brown chicken, brown cow.

Who blogs at 9 a.m. on a Sunday morning? This girl. Because I woke up at 7 a.m., missing my Sunday morning hangover and in a pissy mood.


I've talked about my love for National City before. It doubled on Friday. I was in the drive thru, listening to the mixed CD of girly dance around songs that Michelle sent me in a care package this week. It was probably a little louder than it needed to be, but I didn't think much of it. Don't stop believing was on. I was zoned out thinking about the Sopranos ending, when I heard a male voice on the bank's intercom sing, "Hold on to that feeeeel-iiiing!" The most awesome-est bank teller ever was really belting it out. So, i giggle and turn the music down, he tells me to turn it up. We had a pleasant moment with journey. He gives me my money and says, "this is really cheesy, but don't stop believing!" Cute. Then I went to get my eyebrows waxed and the waxer gave me an entire run down of my personality based on my birth date and my parent's signs. It was the most pleasant conversation I could have had while having hair ripped out by the roots. Scorpios are nuts, we really are.

And, Ramie, you will enjoy this. Because of the apparent sign on my back that says "All creeps, this girl will not want to hurt your feelings if you were brave enough to talk to her, so have at it," I had the biggest dozy of a pick up line last night. The boy tramped HARD on my foot. Like, today I have a faint bruise. So I yelp and balance on one leg while inspecting the pain (I don't know why humans do that, if something hurts on our body, we like to hold it at awkward angles) and he's all, "Oh, I am so sorry. I'm Chris. Do you want to exchange insurance information?" Totally did it on purpose. He must have just watched the pick up artist. Then he's like, "you know what's weird? Girls don't ever buy guys a drink (okay, so abuse my foot and then ask for a hand out) why don't you buy me one and i will buy yours," and I am like, I'll get my own drink if I want one, and he says, but then we won't have a connection. Now I KNOW he's a student of the pick up artist. I saw him at the end of the night, being pushed, almost carried by a mob of other boys, right out the door. Apparently, some other girls are much less tolerant of the foot tramp than I am and had their boyfriends handle the mess.

So, from now on, this is my brilloface and Ramie, you are my wing girl:

Also, you guys are pretty safe if we ever get stuck in a blizzard. There is only a 39& chance I would eat you for dinner. Its not so much that I don't think you all would taste delicious, its more the blood and guts factor. Thanks, Brandon, for that website. Its a big hit at the office. On Thursday, people would just pop up from their cubicles and say, "19! I could take on 19 five-year-olds in a fight, that is amazing!" One staffer was so excited. He got 25.

Totally going to get some McDonald's breakfast!