Cross your fingers for tomorrow!

Some Things Are Better Left Unsaid

Rape is defined as destroying or stripping something of its possession, and that is exactly what you are doing to my conversation when you scream in your own conversation. You are taking your words and destroying my feeble thought process and you have no idea because you are so absorbed in your own screaming world. In this world everyone around you is hard of hearing and you have to raise your voice to an eardrum shattering decibel because the people you are talking to and EVERYONE around you needs to hear what you are saying. It is THAT important. I like to call this process Conversation Rape.

For example, you're at dinner and you're having a nice conversation about kittens and/or butterflies, and the people behind you feel the need to scream at each other about sea otters and their drug paraphernalia lying around their apartment. "So yeah I really like the way butterflies are nice, quiet, and peace--" "I LEFT MY HEROIN NEEDLE ON MY FLOOR LOLROFLLMAOLMBOHAHAH." This kind of behavior is not okay. We (the people around you) do not enjoy hearing about your illegal activities, and we would appreciate it if you kept it to yourself before we band together and kill you with an axe.

This molestation of my conversation happened tonight while leaving the theatre after watching Paranormal Activity 2. I was telling my friends how I saw many resemblances to Cloverfield and The Blair Witch Project and mid-sentence conversation rapist yelled across the theater "THAT WAS EXACTLY WHAT HAPPENED IN THE FIRST MOVIE ZOMGNOWAIZHA?" and my initial reaction was "What.." So to everyone who feels the need to rape my conversations, do not. I will axe murder you. That is a threat, not a promise.

Internal Parasites are Scary...

So in respect to Halloween, I am going to write a post about the thing that terrifies me the most. Internal parasites are obviously parasites that exist within something. My particular fear is of them residing inside of me. Talk about intrusive. Let's talk about my friend, the tapeworm! The tapeworm is one of the oldest parasites and is actually really freaking scary. I was reading information about them and eating fries at the same time, which is a bad idea by the way. My fries started to wriggle and become segmented and I got a little freaked out and decided to watch baby kitten videos on youtube instead. I'm about to go into vivid detail about tapeworms so if don't want to read about tapeworms, feel free to visit why I think babies are useless.

Why tapeworms are totally awesome scary

Tapeworms seem kind of great at first. You're all "Hey I'm losing so much weight and eating so much! This is AWESOME!" You're wrong. You are oh so wrong. They're being stingy and eating all of your food, robbing you of that precious nutrition (that you're obviously getting from a Twinkie). They have mad crazy hooks that catch onto the walls of your intestines and can even replicate inside of you. These things don't even have intestinal tracks, and they are also both male and female! What's next world domination? I think so. All of this could also point that a tapeworm is, in fact, an alien.

You may have a tapeworm if you're eating four kajillion calories a day and not gaining a pound, or you may be an alien. Look, I'm not here to judge. Below is an accurate drawing of what a tapeworm looks like:

Babies are Useless

No really...they are. I want to know one thing your baby has done for you, because I'm pretty sure your baby has never put away their dishes or cleaned their own poop. They are sacks of flesh that you have to cart around and clean up after. Yeah it could be a token, a sort of prize that you can show everyone, but what happens if your baby is ugly? You can't trade your baby for fun things like a free stay at a hotel, or use them like reward points for discounts at Best Buy. Babies serve no purpose except to repopulate the world, which by the way is a bad idea because we're already way overpopulated.

Taking your useless baby with you to the grocery store is annoying. They cry, and scream and throw things like little baboons wrapped up a cute package. It's like getting a really beautiful present and opening it up and it's a gaggle of snakes and you're all like "Holy crap! It's a bunch of snakes! Oh god they're biting me!" and your friend is all like "But it was in a pretty package!" yeah. Babies are venomous snakes wrapped in pretty gift wrap...unless your baby is ugly, in which case it's ugly gift wrap. You carry this tiny humanoid type being INSIDE of you for approximately nine months. Chances are your baby is an alien. How many times have YOU developed from two cells and mitosified all over the place until you became large enough to barrel your way out of a vagina? That is NOT normal.

Also notice I tagged Jesus in this post...that's right Jesus, I'm looking at you...you did all of this.

