I Don’t Want a Stupid Title

On the way to the bar last night, this guy of questionable ethnicity was sitting next to a van bagging onions.  One onion rolled away toward us, and he asked us to grab it for him.  I said, “Are you serious,” because if one of my onions rolled away from me, I would take it as a sign and let it go.  Anyway, I gave it to him and then he said, “Hold this open,” referring to his sack.  I did so dutifully as he bagged the rest of his onions, and as his wife looked on from inside the van chuckling quietly to herself.  Mind you, it was about eleven pm.  Does this seem weird to anyone else but me?

At LIT there is this totally hot DJ.  He has curly hair (you know how I feel about curly hair) and looks like a mix of George Harrison and Bret McKenzie.  You know how I feel about George and Bret.  I went and talked to him last night and he was super cute up close.  Cuter than I had expected.  I asked him if he has a girlfriend, and he said “No, but I wish I did!”  I think he was lying, but it was still cute.  I am in love.  Will go back and try to get some pics. 

They’re hot, but what do they really do? They just put the song on…

on the time in my life in which i were truly “complete,” i would say, that was when I used to work at PF Changs.  And now i’m going to go and play Russian Roulette very quietly and alone in my bathroom.

life is just a string of bad hair days, with the occasional nervous break down, like every nine years or so.

VanBuggenhout.

someone whose documents i’m reviewing is named “Willy VanBuggenhout.”  I need to find this man and win him over with my rather considerable charms.

by popular demand, this one from May 2006 is back and better than ever!

but first, let me give you the background:  i was on some new medication that made me very nauseous and prone to vomiting.  i was in the car, stuck in traffic (as usual) and i knew i would vomit as soon as i got home.  but i also knew there was no toilet paper (which i like to bring back to bed with me once i’m done - i won’t get into it anymore than that, i don’t know why i’m explaining this in the first place).  i was trying to decide if i should risk stopping off at 7-eleven.  on one hand, i might be able to run in and run out.  but what if there were a line???  i’d be totally screwed.  i actually went through the same problem this past thursday.  i didn’t know i had to hurl until i got on the hour long train to Jersey.  i actually thought about finding a quiet corner of the train station to creep away in and quietly vomit, but luckily, it didn’t come to that.  anyway, without further adew….

Roadside Relief

How come those guys who stand at the freeway exit ramps and in the median of busy streets never sell anything anyone actually needs?

No wonder no one ever stops.  Because people are never in gridlock during rush hour trying to figure out what to make for dinner, when they see one of those guys standing on the side of the road, instantly reminding them what they realize they forgot to pick up at the grocery store:  long stemmed red roses!  or was it a bag or oranges?!

See, I fully believe those vendors could easily increase their profits exponentially if they just asked themselves this one question:  what’s the one thing a person rushing to get home might actually need to buy, because TIME IS OF THE ESSENCE.

The answer is simple people!  TOILET PAPER!

Because I don’t know how many times I’ve noticed I’m all out of toilet paper before I left the house at the beginning of the day, and on my way home, needed the facilities in a most urgent way.  I’ll be sitting in traffic, thinking:  “I could stop at 7-11!” ”Idiot!”  my inner monologue replies, “There’s no time for that!”  Left with no real alternatives, you find yourself having to make the kinds of decisions no man should ever have to make, just to arrive home in time for a photo finish (that analogy really doesn’t apply to this situation, but I like it because of the imagery it inspires…that is a man crouching by my toilet with a polaroid).

So, if in a few weeks I start to see guys by the side of the freeway peddling Charmin, you can tell everyone you know, that you knew me when I was just a girl with irritable bowel syndrome and a dream.

that i need someone to talk to.  i’m reading back these blogs, and it occurs to me i have no friends.  i haven’t spoken to a human being in days. the only time i interface with people is on the train, and even then, i’ve merely taken to communicating via grunts and gestures.  i’m *this close* to flinging dung at someone, and all i know is, there’s a loaded cat box just waiting to be raided, and i’m just bored enough to do it.  probably not the best way to make friends though.

everyone has one.  this girl at work apparently has one concerning our vending machine guy.  she left a rather scathing note on it today that said she wants a refund for the money she put in, intending to get a candy treat for herself, had it not gotten stuck in the machine.  she expects him to bring it ’round her desk when he comes to service the machine tomorrow.  is it just me, or is she blowing this whole thing out of proportion?  anyway, i didn’t want to be the one to tell her….

but it all reminds me of those vending machines you sometimes see where you can buy ipods and stuff.  there’s a reason vending machines only vend items of modest value.  if she’s demanding her $.70 back, via scathing notes taped to glass and metal over a Twix bar, imagine what she’d do if it were something worth a couple hundred bucks!  i don’t want to live to see the day!

okay, that was really lame.  i’m having a lame week. 

are strange. they have the texture and slight flavor of a watermelon, which, in my opinion is the most disappointing of melons (don’t get too excited over there, honeydew, i’m not exactly thrilled with you either).  i think the moral of the story is, i don’t like melon.  you know when you get that fruit cup, and it’s 90% melon assortment?  God, i hate that.  They should warn you…