badest man in the whole damn town

My dad referred to me as a "he" the other day. I guess it's not that bad considering he once called my sister dennis. we don't even know a dennis. i always told myself i was the son chas never had. in fact, they took me out early expecting me to be a 12 pound boy. sorry to disappoint, chas. call me a he all you want.

one time i had a horrible headache and we didn't have any medicine in the house. chas said he found a first aid kit while cleaning in the basement. i asked how old it was. he said brand new. the medicine expired before i was born.

speaking of mistaken identities, i've been tempted to look up the man whose white mini-van i accidentally stole my freshman year. if anyone remembers the poor unfortunate mans name, let me know. i bet he's still wondering how his ride went from heritage lot to so-ho. sucker.

calling all hawties! if you're interested in being my date to aprox. 3,000 weddings, please apply via facebook message. on second thought, screw the application. the only requirement is that you do not consider a dress shirt tucked into basketball shorts "fancy clothes". i am an equal opportunity employer.

people constantly tell me how short i am. im an easy going gal, so i don't offend when you call me a munchkin, short fry or midget. but, please! it is never ok to tell someone they are shorter than danny divito. pure heartbreak. the unforgivable sin. (for the record, i am two inches taller and much more attractive. he is, however, damn good in its always sunny. to that, i will never compare.)

my parents bought a karaoke machine at a rummage sale. life is good when you find your 62 year old father singing about two counts behind to bad,bad leroy brown. he still has a long way to go, but i am very excited for when he is ready to preform lady gaga's bad romance. tickets will be sold. popcorn will be popped. biggest show to hit the valley in years. look out.

goodbye, my little cabbage.

people say they miss my blog. sorry about that. 12 hours of sleep is very important to me.

i have a job. that's all i'll say for now.

yesterday on my way to said job, i saw the single greatest thing in the world: a man jogging wearing an entirely denim outfit. everyone knows how much i like jean on jean (especially when the washes are the same) but add that to uncomfortable physical activity and you have brought jean on jean to a whole new level. i will never forget 5/12/2011. thank you denim jogger.

my beverage consumption is up by at least 50%. my adult beverage consumption is down by at least 90%, unless you are like ann malmquist and consider coffee an adult beverage. if that's the case, i'll go ahead and say i drink a butt-load of coffee.

speaking of butt-loads, what does that mean? is a butt some sort of measuring tool? shouldn't we say colon-load? i won't argue about it too much, as it is a staple in my vocab, but you'll never see me measuring out ingredients for cookies using my butt...that is for sure.

adios, ma petit chou.