Hate me all you want, you know I'm right.

Reasons Why You Should Probably (not) Be Friends With Me

I have a strange compulsion to text all the time. I think it's because I have a fear that if I do not constantly text my hand will contract gangrene and will have to be amputated. Below I have compiled a rather extensive list of texts that I have sent or strange things that I have said that make me completely awesome.

Texts:

Sent: I just ran over horse poop is that bad luck?

Sent: She was thinking "What sounds super bada** for this beast of a baby?". That's what she was thinking.

Sent: (referring to the radar on Highway 113) I hate that blinky sign, it's like it's judging me for speeding. Oh hey look at me I blink and you're doing something WRONG! Like the radar hasn't sped before. Is sped a word?

Sent: -dehydrated- -died-

Sent: (after not receiving a response) Hello? Don't you love me? Dehydration!

Sent: (after suggesting that we steal a car) Tell them that we're playing Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas and we were looking for hookers to shoot. Duh.

Sent: (discussing a friend being hit on by an ugly person) You should be like "Thanks now I have to go tend to my garage full of dead babies!"

Things I have said...

Martin: "Why are all those cars parked there?"

Mallory: "That's a car lot."

Martin: "Why are there so many cops there!"
Waylon: "That's the police station."

Martin: "You are such a lesbi-slut"

Martin: "I didn't know Church's delivered." (after seeing what I thought was a bicycle and a hot/cold bag [it was a row of chairs and a rolled up rug])

Things you will NOT find on my eHarmony profile...

I'm prone to drooling on people.

I think it's funny to sneeze on you.

I think your reaction is even better.

If you tickle me I will punch you in the face.

I like things that have to do with punching.

I'm probably a serial killer.

I'm definitely a serial killer.

Just kidding...or am I?

Technorati Claim

NW3S3R96ZQQS

Sweet Home Alabama

The Beginning of Ear Meth...

The song "Sweet Home Alabama" by the southern rock band Lynyrd Skynyrd is like ear meth for Alabama residents. Upon first hearing the song you kind of enjoy it and it is about your state so you are obliged to listen, with more exposures to the song you find yourself strangely drawn to it and then finally full blown mind-numbing addiction. You find yourself listening to the song on repeat on your iPod or in your automobile. You don't know how this happened or even when it started, all you know is you have to have more of this anthem, with its slow plucking intro to the melodic tune of the chorus.

The Trance Begins...

When this song is exposed in a crowd of people a phenomena that you usually see exclusively in melodramatic musicals. Everyone immediately stops whatever their doing, whether it's grocery shopping at the local Wal-Mart, or driving down the road in your rusty old pickup truck. You hear it, the faint thrumming of the intro segueing into the first verse. The sensory-motor receptors in your brain start firing off synapses at every point and your mind goes numb. You are the song's slave. The ear meth has taken full effect, and you no longer have control of yourself. A physical manifestation of the song takes form and you find yourself singing along, bobbing your head, and tapping your foot. Resisting the force is futile, it has you, you are it's captive. Prisoners of Guantanamo Bay have a higher chance of escaping than you do. You look around and notice that everyone is in the same trance as you are. It is a sea of "Sweet Home Alabama" singing zombies.

When Faced With Accusations...

Rarely, after the trancing has run it's course and the song has released the victim's brains, a foreigner to the area will ask what just happened. When presented with this question a native will most likely say "What do you mean what just happened? You guys don't do that?" and the foreigner will back off due to fear that beer-stained overall wearing Bubba, who has no teeth due to chewing too much tobacco, will tear him limb from limb.

Why It Takes Me Forever To Leave My House

Every time I get ready to go somewhere I have to gather roughly around nine million objects to take with me. Usually these objects are irrelevant to where I'm going, it just makes me happy to have them with me, e.g. Chapstick, deodorant, extra outfit, bear repellent, unicorn magic. I have to make myself go through a step by step process to get all of the items out of the house and into my car. This process usually kills about thirty minutes to an hour of my life and unfortunately I'll never get that time back. It's like it is physically impossible for me to get all of the items I need BEFORE I get in my car. Here's the usual process:

1. Make sure you have all the items and head out to your car.

2. Realize you forgot your cell phone in the one spot it has reception in your house.

3. Go back to your recently locked front door and realize you left your house key in your car.

4. Unlock your front door and get your phone.

5. Forget that you left your keys in some random spot that is totally NOT where you left them.

6. Finally locate keys and get in car.

7. Realize your forgot your ID, money AND your glasses.

8. Repeat steps 1-7 only with different items.

I apologize to anyone whom I may have made late in this process. Oh look I found my keys!

