Today Is Not Friday. It's Wednesday.

ONLY FOUR MORE DAYS. My stomach is in a constant state of butterflies because I can't fucking WAIT for the Superbowl to start. Here at the store, it's almost like Christmas time again with everyone sending their out of state relatives and friends t-shirts, hoodies and hats to wear for the game. I'm too broke to buy a shirt right now (I do have an Urlacher one though) so they better win so I can buy a Superbowl champs shirt. Emily's coming here to watch the game with me and my friends, granted that the bar we're going to still has tickets available. The bar is always shown on tv for big sports events, so if you're in Chicago, look for me making my big tv debut. It's going to be spectacular.

Only one more day of work after today and then I'm off until Tuesday, aw hell yeah. When I told my boss I needed these days off he asked "Are you going out of town?" I said "No, I have a wedding Friday and then Monday...for...the....Superbowl."
"You're going to the Superbowl?"
"No...I'm just going to be a drinking.....a lot."
He's made fun of me since then for taking the day off, but whatever. I think it's cool that I have a boss I can be that truthful too. Yes your employee does take the day off so she can celebrate properly the night before, but I'm hardcore man. Surprised you didn't know that. (John Phil, I will be very dissappointed if you don't know the line before that.)

Last night was Megan's last hurrah because she starts student teaching February 5th. Well her last Tuesday hurrah anyways, and seeing as Tuesdays are like our Fridays or something, it made me very depressed. WHY MUST SHE ACTUALLY DO SOMETHING WITH HER LIFE. God, I thought she was going to waste away as a waitress while I toiled away at the UPS Store. Who needs real jobs, at least we can still go out and get drunker than I have been in quite some time any day we want! Christ I need to grow up.

So. I saw Carey last Saturday and went home with him, but kept my chastity belt on again. When he drove me home, he still didn't ask for my fucking number. I just saw the "He's just not that into you" Sex and the City episode last week and I wish to god I hadn't because it's so true. Oh so true. Stupid fucking Sarah Jessica Parker. Reason number two I'm pissed (well I guess I'm not really "pissed" at Carey, I just feel pathetic): his friend P.J stole my Bears lighter. And then to top it off, P.J, who likes Megan, actually called her today. IMAGINE THAT, a boy calling a girl. I wish I had any idea what that was like. Assholes, the both of them.

I ordered a phone off Ebay because my phone (seriously- there is no other explanation) dissappeared right before New Years. I've been using my dad's old phone from 1973 which runs out of batteries after two minutes of talking on it - not annoying at all. I just bought a replica of the phone I lost, but it's a used one and I'm nervous that it's going to be a piece of shit. It better live up to its condition that was described as "good" - let's hope that means I can at least have a four minute conversation now.

My parents are leaving tomorrow and will be gone skiing until Sunday. How excited am I about this? Very. Very fucking excited. Only my mom won't be here Friday to help me curl my hair HOW THOUGHTLESS CAN ONE PERSON BE. A new standard has been set.

The next time I talk (type) to you bitches, the Bears will be the crowned (what now Dennis Green) Superbowl Champions. Defense always win, and Peyton Manning, you ain't got shit.

Countdown: Nine Days

1. I got my dress back Wednesday, and Diana's grandma did an awesome job on it. It's still a tad, tad big, but at least it doesn't look like I'm wearing a skirt with a giant oversize t-shirt on anymore, according to Diana. While I was at her grandma's I said, "Awesome. Now all I need is shoes and I'm set." She asked what size I wore, and then said she had a pair she was about to give to Goodwill, so I should try those. I was terrified (seems like an exaggeration, but who wouldn't be expecting something hideous, and since I can never tell the truth I would have been like "Oh my god! These are great! I love them, they're perfect!" even if they were a bright orange color), but she pulled them out and they were Pointy. Black. Just the right size heel. I was amazed. So yeah, I got my shoes from a 76 year old lady, but they're (seriously) perfect and I ain't got no money for shoes anyways. I also borrowed a purse from her. Diana's Grandma's: One Stop Shopping For All Your Wedding Attire Needs.

2. Why do we have no goddamn decaf tea in our house. Because it's freezing balls I had to have a cup while down here in the dungeon, and now I'm going to be up all night when I have to be up at 9:00 am. Yes I could just go to Jewel and buy some, but then I wouldn't get to ask my mom constantly why she doesn't buy any more, and she wouldn't get the chance to say "I'M NOT THE ONLY ONE WHO CAN BUY THE FOOD AROUND HERE." Yes you are mom, yes you are.

3. This article made me laugh really hard, especially the "What is going on with today's white nationalists?" Really guys, you gotta step it up a little bit. The guy say he's ashamed to be a neo-Nazi, and if that doesn't ring a bell with you, I don't know what will.

4. The other day, Larry, this guy who comes into the store pretty much everyday because his company has packages delivered there told me I "looked like a million bucks." It was a gross exaggeration, but made me realize how disgusting I must look every other day that I show up after having just rolled out of bed 20 minutes prior. It's amazing the difference a shower before work makes. I think it's finally starting to resonate with me.*

5. My boss owns two UPS Stores; his other one is about an hour away and he has me work there once in a great while. I fucking hate going out there - usually I leave 10 minutes before I have to be at work, and now I have to leave 60. Oh oh, but he gives me an hour of travel time! Too bad it takes two hours, going there and back, asshole. The only part I get excited about is that it's in a posh (are only English people allowed to use that word?) downtown neighborhood up north and there's an Old Navy and Borders right down the block. IMAGINE THAT. Like I don't have an Old Navy or Borders 10 minutes from my house. But whatever gets my rocks off, right? Apparently it only takes an Old Navy within walking distance of my work. Easy to please, yo.

6. I heard Joe Jackson's Steppin' Out song on the radio last week; I almost hate hearing new songs that I love now because I have no means of downloading them at all (not that it's a new song - it came out in '82). It's an awesome song though, and if you can download it, I hate you.

7. I told my date for the wedding, Tommy, that I was excited that he's tall (6'4) because I could wear heels then and not worry about looking like a giant. His reply was "Can you dance in heels?" in a real you-better-say-yes-or-I'm-gonna-be-really-pissed-off voice. I told him no worries, that my shoes would be off probably within five minutes of being there anyways. Anything to not make my 19 year old date mad at me. My dad told me Tuesday that I was robbing the cradle by taking him. Shut up dad I REALIZED THAT ALREADY.

