Dear Potential Friend--n/smkr, f,s,will wear heels.

I wish I was more popular?

Again, I was sitting in Psych. 101 today, story of my life, and the girls several seats down were talking about parties that they were going to be attending Saturday.

This weekend on my list of things to do is:
1. Stare at the ceiling
2. Take my sister shopping
3. Buy more thongs--Armageddon sale
4. Eat with the family for sis's birthday

Though I have no problem celebrating my flesh and blood's 18th, I wish that there were more people that I could socialize with between family holidays.
I mean...
I facebook, I myspace, I blog, I check my email,
I have super cool waxing appointments...

Why am I not more popular?

To my knowledge, to be popular you need a collection of these things:
(particularly girls, but if this floats your dinghy boys then be my guest)

1. Tanning bed membership......................................check

2. Dyed hair ....................................................... check
3. Mascara ......................................................... check
4. Sorority Sisters ...................................................Nope
5. Sweat pants with "pink" on the butt...........................Nope
6. Fake Uggs .......................................................check
7. Monogrammed Purse ..........................................check

I have 5 of the 7 cardinal cool "collector's items"!!
Why do I spend my weekends in the comfort of Riverside Estates?!
(And no that is not a cemetery...but God does it sound like one)

Anyway, I have this theory as to why I have only 4 people to hang out with:
I'm too short. Simple as that.

Potential friends can't look up to me, so they look down; I can fit clothes that I had in 9th grade which reminds potential friends of the awful time they had in 9th grade; potential friends have been pre-programmed to hate and squash tiny things...I= cockroach; potential friends don't know whether to categorize me as a "little person" or just as an "impared" grower, they get annoyed wondering about it and opt to leave instead.

The only way, it seems, for me to ever become popular is to wear high-heels with my new Vicky-Secret warmups while talking on my pre-paid to some sorority girl I stalked on facebook.

Sounds presh'...

What I've learned today in life, love, and politics:
Life: I have money; want to be friends?
Love: I have money; want to be friends?
Politics: I have money and I'd really like yours!


--all done in good humor

I <3 Cream Filled

Returning the favor...the end is near.

With such graphic and tragic happenings around the world this week, as reported by AOLnews, there is no mistaking that Bush must be the antichrist and Armageddon is upon us.

AOLnews has made it shockingly clear that Florida's lack of power is a "puzzle"--apparently the thunderstorms that plagued the Southeast yesterday are not the cause. da da dum...

They also are reporting that a rare earthquake hit Manchester, England; "I couldnt' get back to sleep because I was scared it was going to happen again," said Laura Bocock. "I was in bed at the time and suddenly there was quite a big bang and shaking that woke us up."

Electricity out, earthquakes, big bangs in the night, are these signs of the unfortunate second coming?

The bible says somewhere that in the last days fire will fall from the sky, the earth will tremble, Lindsay Lohan will pose nude, and that the water will be turned to blood....
It seems as if all is coming true, and way too fast for the Buddhists and I to pick a side!!
I don't want to go to hell, but it will be so nicely decorated once all the gays are there...

I wish that Bush's mom would have realized she was pregnant with the antichrist; we could have locked him up and hoped to GOD that he never would learn anything about politics. What a relief that would have been to Al Gore's 10 year plan back in 2000.

The last sign, as I'm calling it, is an AOLnews-post proving how wretched this world has become. The post is entitled, Museum shows Evolution of Underwear, and clearly depicts the downfall of humanity in regards to our "unmentionables".

Originally God had us run around nek'd but then he said...you eat my fruit you wear something to cover that soiled ass...God gave us our first pair of Hanes and we've been wearing them ever since...until the THONG that is.
God's holy-full-coverage-granny-bottom was replaced in the mid/late last century with floss and a girl scout patch. Sewn together, I <3 Cream Filled, became the slogan on the first G-string.

OBVIOUSLY, we have begun going back to our heathenous ways of running around skyclad. The AOLnews article states that, "Oh, I don't know what'll come next...Maybe a return to...nothing."