Camping...

There are very few times when I dare to venture into the woods and force myself to stay there in primitive conditions in a vinyl sack for shelter. Armed with just an air mattress and a comforter from my household bed, my friends and I decided it would be a terrible GREAT idea to go camping! No. Just no. First of all the campground we were going to go to only had "non-electrical" sites left, and let me tell you I am NOT camping without electricity because as soon as my phone goes dead I will be attacked by a rabid beaver and not have any way to call for help. So, we found an alternate campsite in the backwoods....yeah.

Well the person giving us directions politely left out the fact that you weren't supposed to turn at the first road with the sign for the campground, but instead turn at the second one. Twenty-five miles later we were pretty much lost. This road wasn't even named. We turned on a road that was all "HEY RECREATION AREA THIS WAY WOOO", turns out that sign is a dirty liar! Turning around was our only option. After we corrected that gargantuan mistake we made we found the right road! It doesn't get better. We drove for a long time and saw another sign that was all "HEY GUESS WHAT RECREATION AREA THIS WAY YEAHHH!!" and I was all "I'm not falling for THAT again." After about four more miles we passed a teeny tiny sign that was all "campground this way -->" and two dirt roads, a startled deer family, and a few trees later we found the campground.

Upon reaching the campground, I had this sinking feeling that was like "what have I done", but I ignored it because usually my instincts are wrong anyway! Not. We paid our campground fee and set up our tents. Now, two people like Mallory and me trying to set up a tent is like watching a paraplegic monkey dance for coins. AFTER that fiasco was over (Mallory didn't have stakes for her tent so in the event of a windstorm she would have blown away). All was well and we were all "YEAH WE'RE EFFING CAMPERS" until we realized we didn't pack enough food....

Hm.

Yeah.

So after the HOUR it took to go get food from town, we got back only to find that our camp had been invaded by LARGE BEAR-MUTATED CREATURES aka opossums. They were hidden in the woods being all "Hey we're large and in charge rustling these leaves." So I was all brave and hid on the top of my car while Mallory found a flashlight. That was a fun conversation that went a little like this:

Me: They can't get me up here. (Hiding on top of car)

Mallory: GET THE F*@#^$& FLASHLIGHT HOLY COWWWW!!!!

Me: I'm not getting the flashlight...

Mallory: GET IT!!!

Me: It's your flashlight.

ME: 1 Mallory: 0

Then the opossums got mad because we were shining a light on them so they left. All went well for a little while and then we laid down to go to sleep, and then I hit the reality that I forgot to pack a pillow. So while trying to sleep the bearopossums came back and decided to make loud angry woodsy noises outside of our tent causing me and Mallory to arm ourselves with the flashlight. Again, we beat them with our light power. I was sleeping peacefully when I woke up to coyotes howling at 3 A.M.

The next morning we packed up and went home.

Where's an Aztec Virgin when I need one...

This is why you stay off of Omegle late at night:

Stranger: well...they're a stranger. I call him Debbie.

You: Me...

Stranger: Hey

You: hello!

Stranger: What's up?

You: nothing at all! i just had a conversation with someone who wanted me to have sex with a dog! my night is AWESOME -_-

Stranger: I sense so

Stranger: Some sarcasm*

You: lol don't joke. i can see you turning green with envy.

Stranger: Yeah I wish I met more people who were into beastealiy

You: who doesn't? how are you?

Stranger: Horny now haha jk I'm good and you?

You: i'm about two more psychos away from dancing it out in my kitchen to old school Brittney.

Stranger: Haha that is the weirdest reaction I've heard

You: lol really?

Stranger: Yeah people are usually like I swear I'm going to stab a bitch or something like that

You: oh. well that's usually me after i have a few more drinks and ready access to kitchenware.