8. nephelai0820: kris just broke my door. i locked it and she busted through
yaya5120: good lord
nephelai0820: and the knob is broke, woo hoo!
yaya5120: good thing you weren't beating off
yaya5120: OR WERE YOU
nephelai0820: haha, i was just going to say how am i going to keep them off when i play with my willy?
nephelai0820: *out
yaya5120: keeping them off your willy could pose a problem also
nephelai0820: you are wise
yaya5120: why do you think I'm the older sister
nephelai0820: lezzz-be friends

I don't talk to my sister nearly enough on AIM anymore. Oh the good conversations I'm missing out on. Quit playing with yer dinghy Ker.

9. I'm finally reading Truman Capote's In Cold Blood, I mean I only bought it three months ago, what's the rush. After this book, I'm taking some of your suggestions, plus The Corrections by Jonathan Franzen and We Need to Talk About Kevin, by Lionel Shriver. I already read The Secret Life of Bees Bill, but thanks anyway. The books you guys suggested better be good or I am going to beat some ass.

10. Do you know what COLTS stands for?
Count On Losing The Superbowl - HEY-O

*Not that I never shower, I DO. Just never before work - I'd rather get 30 more minutes of sleep. I'm glad I cleared that up because I'm sure you were all under the impression that I had never taken a shower before in my life.

Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa Bears

Brian Urlacher pointing the way to Miami.

The Bears are in the Superbowl. Each time I read or hear someone say those words, my heart does a little leap because I still can't believe it's true. Yeah, I was alive back in '86 when they won, but I was one and a half - the only memory I have of it is a shirt I won in a pool my parents put my name in. But Keri stole that shirt from me, so I guess that doesn't even count anymore (bitch). I'm pretty at the age of 22 I'll be able to remember it this time, or at least take a lot of pictures to jog my memory. I've been sure of a Bears Superbowl appearance since early this season, even requesting off from work Monday January 5th around Christmas time. Confident? You bet your fucking ass I am. I wish I could have been at the bar to watch it, but I'm kinda broke so had to settle for watching it at a friends, where I had to explain every single thing that happened on the field to my two friends I was watching it with. I thought I knew little about the rules, and trust me, I do ( I just learned what "hashmarks" are after that intentiontal grounding penalty that resulted in a safety - thanks Bro) , but I must have explained what a challenge is at least twice and also why it wasn't a touchdown each time the ball was caught by a Bears player. But why am I bitching about that, THE BEARS ARE IN THE SUPERBOWL BABY! Being a Chicagoan is pretty sweet right now. I can only hope that it'll be even sweeter come February 4th around 9:00 pm or so - watch out Colts.

The weekend of the Superbowl is probably going to be the best weekend ever because that Friday my friend Maribeth gets married, and I have off Friday through Monday. I'm still going with my friend's 19 year old brother, which might sound pathetic, but to whoever thinks that I say, shut up, I couldn't find anybody else, so shove it. Also, I love commas. I go to Diana's grandma's tomorrow to try on my dress, and hopefully it fits like a glove now, not a tent in the chest-al area like it was before (plus-sized every else but up there - I always get screwed). I'm so anxious to try it on with makeup and my hair done, ok no one cares, but I am excited. Motherfucking excited. Best weekend ever, coming up in twelve days.

The second best thing to happen this week, other than da Bears? I found my ring I lost last Tuesday. I was at the bar with Megan on Friday and wearing the same zip-up I had on Tuesday. I reached in my right side pocket, for no apparent reason and felt my ring in there. The look on my face as I pulled it out probably scared Megan, but in my mind I looked like I had just found out I won the $300 million dollar lottery. It must have flown off my finger, bounced off the car door and landed in my pocket. That sounds kind of improbable, but that's really the only explanation for it. Now that I've been given a second chance with the only piece of nice jewelry I own (except for my mom's birthstone ring), I have to get it fitted because I will be damned if I lose it again. Reunited and it feels so good.

Carey is a douche bag. I'm never talking or thinking about him again. Outloud at least, let's be realistic.

I need a good book to read. Out of the past six or seven books I've read, I've only really liked one of them. Most of the ones I didn't like were ones I had bought as opposed to just getting out from the library, so from now on I'm not buying a book until after I read it and love it. I want a book that will grab my attention and not let go until I'm done. I want a book that will make me cry and make me sad at the prospect of finishing it. I mean christ, is that too much to ask? I've been avoiding the library lately because I owe it about $20 (I should have KNOWN better than to rent a DVD from there, WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME), but I'm gonna have to suck it up because my brain is melting from the terrible books I've read lately. Give me some suggestions, or even better, pay my library fine.

It's gonna be twelve long days of Sports sections about whether Good Rex or Bad Rex will show up, Lovie and Tony being the first African-American coaches in the Superbowl (one of thems bound to win, I can just feel it) and comparisons to the '85 team. Twelve long, long days. February 4th, hurry up.

You better start makin'
Your Super Bowl plans.
But don't get ready or go to any trouble
Unless you practice
The Super Bowl Shuffle.

Since I Got A Digital Camera, You Have To Deal With Pictures Of Me. All The Time.

Here is the Very Retarded Cosby Family Christmas Potrait. Seriously, we all look like we have brain damage. You can all agree, it won't hurt our feelings. I think it's just my mom's bright ass red lipstick and my dad's horribly bloodshot eyes, cause next to them the three of us almost look like models. Not that they give us much to look better than.


Ma souer et moi. I was trying to push her out of the shot. Didn't work as well as I thought it did.


My best friend Megan and me on New Years Eve. She always looks at me like that.


I only put this on here to show off Megan's Olsen twin-ness that she was so proud of in this picture. I'm her green-eyed lady, ocean lady and she's my brown eyed girl. Even though she has blue eyes. I hope this picture was really late in the night to explain why my eyes look like they're going in different directions. There were other people at the party, I swear - it wasn't just the two of us.


Self portrait on Christmas, the day I got the camera. I have can't-shut-my-mouth-syndrome. We're working on a cure.


My friend Lauren and I some random Tuesday we went out.


That same Tuesday. I love this picture, even though I look like creepshow. And am also getting violated by Julie. It was okay though - she had been gone working in Washington D.C since August. Her tongue felt so natural there, like it had never left.


He wasn't even working last night. The first Tuesday since May that I've been to where he hasn't been there too. Goddamnit. God fucking damnit.

In other heart breaking news, I lost my turquoise ring last night. I've been bitching for the past month about how I wanted to get it fitted so I wouldn't feel like it was going to fly off my finger, especially when it's cold out, and then last night it finally happens. I'm hoping to god Lauren finds it in her car but I'm pretty sure that's not going to happen. I've had that ring since I went to Mexico man, four years ago. I am so sad. So so sad.

