The late night show

OK, this is why I can't go to sleep early like normal people. I came home from work, watched the assy Scott Baio and completely crashed on the couch (lights on, clothes on, TV blaring) somewhere around 10:30 or 11. I woke up at 3. I'm still tired, but it's after 4 now and I CANNOT GO BACK TO SLEEP!

Dawson's Creek was on at 3. It was the one where Joey's dad gets out of prison. It was also the one where that girl Abby, the one who goes on to get impaled in a train accident on Grey's Anatomy, topples over drunk into the ocean and dies. In other words, it was a VERY SPECIAL EPISODE. And it ended with Joey and Dawson making out as their parents watched, which was just weird on several different levels and perhaps a little inappropriate since, you know, there were people dying and all.

I still cannot get over the fact that JOEY POTTER is married to TOM CRUISE. I still find Pacey strangely hot. I still think Dawson is a big whiny baby, and I still can't believe I totally used to tape this show and watch it religiously. It's almost unwatchable to me now. Really, though, it was unwatchable after the third season, which is when all my favorite shows die (Ally McBeal, Grey's Anatomy--maybe--I'm looking at you). It peaked when Pacey bought Joey the wall, and then I stopped watching when they went to college. I watched the series finale, though, and bawled my freaking eyes out. It was like I was saying goodbye to a whole era of my life. Although the thought that an era of my life was defined by a show starring James Van Der Beek and a bunch of teenagers who wax philosophical about things like "intuitive insight" is maybe not the best thing to admit.

OK, random note. Have you ever seen the BBC show Footballers Wives? Totally crazy show. They were supposed to do a U.S. version, and James Van Der Beek was supposed to play one of the NFL players. HA. Ha ha ha.

So anyway, Dawson's Creek is over and now it's all infomercials and VH1 videos. There's this one infomercial called "Midnight Soul" that is cracking me up. It's a collection of songs to get you in the mood to get busy. Songs by people like ... Color me Badd and Al B. Sure. HA HA. Tick-tock, you don't stop!

OK, Fergie's on VH1 right now. It's the song I don't want to admit I like. It's ... Big Girls Don't Cry. I KNOW! I know, I know. OK, so this video: I don't really buy Milo Ventimiglia's fake tattoos. I think Fergie needs to put on a bra. And I STILL do not understand how she landed herself Josh Duhamel (aka the hottest person I have ever met). He is gorgeous. She is ... not gorgeous.

I think I'm the only person on the planet who doesn't like that Maroon 5 song Makes Me Wonder. I am SICK of it! And WTF is up with the video, anyway? He's in a tux walking through an airport? OK, James Bond. Now he's getting frisked by a bunch of hot security chicks. That's a shocker--Adam Levine making sure he gets felt up by a bunch of women.

Anyway, the best Maroon 5 song is still Harder to Breathe.

Oh. My. Goodness. I just flipped channels and COPS is on!! HA HA HA. There are literally SIX COPS wrestling ONE GUY to the ground right now. He was trying to beat them up with a crescent wrench. I'm serious. Now they've got him in cuffs and they're all standing around with their hands on their hips, breathing heavy, and the one cop says it's the THIRD time they've dealt with this guy. He has red hair and a mustache and he's PISSED.

OK, speaking of cops, I used to live next door to the biggest crack ho ever. Too bad I didn't have a blog then ... oh, the stories. The STORIES! I seriously started researching crystal meth on the Internet because I thought for sure she had a lab in her apartment. Ohhhh, you have no idea. I think I've repressed most of that year ... it's just a blur of late-night screamfests and red-and-blue flashing lights.

HA! The cop on Cops just found a gun hidden in a BAG OF BARBEQUE POTATO CHIPS!

Gloria, a white-haired grandmother, lost 10 pounds doing 60-second bursts on the Leg Magic System. Just an FYI.

Oh, boy. I just discovered that I have the Lifetime Movie Channel now. I am SO not opening THAT Pandora's box.

Sometimes a picture really does say it all

So I work with this guy who decided it was a good idea to keep a can of soda on the ledge of his cubicle. For, like, ever. Eventually, this can of soda exploded, spilling onto the adjoining cubicle wall. No one cleaned it up. The guy who owned the can of soda thought the janitorial staff should have done it. The guy who was in the cubicle next to him thought the guy who owned the can of soda should have done it. Personally, I think they were all waiting for a woman to come over and do it, but that's neither here nor there. The point is, there is now a stain on the cubicle wall. A stain that looks something like ... this.