With the deletion of Hanes into thongs, we do not have the Fruit of the Loom to fall back on, Adam and Eve ate it...so all we can hope for is that God is willing to take our souls in return for his lost panties.

But with the unsettling news of the End Times via AOLnews surmounting, I don't think God is in any mood to negotiate freedom.

What I've learned today in life, love, and politics:
Life: Choose your underwear wisely for the next couple of days. It may just save your soul.
Love: Missionary style is listed in the Kama Sutra.
Politics: George "dubya" Bush was spotted in his horns and cape circling the White House last night. All presidential candidates, except Obama, shrugged it off and continued their Cagle-execises. Obama commented that he, "will not play the Devil's advocate," and decided to opt for a turban and photoshoot in Kenya instead.


--all done in good humor

Say "No" to the "Preacher"

Most people believe in such a head-over heels definition of love.

The white knight, ball gown, witch in disguise shabang; but I must say that love has begun to feel like an imaginary feeling.
Like the saying, "that'll shut her up";love is just a word that people use to keep others happy.
And then get some...
For example, my first boyfriend Tyler had this way of making himself a bit "overly" excited when we were making out and would...you know...in his pants.
Then he'd go into overload asking me, "Oh my God, do you think you're pregnant? Do you think you're pregnant?"
"Do I think I'm pregnant?"
Well yeah dipshit, I'm pregnant right now!!
We both have our pants on and you came in your tighty-whities.
Someone call 911.
But no... I took the good with the bad...I was in 11th grade and that was love babAY.
He broke up with me.
Then my next boyfriend, for another example, had this great accent, was nice, cute...blah and blah...but he had this issue with me talking to people my own age.
He was a senior & I still a junior.
Jealousy isn't the best policy, but I convinced myself that love must be behind the behavior.
Lucky me.
I broke up with him after two weeks.
Third-time's-a-charm-Adam came around my senior year.
He was my grade, my type, had been a long crush--stereotypic highschool sweethearts...
Until 1. Got caught having "semi-sex" by my parents
2. Found him never able to satisfy me, but always in need of a bj
3. Realized a year and a half in, that he would only ever love the Greenbay Packers

He dumped me ofcourse.

Then the last "guy-friend", the one I deny ever having because I can't stand the thought of him, was Preacher.
He was older, bigger, and much more in to me than I was him.
I tried to convince myself the whole time that we "saw" each other that I liked him, but found that his physical nature did nothing for me.
The guy had three nipples for God's sakes!
What was I suppose to do, be like, "Nice nipple. This must be love?"
No.
Just didn't work out; moral issues, you know.

And don't think that the love cherade escapes other categories. Take babies for example.
I don't know what people get high off of when they see a baby, but bring one in a room and everyone goes nuts.
Apparently the FDA is going to be starting some sort of research on the benefits of babies as an esteem booster; wrap that euphoria in a gel-capsule; and sell it under the name Prosac2.
Sign me up.
Babies, men, puppies in red bows...they're all the same.
Give them what they want, and they'll shut up.
Tell them that you love them, and they'll stare back at you and drool.
Tell them that its over, and you feel bad the next day.
Never see them again, and you wonder...what ever happened to _____.

So what I've learned in life, love, and politics:
Life: Don't trust the Jews.
Love: Don't date preachers.
Politics: If Hillary Clinton was my wife, I'd have cheated on her too.

--all done in good humor

Crop Crap Ya'll

Today I skipped my jogging class for greater things including, but not limited to:
sleeping
eating
watching tv
downing an IBProfin jar
having my uterus twisted into a replica of the statue of liberty
wallowing in self pity

So far, this morning has been very fulfilling.

Yesterday I read a friend's blog and was ABSOLUTELY HORRIFIED by the slanderous remarks he made about Southerners. We'll call this guy Gary.
Gary narrowmindedly states that all southerners look like crap, spell like krap, and fight like blind Jackie Chans. WHAT A LOAD OF BULL!!