Last thing: Why is finding a pair of jeans that fit you like asking for the fucking moon? Everytime I got shopping for them I get angry; I don't know why I do it to myself so often. I don't have a dime to spare now, but come income tax check time, I'm getting a pair custom fitted at Levi's. And then all my problems will be solved. There will also be world peace and Rosie and Donald will be friends once again. I'm not the only one who's going to benefit from this great create-your-own-jeans invention, so you can see why it is of upmost importance.

Bears, Whining, Haircut, Tired - Sounds Like The Makings Of A Great Post

THE BEARS WON. They won! It's the first playoff game I've ever seen them win in my lifetime (well I mean of course I was alive in 1995, but don't remember watching it, I was in fifth grade), and oh my lord, it was spectacular. A nail bitter at the end, but Gouldie pulled through for us, god love him. And Rex, dude, you were great. A few mistakes here and there, but you stepped it up when it counted. You bascially told all those naysayers to shut the fuck up. I hope they listen. Watch out Saints - I know you might be "America's Team" right now, but not for long bitches, not for long. Oh man - best day of my life yesterday. Save for when February 4th rolls around I mean.

I went home with a guy a few weeks ago (J.P, don't read this. This is why I hate knowing you read this stupid blog), but didn't sleep with him because Megan convinced me it was the smart thing to do. Leave him wanting more, right? So the next time I see him (he's a bartender at a bar I go to a lot) he's decent to me, but we don't talk much, but I gave him the fact that he was working and tried not to think about it too much. Then I see him the following Saturday and he ignores me. I see him the next Tuesday and he hardly says a word to me. I spent way too much time analyzing everything I said, thinking I had creeped him out or something. ANYWAYS, he's been nice to me the past few times I've seen him, but it hasn't been anything worthwhile. So I see his friend Saturday night, and me and Meg hang out with him all night. Towards the end, without me mentioning his friend at all, he tells me his friend likes me, liked how "I didn't sleep with him the first night and thought he ruined his chances with him because he thought I saw another girl kiss him, but he's shy." My head almost exploded. What a fine way of showing me he liked me - by hardly talking to me at all. I mean I know he says he's shy, but goddamnit. I put myself out there the night I went home with him, it's not like he'd be asking me anything blindfolded with no idea what he was going into. I wanted to scream when P.J told me all that about Carey. I DON'T NEED THIS RIGHT NOW. I was finally starting to not obsess and move on, clearly getting the hint he wasn't interested. And now this. Gaaah, I just needed to get that out because I can't believe it. Can't fucking believe it. Quit messing with my head bastard.

Sorry I just needed to get that out - way too make a short story long Kate. So anyways, I got my haircut Thursday and it is delightful. It't not too different, but it's different enough and I love it. Layers, they're not as scary as you think - who knew.

Saturday I wasn't planning on going out because we were going to the bar at 11:30 am for the Bears game and I wanted to get my $40 worth. Instead I go out until 5:30 in the morning. How the fuck do I go from not going out at all it staying out until 5:30 am? I mean granted it was fun, but if I had stayed in I could have avoided a mindfuck, spending the last of my money and being so tired for the game that I came home after the Chargers-Patriots game and was asleep before my head hit the pillow at 7:00 pm. And then slept until 1:00 pm. So maybe it wasn't so bad in retrospect, but I missed Desperate Housewives. Shit bitch.

Going to the bar tomorrow. I'm hoping I might possibily have good news, but with my track record so far, let's not count on it. I will however drive myself fucking insane thinking about all of this until I get to the bar around this time tomorrow. Awesome.

You Decide

I have two Internet Explorer windows open here at work.

One is a Google search for "black pointy toe shoes" for the wedding I have coming up.

The other is ESPN, the articles for today's football games.

Am I a dude or a lady, I have no idea.

Make Me Shine

1. I love my Ipod almost as much as I love swiss cheese (and that is A LOT) but when I'm listening to it downstairs while on the computer it drives me crazy because I turn around to make sure no one is about to sneak up behind me about 56 times a minute. The fucking dog almost gave me a heart attack 15 minutes ago for christs sake. I don't know who I think is going to sneak up behind me at 2:00 in the morning considering only my mom and brother are home and they're both sleeping, but Mr. Stranger Danger is always out there lurking. Therefore, the constant checking of what could be behind me will never stop. I should've brought my nunchucks down here.

2. Thriller just came on. WHERE ARE MEGAN AND KERI WHEN I NEED THEM.

3. I've been sick for the past few days, from Sunday-Wednesday, but it's finally over. The one part that I have no problem with being sick? The losing of the weight part. I lost about five pounds over those few days, and I plan on keeping them off, no matter how unfeasible that may seem. I totally needed something like this to jumpstart my diet, and here it was, handed to me practically on a platter because of the unexplainable and weird sickness I get after I do a certain thing. I have to get this checked out. But really, maybe I should do this certain thing more often. It's doing wonders for my figure.

4. On Sunday I'm going with my Dad to the bar near my house to watch the Bears kick Seattle's ass in the second round of the play-offs. Well it's $40 all you can drink and eat, so I'll either be drunk and elated, or drunk and crying on my dad's shoulder. Let's all hope for the former. But really, come on Bears. More importantly COME ON REX GROSSMAN. Please please please let the good Rex come out Sunday. For your sake, and for the city of Chicago's sake. We will never forgive you if you fuck this up for us. At least I won't and I KNOW you don't want that on your conscious for the rest of your life.

5. I paid my first student loan today. $140 down, only $498,745.12 to go.

6. I never ended up getting my hair cut Saturday because who knew every salon closed before 4 pm on Saturdays, but I really am tomorrow. It requires me getting up at 11:00, even though I don't have work until 2:30, but I'm still planning on it. I, however, do not know what my hand will be planning tomorrow when it presses the snooze button for two hours straight, but I have slept for about 48 hours in the past four days so I think I can handle it. A big "think" there.

7. I was gonna try to write out 10 paragraphs, but then I got sucked into the fad diets article on the Yahoo! main page. Now I'm contemplating whether to try the Cabbage Soup, Apple Cider Vinegar or Maple Syrup Diet. Oh the possibilities!

I Will Grow My Own Private Branch Of The Tree

J.P and I saw the Raconteurs at the Riviera Theatre last Saturday, the 30th. Best concert ever? Might be. (As long as I'm not counting the first time I saw Bobbdy D, Neil Young or Rufus Wainwright). Best concert ever that I went to with my brother though? Definitely. They opened with my favorite song on the record, Intimate Secretary and it was awesome. I realize how astounding that must sound that I used the word "awesome" to describe it, but it really was. Plus I can't think of a better word to use. But really, Jack White is a beast on the guitar. The Raconteurs, see 'em if you get the chance. Preferably with your brother. And then go out to eat at a Mexican restuarant. Then take the train home and discover that the driver's side window on your car has been smashed in and the cd player/ radio has been taken. It wouldn't be a complete night without that ending. The driver's side window didn't even work anyways, it hasn't rolled down for 4 months, so we needed to get it fixed anyways. Take that, car-smasher-inners.

