WTF?

From yahoo.com...

Okay, so I can understand #1 & #4. I have no idea who #3 is, so I can't really dispute whether it belongs in this list or not... But "cheerleading injuries" is the second most popular search? Are you kidding me? What just happened in our world that would make millions of people need to search for that phrase?

And really? That many people are searching for information about Paul Bunyan?

WTF people?

Take it from me, whatever you do, do not search for "The Hurt Locker."*

*I know you. You totally just searched for it...didn't you?? (sigh) And to think, I was starting to trust you.

Also, just so you know, I didn't actually spot this gem of a search list. A guy that I went out on a date with this past weekend sent me a screen shot of his yahoo page knowing that I would think it was funny. See? He gets it. Oh, and because I know you want the details, I'll tell you a bit about him: he is very funny, polite, thoughtful, cute, and probably a complete homicidal maniac.

The first rule of myspace...

Remember a couple of years ago when Michael Jackson, Farrah Fawcett, Ed McMahon, and Billy Mays were alive?

Well then perhaps you'll remember that around that time myspace was all the rage. I realized around that time, two very important things:
1) keeping in contact en masse via a networking site was much easier than trying to keep up with every person I wanted to, and
2) that Diet Dr. Pepper really does taste more like regular Dr. Pepper.

At any rate, I used to really enjoy myspace - in fact, it's through myspace that I started blogging. So see? You can thank "Tom" for your undoubtedly diminishing intelligence due to reading my blog. Or for the mental images like ones found here.

So since I blog here and now get my networking site fix via Facebook, I'm not on myspace anymore.

UNTIL....

My younger sister emailed me asking me why I had sent her an email via myspace to click on a link. Now, I love my younger sister. She's one of my favorite people in the world - loving, sweet, kind, and thoughtful...so you know, nothing like me. One of my favorite things about her is that she trusts people. She'd give you the shirt off her back if she felt like it would help you. Because of that, she's also the perfect choice for any spammers and identity theft hackers. She still forwards emails thinking that Bill Gates is giving away a million dollars and has probably thought about baking those famous Neiman Marcus cookies. So when she clicked on the email that "I" had sent her and got a virus, she was concerned. Go figure.

LONG story short (too late), it turns out that someone named Willa Redmond wants to be me so badly*, that she copied my whole myspace profile (including pictures) so that it is an exact replica of my profile. I know what you're thinking...and I felt as shocked and flattered violated as you'd be if it happened to you.

So I contacted myspace "security" and it turns out that all I need to do is to hand write some sort of sign that has my name, my myspace URL, AND my face so that they can verify that I am the original person. It's called the stupidest fake security measure a "salute." I would've posted their instructions, but they were verbose and obviously written by someone where English is their 5th language.

(sigh)

But you know me/Willa. I somehow want the picture to be funny. Like, should I take one where it looks like I'm in jail and it's a mugshot? Or should I use my little blogger id with my info underneath it? I don't want to do something boring...I want it to be funny. Because God forbid the people from Taiwan who are managing myspace security not think that I'm funny. Any suggestions on how/where the picture could or should be taken would be much appreciated.

It has occured to me that you're probably wondering if this post was written by Willa or me. And I guess I really don't have any way to prove that I am not Willa Redmond. So let's just say that all the awesome and funny posts are by me...and the ones that kind of suck? Yeah, they're totally written by Willa.

Hell, I could be Tyler Durden of myspace for all you know...



*Yes, I know. She doesn't really want to be me. She wants to send you links to porn sites. Which, may or may not be something that I want to do too. It's just that it feels more flattering to say that she wanted to be me than to say that my profile was the first one that was lame enough to be easily copied.

Have I got a deal for you!!