I happen to remember that Anna Nicole, Pamela Anderson, and Brittany Spears are all southern belles; our president Sir "ahibidahibidah" G.W. Bush is from Texas, and Walker Texas "Roundhouse" Ranger accompanied Lassie to overpower the Cuban government (Castro's in ill health my ass)...
I would like to ask, what the hell the northerners ever did for the south?

They took away free labor and trade-
They didn't tell us KATRINA was a HURRICANE-
Their slow driving and waiting at yellow lights is making gas prices SKYROCKET-

The only good thing about the North is that their lack of true Democratic nominees has caused Ralph Nader to come out of his cave...as we all know, the last time he ran for president a Republican Southern Man WON---This is definitely a good campaign booster for Steven Colbert 2008.

In any case, Gary continues by posting about 5 pictures that he so graciously cropped. One in particular is a picture of a KuKluxKlan march; what Gary cut out was the deaf and mute kids on the sidelines that the KKK were raising money for.




So what I've learned today in life, love, and politics:
Life: Try to do something nice, and people crop all over you.
Love: When a category 5 HURRICANE is heading toward people...tell them about it!!
Politics: Cross your fingers, Southerners, that Ralph Nader doesn't die yet.


--all done in good humor

Prohibition Ammunition

I feel like I'm going to barf.

This can mean only 1 of 3 things...

1. I'm pregnant
2. I drank WAY too much last night
3. My dirty ho-bag roommate gave me the rhino-virus

Medically speaking, I don't think that you can become pregnant from sitting on toilet bowls--so I'm scratching that one off.

I haven't really seen "Gator" the past couple of days (off stripping I assume) so I am only going halfsies on that one--I just wanted to include her in this discussion so that I could call her a dirty ho-bag.

Last night I downed about 1/3 of a bottle of merlot & about 3/5 of a bottle of champange. I weigh about 108, am 5'2, don't know my actual hair color, have a tramp stamp of a Giant beating a Patriot, and have a maximum heart rate of 201...so of COURSE I must have a hangover!!


So last night started as just a way to loosen up from a week of utter 'boringness', but like I said, I'm a tiny person...I run away faster when you try to chase after me...I lick up drinks off the table when you spill them...I try to make it to the toilet bowl, but sometimes I just fail.

Sidenote: Please be aware that I have no idea what I'm talking about right now...I just compared myself to a dog, only it was kind of funny so I'm not going to delete it. Just realize that I drank my weight in booze last night accompanied by only 2 people. Not exactly a partAY. And now I'm just rambling trying to fill the void in your miserable life b/c that's what this blog is for. Your entertaining, mother fucker. END NOTE

What I can remember from last night was that I put on heels and started dancing to music from my own imagination. I ran outside and tried to race Elysia, who grabbed me and pulled me back to my stoop. I took my pants off, while on the stoop, and started singing Mulan--it was bound to happen--and then spent the rest of the night by the toilet bowl trying to figure out how pre-Subway-Jared's-turds could fit down the tiny hole at the bottom.

What I learned the morning after in life, love, and politics:
Life: Life is a bitch, so sometimes you gotta slap her around a little and show her who her daddy be.
Love: You all up in my goodies son, take your gun and run, run, run.
Politics: When your black-lesbian roommate starts drinking, cyber-sexing on your computer, and takes out her gun and starts laughing...only & ONLY then, do you begin to appreciate laws concerning "gun-control", "prohibition", and "indecent exposure".


--all done in good humor

Beer rhymes with fun...

So I'm sitting in psych class today and some kid on the "loser" side tries his hand at a "lecture-room-whammy" (the technical term for a joke used during a 100+ student lecture). Unfortunate for him the joke didn't work out well, and left me wondering:
"why even try?"
As "loser sides" go, anyone who falls into my definition of a loser--belongs on the other side of my world. Just a fact.