New Year's Eve was pretty fun. I didn't get to wear my new dress because Diana's grandma isn't done tailoring it, but no one was really dressed up anyways. We watched the Bears lose to fucking Green Bay (please leave Brett Farve) and then pretty much danced until 6:00 am. And I took about 300 pictures, but I'm too lazy how to figure out how to get them on my computer. Some day, maybe. Happy 2007, bitches.

Keri convinced me to get my hair cut so later today I'm getting some sideswept bangs and long layers put in. Which I will hate 3 hours later. Yet I'm still doing it to myself, I have no idea why. She tried to get me to get a dyke haircut, like she had a few years ago, but I said "no, because I am not a dyke like you were eight years ago." Keri, give it up already - the dyke haircut was never cool. It just made you look dykey.

New Year's Resolutions:

1. Lose 30 pounds. I originally had 50 pounds to lose to not lie on my liscense anymore, now it's down to 30. I will do this by June 1st. I have no idea how because I still can't even bring myself to get on the treadmill for an hour, and drink too much, but it will be mine, oh yes, it will be mine.

2. Get a new job before I go postal (UPS-al?) and shoot eveybody who comes into this store.

3. Get a car so I don't have to ask my fucking mom everytime I want to use it. Goddamnit JUST LET ME USE IT ONCE IN AWHILE. My hands are balled up in fists right now as I type that because jesus christ, she drives me insane. Yes, it is possible to type while your hands are in fists. I got your proof right here.

4. Move out of the house. See above.

5. Find a boyfriend, get married and have a baby. Everyone's invited.

Oh man, I did a bad thing last night. I started telling my sister, but had to hang up because someone was coming into the store. She ended the conversation with "I'm not happy with you." I am about to get a reaming, kids. Oh well, it was fun while it lasted. Wish me luck getting my haircut. And being a a confined space with my sister. I'm gonna need it.

Aaaaaaaaaaaand Scene

Background information: My mom made french onion dip on Christmas Eve for our Very Cosby Christmas. She also made waffles on Christmas morning. I had some of what I thought was the leftover dip on Christmas evening.

Keri: I want some of that french onion dip.
Me: It's in the orange container in the fridge, I just had some.
Keri: No, it's in this clear container.
Me: No it's not, I just ate some out of the orange container.

Keri opens clear container, which is clearing containing the leftover dip.

Me: What the fuck was I eating then? It didn't taste the best, but I ate it for at least five minutes.
Keri: I think it's waffle batter.

I run upstairs to ask my mom.

Me: Mom, what is this stuff?
Mom: Waffle batter.
Me: I JUST ATE SOME OF THAT WITH CHIPS THINKING IT WAS THE FRENCH ONION DIP.
Dad: You'll be puking later, it had raw eggs in it.

Fast forward to 8:00 am this morning: I puke my brains out. I puke out waffle batter. FUCKING WAFFLE BATTER. Goddamnit, HOW DID I GET THE TWO CONFUSED. I have to stop thinking about it or I'm going to throw up again.

..........................................................................

I got J.P tickets for me and him to see the Raconteurs at the Riviera Theatre on December 30th for his birthday/Christmas. When he came home Saturday, I realized I didn't know where I had put the tickets that had just arrived in the mail Wednesday. I was going crazy looking for them in my room, on my mom's desk and all over the house. As a last resort I looked in our paper recycling bin, and there they were. IN THE GODDAMN GARBAGE. Had it been a Tuesday, they would have been outside in the garbage can and gone forever. I am so very, very lucky. And so very, very goddamn stupid.

...........................................................................

I got a digital camera for Christmas. It was a total surpise! I had no idea I was getting it! And it is the most awesome thing ever. I also got a hair straightener from J.P, the Disney animated movie Robin Hood (jealous Bill?) from my Seeeeestor and a few other things, but those are the winners right there. It was a very good Christmas.

...........................................................................

Keri and I were running around getting my mom and dad stocking stuffers a few days before Christmas and went to Sports Authority to get my dad a Bears division winners t-shirt. It said $20 on it, but when the girl rang it up, she said "$2.67."Me and Keri were confused but weren't gonna fight the awesome price. We totally thought we got a good deal, or more likely that the computer scanner thing just fucked up the price. So my dad opens it on Christmas and goes, "Oh, nice.....it's from last year." It's from when the Bears were divison champs last fucking year. And of course it was the first thing he noticed. The most observant people Keri and I are not.

..........................................................................

The best song in the entire fucking world, don't even try to fight it: I Got the Blues by the Rolling Stones.

..........................................................................

I've learned that I'm damned if I do, and damned if I don't so I gotta take what I can get when it comes my way. I'm never going to get married if this awesome trend continues.

..........................................................................

My new diet is called "Drink Too Much Coffee Until You Feel Sick and The Thought of Food Makes You Want to Throw Up" and has been working out quite nicely this past week. Or maybe I should just eat waffle batter more often. Between the two of them I can't even imagine how I'm going to go to the bar and drink tonight, but where there's a will there's a way. Or rather when there's a Miller Lite I can't turn it down. Katie: Creating Custom Sayings For Every Occasion.

..........................................................................

Last thing in this novel: As forementioned, (is that one word? I have no idea) we had a Very Cosby Christmas on Christmas Eve which entailed drinking at the bar for the Bears game, sweet Christmas sweaters and hats, a turkey dinner, drinking and dancing to Christmas songs (I love you Mariah!) and then me ditching them to go to the bar. I am the most unphotogenic person in the entire world (seriously - you should see the rest of the pictures I'm in - but you won't), but here's everyone: Cliff, Claire, Theo, Denise and Rudy (Sondra and Vanessa were busy) in our Cosby Family Portrait. Ok, this thing is stupid and I can't get the picture to show up on here, plus my fingers are frostbitten, so I'll leave you all in suspense. We all look like retards though. I never say that word, but really that is the only word that comes to mind when I look at the pictures. A Very Retarded Cosby Christmas. I ain't politically correct, bitches.

My Dreams Is Fading Down the Railway Line

Good Rex, is that you? Could it be? Thanks for making an appearance every five games or so. Fuck yeah bitches, 11-2: what you gonna say about da Bears now. Devin Hester, you are all that is man. Miami, here we come.

