I found myself rooting for him.

Text from Patrick (arguably the funniest person I know): The sticker on this Chiquita banana says, “Pssst. I’m full of vitamins.” Your secret is safe with me, yellow one.

I feel like thank yous are a very personal thing. For me a lot more goes into a thank you than just the exchange of words. When I say thank you I take on a “thank you” demeanor. Not by choice so much as by what the phrase “thank you” implies. When I say thank you I automatically begin to feel grateful and appreciative because most of the memorable instances in which I’ve used the phrase before involved those feelings. What I’m trying to say is I think there needs to be another phrase that means either a lot more than your typical thank you, or a lot less, depending on how you define your typical thank you. For example, when a stranger holds a door open for you, societal norm dictates that you say “thank you.” I’m not saying that you shouldn’t be grateful and appreciative of this Good Samaritan. I’m sure there were things he would rather have been doing at the time but he chose to hold the door for you. Express your gratitude by saying thank you. But then your common sense of decency tells you to say the same thing when your mom leaves work early and drives through a wicked thunderstorm to come to your chorus concert that’s an hour away. The situations involve vastly different levels of gratitude and appreciation. Shouldn’t there be an inferior phrase for the former or a superior phrase for the latter? One of my really good friends Jessie (who I’m going to visit on the 8^th actually wooo!) has this strange habit of adopting a loud Irish accent every time she thanks a stranger for holding open the door. I thought at first she was just doing it to be funny but she has done it so many times, and in situations that would make even the brashest person uncomfortable, that I’m convinced she honestly can’t help it. It’s eerily Tourettes like. I’m not sure, but it may even be accompanied by a twitch.

Also, every time megavideo cuts to the screen that says “You have watched 72 minutes of video today. Please wait 54 minutes or click here to enjoy unlimited use of megavideo.” a little part of me dies.

Daft Punk vs Fatboy Slim

praise you around the world

but I don’t know how.

Recently I made a big discovery. The AM/PM on my computer had been set backwards. It said 2:15 PM when really, it was 2:15 AM. And assuming no one I know has it in for me, it had been that way since I bought this computer. It was wrong for 3 whole months. Fucking incredible. I look at the time on my computer at least once every day. That’s 90 days. 90 times I could have noticed. Maybe I’m making a big deal out of this but I’ve gone my entire life thinking I’m a relatively perceptive person and then something like this happens and completely destroys my entire perception of self. What a slap in the face. It nearly brought my entire idea of reality crashing down upon me. Just kidding. Melodrama is my vice. But seriously, 90 days? Come on.

On a lighter note, I wish I had an eidetic memory.

Names are irrelevant and mine is too long anyway. I was born outside of the US. I moved to the US at the age of 3. In elementary school I was ESOL (English as a second language) student of the week almost every single week. I picked up English quick. We used to be poor and then suddenly we weren’t anymore and I know now to love everything. My mom is convinced that everyone is out to get me, rape me, then kill me. Consequently, she’s overprotective. She makes more money than my father and he feels emasculated and deals with it by..actually, he doesn’t deal with it. My boyfriend is 6 foot 4 inches and loves me more than I deserve. I grew up in an upper middle class suburb. I am a student at a college with 35,000 other people.

I made a blog because I like to type up the shit I think about on word documents and save it under one word titles. For example, the document titled “phone” is six to seven sentences long and discusses the concept of “hanging up” the phone and how that phrase will soon be obsolete because no one has wall phones anymore. Each narrative/rant/anecdote/story/ramble/whatever has it’s own word document and this has resulted in two to three hundred word documents with titles ranging from toilet to Tupac. A blog seemed like a great idea. We’ll see.

Also, I rarely sleep at night and am terrible at social niceties.