In this tough economy, I think everyone is looking for ways to save money. If you need money, it's hard to know where to turn for help. Well, I am here to help you - never you fear! I received this very important email today:

From: nicholas reeg (nicholas.reeg@my.wci.edu)

"Greetings:
I am Mrs. Joy Adams a aprivate loan lender, I am willing to lend out loans with the interest rate of 3%, I offer loan to all categories of people ,firms, companies, all kinds of business organizations, private individuals and real estate investors with the minimum amount of $10,000.00 USD to $1,000,000,000 USD, I give out loans at very cheap and moderate rates. I am a certified, register and legit lender. You can contact me immediately if you are interested in getting a loan,contact me for more information about the loan process,process like the loan terms and conditions and how the loan will be transferred to you.if interested below and contact me with this Email: joyloanlender24@gmail.com

Best regards
Mrs. Joy Adams"


First of all, I'm pleased to know that she loans to all categories of people...which I think includes little people...and...um...other people. Clearly, real estate investors are NOT a category of people though, since they are noted separately. I think it's classy that she allows them to participate too.

I also appreciate that she can loan at three different rates: 3%, very cheap, and moderate. That shows versatility.

Also, she is a aprivate loan lender. That means that she can loan at least $10,000.00 USD. You want a billion? No big deal. She can do that too.

I know what you were thinking. How can this be legit? Well DUH. She says she is. Maybe if she wasn't married, I wouldn't take her as seriously. But she is MRS. Joy Adams. If you don't believe her, just look at her very legit email address. No, not the one that she sent it from...the other one.

I don't know about you, but I am interested below.

Reclaiming the women's locker room

I work with mostly men.


I am the only woman who is active in our office and therefore I'm the only woman who uses the women's locker room. Due to our disproportionate ratio of men to locker room space, they have been plotting to take over our locker room. About a year ago, they came to each woman in our office and asked if they could use it - under the condition that if we wanted to use it, we would get first dibs. Despite a couple of scuffles to get to the locker room first, they've held pretty true to their word. I've used said locker room several times - but it's only been to change clothes for a run at lunch or to get ready to go to the gym after work.

But as I've stated before, yesterday was Colorado's Bike to Work Day, and that meant that I would need to keep a change of clothes and toiletries in the actual lockers. That's when I realized that our guys had taken over every locker.


So I decided to take one of the lockers back (and yes, I asked before I removed their stuff).

Since the locker that I got was a top one, I couldn't really pee on it to mark it as my space. So I did the next best thing.

In case you can't tell, we've got Vanilla Ice at the top (complete with shaved eyebrows! Word to your mother!)

The cool Cory/Cory combo (Haim and Feldman) AND Davy Jones (after all, he is so very dreamy)

...and last, but certainly not least, we've got "The Hoff" - circa 1980's where manscaping was a very distant thought.Yup. I think this locker is mine.

Giveaway & Good Vibes

Sally from Mais Fica had a fantastic post. Okay, she has plenty of fantastic posts, but this one was fabulous for two reasons:

1) She is hosting a giveaway - so you can stop by her site, read her blog, and then post to win one of three fantastic prizes. But I swear, if one of you wins the rabbit wine corker thingy, you have to invite me over to your house to help drink your wine. What? It's only fair.

2) She gave an award to me....

TADA

See? Isn't it pretty? I can't help but look at it and think that it may be a ball of rubber bands that is held up by Dr. Manhattan. True, I can't tell that it's actually being suspended by Dr. Manhattan's forces (mostly because I can't see his big blue balls in this picture), but I'm pretty sure that it's him.

Anyway, I should probably mention that Sally's blog makes me laugh on a regular basis. I find her delightful and honest... a blog that I enjoy reading daily. So check her out!

True to most blog awards, I'm supposed to pick a few blogs that I really dig. Honestly, anytime I've gotten this award, I've picked the same people - or at least that's what I think I do. So this time, I'm going to go out on a limb and nominate five people I've never met but they have blogs that I find simply delightful.