At work we exchanged gifts today and I got Let It Bleed and Sticky Fingers by the Stones. My Christmas is complete. At least until I get my digital camera from my parents.

Work is actually busy now and it sucks. I get annoyed just that much easier now with customers because I've told myself since May I would NEVER be there come Christmas for the busy season, and yet here I am. WHY AM I SO GODDAMN LAZY. Jesus christ, January 1st I'm making a fucking resume, no matter how hungover I am.

Lesson learned: you can let a guy give you a ride home and make out with him in front of your house for half an hour, but when you meet him the next day, he'll be enraptured with your skinny-ass bitch best friend if you bring her out with you. Never, ever again.

Mom: It's so nice talking to you when you're not crabby.
Me: It's just cause I'm drunk right now.
Mom: I knew there had to be a reason.

Chicago Bears vs San Diego Chargers on February 4th. I'm taking bets now.

Two Memos

NFC North Division Champs, aw hell yeah. At least thanks to the defense - the offense wouldn't have even had to show up and we still woulda won 17-13. Terrible Rex Grossman, just terrible.

I totally had my ringtone "Rock the Casbah" way before that commercial came out.

That is all.

Is There Nothing I Can Say, Nothing I Can Do?

Terrible. Absolutely terrible. Five motherfucking turnovers, and we still only score 13 points? Goddamnit Rex Grossman. GODDAMNIT. Okay, so it's not soley you're fault, but good lord, whose hopes weren't dashed when we recoverd a fumble with 1:52 left, only to have you throw the ball to Asante whatever-his-name-is, HIS THIRD INTERCEPTION OF THE DAY. Watching them kneel for the last minute was tragic. Just tragic. I was so pissed/despressed/violently angry after the game, I probably would have shot anybody who tried to talk to me the first 15 minutes after it was over. I'm sure I seem psycho-like, but man, that just really sucked. A win against the Patriots totally would have legitimatized the Bears, and we couldn't pull it off. I'd love to see Griese (pronounced "Greasy" - seriously, what was his childhood like) start next week but Lovie already said Grossman's not going anywhere. So help you Rexy if you don't shape up this Sunday versus the Vikings. We win this, we win the division. Keep that in mind.

I went to jury duty for the first time this past Tuesday and actually got picked for a trial. It was kinda boring, just a civil lawsuit for a minor car accident that last three days. The lady was asking for $64,000 and we gave her $3,800. I had some hardasses as fellow jurors. It was actually pretty cool though, seeing some things actually played out that I had seen billions of times on Law & Order, like the defense attorney being a very pretty bitch, sidebars, objections and actually being on the jury myself. No Sam Waterson though. That was a dissappointment. Except for that part, totally worth the $54.60 I got and two days off of work.

Chicago and the rest of the Midwest was hit with a pretty big snowstorm yesterday and today. We were expecting at least a foot of snow, and the northern suburbs did get that much, but the Southside only got about 3-4 inches. Goddamnit Tom Skilling, you tell me I'm getting 12 inches of snow, then I want 12 fucking inches of snow. Not this slushy shit, when you were hyping it up to be the storm of the century. People that freak out around here about snow annoy the shit out of me. WE LIVE IN CHICAGO, NOT FLORIDA WHY IS THIS SO SURPRISING.

My friend Mary Beth done got knocked up and is getting hitched in February. I've been to weddings before, the latest for my co-worker in June of 2005, but this one is going to be fun. A lot of fun. Sure I might be bringing my friend's 19 year old brother as a date (it's cool, we're getting married somewhere down the line anyways, he proposed in July), but I already know he'll be the best date anyways. He's taller than me and will dance. I couldn't ask for anything more. Diana and I have vowed to lose 20 pounds by February 2nd and goddamnit WE'RE GONNA DO IT. I found a dress I want, but want to get it now in a size lower than I really fit into now. Is that just stupid, or will it be motivation? I'm pretty sure it's just stupid because it's pricey (at least for me - right now I have $71 in my account), so help me god if I don't fit into it come wedding day.

I've become kind of obsessed with the Rolling Stones. Christ, WHO KNEW they were so awesome way back when. I mean, I did, but I never believed it or thought twice about them because I fucking hate "Satisfaction". I always liked some of their other songs they play on the radio, but it wasn't until I got Exile on Main Street that I "really" listened to them, for lack of a better word. Now even songs I normally would have turned off before I turn up instead. Still not Satisifaction though. I'm not going overboard here.

I wasn't going to go out tonight cause I'm still tired from last night plus have to work at 8:45 tomorrow morning, but now I think I might have to just to get away from my mom. Can't. Stand. The. Sight. Of. Her. Or the sound; the sound is even worse. I honestly got enraged yesterday because she knocked on the bathroom door when I was in there and told me to hurry up when I had only been in there 15 seconds. We have two other bathrooms, USE THEM. Holy shit I hate when people do that. I think I have a problem.

Sorry this is lame, I started the first paragraph about the Bears Monday and am just now getting around to finishing it because of jury duty and my lack of actually using the computer here at home. I guess that's what my doing my civic duty gets you all - a shitty ass post. Maybe you should try it sometime.

Rub A Monkey's Belly On Your Head

Today here at work I've gotten $16 in tips. Fourteen from one lady who sent four faxes, who made me call two different places to get the fax numbers because her hearing wasn't very good and $2 from an old guy who only made 10 copies. I guess this disproves my theory on being indifferent to customers. If I'm nice to them, they're nice to me. WHO KNEW.

About twenty minutes ago some guy came in with his girlfriend to drop off a package. He asked "Where are you from?" and I said the little part of Chicago I'm from cause I thought he thought I looked familiar or something. He goes,
"Oh, so from Chicago?"
"Yeah."
"You sound like you're from Jersey."
"Really? I've heard I have a thick Chicago accent, but never got Jersey before."
"You're from the North side at least, right?"
"No - born and raised Southside."
"Well you definitley sound like you're from somewhere on the East Coast."

Jersey, really? I mean sometimes I like to pretend I've from Boston and said "pahhk the cahh" or something, but I doubt my desire to be from Boston came out of me when I asked, "Do you want a tracking number?" Chicago, I never meant to betray or deny you. Please don't hold this against me.

Then some creepshow who has a mailbox here asked me to go out with him because he had just gotten some birthday money. I lied and said I was seeing someone because he's, as forementioned, a creepshow. This is the same guy who asked for my number when I was home from college my freshman year, and because I'm stupid, gave it to him. He called later that night around 11:30 when I was at Megan's, asking if I wanted to go out. I said no, cause I was leaving to go back to school early the next morning and he goes, "I got some beer in my car. You don't want to have one last night of fun before you go back?" Well, when you put it that way, how could I turn you down! *

Borat, just as I was hoping it was going to be, was the greatest movie in the entire world. If you haven't seen it, do it up. I also saw Stranger than Fiction last week, which was pretty good too. Next Roger Ebert, right here.

