Disjointed? Yes.

Interesting? Perhaps.

I don't write for you, I write for myself.

Just FYI.

Sometimes I get in a really good mood, and I'll start thinking that I have a crush. I love crushes. They're so fun for so many reasons. That feeling of newness: new excitement, new possibilities...newness is always an interesting feeling.

Maybe it's the false sense of hope that I enjoy the most. Either way, crushes occupy time, and I could certainly use a few interruptions.

For some reason, I have this aversion to laziness. I hate being lazy. I always get this feeling of "What else could I be doing besides laying on the couch? There's so much going on outside, or somewhere else, and YOU'RE MISSING OUT! Hurry!"

That feeling really annoys me. Why can't I lay in bed for an insane amount of time without feeling like I should be going somewhere, doing something, or seeing somebody? I blame my Mother. I don't blame her too much, since, afterall, she's my biggest fan. But for my entire life, my Mom got out of bed and started her day at 5am. Seriously, 5:04am at the latest. My Mom does more in a day than I do in a week.

So, while my Mom is saving the world on Saturday mornings, I'd be laying in bed waiting for Aladdin to come on TV. This was about 15 years ago, but there's a very good chance that this could reoccur on any Saturday morning, both present and future. Anyway, as soon as I heard the theme song "Arabian Niiiiiiiights, like Arabian Daaaaays," I'd instantly fall back asleep. I just needed to hear the jingle to know that everything was okay, and it was safe to sleep. I used to do the same thing on Sunday nights, but with Baywatch. "I'lllllll be ready" put me to sleep instantaneously. It wasn't like I fell asleep out of boredom, it was just the peace of knowing that it was safe to fall asleep at any point in the next half hour. Like comfort food, these were comfort jingles.

I was physically incapable of falling asleep during a TV show that I did not like. If I heard the M*A*S*H jingle come on, it's like I couldn't change the channel quick enough. I'd never be able to fall asleep during that. I don't care how long that show stayed on air--it was stupid.

I can remember one Christmas, my whole family was going to travel to Indiana to spend the holiday with my Grandma, Grandpa, and Aunt Sandy. This presented a problem though. I felt like I was abandoning my stuffed animals during a very important time. I mean, how would I feel if I had to spend Christmas in the closet? Oh wait...

Anyway, I wouldn't like that at all.

So I gathered up alllllll of my stuffed animals. We're talking about A LOT of stuffed animals. I had a thing for them because, at that point in my life, I wanted to work at a zoo therefore housing 75 animals of all sorts and sizes was a prerequisite to my future. Although, I sometimes had a problem with my Popple. I was always faced with the uncertainty of "What animal are you supposed to be?!" I always felt like my Popple was so alone amid the lions, tigers, and bears...or at least scared for his life. Therefore I positioned them on seperate sides of the bed. I think he felt more at ease with the Gloworms. Anyway, I literally positioned all of my stuffed animals in an upright and alert position on my bed. I wanted them to share the holiday together, since I couldn't be there. How weird. The only reason I thought about this was because during my last trip home, I went up to the attic to look for some Christmas lights. During my search I ran across some old friends sitting in a box haphazardly. This didn't sit right with me, so I gave them a quick hello and positioned them tightly together in the box so that they could keep warm up in that cold, cold attic.

It's fun revisiting your childhood. Even when you think you're all grown up, you can hear or see something that takes you back to where you started. I know for a fact that if I saw Mrs. Jacobson (my 5th grade teacher) tonight, I'd still have a HUGE crush on her, even though she's so not my type. At all.

I'd probably still ask her how to pronounce a word from a story I was reading during library time, even though I knew how to pronounce, spell, and define every word in the book.

How do you end the constant replay? How do you let yourself accept the fact that it's over...for good? How do you move on?

How?

I wish I knew because I can't seem to do it. Just get over it...like it's that easy. I can't stop replaying the moments. Or should I say THE moment. The moment I knew. The moment I knew that goodbye was inevitable and that their would be no more hello's.

We were great talkers. We could talk for hours on end, mostly about nothing, but it meant everything. Our words were everything, it's all we had. Then came our time together. At first it was weird. It was like I had to prove myself, I had to show you the reasons why you should love me forever. That's so sad.

But we seemed to click. Right? Or was that just me?

Shit. That was totally just me.

So, maybe we didn't click. I met your friends. They loved me. I think. I tried really hard to fit into your life, or atleast I tried to make it a seamless transition. This was accomplished by swallowing all of my fears in order to make it work. Now that I think about it, how did I do it? I was so scared, but I couldn't let you know that...let alone SEE it. My heart is always worn on my sleeve, but I sometimes roll them up.

I didn't sleep much that night. You did though. You slept next to me, without stirring, while I pondered our existance. Why was I even there? Granted I didn't want to be sleeping anywhere else but beside you, but I wonder, did it mean the same to you?...as it did to me?

I couldn't sense it, if it did. I eventually fell asleep. I had a dream--you were in it. I woke up 2 hours after I had fallen asleep. It was 4:46.

I kept dreaming the same dream that entire night. It started and stopped, started and stopped. But it was always the same. And you were always in it. People dream when they want more out of life. Sometimes a dream is the only chance we get to find what we're looking for. Sometimes a dream is the only way we get what we want. Sometimes a dream is the only time our feelings feel real. Sometimes a dream is as close as we get. That dream was just a dream, and it was all I had.

At 4:46 you were snoring.

That morning when I woke up, the dream was over.
And so were we.

Wait, did I already tell you that story before? Oh you hadn't heard? Yeah, that's just a small part of my life that's been on the backburner...simmering.

Of course you didn't know. No one seems to know. I have two older brothers -- Scott & Michael. They're 10+ years older than my sister, Kelly, and myself. For my parents, it was kind of like growing up with two sets of children. They raised the two boys upon the flowing countrysides of Illinois, literally in the middle of a cornfield. Nine years later, out comes the first girl. Then me. And here we are. I'm the baby and the most special, of course. People always assume it's just us two. For all of my life it's been Kelly and Ryan. Don't forget about the first two. They're important.

I don't know why but it just tastes so good. Mom always reached on tip toes for the brown box on the highest shelf in the middle cupboard, just above the marshmallows and popcorn kernels. She made me pudding because she knew I loved it. Now, Jello Pudding Cups always make my day better. For whatever reason. I just love it. Once from a box, now from a cup.

Do you still think about me? I still think about you. All of the time.

If I'm running late, I've been known for skipping the entire event. For some reason, I'd rather be seen as absent than late. I told her I didn't come because I was in the hospital. That was a lie. I didn't come because I was late. Afterwards, she came to the hospital to visit me. They couldn't find my name on the ER list. I wasn't there, obviously. Even though I lied, I learned that shrewd, mean woman who seemingly hated me...cared enough to make sure I was okay.

I didn't feel a thing, although I did see a light. My best friend Donna and I are home alone at my town-house in Galva, Illinois. Meterologist James Zahara is on the TV saying a tornado is coming and to hide in your bathtub. Donna and I run into the basement instead and hide underneath the ping pong table. I used to be so good at ping pong, but maybe my Dad was just letting me be good. I don't know. I always kicked Donna's ass, though. So, we're hiding, hoping something cool happens. And it did. A pole comes smashing through the basement window, powerlines still attached. It stretches past the ping pong table and the live wires dance happily, with one asking me to join. They clung to my body, even though I tried to get away. Too slow. Electrocuted on the basement floor. Two weeks later I woke up in a hospital bed, Mom was watching One Life to Live beside me. Little did she know I had two.