1. Fat Bridesmaid
2. I Don't Want to Die of A Heart Attack When I'm 25
3. dooce (I know...you guys probably know all about her, but she is hysterical)
4. The Bloggess (again, you probably know about her, but she is SO very funny and sometimes even offensive!)
5. Awkward Family Photos (seriously, this is absolutely hilarious. The captions are funny too - but not completely overwhelming and repetitive as found in certain blogs about cakes)

I've made it!!

I got my first piece of spam email from my blog. Someone asked if they could guest write for my blog - and then they linked to their "blog" which conveniently has absolutely NOTHING to do with what I write about. They sent it to my blog email (happyfunpants at gmail DOT com) so I have to say that I was pretty impressed that they went through all that trouble just to send me spam.


I know, I know...it's not as cool as the spam commenters that Charlie wrote about (down at the bottom of the post), but hey, it's a start.

Hey - also, tomorrow is Colorado's Bike to Work Day. So please, if you see a chubby white girl on a bike, give her a bit of room. I'm biking almost 3 times further than what I did last year and I'm pretty excited about the workout and soreness that I'll experience.

In honor of tomorrow, I've opted to link to what has to be one of my favorite posts of all time. It's about my first bike ride when I bought my bike over a year ago. It's verbose, but funny. :)

It wasn't even speedy!

As you may remember, Thursday I went to a speed dating/pre-dating event in Denver.

Despite my joking, the last time I went there were some great guys at the event - funny, smart, and outgoing. Out of the 12 guys last time, I was picked by 3 to be seen again...although I didn't actually see any of them again. They weren't the ones that I picked to date again. At the risk of being repetitive, this is the story of my life.

This time there were only 6 guys. I was picked by 5 of them to be seen again...which I have to say is quite the ego boost. I am confident that my attire had a lot to do with it as the "girls" were looking mighty fine - thanks to a low cut shirt and a bra that hoisted them up to where they should normally be. Seroiusly, I was even mesmorized by how they looked that night.

The last guy was so seemingly nervous during our "date" that I started wondering if he was having a physical allergic reaction to something he was drinking. His heavy sighs, his pulling at the neck of his shirt, and general weirdness made me think that something was wrong. So I asked him if he was alright, and he said that he was nervous and that the room we were in was making him feel even more nervous. Since it was the last date, he asked if we wanted to step into the bar area and get another beer. The guy was good looking, had a stable job, and seemed nice so I decided to get to know him a tad better. We stepped out of the room, he gave a huge sigh of relief, claimed he was better and then proceeded to act EXACTLY THE SAME WAY.

Twenty minutes later (and four shots of Jager and another beer - all for him) I realized that I needed an exit plan. The guy was just WEIRD. He was slurring by this point, talking about how he'd f--d (his word) a lot of women in the last 90 days to get over the last girl he was seeing but that he was looking for someone that wanted to have kids. He talked about how he read a book called "The Game" which apparently is how to score with chicks at bars - and then he talked about how many women he's f--d over the past few months.

At this point, I was wishing that I had some Purell on me - because not only did I not want to have kids with this guy, I also didn't want to even shake his hand again.

Needless to say, I left him at the bar after only drinking 1/4 of my beer. As I was getting up from the stool, he was SHOUTING "Awww...come on. Don't leave! Don't leave!" I looked to the bartender because I was completely embarrassed and the bartender mouthed "Leave."

Here's where I know I might lose some of you. I was secretly delighted. Sure, it was creepy because the guy is clearly unstable. On the other hand, I was strangely happy that I actually had a guy beg me not to leave him. I know. It's messed up...but it was totally a scene out of a bad movie, and it happened to me! I mean, it's kind of like something off of my bucket list of things that I want to accomplish before I die.

So far my list looks like this:

1. Ride a dolphin
2. Learn to snorkel
3. Start smoking
4. Stop smoking
5. Get a good looking guy to beg me not to leave him in public
6. Skydive
7. Have someone ask to marry me *
8. Have someone who is not looking for his Greencard ask to marry me
9. Find Manbearpig
10. Be a part of a diamond smuggling ring

I think I'm on my way.

