A Little Indigestion

I needed to eat today, and was in a hurry since I had to get to rehearsal. I did what most Americans do in this situation, and stopped by McDonald's. Let me just say that I don't eat fast food very often. I try to avoid it as much as possible since there isn't really any nutritional value to it. I decided that since I had to eat it, I would get a salad.

I had seen pictures of the new Asian chicken salad, and decided to try it. It sounded appetizing, there are pea pods and mandarin oranges in it. You can't go wrong. I ordered it without dressing, since I'm not much of a dressing person.

When I got my order, there was a package of dressing with my salad. No big deal, I can just throw it out. It makes me feel wasteful to do that though. It just reinforced to me that McDonald's is trying to make everyone overweight. I specifically say that I don't need salad dressing, and they toss it in, trying to sneak a few extra calories in me.

Anyhow, I started to eat my salad. It was okay, but nothing to write home to mom about. The chicken scared me a little. It looked like it may have been sitting out for a day or 3 before it found its way on my lettuce. Against my better judgment, I ate it.

I spent a significant portion of my day in the bathroom. If I wasn't on stage, I was near a toilet. Luckily, I felt better a few hours later and was able to finish my day without incident. I won't be eating McDonald's anytime soon.

Updates?

I don't really have any clue what this picture has to do with anything. I just decided to put it on here.

I apologize for my lack of updates in the last few days. I haven't really had time to do much of anything other then go to work, memorize lines, and go to rehearsal. My updates will be sparse to nonexistent for the next week or so, but I will be back with amazing stories sometime soon. I know everyone is wondering what their purpose in life must be without having anything to read on my blog, but my schedule will open up soon, I promise.

Night Shopping

My mom always warned me against going to the store after dark. It isn't safe to walk around parking lots after the sun goes down. Although I know its true, I don't care. The stores are never as crowded at night, and if I know what I need to get, I prefer to go at night so its quicker. Maybe I'll start to take my mom's advice from now on.

I needed to make a quick trip to Meijer for batteries a few minutes ago. I arrived, and the parking lot looked pretty empty. Good, I won't have to wait in line long and push my way through crowds. As I approached the door, there was a man standing there. He made eye contact with me as I walked up, and I instantly knew I should have just kept my head down and kept walking.

He asked me if I had a cell phone. I thought about lying for a second, but since I was putting it in my pocket when I walked up to him, I couldn't very well do that. Also, I felt bad, I would hope someone would show me some kindness in the same situation. I handed him my phone. I figure, if you're going to be murdered, you may as well be doing someone a favor when it happens.

He reassured me twice that he wasn't going to kill me or rob me. I told him I wasn't too concerned. He began to explain that his brother was supposed to pick him up and wasn't there, but before he could even finish the sentence, he started muttering curses that I don't feel comfortable repeating about his brother under his breath.

He dialed the number, and as the call started to go through, he saw his brother pull into the parking lot. He gave me the phone back and walked away. I told him to have a good night, but he was swearing at the time, so I'm not sure if he heard me or not.

I bought my batteries and was back in the parking lot in just a few minutes time. As I was walking back to my car, I decided to look to see what the number was that he called. I'm not really sure why, I just did.

As soon as I got into my car, my phone started to ring; vibrate actually. I looked to see who was calling. It was the number the potty mouthed man had called. I didn't answer and figured when the person got to voice mail, the caller would realize he didn't know me and that would be the end of it. Plus, I assumed his brother would tell him he was calling the person who had lent him their phone in the parking lot if he was trying to figure out who had called him. They were in the same car as far as I knew.

No voice mail was left for me, which disappointed me a little if I'm being honest. I would have been nice to get a thank you. About five minutes later, my phone rang again. Same number as before. I thought about answering so the people would stop bothering me, but then I thought about horror movies I had seen and didn't want them to get in contact with me and tell me to look in my trunk where I would find the body of my dead turtle or something.

These strange people haven't called me for about an hour now. Next time I'm in this situation, I'm going to lie and say I don't have a phone. I say that now, but I'll lend it out again, I know it.

