the tides have their little secrets that whisper me to sleep. could they carry my weakness away so i can simply drift away in my sunken state?

1. bring me the person who thought it would be a fantastic idea to park their construction dump truck in the right lane of e18th with nothing more than a right blinker on, so that everyone that approaches the glorious dump truck assumes it's making a right turn, gets behind it, and is then stuck because the fucking thing is going no where. where's it going? no where. yea, bring him to me...i must add his balls to my awesome collection.

2. my work hasn't been giving me much to do as of late. thus, i haven't been doing much work, which pretty much means i haven't been filling out my time sheets which are required to get paid. translation: i haven't gotten paid because i've done maybe twenty hours of work for them in the two weeks i've had the little jobby job. i'm contracted on a weekly salary that mandates eighty hours per week....so, my eighty hour a week salary pro-rated to twenty hours is pretty much enough to pay for a tank of gas and buy some gum (okay..it's a little more, but you get the point)...so i don't see the point in billing them. everyone i've talked to, including my parents, says i'm being absurd and that i should bill them...because if i were in the office sitting and doing absolutely nothing i would be getting paid regardless. they have a point...i also would have found another job had i known i wouldn't be getting anything to do for the current one. uch, something just feels so wrong about it though. damn my fucking conscience, damn it to fucking hell.

3. i ask this in earnest: is there anyway to moisturize your ass without looking like a total fucking retard and doing some funky dance involving your arms behind your back and swirling, while the rest of your body half assedly swirls in unison?

4. i did a lot of reading this weekend (because why would i study and try to salvage my accounting grade given the fact i have a test tomorrow)..one book was recommended by the dude as something she was interested in reading: "why men love bitches." i read it in about two hours, and the book is kind of a user's guide in how to be a self-serving bitch in the most genial way possible. one scenario dealt with a guy who said he needed a break and wanted to leave for a bit...her advice? bust out the suit case and help him pack. i'm thinking if you want to be with a guy, whipping out a suitcase at his first waiver and packing his shit up for him isn't the way to go, but hey..i'm the single one, so what do i know? regardless, most of the time i sat there going "uhm, i pretty much am like that, but thanks for the tip"..but the book had some awesome moments of "holy fuck i'm needy in the most passive agressive and self-sacraficing way possible." time to correct, correct, correct these giant faux pas'. anyway, it's a cute book..a quick read, and it does give some insight into how men view the dating game completely differently than women, and how to more aptly live in both sexes respective dating worlds at the same time. if you have ovaries, consider it.

5. in addendum to the above dating advice, i'm really starting to think that the majority of men who interact with me, or know me, on a really superficial level think i'm some kind of unattainable thing...like i'm unchartered territory. their goal becomes to chart my territory, as if no one has ever found their way into my heart before..and then they proceed to get super pissed off when they have no game and don't even come close to charting, let alone being involved in my life at all. stupid fucking idiots. super fucking fun for me though!

6. the boy who so casually texted me a week or so ago asking where i had been, and who conveniently never returned my phone call when i did, in fact, call him.....called me sunday night. why? he was driving and bored and wanted someone to talk to. it was an exciting ten minute conversation (read: not even the mad amounts of caffine i intake could have saved me from dozing off), that ended with him flat out saying "if you ever want to get together, give me a call..and if i never hear from you again..well then that's that then, and i understand." wow. way to make me seem like the disinterested party, and kudos for trying to put the entire fate of your relationships in the hands of other people. imagine his surprise when i said "well, why don't you just decide right now if you want to go out with me or not, and then pick a time." this should be interesting...and a ton of fun for me, should he actually call to finalize plans. he's just begging to be fucked with...isn't he?

7. i arrived at the red light. i pushed the clutch in, pushed the brake in, shifted into first, came to a complete stop...removed my foot from the brake and reveled in perfect friction, glanced over to my right to check and make sure my puppy-kins was okay (what? i'm like a soccer mom with her..i even do the mom-arm when i'm braking or turning), and what do i see? oh yes! a cop sitting in his police jeep with none other than a handicap parking tag hanging from his rearview mirror. nice to know that my world is protected by a police force of individuals who have to display handicap symbols on their fucking cop cars.

8. it irks the shit out of me when people give you fortune cookie responses concerning life and the way things go. it kind of takes me from a level of "perhaps i should invest in razor blades", and brings me to about a "razor blade, this is wrist..wrist, this is razor blade...now play nice," level. there you are divulging, explicating, saying what's up..what's on your mind..what's bothering you etc..and there they are with some awe-inspiring custom tailored response..like "well that's life, it has highs and lows." gee, thank you...there is no way in fuck i could have ever figured that out on my own--really, your words have inspired me to just slap a smile on my fucking face and realize there's a rainbow awaiting to take my now slap-happy ass to my happy place, you fucking jackass.

9. i'm starting to wonder how weathermen actually have jobs. moreso, i'm wondering why they even have to go to school to learn to predict the weather, because they're never right. sure, the asshole clicking his way through maps in california has got it pretty fucking easy seeing as it goes from sunny, to sunny, to partly cloudy, back to sunny most of the time...but predicting the weather in areas where there's fluctuations cannot..CANNOT! be that hard! you have doppler radar...you have weather towers, you have weather patterns and trade winds that pretty much scream "hey! we'll be fucking up your day in about twenty four hours!"....how can you always be wrong? i can look out my window and predict with more certainty that it will rain, snow, or whatever than you assholes with all your training and technology can. any job that tolerates a ninety-percent error margin in the reporting of facts...isn't a job. it's a hop skip and a jump away from being the advertisement right after miss. chleo. pick an accent and go, weathermen...people may respect you more if you actually go that route.

10. i've noticed a trend: while i'm passing--in the most pissed off and shitty manner possible--the asshole going below or around the speed limit in front of me who refuses to change lanes....even while i sit there riding his ass in true new york fashion...that the aforementioned asshole is not paying attention to me, how pissed off i am, and my feeble attempts to get them the fuck out of my way. oh no! they are on their cell phone blabbing away. i have no issue with people who talk on the phone while they drive--i do it. however, when i do it..i somehow can manage to shift as required and engage in a conversation all the while staying curteous and alert to drivers and the goings-on around me, as well as maintaining a speed that doesn't make the elderly feel like speed racer as they zoom on by. is it that fucking hard to keep your foot pushed down on the gas pedal, and talk at the same time? i'm thinking no..but, if it's really an issue for you..and you happen to drive like an asshole when you do engage in conversation while holding your steering wheel with one hand...get off your fucking phone...or stay in the right lane. bastards.