Stranger: Haha well at least dancing is alot less violent

You: yes. unless you're doing a "let's sacrifice a virgin so the sun god will save our crops" dance.

Stranger: And it includes less jailtime

You: another perk. but bad crops.

Stranger: Hmmm well that's just a sacrifice well have to make

You: what? jail time or healthy crops? because i really like my vegetables.

You: where's an aztec virgin when you need them!

Stranger: I was going to say healthy crops is a sacrifice

Stranger: And all the Aztecs are dead

You: what a debbie downer.

Stranger: Maybe a Mexican virgin will work

You: cause you're all "AZTECS ARE DEAD, LEMME RAIN ON YOUR PARADE" well guess what! I won't settle for Mexican.

Stranger: Hmm well I'm bit into jail any more cus I don't feel like getting raped by a large man

You: you just have to show them who's boss. or find a huge man and give him your bojangles in exchange for protection.

You: chances are you'll catch hepatitis. but that's another sacrifice.

Despite Popular Belief, I am NOT Justin Bieber...

No really...I'm not. This is the THIRD time someone I have never met before in my life has compared me to Justin Bieber. I mean SERIOUSLY. No. This is just....no. THIS IS WORSE THAN THE BOOB VIDEO. How dare they? I do not look like a rat do not favor Justin's facial features. I have composed a side by side image rendition to show you people that Justin Bieber looks totally like a mole rat different than I do. So here you go! See what you make me do? You make me post poor photos of myself making THE POUTY PUPPY FACE. Do you really want that on your conscience? I mean really? Every time you compare me to J-Biebs, God kills a kitten. Think about it. Think before you call me the Biebster. Totally different hairstyles mine is cooler , different bone structure, different teeth, AND I'M PALE! Like not just pale, but pure placid. I make ghosts look tan. I go out on the beach and people have to wear sunglasses to LOOK at me. Okay I think I'm finished ranting. Just to recap: Martin does not equal J-Biebs. God kills kittens when you think that. FOR SHAME. Do not let them down.

Piggly Wiggly Equals Death

Piggly Wiggly is a utopia for elderly women, like the cast of Golden Girls, and seemingly homeless men with beer/pee stained overalls and extreme forest like man fur. It has asbestos in the ceiling and is covered in E. Coli. It's a cholera infection waiting to happen. This grocery store has a very strict dress code, if you are a woman you must either find the most unflattering shortest pair of shorts you have and pair it with a Dixie Outfitter's shirt unless you're over the age of 65 then you have to wear some form of floral print night gown, if you are a male you must find some form of cowboy or work boots and tuck your obviously too large jeans into your boots and tuck your shirt which will have some form of "I'm a redneck" slogan into your high rise jeans that should have been retired in the '90s. There are some groundbreaking fashion exceptions that happen in the store like the beer stained men in overalls with forest like man fur protruding out of every visible hole of their body. I simply cannot keep up with the latest styles these days, so I scout the local Piggly Wiggly to see what is "hot" this season.

This store has apparently recently went under some groundbreaking renovation and "it's not so bad" anymore...or that's what I've heard. I cannot bring myself to go into the store for fear of being mugged by people with no teeth. I give props to everyone that can fearlessly go into that store. I typically don't enjoy seeing meth seeping out of someone's pores, but this place just raises the bar! So all of this brings us to the problem. I was craving cake. Like worse than a pregnant woman wants to eat tree bark.

Me: I want cake.

Dad: Go to Piggly Wiggly and get cake, while you're there get me coffee creamer.

Me: Piggly Wiggly has asbestos.

Dad: Not in their cake.

This comment did not help my fear of Piggly Wiggly nor did it help my craving for cake.

I did without cake.

Confessions of a Procrastinator

I get distracted with things like taking pictures of fake flowers!

I need help.

I feel like maybe I have some off the wall case of ADHD that keeps me from participating competently in every day life and that's kind of depressing...but then I get distracted and start thinking about other things so it doesn't really matter anyway. However, the ADHD keeps me from doing vital things in my life...sort of like breathing. If I were in charge of my own breathing I would certainly be dead by now due to forgetting to breathe. Obviously. Try to keep up. So I've finally made it all the way around the internet and back to my blog! HOORAY! I definitely wouldn't mind doing this for a living...even though I will probably have to live with my parents forever...I don't think they'll care...maybe. Maybe I can find a nice basement to inhabit like those creepy guys you see on movies that sit there in their underwear and their Star Trek t-shirts watching Battlestar Gallactica and wondering if they'll ever lose their virginity like Steve Carell in that one movie.

