around him and lecture yourself about the beauty within. but when he stops calling you become jealous. afterall, you were suppose to dump him. now he's attractive.

it's not you it's me guy: he can't commit to you (or a relationship or a job with a desk). he's tried but just can't. but why not? you get along great when you're not fighting about how he can't commit. and what's he doing with all his precious time that he can't spend it with you? but just as you're cursing his name, he calls for a date and you love him again.

pseudo boyfriend guy: you're just friends. really you are. best friends even. he gets you, you get him. there's never a dull moment. you may have even given the making out thing a try a time or 2. but you always end up back at being just friends. everyone thinks he's your boyfriend though. it may be b/c you finish each other's sentences and hold hands.

couldn't be nicer guy: he's thoughtful. he's attentive. and he'd do anything for you. he's so nice. so nice that he's too nice. your mom says "but he's so nice, why don't you like him?" you don't know why. probably because there's no drama. he's always there. waiting. even after you tell him about "other" guys. he never gets mad. he just wants to hold you. nice. boring. you'd rather spend your time being ignored by someone you really like. but mom likes him. maybe mom should date him.

living for tonight guy: he's the life of the party. he's hip. he's looking good. he can really hold his liquor. he can go to work everyday on two hours sleep. so what if you have no idea what he's really like since you only see him at parties, or clubs, or bars with no name outside. and then you can never really talk to him because his cell phone comes first. but he's a great dresser. and he knows everyone and the best places to go. how convenient. now you can get right in by dropping his name. how cool. too bad you won't be able to stay friends with him after you stage an intervention and he blames you.

physically active sports guy: his world revolves around sports. but he's no couch potato sports fan. his body is a machine. naturally you feel the need to step up your exercise regime. since every time you see him he's just come home from a trek around the globe or some equally impressive workout and asks about yours. if he's not sweating, he's not happy. it's so exciting that he wants you to push yourself just as hard. it's so exciting it makes you want to go for a walk. or eat yourself into a bag of chips while watching reruns.

not so ex ex guy: he's the ex that keeps on giving. lovin', that is. he's always around when you go out because you have the same friends. and he still looks cute in all the clothes you bought him. afterall, you taught him how to dress. then you reminisce about how comfortable it was. he knew where to get your favorite take-out. and holidays were spent together with each others families. now you're both free to date other people. soon you forget why you broke up in the first place and decide to get back together. then you remember. and break up again.

really kinda regular guy: he eats cereal. he loves to grill. and he still hangs out with the same friends he's had since forever. when they're together it's all sports, work, and highway directions. and he's easy going. he really enjoys playing with dogs and kids. he hates to go shopping. but he's sweet. he swears he got the victoria's secret catalog for you. and he prefers being in a relationship. but doesn't feel the need to rush into things. or even talk about them, since he likes things just the way they are. because he likes having relationship talks about as much as he likes cats.

friend with benefits guy: you're friends. nothing more. well, unless you've been out drinking and having so much friendly fun that you end up back at his place. it's never awkward though. well sometimes it is. for like a day. and then you're back to just being friends. you don't talk about what happened. you tell yourself it just made you closer friends. such good friends that you make plans to go out and have some friendly fun like you use to. so much friendly fun that he ends up back at your place. it's never awkward though. well sometimes it is. for like a day. and then....

cost-benefit analysis...

ya know, i complain about it costing too much to service my car (and it does), but when it's all said and done i must admit, she sure is purty when she's all fixed up and happy.

almost makes the loss of a couple limbs and my first born child worth it.

almost.

note to self...

it's no good pretending that any relationship has a future if your record collections disagree violently or if your favorite films wouldn't even speak to each other if they met at a party.

[courtesy of high fidelity by nick hornby]

can you hear the people sing...

i've listened to the songs of les miserables for as long as i can remember. i can sing along to almost every song. not quite as well as my bro and damien, but we won't go there...

even though i know the music and the story, and even though neto performed quite the rendition of "one day more" for me over lunch (he definitely gave new meaning to the term "one man band"). i have to say that there is absolutely, hands-down, nothing like actually seeing the play, in all it's glory.

thanks titi.

rant of the day...

so you take your car in cuz it's making this really annoying, somewhat embarrassing (in that "you might be a redneck if..." kind of way) noise. turns out your power steering fluid just needed to be flushed. oh and that you have all sorts of things here and there that really should be done. ya know, to save yourself from future, bigger, problems. alright people. so not fair. you know i'm a bit of a push over. you know i can't just take my car in and say ok, thanks, i'll bring it back later (when really i'm just going to take it to a non-dealership service place and have them fix it for me). you also know i want to get the things like my light cover fixed before getting my cv boots replaced. b/c hello...no one sees the cv boots. i don't care how worn or split those are. they aren't on the outside of the car! ( wow! that was a reeeally girly comment)

boo-hiss.

so i have to pick and choose. not everyone has money trees in their backyards. or in their pants. only lizzie has those. (holla!)

so now comes the moola-factor. parts: 50 cents. labor: your unborn child. oh and your soul.

are you kidding me?!

i'm sorry, but any job where the people are called "grease monkeys" and can be represented by john travolta and his ghey buddies in leotards dancing around singing a song called "grease lightning" does not deserve my money. how in the world do mechanics get paid so much? i mean seriously people. what the hell is this "labor" you're talking about? sure it takes time and effort to fix a girl's cv boots, but no way is it worth freakin-a-hundred-bucks/hr, man! (ok, so it's prolly more like 65...but come on!!)

what was i thinking back in high school when i decided to graduate rather than drop out, get my g.e.d. and head to mechanics 'r us for a seminar called 'how to rob people blind by fixing their car b/c they're too lazy to learn how to do it themselves."

here's what i'm thinking... since men (and the occassional woman) get paid so much for so called "labor" then women (sorry men you're s.o.l. on this one) should get paid for the "labor" they go through after nine months of carrying a freakin' watermelon in their poonchacas.

i'm just sayin'.

i don't swim in your toilet, so please don't pee in my pool...

you know how you go into a public restroom, and the integrity of every stall has been compromised, so you have to pick the least disgusting one? that's how i feel about dating.

dirty soap...

so i'm washing my hands and the bar of soap literally jumps out of my hands. ya know, like in the cartoons where the cat goes to grab the fish and it just sort squirts (that word is so wrong...kinda like moist. it just. eww.) out of the cats paws. maybe i just made that up. don't really know. but you get the idea.

so the soap squirts (i really need a thesaurus) out of my hands and after bouncing on the counter and the back of the toilet, lands with a splash in the toilet bowl.

so now here's the dilema...how exactly do you clean soap? i mean normally, if you drop something in the toilet you wash it. unless it's like a toothbrush or hairbrush or any sort of brush really. then you should just throw it out. unless it's a toilet bowl brush. that's a different story. but anyway, if you drop something in a toilet you wash it with soap. but what's the protocol when it's the soap that goes for a swim in the kiddie pool?

it's good soap. aveda. come on, that shiznit's expensive. (the girls have my back on this one) so, yeah. i don't so much wanna throw it out. and it's not like there was anything in the toilet. so do i just wash it off with hot water? do i get another bar of soap and clean the soap with soap? wait. no. yeah. that's right. i think. there were too many soaps in that sentence. suds...clouding...my...head.

whatever, at least now my toilet water is clean. and maybe, just maybe, when i flush, the stirring action will make the now soapy water into a bit of bubble bath.

or something.

damn nyquil!