My husband keeps trying to get me into playing Warcraft with him and so far I have had good luck avoiding it because it runs like shit on my laptop. I have nothing against the game, its just that I'd like to avoid any more hobbies that might become an obsession. I mean, between school, my art, blogging, stumble upon, and my drinking, I just don't think there is enough time in the day.
Today at lunch he let me know that his plans for St. Patrick's Day included getting drunk and showing me how to play Warcraft while we house-sit for his parents. Another reason I have been avoiding it is because he has a group of people that he always plays with. They chat with their microphones the whole time and I just know that I am gonna sound even stupider on the other end of a microphone than I do on the phone.
Whenever I have to make a call to someplace like school or customer service I secretly hope I will get a recording because I get so nervous talking to a real person. Once they even asked me if there was an adult that they could talk to instead. (ouch) What am I supposed to say, "uh, my husband is here?"
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Good News and Bads News
Lets start with the bad.
Even when I arrive at school early, I get to class late because I have to drive around looking for a parking space for half hour, then give up and park in the back of the 'rape lot' and walk a quarter mile to the class room.
The good?
I am getting tons of exercise. And probably some pepper spray soon. Fun.
Even when I arrive at school early, I get to class late because I have to drive around looking for a parking space for half hour, then give up and park in the back of the 'rape lot' and walk a quarter mile to the class room.
The good?
I am getting tons of exercise. And probably some pepper spray soon. Fun.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Last Night
My dad somehow fit 3 pieces of left over pizza in one ziplock sandwich bag. I watched him do it and it still makes no sense to me. When I woke up this morning, I had to check the fridge to make sure it wasn't a dream.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Proof
I stumbled upon this game a few days ago and posted the link with my Cat Barbershop post. I love this game because its so simple, yet addicting (like many other things in life; thumb-twiddling, Doritos, black tar heroin). After playing at least 100 times I was convinced that the cat always wins, but this morning the impossible happened. You are looking at a screen shot of proof that I outsmarted a virtual cat, 'beat the computer' if you will. In other words I pretty much did battle and won against a cyborg cat, and that's how this story will be told from now on.*Cue Queen's We Are The Champions
UPDATE: We had a rematch this afternoon and I won again. This time I clicked every spare dot just to watch the cat run frantically around her little corral as it got smaller and smaller. Muaaah ha haaaa!
Sunday Morning Confessional - Ugly Sweaters and Sushi
I have something to confess. For the last 8 years or so I have only been going to church on Christmas for one reason: to continue the tradition of the ugly sweater contest.
This is a game I play with myself by giving each one I see a ranking in my head. Every now and then I whisper out loud,"we have a winner". Over the years it had grown more complex, with a womens' division, mens' division, childrens' division, elderly division, and best of show. During the sermon I imagine the finalists jogging in a circle, like a dog show. Then, striking their best pose, and I go and pin a giant blue ribbon on the winner. It keeps me from going crazy from listening to each one of the pastor's daughters sing their own version of Silent Night.
But, last year there was a break in tradition, perhaps a new tradition was born. My mom was sick and stayed home so she didn't get everyone else sick, and my dad stayed with her because it was the perfect excuse for him to get out if it. So, it was just my brother and I driving down to my aunt's house. They told us to leave in time to get there by noon so we could all go to church together.
And we did, but we decided to take the 3 hour drive nice and slow. Our plan was to tell them that traffic was really bad and we just couldn't make it in time for church. But, for some reason, even when I have time to kill, I just can't help but to try and make good time. We ended up getting into town early, not late, or even on time. So, what do you do when you have 45 minuted to kill in San Diego?
That was easy, I knew my way around town, so we went to Sushi first at my favorite place. Then, we went walking around the antique stores looking for treasures and just goofing around. And just to be sure we had killed enough time we checked out this awesome reptile store.
New Christmas tradition? I think so.
This is a game I play with myself by giving each one I see a ranking in my head. Every now and then I whisper out loud,"we have a winner". Over the years it had grown more complex, with a womens' division, mens' division, childrens' division, elderly division, and best of show. During the sermon I imagine the finalists jogging in a circle, like a dog show. Then, striking their best pose, and I go and pin a giant blue ribbon on the winner. It keeps me from going crazy from listening to each one of the pastor's daughters sing their own version of Silent Night.