In any case, this guy was on the loser side--along with some girl down front that kept annoying the teacher with mentally challenged questions--"loser boy" makes the comment:

"you're trying to rhyme with one? Well one rhymes with fun, and beer is fun."
Ha ha ha hahahahahafuckyouhahahaha haha ha ha, fart.

Just shoot me.

Then the socially repressed girl down front responds with,
"Well moo rhymes with two, and cows moo."

Thank you Hindenburg disaster victim.

Let me back up by saying that my teacher was lecturing today about memory tags; one in particular being the mailbox method.
He radically suggests that if you want to remember something then visualize this thing/memory as a mailbox.

If you want to remember to buy tampons,
picture a mailbox made of Tampax Pearls.
If you want to remember to have sex, picture the mailbox naked.
If you can't remember to wipe your ass,
then you should probably seek out medical attention.

WAY WAY too *out there* for me. I just buy post-its.

So, as I was saying, this guy and girl both made comments worthy of CAT-scans and tranquilizers--and to understand this "loser side" behavior, I have come up with a theory:

Everyone on the "loser-side" has responded to the Sociology Research flyers posted around campus; for $25 dollars per hour the "losers" granted access of their brains to rogue sociologists who incorporated Chef-Boyardee into their cerebral makeup. The combination of pasta and plasma extracts have resulted in a race of bloodless mutants who have the mind-span of a ravioli and who religiously read, 'Pavement Analysis: The History of Concrete.'

Ah...another accomplished day in Psych 101. And what I've learned in life, love, and politics:
Life: You don't learn funny; you either know it or were born looking like it.
Love: I <3 the speech impared.
Politics: This years New York Fashion Week has collaborated with the USC Sociology department in research efforts. The newest trend will be gold sequin tights (available this summer). The resulting heat from the reflected sunlight will be used to melt the polar ice-caps so that the sociology department can study the effects of world paranoia (and so that George Bush can go surfing in Montana when the ocean starts expanding).


--all done in good humor

Polysulfatefibroglysterine

So apparently there is this new "miracle pad", as my roommate calls it. The product is called Kinoki, a post-it/band-aid that you put on your foot to draw out the toxins from your body.
Kinoki uses the ancient system of "lying" to lure unsuspecting "victims" into buying cheap "crap" in order to lose "cellulite" off their fat "ass".

AMAZING!!

For only 19.99+ $100 shipping and handling, Kinoki pads can be yours. You are guarenteed to feel better and healthier the first time you use it, or your money back. And if that doesn't just butter your biscuit, fatty, then you'll be glad to know that with your purchase comes a "LIFETIME SUPPLY" that is always on hand (just pay for the $100 shipping and handling). So just in case your first trial leaves you with a rash or more cellulite, you are guaranteed enough foot-pads to keep trying for the rest of your life!!


AMAZING!!

"Currently I am taking a jogging class with USC, and now after seeing this ad I've decided to quit college, move to Australia, and become a scuba diver." Actual Customer

AMAZING!!

"I used to eat soup all the time--and bread, lots of bread--but now after using this just once, I never have to eat again. The cellulite is gone and I use my leftover pads as giftpaper." Kotex customer.

OKAY!!

So, if you want to be like the three customers that use Kinoki, then call 1-800-398-7711...start losing weight today.

What I've learned today in Life, Love, and Politics:
Life: The only way to lose weight through your feet is by running; dumbasses.
Love: Why can't we learn to love cellulite? Its soft, warm, has cool ripples...it loves chinese food.
Politics: Fast food restaurants have collaborated this afternoon, after knowledge of Kinoki surfaced. Instead of lowering the amounts of trans-fat in their food, they will be adding salt and polysulfatefibroglysterine. In order to counter-act this decision, Kinoki foot pads will now be available next to the ketchup pump.
Ultra-Kinoki foot pads are available upon request for those buying combos with cheese.

--all done in good humor

PMR-post marital relation

Are there really people that say "titty-witties"??