No Manners

As many of you can probably attest, I have problems after eating. I'm a fast eater. I'm not one to talk during a meal, I want to eat, then I'll talk. The problem is, that if you shove food into your face, you end up getting gassy.

Lisa hates me because I always burp when I'm on the phone with her, or worse yet, when we're out in public. I have no shame in it. She yelled at me for burping no less then 12 times when I was on the phone with her tonight. Sorry Lisa.

I guess it's just the white trashiness inside of me. There are certain things I won't do; leave the house without ironing my clothes, talk with my mouth full, go without brushing my teeth, or skip a day of showering, but I have no shame with burping. I guess no one is perfect, but I'm close.

My Favorite Quote

My life has been so uneventful lately, that I am reduced to writing a post about my favorite movie quote of all time. I promise to write something interesting in the future, but for tonight, this is all you get.

What I love about this line, is that it's basically said in passing. It isn't a catchphrase that everyone uses from a movie that everyone has seen a million times(Run Forrest! Run!!! Hasta la vista baby...etc). It comes from a scene in Scream, just after poor Drew gets killed in the first scene.

Sydney and her friends are sitting around a fountain discussing what happened the night before. One of the guys makes a lewd comment about Drew's death(what was her name in that movie? Sarah?), and one of the girls says, "It's called tact, you fuckrag."

I love it. My sister and I used to say that to each other about 12 times a day after we saw that movie. I think everyone should start to say it...when it is acceptable to use such language. Probably don't want to say it to your minister after church or anything like that.

What's everyone else's favorite movie quote?(I'm stealing the ending question idea from Dustin's blog, I don't feel like being original tonight.)

First Impressions

I tend to make really bad first impressions. I've been told countless times by my friends that they thought I was stuck up when they first met me. Although, I'm not at all stuck up, I do understand why people think that about me.
I went out for a drink after rehearsal with my friend Amanda(not Strong), and one of her friends. As we were talking, I realized that I wasn't engaging her friend in the conversation at all. Not because I didn't want to, but it's always awkward to have a conversation with someone you don't know.
This always seems to be the case with me when I first meet someone. I'm not a person who can make conversation with a stranger. Once I get to know someone, I'll be chatty and sarcastic, but I'm too shy to do that when I first meet you. I guess I'm just socially retarded.

My Impending Nervous Breakdown

Are you ready for it? It's coming if you are or not. Just pray you aren't around when it happens. I'm about to have a nervous breakdown, and it isn't going to be pretty. I take on way too much stuff, and then I end up like this.

I haven't slept since Saturday night. Whenever I get stressed, I can't sleep, so I end up moody. I've had about 3 hours sleep each night the last few nights.

I was supposed to have my lines for my show memorized yesterday, but I still don't know them. I haven't had time to sit down for an hour and learn them. It makes me feel like such a slacker because I'm always one of the first people off book when I do a show, and I haven't even started to learn them.

The good news for all my readers, I'm sure I'm going to make a complete ass of myself when I finally break(it normally happens that way when I get like this). I'm sure it will make for an interesting blog entry in the near future.

There Goes my Back

I feel like I broke my back today at work. It's all because of a dog who looks like the one pictured on the left. The only difference is, the dog who caused me so much pain was about twice the size.

Everyone left early today, and I was left with the receptionist to close up. I didn't really mind, I left early on Wednesday, and I felt like sharing the wealth. What everyone forgot to mention was that the 105 pound dog in the very back room refused to walk on our floors.

The owners came to pick up their dog, and I went through their discharge with them. When they were checking out, I went to get the dog. As soon as he got out of the cage, he refused to stand up. I tried to make him stand, but he wasn't having it, so I kind of pushed him across the floor to the doorway that leads to the lobby.

I had worked up a good sweat doing this, but I couldn't really push the dog up to the owners. They don't really like it much when you do that. I tried to make the dog stand again, and it wouldn't. As soon as I let go, he would slump back to the floor. I was beyond irritated at this point.

