On Cheese and Bowling:

Good early morning, Blogger! I am sitting in a computer chair, eating beef jerkey and drinking Yoohoo. I find this combination to be disgusting, yet satisfying. Chocolate milk(ish) drink, and dehydrated meats do not exactly make for a perfect coupling, but I am willing to look past that for the time being. I really ought to be brushing my teeth, putting on some PJ's and getting into bed. Actually, I will be getting "into" the couch, my bed for the time being. I like it there, Freddie and Penny repell off my butt in order to get onto the uppermost part of the couch. There's nothing like a butt-pounce at 3:30 in the morning.

Tonight I discovered two things. One of those things being that there is such a thing as too much cheese, and the other being that I have come into the realization that I am an extraordinary bowler. Okay, so by "extraordinary" I mean extraordinarily bad. It's definitely not my fault though, I think I am going to blame the superfluous amount of gutter-balls on having to bowl right after Dr. Chris. That's a tough act to follow, man! Do you practice on your technique during office hours? I personally like my way of bowling, so whenever I knock over a pin, the victory is extra sweet because it is a seldom occurrence that any pin falls. Had we been playing soccer, or possibly even dancing to Zydeco, I can guarantee that I would have come at everyone with a flaming vengeance.

Also, it does not help to move your body in the general direction you want your ball to go. I discovered this as well.

I think I regard myself as a boring person outside of my writing. A random thought. Psychologically speaking I think I am so use to writing out everything to get it into order, that I fear not being verbally articulate enough. Either way, I like being personal with people, but of course most people want that type of intimacy. I guess that's why I have gotten so picky with relationships? Being comfortable with someone, and to still have a mutual appreciation for each other is difficult. Or maybe it isn't and I have just been around examples in which comfort turns into not having to try. ..Maybe that's what is referred to as a "rut"?

I'm not so sure what I am rambling about now, honestly. I think because I recognize a habit within myself to condemn myself and my expectations into sorts of desparity. Being human, so many people do this because it's easier. It's easy to live up to the mediocroty of your own expectations; it doesn't get you hurt. Of course you won't be loved either, technically speaking. Happiness can not always be inate, sometimes we must be pro-active I suppose.

I am still rambling, hm. It's late and I think my thought processes are becoming a bit disjointed, unfortunately for this blog I also get very chatty at night. The abstract quality of my thoughts, and said chattiness mix together about as well as Yoohoo and beef jerkey.

Just so we're clear:

I like to shop for clothes at Old Navy now. I like it because it makes me feel skinny, whereas usually I wear a size 6-9 in jeans, at Old Navy I fit into their 4. I like that. Even though, technically it's the same thing. The number makes a difference.

I don't get that.

This is will be short.ish. maybe.

Tomorrow I will be going up to Birmingham with Kaleigh and Bobbert, this excites me. I haven't gotten much time to spend with my sister, and I think I will have her all to myself for most of friday! I like that. I will be staying up there through New Years, and taking a bus home on the second. I am interested in what this ride will be like, I am unnacustomed to public transportation and I hear that the B-ham bus ride to Mobile can get more or less.. sketchy, or the people are sketchy? Something to that effect. I am sure it will be interesting, in a life threatening way of sorts! If anything it gives me time to write? I do not believe I have a portable c.d player, and I KNOW i do not have an ipod. Hopefully something better than Snoop Dog and Friends will be playing.

Yesterday, Kaleigh, Bobbert, my mother, and I went to go see Night at the Museum. Our original intention was to see Happy Feet, but it was sold out. Fortunately for us, Night at the Museum kick the provebial butt, and despite it occasional slapstick comedy, it was better than most of the movies I have seen as of late. (granted there have not been many) I find it annoying that Stranger than Fiction has moved out of theatres without me having ever seen it.

Bobbert has made some coffee and I plan to drink some of it now. I also need to pack up and take a shower, mostly take a shower though. One side of my hair is sticking out horizontally from my head. I like that, but only when trying to scare small children.

(and above you will me doing the bobbert dance.. in his sweater vest and jeans. Yeehaw.)

10,000 points to Christmas!

Merry Christmas fellow Bloggeracians. I hope your holiday, if you chose to celebrate it, went without a hitch, kink, or anything else related. Santa Claus (who looks wildly similar to Mr. Ray) left me a punching bag beneath the tree; Santa thinks I have anger issues. All joking aside, that punching bag kicks butt, I have been asking for one since the dawn of mankind. I have also been asking for tap shoes since I was in first grade, but apparently Santa thinks I am better suited for kickboxing instead of tap dancing. I happen to enjoy making percussion with my feet, I'll go on somehow.

I am also the proud owner of a new digital camera of which I would not mind taking out somewhere and seeing what I can do with that little slice of photographic heaven. Park trip = soon.

