Wednesday, May 07, 2008

I'm doing just fine on my own, but thanks.

Today I was invited to a Penetration Webinar.

And I'm all like, woah, Visa, back the hell up.

I'm not that kind of girl.

It is free, but still.

Monday, May 05, 2008

No doubt.

I like how open minded we are in our dreams. We accept everything as real, no matter how far fetched or ridiculous it may be. We don't stop to consider that the beautiful flying monkey couldn't possibly be real, we just enjoy it as it happens. We don't stop running just because vampires don't exist, we know in our hearts that if we stop running we will die.

When I found out that the twins I had aborted had survived and my boyfriend's mom (who performed the abortion) was raising them as her own I didn't stop to consider how exactly a four month old fetus could survive, I just knew I wanted my children back. And when that big ghost man was playing his music box to lure children out of their rooms so he could steal them I didn't say to myself "that's not possible", no. I crawled into bed with my son to make sure he didn't go outside. But when I woke up from that dream, convinced I had just heard that same song, I talked myself out of actually getting into bed with him because that would be crazy.

After I went to check on him and make sure he was still in his bed, of course.

Sunday, May 04, 2008

Made me laugh.



Thursday, April 24, 2008

Revisiting personalized license plates.

You know how here in California you can put a symbol on your license plate? You can chose from a hand, a star, and a heart. Well, a lot of people (girls, I assume) put their initials and then the heart and then the initials of their husband, to flaunt their love, you know? Like CDH heart MKH, or something like that. I saw one today that said HPY heart TOY, and I'm guessing these people have a last name that starts with Y but it looks like it says happy love toy.

Which is way better.

Sunday, April 20, 2008

Not even Chopsticks.

Listen guys. I hate to be mean, but I have to put my foot down. I'm making a new house rule. If you don't know how to play the piano you cannot touch my piano. I know it's tempting. I know it's fun. But don't break the rule. Rule #1 might be Respect (or no TV before school, I'm not sure which) at other people's houses, but here it's going to be If You Don't Know How To Play The Piano You Cannot Touch My Piano. I'm not going to put up a sign or anything, because that would be rude.

Right? That would be rude?

Damn. I thought so.

Ok, no sign. But I am going to leave the piano closed from now on. It's not because I don't trust you guys, it's because...well...ok, I don't trust you guys. No offense. But it really, really grates my nerves to hear someone almost playing Heart And Soul right, but not quite.

Can we also agree that knowing the pattern to Mary Had A Little Lamb, but not knowing which key to start with does not constitute knowing how to play the piano?

Thanks.

Wednesday, April 16, 2008

Tick-tock, Fatty.

So, I'm cleaning out the litter box and the phone rings. I go answer it and two minutes later when I get back to the bathroom my fucking cat is shitting in the half-cleaned litter box. I told her "You're an asshole, Fatty" but did she care? No. It's bad enough that I have to go sifting through the litter for her shit, now I have to pick it up still warm from her furry little ass. Oh, and don't worry about covering it up, Fatty, oh no, I'll take care of it! You just go eat some more food, fat ass. And please puke this time, spread the love. It smells great.

Isn't she supposed to be dying? When is that happening, again?

Monday, April 14, 2008

Hypothetical question...

How many drinks does it take for you to start thinking that Swedish Fish shots are a good idea?

I will tell you this only because I care about you: The alcohol makes them even harder.







(that's what she said)