When something like this happens, you normally can count on the owners to help you. When the owners are 98 years old, as was the case today, they can't really shoulder too much of the weight. I had the man come back and take the leash, and I put the dog back on his feet.

If I straddled the dog, hunched over him, holding onto his stomach, he couldn't fall back down. This is how I walked the last 100 feet out of the clinic. It looked like I was molesting the dog. I really hope there wasn't anyone around with a camera, or I guarantee you I'll be on some web site somewhere for beastiality.

I finally got the dog in the car, and felt like I had just completed the world's most horrendous workout. My back is killing me still. I was sweating like a fat kid in gym class. I'm getting too old for this shit.

I'm an Attention Whore

I broke down tonight and wrote my bio that will be in the program for my show. I always feel such pressure to outdo my bio from the show before. I fill it with the most random, fabricated crap I can think of. I'm not completely satisfied with what I wrote for this one; something about being able to do this show since I'm still recovering from a hernia I sustained during my winter dance recital, which prevented me from being able to go to Lebanon to study Kung-Fu with Buddhist monks.

The best part of my bio is that I put a plug in it for my blog. Yes, I'm that shallow. Whenever I go to a show and see that someone put their website in their bio, I laugh at how cheesy that is, but I always go home and look it up. I hope some people will see my bio and decide to read my blog.

I'm sure they won't even print what I wrote, since they always edit what I write and it's never as funny as it could have been. I holding out hope that the Pit won't let me down. Nothing like free advertising for myself.

White Trash Fun

As the weather warms, I get a little more excited. I love summer more then anything. I love the warm weather. Living in Michigan, where winter can stretch for 9 months out of the year, I relish any day that is sunny and warmer then 70 degrees.

The real reason I love summer is because summer is demolition derby season. I'm truly white trash at heart. I love demolition derbies. If you've never been to one, you have no idea what you're missing.

I try to catch at least 3 every year. They sell overpriced beer, and there is no shortage of mulletts and flannel. The best part of going to them is when you try to dress the part. The last derby I went to, I wore cowboy boots and a flannel shirt. I fit right in. I was going to wear a mullett wig, but I decided that if someone realized I was wearing a wig, they may beat me up for making fun of them. Instead, I just got trashed and screamed for my car.

There is a system to picking the car that will win. Always pick the car that has the number 69 painted on it. This rule is voided if there is a station wagon in the same heat. If there is a station wagon with the number 69 painted on it, don't hesitate, put all your money on it.

I'm all hot and bothered thinking about all the demolition derbies scheduled for this summer. If you want to go to one, I'll be there. I'll be one of the numerous drunk people holding my 6-pack screaming for the shaggin wagon with the number 69 on it. Don't hate, just go and see how much fun white trash people can be.

Ya'll Think it's Funny, but it Isn't

Last night, I poured my heart and soul into my post about the traumatic events that transpired one Easter. I'm glad to see that everyone thinks its funny. Okay, it really is funny, how many people were molested by the Easter Bunny? I'm probably in the minority here.
Let's just take the time to remember that I HATE people dressed up in costumes where I can't see their faces. Most people think that's funny until they see me freak out if there is a costumed figure near me.
The point of this post, don't joke with me about costumed people attacking me, don't wear costumes near me...unless you dress like the people in this picture. I want them to be my new best friends.
To be clear, I'm being very sarcastic when I write this. I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings when they read this. I really am scared shitless by people in costumes and I do want to be friends with the people in this picture, but beyond that, complete sarcasm.

My Easter Molestation

I have a huge phobia of people dressed up in costumes. I tried to overcome it and would get my picture taken with Santa and the Easter Bunny if I was out with my friends and saw them at the mall or the store. It worked for a while, but when I was 17, something happened, and I will never trust someone dressed in a costume again because of it.

I was at the store with my sister, and we thought it would be fun to get our picture taken with the Easter Bunny. I had to give myself a few seconds to psych myself up before we could get it done. I didn't think about what we were doing, and didn't look at the costume before we sat on its lap.