My mother tried to make banana pudding for christmas dinner. It was a great try, but unfortunately ended in something that could have passed for banana soup, with vanilla wafer crouton/crackers. We prayed that when refridgerated it would firm up a bit, whatever chemical reaction or whatnot that it would take to do such... did not occur.

My mother's banana pudding was not the only dessert suffering from technical difficulties. I made an apple strussel and when I had put the finishing sliced of butter on top of the dumped cake mix, I realized I had forgotten to mix some water in with the apple filling so as to prevent drying. There was no way I could dump it out to add the water without destroying the cake and butter layer, so I pulled a McGyver. I found an old cajun turkey- injector needle and syringe, filled it up with water, and proceeded to inject the water into the apple layer of the cake.

Of course only select spots got the neccesary water. We can infer from this that my strussel was not as good as it usually is. This too, is a testament to my poor short term memory. I'm going to make a great wife for some lucky male! As long as said male has the capacity to find it endearing when I store an object of some sort in a place where I think I could never forget it being, and then forgetting the supposed unforgettable spot where it is located, and subsequently tearing the house apart on a daily basis to find these items. I'm a catch.

Christmas eve was very fun, my grandmother entertained us with stories of pretending to be a hooker at casinos, and getting away with it. My grandmother is pretty hardcore.

I might go visit my father tomorrow, I have not talked to him in quite a few months. Maybe I can witness my half brother acting as a conduit for satan. That's what the word is.

The Juggernaut has not gotten a gas cap for christmas yet, but that's a good thing. I hope he just sits there in the driveway, in all his decrepit glory. I'm sure if he got a gas cap, the first thing he would do is drive away from a Circle K without it; as is the way. I honestly hate the Juggernaut, when accelerating, the engine roars so loudly that it sounds like I need to shift into another gear. What is this, another ploy to rob me of my dignity? The looks I get when I am driving next to someone as the Juggernaut voices that ungodly noise, sounding like I should be going 60 mph when I am peaking out at 30 mph.. These looks are dripping with vehicular superiority, and disdain as if I am the one who is responsible for these noises.

Thank you Kia, for sucking so badly.

I also played dress up in Bobbert's new sweater vest and jeans. I think I am planning on wearing men's clothes from now on, they were so comfortable. Alright, so I may not have been exactly aesthetically pleasing to the eye. The pants sagged in every spot possible, if I had been wearing boxers I could have easily sported a gangster look. With the sweater vest and pants all rolled into one, I admittedly had a bit of a butch look to me. I'm sure I could find me a great woman at a softball park somewhere.

It's officially 2:09 a.m.. I am not the best of sleepers, but I'm going to give it a try. Micro-fiber couch, here I come baby.

HAPPY KWANZAA(ish)!

Yes. This will not be a long post at all, we are about to head over to Bobbert's momma's house and see what is going down in the house of Naylor. After that we head over to Biloxi to visit these people in this order:

1) Aunt Bobby (her cajun-self makes awesome gumbo.)

2) Grandfather. aka Pa Paw (also a master gumbo makes, despite his origins in West Virginia)

3) Grandmother, aka Ma Maw (another gumbo specialist, amongst other food. I plan on truly devoting myself to weight gain in this establishment.)

Afterward we will come back home. I may possibly join kaleigh and bobbert at 10:00 mass, and I am sure eventually we'll go to sleep, so as to invite Santa down our chimney/window/front door. He won't use the back door because the porch is still suffering from post-Lily poopfests.

I look forward to wathcing the Christmas Story, all twenty-four hours of it, baby! I also am uber-excited to sing christmas songs in the car. I like that. ..except for when the play Nsync christmas, or celine dion christmas, or josh groban christmas. Or Marshmellow World (damn you Mobile Singing Children. Like that song was not bad enough to begin with..)

Last night was spent in redneck paradise! It was hilarious! I went with a friend to a company party in Irvington, I was offered several shots of Patron that I turned down. Not because I am elitist, but because it smelled something like rubbing alcohol. I do not think I have ever heard "Sumbitch", a derivative of "Son of a Bitch" uttered so many times!

I ought to leave now! I hope we all manage to attempt to have a great christmas-eve-day, and rejoice in our families dysfunction!

*above you will see my nuclear-radiation-mutant-two headed- six eyeballed- mouse, and then my Prostitute Bin. (actually made of graham crackers) Notice the burlesque(ish) booby-tassles my artistic genius (cough..) added for a little extra pizazz.*

Der ner ner ner ner... Neo... dernernernernnernernerner.. Sporin.. BLEEDDEEDEE!

The other night I happened upon an awkward situation. I was having dinner with a couple friends and suddenly our server came to our table (we were sitting in the bar area, not because any of us smoke, nor drink, but because another buddy was just a server in that zone) with a drink on his tray. We looked at each other trying to figure out which one of us was dumb enough to try and procure alcohol at an illegal age. The conversation went as follows:

me: Um..