But, last year there was a break in tradition, perhaps a new tradition was born. My mom was sick and stayed home so she didn't get everyone else sick, and my dad stayed with her because it was the perfect excuse for him to get out if it. So, it was just my brother and I driving down to my aunt's house. They told us to leave in time to get there by noon so we could all go to church together.
And we did, but we decided to take the 3 hour drive nice and slow. Our plan was to tell them that traffic was really bad and we just couldn't make it in time for church. But, for some reason, even when I have time to kill, I just can't help but to try and make good time. We ended up getting into town early, not late, or even on time. So, what do you do when you have 45 minuted to kill in San Diego?
That was easy, I knew my way around town, so we went to Sushi first at my favorite place. Then, we went walking around the antique stores looking for treasures and just goofing around. And just to be sure we had killed enough time we checked out this awesome reptile store.
New Christmas tradition? I think so.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
It Always Sneeks Up On Me
I have a way of always disappointing my mother, even in the smallest way.
Just now:
Mom: What are you making for lunch?
Me: Half a bagel. If you want the other ha-
Mom: Oh sure, thanks!
Me: ...it's in the cupboard.
Just now:
Mom: What are you making for lunch?
Me: Half a bagel. If you want the other ha-
Mom: Oh sure, thanks!
Me: ...it's in the cupboard.
Like a Crack Whore Loves Crack
On the first day of class one of my teachers had us get into small groups and share a few things about ourselves. He wanted us to say our name, why we are taking the class, and one thing that most people don't know about us. Then he wanted one person from each group to get up in front of the class and introduce the other people.
I had three guys in my group (sausage-fest, i know). There was Tyler, a graphic design major (all but two people in this class are graphic design majors *yawn*) who is into extreme sports. Josh, another graphic design major. And Robert, who "likes art n' stuff, ya know" "loves chicken like a crack whore loves crack," and said that one thing most people don't know is that he is humble.
Robert volunteered to be the one who introduces us to the class. While working his way through the introductions, and practically shouting at the class, he made a freudian slip and declared, "an somethin' nobody likes about Josh, is that he loves to cook."
Oh, god! I laughed out loud, probably harder than I should have, but most of it was pent up from his comment about how much he loves chicken. Only about half the class heard it, kind of disappointing.
I had three guys in my group (sausage-fest, i know). There was Tyler, a graphic design major (all but two people in this class are graphic design majors *yawn*) who is into extreme sports. Josh, another graphic design major. And Robert, who "likes art n' stuff, ya know" "loves chicken like a crack whore loves crack," and said that one thing most people don't know is that he is humble.
Robert volunteered to be the one who introduces us to the class. While working his way through the introductions, and practically shouting at the class, he made a freudian slip and declared, "an somethin' nobody likes about Josh, is that he loves to cook."
Oh, god! I laughed out loud, probably harder than I should have, but most of it was pent up from his comment about how much he loves chicken. Only about half the class heard it, kind of disappointing.
Friday, February 20, 2009
Things That Make My Day
(an ongoing list)
Car chases
Drawings by children
Seeing someone shoplifting
Homemade french toast
Stuffed animals
Unexpected sushi lunches
Eavesdropping
Car chases
Drawings by children
Seeing someone shoplifting
Homemade french toast
Stuffed animals
Unexpected sushi lunches
Eavesdropping
Anything But Helpful
Two weeks ago I had an appointment with the academic counselor at school to help me figure out what classes I need to take to get my degree. Five minutes into the appointment he tried to send me away to make an appointment with the transfer counselor even though I told him I wanted to get my A.A. before I transfer anywhere. Dick.
I ended up making that appointment with the transfer counselor, who didn't have any openings for two weeks. With that long of a wait he must be a helpful guy, right? So I waited and yesterday I went over there. I was 3 minuted early for my appointment because there is usually paperwork to fill out. The receptionist is an overly-cheerful, kooky lady whose fashion sense involves a goldfish themed ensemble, including matching necklace, earrings, and shoes. I filled out the required paperwork and waited, and waited and waited. 15 minutes after my half hour meeting was supposed to start he finally decided to see me.
I could tell right away that this guy was weird but the life-sized cardboard cutout of himself in his office told me for sure. I tried to get through the rest of the appointment without anything to awkward happening, but about 5 minutes into my spiel about my career goals he got up and walked behind me to straighten a picture on his wall. I kept talking and two seconds later he got up again because he over-corrected it the first time and had to fix it again.
I should have backed my chair into his groin and left right then, but I don't think strait when I am nervous. The final straw was when he showed me how to google my chosen profession. What an ass.