"Actually, we have another one in the back, he's kind of rowdy though." From the moment I touched him, I knew.

So, I'm cruising around Davenport, handing out resumes left and right. I stopped at the TV news offices, stopped at a couple of newspaper places. Stopped at the mall. I was hungry from all that desperation. Popped into A&F and tried on a pair of jeans. The more holes the better I thought. Out pops this quirky, funky girl. "Hey, have you ever thought about a job with A&F" she says to me. "Um, no, but here's my resume." 20 laps around the mall later on a pop-up interview, I'm hired. "Move to Iowa City, it has the best store around." she popped out of the door to say as I walked away. Flash forward a year - little did I know it contained some nasty, evil people. A few good ones, though too. I remember having a hicky on my very first day. I wore a zip-up sweater to conceal it. It was August. I popped the collar. I know, I'm ashamed. So poppy. Ay, papi.

"It's seriously coming down hard, I hate walking in the rain..." I said, standing under the brick building overhang. "C'mon, let's just go." he shot back with a smile.

I remember sitting at my desk in my comfy little dorm room, fixing, primping...making it perfect, thesaurus at my side. I walked to class without a shred of hope, "She'll hate it." I thought. I read it aloud, with the six of us around the table, critiquing. "Ryan Sumner, you ARE a writer" she said. Knowing the kind of person she was, and how much I feared her, she changed my life with those very words.

Can I ask you a question? Can I kiss you?

I left her outside. I was cold, wet, and miserable...I had to go in. She stayed behind. I took off my snowsuit, took off my boots and gloves and placed them next to the smoldering wood embers within the fireplace. My parents went outside, leaving me alone with my brothers who let me watch a scary cartoon -- something where Donald Duck had pointy teeth and a vengeance. I cried under my sheets for my sister, and because Donald was acting so different. Where had she gone? In my mind, all I can remember is them finding her outside, alone. I cried for her. I didn't mean to leave. I don't even know if she knows it happened. I don't even know if it happened. It still hurts, though.

Why did I stay in the backseat like that? He got out, she got out. I stayed in. Was it weird for you, too? Probably. I came off cold. I didn't mean to. Actually, I really didn't mean to. Things didn't go as I hoped they would. I think it was my fault. I carry that guilt around to this very day. That was a long plane ride home.

"Look, Bennett -- 'All About Beans!'" it read. 10 books, 1 g-string, and 3 beers later, it was the best after hours I had been to.

Since I was too young to remember, she told me the story. However, my brothers weren't too young, and they remembered all too well. She cried as she remembered. It was the worst day of her life. It was the worst feeling of her life. "He would have killed us all. He wrote it down on his suicide note. He wanted us dead." She hid us kids in the coat closet at the bottom of the stairs and stood in front of the door, the phone to her ear waiting for my Dad to pick up. "Get here now, he's trying to get in!" She remembers screaming...my Dad remembered hearing. He came just in time. 2 shots later, we were safe.

I sat on that beach, so alone, but the blue was so amazing.

I hope my life never ends. So interesting, so far.

Look at you. Completely helpless, dirty, begging me to spare your miserable life. I have needs too.

I don't want to give you up. I don't want to stop liking you. I don't want to stop thinking about you, thinking about when the next time I'll see you, the next time I'll taste you.

But at the same time, I don't want to think that just because your life sucks, mine should too.

I didn't ask to be who I am, or the position I was put in. I didn't ask for any of it. But yet you want me to completely change my life around for you? Like it's so easy?

I wish I could, but I can't.

I love meat.

Sorry PETA.

*Please do not eat Butterball, Tyson, Oscar Meyer, or any other processed meat. They're mean to the turkeys, chickens, cows, pigs, and other animals. It's sick. But at the same time, I can't be a vegetarian. I'm WEAK. I'll only consult my local dairy and butcher for meat and dairy products from now on.*

So, can I be depressing for a second?

Sweet, thanks.

Sometimes, do you ever feel like you're going to die alone?

I do.

There's something very disturbing about leaving for work in darkness, and then leaving work, only to find that the night never left.

The last few months have been devestatingly hard, perhaps my hardest yet. In this time I've seen countless obstacles that, for me, I've easily maneuvered past; while others have swallowed me whole.

You know me. Well, some of you do. I try to take control over everything in my life. No, I won't try to control your life, I'm just protective of my own. You treat me well? You have a place in my heart. You treat me poorly? You'll never be seen again. That's just the way it is. I keep those whom I KNOW are there for a reason. I feel like there are quite a few people like that in my life, and for that I am truly blessed. But I know that there are those who don't hold my best interest, those who don't think twice...and for you, goodbye.

I can't control how I feel. I can't control what happens to me. I can't control situations that arise. I can't control the lurid thoughts and doubts that haunt me. I can't control my life.

I can control my reaction though. I control what and who my life contains, and sometimes I misjudge, but often I don't. I can control how I tolerate misgivings, or what I can do to get past. I can control what really, truly matters...and let go of the rest. As someone once said, there's a beauty in just letting go. And it is beautiful.

I've let go of an insecurity this week. Humility. I've told a few people how amazing humility is. Humility shows you how to be human. It shows you that no one is perfect, and that no matter what you do to prevent bad things from happening, shit happens. Like a broken nose. Believe it or not, it made me a better person. I've always believed that God is in control of my life, and those obstacles He places in front of me are for a reason. Not my reason, but for one reason. To be a better person. And it happened. I still have many, many flaws...I'll admit that to anyone. But in this one moment, I learned something that I'll quite possibly never forget, nor would I ever want to forget. I'm imperfect. Beautifully imperfect.

Embrace imperfection. Keep humility in your heart. Allow yourself to be at the bottom, to learn and grow once again regardless of how old you are, or how much you have already been through. I'm not trying to be preachy, and I'm not trying to make a point. I'm reflecting on what has been a traumatic and stressful period of my life...and though it has caused me sleepless nights and endless uncertainty--I'm blessed that it has given me the opportunity to witness it, the courage to get through it, and the dignity to move on.

Life is so incredibly unyielding, and persistent, but so beautiful. Life isn't controlled and I can't control my life.

And for that, I'm thankful.

Medication.

I really need medication. Before you jump to conclusions or suggestions, it's sleeping medication that I need. That I deserve. I feel like I haven't slept in days. Like no matter how much I try, something's in the way. Something's stopping me from having dreams. There's plenty of factors to blame. My roommate keeps odd hours. He's awake at the worst time. That 3 am til 5 am bracket. I wake up to hear whatever he Tivo'd. To hell with Tivo. It allows him to record everyhing and anything he wants so that he can watch it at a time when any normal person should be sleeping. I haven't been normal for months. I wake up to hear the foggy details of Lost, or I'm kept up to speed with every movement of the Amazing Race people. Someone give me a medal for biting my tongue. I deserve one, too. It's okay, I'll just not sleep through this hour. This night. This week.

Seriously, go to bed. I have to be awake during the daylight hours and for what seems like my entire existance here, I've been awake during the night ones, too.