Last Sunday the Bears were on the Sunday night game against the Giants. I went to the bar with a couple friends, and my dad was up there too which some of his. This worked out very convienently for me because whenever I ran out of beer I could just mosey on over to his table and take one from their bucket. I got plastered, very plastered, something which I really hardly ever get since I drive to the bar most of the time. I think it had to do with the one jagerbomb Marty bought me early on before the game started. My friends went home, and I stayed with my dad and his one friend who was left. I didn't even rememeber this until the next day at work (the night was coming back to me slowly throughout the day) but the night ended with us dancing to the Blues Brothers (really it was Dan and John up there!) band. Hi, my name is Katie and I like to drink and dance with my dad after Bears games. I asked my dad when I got home if I was just imagining things or we really were dancing and he goes "Hell yeah we were dancing." If that "hell yeah" doesn't make it real, then I don't know what would.

Keri comes home today, actually should be home right now, and J.P comes home Wednesday. Super Sibling (anti) Sobriety Day coming up, I CAN JUST FEEL IT. Tonight I'm going with Keri to Naperville for one of her friend's birthday's, which is going to be awesome, considering I have to be the desginated driver. And have to work at 9:00 am Saturday. Sweet.

And lastly, a strange conversation I had Sunday night with a guy I had just been introduced to, a friend of a friend:
"So your name is Katie?"
"Yeah."
"Cool."
"Thanks...I really had nothing to do with it."
"I like your eyebrows."

Well, why work on losing my enormous stomach when all the guys are really looking at my sexy-ass eyebrows. Or maybe he had nothing else to compliment me on so he picked my eyebrows. Must. Stop. Analyzing. Everything. But really, eyebrows? I guess I should take what I can get.

*I asked him how old he was going to be Saturday and he said "28". I just looked at the papers he had to fill out to get the mailbox, and he's actually turning 31. Good one, pretending to be three years younger than you actually are. Fucking idiot.

If anyone can name what book the title of this stupid post is, you are all that is man. And it doesn't count if you get it Keri - you already are a man. Also, for all of you that whined and moaned that my brother never updates his blog, check it out now, bitches.

Put On Your Red Shoes

I'm going to visit Keri this Saturday-Monday. I could have been there Friday-Monday, had I not been a pussy and caved when my boss asked me to work from 9am-12pm Saturday morning, even though I had already taken off. Yeah yeah, it's only three hours, but it blows nonetheless. Also, here at the store? They want us to start decorating for Christmas already. If someone comes in here within the next week wanting to send out Christmas presents, I will assassinate them. Christmas can NOT start being celebrated before Thanksgiving. If someone ran for office on that platform alone, I would vote for them. They would not win, but I would vote for them.

Halloween was a bewitchingly (yeah I made a word up, what now) good time. My friend Mary had a party Saturday that a lot of people ended up coming to depite it being in kinda-sorta-bufu. Steve, this guy I went on a date with over the summer was there, the first time I had seen him since August or so. He tried calling me two or three times afterwards, but I never answered the phone, because I'm a horrible person. (Plus he was the absolute worst kisser in the entire world. And he was shorter than me. But mostly because I'm a terrible person.) So I saw him, said hi, how are you doing, and we were civil. Awkward, yet civil. Then later on I start talking to this really nice, funny guy, George. Who I find out is one of Steve's best friends. Sometime during the night Steve clued him in as to who he was talking to, and once George found out, he said, as per Rich, Diana's boyfriend and also Steve's good friend (are you following me?) "Fuck that bitch." Wow. Nice. Not like I didn't deserve it, that's not the case by any means, but I didn't need to actually hear it. Goddamnit, now that's all I can think of - "Fuck that bitch". I want to call Steve and apologize to him, but I don't want it to look like I have an ulterior motive. I know there's people out there who don't like me, or think I'm a bitch, I'm not delusional, but it sucks ass actually hearing it. I am a terrible terrible person.

We went to the bar on Halloween, our usual Tuesady night place. The bartenders there are always really nice, giving you a free drink after you buy three or four. This time it was so crowded we were double-fisting (oh yeah), and I went up to get four Miller Lites. The guy gave me four for $5.50, which is the normal price for two beers, and which was also very lovely of him considering it was the first beers I had gotten from him all night. Later that night after last call, I went up and thanked him for the two free ones and he told me no problem because, and I quote, "You always come up and ask with a smile on your face. I kinda have a crush on you." You have no idea how nice this was the hear, because I've been told numerous, NUMEROUS times that I never smile, and always look pissed when I'm at the bar. I actually had someone in a band shine a fucking FLASHLIGHT on me one time and ask "Why aren't you having a good time?" after I had just been laughing with Megan about how people say that to me all the time. I wanted to stab that guy in the face when he did that. But, all that is water under the bridge now cause some nice, and cute, may I add, bartender has a crush on me because I'm always smiling. Fuck yes bitches. Bartender's at Rhino: 1 Lameass bands with flashlights: 0

My parents leave tomorrow for a one week trip to Arizona. Not only are they not leaving me the Expedition, but the drivers side window on the car doesn't work so I can't take advantage of smoking in it while they're gone. Is my life awful or what.

I'm 99.99% sure I'm going to get paid tomorrow, but that 0.01% is scaring me because if I don't get to see Borat tomorrow, so help me god. Also, so help everyone who will have to deal with me and my Borat-induced rage.

Better Sophia?

That Makes About A Baker's Dozen Bob

Da Bears da Bears da Bears da Bears da Bears da Bears da Bears da Bears.

Hear The Beat Of The Tambourine

-Going to Ohio tomorrow with my mom to visit my brother. So super ass excited to get drunk with my brother bear and his frat buddies. Plus we get to drive the Expedition down there. Yeah boy.

-David Bowie as the Friday Feature on 93.1 XRT and eight hours later here at work, still no Let's Dance? What the fuck.

-I saw The Departed (as a date with a lepruchan) and Little Miss Sunshine (with my mom, for Mother's Day - better late than never) this week. I don't go to a movie for almost an entire year then I see two in two days. Both were really good, but do yourselves a favor and see The Departed. It's good. Really fucking good. Up next? Borat. Can't wait.

