Holy Crap I hate it when:
1) People don’t push their chairs back in. I mean C’MON! Don’t be an asshat.
2) I wear makeup to work and people flip all over themselves to tell me how pretty I look. It’s just some eyeliner and mascara fucktard and plus it’s just leftover from last night. Calm down.
3) People say Valentime’s. Grrrrrr.

This is just a very short list, there will be more. Believe that.

Oh, something else I hate but has a whole story to go with it and therefore is not conducive to list form. We live on a fairly large street, and the driveway for our complex leads straight onto it (dar). The curb on either side is red. You know, to make it physically possible for us apartment dwellers to LEAVE. If there is a car parked in the red zones you have to be 2/3 of the way into the large street to even see what the hell is going on out there. As you can see, this poses a problem. What makes it worse is that sometimes people from our complex park there. Rilly? I don’t know why people park there but they do, and it is UNSPEAKABLY rude, selfish, irritating, and plain retarded. So I started calling the police to give them a heads up. I’ve never seen what comes of these phone calls. Until a couple nights ago. On our way out some asshat put our lives in peril, so I called the cops. Guess what?! When we pulled in there was a po. lice. ve. hi. cle. and what were they doing just as I turned my head? Gingerly placing the pink paper of magic underneath the windshield wiper. It was as good as sex. I rode that wave all night. Wow, it was good. Watch out party people, you might get millionized.

Get this. Today, Crazy Lesbian Lady asked me to please please please watch the class while she had to go to an emergency meeting for some out of control kid. Fine. Except she failed to mention that she would be gone for 45 minutes and there was no lesson plan. I’m a smart girl, I just improvised. It was a little bumpy at first but then I busted out with hangman and it was a success. Until CLL walked in and yelled at Abraham for being at the board. ABRAHAM, MOVE AWAY FROM THE BOARD YOU KNOW THAT IS NEVER ALLOWED. GET AWAY FROM THE BOARD A. BRA. HAM! Whoa. Then she turned to me and yelled (yes, actually yelled) at me for allowing kids to touch the holy grail that is THE BOARD. I DON’T EVER ALLOW THEM AT THE BOARD (actually not true, I’ve seen it), IT’S INNAPROPRIATE (?) IT’S NOT EDUCATIONAL (oh and those Valentine’s Day cards are?) AND WHAT IF SOMEBODY WERE TO WALK IN? (then they would walk in?). I was floored. Here I was doing her a big favor (I was supposed to be on break) and she has the fucking nerve to yell at me and the poor kid? She is batty. Later in the day she came up and gave me what I suppose is her version of an apology. That just means she gave me a bunch of excuses such as “flustered” “overwhelmed” and “I’m fucking retarded.” I made the last one up. I said, “Thank you, that was really uncalled for,” and pretended to be busy. I mean geez.

If the tourism board of Costa Rica asked me for some slogans this is what I would give them

Costa Rica: You’ll drink in the shower
Costa Rica: Rule #1, there are no rules
Costa Rica: Watch out whitey, sunscreen is $15 (which leads to…)
Costa Rica: Not as cheap as you think
Costa Rica: Why aren’t you drunk yet?
Costa Rica: Pure Anarchy
Costa Rica: Oh, it’s goooooorguuuuuuuuuss

Whew

Anna was like the crazy tragic friend I never had but always wanted.* You know she would take you to Vegas just to have a friend with her. I would have had all the drugs I could possibly consume and access to a crazy lawyer if need be. It could have been great. Ah well.

*You know how in poker they say if you can’t spot the sucker you’re the sucker? Yeah.

Costa Rica? Indeed. There’s one picture, in particular, I want to share but it’s on a different computer and I just do not feel like dealing with it. Soon, soon. No, I did not get to hold a monkey. I am not sad though. I saw a ton of them and they made me very happy. There were monkeys in the trees on the way to the restaurant. There were monkeys while horseback riding. There were monkeys above the pool. There were monkeys to feed on hikes. I got my fill of monkeys. They are so adorable OH OH! There were BABY monkeys! Baby monkeys so small that, if I were to hold them, would have fit in the palm of my hand. So cute. They rode casually on their mothers’ backs while she flew from branch to branch and hung them both from her tail. And they have sweet, curious little eyes. Sigh.

TBU and I have only seen 3 episodes but we’ve already had an American Idol party. It wasn’t planned but it happened. Wednesday night we were supposed to play pool at The Catalyst with TBU’s boss and his girlfriend. But were are unimaginably dorky so TBU called to say we’d be late because American Idol was on. And instead of just accepting this information TBU’s boss say’s, “Oh, we’ll come watch it with you.” Whaaaaaa? I was in my pajamas, TBU was cooking dinner, the house was a mess and it was 8:15. Idol starts at 9. These are people who earn into the high six figures and they want to watch American Idol on our Craigslist couch, in our one bedroom apartment, where the pipes could burst at any moment? I panicked, I don’t like being judged by people more successfuul at life than me. No, they’re not like that. But maybe in a tiny wayback part of their brain they are. And it was that tiny part I feared.

In the end, I was drunk by the time they got here. The house also looked fabulous. I can accomplish a lot in 45 minutes. Somehow, people going all out for their (never going to happen) dreams, makes for a really good time. Then we played pool.

Yesterday I came home and was greeted by a dead rat next to my car. It was minimally bloody but almost completely flat. The best(?) part was that his/her anus had exploded. But not in a gross, showy fashion. It kind of just expanded. Like a balloon. It was bizaare. I had to force myself to stop staring, for the rat’s sake. I certainly wouldn’t want anyone to stare at my exploded anus while I lay helpless. I couldn’t stop thinking about it though and I kept talking about it to TBU. I called it Exploded Anus Rat so many times I had to shorten it to EAR, which became Earl. Someone ran over it just the right way and Earl became gross to look at. By this morning he was gone completely. I wonder who took it upon themselves to take Earl away.

The Millionizer has more, but she’ll just save it for later

[tags]Costa Rica, monkeys, Anna Nichole Smith, American Idol [/tags]