*Yes - I'm kidding. Even the illegal aliens are wary of me.

I don't know what I'm looking for

The past couple of Fridays I've been picking songs that I like and imposing them on you. Because I'm pushy like that.

As I reflect on my thoughts from the speed dating event last night, I can't really figure out a perfect song to capture my mood today. Apparently there isn't a song titled, "Not even if you were the last guy alive on Earth." Yet.

I'll try to figure out how to capture the night's events in the funniest way possible to relay them to you...because what good is it for me to go through a sucky situation and NOT share it with you? Suffice it to say, I don't know what I'm looking for, but I know that I just wanna' look some more.

"What I'm Looking For" by Brendan Benson

Well I don't know what I'm looking for

But I know that I just wanna look some more

And I won't be satisfied

'Till there's nothing left that I haven't tried

For some people it's an easy choice

But for me there's a devil and an angel's voice

Well I don't know what I am looking for

But I know that I just wanna look some more

Well I don't know what I'm living for

But I know that I just wanna live some more

And you hear it from strangers

And you hear it from friends

That love never dies, love never ends

Now I don't wanna argue, no I don't wanna fight

'Cause you're always wrong and I'm always right

Well I don't know what I am living for

But I know that I just wanna live some more

I used to be involved, and I felt like a king

Now I've lost it all and I don't feel a thing

I may never grow up, I may never give in

And I'll blame this world that I live in

I visit hell on a daily basis

I see the sadness in all your faces

I've got friends who have married

And their lives seem complete

Here I am still stumbling down a darkened street

And I act like a child and I'm insecure

And I'm filled with doubt and I'm immature

Sometimes it creeps up on me and before I know it, I'm lost at sea

But no matter how far I row

I always find my way back home

But I don't know what I've been waiting for

But I know that I don't wanna wait anymore

What can I say? I'm a slow learner

Ever feel like you're on the cusp of something big? Some life changing event?

Well, that's how I feel. Truthfully, that's how I've felt for a few months and I'm hoping that that is an indication of my dating life being a LOT more exciting than it has been in recent months.

So I've opted to do speed dating. Yes. I know. I tried it last year and although it was a ton of fun, the guys I was interested in weren't interested in me... which is the STORY OF MY LIFE (I'm lookin' at you Josh Hernsberger*).

Anyway, in case you've never seen the movie "Hitch" I'll 'splain it to you:

You sign up online and meet at a bar. You order a drink to try to take the edge off and to be "more like yourself." All participants wear nametags with their first names and you sit in a room in a circle. The women sit in a chair and then men sit down for 3 or 6 minutes at a time. You talk. He talks. Then you rate the person. The night is over and you go home hoping that the guys you liked also liked you. Because you're nervous, you keep drinking. You wake up the next day with a horrbile hangover. You tune into the website and pick the people you want to see again. You avidly check the website throughout the weekend in the hopes that someone is interested in you. No one is. You keep hitting refresh. You still have no one interested in you. You call your cable company convinced that something is wrong with the site and/or server. You convince yourself that the guy must've gotten mugged on the way home from the event because how could he not have seen that there was chemistry between you two? You drink to forget the rejection you feel. You cry. You watch "Beaches" because at least it isn't a damn movie about dating. You cry some more. You call your best friend who lives in a different time zone, waking her up, insisting that she tell you that you're good enough, you're smart enough, and gosh darnit SOMEONE will like you. You tell her that you love her and that you would raise her kid if she died of cancer. You start singing "Wind Beneath Your Wings" to her. You cringe when then man on the other line abruptly tells you to get a life and take singing lessons. You realize you dailed the wrong number.

Or at least that's how it went last year.

So yeah, tons o' fun! Wish me luck! Wait.

Why don't you give me an idea of some questions I can ask the guys as they come to my table?

Because if you don't, I'll be forced to ask questions like, "How do you feel about the movie, 'Beaches?'" and we don't want that...do we?