Updates, schmupdates

In no particular order ...

* I finished Harry Potter, and I won't say anything because I don't want anyone to reach through their computer screen and inflict bodily harm on me if they haven't finished it yet, but I will say I loved it. I thought it ended perfectly, and I can't believe she was able to do it so beautifully. Is that vague enough? I hope so.

* There have been no snake sightings in a while. Some people would consider that a very positive sign. Not me. Noooo way. I've seen those movies on USA late at night. More likely, the snakes are holed up somewhere, getting bigger by the day, waiting for the moment I run outside in the dark, barefoot and pajama-clad and vulnerable, to take out the trash and meet my untimely, gruesome death.

* Scott Baio is officially an ass. What did he say that last episode? Something like, "Why apologize when you can just walk away?" I hope his tiny little penis shrivels up and falls off and he never has sex again. And yet ... I will continue to watch the show.

* So, remember the car rental debacle? I took the car back, and this really cute guy named Matt was behind the counter. He looked at the car and did all that stuff, and then he was like, "So how was everything when you picked it up? Were you happy with everything?" And my face froze for a second, and then I just started laughing, and he was like, "What? What?" I kept laughing, and I was like, "It's seriously not a big deal. It just took a little while--"

Just then, at that EXACT MOMENT, Traci the Ditzy Car Rental Girl appeared out of nowhere and waltzed right up to the counter! I seriously think she had some kind of radar going. So I clapped my mouth shut and smiled sweetly and tried to send Matt telepathic vibes not to ask me any more questions in front of Traci, because if he did I would have totally lost it and started laughing again and it would have been awkward for everyone. It worked! We must have had a mental connection! He let it drop ... but he DID slip me his card with a discount code on the back for the next time I want to rent a car. A discount I'll probably never use. But yay anyway!

* I have officially had re-pierced ears for nine days now. I almost feel like an actual grown-up! Except I realized almost right away that apparently I have a habit of tugging on my earlobe when I'm trying to think. I've had to nip that in the bud REAL quick. The other day, I was talking on the phone and sort of just mindlessly tugged on my other ear, and HOLY PAIN! It huuuuuuuurt!

* I am back on my running program. I went out of town, and then I decided to be in a funk for a week, and then I went out of town again, but I am BACK! I went all last week and again tonight, and yes, I feel like a total freaking rock star right now. Although, let's be honest, running still sucks.

* This isn't an update, but I am fairly certain I have seen Lindsay Lohan's mug shot 3,876 times today.

The DNA of your personality

OK, if you've got 10 minutes to kill, this is kind of fun.



That's what it says I am. I answered the questions pretty fast, but it actually describes me pretty well, I think (except for the sense of style ... ha), so I'll paste it in. It means ...

(OK, I originally I DID paste it in, but then it just looked long to me, so if you want to read it, you can go here instead.)

ANYWAY. If you take it, tell me what you are and, in a nutshell, what it means. I'm going to read Harry Potter some more (by the way, this is a SPOILER-FREE ZONE!!!) so happy rest of the weekend!

What the HELL

It has been a thoroughly craptastic week so far, which I attribute in part to the huge letdown from Manic Sunday. But seriously! You know how sometimes you're like, OK, I'm going to have an AWESOME week? And then it's like the world starts conspiring against you to make sure it's anything BUT awesome? WHY DOES THAT HAPPEN? It's like the Murphy's Law of life and I think it SUCKS.

Hey, I just thought of something. What would The Secret lady say to THAT, I wonder? Huh? I am putting a LOT of good stuff out into the world, so WHAT THE HELL?!?!

Oh, well. I'll just do what I always do, which is to say, "Well, the good stuff just took a wrong turn, but it's coming for me" and then eat some chocolate and go to bed and hope tomorrow's less craptastic.

I'm going to totally change the subject now. Have you seen Scott Baio is 45 and Single? I find that show strangely, strangely compelling. And thanks to VH1 and its magical rotating schedule, I've seen it (or at least parts of it) like three times this week.

So the obvious appeal is that I had a little crush on Scott Baio when he was on Charles in Charge. But the rest of it ... I'm not sure, because he comes off as kind of an immature ass. But then again, he's sort of amusingly self-deprecating, too. And then there's the random stuff. Like, when did he become BFF with the big brother from Wonder Years? Has he gotten Botox, or just aged well? And of course, my favorite: Does he really, as Erin Moran revealed, have a small penis?

These are the things, my friends, that will keep me tuning in.