-I got a nice chunk of change (yes I am aware of how queer that sounds) from my aunt for babysitting two of her kids the past two weeks. I basically got paid to watch the Gilmore Girls and Seventh Heaven everyday (seriously, who knew I had so much in common with a nine year old), make Halloween decorations galore and take them out to dinner each day. Or amaze them with my magic culinary skills for macaroni and cheese and chicken nuggets. Seriously, I've never seen kids more excited about mac and cheese before. Works for me.

-I bought Stop Making Sense by the Talking Heads yesterday. Sweetass.

-I've already gotten to the point in my life where I don't care what I look like when I dance. I thought that wouldn't hit til I was a mom, but I am so glad it hit me earlier. My friends maybe aren't as excited about it, but shit bitch, if I knew how much fun it was I would have stopped caring a longass time ago. White girl dancing, watch out.

Yes I Am Nitty, Gritty And My Shirt's All Torn, But I Would Love To Spill The Beans With You Til Dawn

It's a Thursday night, and I'm on my aunt's computer, watching Oprah talk to actresses 50 and over about "aging brilliantly". While the rest of my friends are out taking advantage of $1.25 bottles. Goddamnit. This babysitting business hasn't been bad at all, but I'm ready for it to be over so I can resume my normal going-to-the-bars-five-times-a-week life. My last night is tonight, praise jesus.

One of the proudest moments of my life did happen last week though - I helped Maeve study for her spelling test. All the words were homophones (is that the right word?), like dear and deer, steel and steal ect., and she was having a lot of trouble with some of those. But you know what she got on the test? 97%, motherfuckers. She is going places someday, and most likely it will be thanks to aceing that spelling test.

I went to Borders today (while the kids were at school, you know, I needed my "me" time) and bought three books. Running with Scisscors (Augusten Burroughs), The Memory Keeper's Daughter( Kim Edwards) and A Long Way Down (Nick Hornby). Can't beat those 3 for 2 deals. Book reports by at least the end of the month, promise.

I bought jeans at the Gap two weeks ago in a size I haven't fit into since high school. It's still not a size to brag about by any means, but at least shopping for pants doesn't suck ass as much anymore. I'm sure the Gap just ups the sizes to "make you feel good about yourself" as my friend Megan put it, but I'm blocking that out of my mind. I've been slacking hardcore and really haven't lost any weight in the past few months, but I'm rejoining Weight Watchers next week, hopefully. Only 30 more pounds and then I won't be lying on my liscence anymore! Must count points and go on treadmill EVEN IF IT KILLS ME. Also, must turn into a caveman.

Sweet jesus White Sox. I had "stopped believing" (sorry Steve Perry) about a month ago, but it was still a major disappointment to not get into the play-offs at all. Ok, I'll admit it. I teared up once. ONCE. I said I would root for the Twins or Tigers, but inside I am so fucking happy that the Twins are down 0-2 against the A's and kind of pissed the Tigers tied it up today 1-1. You know what my major silver lining is though? The Bears being 4-0 right now. Fuck yes bitches, the Bears defense is DOMINATING every single offense that gets in their path this year. And Rex Grossman? Me and the rest of the city of Chicago are thanking god you were worth the wait. Just keep it up for the rest of the season. Don't pull an '05 Colts on us though - I don't think we could handle it. Everyone's saying you guys have a lot to prove against the Bills Sunday, and you do. Don't fuck it up.

I'm being a pirate for Halloween. Arrrrr matey.

Drop Your Reds, Drop Your Greens And Blues

1. Best book in the entire world, September edition: Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close by Jonathan Safran Foer. I started this book at work on Friday and knew I was going to love it by page 30. I planned on staying in to read it, but around 12:30 am Megan talked me into a 40 and a few beers, but she left by 4:30 and I finished it by 6:30. So good. So fucking good. I got out Foer's first book, Everything is Illuminated, which I had heard about before, but I can't get into it. I totally ruined it for this book by reading Extremely first. I will finish it, but holy shit. Read this book immediately.

2. Best good-lord-why-did-it-take-me-so-long-to-discover-this album: Exile on Main Street by the Rolling Stones. I really can't stand most Stones song, save for Miss You, Emotional Resue, Beast of Burden, Sway and one or two others, but for the past month I was obsessed with their song Sweet Virgina. I found out it was on Exile, so I bought it, and lo and behold, and the whole fucking album is awesome. I can't stand the Stones nowadays; the best word that comes to mind when I think of them is "travesty", courtsey of Jason Mulgrew, and I couldn't agree more. But Exile on Main Street - farthest thing from a travesty as you are ever going to get.

3. The family dog, Bailey, is a giant pussy when it comes to thunderstorms. She's not allowed upstairs in our rooms any other time, but my mom will allow exceptions when it's storming out. Yesterday it wasn't even thundering, just some random lightning and a little rain, but Bailey would not stay downstairs and kept following me around (I'm the only one home, my parents are on vacation). I shut my door on her to go to bed, but then I turned into the giant pussy and let her sleep on my floor. I know, I'm practically Mother Theresa. You have no idea how much I hated myself for feeling guilty. This is me we're talking! I hate dogs! With a passion! Especially Bailey! And yet I FELT BAD FOR A DOG (who does that?), caved, and let her sleep in my room. Goddamnit.

4. This having my own car and house to myself? I'm pretty sure I could get used to it. Of course my real own place will be much better because there will not be a DOG there or 400 plants I have to water every other day (yet have only done once so far) but this'll do for now. I just hope my parents don't freak out too bad when they find out I changed the locks.

5. My friend Diana and I decided we're going to get an apartment together in May. I mean first we have to get better jobs, save up and sign the lease, but those are just minor details compared to what color scheme our front room is going to be and the end tables we'll have. Glorious glorious endtables. Diana is the one person (besides Keri, who I'm sure will practically live with us anyways) I could see living with because even though we fight like a married couple, I think that will work to our advantage. I can tell her straight up when she's annoying me, or I'm mad at her, and we fight, but it'll be over an hour later. This could turn out very bad, but she likes to clean, but isn't as anal as Emily, is kickass at decorating, loves cooking and already agreed not to hang up her "hippie shit" in the front room. This could be the start of a beautiful relationship.

6. I can't even remember the last time I saw a movie in the theatre (maybe Walk the Line?), but it was awhile ago. Not that there's never movies I want to see, there is all the time, I just never actually go see them. All that will change in November when Borat comes out. I saw the trailer for it the other day on youtube.com and I'm pretty sure it's safe to say it will be the greatest movie ever. Of all time. From here until eternity. Maybe even greater than Citizen Kane - WHO KNOWS.

7. Oh good lord. Some lady just called work because she couldn't get the tape dispenser she bought here at the UPS Store to work. I'm quitting tomorrow.

