I want a taco.

I have two new rejection letters to add to my collection of proof of failure at life. Pretty soon, I'm going to be able to wallpaper something with them all. However, I also have a telephone chat, an interview and a breakfast meeting to add to the potentially going to be added to my collection of proof of failure at life collection.

On a happy note, I do get to Disneyworld for 3 days for my mom's XX birthday. She can no longer claim to be 29 since her children are 25 and 22 so we are just doing X's now. Yay for wholesome family fun and $59 Southwest airfare!

Oklahoma!

I'm not dead. I just have nothing to say. Well, really nothing positive to say. I have a lot of blog entries saved where I just bitch a lot, but they are pretty boring.

Anyone have any suggestions of interesting things I could discuss?

Moo.

I Spy.

Okay, so apparently this whole PR thing isn't working out. Any suggestions as to what career I can fail at before I even get to start next? I think I'm going to aim low and go for like a elementary school bus driver.

Everyone should visit Sweaty Robot because it is funny and you will laugh. If you don't laugh, you are not in the "target demographic" and I didn't mean for you to visit. Sillies. After you laugh, pass it on to other people who like to laugh because laughing is fun, but not sharing laughing causes you to lose an eye or possibly an arm. I think Harris Malden is my favorite although I have LOLed at all of the videos.

I fail at being a girl, Part 356

I really wanted some grilled cheese today so I decided to go make myself some because I am an independent woman. (Throw your hands up at me.) I have made grilled cheese before, but I didn't really remember the proper cheese grilling procedure. I just decided to wing it. And of course, I failed miserably. I kinda sorta left the pan on the stovetop unattended and when I came back the entire pan was filled with flames. I put a lid on it to smother the raging fire, but the sandwich was lost forever. After I pried the cheesy goo and burnt sangwich off, this is what remains of the pan:



My whole house smells like burning. The burnt sandwich was buried in the family trash can. RIP My cheesy buddy

Thriller.

Today it took me nine minutes to eat one pretzel.

They hurt my teeth.

It's Wednesday.

Sigh.

Cowboys Make Better Lovers.

I saw Brokeback Mountain this weekend. Twice. It was really fucking good. I don't normally gush about movies too much, but it was one of the best movies I've seen. It kept my complete attention the entire time even despite sitting on the floor in the aisle the first time I saw it and immature assholes laughing and making jokes throughout the second time. I shushed them like a mom at one point though.

The story is really well told and well acted. I cried like a big girl both times. Heath Ledger (Side Bar: I totally love 10 Things I Hate About You) and Jake Gyllenhaal were perfect and Michelle Williams has come a long ass way from her Dawson's Creek days. Plus it's just a pretty movie. I don't know anything about movie technical stuff, but the scenes were very postcard-esque. Like the images on screen were set-up and organized well like a photograph. I don't know what that is called in the film world or if that even makes sense.

Everyone should go see it and not be stupid assholes about it being "gay."