*This is the second time I've mentioned about my 4th grade crush...and all I have to say is that at some time that poor guy is going to run his name through Google Search and is going read my posts and then high-five himself for dodging a crazy like me. Again. STORY OF MY LIFE.

Justification for Depends...

In TWO days, I get to pick up my very own brand new iPhone.

It's hard for me to concentrate on day to day activities because I'm constantly worried about getting over-exciting and thus messing my pants. In fact, they should probably hand out Depends as they give the phones to their new owners.

Yes. It's *that* exciting.

And no, it's not JUST a phone.

It's a phone that even Jesus supports. Or at least one I think he would support. Speaking of that post, I just re-read it and I have to say that Rex still appreciates my sense of humor. I've double checked since then.

My place is a deathtrap

Yesterday I wrote how my place used to belong to crack whores.

Today, I'm writing to tell you how it's also a deathtrap. I know what you're thinking... and I KNOW! I don't know how I get this lucky either.

It all started with a good idea. In an effort to be greener and to save money, I decided to add ceiling fans to my bedroom and living room.

They're SUPER cute... see?

Anyway, my friend Matt agreed to install them in my house...and so I bought he and his wife rounds of drinks as a way of payment of sorts. I figured if they were saving me the price of a handyman, the least I could do is to try to get them drunk. What can I say? I'm a giver.

A couple of weeks later, Matt and I tried to install the ceiling fan in the living room, when we realized that my bedroom light wouldn't come on at all. Yes. That's right. Just messing with the living room light made my bedroom light inoperable.

Turns out my place was renovated (this is after the crack whore removal...which as I understand it has got to be AT LEAST a 12 step process) by drunken artists.

I write "drunken artists" because it is clear that they were hopped up on some kind of mind altering drug. And I use the term "artists" quite loosely. I think of them as saying to each other things like "That is so FIERCE!" as they slap plaster and install 2x4's and do other renovation-friendly tasks. Things like proper wiring and wall studs not consisting of 95% paper shims seem like guidelines rather than rules to them. Besides, it would totally mess with the FEEL of the place, dahling!

So after hours of scratching our heads and drinking beer (also known as "idea juice") we opted to call an electrician. A few days later, an electrician showed up and was able to fix the problem. Turns out that although the wiring was not made solely out of coat hangers, it was put in by complete idiots. It might've been that the first electricians were too scared of getting beaten up by the pizza thugs or that they got paid in blow jobs by crack whores. All I know is that the wiring is not exactly up to Bob Villa's standards.

The electrician agreed to wire up the in-wall remote. One quick spark/fire later, and apparently it's all fixed.

Don't freak out. I'm totally pulling your leg.

It's not fixed.

See, the electrician didn't exactly FIX the problem per se. It's just that the fire/large spark made the previous problem not exist any more. It didn't FIX it, he just UN-BROKE it. When I asked, the electrician said that he would feel safe sleeping underneath the fan - that the problem wouldn't come back and that it wasn't a big deal. According to him, the wiring was fine and perfectly safe.

Then I told my co-worker, Larry. Who told his friend - another electrician. That electrician apparently said that I should in no way operate the fan lest I have a death wish.

That electrician (who conveniently does not work on residential homes) said that anytime there is a large spark/fire, it's a really bad thing and it can happen again at any moment. Without warning. So I should probably run far, far away right around now.

So now I'm trying to figure out which electrician is right. The one that said as many words as Bob Newhart's brother Earl (no, not that one...his other brother Earl) or the electrician that hasn't actually SEEN the work but rather heard about it through a twisted game of telephone.

In the end, I guess I'm going to call another electrician to my place just to get a 3rd opinion. I don't want a guy who is going to convince me that I need all new electrical work done, but I also don't want some guy to tell me just what I want to hear.

Hiring another electrician to rip apart my ceiling and walls just seems easier than trying to determine if I have a death wish from day to day. Don't you think?

Just like a Norman Rockwell painting, only not.