Server: This is yours, ma'am.

(Stunned looks from friends, shot in my direction)

Me: I'm sorry, I uh.. I don't think that's for me.

Server: No, it's definitely yours. (proceeds to put it in front of me.)

me: No, really! I did not order a drink, I can't even legally order one!

server: Oh, my bad! I thought you were 21! Well, that guy over there at the bar ordered it for you.

at this point I look over to the bar to see who said "guy" is. I am immediately apprehensive, I have this way of attracting old hispanic men, or very manly women (which is the most frequent outcome.) I see who he is pointing to, it looks like an regular, normal, guy wearing an OfficeDepot shirt. Of course this makes me even more apprehensive because at a table full of my girlfriends, I assume one of the others would be flirted with first. They are all petite and long-haired, men like that! (I guess. Men also like frito chilli pies, so I am unsure on whether or not that logic is flawed..) Whoever singles out the lanky red head at a table full of petite blondes, must be strange. Aside from that, only moments before, I had danced to Black Betty in the middle of the aisle..

me: What am I supposed to do? You have to tell him something!

server: I'll tell him you're seventeen and illegal!

me: ....uh, sure.

I'm glad we worked that one out. It was a bit of an odd experienced, I am very unnacustomed to the "turning drinks down" ettiquette.

Also, I have this odd feeling of being insulted! Should I take it as a compliment that someone mistook me for being two years older than I really am? I am just going to go for the old self-esteem booster than I act older than my age.

Though I hardly think breaking it down to Black Betty constitutes as an act of maturity. But what else was I supposed to do? The Chosen One danced to it! I should be able to express my taste in movies, artistically.ish.

I think I am going to watch Kung Pow now. Maybe I will save it for later, Mumsy hates that movie with the burning passion of a thousand suns.

"I'm falling,

You're falling,

We're falling!

...WHHAALLEE!!"

Tomorrow night is arts and crafts night, I am very excited. I seem to be at least mildly artistic, but when it comes to crafting together christmas birds, mice, snowmen, and gingerbread(more like graham cracker) houses.. They turn out to look more or less (for lack of a better word) "ganked up". Mice end up looking like two-eyed, mutant-radioactive, creatures, that have crawled up from the depths.

People laugh at me, I like that.

"Come on baby jaguar; you saved the condors!!"

Okay, friends and family, I am tired. I was going to write something that was actually interesting, but then I decided to leave that for tomorrow. (maybe.) However, I really felt like typing up random junk tonight, so here I am!

Before I start, I would just like to state that today I spent three hours with middle school, female, cheerleaders. This is a very interesting breed, if by interesting you mean they are completely bizarre. I also have "Who Let the Dogs Out," replaying in my head, along with some countey song about football. I hate you, Capital One Pre-Game Show. I also recently watched Saw, and Pitch Black. Vin Diesel is gay, I just found this out. I feel happy now that the gay community is going to be associated with such a talented actor. (lies.). Saw was.. special. It was like the special friend that stays and stays, and won't go away. It made my feet hurt.
I still can not recall why I watched either one. Someone should have warned me.

Today whilst on my way to teaching the cheerleaders, I was listening to music and noticed this annoying habit I have of listening to particular songs over and over again. So here we are, this is a list of my top favorite songs, or at least some of the ones I can listen to on repeat and be perfectly okay with it, or even better are the ones that still manage to emote me each time I listen to it.

In no particular order either:

1) 17 Years - Ratatat (I just like to rock out to it.. and dance in the Juggernaut)

2) To Be With You - Sufijan Stevens (Robby showed me some Sufijan, i pretty much liked each song, and decided on this one because it was the first on I thought of..)

3) Summer in the City, On The Radio, Fidelity, A Field Below - Regina Spektor (I am in love with her music. I could not pick just one.)

4) Never Going to Die, Whispers - Hamelin (They're perfect, or close enough for me)

5) Blackbird, Yesterday - The Beatles (self explanatory)

6) CandyCoatedWaterDrops - Plumb (rawr!)

7) Blinded (When I see you) - Third Eye Blind (Because it makes me feel special.)

8) The Sound of Settling, What Sarah Said - Death Cab for Cutie (for completely different reasons. Sound of Settling is not a lyrical masterpiece, but it's catchy as hell. What Sarah Said can almost always reduce me to tears on a emotional day.. I'm such a wimp.)

9) Which to Bury, Us or the Hatchet - Relient K (It has a way of justifying paticularly bad moods)

10) This District Sleeps Alone Tonight, Nothing Better - Postal Service (It's like really awesome club music. aka TEMO)

11) Reasons Why - Nickel Creek (woohoo?)

there are in fact, many others. I was not even going through my classic rock songs.. except for The Beatles.. it just snuck in there. I am stopping for now, because the list was about to go on for another ten. I decided to stop for the sake of my eyeballs, they're starting to wander in that special sleepy way.

okay.. so I am really very tired and some TNT original movie is on, it's disturbingly bad. I want to turn it off, as I would a small blender or other kitchen appliance.