My other summer guilty pleasure is the World Series of Pop Culture. Obviously. Oh, and Kathy Griffin. What's yours?

Just another Manic Sunday

What a FUNNY day ... ha ha ha.

OK, but first I'm going to backtrack and tell you a random thing that happened Saturday. I was sitting outside at this sidewalk cafe, eating lunch and working on my laptop, when this kid comes up to me.

Kid: "Hey, can you give me some money for my basketball team?"
Me: "Um ... no."
Kid: "What? Are you kidding me? You don't want my team to win? You don't want us to be good? Come ON, lady."
Me: "Sorry, I don't have any cash on me. Good luck, though."
Kid: "Aw, man, you've got to be JOKING. What kind of person are you, you don't want a basketball team to do good?"

All of a sudden, his friend appears with a handful of clothes: "Look what I got!"

One second later--I mean, literally, ONE SECOND--this huge guy comes barreling down the sidewalk and starts WHALING on the kid. He's all, "You think you can just come in my store and steal things? Huh? I don't THINK so." And the kid's all, "Hey, man, get off me! The receipt's in my pocket! The receipt's in my pocket!" And I'M all, "Dude, do NOT crash into my open laptop right now or I will beat BOTH your asses." I'm totally standing up, shielding my poor little baby Presario as they go at it right next to me. Finally, the guy's like, "Fine. Show me your receipts." He lets go of the kid's shirt for a split second and ...

Hell, yeah, the kid took off running, along with his little con artist friend. Thankfully, they did not take my poor, scared laptop with them. For many reasons, not the least of which is that I wouldn't be able to tell you about my Manic Sunday if they had!

OK. Time for a little backstory. When I was at Manic's house on Friday night, I was talking to her daughter. I was like, "Your earrings are so cute!" And then I was all, "I got my ears pierced when I was 10 and they closed up. I seriously want to get them pierced again someday." And Manic's all, "Helllllo! We'll get them pierced on Sunday!" And I was like, "Seriously?!" And she's all, "YEAH! Seriously!"

So that's what we decided to do.

But first, OF COURSE, we had to eat, because ear piercing requires strength and sustenance. I ordered a hamburger and fries, because I am going to be a really good eater starting tomorrow, so I had to get my last meal in, and also because I haven't had a decent hamburger in FOREVER! You guys, it was so juicy, it dribbled down my chin. And it came with garlic fries! GARLIC! (Which meant two things: Gum the rest of the day for both of us, and no Swishy-makes-out-with-random-local-boys stories this time. Sometimes you just have to sacrifice.)



I'm seriously going to be having dreams about that meal for the next week.

Properly fortified, we walk over to the ear piercing place.

Manic: "Are you OK?"
Me: (giggles)
Manic: "That's your nervous laugh!"
Me: (giggles again)
Manic: "Ohhhhh, boy."

My ear-piercing guru, Amy, sits me down on the little seat, which is conveniently right next to a window so everyone inside AND outside can stare at me.

Me: "I feel like I'm 10."
Amy: "Oh, you're not even close to the oldest person I've had! I had a 72-year-old woman in here once!"

I don't feel much better. Meanwhile, a crowd is quickly forming. (Manic's seriously like, "We are SO Nicky and Paris right now!" because of all the people watching.) I can barely fill out my stupid little form, so Manic takes over.

Manic: "OK, you should do both ears at the same time, so it's over quick."
Amy: "All right." (Yells to the front of the store.) "Tiffany! I need you to come help me with a double."
Manic: "Wait! Has Tiffany ever pierced ears before?"
Me: "GREAT QUESTION." (Pause.) "I am SO glad you're here, Manic."

It's a yes on Tiffany. They get ready to pierce my ears, and Manic gets ready to take my picture. OR SO I THINK. Apparently, while I'm waiting for her to take the damn picture for posterity already, she's actually RECORDING THE WHOLE THING. So ... I will end the story there by saying I now have two lovely little white-gold balls in my ears, which I hope don't cause a raging infection like they did when I was 10. If you really want to see the live-action version, you can go here. Since, as luck would have it, I not only happened to visit the week Manic discovered the video function on her digital camera, I also happened to visit the week Manic discovered YouTube. On the bright side, if there has to be video of me on the Internet, at least I'm wearing underwear.