Buster is also cramping my style. I really need to remedy our situation. He sleeps right next to me, no matter where I move to in the bed. Literally, right by my side, always touching my leg, my back, my arm, my hand, my finger, all in some facet. People move during normal sleep. If I move, well then that requires me to move Buster.

And that whole scene is 100% my fault. He's been sleeping with me since he was a pup, since the very first day I've had him. Every night. Every single night. It's a great feeling to have his cute little face to wake up to, but seriously, it's ruining something, too. It's my fault, though. I still love him like no other.

SO sleep deprived. I sleep in silence. No TV in the room. No music. No fan. No nothing.

The windows of my bedroom keep the cold air out, but let every noise outside IN. I swear, it's as if I can hear the worms crawling through the mud down below. And this is from three stories up. I never noticed how many firetrucks, police cars, and ambulances are strolling down this God forsaken street at every God forsaken hour. Seriously people, could you drive yourself to the hospital or buy a fire extinguisher? I really need my sleep. Let's not jump to extremes right away.

I remember when I looked at the clock. Last night it was 3:28, 3:47, 4:52, 5:01, and 6:51. And oh, 6:51 was the absolute worst being that my alarm clock goes off at 6:53. Two minutes, are you fucking kidding me? I shut my eyes so tight thinking that two minutes could give me everything I need and that I'll be able to get up better if I just sleep for these two long minutes.

The alarm goes off, and all I can think about is how much I just want for the world to freeze for a minute. For the traffic to stop. For the loitering drunks to pass out. For the television in the living room to not work. For my roommate to go to bed. For Buster to sleep on the floor. For my eyes not to open. And for my brain not to stir.

Something has to change.

Sometimes I seriously think that I could spend ALL DAY on YouTube. It's so brilliant, $1.65 billion seems a little cheap to be the selling price. Way undersold.

I seriously just watched 3 hours worth of videos about funny cats.

Oh, life.

Okay, so now that all of that drama is over, I can begin writing normally again. Well, semi-normal. For some odd reason I can't remember what it was that I wanted to blog about, but trust me, you would have loved it. It had something to do with Disney movies...no wait, it didn't have anything to do with Disney movies, but it was similar in some way...

Hmm. I'm sitting here thinking, hold on. This blog is kind of in real-time, as they say. Umm.

Oh yes.

Romantic Comedies, let's discuss.

So, for any of you whom actually know me, you'll know that I'm a die-hard romantic comedy fan. Perhaps borderline romance/chick flick fan. I'm going to list some of my favorite ones, in no particular order because I'm not that obsessed to the point that I created an order:

1. Under the Tuscan Sun
2. Never Been Kissed
3. The Notebook
4. 50 First Dates
5. Can't Buy Me Love
6. Love, Actually
7. You've Got Mail
8. Short Circuit (I'll explain this later)
9. The Wedding Singer
10. My Best Friend's Wedding

Okay, so, I'll be honest and let you all know that I haven't seen all of these movies in their "entirety" due to the fact that I fall asleep during movies VERY easily, regardless of their entertainment value. And let's not forget the fact that I have the reputation for imaginatively placing myself in the role of the heartbroken, victimized, and looking-for-love single person in every movie, which is usually the lead character. So, with that, it's easy to say that I sometimes get distracted during the movie.

Anyway, Under the Tuscan Sun is one of those movies I haven't seen all the way through, but from what I did see, I LOVED it. First of all it takes place in Europe, so automatically the romance-meter already goes up quite a few degrees. Secondly, all of the people in the movie are fantastic looking, so it's really hard to not get caught up in this flick. I have the feeling I'll be at Blockbuster very soon searching for a "previously viewed" copy to buy. Hmm, desperate? Maybe.

Never Been Kissed...not the story of my life, thank God, but still something I can relate to. I don't know that I've kissed the love of my life yet either, but have definitely kissed a person here and there.

The Notebook. This movie will basically just make you feel that no matter what relationship you've been in, none of them could remotely compare to the relationship that Noah and Allie had. The emotion between the two of them was so THICK, it was great and bad all at the same time. Great to see that kind of passion, but bad because I haven't experienced anything even remotely like it. Some day...

50 First Dates gets my vote for one reason: dedication. Adam Sandler's character was so dedicated to Drew, that regardless of some very discouraging circumstances, he pursued what he was after until the end. That's very noteworthy in my book. Unless I'm uninterested, then you need to know when to call it a day.

I don't really know how Can't Buy Me Love got put on this list. What was I thinking? I can't even really think of anything to say about this movie. I really should have replaced this slot with Must Love Dogs.

Now, for Love, Actually. This movie is fantastic. It's funny and it also makes you want to step out your front door and find someone British to love and have marry you. If you're not up for loving Brits, don't watch the movie. Plus it ties in a Christmas feeling, which is one of my most favorite feelings, so it really does a number on the insides.

You've Got Mail is great, but primarily because it takes place in a book store and book stores are HOT.

Now Short Circuit will make you fall in love with a robot. That's why it's so great. I never really feel sympathetic and emotional towards robots, but this time is different. And I guess I also sympathize because I've met a few robots in my day.

I can't tell you how excited I get when The Wedding Singer is played on TBS or some other shitty cable station. And let's keep in mind the fact that I own the DVD, but for some reason the TV version is so much more appealing. And I also wouldn't mind if a string quartette played "Don't Stop Believing" at my wedding. Assuming I get married. Even if I don't get married I'm still going to fulfill my dream of having 10 children.

And last but not least is My Best Friend's Wedding, which I can't really decide if I like this movie for its content, or just for the opener where Ani DiFranco sings Wishing and Hoping and a bride and her bridesmaids dance around to it. I really relate to that song though because it's really all that I ever do these days.

I am such a victim.

...and then I hear a whisper, that this too shall pass.

I learned something.

I learned that I lose and/or have lost everything; my keys, my phone, my sanity, my faith in people. Never ask me to hold onto something. Never assume that I have everything when I leave the door, or a cab for that matter. Me? Leave the keys that unlock the most important possessions I own in a cab? Never...oh, whoops, I did actually. But more importantly, after the first loss I continued to lose. And lose and lose and lose. Possessions, feelings, hope, trust, respect...

I learned that no one will take care of you, except yourself. No one cares that you're stranded, that you're ridden with worry and helplessness, that you're alone, that you need somebody...ANYBODY. No one cares about that. No one cared at all.

I learned that the lake made me feel small. Smaller than I had already felt. I felt so small that it made me wonder...if I had drowned myself in that big, beautiful lake, would anyone notice? Well, yeah...when I didn't show up for work and when my rent didn't get paid - somebody would have eventually caught on. I think.

I learned that people aren't always what they seem, no matter how much you hope and dream. It's funny to think that I talked about "rock bottom" only to realize this was my rock bottom. And those rocks were sharp...really sharp. The scars reveal everything. Thanks for calling. Thanks for caring. Thanks for giving a damn what happened to me that miserable day and the day after. That was real sweet of you. You shouldn't have! Oh wait, you didn't.

I learned that it's possible to walk for miles and miles and never realize that your feet are blistered and that your leg muscles quit 3 miles back. I walked so fast, and so much, I'm just now realizing what I did and how amazing it is that I did it. No one will understand this concept because I experienced this on my own, alone. The seagulls will understand though. I hope they're reading.