And lastly: Some childrenses, or something, vandalized our blinking mini-snowmen. Come one, at least go after the satan tree or something.. or least destroy the larger ice-cube snowman. Stomping a miniature snowman is so not hardcore. I found this choice to be psychologically fascinating.
okay.. so not that interesting.

i lack sense now.

aarrrrugula!

That is IT, I am done with baking! Last night my buddy and I tried to bake a cheesecake, we followed all of the directions perfectly! We baked it for 40 minutes, just like the recipe said to do, and when I got up to have a piece this morning... the inside is not all textured like a cheesecake is supposed to be. It is quite "jigglish", if you know what I mean. It does not even really TASTE that good either.
So I am hanging up the baking mits, and leaving it to the proffessionals, like my mom. Alright, so of course I am going to bake again sometime (probably again tonight), but I just wanted my moment to feel vincdictive toward the lack of good food I have made recently. I really can cook, honestly! My red beans and rice are definitely kickin', and I have been known to make good rainbow chip cupcakes too.
I also make great rice-a-roni, but I guess that does not count. Does it? Hm.

Another exciting thing I have managed to learn how to do is wrap presents. Alright, I have not quite gotten it down to an exact science, and the presents do end up looking a little ganked up... not to mention the absurd amounts of tape. THAT IS BESIDE THE POINT! The point is, however, that I do not sit the present in the middle of some wrapping paper, roll it up, then twist the ends. To give you a better mental image of what this might look like; think of how a peppermint is rolled inside of its plastic.
Yeah, that's what it looks like, probably even less festive.

What do I have planned for today? I plan on learning the rest of that ridiculous cheerleading dance I have to teach my middle school cheerleader childrenses, and that's it. I really am interesting, honestly! None of my pals are as easily entertained as I am though. For example: I felt like going to municipal and feeding the ducks. I find this activity to be quite satisfying, and exciting when it comes to me running across the park from particularly grumpy ducks. I asked my gay man if he wanted to go with me, he declined by saying, "That sounds boring, Dina," and then requested I join him in "clubbing" that night at some club named Atlantis.

Needless to say, I declined in return. Aside from the fact that I am not exactly the "clubbing" type, I am especially not the type who would want to spend her saturday evening surrounded by a bunch of drunken weirdos, being groped at by the drunken weirdos, while the drunken weirdos initiate a bar fight that breaks out right behind me. For some strange reason, I never found this appealing. I'm such a spoil-sport.

I think I am getting to the point where I need to invest in a new cell-phone. If it was linen, it would be ragged.

If you catch my drift.

I think I will leave now.. Agh!

Last night went on fairly uneventful, aside from the most awkward trip to Cracker Barrel ever.

I usually have a load of classes on Thursdays, but my finals were finished on Tuesday so yesterday was spent in wind shorts, a t-shirt, and my mom's bathrobe. The momma has Tuesdays and Thursdays off, and she spent her day in the same capacity (minus her bathrobe), devising finals for her classes. We did not really eat all day, aside from some oatmeal that morning and some moderate snacking. When six o'clock rolled around, we figured it was time to eat so we called in an order to Cracker Barrel. I happen to appreciate their macaroni and cheese.

I had to make a quick run to Winn-Dixie for some diapers, and then I headed toward the Barrel. As soon as I walk in, I hear, "Robertson," over the intercom thingy. I look up to the cash register area, and low and behold, there he is staring back at me just as surprised as I am. This guy happens to be my ex-boyfriend's, ex-boyfriend. Yes, you read it right. Of course as soon as we make eye contact, both of us diverted our attention to other areas. Also, to add another layer of awkward, my ex-boyfriend's, ex-boyfriend's, current boyfriend was working the cash register too.

So as nonchalantly as possible, I walk up to the counter to pay for my food. The ex-boyfriend looked at me disdainfully and handed his boyfriend my check and food and said, "Here, you take care of her." His tone was not exactly friendly. We have never been introduced to each other, and I was unsure as to whether or not he even knew who I was.

Just an observation: I do not recall at what point my "dating" life took on such gay undertones. I like it that I have this affect on men and their romantic gender affiliations. I am not sure whether I should take it as a compliment or as a roundabout insult that a gay man was interested in me enough to date me. Either my personality must be super neat, or I reminded him of a man..

anyways.

I think he knows who I am, something about the tone, and the way he stood over in the corner throwing annoyed looks in my direction, kind of gave it away. It must have been a sketchy break up, I can relate! I am not a big fan of being automatically hated, I really am nice; i swear!