I don't know...that doesn't really seem like me.

Or maybe it does. I'm not such a fan of Battlestar Gallactica though. Maybe I'm broken. Anyway. So far in life I have procrastinated on getting a real people job. I am simply not cut out for today's work force. They want you to do so many things...like work. Isn't there a job out there where I can do ....nothing? It doesn't have to pay much just enough to pay for the little things like trips to far away islands and a condo on the beach. I don't think I'm asking for too much here. I think the world should help me out here. (I'm a democrat remember)

Another wonderful thing I'm procrastinating on is growing up! I think that's like some sort of biological, psychological state of being that I'm not capable of completing. I feel like I'm going to be one of those people that wait until they're 50 to want a baby and then they're like oh crap my uterus has already retired...WELL I have news for you people! I will grow up before my uterus retires! Maybe. If I remember to try.

What is up with me posting during the middle of the night? It's like I'm incapable of sleeping before 3 A.M. and I don't even sleep late. At 9 A.M. every morning the sun unfortunately lights up my entire room against my will. No respect. I swear. So I guess what I'm trying to say is my inability to get shit done will end up one day affecting my life in some way. But luckily it procrastinates too.

Shirley Phelps-Roper, Bill O' Reilly, and the 'R' word.

Oh, Shirley Phelps-Roper, you are one big sack of crazy. I need to get the name of her hair stylist because her hair looks AMAZING in whatever interview she's in (usually defending her sanity). Just take a look here! Yes, that IS her to the left. Isn't she lovely?! If you don't know who Shirley Phelps-Roper is you're missing out on a lot of quality entertainment. This woman goes around protesting everything. For example, she protests military funerals (Douche? Why yes I think so.), high schools, other churches, etc. Her message is the usual "God hates you and everything you do including your friends and children and he has double hate for you if you like someone of the same sex and ESPECIALLY if you're a democrat" kind of thing.

Like a lot of visionary (deranged) people her justification is, "God made me do it!". Sure he did! Just like Allah made those crazy Muslims crash into the WTC! The thing that really entertains me about her is the fact that she will argue to the death about her cause when there's really no validity for it at all. Every newscaster that I've seen interview her usually loses their patience and starts resorting to childlike behavior only on a more intellectual scale using their big people words like "abomination" and one anchor even went on to calling her the devil. Her response was actually to call her a bimbo. She called the nice Asian lady a bimbo on television. You can't write that. Of course everyone's first reaction is to be super angry at this obviously mentally deranged person, but my reaction is to laugh because I know that she has to have like Radon poisoning or something. Maybe she lives near a nuclear reactor?

Speaking of news anchors, what is up with Bill O' Reilly lately? Usually he spews his verbal "I hate everything that's not right wing conservative and I will portray everything in a way that is not true" jargon, but here recently he's taken to attacking celebrities? First Jennifer Aniston for her 'R' word slip and then one of the Kardashian bimbos for prowling on Justin Bieber. Talk about a cock block. I'm sorry Bill, I thought you actually cared about misconstruing your serious journalism facts on Fox News are you sure you wouldn't be better suited for...I don't know...the E! channel?

The punctuation for this blog was shot to hell in the first paragraph so I've just accepted that fact and will continue making simple grammatical errors until I get arrested. Any takers?

I'm a Wiener!! er..I mean Winner..

The sad part is I misspelled wiener the first time. I never really understood the I before E rule. Who needs it anyway? IE EI same difference? I think so. Anyway! I'm on Google now! Twice! Once for Martin Lee Photography (my SUPER successful Facebook fan site [it's not really that successful, but I do have more fans on there than I have friends]) and again for.....you guessed it...this blog! You only have to type like...eight or so keywords to find it! I think I'm on like the last page. So yeah, I'm pretty much famous. It's okay to be jealous. I would be.

