Lil’ Thoughts

  • Halloween costume idea: owl dressed as Hooters girl.
  • For those who find Beardtober and Novembeard exclusionary, may I present: No Leg Shave November. Because an unruly neckbeard is just as offensive and gag-inducing as a stubbly-legged lady.
  • Message for Dove Heat Damage Conditioner: uh, work? My hair looks like the kind of hay that goes up in flame around here when someone sneezes. I don’t want to get arrested for arson the next time I feel the urge to enjoy a cigarette.
  • Dogs make great blankets.
  • Two years seems like a really long time. Waiting for the end, you feel the ebb and flow of the speed of every moment, even when you’re “in it.” But sometimes you drive home late at night, and the swirling clouds spinning over the navy sky seem to make it stretch forever. And you say, “Cool. It’s not so bad.”
  • I can’t help but think, every time I see this, that it’s gonna come back to bite us in the ass.
  • Making your bed isn’t that overrated. Sorry mom.
  • A two-hour time difference coupled with waking up at noon means I have like zero time to get anything done or talk to my parents. Awesome.
  • I wish houses came with white boards, like dorm rooms do. Someone frantically rang my door bell at 10:30 this morning, and I was not about to get up for that. But out of curiosity, I did—but just a little too late. Now I’ll never know who it was. Or what they wanted. Will they come back? What if they had a gift for me? The tension of mystery the world must have felt before telephones seems all too overwhelming. Thank you, Bell Atlantic.
  • Note to self: lunch meat does not fall victim to the Pumpkin Rule. Just because you buy a pound of salami in one day doesn’t mean you have to eat it all before the stroke of midnight.
  • Note to self: get heart exam.
  • I don’t mind saying that I thrive on compliments. Ahem.
  • I hope “30 Rock” means that more girls will grow up to be like Liz Lemon instead of Heidi Montag. This will give me significantly better odds at having more lady friends.
  • Above bullet mostly a dream. Every girl is just growing up to be Miley Cyrus. I blame the hair straightener. (See: “Message for Dove Heat Damage Conditioner”)
  • No concise message about life to end this post. In retrospect, could have reorganized to make that happen. I like it better this way.
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