To make things worse, my brain stopped working on a mathematical level when I tried to add the tip to the total. I was only slightly embarrassed.

At least the ex-boyfriend's, ex-boyfriend's, current boyfriend was nice!

Man; good times, great oldies. I sure do get pick out some winners!

Anyways, tonight another attempt at cookie making may occur. I really want some Christmas cookies, damn it.

As bad as those cookies were, their "badness" can not compete with the sugar cookie disaster I am responsible for, nor the cake incident in which I thought I might could substitute Bisquick for baking soda. I do not recall why I thought this ingredient exchange would work in the same capacity.. In my defense, I was a bit deranged due to illness.

The sugar cookies we textured like glass, and if they were able to be bit into, I am almost 100% sure they tasted like glass as well.

This post is not all that interesting, but I am bored and figured I would take a couple minutes of your life away.

All this talk about food, and now I am hungry. Unfortunately we have not grocery shopped in awhile, and my choices are between pop tarts and chicken broth.

I think I am going to go with the pop tarts. Nutritionally, the broth is probably a better choice, but the pop-tarts are probably more substantial.

I really don't feel like shaving my legs today. I shaved them yesterday, but last night I think I had a dream about climbing a mountain of ice (or something to that effect..). I woke up freezing my butt off, and now my legs are prickly, I don't like this.

...I now think I have surpasses the point of too much information. Sorry about that, guys,

"Ya'll, I'm Stupid, Yall!"

The past couple evenings have been interesting. Okay, so maybe the usage of the word interesting is a little more polite that I intended it to be.

Originally, I figured one of the most important things to base a good friendship off of was a mutual concept of respect and trust toward each other. "There is no life without love, there is no love without trust." (Cupid to Psyche). Of course that has a tendency to come across as cheesey as "Roses are red, violets are blue," poems (which I happen to appreciate under some circumstances). Regardless, I do not think many people are going to argue me for the aforementioned point. ..Except for maybe the people who have crossed that line.

Girls are a unique gender. Men are too, undoubtedly, but most of my friends are female. Or gay.. these sometimes can correlate.
Anyways, a rule amongst females who have a strong friendship relationship, (at least in my gang), was to never consider dating your best friends' boyfriend of four years, regardless of the fact that they are now not seeing each other in a romantic capacity. No female likes to be put in that awkward position, and I for one, would not be able to have a romantic relationship with an ex-boyfriend of my best friend. (This wording is getting confusing for me, I think I am being too general.)
But with this situation and having a really great friend of four years, going about dating an ex-long term committed relationship of another four years, gets a bit sketchy.
I am unsure if I would like to discuss the same relationship I had, but transposed to another person. Undoubtedly I am a great source of advice and information on the topic.. And I do not think I am being self-righteouss about the "awkwardnessity."
Girls talk about their relationships. Alot. Too much. So now what is there left to talk about, now that I am being unreasonable and refuse to discuss the inner workings of said relationship?
I am guessing... soccer and college, food, and music? Well, maybe not music, no one listens to my music that I assosciate with on a daily basis. I think I have great taste in music! Why does it have to be my generation that has this ridiculous affinity for really bad country, and rap?
Old school rap, I can listen to this; I find it humurous.
I am off topic now.

I am also tiring quickly of the, "But I can't help the way I feel," defense. I do not accept this as an overly valid excuse. I "help" the way I feel on a daily basis, really! Sometimes I would not mind letting go of my diplomacy and sense of empathy, and maybe saying something that may not exactly be charachteristic of my nature. However, I refrain from doing so; just because you feel an emotion to a high extent, does not give you automatic permission to act on that feeling without regard to the people that it might have some kind of a detimental affect on. (or is is effect.. Linguisticly speaking, sometimes i mix the two up.) It's a bit of an odd feeling; being the second choice. I guess I should be thankful for that reaffirmation of my friendship, or lack thereof.
Maybe if I felt like I was being selfish, or just all around wrong, then maybe I would feel worse. But in this case mostly I just feel just somekind of self-righteouss betrayal. I'm allowed to be right, sometimes.
Maybe it would also be different if I was a crappy friend. I'm a damn good friend though. I'm good at that. I'm good at loyalty.
"I just want you to be happy," is a pretty loaded response.
Sometimes I like feeling taken for granted though; it reminds me that there was something worth taking advantage of to begin with. It's a roundabout way to feel self-worth, but it works.

ON ANOTHER NOTE:

Last night my buddy and I tried making some cookies from this recipe Jana gave us. The recipe called for a package of cream cheese. I figure, "If it has the word cookie and cream cheese in it, how could itpossibly be bad?"
The cookies tasted like tupperware, and when we cut one with an exacto-knife, the interior was like a flakey biscuit.
So bad... They were really bad. We should have just taken Kaleigh's advice, and made the damned sugar cookies.
They did look pretty though. We went to Winn-Dixie to see if they had any chunnakah cookie cutters so our christmas cookies might be politically correct... We found no manora or star of david. Very dissapointing.