I was watching "Sex and the City" tonight and began wondering about the anthropology of sex terms. Unlike race, religion, and the OJ Simpson trial, the evolution of the word va-jay-jay is a little bit harder to come by (no pun intended).
Last week, my roommates and I went to the Gourmet Shop for lunch, and we began an interesting conversation about the word "boom-boom"; a Virginian term for sex.

Down south we say *post marital relations*.

To make 2 points come together, though, there must be a reason that slang is perpetuating our dicks and ca-ca's into doing whatever the hell fucking is.
Don't think that I'm down playing sex...one up for you, 2 down for us single gals...but has the dispersal of derogatory sex terms played a part on the esteems of women? Can social stereotypes be made according to what sex terms you use?

I must be black because I say pussy,
I must be Asian because I say vagina,
Oh, and then white people don't talk about sex.

Though these aren't real examples, the point is still clear. Maybe this is what I'll write my dissertation on in a couple of years--It would probably be titled, "Cunt, wtf?" I'm sure the College of Arts and Sciences will be thrilled.

So even though we didn't actually learn about the evolution of va-jay-jay, I hope that we can still be facebook friends, if not my lesbian roommate will probably stalk you.

Anyway, one more thing, I need to find a boyfriend to practice my sex terms with; that way I can atleast start on my masters thesis.

Running add:
Female, white, does not respond to twat. Tramp stamp of a Giant beating a Patriot.
Don't know how tramp stamp got way back there.

Done, a fine ad.

So what I've learned today in life, love, and politics:
Life: If all tampon boxes said "insert into ka-ka", maybe there wouldn't be so many damn varieties.
Love: Love don't cost a thing, unless you get it off of eharmony.
Politics: Ebonics, the newest FDA approved male erection enhancer.
"I'ma' put my ding dong in your woo-hoo,
to make a little boom boom."



--all done in good humor

'Obvee'

So I'm sitting here, literally right here & now, listening to my roommates Phantzie and Gator (yes those are their real names) talking about god knows what...most nights of mine are spent in the comfort of my grand yellow and green apartment/"estate" contemplating my future as a world-renown astrophysicist turned Hollywood sitcom star, but tonight it seems the only thing on mind are the random comments being made by my "wonderful" living acquaintances.
"Woman please," She says.
"Think of all the stupid people there are, there are a lot of stupid people out there who think they're really smart."
--How do you get more philosophical than that---
"Unless you're like a doctor or lawyer, or realtor. hahahaha, she's going to be a realtor; I've got a big dream for her. They make pretty consistent money though. Everyone needs a house, even if you are selling a crack house.
This is why all asian families want there kids to be doctors or lawyers. This is why after they realized I sucked at science they said, 'You have to be a lawyer'. Lawyers are dirty. Actually when I was little I wanted to be a judge...weird huh?! You know what mainly I wanted to do was? Wear the robe and hit the gavel, because I remember watching the OJ Simpson trial and seeing the judge saying, "Sit down and shut up.' Apparently as a child I was attracted to power."
--Kill me please. I want to die before I listening to the rest of this--
"Here's your shit, we're going to take it away and liquidate you...Love you, bye. Oral fixation! Wait, I'm pretty sure the next one IS oral fixation."
--I got your oral fixation.--
"Pay attention (Gator)."
"I've been trying to drink water but it makes me feel like ass; I drank this whole bottle of gatorade."
"I'm going to fill this up for you, and you're going to drink it."
"That whole jar?"
"Yeah, the whole jar"
"No!"
"If you get better before tomorrow I'm going to kill you. And then we'll get school off."
"Ty Ty, so fly fly."
--Here enters my other roommate--
"In which the child represses all interest in sexuality."
"24 oz? Is this 24oz? Ball, that's the type of Mason Jar this is...Ball."
--Alright, I'm done with this shit--
What I've learned today in life, love, and politics...
Life: IQs drop with the opening of the mouth.
Love: Doesn't exist. Love is the word for people who apparently represses all interest in sexuality.
Politics: Asian + Sicilian = Big mouths with little eyes...not too good for seeing when other people want you to SHUT UP...j/k guys <3, j/k