The photographer was getting the camera into focus, and I felt something on my back. At first, I thought the person in the costume was just trying to get comfortable and figure out where his or her hand should go. That's when the rubbing started. Yes, the Easter Bunny was feeling me up on my back.

I didn't know what to do. I mean, you can't really cause a scene when there's a bunch of little kids standing around, but I didn't know where the hand was heading, and I didn't want to find out. Lucky for us, the photographer took the picture about 2 seconds later, and I jumped up.

The person in the costume kept looking at me as we waited for the pictures to develop. I felt so violated. I still have that picture up in my room, Nothing looks too askew with it, but let me tell you, that was one horny little rabbit.

My Unofficial High School Reunion

Tonight was an exciting night. I finally met up with Carly. We were supposed to go out to lunch yesterday, but she was sick, so we rescheduled for dinner tonight. I forgot how much I love her.

We spent time eating, talking, and drinking(much too much time drinking). It was so much fun to catch up with each other. Better yet, she brought pictures of us in high school with her, including a certain picture that got us in trouble with the school paper.

We went to the bar area to have a smoke, and things took a turn for the worse. My worst nightmare came true. We were face to face with a table full of people we went to high school with. There was one girl there that I was happy to see, so it wasn't all bad.

If nothing else, my evening made me realize just how much I hated high school. Carly kept filling me in on the gossip from everyone in our class; information gathered mainly from drunken conversations with our fellow students. I don't keep in touch with anyone from high school. Is that normal? I always thought that no one from my high school kept in touch with each other. I guess not. Who knew.

Life Keeps Screwing Me in the Ass

The worst part is, it isn't a slow gentle screw that I may enjoy. It's a ravaging screw that hurts and makes you scream, "Stop, it hurts, I can't take anymore." On a happier note, I think my psychic abilities are becoming stronger. Here's the story.

Last night, I had a dream that I broke a tooth. We're talking broken to the nerve and hurt like hell. I woke up and felt my tooth to make sure it was still there. It was very realistic. Needless to say, my tooth was still there, and in one piece.

A little back story; when I was in high school, I got a ring stuck on my finger. I couldn't get it off, so I decided to use my mouth and teeth to pull it off. In retrospect, not a good idea, but had I known the consequences, I wouldn't have done it. I chipped the back of one of my front teeth in the process. I've learned to live with it. It really wasn't too obvious ater all.

Today at work, I had my stethoscope hanging around my neck. I always keep it there because I loose it if I don't and spend countless hours looking for it. I was about to go into a room to do an exam on a dog, when I dropped one of the vaccines I was holding. I bent over quickly to pick it up, and disaster struck.

I've bent over with my stethoscope on my neck countless times before, and never had any problems. Today, it swung back up and hit me in my chipped tooth. As soon as it happened, I knew I broke my tooth. My first thought was, "Son of a whore!" I didn't think it was too bad though. Maybe a tiny piece of tooth. It wasn't a small piece though.

As I stood back up, I could feel the broken piece in my mouth. I put my tongue on the tooth, and another piece broke off. I ran to the mirror to see how bad it looked. It wasn't painful or anything; small favors, but I didn't want to look like a freak. What I saw was horrible.

I decided to call my dentist since I have the day off tomorrow(all the while, someone was waiting for me to come into their room. Sorry, some things are more important). There are no less then 500 dentists listed in the phone book. I don't know what my dentist's office is called. I only know his name, but it isn't listed by his name in the phone book. Bastards. I had to get back to work, and couldn't get a hold of anyone to make me beautiful again.

I looked in the mirror before I started to write this post, and to be honest, it really isn't too bad(that isn't really a picture of my teeth with this post). Since my smile is one of my biggest insecurities, this really didn't help to boost my self esteem. I'm embarrassed to open my mouth to talk even. This needs to be fixed ASAP. If only I could remember the name of my dentist's office...or if only I wasn't so vain.

