Hello gentle readers from all over the globe (shout out to that person in Taipei, Taiwan who googled "pole dance porn" and landed here – surprise, no porn). I'm going to be out of town for a few days, but have been assured there will be wi-fi, so hopefully I'll get bloggy with it.
Until then, some randomeness.
When I got my new driver's license last week, I totally screwed up a line on the eye chart and the DMV lady said, "try closing one eye and read it," so I did. I obviously still got it wrong and she said, "uh, that's good enough." She didn't even ask me to put on my glasses, she just gave it to me. This is why we have people on the roads who can't see. Do you really want people closing one eye to see the road to drive?
For some reason I cannot say "no" to people and tell telemarketers to call back when I know I will not be home.
I went to the car wash with a coffee shop today and heard a 20-something girl say "I hate non-fictional movies."
Why can't you drive-thru somewhere and get toilet paper? Can someone open a general store by my house with a drive-thru?
The coffee shop guy didn't put the lid all the way on my iced coffee and it spilled all over my shirt. When I got home I realized I had worn my camisole inside out all day.
"Man in the Mirror" has haunted me this week. It was in one of my dreams. It was on in the coffee shop. Twice it has been a song in a game on Song Pop.
Do you play Song Pop? It's like Name That Tune. I've concluded that I do not know any part of the song "Stairway to Heaven" unless it's the part that says the title. I am not a Zepplin fan. Shocking, I know.
Today my nail tech said, "how was Florida? You're not tan" to me. I am a freckly white woman who does not tan. Was I supposed to come back the shade of Beyonce?
When I watched the Beauty and the Beast show at Disney World, I was singing the ghetto version the whole time in my head. Hey LaWasha, hey LaDrya.
I bought two gallons of frozen margaritas for the weekend because I believe it's important for my friends and me to stay hydrated while scrapbooking.
CMT (which stands for some kind of Country MTV) will soon be debuting a show called REDNECK INTERVENTION. Yes, you read that correctly. Each week a former redneck is confronted by friends and family members that believe he or she should return to their country roots, in this one-hour, eight-episode reality series. I am not making this up.
I have taken my Ambien for the night and better sign off before I stop making sense, as if this thing ever made sense in the first place. Something about unicorns. Zzzz.