--all done in good humor

"he put his baby in a box, for the sake of science, 'obvee'..."

big FISH

The only "true" Mexican restaurant in Columbia can be found at the WalMart plaza on Garner's Ferry Rd...just a tid-bit. There were no signs of lattice work, juke-boxes, or french fries--a big step up from the rest of the world.
Last night I slept over at a friend's house and was asked the inevitable christian-saturday-night question: "Do you want to go to church in the morning?"
Unfortunately for most of the people I know, they have yet to realize that I no longer have sentiments for choir robes, offering plates, communion wafers, or Jew jokes. I am an ANTHROPOLOGIST; studier of people, conveyor of ape-olution, and hummer of African songs, for goodness sake! Don't get me wrong, it doesn't kill me to go to church, but I find it paroquial and very egocentric.
I mean, the Bible is just a slap in the face to all other religions/cultures in the world saying, "Israel is better, God choose us first, he only gave you chop-sticks while we got forks." Come on, if there was a God, why would he ever choose the Jews to be his immaculate people?
What have the Jews ever done for the world? Italians gave us pizza, Hawaiians gave us grass skirts, black people showed us how to dance...but where is the Jew throughout history? The only thing that I can tie them to are long sideburns, torah scrolls, and WWII. If I was God I'd atleast pick a team-mate, not a bench player.
So anyway, back to me having to go to church today. I read all of Ecclesiastes (something more people should do and try to understand) and still managed to catch a few winks between gospel hymns portrayed on the 50ft. big-screen down front (oh, those showy baptists). So anyway, what I've learned to today in life, love, and politics:
Life: You swallow this big fish and expect it to keep you full, unfortunately the next day you end up hungry, sitting on a big load of crap...same thing with religion.
Love: It's better to have loved-and-dumped then to have loved-and-lost.
Politics: Obese Americans should not be allowed to vote twice, Hillary!! I don't care how radical you are!!

Just one of us...

Today I had the priviledge of riding to Concord Mills, NC with my best friend, and happened upon this wonderful book while at the local mall. The book is "The Atheist's Bible" and I must say that it was an incredible scim through--lots of good examples of sinners sinning against the "Holy Word of Our Lord Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints Valentino and Dolce and Gabana". The authors have cleverly collected sayings from some of the world's most influential persons, living and benign, and combined them into a--gospel of sorts. Great stuff. I found one little blurp especially compelling: recorded as being said by Fredrick Douglass, "I prayed 20 years for freedom, and finally got a reply from my legs." That little statement got me thinking as to why religion ever got started. My personal theory is that religion was the first form of anti-depressant; our monkey cousins didn't want to sit around staring at bananas and thinking about their immediate death by alien attack...the only answer would be to pray to the aliens and ask them for mercy. Batabing bataboom, Judaism is born--the aliens never show up, and the banana is honored for its potassium. This is such a nice feeling that the Jews decide to walk upright, never eat pigs, and wash in olive oil.
I once heard that Sigmund Freud said, "There will only be peace on earth, when all religion is expelled." So yeah, those aren't the exact words, but you get the idea. The other night I went home and was talking with my dad about this quote, and was pretty shocked to hear that he believed it to be true (ME TOO DAD!! high five). How many roaches does it take to screw in a lightbulb? Probably the same number of Christians it would take praying until world peace came about. Sincerity, honesty, love, and truth, aren't things that come with a god. They are things that we have made a god out of. Look at the world, and the mess that religious pompousness has left in its wake. The world would be better off with congregations of Red Cross volunteers--and let me say that with the help of morphine, there is no need for a higher power to decrease your pain. Anyway, so my day in the shadow of life, love, and politics:
Life: What if God is just one of us?
Love: There is no mold for love, it comes in all different UPS vans.
Politics: Only you can prevent forest fires.