Here recently I took a road trip to Pittsburgh, PA. If you're ever planning to drive there from Northwest Florida be prepared. The majority of the ride involves a large amount of mountains. Generally speaking I enjoy mountains. I now have a new found hatred for these large masses of rock that serve no purpose except to make my car's engine sound like an angry bumblebee (and I don't mean the Transformer). To my surprise, the temperature on top of mountains is a lot colder than it is on sea level. Who knew? I stopped to fill up for gas and almost froze in the beginning of August.

I also recently started college. Granted it's a somewhat tiny community college it still counts...in my mind. Apparently I look like I've been going there for a while because EVERYONE has stopped and asked me for directions at one point. They're like "WHERE IS THE MATH BUILDING OH MY GOD I'M FREAKING OUT I DON'T KNOW WHERE ANYTHING IS." and my reaction is usually to lie. "Oh..the math building...yeah..it's...that way?" When in fact, I didn't even know my college had a math building. Maybe I'll find it? I'm still expecting to take a wrong turn and wind up in Narnia.

So far I've learned that I have an "innocent" personality and that my Macroeconomics teacher is really emotional because she went through menopause, which seems like menstruation only for-longed and less bleed-y. I think she might have some form of undiagnosed Tourette's syndrome. She makes the strangest faces. First she'll look normal and calm then all of a sudden her eyes will get huge and she seems to develop scales and I expect her to blow fire only she doesn't. Then she'll go back to normal. I'm sad to say that these facial expressions are the highlight of that class because Macroeconomics is not really something that you can make fun.

Who knows, maybe I'll memorize the campus and find the math building and they'll love me so much that I'll be able to name the unknown mental problem that plagues my professor.

The Barnes and Noble Experience..

I'm not sure if it's just me, or if it can be actually scientifically proven, but I think people go to Barnes and Noble just to use "number 2". It never fails that every time I go into the bathroom someone is occupying the stall and not holding anything back. I think there could be a correlation in the fact that it's a book store and people associate books with defecating. They walk into the store and may not do it consciously.

It's a reflex inside of their body. They see the books and smell the paper and just simply cannot help themselves. Their brains automatically fire off a few synapses to their digestive tract and say "Hey guys! It's time let's get it started we're in Barnes and Noble!" and off they go! Of course I have no proof that women are like this although I like to think they are.

I could be wrong though, everyone in Barnes and Noble could have contracted some bacterial disease from the doorway. Or maybe they contracted some rare Indian disease on their last trip to India (because people where I live go to India often...let me tell you! They're just itching to use those frequent flyer miles to go there!)

Regardless of the reason behind the defecation, it's clear that Barnes and Noble is a pretty frequent spot for it. They just can't help themselves they just HAVE to when they walk in. They're like "oh might as well grab a book while I'm out here". Think about that the next time you're picking up your latest Nicholas Sparks novel (gag). You could be picking up someone's inspiration to clear themselves out! Puts a new spin on things in my eyes....

No you should not try out for American Idol....

So I actually managed to break out of my jail cell computer room and actually go do something real people do. I talked myself into taking a shower and getting ready which took probably longer than it should have. Finding clothes seems to be a problem for me because I forget where I put them after they come out of the dryer. My closet (despite the number of hangers) remains relatively empty because it is such a hassle to take clothes out of the dryer and de-crumple them and THEN put them on a hanger. There are too many steps and somewhere along the line I get distracted by something on the floor or my phone goes off. The clothes simply stay on my bed until I fall asleep. While I'm sleeping I tend to kick them, shove them, abuse them, drool on them, and they eventually all wind up somewhere completely different. However, it never fails the first place that I check for clothes is my closet. I'm always surprised to see that they're never there. Anyway, I found clothes and got ready and then proceeded to go eat at a fancy restaurant where they serve chips out of a gigantic trash can.

All was swell and they even sat us in the posh VIP room (the room that no one sits in and you get ignored [more on that soon])! So we waited....and waited....and waited until Paco came and took our orders. The people behind us were so polite! They seemed to be very angry at the fact that someone had church on a Thursday night. I don't mean like "Oh hey that's kind of stupid" angry I mean like "WHAT?!? CHURCH ON A THURSDAY THAT'S PREPOSTEROUS(if they knew that word) I'M WRITING A LETTER TO MY SENATOR" kind of angry. The angry customer then made a remark "I DON'T BELIEVE IN GOD". Thank you kind stranger for sharing your religious beliefs with the entire restaurant because yes that IS in fact what we want our conversation to revolve around while eating quesadillas.