I ended up making that appointment with the transfer counselor, who didn't have any openings for two weeks. With that long of a wait he must be a helpful guy, right? So I waited and yesterday I went over there. I was 3 minuted early for my appointment because there is usually paperwork to fill out. The receptionist is an overly-cheerful, kooky lady whose fashion sense involves a goldfish themed ensemble, including matching necklace, earrings, and shoes. I filled out the required paperwork and waited, and waited and waited. 15 minutes after my half hour meeting was supposed to start he finally decided to see me.
I could tell right away that this guy was weird but the life-sized cardboard cutout of himself in his office told me for sure. I tried to get through the rest of the appointment without anything to awkward happening, but about 5 minutes into my spiel about my career goals he got up and walked behind me to straighten a picture on his wall. I kept talking and two seconds later he got up again because he over-corrected it the first time and had to fix it again.
I should have backed my chair into his groin and left right then, but I don't think strait when I am nervous. The final straw was when he showed me how to google my chosen profession. What an ass.
Cat Barbershop
A few years ago I decided that I wanted a cat, because I remember how much I liked having one as a kid. My childhood cat, named Flower, sat with you when you were sick and she would race us to the mailbox. But my dad is not a big pet person so when I asked about getting a cat again he made it clear that it was out of the question. I decided that if I did get a cat, I would want it to be a very young kitten so that I could take care of it and it would love me even more because it would think that I was its mother. Right.
So the day my boyfriend's sister found a tiny, black and white kitten in the parking lot at her work I thought it was fate. I was out of school and work at the time so I took care of it, staying up all night to bottle feed it every 3 hours. I even had to teach her how to go to the bathroom (eww) since I guess that is not an instinct that a kitten is born with (why, god, why?).
We named her Tessie, after the Dropkick Murphys song, and as she grew up we noticed that she loved to "play". By play I mean draw blood. I know its normal for kittens to play fight, but Tessie was just plain fighting. She also loves to wait around the corner as you come down the hall and jump 3 feet in the air and kick you in the stomach, or sometimes just wave her arms around and scare you. She is about 3 years old now and she has become a big fat grumpy cat. She hates to be touched and even looked at sometimes. The only person she has ever sat with is my dad, ironically, and she has some sort of contempt for my brother, she cant even stand to be in the same room as him.
It is probably because he said one day, "I wish Tessie was nice like Flower was." And I said, "Yeah but remember all the stuff we did to Flower when we were kids? Like when we played 'cat barbershop' and sprayed her with water and tried to comb all her hair in the wrong direction." (Oh yeah, good times) We decided that a little playing around could loosen Tess up a bit and turn her into a nicer cat later on, so we swung her in a blanket like a giant cat hammock and she has been out to seek her revenge on my brother since.
The sad thing is, when I was taking care of baby Tessie Cat I was thinking, "this is great practice for having kids later on". But now, I have vowed not to bring any children into this world as long as there is a chance that they could turn out as evil as Tessie. It scares me that I see so much of my own personality in her.
I found a game that goes perfect with this post. It is so simple, but addicting. And a T-shirt. Enjoy.
So the day my boyfriend's sister found a tiny, black and white kitten in the parking lot at her work I thought it was fate. I was out of school and work at the time so I took care of it, staying up all night to bottle feed it every 3 hours. I even had to teach her how to go to the bathroom (eww) since I guess that is not an instinct that a kitten is born with (why, god, why?).
We named her Tessie, after the Dropkick Murphys song, and as she grew up we noticed that she loved to "play". By play I mean draw blood. I know its normal for kittens to play fight, but Tessie was just plain fighting. She also loves to wait around the corner as you come down the hall and jump 3 feet in the air and kick you in the stomach, or sometimes just wave her arms around and scare you. She is about 3 years old now and she has become a big fat grumpy cat. She hates to be touched and even looked at sometimes. The only person she has ever sat with is my dad, ironically, and she has some sort of contempt for my brother, she cant even stand to be in the same room as him.
It is probably because he said one day, "I wish Tessie was nice like Flower was." And I said, "Yeah but remember all the stuff we did to Flower when we were kids? Like when we played 'cat barbershop' and sprayed her with water and tried to comb all her hair in the wrong direction." (Oh yeah, good times) We decided that a little playing around could loosen Tess up a bit and turn her into a nicer cat later on, so we swung her in a blanket like a giant cat hammock and she has been out to seek her revenge on my brother since.