--all done in good humor

Amazing Grace

Today I was driving to work in this obscure part of Shandon, and low and behold I see this epiphany staring at me through my windshield. It was...the infamous church-front sign life lesson. "No one is perfect but you must try." I mean--how could you not feel insignificant and in need of some downright faith after reading something like that!? It appears as if the church-go'ers have finally found a way to bring others to their congregations---what a relief; I was beginning to wonder if they'd ever find me! And this isn't the only sign that I've seen lately that its time to pack up my anthropology books and dust off the old torah, just last week I saw a sign that said, "Give God what's right, not whats left." Those tricky little bastards; how did they know that I was holding my wallet in my right hand? Anyway, back to this weeks sign. I was pretty perplexed with the statement that said, "no one is perfect..." Maybe it was just me and the Methodists, but in my church I learned that Jesus was perfect... Why do christians allow Baptists to write pagan ideas on their church signs?? Not only are they corrupting the whole earth, but they also are wasting water with their full body emersion baptisms!! I just don't understand; why aren't such wasteful, irresponsible people put into the same category as the Mexican boarder crossers and Roman Catholics?? I mean, if we expelled them they could all just go back to the Vatican, Mexico, and Utah--no one would be the wiser!! I feel like christian churches, especially Baptists, should be prosecuted for monopolizing the country's billboards; I mean, how many Islamic or Satanic signs have you seen littering the street corners lately? None; because the church-go'ers are all a part of this monopolizing conspiracy. Take all the billboard space, and they'll be none left for the Jew...that's their plan. Fortunate for me and the other sinners, every once in a while a "Adultry is Super Evil" church sign, will be recycled into a 100 ft tall "Adult Supercenter" BILLBOARD. But this is soon followed by the usual, "seven days without prayer makes one weak" diddy...AND how could you NOT want to turn off on exit 69 for that church!? So what I've learned today in life, love, and politics...
Life: Hold your wallet in the left hand when at all possible.
Love: The day after Valentines day has really great chocolate sales.
Politics: A Baptist walks into a bar....Ouch.

--all done in good humor

MRs (Mexican Restaurants)

So, although I currently have a blogspot, I decided to make another so that I may generate my feelings in a way other than secular 10-minute storyesques (kaygreenfield.blogspot.com)....you know...lots to say and such. Anyway, today was my first ever "real hockey game"; hold the applause. And while the night was elsewhere spent in the arms of significant others & at couple-friendly bars (valentines day = gross), I had free tickets to see the Columbia Inferno take on the Pensecola "Ice Pilots??"; if I knew anything about hockey, then perhaps I'd know if that was right & what the fuck an ice pilot was. The game went to my disadvantage as I had a bet running that the Inferno would lose; my bad Inferno, my bad. Though the little tussles on the rink were fun to see, the only thing that really kept my attention was my bag of sour patch kids gummies. Ofcourse I'd go to a game again, but I beg someone to please share their beer or cheap nachos with me, that way I stay on my feet long enough to make it home afterward. After the game I tried my hand at selling pink breast cancer shirts to a room of overweight men, and moved on to greater things...the local Mexican restaurant. Its funny that no matter where you go, what you do, or how drunk you may be, all Mexican restaurants look the same!! There is the lattice-work fence inside with some sort of string lighting attached that helps the workers practice their painting skills at night (apparently Lowes contracts all the fence-work and such---"you can paint it, Mexicans, and we can help"), the sombraros lining some portion of the wall (or floor, or ceiling, or toilet bowl--the servers never actually wear the hats...pitty), and then ofcourse the un-Mexican, un-culturally-related background music (the owners at Montereys are trying to broaden their food-appeal with the help of Counting Crows, Lynyrd Skynard, and Rico Suavey---just kidding.) In any case, I've learned much tonight concerning life, love, and politics.
Life: Bet for the Inferno, not against (atleast when they're playing a team who's state has only seen ice like 32 times ever.)
Love: Valentine's day Shmalentine's day
Politics: Introducing one's self at a Mexican restaurant as "Jose, professional fence painter and Sweet Home Alabama freak" is not the way to keep Mexican's from crossing the boarder.

--all done in good humor