Gossip and Alcohol

I can't wait for tomorrow. I have a lunch date with one of my friends from high school. I've run into her a few times since we graduated, but each time, one of us was busy or in a hurry and we couldn't really talk. The message she sent me said that she wants to drink and talk about people who are getting fat at lunch. I'm sorry, but this sounds like a very interesting lunch to me. Maybe we'll talk about some of you. Maybe not though.

Maybe I'll post details of what happens tomorrow, or maybe it will stay between Carly and me. Only time will tell. I don't even care that I've been working all morning and still have at least 9 hours left to my day before I'm done with work and rehearsal. I'm so excited.

Dare to Dream

I hate when people I don't know ask me to do them favors. I know that makes me sound like a huge asshole, but in all actuality, I am. The favor I was asked today really bothers me. Let's start at the beginning.
I realized today that I should have gone to church yesterday. I don't go too often anymore, which really isn't good, but I also wanted to go so I could talk to my pastor about singing at the Easter service. I guess I could still call him this week sometime to ask about it, but I hate talking on the phone when I could have had a face to face conversation. I figure that if I wait till this coming Sunday, it will be too late to finalize everything.
It's really odd that I was thinking about that today. I got home from rehearsal tonight, and someone had left there card for me to call him. He wants me to sing in his church. First of all, I hate this church. I'm a horrible person, I know, but I have very good reasons for feeling this way. Churches shouldn't be hypocritical and promote hate, this one does.
My first thought was that he wanted me to join his choir. No, he wants me to sing a solo. I don't even know how he knows I sing. As far as I know, he's never even heard me sing before. Wouldn't he be in for a rude awakening when he first heard me try to belt out some Christian tunes. Serioulsy, why ask someone you've never heard sing before to sing in front of a bunch of people. Maybe my parents made a comment about how I sing to him. Let's take compliments for parents for what they are. Everyone's parents think their child is the best thing in the world. It doesn't mean anything if they say their kids are talented. I don't think I'm even going to waste my time calling him back.

Myspace or yours?

I really wanted to hate myspace. Honestly, the whole conception of it doesn't seem like anything special. I joined for two reasons. My friends all have myspace accounts and I wanted to fit in, and I'm a bit of a stalker. Despite that my stalking didn't seem to turn out as well as I hoped it would...so sad, if only I was more interesting, people would like me more, I've still become addicted. My myspace account sucks, I don't have nay cool songs downloaded to it or even good pictures posted. I need to work on that yet.

One of my secret desires is that someone from high school that I don't like will see my page and decided to check out my blog. All the people who thought they were too good for me or better then me will realize how witty and funny I can be after reading my blog and decide they want to to be my myspace friend. Nothing will give me greater joy then to decline them as my friends.

Speak of the devil, I just got a new myspace friend request. Got to go find out who it is.

My Easter Plans

Today, while talking with my younger sister, I realized that Easter is only 2 weeks away. When I was younger, I loved getting my Easter basket. When I was older, I hated it. There was nothing worse then getting up early to look for a basket. I'm not a morning person, and games first thing in the morning suck.
Anyhow, as my sister and I were talking, she made comment about how she misses getting Easter baskets. I told her we should get baskets for each other. She's fickle and said she doesn't really want candy though. We came up with the best compromise possible. Easter baskets full of alcohol. I'm so excited for Easter now. I don't have to look for a basket first thing in the morning and free alcohol. The best part of our baskets is going to be finding them. We're going to leave clues all over the place. One clue will lead to another until you finally get to the basket. There will be a shot sitting with each clue. I love holidays with my family.

Just Get Over It

I'm so insecure, it's ridiculous. I think that most people probably have a few things about themselves they are uncomfortable with, but I take things to the extreme. Basically every decision, no matter how large or small involves a whole bunch of second guessing on my part.
I don't want to embarrass myself, so I won't go into too much detail as to why I'm thinking about this, but seriously, what is wrong with me? Is it normal to have an inner conflict with yourself whenever you decide to do something or say something? Does everyone always doubt someone's intentions and expect the worst from every situation? Does everyone think I'm crazy now that I've admitted to this?