I Can't Cook.

Surprisingly good: a kaiser roll with cream cheese on it.

Also surprising is that I even had bread and cream cheese to start.

Sleepy.

I've come to the conclusion that I am an extremely lazy sleeper. If I am asleep in my bed (or the floor where some drunken adventures may lead me) it pretty much takes a natural disaster for me to move.

Exhibit A: My bed faces a 5' x 6' window (I'm guessing at the size, but if I wanted to off myself and jump out, there would be no need to slouch) and every morning there is a blinding amount of sun. Now after living in a basement with no windows, this is extremely welcome, but that sunlight is crazy hot. Every morning I wake up covered in sweat and have to kick the blankets around to get to a nice sleeping temperature. Instead of having to get up to shut the blind OR just in case I may have to move to get the blanket that is now on the floor, I have decided to just sleep with the window open. I shiver myself to sleep instead of having to get up at 6 am and shut the blinds.

Exhibit B: If I have to pee, you best believe that my back teeth better be floating in it before I'll be motivated enough to move. I'd rather stay half awake for an hour willing my bladder to fall asleep then take three minutes to go to the bathroom.

Exhibit C: I used to use an actual alarm clock, but having to move to check the time was too much work for sleepy me so I solved this problem by sleeping with my cell phone in my bed. Also sad, I set the alarm to make noise and vibrate so when the alarm does go off, I can hear/feel where it is with minimal movement.

And god forbid, something fall into the crack between the bed and the wall like my pillow. Screw you pillow, I'll just use my arms, you are waaaay too far away.

Motivation!

I was really sick of the pinkness of this blog and I finally motivated myself to travel over to the template tab, and pick a new one.

However, I'm still working on the motivation to post something.

Gross.

You know what really grosses me out? Girls/women with calf tattoos.

I don't know why but I just think they are so gross and trashy. When I see someone with one, I automatically judge them. I'm pretty darn judgmental already, there is no need to add a disgusting tattoo in the mix.

It's even worse when the tattoo is on a really pasty and pale calf too. I just cringe and start constructing a story about how you lived in a trailer park, and after you got your first job working as a stripper down by the airport, you decided to get that flower/dolphin disaster on your calf to celebrate your freedom. BIG MISTAKE! Next thing you know you've been fired and are forced to work night shifts at Denny's where an obese trucker will woo, marry and then beat you. And all because you got a tattoo that grossed me out...

Twitter.

Okay, I know it's all cool and trendy right now, but I'm just going to go out on a limb and share my feelings because I seriously don't care if it's hip.

I think Twitter is dumb.

Really dumb.

89% of the people who Twitter should not. (and that's me being generous) Who gives a fuck about what you are doing that much? And if someone does care, that's creepy, and you should avoid that person because they are a stalker, and will probably trap you in their apartment, and try to harvest your hair follicles to try to make a baby with you.

For reals, this happens. I watch Lifetime.

Thus stop twittering, and go outside. Okay?

Fun Fun!

Okay, even though I'm totally failing in my blogging goal and Domenica is kicking my ass, I started a separate blog to bitch about Lost. Please check it out here: http://idontcareaboutthefourtoedstatue.blogspot.com/

Hopefully I can manage a post a week there, but no promises...

Italian.

Okay, restaurant industry big business companies, that's enough. First Olive Garden claims that people should bring their relatives from Italy to Olive Garden because their food is so deliciously authentic and tastes just like Italy, and now fucking Pizza Hut is claiming that their lasagna is so delicious that a whole restaurant full of Italians instantly loved it and thought it came from a master Italian chef.

Oh, yes, anything you throw a vat of pre-prepared tomato sauce on instantly equals delicious home cooked Italian meals. Italian grandmothers everywhere are smacking themselves with wooden spoons for not realizing this sooner.

Idiots.

Sudoku.

Sometimes I super greatly enjoy my sister. A selection from an IM convo:

[14:29] Sister: ur so smart
[14:29] Sister: no matter what daddy says
[14:31] Sister: seriously

Aroo?

Seriously, Disney has eggs?

Why?

ETA: Look, other people are confused too! http://jezebel.com/5146148/disney-eggs-theyre-eggs-by-disney

Fuck You, Penguin.

This might be my favorite website EVER. Seriously, I don't who writes it, what sex they are, what they look like, smell like or believe in, but I would marry them in an instant. We could look at pictures of animals and they'd make snarky comments, and I'd just laugh and laugh, and occasionally make Ellio's pizza or Eggo waffles for us both.

Heaven.

Restart.

So my beautiful and intelligent cousin Domenica has been assigned the task of keeping a blog, and writing in it three times a week for a class assignment. In a show of sisterly solidarity, I'm going to try to match her three.

We'll see if I can do it. I'm kind of leaning towards no, but I enjoy a challenge. Plus I don't think anyone checks this anymore which is oddly inspiring since I can say whatever the hell I want. Woo!