I learned that your heart is often wrong. Follow your heart, the saying always goes. Really? No, don't do that. Your heart doesn't have its own brain. Follow the brain in your head. I didn't follow my brain this ENTIRE weekend. I followed my heart--it too let me down and now feels slightly heavy.

I learned how special home really is. Home is where I should of been. Would I change anything about leaving home and going there to go through all that? YES. Perhaps, all of it. All regret. I'm man enough to admit that I regret my decisions. I didn't grow from this. I made a mistake. Actually, I made mistakes. But I learned from them.

I learned a lot this weekend. And I'm happy that I'm home, safe and sound. No one knows that though, but me. No one asked.

I'm down, I'm battered, I'm sore, I'm tired, and I'm broke...but I'm home. Thanks for nothing.

Oh, hey September.

Forgot you were here. I haven't even really been that busy, not sure what my problem has been lately. Blogging is similar to working out--the benefits are AMAZING but who really has the time? Well, I do, it's just a matter of using that time for creative and positive purposes.

Let me search my databanks and try to recall some issues that have been bothering me lately. Oh okay, Iowa City. For some reason, I've been living here for 3 years now and I don't really understand why. Actually, I do understand--it's my job, first and foremost. It's too good of an opportunity and too much money to discredit the location. Sometimes I feel like I never left college though, and that's the main problem. This was experienced when I went tailgating this weekend. Seeing people get obnoxiously drunk at 7 in the morning? Seriously? For instance, this one guy actually projectile vomited right in front of me at some random house we went to. Luckily I was out of the line of fire. It was overwhelming. I went to a private college and never really dealt with the "lifestyle" of a public university. I went my entire college career without even seeing a college football game, and I was okay with that. I worked every weekend at the YMCA teaching swim lessons, all so that I could make my car payments. I like to think that I bettered myself. So, when living in a college town, it's like you're in college again, except in a more intense setting. I'm looking for a different lifestyle than that. I should have known this ahead of time. I mean, I moved to Iowa City when I graduated college in 2004 due to the fact that I found a job where I could use my newly acquired degree.

Oh wait, no I didn't, I worked at Abercrombie & Fitch. What a waste of life. Actually, I take that back, it wasn't a complete waste. I did meet some amazing individuals, but I also met some complete assholes, too. That's OK though because, let me check, oh yeah...they still work there, and I'm sure there are many more A&F years to come for them. How do you stay in retail? Anytime someone would ask me where I worked at, I had to embarrassingly say "A&F" and then immediately change the topic. I wonder what it's like to do that year after year after year. I don't care what your title is, you're still a loser with a punk job.

Enough of that. Here's an endorsement for Febreze: Buy their outlet products. I swear to God, you buy the mechanism, plug it into the wall, and your place will smell like fresh laundry every day. It's AMAZING. It's not as amazing as waffle-cone fragranced garages, but it's pretty close to it.

Anti-climatic, right? I know.

More to come later when I have time to tell a story about yogurt and/or dogs with three legs.

I always have this dream where I write a memoir about my life and it becomes a NY Times bestseller, selling millions of copies, in fact, so many copies that it sets a record for selling the most amount of copies ever. And then Oprah wants it in her book club, and I'm on Larry King Live talking about the inspiration behind the book, and Lindsay Lohan is being hounded by the paparazzi, taking picture after picture of her with my book in hand--subject line being "Stars are just like us! They read Ryan Sumner's memoirs!" But you should also probably know that when I'm writing my memoirs, my hair is always really messy and I have thick glasses on.

And then I think about the financial gains from writing these memoirs, and I believe the fortune to be somewhere in the billion range, but the exact number puzzles me. For some reason, 3 billion dollars just doesn't seem to be enough these days.

Oh, 2006.

So, does anyone else HATE Jeffrey on Project Runway as much as I do? I really hope so. The guy has no talent and no chin. That nasty tattoo around his neck ISN'T cool nor is his haircut which looks like Corkey from Life Goes On took a Flowbee to it after finding out his sister's boyfriend had AIDS and she was still kissing him on the railroad tracks, regardless.

Yeah, that's how much I dislike him. And he WON last night for making some ugly rockstar outfit, where the pants looked like some pajama bottoms I used to wear 20 years ago. And trust me people, you do NOT want to know what I was wearing 20 years ago.

Back then, I was really into Pound Puppies.

I think it's safe to say that we all know I have issues with aliens. Their existence in this world is undeniable (according to me) and it's only a matter of time before I come face to face with one.

Last Sunday, I inadvertently watched this show on the National Geographic channel, entitled...

(Hold on, I have to Google the name of the show because I can't remember what it was)

Aha..entitled "The UFO Phenomenon--Seeing is Believing."

And, OH!, actually before I start talking about that, on Saturday morning I watched this show called "UFOs over Illinois" and it talked about how on this one night in southern Illinois, this two-story UFO was flying around and was witnessed by over 7 people in 4 different towns (5 of the 7 witnesses were police officers). It was crazy because they all saw the same thing and one of the witnesses worked for the Air Force Base that is located in the area, and he confirmed that it was a non-registered, non-military sighting because the base was shut down on that night, so it wasn't like a top-secret plane that the Air Force was testing out. Plus why would the AF build a two-story "secret" plane? Russia would totally see that coming.

Silly rabbit.

Anyway, so back to the other alien show I was watching...so Peter Jennings was hosting it which is weird because he's dead, and I kept thinking to myself, I wonder what he looks like now? But I digress, so Peter is talking about how all of these UFOs have been seen by like 33,000 government and commercial pilots, and had all of these experts on talking about aliens and the reasons why they exist and he had this one scientist/professor who was the lead figure in disproving aliens and UFOs, but after all his studies he became a believer and lead this coalition in producing attention and money into creating programs that would help to scientifically prove that aliens exist. The show had SO many scientists, witnesses, and just ordinary citizens who all KNOW they saw something, but no one believes them. Why not believe them? Sure, they had on some freaks who were talking about how they were abducted by aliens in their sleep, and especially this one crazy lady who said that she was abducted from her home, was placed on a bed in the UFO and was introduced to this female alien who was holding onto an alien baby. The Earth lady goes, "Whose baby is that, is that my baby!?" and the alien lady goes "No, this isn't your baby, this is OUR baby."

Okay, yeah right lady. As if aliens know how to speak English and are capable of using a dramatic emphasis when saying OUR baby. dundunDUNNNN!

Now, what I didn't like about the show was that they would say, "Scientists disprove alien visitation on Earth for this, this, and this reason...but then they would follow up with a HOWEVER...and shoot off some random fact and show some scary UFO video footage.