The sad thing is, when I was taking care of baby Tessie Cat I was thinking, "this is great practice for having kids later on". But now, I have vowed not to bring any children into this world as long as there is a chance that they could turn out as evil as Tessie. It scares me that I see so much of my own personality in her.
I found a game that goes perfect with this post. It is so simple, but addicting. And a T-shirt. Enjoy.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
The Tycoon
Ok, so I promised that I would tell you about all the weirdos in my classes at school and this guy is by far the number one weirdo. I first noticed him on the first day of class because it was pouring outside and he was wearing a clear plastic cowboy-hat-shaped cover over his cowboy hat. Wow, just wow. This is california by the way, not tex-ass or the south. To make matters worse for this guy he happens to have a lisp and something weird about his wubble-u's. He basically talks like a retarded cartoon character. He is taking engineering classes because he is interested in chemical and nuclear engineering, (shiiit) and I swear to god when the teacher passed around a survey about our career goals he wrote "Tycoon".
To make things even more comical he had a friend who I also gave a nickname: fat sandaled kid. This guy is one dull bulb and wearing shorts and sandals while it was pouring rain/snowing was my first clue. My second was this overheard conversation about our class project where we have to build a box to keep an egg from breaking on a two story fall:
The Tycoon: Now, I wonda, if there might exist an egg that is similar in appearance to a chicken egg, if you will, but with a slightly thicka shell.
Fat Sandaled Kid: like an ostrich egg, maybe...
The Tycoon: Now I don't know if that would be convincin' enough, you see?
The Tycoon: What if we created, or engineered, if you will, our own egg. We could find some strong white material and put some yellow goo inside.
Fat Sandaled Kid: like carve it out of marble or something?
The Tycoon: I recon' that may be a bit on the heavy side. How about thrustas.
Fat Sandaled Kid: yeah...
The Tycoon: The device could use compressed air, not so much that it shoots it up, if you will, but just enough to slow its descent.
Fat Sandaled Kid: i guess
The Tycoon: I'll talk to my friend, who is interviewing at NASA, and see about getting some state of the art materials.
Fat Sandaled Kid: alrighty
The Tycoon: Alrighty indeed.
To make things even more comical he had a friend who I also gave a nickname: fat sandaled kid. This guy is one dull bulb and wearing shorts and sandals while it was pouring rain/snowing was my first clue. My second was this overheard conversation about our class project where we have to build a box to keep an egg from breaking on a two story fall:
The Tycoon: Now, I wonda, if there might exist an egg that is similar in appearance to a chicken egg, if you will, but with a slightly thicka shell.
Fat Sandaled Kid: like an ostrich egg, maybe...
The Tycoon: Now I don't know if that would be convincin' enough, you see?
The Tycoon: What if we created, or engineered, if you will, our own egg. We could find some strong white material and put some yellow goo inside.
Fat Sandaled Kid: like carve it out of marble or something?
The Tycoon: I recon' that may be a bit on the heavy side. How about thrustas.
Fat Sandaled Kid: yeah...
The Tycoon: The device could use compressed air, not so much that it shoots it up, if you will, but just enough to slow its descent.
Fat Sandaled Kid: i guess
The Tycoon: I'll talk to my friend, who is interviewing at NASA, and see about getting some state of the art materials.
Fat Sandaled Kid: alrighty
The Tycoon: Alrighty indeed.
Cats and Dogs
Today I realized that my fear of dogs doesn't make much sense (unlike my fear of monkeys). I have always had this idea in my head that any dog could turn on me at any minute. Which I am now beginning to think is crazy because I have never been attacked by a dog, I have never even met a mean dog. Sure it would suck to get attacked by a dog (or a monkey) but now I think the odds of it actually happening are pretty slim. Not slim enough for me to walk past a dog without changing sides of the street, but I'm getting better, and these things take time damn it.
I realized how silly this fear was today when I thought about the two cats I have. They are two of the meanest most evil cats I have ever met. These furry little bastards love to do sneak attacks on me and make me bleed on a daily basis. Its a good thing that these two don't get along with each other or I would be in real trouble when they decided to gang up on me. I think they are gradually turning me into a dog person.