Jeebus, those cookies were bad.

Picture details (from bottom up): Picture number eins: Cookie that somehow got baked with an insect wing on it.. we tried to give it to my mom.. she noticed.

Picture number zwei: panoramic o' cookies. YUM, you guys!

Picture number drei: Lance Zirlott enjoying one of the cookies... I just told him to look excited about it, so people wouldn't think we're sorry bakers..

Picture number vier: THUMBS UP TO JESUSMAS COOKIES!!

What? ..You said you didn't like me? Oh, okay.

(YOU CAN'T FOOL US, DONALD!)

IT IS THE EVIL WEEK OF FINALS. Yes, I have two down, two more to go. I kicked off finals season with drama. To my distinct surprise, the exam was difficult due to the weird random facts that have a tendency to go in one ear and out the other.

This morning I enjoyed a Finite Math final, I think I did better on this exam that the drama exam. We have it figured that if I at least make a 60 or so, I can pass the class with an A. No one else may be impressed with this, but shock waves reverberrate throughout my house when I announced this to my mother. I have a mental block against math, and the last time I made an A in a math class was my 8th grade year. I struggled with a couple questions, and I forgot the standard deviation formula.

This is okay, standard deviation can kiss it.

I find it amusing that I can hate certain songs, until I turn the volume up so high the Juggernaut has a little added vibrations... It's the only way I can like these songs.

Every time I drive around blaring 17 years by Ratatat, I feel like such an elitist. It does not have the same effect when the volume is below 22.. In fact when I first listened to it (at a regular decibel) I regretted illegally downloading it.

It is the same with Make.Damn.Sure by Taking Back Sunday.. This song is outrageously bad, until you it have shaking your steering wheel. It is a good song to sit in your car, and stare vindictively out of a window.

Sometimes I ride around singing along with I Touch Myself by The Divynls, but only to be obnoxious.

Today was the first day in a couple months that I have taken my Regina Spektor c.d. out of the player. Okay, so it actually rotated between Regina and whatever christmas music I can find on the radio... but I can only take so much backstreet boys christmas album, especially when they sing "Noel". Wow, something inside of me dies each time I hear it. I also hear way to much Celine Dion Christmas. I do not think it is neccessary to hear her sing O Holy Night, Silent Night, Ave Maria, and Do You Hear What I hear, all in the same hour. I can't take that much Dion. If we could cut that (at least) in half it would be appreciated.

Soon I will be heading to my English final, and after that my Psychology final. I am not too worried about the English Comp., we are writing an in-class essay. The only problem I foresee is a lack of time. I studied extensively for Psychology, but I tend to freeze up on the scan-tron. THEN, upon completing these two I will be meeting some homies and starting a bar fight. Alright, so maybe I am not doing that exactly. There has been a violation in the code of ethics amongst certain individuals, I like that. If by "like" you mean "that annoys me."

Despite the cold, I would really like to eat some ice cream; more specifically I would like some frozen yogurt from TCBY.

I just wanted to make that point.

Ich heisse Wohl Fische eine Brille. Ich heisse Nuddelsuppe.

Above you will see one of the biggest wastes of space I have ever managed lay eyes upon. Alright, so that is somewhat of an exaggeration, but I really hate that thing.

What you see is THE JAGTRAN. This elephantile waste of my tuition roams the South campus, wreaking of diesel. The diesel smell is so powerful, you can actually smell the JagTran coming, even before it comes around the corner to run you over in the most regardless way possible. The JagTran is out for blood, I have come into this discovery. Jagtran wants to run you over.

Although in the picture above you may see a significant amount of people riding the JagTran, trust that this is not the case. That picture must have been posed by coercing, (and possibly paying), some poor college kids to sit still while the JagTran takes them God knows where. Rarely ever do I see anyone on the Jagtran aside from its operator, maybe because if you plan to use it as a transport to your next class, you will undoubtedly arrive late. Very late. My english professor even said that if we are late, all we have to say is, "JagTran," and it will suffice as an excuse.

You have two species of Jagtran to choose from, openned and closed. Above you will see the open JagTran that is reminscent of the trans you might would ride on in Disney world. I often feel compelled to dress up in a Mickey T-shirt and fanny pack and ride the Jagtran; disney-style. The closed JagTran just looks like a "pimped-out" shortbus, and is equally as annoying to see speeding down the sidewalk I am attempting to walk on.

Recently there was "Party in the Jagtran", in which a dozen students assembled to ride the Jagtran one afternoon, brought KFC and sprite, and rode the Jagtran around campus for an hour. They had also brought a stereo and turned the volume up all the way, blaring the The Matrix soundtrack. I find this usage of JagTran to be acceptable.