Ugh, in all I was on a rollercoaster ride of beliefs and disbeliefs. What I did learn though was that aliens are here and they are queer, so get over it.

is equal to


So, after talking about this subject with a few people, I've decided that it would actually be best to put this opinion onto a textual platform. Here goes:

Now, I wouldn't consider myself a huge fan of fast food. Sure it typically tastes good and is relatively cheap, but it's not the best thing in the world to be eating. The places that I sometimes go for a fast, cheap meal would be Wendy's, Burger King, Taco Bell, and perhaps a few others. However, within the 4 or 5 times a year that I go to these places, the one restaurant that I consistently have a horrible time at is WENDY'S. The horrible-ness of every encounter is measured on many different levels. My main concern lies within the employee staffing. Without getting called a racist by my friends, I will just say that the majority (and by majority I mean each and every one) of the employees at EVERY Wendy's I have ever been to have always been staffed by unfriendly black people. This is similar to how every bank is staffed with unfriendly white people. The difference is that the mean bank people aren't handling food. I can handle having cocaine sediment on my dollar bills, but I can't handle having cocaine being used as a salt substitute. That sounds bad...unfriendly black people wouldn't waste cocaine like that.

Let me restate...

I can handle having a stripper's vagina juice all over my dollar bills, but I can't handle having a Wendy's employee spit a loogey on my hamburger as a makeshift spicy mayonnaise.


Now I'm not saying that it has ever happened, and if it did it tasted okay...but my point is the fact that I feel like the employees want to KILL me for merely stepping foot within their establishment. I'll walk up to the register and sure enough, here comes some girl with big fingernails and an even bigger attitude, freaking out on me because I wanted a Frosty instead of the drink that comes with my meal. Yeah, I want a Frosty INSTEAD of a drink, not a Frosty and a drink, and don't tell me I can't because I can.

Ohhhhh hell no I didn't.

Then she gives me the silent death treatment while all the others are in the back, staring at me without blinking. Well, this meal officially ended before it even got started. I wasn't hungry anyway.

I am not my hair!

And neither are you. Just be nice to me when I'm ordering a Frosty, okay sweetums?

Shh...I'm totally at work. I'm supposed to be writing a proposal, but I'm writing this instead. CRAZY.

So what's new, you ask? Well, not a lot. OR MORE THAN LIFE.

Went to New York. Had some good times. Moved to a different apartment in IC. Had some bad times.

I lost a pound because of it all, I think. All of the eating I did in NYC is now discredited due to my non-eating in IC because of all the stress and steps. As in stair steps. As in stairs. Lots of them. Over and over again. I love that my life has some sort of balance, though.

I'm joining a gym now that I no longer have access to Ryan Sumner's private home gym...located in his second bedroom, which is also of no more. I hate working out at gyms. Sweaty people...jocks lifting stuff that they know is way too heavy in the first place...people being sweaty. Sick.

Sometimes when I see really fat people at the gym, I think, "Aw, that's a cute idea." But immediately after that the realist in me comes out and I think "Yeah right, give up."

But I digress.

Did you know about the gossip folk, that did the okedoke, and Missy had to smoke'em because she's dope.

I'm dope, too.

So, when a bear is chasing a deer, do you ever think that the bear is super horny and just wants to fuck the deer, but when he catches the deer, he just gets mad-crazy hungry and eats it instead?

Sometimes I think deer are pretty.

Lately I've been having some weird thoughts. Actually, a series of weird thoughts, all of which seem to collectively bounce off of one another.

The first series of thoughts came to me as I'm barreling down I-80, returning from my trip home over the 4th. I was just admiring the sunset when I thought, "Earth probably hates us." To Earth, I bet we're like those little fish that cling onto bigger fish...just riding along, doing god knows what, but still, riding along and taking advantage of the free ride. However, if I was Earth I'd be all like "Get the fuck off me, idiot." And you KNOW that's exactly what Earth's thinking EVERYDAY. Do you think Earth cares if we die? Oh hells no. Earth would be happy. I bet Earth cannot WAIT for George Bush to kick it.

But yet the Earth keeps us. Gravity keeps us stuck here, even though I'm dying to fly. The other night I had a dream that I could fly and it was the coolest dream I've ever had. I was just hanging out, talking to my Grandpa, who's dead, then all of a sudden I'd have to go do something, so I'd just start running and BOOM - take off into flight.

It was so liberating, too. Ever see "The Neverending Story" ?? You know, at the end, when that kid is flying with Valcor, hauling ass over those damn bullies who, for some reason, decide to hide in a dumpster.

Really? A dumpster? You couldn't think quickly enough to hide in something less smelly?

Anyway, I wonder what I looked like while I was dreaming? Last night I woke up screaming "It's like you don't even CARE!"

I wonder what I meant by that?

Maybe I was talking about Earth. If I hear one more thing about global warming and glaciers melting, I'm going to cry. Then I'm going to get mad. And then I'm going to do something. Those actions could be reversed and/or flipped, too.

I'll keep you posted on the order.

Moral of the story - try not to be an annoying little fish. Don't annoy the Earth. And for god's sake don't annoy me.

Okay, so if we're little sucker fish hitching rides on big momma fish, then would that make aliens pirannas? You know aliens just wanna tear into us tasmanian devil style, where all you see is a tornado around you and when the dust settles you're just a skeleton.

Aliens freak my shit.

Eep. Sorry. I've been so neglectful lately. This blog is sooo Shar Jackson's children and I am soo K. Federline.

Speaking of KFed, have you heard his new tracks? Wow, they're pretty good. It's hard to believe he use to be just some random backup dancer. Now look at him. He's so successful. He married Britney Spears post fashion-sense, has like 86290 illegitimate children, oddly owns the same amount of wifebeaters, and has a sweet greasy mustache.

He's so lucky. Ugh...JEALOUS...

Here are some of his lyrics. Enjoy.

Im handin out ass kickins like diplomas
Who the first to get it?
Ya know K Feds wit it
All that shit rappers talk about, I already did it
Im committed - to the game
The fames why I hustle
Lyrical exercise, workin every muscle on the double
Chief and commanda
Hand ya
Ass to ya in a basket wrapped in plastic
Im looney
All these model chicks wanna do me
Tabloids tried to screw me
Magazines try to kill me
But im nasty
Too fuckin slick and sly
So high
I could prolly drop a shit and fly
You gonna need a big army
If you comin for me
K. Federline - I hit like tsunamis

That's powerful, man. It speaks to me. It's like...I feel like I can really relate to him sometimes. I couldn't even tell you how many times I wished I could drop a shit and fly. You ARE a tsunami, KFed. Don't even play it out as a simile. It's a frickin exclamatory understatement.

Watch out, Sri Lanka.

So, ringtones. Let's discuss them. It's come to my attention that some people are still living in the days of when downloading ringtones was cool.

Was it ever cool, or did we just think that?

I assume the latter. I can remember the days when my cellphone was cool. Now it's an annoyance. But anyway, I can remember going to all these websites and downloading free ringtones and I thought THIS IS HEAVEN! I'd have everything under the sun. I'd assign certain songs to certain individuals. My friend Molly was Britney Spears "Toxic" because she loved Britney Spears. I just thought I was so clever.

And then the phone would ring.

AND HOLY HELL WAS I EMBARRASSED. Why do people do that? They willingly and consciously assign annoying ringtones to their phones, and when they ring, they get in defense mode, shut it off immediately, and then deny that their phone was ever ringing. Or they pull one of those lame, "Oh my sister put that on my phone..."

Again, lame.