My place was built in 1882. Sometimes I'm amazed at all that must've gone on in this house. Even though I know that I live in a neighborhood that is an "up and coming" one, I still like to think of all the families and people that grew up here. I liked to think of all the babies that learned how to walk and of all the dreams that were achieved in this place. It has history. It has character.

I recently met a neighbor who said that her whole family has lived here all their lives. She started to tell me about what she remembers about the neighborhood and I settled in for a great story.

What she said was that she remembers when the neighborhood that I live in was so bad that they wouldn't deliver pizzas after dark. Umm...alright. Not exactly what I pictured, but hey, it's an old Italian neighborhood. I reasoned that OF COURSE they mugged the pizza guys. They probably were so offended that the inhabitants didn't make their own, that they HAD to beat them up. So really, it wasn't as much of a thug neighborhood as it was that people really cared about good Italian food. Right?

She then followed that with, "Yeah, up until 10 years ago, your place used to be a crack house."

FANTASTIC.

Turns out that my place does have history.

It's just that it also has connections to the Mob and perhaps an incurable case of VD.

Anne vs Van

Remember when I made a complete fool of myself? Well since then, I've opted to tell that story to just about anyone that will listen. I'm sure people think that it's silly or stupid of me to display my short-comings so quickly to others. However, I believe in a higher authority. Humor. Humor trumps all and any story like that one NEEDS to be shared.

Last Friday night, I hung out with some friends and, of course, I told them the story. They laughed...and then my friend DJ asked, "What if instead of shouting 'ANNE!' he was just shouting 'Watch out for that VAN!"

No. That is not what happened. I'm quite sure.

HOWEVER, I will share that since then, I now look both ways for vehicles that might hit me...and I look at vehicles that I might hit. :)

See, Mom? I'm learning.

I do not think that word means what you think it means

Chassis, my big blue Great Dane, is fantastic. In my opinion, she is the perfect pet - which means that she is the perfect dog (because again, I'm not a huge fan of cats). Despite her health issues, she has the best disposition of any animal I've been around. But then again, I *might* be a bit biased.

She weighs in at anywhere between 140 and 150 pounds, depending on the time of year. That much dog means that she eats a lot of dog food - 6 cups a day to be exact. And in case you didn't major in math, I'll just tell you that that adds up to a CRAPLOAD (pun intended) of dog food over a month. The food that she was on was Eagle Pack Large and Giant Breed. She did so well on it, versus the previous foods that I've had her on (Canidae, Timberwolf, and even some holistic brands) that gave her horrible skin allergies and conditions. She used to literally scratch herself until she was raw. She's allergic to just about everything and changing her diet to or from anything provides more gas than anyone should be forced to be around in their lifetime. So I try not to switch much about her diet.

BUT in these economic times, Eagle Pack has continued to raise their prices. And now a 33 pound bag, which lasts her about 3 weeks, is over $45.00. That means that I pay about $60-$70 a month. A MONTH. Something had to change.

So, at the recommendation of other forums and pet food specialists, I've switched her to a brand called...

EXTREME DOG FUEL!

Although I didn't have a firm idea on what I expected the bag to look like, I guess I did imagine the packaging to be more...well...extreme.

For those that care, she's been on it for about a week and it's working fine so far. Her skin looks great and we're not having any more gas issues than normal. Which means for the most part, I can keep the gas masks in the closet. The added benefit is that at $33 for a 40 lb bag, it's much more affordable. AND they touted that I would be able to feed her less as the food is much more nutrient dense.

I've just cut her monthly grocery bill in half, which means that there is more money to spend on beer Plan B Bibles.

Watch out William Katt...

If I was a superhero (and I'm not saying I am), this would totally be my name.


Protecting the environment, conserving energy, and of course buying only green leather purses, shoes, and accessories.

I'm addicted

...to two things:

1) Watching "Arrested Development" episodes on hulu.com. This show is absolutely hilarious and I finally started watching them from the first episode...which makes subsequent episodes much more funny. I highly recommend it.

