Skid Marks

* One of my workout DVDs is called Hip Hop Abs and the guy that teaches it is so incredibly gay that he makes Richard Simmons look butch. He looks like he's in heat and every workout move he does has a weird sexual undertone. Top that off with the fact that he sounds like Buffalo Bill from Silence Of the Lambs ....
"And crunch your abs, hold for one and two....now, put the lotion in the bucket....Great! Stretch it out!"
After watching it, I felt sore, fit and kinda violated.

* I went to Target today and the cashier looked like an escapee from Madame Tussaud's Museum. I literally started to walk to another cashier because I thought she was a mannequin until she said, "Ma'am, I can take you over here."
How lifelike! I thought. I don't think she appreciated me eyeballing her asscrack when I was trying to figure out where she was plugged into. She completely lost it when I tried to swipe my ATM down her waxy cleavage.
People can be so touchy sometimes.

* So Britney Spears is opening for the VMAs this Sunday. I'm pretty sure that her performance will involve some type of chili dog eating contest with Mariah Carey.
As usual, Britney will make a complete fool of herself because everyone knows Mariah can chow down.

* I'm currently reading a really boring book. It teased me with a very exciting summary (2 girls on a bike trip get chopped up by a guy with an ax and surviving the ordeal-true story), but really its all about one of the girls bringing the suspect to justice and interviewing a bunch of people who tell the same story ...blah blah blah...snore. But, for some reason, I cannot abandon a book after I've started it. No matter how horrible. I guess it's the optimist in me. I keep hoping that it'll get better and by the time I've lost all hope, I'm already in the middle of the damn thing so I figure, shit, you got this far..just finish it. I don't know why I'm torturing myself like this...but thankfully it looks like I'm going to have an out. We're running out of toilet paper so I think I'll put the last few chapters to good use after a nice meal of carne asada burritos with extra beans.

* My BIL is a recovering meth addict and I am fascinated as to why people would try this drug. I guess the upside of meth is that you're "energized," so energized that you're up for days feeling invincible and fabulous. This is what fascinates me. Because personally, if I had to be addicted to a drug, I want one that will knock me the fuck out so I can SLEEP my life away. Screw the whole jittering down the street at 4am, picking at the "worms" in your face, thinking you can fly type of high. That'll only get you into trouble. I believe that if you're going to be a druggie bum, bum it out right. I want to be the bum that's passed out and soils themselves in front of the laundry mat next to the 7-11. The bum that kids poke a stick at to see if you're still alive. The bum with the urine/b.o./sour ass stank that can part a crowd like Moses parted the red sea.
I guess I'm just a perfectionist that way.

* What if you were in a coma right now and the life, people, places and things that you see around you is really a big dream? What if you woke up and realized you were actually Katie Holmes? or worse....Star Jones' ambiguously gay husband? Imagine making sweet sweet love to that lump of flap and eyeballs.
I would personally look for the first brick wall to run into....well maybe not right away if I was Katie Holmes. I'd like to see what taggin' Xenu midget ass feels like. (because you know Tom is totally a bottom.)

* I've been in a hair rut basically since my faux hawk grew out. I'm putting off getting a haircut because my mature 31 one year old self wants a sophisticated yet fun haircut that's easy to style...but at sometimes at night, I secretly wish I can cut my hair like this:



Sigh. Mike Score didn't know how good he had it.