I realized how silly this fear was today when I thought about the two cats I have. They are two of the meanest most evil cats I have ever met. These furry little bastards love to do sneak attacks on me and make me bleed on a daily basis. Its a good thing that these two don't get along with each other or I would be in real trouble when they decided to gang up on me. I think they are gradually turning me into a dog person.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Like a Sailor
So, you may not be able to tell yet, but I'm a bit pessimistic. One of those glass-half-empty-and-it-smells-funny-too, kind of people. It really boils down to the type of thoughts that go through my head. I can't help it if I think, "oh, for the love of god, I have to empty the dishwasher again" instead of, "yay, clean dishes!"
But on top of all the negative thoughts going through my head, I have a habit of swearing like a sailor, in my head, to myself. I guess it could happen even if I were more optimistic, it would just sound like, "fuck yeah, clean dishes!" But now, I have gotten so used to it that it has started slipping out in everyday conversations.
It started while driving, of course. I get road-rage (sometimes while I'm not even in my car) and I swear and shake my fist at just about everybody who gets in my way. I started shaking my fist at people because it is slightly less offensive than flipping people off, and you can only flip of so many little old ladies before you start to question yourself. Old people tend to understand the fist shake better, instead of looking shocked most of them shake their fist back. At that point it is a challenge to see who can shake harder. I usually win.
I had a job where I worked with kids, so that kept my swearing habit in line for a while. Instead I would say things like "I don't want to have to give you a warning" and "am I going to have to have a talk with your mom." I even got a 'mom voice'. My boyfriend would say, "why is your voice like that" and I would have to remember that even if I did want to give him a warning, I wasn't at work and didn't have to talk like that.
I don't work with kids anymore, which is a good thing because my swearing habit has really gotten out of hand lately. I made up a rule, when I was a kid, that if we (my brother and I) heard our parents say a swear word, that word was fair game for the rest of the day. I have especially fond memories of exploring every variety of the word 'shit' on the way to school after my mom let one slip when she slammed the cats tail in the car door.
My cousins are just getting to the age where appreciate swear words, so my brother and I taught them the rule and we had one of the crudest Christmases yet. It took my youngest cousin a while to get up the courage but when he did the look on my aunts face was priceless, I have a feeling she is going to be more careful about what slips out.
But on top of all the negative thoughts going through my head, I have a habit of swearing like a sailor, in my head, to myself. I guess it could happen even if I were more optimistic, it would just sound like, "fuck yeah, clean dishes!" But now, I have gotten so used to it that it has started slipping out in everyday conversations.
It started while driving, of course. I get road-rage (sometimes while I'm not even in my car) and I swear and shake my fist at just about everybody who gets in my way. I started shaking my fist at people because it is slightly less offensive than flipping people off, and you can only flip of so many little old ladies before you start to question yourself. Old people tend to understand the fist shake better, instead of looking shocked most of them shake their fist back. At that point it is a challenge to see who can shake harder. I usually win.
I had a job where I worked with kids, so that kept my swearing habit in line for a while. Instead I would say things like "I don't want to have to give you a warning" and "am I going to have to have a talk with your mom." I even got a 'mom voice'. My boyfriend would say, "why is your voice like that" and I would have to remember that even if I did want to give him a warning, I wasn't at work and didn't have to talk like that.
I don't work with kids anymore, which is a good thing because my swearing habit has really gotten out of hand lately. I made up a rule, when I was a kid, that if we (my brother and I) heard our parents say a swear word, that word was fair game for the rest of the day. I have especially fond memories of exploring every variety of the word 'shit' on the way to school after my mom let one slip when she slammed the cats tail in the car door.
My cousins are just getting to the age where appreciate swear words, so my brother and I taught them the rule and we had one of the crudest Christmases yet. It took my youngest cousin a while to get up the courage but when he did the look on my aunts face was priceless, I have a feeling she is going to be more careful about what slips out.
Monday, February 16, 2009
Shrimp Cocktail and Slow Dances
One of the things that I hate most in the world is when I am unexpectedly reminded of a random embarrassing moment from my childhood. It can turn any ordinary day into a depressing suck-fest in a matter of seconds. I try not to let these memories wander into the forefront of my mind, but sometimes they just sneak up on me.
This particular repressed memory came back to me when I hugged a friend of my brother. As a general rule I avoid hugs all together, but every now and then I think to myself "sure, why not, normal people hug and I'm normal, right". When I should be thinking "nothing but awkwardness can come from this". So we hugged and a wave of awkward embarrassment came over me like it was eight grade all over again. His tall and "kooshy" frame reminded me of the big guy who asked me to slow dance at a friends 14th birthday party.