Manic buys me a pair of earrings for being such a brave little girl and we set off for Barnes and Noble. We read the first chapter of Emily Giffin's latest book, out next year (it's in the back of the Baby Proof paperback), and promptly FREAK OUT because it's so damn good and we want to read the whole thing right this second. We look at a calendar of bunnies committing 12 different, random forms of suicide, one for each month. (Don't worry. They're fake bunnies. But it's still twisted.) We look at all the books, and talk about all the authors, and the entire time all I can do is finger my balls. (HA. But it's true!)

Seriously, guaranteed--no two people can have more fun in a bookstore than Manic and me. We go and look at books every time we hang out, and it's always fun. BUT ... after we left, we decided we needed more creative inspiration in our lives. Specifically, I'm shoving chocolate Frosty in my mouth when Manic announces: "We need to find ourselves a muse."

Me: "A ... what? A muse?"
Manic: "Yeah! We need muses!"
Me (Frosty dribbling out of my mouth and on to my T-shirt): "OK!"

So, the muse search officially begins. We found two little heart-shaped, red-white-and-blue paperweights, but we nixed them after a while because they were too Fourth of July-ie. Manic liked some wooden man bent over with his head in his lap, but it kind of creeped me out. ("Do you realize what it looks like he's doing?!" I asked. "Well ... wouldn't you, if you could?" replied pragmatic Manic.) Besides, there was only one and we HAD to have two.

Finally, we hit the $7.99 muse jackpot. It's like the thinking man, only it's a woman.



(They're not TOTALLY identical ... Manic's is the one with the bigger boobs, which is how we can tell them apart!)

So look out ... with our muses watching over us, we shall take over the world!

OK, last thing. I get home, and there's a package in the mail. I'm like, "Who sent me a package?!" I tear it open, and ... wait. Remember this? OK, good.

I open it up, and ...



Oh, wait--there's more!



Ha ha ha ha ha ha. And she kept it a secret the WHOLE TIME!

Driver's ed

Guess who I (as in "iiiiiiiiii") saw tonight? My BBFF Manic! Are you jealous? You should be because Manic is soooo fun and Manic and Swishy together is like SUPER fun! There will be stories ... oh, yes, there will be stories!

In the meantime, I'm going to tell you my car rental story because it was so ridiculous and the only thing that kept me from rolling my eyes right out of my head was the thought that I could blog about it later.

So I walk up to the counter and I get this blonde girl named Traci. She finds my reservation, she goes to pull the car around ... so far, so good.

And then she reappears, minus a car. "Um," she says, "I'm confused."

The manager asks her what's up. "The key says it's to a black Saturn, but there's only a silver one back there," she says.

Manager: "Did you try it to see if it worked?"
Traci: "Well, yeah."
Manager: "And did it?"
Traci: "Well ... yeah."
Manager: "OK, so give it to her, and we'll fix the label on the key later."

Traci disappears. Within seconds, we hear a vacuum start up.

Manager, to other employee: "What the HELL is she doing back there?"
Employee (sighs): "I'll go check."

Other employee disappears.

Manager, under her breath: "She's not exactly the brightest one."

Seconds later, the vacuum stops. Employee comes back. "OK, she'll have the car up front in just a second."

Manager: "She does that all the time. I'll finish vacuuming a car, and five minutes later she's back there vacuuming it again." Pause. "OK, I feel bad. I shouldn't have said that."

Me: Nervous laughter.

Minutes tick by. There's no sign of Traci OR the Saturn.

Manager, to other employee: "Will you PLEASE go check on her?"

Other employee sighs again: "It's hard work being the smartest person here." He disappears.

Manager, to me: "I know we sound mean. I know we do. I'm sorry. But seriously, isn't there one in every office? The one who just has rocks for brains? She's ours. I would LOVE to meet the person who hired her. I swear I have no idea what they were thinking."

At long last, I see my car. I meet her outside, and we do the little walkaround. She stops at the gas tank. "OK, this is where you put the gas. You open it like this (demonstrates) and then close it like this (demonstrates). Don't worry about putting that expensive gas in there or anything--the regular stuff is fine. Do you want to try it?"

Granted, I didn't pump gas until college. But college was a LONG time ago and I've pumped a LOT of gas since then. I assure her that I've got it.

Her: "OK, let's get in the car. You sit in the driver's seat, I'll sit in the passenger seat."
Me: "Umm ... all right."
Her: "OK, now, this is the radio. You turn it on like this (demonstrates) and change the stations like this (demonstrates). And this is your blinker. You do a right arrow like this (demonstrates) and a left one--"
Me: "Actually, you know what? I rented a car just like this a few weeks ago on a work trip. That one was even silver, too! So I think I'm OK."
Her (leaning back against the seat): "I'm so tired. I totally want to go to the pool. I swear I'm going as soon as I'm done with work."
Me: (awkward silence)
Her: "OK, so anyway. This? This is for the windshield wipers. They go on just like this (demonstrates)."