I do not know what it is with me and the automotive related appliances. I hate them.

An update on the Juggernaut:

Now we get to shake the Juggernaut to get it going, it's great. Saturday morning my mother and I could be caught in the front lawn shaking the Juggernaut frat-party style. I spent the night with my Katie and Laura saturday night, and when I woke to leave in the morning, we could be caught doing the same exact thing.. again in the front lawn. Unfortunately we were not doing a good enough job of shakin' up the Juggernaut, so we walked a couple houses down to my automotively-inclined gay man's house and got him to join in on the shaking of the Juggernaut. The Juggernaut and I got home eventually, with me cursing it the entire way, demanding its allegiance to me.

I believe the Juggernaut is rapidly declining into a "hoopty." I hate The Juggernaut, and the Juggernaut hates me. We have been fighting alot lately, and this past week we've barely spoken. We had an especially bad fight when The Juggernaut drove away from the Circle K without it's gas cap. We went back later and found half of the gas cap. Then The Juggernaut drove away from yet another circle K, again without whatever was left of the gas cap.

I think we might break up soon.

P.s. I am ready for Christmas. I want to make some ganked up mice.

Now I will Vomit.

I do not mean to make two posts in one day; unfortunately I could not get past this.

Unnacompanied Minors" May I ask, why?

Why, God? Why?

Why do we need this movie in our world? Why must we let actors like that guy from That 80's Show, run amok?

I did not need to see that commercial; I did not need to be confronted by the dredges of the acting world all at once. I did not need to hear a young,black child rapping about being an "unncompanied minor". What is that?!

MAN, what happened to all f the awesome christmas movies?

i.e.: The Christmas Story, It's a Wonderful Life, Family Vacation, Miracle on 34th Street, Rudoph (the claymation one), The Grinch (not that shoddy one that Jim Carrey made.. so bad. I am talking about the cartoon made a llonngg time ago?).. etc.

Modern holiday movies are awful. I remember when Jingle All the Way came out. I think I almost keeled over myself with the absurd, and excessive amount of commercialism... not to mention my despair at seeing Arnold in yet another acting role. (but it is prefferable to his Governing role. yikes.)

But for godssake. UNNACOMPANIED MINORS?!

Nothing screams merry christmas to me, like a bunch of snot faced kids, depraved "adult" actors, and a pointless movie about a load of assholes stranded in the airport.

And the moral of the story?:

Next time hang yourself from the rafters if you find your acting career has landed you in such a travesty as "Unnacompanied Minors.".. instead of punishing the world with your annoying lack of talent.

I think I could get just as much christmas spirit as this movie spits out, by being tramped by a herd of reindeer.

Why do we need this movie, why?!

I wish next time the movie industry attemptsto elate my holiday spirit, it would simply refrain from doing so and do something more productive that does not involve diminishing the sanctity of my Christmas.

Yack..

My ethical responsibility as your mother:

I do believe it is lunch time, and I am here with my hotdogs and spicy mustard, accompanied by a piece of Kraft packed American cheese. Okay, so this lunch is significantly gross; it was either hotdogs or ice cubes... You're right, I should have gone with the ice-cubes. On tuesday my supper consisted of half of a Mrs. Field's chocolate cookies, a couple of Peachie O's I nabbed from the girl who sits in front of me, a piece of Orbitz spearmint gum, and a cup of Coffee from Dr. Java. I am really on a streak here with this health food thing, maybe by suppertime I can finish off the Turtles chocolates my mother bought at Target! I think I am going to start putting on the Christmas poundage early this year, by New Year I can have love handles spilling over my low-rise jeans in the most trailer-park manner possible. It's a plan.

I am not so sure about working at Waffle House anymore, and it is for the most selfish and ridiculous reason. It is not because Waffle House just looks like a slave-driving plantation of saturated fatty proportions, nor because of the cracked-out clientele has a tendency to be creepy, and not because Waffle House seems like a magnent for robbery... It's the dishwashing. You wash your own dishes, and yesterday I saw many a syruppy plate go back to the shelves, and passed back out to customers; fully loaded with hashbrowns, and waffles. Plus, I have that thing about my hands and hot dirty water.

At Ruby Tuesday I found myself disgusted each day by the salad bar conditions. I saw many a dirty heathen child grab the potatoe salad with their bare hands, and reach and grab the already brown iceburg lettuce with the same exact grubby paw. I even saw one big sexy lady with a snakeskin mini skirt, white-lady weave, and strappy hooker boots, take a grape, bite the grape, exclaim, "Damn, that's sour!" and put it back. Wow, classy stuff mon ami.