2) Playing "Farm Town" on Facebook. At first, when friends told me they were addicted I looked down my nose at them. The game is so rudimentary that it seemed almost insulting to insinuate that I would even like it, let alone be addicted to it. For those that don't know, it's a game where you are a farmer. You plant stuff. You buy stuff and you harvest stuff. You can visit your friend's farms. I KNOW what you're thinking - especially if it is a variant of how lame my life is. I agree. It is lame. BUT, I challenge you to play it for two planting times without wanting to get sucked in. In fact, late Saturday night there were party at my farm with three friends I know from real life. We though it was so funny/sad that that was how we were spending Saturday night that we took a picture to commemorate the moment.

(sigh)

I know. I need to get out more.

If you don't tap your toes, you're dead inside

Fridays have started to be the day for me to share music with you all...so here's your dose of some good tunes!

This week Dave Matthews Band came out with their long awaited album, "Big Whiskey and the GrooGrux King." And it is FANTASTIC. I'm partially saying that because I hope that Boyd Tinsley will read it and then realize that we are perfect for each other (seriously, have you seen his hot body?)...but mostly because it is so very true.

Just so you know, iTunes has it for only $9.99 and I have to say, I don't remember spending $10 and being so happy with my purchase.

I've opted to share my two favorite songs from the album. I like "Why I Am" slightly better, but "Shake Me Like A Monkey" is quickly gaining on it. Strange, I know that you should never, ever shake a baby, but are you allowed to shake a monkey? Probably, but I don't want you shaking Pete.

Anyway, happy listening!

It's my way of saying good morning

So, I've gotten into running the last few months...and I really love it. Except for when my knees tell me that I don't.

Since I have the eye doctor's appointment this morning, I used it as a great opportunity to get out there and run first thing in the morning. Typically, it's bright and sunny in the mornings here in Colorado, but today, not so much.

Anyway, as I'm finishing my run, and trying to cross the street, I could've sworn that I heard someone yell "Anne!"

So I, still running, turn to see who was calling me and couldn't see anyone who looked like they were trying to get in touch with me...

...and then I ran into a parked car.

I'm not kidding. I wasn't looking where I was going (obviously) and just smacked right into the side of a van. I felt SO stupid, but I was so thankful that it was early in the morning so it's not like the owner would've seen me or anything. But as I passed the drivers window, I realized that the motor was on. I turned around and saw a person in the front seat looking completely confused.

I smiled, waved, and kept running.

Because seriously, what else could I do?

Do these make my eyes look fat?

'Member when I got my eyes checked on St. Pat's?

Well, because the headaches and eye pain haven't gone away, I finally ordered the glasses. They are SO cute!

I'd love to show you an updated picture so that you can see just how groovy and cute they are... but the truth is, I'm having a hard time wearing the glasses, having my eyes open, and either a) attempting to not vomit all over the place or b) have the pounding headache in my head get worse such that I'd rather be vomiting.

Needless to say, I'm not sure I have the right prescription.

I made an appointment with the eye doctor (by the way, his name is Chester Roe III...and doesn't that sound like the name of a great villain on Scooby Doo?) for tomorrow morning. Worst case scenario, I have to order new lenses for the glasses but that would REALLY piss me off so I hope that that's not the case.

Since I've been having such bad headaches, having to wear the nausea-inducing-and-compounding headache glasses on AND getting pissed off would pretty much be like "Hey - isn't that a fire over there? Here, let's douse it with lighter fluid - just to see what happens." And you know what happens then? People end up losing their eyebrows.

I'm just saying...

Nice try

So I went on a date this past weekend with a guy that is actually quite the pompous ass.

But he's hot.

So I was telling a guy at work about it and he said that if he's that hot, I should "hit it and forget it."

I cocked my head to the side and said, "Do you mean, hit it and quit it? Because otherwise you might be trying to sell me a rotisserie chicken cooker where I should SET it and forget it."