I guess I'm biased though. I hate cell phones. I hate that everyone in the free world has one. I hate that they are expected. I hate the fact that people can always get ahold of you, or always have contact with you, no matter what your location or mission is. What happened to the days when you'd call someone's house and if they weren't home, you'd leave them a message on their answering machine? Now, they call and call and call your cell phone, leave disgruntled messages about how you never answer their phone calls, and then when you see that person in real life, then they're all, "you never answer your phone" or "I can never get ahold of you" or "are you trying to avoid me?" Does it make me a bad person that I don't answer my phone when I'm grocery shopping, or at a restaurant, or having surgery...Am I required to always be available to talk? I mean, sorry I had to have a liver transplant, GEESH. Call later.

Do you ever get a phone call and you don't want to answer it, then consequently feel bad for "avoiding" that person? Ugh, what a senseless guilt trip. Just because the caller has nothing better to do than call you, all of a sudden I'm obligated to communicate with them, even though I don't want to or I'm doing something else more important?

I mean, get off your damn cell phone, you almost hit my cart at Wal-Mart because you were talking to LaQuisha about what Tonya said to your MAN. I mean, give me a break.

And not a break of a Kit-Kat bar because I don't like them AT ALL.

Long time, no blog.

My apologies. I can't even say that I've been terribly busy...just terribly uninspired. Not a whole lot has been happening in life, just a lot of little, pleasant experiences. I really think that summer has kicked off to a great start. The weather has been amazing. Work has been steady and nice. Socialness has been above par. Wait, I'm horrible with golf...is above par good or bad?

Socialness has been good. Socialness is probably not a word.

My social life has been faring well. Ugh, that's sooo Shakespearean. I blame Claire Danes.

My life is fun. Let's move on--

So, does the peanut butter in a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup count as a means of protein? Also, why are rabbits punching other rabbits in the face? I've noticed a lot of this going on lately. It must be breeding time, and perhaps the male bunnies are fighting over the mama bunnies, and the mama bunnies are fighting over their baby's daddies, and the baby bunnies are fighting because, you know, 'he started it.'

But anyway, I've noticed that A) there are a ton of rabbits running around and B) they are all punching each other in the face. I was unaware of the fact that rabbits fought by means of throwing blows, but they do. To make matters worse, they have a real mean look on their face when they do it. Vicious, even. I thought rabbits were nice? I play with the bunnies at PetLand all the time and I always pick up a bunny or four, but had I known they were liable to jack me in the face I wouldn't even GO IN the store, let alone come within an arm's reach.

But I digress.

So, I was jogging the other day and, I swear, it was as if I was in that Tele-Tubby world where rabbits are everywhere doing whatever they damn well want. Anyway, I was jogging along and I noticed this rabbit that looked like it had two asses--one in the front of its body and one in the back. As I came closer I noticed that it was TWO bunnies that were head-to-head, punching the shit out of each other! For me, it was as if aliens had landed and shot me in the face with a stun gun. I had to stop and analyze the ABSURDITY that was going on in front of me. Anyway, this one rabbit was clearly winning and the loser bunny made this horrible, shrill noise that I could hear over the music blasting from my headphones. Due to my "I'm a lover not a fighter" mentality, the bunny's cry for help forced me to immediately break up the fight, separating each bunny to their respective bush. I mean, seriously, quit fighting.

And then just yesterday I saw three sparrows fighting through a series of nasty aerial assaults. Just brutal. All I could think is, what is wrong with this world?

Uh, okay, my newest obsession in life is Kathy Griffin. It's not really a "new" obsession though, because I've been a longtime fan of her work (minus Suddenly Susan). I just asked a few coworkers if they too enjoyed Kathy, only to hear their response of "uhh, no. She's obnoxious." Really? What does that say about me then? I think she is THEE funniest person ever. Well, not ever. Ellen DeGeneres is funnier, but I already went through an obsession with her a few months ago. Do you like how I make these bold statements and then retract them right away? I do too.

Anyway, I watch Kathy Griffin every night during my getting ready for bed/sleeping process. I'll put her stand-up DVD on and, even though I've seen it 50 times, I still laugh and rewind certain parts. Actually, last night (and I swear this happened) I was sleeping during most of the DVD, but I woke up, heard my favorite joke of the show, roared with laughter, then immediately went back to sleep. How weird is that?

If you're curious and/or are familiar with this specific DVD, my favorite joke is when she's talking about her army celebrity tour of Afghanistan. She's talking about how she went on this helicopter ride with these other D-list celebs, and she goes:

"I swear, the wrestler and his wife get on the helicopter and the wife goes, 'Can this thing do a loop-dee-loop?'"

CUT TO ME DYING OF LAUGHTER. I mean, they're on a helicopter and she's asking about it doing a loop-dee-loop? It's not..possible...anyway. You really might have to watch the video and have this joke be heard in the proper context and accent for it to be enjoyed. I play it over and over in my head and find it to be complete bliss.

Shut up.

My musical interest is so vast these days that it's starting to make me feel a little uncomfortable. I have a 6 disc cd changer in my car, and it seems like I cannot make up my mind on what I want to listen to. I mean, seriously, I know I'm weird, but some of the music I have been enjoying is so disjointed that it makes me feel intensely unsatisfied. Here's some stuff in my cd player now:

1. Random country songs on a cd I made
2. Motown (soul) music
3. Random house/techno music
4. Outkast (which I've been listening to the same Love Below cd for, oh, 3 years now.)
5. Something for Everybody, which has a bunch of random remixed songs spanning from rock to opera.
6. New York City mix...which are a bunch of random songs that remind me of my trip to NYC.

The dilemma here is that I like too many different genres of music. I seriously enjoy opera and classical music. Like, I love it. However, I would never buy a cd with just opera or classical music. I might go home and download a bunch of songs I know, but how much music is still out there that I haven't heard and/or I might LOVE?

That brings me to another thing. I feel like there is all this music out there that I've never heard and that I'm missing out on. I love acoustic music. Anything that is unplugged, a capella, folksy, light...I love that type of music. I don't really like John Mayer, but his acoustic music is awesome. Have you ever heard of Voxtrot or Electric President? They're both really random bands, but I really like both of them a lot. I heard this band in Minneapolis last week called "The Hopefuls" and even though their music wasn't anything THAT special, there are a few songs I really liked and I never would have even heard of this band or their songs if I hadn't been at this free outdoor concert last week in MN.

Weird.

Have you ever heard a song playing somewhere, and you kind of like it so you figure out the melody and then you tell yourself that you'll remember the song to find or download later, but yet you don't? You completely forget the song/band exists and it takes another random interaction for you to remember that you liked it? I feel like I've heard all of these songs that I could possibly really enjoy, but I can't remember a word or melody to save my life.

Also, it seems to me that I can sometimes HATE a song for awhile...if not a long while...but then somehow it comes back into my life as this WONDERFUL piece of art that I can't even fathom to understand how I could originally hate it? Some examples:

1. Unwritten - Natasha Bedingfield
2. Lose Control - Missy Elliot (this song was painfully annoying at first, then I downloaded about 70 remixes a month later)
3. Since You've Been Gone - Kelly Clarkson (which is now practically an anthem of sorts, but at first I thought it was to rock-ish for Kelly.)
4. Anything by Jack Johnson - I now realize why he is so popular. Banana Pancakes? Amazing.
5. Basement Jaxx - I ALWAYS hated their songs until I figured out that their songs are so freakishly creative and stimulating that I later hate myself for not liking them.