I also remember this one great ToGo order I took "skraight" from the ghetto. They ordered two full racks of ribs, one half rack, two bacon cheeseburgers, a sweet tea, and a diet coke. Of course they never came. However, what I remember the most is this wonderful quote from a girl who I am sure was named Janishaboo, or possibly Ladarren:

"Guhrl, we gon' be ridin' a white Escalade wif' TWENTY-TWO'S! Jewknow what dat' is?!"

"..No ma'am."

"GGGUUUHHHRRLL, TWENTY TWO'S IS RRIIMMMSS! And we gon' be ridin' up in thur' wif da' music up so CRUNK. It's gon' be CRUNK AS HELL!"

"... "

..it went something like that. At least now I know twenty-two's are rims,and I am glad. Not really.

I wonder what the Juggernaut would look like with twenty-two's. I have managed to lose all the hubcaps, except for one. I know another one fell off somehwere in the vicinity of the Steak and Shake drive thru. I ran over it, it made this crunching noise as I pulled away from the window. The drive through lady looked at me as if I had just ran over a very small child.

And randomly: I have discovered how much I like Sam Shepard. I just finished reading Buried Child, it has been one out of three plays I have read by him. His writing reminds me of jazz, the breaks and the language. I had no idea he was the same guy from that Diane Keaton Movie Baby Boom. .. I mean, he was not Diane Keaton, he of course played the love interest.

Last night a gay man and I went to Bed Bath and Beyond, and T.J. Max. We were checking out of Bed Bath and Beyond as it was closing, the manager asked us and his employees where he could buy pepper spray. I guess it was meant to be a christmas present.

"Merry Christmas, I bought you a can of pepper spray for those pesky muggers."

This just screams happy holidays, to me.

I think I will leave now, this has gotten ridiculously long, and I did not even have something poignant to say.

P.S. Our mother has bought christmas scented glade plug-ins. It smells like berryific-Evergreen blend. I am not sure how my nose feels about this yet.

...

BEHOLD A ROASTED HEN.

...or possibly a turkey.

..i am having difficulties distinguisging between the two at the moment.

...I shaved my legs for this?

Yes, that is an actual picture of the Cimarron Club... well, at least the front doors. As you can see, the Cimarron is a "private club, members only." Most people from Mobile can tell you at least one thing about the Cimarron club, aside from its predelection for holiday shrubbery nailed to the front door ("gangsta" style).. We know of the frequent shoot-outs occurring directly in its vicinity, the meth busts, and the arrests of cracked-out ebony goddesses (I am going to go out on a limb and say freelance hookers)... But no one has seen the inside of the Cimarron Club! May I ask why this is a private club? Is it really in fact that elite? How does one go about becoming a member of the Cimarron Club? What are they hiding in there, that is so important it has to be private? ....Anthrax?
My worst nightmare, consists of a night in which I am driving by the Cimarron Club, The Juggernaut breaks down (very plausible..) and I am stranded directly in front of this "elitist" establishment. I am sure The Juggernaut, and my life, will be accosted by a hooker with a gimp, and someone else equally as hardcore (possibly Chuck Norris), before I even have a chance to bury myself under the Biscuit 'Lasses jars in the open produce market across the street.
Someone needs to get to this bottom of this. ...Someone who is not me.

On another "interesting" note: Dina has a job now. I left the nazi regime known as Ruby Tuesdays, for another equally as oppressive work environment I can sell my soul too. WAFFLE HOUSE!! Now, not only can I work from 12 in the morning until 7 in the morning, I can also get propositioned by drunken rednecks and college kids! (This is the Awful Waffle on Old Shell, therefore I will get the tanked out fratters.) ..and I can end up smelling like burned omelet and bacon grease in the process! What's not to love; aside from the aforementioned... On the bright(ish) side, I will be getting paid six dollars an hour plus tips, and I undoubtedly will have some highly entertaining stories to schlump up here. That's right, this is going to be the absolute peak of my career life. Just in the application process I saw a big man with a toothless hooker, this excited me. ...not in the traditional excitement connotation; more like, "Oh God.. That's significantly gross."

Lastly, I am very tired now. Tuesday night was spent on the phone complaining to a gay man about a sociology final. How would YOU answer this, for godssake..: Is there a hidden curriculum in the Mobile County public school system, and if so; what should we be doing to make parents aware?
Well.. since the curriculum is apparently hidden, I have really no idea WHAT the dump this means. My teacher is what is known as "an idiot" who is a firm believer in the "conservative conspiracy." I am not conservative, but everything that comes out of this woman's mouth is dripping with incredible bias that I lack the patience for.
In the wise words of Jamal from the Tribe, "CHUPAMAHULAUHPAUHA!"

p.s. I would also like to quote my wonderful grandmother, "What's the deal with these porns, anyways? I tried watchin' one, all it was was just about of grunting and sweat."
That's right MawMaw, fill me up with your wisdom.

Tonight will be spent with my lovely Psychology book.. Oh yes, you're mine ALL NIGHT, biotch.