8. If the Bears play like this every game for the rest of the season, we're going to the Super Bowl. Hands down. I guarantee it.

9. My (rich) aunt and uncle are going to Italy for two weeks starting the 26th. They have five kids, three of which are in college and then a nine and twleve year old. Seamus, the 12 year old is a douche, but I've dealt with worse. Maeve, on the other hand, is my favorite cousin and is the biggest sarcastic smartass you could ask for in a nine year old. She's awesome. My aunt needs a baby-sitter to see them off to school and then be there from 2:30 on when they get home. She is going to pay me $100 a day to do this. Plus I'll still be able to work from 8:30-2:00 pm most days, and won't be spending money at all either, since I'll pretty much be living there. I am going to be rich. Very very rich. Well at least by 22 year old standards. Just in time for those student loans too. Great.

10. And finally, I am sad to report that our bigass van my parents have that seats 12, died in Wyoming. That van was good to us, carting my Girl Scout troop to whatever the fuck we did as girl scouts, moving me into the dorms and two different apartments, countless roadtrips all over America and embarassing me severely the one time I drove it to the bar (I was desperate, ok? The guy I was meeting there called and said "come down this block, there's a spot right behind me" and I said "um, no, I don't want you to see me driving this. I'm parking on Campbell".) Instead we have a brand new red 2006 Expedition. Which I will never be able to drive. Awesome.

August 20, 1985 - Twenty One Years Later

Saturday Night:



I wore my pirate shirt just for you.



I forgot Brian Urlacher showed up with his claws.



I bet you totally remember what I was telling you. And totally cared. You look concerned.



Five minutes later. Ah, sweet crusty beer-soaked hair.



Well you were awake for at least two minutes on the bus.



You probably hate me for posting this picture, but what's that? I don't care. I know I said I would hold your hair for you if you puked, but I really didn't have a chance to cause of all that projectile vomitting you did without warning on the bus. Please forgive.



Sexy passed out hooker.



You want some McDonald's? You look like you want some McDonald's.

Sunday Night:



We made t-shirts on Sunday (9 of us, we're cool). Keri was "21 and still self-lubricating" (don't act like you're not impressed) and I'm "no longer her beer bitch". Praise jesus.



Keri was turning 21. Just incase you forgot. Christ I look like a barge.



The uniform of the night was gaucho pants and the t-shirts and apparently I was really happy and excited about it!



Good lord that was funny. "How did you guys get up there so fast?" We walked around it, douche bag. With age you will learn the wisdom Apryl and I have already, my little grasshopper. Or you could just listen to Apryl next time.



You had finally given up on putting the balloon back on the stick and I had taken to hitting you with it. A good time had by all.



Sexy and classy end to the night.

I think we did Keri's 21st birthday justice. Or at least she did. Puking on a bus will do that to you. You even made it to your 9 am class on Monday. You really are maturing with age, which dissappoints me a little but I'll learn to deal with it if you promise to never stop getting drunk with me. Even if we're forced (eventually it'll happen) join AA. Aight? Aight. My little sister's finally 21! We have more options than Dingbats now! I can stiff you money when you buy cases for the both of us! Oh sweet sweet revenge. (Yeah yeah I know you usually paid me, but I was totally your sugar bitch this summer, so suck it.) Happy Birthday Seeeeeestor.

Beauty Walks A Razor's Edge, Someday I'll Make It Mine

Jenn texted me the other day and told me to post. Now I'm feeling the pressure and can't think of anything to white about. I could whine about how my sister left me on Monday to go back to school and then Wednesday my friend Julie left for Washington D.C for a year. In about 48 hours I was deserted by both of the people who were willingly to go to the bar with me at any given moment. This means no more Wednesdays at Dingbats, Thursdays at Bourbon Street and any other random night they would go with me. Not that I don't have other friends willing to go with me BUT I WANT JULIE AND KERI. This me staying at home business while my sister and friends move/go back to school? I am not a fan.

I'm glad to report The Saga of Katie's Library Card That Took Way Too Fucking Long to Get is finally over: I got it two weeks ago and it was a joyous occasion. I wish I was kidding about how excited I got when I saw it in the mail. Now if only I don't fuck it up and never return the books I took out, that would be great. Someone remind me to take them back on the 22nd.

Keri turns 21 on Sunday. I am really excited about this already, don't get me wrong, but it feels like she's 21 already anyways since we went to the bar together all the time and has been using my ID (and getting it with it) the whole summer. It's probably just going to feel like a normal time at the bar with her, only I will have to buy her a lot to drink and then hold her hair later as she spews (if you're going to spew, spew into this) everything she drank all over the (fingers crossed) bathroom. I got yo back sista.

So of course nothing ever materialized with that guy I gave my number to. Of course not! I mean, not like I kept hoping for three weeks either! That would be pathetic! God, what fucking karma for going on two dates this summer with another guy, and then never answering his phone calls again because he was the worst kisser in the entire world. What did I expect to happen. This is my way of justifying it, by the way, Jeff won't call me because I was a bitch to Steve, so just go with it.* It could never just be because he doesn't like me, I have to blame it on the cosmic doings of the universe. Or something like that. As long as I can pretend it's beyond my control. What the fuck am I talking about.

My parents are going on a 2 week vacation starting Labor Day, but I can't go with (not like I was invited anyways) because I have to watch the dog. That's basically why my parents were cool with me moving home. So I could be the dog sitter while they traispe the United States in our big ass van. It's good to feel loved. So anyways, big two week party/rave/orgy at my house starting September 4th. Bring your glow sticks.

I have something to admit. I, self-admitted Dave Matthews Band hater for as long as I can remember, am going to a DMB concert in September. BEFORE YOU JUDGE ME, keep in mind I haven't been to a concert all summer and my friend Kelly is a real sweet talker, who could sell ketchup to a lady wearing white gloves (Wayne's World and Tommy Boy references in this post, I am all that is man). I don't like that I'm going to this concert anymore than you do, but goddamnit I will ENJOY (suffer through) IT AND HAVE FUN (get drunk) IF IT KILLS ME.

Let's go White Sox. I don't want to be the goddamn wild card. You take the series with the Yankees (hey-o John), sweep the Tigers and then split 2 and 2 with the Royals? Jesus christ. It's getting down to the wire, so stop fucking up. If that's not a morale booster, I don't know what is.

If you're out drinking Saturday or Sunday night, say a cheers to Keri in all her finally-21-goodness. Have a good weekend bitches.

*Sidenote: I saw Jeff this past Saturday, and we didn't talk, but later that night I had a dream that my uncle's dog talked to me. A dog will talk to me, but Jeff won't? Goddamnit. No, I do not read too much into my dreams.