(This goes on for several minutes.)

Her: "Finally, we offer this great coverage, where if you get in an accident, you don't have to pay a deductible or anything--we'll take care of the whole thing."
Me: "I think I'm going to pass, but thank you."
Her: "I really don't think you want to do that. What if someone sideswipes you? What if you rear-end someone?"
Me: "Well, I mean, my credit card has coverage ... I'm just going to decline, if that's OK."
Her: "I'm serious. I really think you should at least get the basic coverage."

And on and on, until finally she relinquishes the clipboard: "Fine, if that's what you want. When you sign that, you're acknowledging that I've told you all about the insurance. And when you say you 'acknowledge' it, it means you understand."

And here I thought it meant ... well, I don't know WHAT I thought it meant! But now I know!

I swear the whole thing took almost 45 minutes. Serenity, serenity, serenity now.

I bought myself a present today

It's cute, right? I went to the Hallmark store to get a card, and I thought it was cute, so I got it. (Side note: Hallmark has this new line of the most awesome cards EVER! They're cute, stylish little cards ... with TV QUOTES ON THEM! Including three Grey's Anatomy ones. I wanted to buy every single one of them. They were awesome.)

So anyway. Cute mug, huh? Inspiring, right?

Well, not THAT inspiring.

I almost lived boldly tonight. I almost took a risk. But I finally decided that some risks just aren't worth taking.

Did I almost jump in the car and head for Mexico? Did I nearly make mad, passionate love to a sexy stranger? Did I flirt with getting a tattoo of George Clooney in some unmentionable place? Oh, no.

I almost went a night with no toilet paper in the house.

I'm an idiot. I NEVER run out of toilet paper. There's a roll in the other bathroom, for one thing, plus an extra roll under the sink in the other bathroom. So if I run out in my bathroom, I just grab a roll from the other bathroom and then replace it later.

Well ... I did that. Twice. And then I forgot to replace them. So tonight, I'm talking to my friends and getting ready to go home after dinner, and I'm like, "Ughh. I totally have to stop at the grocery store to get toilet paper." They laugh, and I leave. Ten minutes later I'm in the grocery store, buying yogurt and eggs and chocolate chips. I go home, unpack the groceries and--

Ohhhhh, shit. Shit! No toilet paper. I totally forgot to get it. After saying OUT LOUD 10 minutes earlier that I had to get some. After making the trip FOR THAT VERY REASON. Of COURSE, after all that, I forgot to get it.

OK, at this point it's like 10:45. I'm tired, I haven't been home all night. The LAST thing I want to do is get back in the car and drive to the grocery store for a freaking four-pack of Charmin. So I start strategizing.

Option No. 1: Hold it until I go to work tomorrow. (But won't I get a bladder infection? And what if, um, some leaks out?) Option No. 2: Use a paper towel. (But won't that clog my toilet? And, you know, chafe?) Option No. 3: Find some Kleenex and use that. (Good idea until I realize there is no Kleenex.) Option No. 4: Pretend I'm four years old and pee in the shower tomorrow morning and then throw bleach in the tub as soon as I'm done.

I know. It's disgusting. I KNOW! But is it really THAT horrible? It is SO WRONG that Option No. 4 was starting to look so appealing in the absence of any better alternatives?

All right, FINE. It is. So off to the grocery store I went. I suppose I will have to live dangerously in other ways.



So sad. I mean, really.

Absolutely 1,000 percent random

I am a sleepy, sleepy girl (it's 3 a.m.!) so I'm going to spew out 60 seconds of random thoughts and then hit you with a real post later. Deal? Deal.

* I did not work out one day last week. Not one day. I'm pretty sure I gained 80 pounds. So I have to go, like, every day this week to make up for it.

* I also did not clean. The place is disgusting right now. I was running around this morning looking for my flip-flops, and I finally found them on the side of the toilet in the bathroom. I took them off in there, and then kicked them to the side after I tripped over them in the middle of the night. Meanwhile, my mail is on the bathroom sink, there's a granola bar wrapper next to the toothpaste ... it's a mess. I am SO cleaning everything tomorrow.