I'm so unsatisfied. I need options, alternatives, and/or suggestions for cool songs. I'll load up my computer endlessly with stuff I think I like, I know I like, or I might like later, but the process could be made more easy with your help.

I have to go munch on some grindage.

I'm really glad I haven't treated my dog the same way I've treated this blog lately. Pretty sure Buster would be dead if that was the case.

"Sorry folks -- Park's closed!" -- Summer Vacation (Wally World)

Ha, ha. I love that movie. Anywho, so what's new with me you ask? Uh, nothing.

Sometimes I just feel like this:

Home was fantastic. Rightfully so, since I only went home to celebrate my 24th birthday (family-version) to receive endless amounts of attention from my adoring family. But in reality, this is what happened...

I started to get ready for home as soon as I got off work on Friday. I was very excited. I packed up some clothes, grabbed Buster, and sped home thinking about how thrilled my parents were going to be to see me and spend time with me. You should probably know that I'm the baby of 4 children and that everyone has always thought that I was the nicest, cutest, smartest, and all together Christ-like child of the bunch. It remains true to this day. I always received the most attention and my parents always treated me like royalty above the others. So, I drove home under the impression that my parents were patiently awaiting me, ready to hug and praise me as soon as I walked through the doorway known as "home."

Nope. After driving for 2 hours with a dog in my lap, I arrived home to a deserted, cold, lonely house. No parents to be found anywhere. No hugs. No praise. I looked at the message board near the phone to find:

Ry-

We went to Jimmy's to eat pizza with John and Linda Simmons. We'll be home asap. You're welcome to join us! Scott and the boys said they wanted you to come over, too!

Love you, Mom & Dad

Oh, I see how it is. My Mom begs and begs for me to come home since I hadn't been home since early February, and the minute I get there they ditch me for pizza with their friends. I wanted pizza. Oh, and then they throw a mercy-appointment of meeting up with my brother. Yeah right, like he really called to see if I would come over and pay special visit to him. They more or less volunteered him to offer me company, assuming I'd simply overlook their lack of parenting skills and family ethics.

Herrumph.

I decided that I would hide my car in the garage and act like I never came home so that they would be sad when they got home and punish themselves with years of agony, grief, and self-loathing. Then I realized that the plan only worked in my naive head. Watch out for "head plans" like that. One time when I was little I also thought that hiding in a corn field during a game of hide-and-seek would be a really good plan, only to have NO ONE come look for me and then I got lost trying to find my way out. And to make matters worse, I accidentally stepped on field mouse and it made a really weird noise and it freaked me out.

But I digress, anyway, they eventually made their way home but I pretended to be asleep on the couch. I had to seek my revenge somehow. I tried to act like I was in an absolute dead sleep but it didn't work because they caught me opening my eye a millimeter wide to check out their location status in comparison to my lifeless body. They still woke me up and acted like they were just THRILLED to see me.

Right, Mom, I'm pretty sure I was an accident anyway.

Since my last post was directed at granola bars, I think it's extremely important for this blog to be filled with AS MUCH intensity and excitement as the last one. So, here goes, today's topic is:

Disney movies.

Let's discuss this, shall we?

Okay, so from time to time I have the tendancy to watch Disney movies. Why? They're simple. They usually evoke no laughter, no surprise, no mystery. Why? Because you've seen them a million times. Yet, something still makes me want to watch them. Do I care that I'm admitting to this? God no. Go watch your fucking japanese anime porn, you freak, don't sit there and judge me for watching Disney.

Sorry about that. Anyway. So let's talk about my favorites:

Aladdin - Quite possibly my favorite Disney flick of all time. This is mostly due to the fact that Aladdin and I were seperated at birth:



I know, right?

But I digress...this movie was actually funny at some point in time due to Robin Williams being the voice of Genie. Plus, it's supposed to be set in India, although Agrabah is based off of Baghdad, which is home to the "arabian" aspect of the movie. I love India/Arabia stuff. Plus, the music in this movie hosts some of the best Disney tunes ever created. Yes, there are great songs in other movies, and I'll get to them eventually.

And Abu? Cutest. sidekick. ever. We'll also get to sidekicks later, too. All in all though, Aladdin is my favorite Disney movie. Watch it.

The Little Mermaid - Yeah, really dumb name but still a great Disney film. Again, this movie owes it's songwriters everything because they honestly made this movie. The plot was pretty dumb if you think about it. Selling your soul to the devil (Ursela)...honestly? Just to have legs? Girls are so vain. Bright young women, sick of swimmin' and ready to stand? So, not only is this movie religious, it's political, too. Whatever, the music rocks. Don't you just love the part where she's in her underwater cave with all the junk in it...and she's up against the painting of a candle and she goes, "What's a fire and why does it...what's the word? BURN!

And now, in you're head, you're singing, "WHEN'S IT MY TURN? WOULDN'T I LOVE, LOVE TO EXPLORE THAT SHORE UP ABOOOOVE..." You know you did. Admit it.

And what's up with Flounder? Isn't he essentially the face of Casper the Friendly Ghost except in fish format?
+ = lame.

My third favorite is Lion King. This movie is great for so so many reasons. The concept is pretty humble, but the characters are intense. Mufasa, with his booming voice, is stampeded to death. Scar, Mufasa's brother, has him killed. Nathan Lane does the voice of the rodent, which is priceless. And JTT does the voice of young Simba. What more could you ask for?

Next is Dumbo. Why Dumbo? Have you seen Dumbo!? I never realized how sad, depressing, and weird this movie is until recently. When they seperate Dumbo from his mother -- was that not the single saddest parent-trauma that Disney has inflicted upon young, emotional children? Dumbo's mom was merely protecting her baby from cruel kids, and then Dumbo is so sad when Mom gets put into the crazy-elephant bin. UGH, I'm sad just thinking about these scenes.



Why does Disney kill off the parents in like every movie? Seriously, let's make a list:

1. Bambie
2. Fox and the Hound
3. The Lion King
4. Finding Nemo
5. Tarzan
6. Dumbo (she might as well have died because it was just as traumatic)
7. The Jungle Book
8. Aladdin (There's reference to Aladdin's parents being dead, and where's Jasmine's Mom?)
9. The Little Mermaid (Where's the Mom)
10. Beauty and the Beast (Where's the Mom)

What is with the anti-parent/single parent theme in Disney movies? It's not right.

Long tangent - sorry. Next -

Toy Story is AMAZING...both through song and content. I can barely comment on this movie since it's such an entertaining and thoughtful flick. This is the first Disney movie that I saw in the theatre, and I will never forget how sad I was when the mangled toys didn't end up being bought or found by some kid. But, all I have to say is this:

"Hey, Hannah!"

Pinocchio. Ah, this movie makes me feel nostalgic because I watched it all the time growing up. I especially love the scene where Gimney is trying to sleep and all the clocks are rhythmically ticking. I love the clock that features a mom spanking her son as the alarm feature. Hm, domestic violence + alarm clock = brilliance! Also, the rest of that movie is seriously messed up. Especially when Pinnochio starts smoking cigars, drinking booze, and growing facial hair. It's sooo weird. And they're practically in a brothel. Wow.

