We're already wet, and we're gonna go swimming.

I know, it's been a while since I've posted a lyrical blog title, but I still have 13 Going On 30 on the brain from a few weeks ago. You'll have to forgive.


I have often found myself doing the same thing. Except without the really expensive dress. Or the bod. Crap.

Anyway, I've been spending the last few weeks thinking about blogging, so that should count for something. I've been otherwise occupied with trying to say my age without coughing uncomfortably, threatening to burn couches at a moment's notice, and fiddling with blog and MySpace layouts. Seriously. You know it's sad when I get all jazzed about changing the colors on my template and renaming everyone in my Top 20, and I still don't do dick about posting.

I should probably take a hint from Lisa and keep the MySpace layout simple. But the colors are so pretty!

Jesus, this dry spell is getting annoying.

Anyway, I managed to get through the birthday with thankfully little fanfare. I got some nice gifts, one of the greatest of which was a picture frame with four Gator Football photos: one of Tebow flying into the end zone, one of Reggie Fuckin' Nelson breaking shit up during the Alabama game, one of Urbs hugging Chris Leak after the MNC, and a black and white one of just Chris Leak. Ben did an awesome job of picking out the photos. I'll have to post a picture of it here later, so you can view it in all its glory.

I'm all over the joint, as usual. I can't focus for shit. This is probably why I can't put together a sensical post. My head is starting to hurt. I'm going to go drown my sorrows in a glass of milk and a few Peanut Butter Creme Oreos. Don't fucking judge me.

Read More...

Summary only...

Thirty and flirty and... oh, who am I kidding?

I swear, my main mission for the day was two-fold: get through work without killing anyone, and ending my evening watching 13 Going On 30, because, well, dammit, the day's here, and I owe it to myself. I also miss seeing La Garfleck on my tele on a regular basis, but that's neither here nor there.


Oh, come on. You know you miss them.

Alas, things didn't pan out exactly the way I had hoped. I did manage to complete my workday sans casualties, but I didn't have the time to watch La Garfleck "spectacularrrr" (imagine Uncle Jimbo from South Park during the episode when he went to Mexico with Ned to get illegal fireworks, and you've got it). Oh, well.

I did, however, manage to have a great dinner whilst sitting in a booth behind who had to be the strangest couple I have ever witnessed eating together (ever), and across from a booth occupied by what I could only conclude was a rehearsal for one of those "real-life" dining scenes on Laguna Beach.

It did get weird, however, when Mr. Pretentious (half of the Strangest Eating Team Ever power-couple) started to talk louder, thus drawing the attention of the LBers. This somehow encouraged him and he started what I guess was his style of flirting, which consisted of him getting even louder and having his two-person conversation heard by the whole restaurant, along with openly mocking the LB Rehearsal Girls. The two LBers (and the rest of the joint) grew increasingly uncomfortable, while I was just glad Ben and I were sitting behind the guy, so he couldn't really turn around and engage us in his general dickery.

Did I neglect to mention that when the Eating Team got up in the middle of their meal to burn one, it was only then that I noticed that Mr. Pretentious looked to be as tall as Danny Devito, and his female counterpart was a fucking Amazon? Sorry I forgot. But enough of my Birthday Dinner Theater.

So, this is thirty. Not much different from twenty-nine, except I referred to myself as thirty today, and the reality of those words coming out of my mouth somehow startled me. I'm not sure why.

As long as I keep getting carded for R-rated movies, however, I think I'm good.

Read More...

Summary only...