Everything kind of fell quiet sort of like after someone makes a really inappropriate joke that no one thinks is funny not even the person that told it and you kind of have this "oh...." moment. Although it was kind of quiet, I wasn't complaining, I could actually eat my food and not have to listen to the high pitch shrill of the girl behind me UNTIL....she broke out her cell phone and starting listening to her ringtones. I was like oh okay...so let's add a soundtrack to my evening that's very nice of you. So apparently listening to it was not enough, she felt the need to sing her full blown bar karaoke rendition of the ringtones...at this point I was like Paco? Where is Paco. . . .Pacoooo?! You're not Paco.

Well...Paco never came back...his friend Jose did though...and thankfully Jose brought our checks. When we were leaving the girl was still putting on her show. I did not realize that when I went in to eat there that I was going to get dinner and a show, I definitely got my moneys worth.

Unfortunately random restaurant singing girl your voice wasn't very nice. In fact, it hurt my ears. I want to spare your feelings so that's why I'm telling you via blog instead of to your face. Please don't try out for American Idol.

My get rich quick scheme...

Apparently, when online websites advertise: “MAKE A GILLION DOLLARS IN A MONTH FOR TAKING SURVEYS” they really mean “Yeah…you can make that much but you have to take like double that amount of surveys…and that’s next to impossible”. I’m a “find out for yourself, even if you waste countless minutes from your life because really you have nothing better to do with your time at 1:15 in the morning because really no one’s up except Alyssa and although she’s amazing to talk to she doesn’t pay me” kind of person. While listening to a cheesy audio track play over and over and over and over and did I mention it was on repeat, I only managed to gather that I could instantly become rich for taking online surveys. Hello Landrover.

I filled out numerous forms with the same questions over and over, however I got the occasional interesting question like: “Would you like a chance to win $3,000 in hair removal?”. Answer? No. I don’t think I even have three thousand dollars worth of hair and I would rather not have it removed by laser off of my body. This immediately puts a mental image of some high tech alien technology sending tiny beams of super focused light into my hair follicles and disintegrating them. I like my hair follicles a little too much to put them through such emotional trauma. Where was I?

Oh yeah. After filling out ONE form, ONE, not fifteen, my inbox was swarmed with countless emails, so I was thinking YES! I’m on my way! No. I was wrong. Again. I didn’t even qualify for half of them. My attention span didn't last much longer and I ventured off to lurk Twitter and watch mind numbing Youtube videos. I'm still working on surveys as they email them too me. It may be too early to say this but I think my office hours are going to be 12 a.m to 5 a.m because that seems to be just about the time that I'm wasting my life away answering meaningless questions about someone's new product that they're paying me fifty cent to fill out "valuable consumer information".

EDIT UPDATE:

Most of my surveys have been sent to the spam folder due to my lack of attention span. I currently have 1,256 spam messages. Most are surveys.

Every blog starts with...

...a really corny introductory post entailing all that you could ever possibly want to know about what the blogger is going to be posting and maybe even personal facts that no one really has any interest in knowing but is forced upon you for no reason! So here I go. I will blog mostly about. . .nothing, my goal is to kind of give you an insight into how I perceive daily situations or anything that I think is kind of funny.

I'm a huge fan of run-on sentences and over punctuating, and it just so happens that when you put "over" and "punctuating" together like "overpunctuating" it's not a word! Who knew?! So if you're a grammar freak it's probably best if you navigate away from the page. Anyway, I have a rather short attention span and I'm notorious for jumping from topic to topic so that might keep things a little more interesting.

My thought processes are usually very detailed and they all happen within a few seconds of each other and really don't make a lot of sense but are easily conveyed through my intense wording skills. I feel like I should put "severe wording skills" on my resume. Who knows maybe I'll be hired by the dictionary.

Turns out..the dictionary is not hiring...I checked.