* Speaking of flip-flops, I forgot to tell you about this guy I saw during all the Fourth festivities. He had these flip-flops on, the kind with a thicker sole, and there was a flask wedged into the sole on each foot! He took them off and showed me. Lest you think it was merely for appearance, he informed me that they hold a lot more alcohol than you'd think. A LOT.

* My eyes are KILLING me! Late, late at night, I get this compulsive urge to rub the crap out of them. I think maybe my moisturizer gets in my eyes or something. It's happening right now and it's DRIVING ME CRAZY!

* Chris Klein is a dork. He's on TV right now.

* And Jack White is weird. (I just flipped the channel.)

* I got my hair cut yesterday. Just a little trim, nothing crazy. I'm kind of liking it longish right now. The best thing ever about my hairdresser is that she gives me a little scalp massage after she washes my hair. Ahhhhh. I love it.

* Someone who lives near me got a dog, I think. I can hear the thing yapping out on the balcony right now. Maybe it had a bad dream. Do dogs dream?

OK, I'm out. I'm going to be a much better blogger this week, though! Happy (ha) Monday!

There are such nice people in the world!

And one of them happens to be the sweet and lovely Jenster. I staggered home from yet another crappy day and what did I see on my doorstep? A package! From Jenster!



I can't even tell you how much this made my day. Such a nice, fun surprise!

So I've been a pretty lame blogger again this week. Did everyone have a good Fourth? It was very, very hard for me to wrestle myself away from the season three Project Runway marathon on Bravo, but I did it. (Really, though, is that not what our founding fathers fought for? The right to stay home from work, lie on the couch in your pajamas and watch catty designers on cable?)

Anyway, my friend and I sat outside at an oyster bar and got a big, old bucket of crawfish (messy! but yummy!) and then went to a Fourth of July concert and fireworks. The fireworks were awesome. Unfortunately, the fireworks PICTURES didn't turn out so great (this is by FAR the best one) ...



... but the obligatory feet-in-the-grass one did!



So it was fun. And thank goodness it's almost the weekend again. I wish every Wednesday was a holiday!

Happy Friday, everyone. More later ... but now it's time to take a bath with one of my Jenster bath fizzies! Fun!

She's alive!

Ohhh, life has been crazy lately. I'm sorry. A lot has happened, and I don't know what to say about any of it. I really don't. I need to sort it all out in my head a little more first, I guess.

However, I DEFINITELY cannot be Miss 1-900-Angst-a-Lot in this post, because the fabulous Jenster dubbed me a Rockin' Girl Blogger this weekend, and hello, I need to act the part! (Jenster, by the way, is a pretty rockin' girl blogger herself, as are all of the girls--and guys--who stop by my little corner of the blog world. I am very, very lucky!)

OK. So I'm going to jump around a little. Titanic is on right now, and now I remember why I didn't jump on the Leo DiCaprio train 10 years ago--he looks like a boy in this movie, and I like me some men. But since he looks like a man now (have you SEEN The Departed?!), I can look at him differently. As a result, I'm here to tell you that I would totally let Leonardo DiCaprio draw me naked and wearing only a blue diamond necklace. That's the conclusion I've come to after careful consideration. I also could potentially be coerced into crawling into the backseat of a car with him. MAYBE.

I got the funniest phone call tonight. Ohhh, I laughed. This guy I used to know years ago called me out of the blue. "Swishy," he says, "I think about you all the time."

Me: "Who is this?"
Him: "You still have that nice butt?"
Me: "WHAT?!" (immediately start cracking up)
Him: "I'm serious. You probably had no idea how bad you are. I bet you have brothers hollering at you all the time."
Me: (still laughing) "Who IS this?"
Him: "I love you. I mean, I LOVE you. But you would never give me any play. So I gave myself some time to lick my wounds, and now I'm trying again. See if you're ready for a man, instead of that boy Chris (a guy I kinda hung out with back then)."
Me (still laughing): "Hi, Michael."

I seriously hadn't talked to this guy in years. I was like, thank you, Michael, for boosting my self-esteem for a few minutes ... talk to you again in two years. Ha ha. Seriously, that's exactly what will happen. It's so funny and random.

Finally, I was at Borders yesterday in the cafe area doing some work, when (of course) I overheard the conversation behind me. I SWEAR this is what the woman said, because I actually wrote it down while she was talking:

"I know this man, his name's Bill Bommer. Well, that WAS his name. On his 50th birthday, he legally changed his name to Ken Kasey. That was his present to himself. I mean, he's not a strange person. He just always wanted his name to be Ken."

Which begs the question: If you could change your name to anything, what would it be?