I was spending the whole night scarfing down shrimp cocktail and specifically trying not to dance by walking around like I was on my way somewhere important, possibly the bathroom. I lost my focus, stopped moving my feet for two seconds and some big guy from the band zeroed in on me like an injured gazelle separated from the herd.
Just as a slow song began to play he walked right towards me and asked me to dance, I couldn't make any words come out of my mouth so I just went with it. Suddenly I could feel my face burning red, luckily no one could see because he pretty much shaded me from the world. When he finally realized that the geometry of it wasn't working out (picture a watermelon and a toothpick on the dance floor) he actually picked me up and danced me around the room like a rag doll.
I can't even remember the rest of the party because all I could do was think "what the fuck was that about" and "why me?". Looking back I know he was just trying to be nice and make me feel included, but I have never been the kind person who worries that no one will talk to them at a party or ask them to dance. I am just glad when nothing mortifying happens.
This particular repressed memory came back to me when I hugged a friend of my brother. As a general rule I avoid hugs all together, but every now and then I think to myself "sure, why not, normal people hug and I'm normal, right". When I should be thinking "nothing but awkwardness can come from this". So we hugged and a wave of awkward embarrassment came over me like it was eight grade all over again. His tall and "kooshy" frame reminded me of the big guy who asked me to slow dance at a friends 14th birthday party.
I was spending the whole night scarfing down shrimp cocktail and specifically trying not to dance by walking around like I was on my way somewhere important, possibly the bathroom. I lost my focus, stopped moving my feet for two seconds and some big guy from the band zeroed in on me like an injured gazelle separated from the herd.
Just as a slow song began to play he walked right towards me and asked me to dance, I couldn't make any words come out of my mouth so I just went with it. Suddenly I could feel my face burning red, luckily no one could see because he pretty much shaded me from the world. When he finally realized that the geometry of it wasn't working out (picture a watermelon and a toothpick on the dance floor) he actually picked me up and danced me around the room like a rag doll.
I can't even remember the rest of the party because all I could do was think "what the fuck was that about" and "why me?". Looking back I know he was just trying to be nice and make me feel included, but I have never been the kind person who worries that no one will talk to them at a party or ask them to dance. I am just glad when nothing mortifying happens.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Back To School
Back To School
To Prove To Dad That I'm Not A Fool
I've Got My, Luch Packed Up
My Boots Tied Tight
I Hope I Don't Get In A Fight
Back To School
Back To School
It seems that you can only stay unemployed for so long before your parents won't let you and your husband live in their house for free anymore. Whatever.
So I'm going back to school to prove that my life is still moving in the right direction. So far classes are easy-peasy, but there are a few weirdos in each of my classes. I guess that keeps things interesting. Usually its just the 40+ crowd that feel the need to answer all the professors rhetorical questions. But, this time there are a few gems, like 'the tycoon'. More on him later I promise.
To Prove To Dad That I'm Not A Fool
I've Got My, Luch Packed Up
My Boots Tied Tight
I Hope I Don't Get In A Fight
Back To School
Back To School
It seems that you can only stay unemployed for so long before your parents won't let you and your husband live in their house for free anymore. Whatever.
So I'm going back to school to prove that my life is still moving in the right direction. So far classes are easy-peasy, but there are a few weirdos in each of my classes. I guess that keeps things interesting. Usually its just the 40+ crowd that feel the need to answer all the professors rhetorical questions. But, this time there are a few gems, like 'the tycoon'. More on him later I promise.
Let's get this party started
Ok, so I finally decided to start this thing up because too many funny/awkward/embarrassing things happen around me, and I can only share the stories so many times before the people close to me tell me to shut the hell up. So I have a blog now where I can let things out, because when I don't, I end up laughing in my sleep. Seriously.
I don't plan on posting regularly, just as I think of stuff. I usually loose interest in something like this after about two weeks, so we'll see how it goes.
To start off, let me just say that I'm more of an introverted person. It takes me a long time to warm up to people, and I am a terrible judge of character. I guess I am just bad at reading people altogether. It is a closely guarded secret that I have a sense of humor.
I don't plan on posting regularly, just as I think of stuff. I usually loose interest in something like this after about two weeks, so we'll see how it goes.
To start off, let me just say that I'm more of an introverted person. It takes me a long time to warm up to people, and I am a terrible judge of character. I guess I am just bad at reading people altogether. It is a closely guarded secret that I have a sense of humor.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
.jpg)
Posts