Snow White and Cinderella are pretty good, though honestly, I've probably only seen them a time or two. They're too princess-involved for me to take pleasure in it. Also, Beauty and the Beast is good, but it's still pretty girly. Although, I used to know a priest that sounded exactly like Gaston, in both speaking and singing voices. So church was always fun because I always envisioned him singing "Just watch, I'm going to make Belle my wiiiiiiiiife!"

Here are some other good'ins that I haven't seen recently enough to comment on, but I still love:

• 101 Dalmations
• Robin Hood
• Jungle Book
• Peter Pan
• Lady and the Tramp (I jizz everytime the cats start singing "We are Siamese if you please, we are Siamese if you don't please!" ba-bonk bonk bonk)
• Bambi
• Fox and the Hound (I love Todd...and foxes)

Now there are a few movies/people I don't like, but Disney insisted on putting these movies out anyway:

Hunchback of Notre Dame is an okay movie, but the villain in this movie is way too creepy and politcal for me to enjoy. This movie has it moments, but I don't need to subject myself to psychotic priests. There's enough of them running around in real life.

I don't even know what this movie is about, nor will I ever see it because this creature looks like it will bite me and I have a fear of animals biting me. Sorry Lilo....or Stitch, whichever you are.

To wrap up the Disney blog, there are a few movies I haven't seen all the way through yet, and therefore cannot comment on them either. I'm not sure that I will ever see/finish these movies, but I would really like to:

• Pocahontas
• Alice in Wonderland
• Tarzan
• Sleeping Beauty

All in good time.

I've really put a lot of time and effort into this and wow...look at the results. Tell me your favorite Disney movies. Come to my house and we'll discuss them over refridgerated granola bars and Frost gatorade.

So, instead of my typical American Idol rant (Yay Elliott!) I feel it's best to plug another obsession in my life: Quaker Granola Bars: Chewy Dipps - Peanut Butter.

Wow. These granola bars are absolutely amazing and have become an everyday part of my life. In fact, without them, my life seems incomplete. I simply must have one of these granola bars everyday as a part of my breakfast at work. They're reasonably nutritious - coming in at 150 calories per bar. That's not too bad considering the chocolately and peanut butter goodness inside every bar.

To "switch things up" every now and then, I like to refridgerate my granola bars, as the crispness in every bite seems to add to their delight.

Get yours today! Although, do not buy them at the Coralville Super-Walmart as that is where I buy mine and I always seem to be buying the second-to-last box of them, so apparently, others have caught on to this granola bar craze.

Mmm...this was a fascinating and delicious entry.

Jealous!?

So, I feel bad about using my "blog" space to write about American Idol. There are far more important and stimulating things going on in my life to write about, and I sometimes overlook these events due to my mild fascination and obsession with Idol.

But first we really need to talk about American Idol. So, last night's show was really good. For the most part, everyone did fairly well -- some more than others. Chris was whatever...but that's because Chris IS whatever to me. No strong like or dislike there. Paris was pretty good, but kind of boring, and to make matters worse, I didn't know the song she was singing. Taylor = stupid. He's boring, he has horrible hair, and I just feel like he's gimmicky. Now, I'll give props to Ace for once. I actually liked his song and voice last night. He sang the song well and his outfit was pretty nice. However, the hair? Are you kidding me? It was as if he literally just finished his 8 hour shift at Long John Silver's, pulled off his hair net, threw on some clothes, and landed on stage to sing. It was not working for him at all, and I think it actually distracted viewers from his performance. Maybe that's why I liked his performance -- I was too busy trying to figure out his hair to even notice his vocals.

Anyway, I digress.

So Kelly Pickler. Wow. Pitchy. Horrible song, horrible rendition, horrible vocals. Elliot...oh Elliot. I love Elliot. He has such a great voice and is such a nice guy. But the personality did not shine, once again. The song -- mediocre. He didn't even jazz it up with some powerhouse vocals or anything. It was good...but good enough? I'm scared for him. Now, Katherine was pretty amazing last night. I don't know if she was as amazing as what the judges gave her credit for, but she did wrap up the show pretty nicely. Katherine is an extremely pretty girl with a great voice, and that might be enough for her to win. Unless something miraculous happens to Elliot's personality, then he too might win.

I'm so sad right now because I know Elliot is outta' here. Wahhhh.

I'll write about more personal, important stuff later. Unless something major happens on American Idol tonight.

I really, really want an iPod. I just figured my life would be so much easier with one. I made, oh, 5 cd's this weekend, and I thought, that really shiny, black iPod I saw in the store the other day was so pretty...and necessary to life.

My birthday is coming up.

HINT.

I've been busy today with meetings and conferences, so I haven't been able to express my emotional struggle with the release of Mandisa and her fat ass from American Idol.

First of all, I love Mandisa. She's humble, she's spiritual, and she can sing. Wow, can she sing.

Her ass and legs are too big though. Seriously. Way too big.

Anyway, how is it that she was voted off? Why is REDNECK COUNTRY-BUMPKIN COWBOY Bucky still on the show? Well, I have an answer to this. The reason that Bucky is able to stay on the show is the same reason why President Bush has been our President for 6 years now.

AKA: our country is full of REDNECKS. Yep, rednecks. All of the south, most of the midwest, and every state further west excluding California, Oregon, and Seattle (they're full of soft liberals and actors) are chop-full of rednecks. When there's a good ol'fashion votin ceremonee going on...you better believe the rocks will be turned and wooded areas will empty. That's just the society we live in. We have to deal with it. There is simply no room for obese black women in America. Atleast not on TV. Did you know that the same amount of people watched the Country Music Awards, as did the Oscars? It's true.

Now, I realize I come from the hick-ridden state of Illinois and currently reside in the desperately-outdated state of Iowa, however, I consider myself to be a progressive thinker. You want to know who I'm rooting for? Elliot. He's ugly, he's partially-deaf, he's misunderstood, and he can sing. He can sing real pretty. Now before I explain my vote, I'll explain whom is voting for whom, per singer.

Now, the East coast and liberal West coast states I mentioned earlier...those people are voting for Chris Daughtry and Paris Bennett. These two are current, they're stylish, they're mainstream--they're typical radio/MTV-worthy singers...boring. College frat boys are voting for Kelly Pickler because she's a blonde idiot, and she's of course a virgin. Virgins are typically THAT stupid..."What's a ballsy!?" Senior citizens are voting for Taylor due to his limited dance moves and salt-and-pepper hair, which are something they can relate to. Ace's voters consist of 10-14 yr. old girls and gay twinks. Katherine holds onto the 21-32 female business women category. Think Diet Pepsi. And then, of course, we all know who votes for Bucky. Think Mountain Dew.

Now Elliot is different. He's ugly, YES. He has bad teeth, YES. He's deaf in one ear, YES. He sort-of look likes a retarded younger brother of Nick Lache, YES. But wait. The kid is so freakishly humble and polite, you can't HELP but like him. On top of that, he can sing. He has an amazing voice and he has an immense amount of possibility. Clay Gayken was about the ugliest thing you'd ever seen until given a hairstylist and wardrobe team. Now look at him. His sassy new look tricks millions of girls into thinking that he's dreamy and straight. Wow! But honestly, that kid can sing, too, and his voice is what I respect.

So, I see a future for Elliot. I see him continuing down this road known as American Idol, and with all hope, President Bush will hold a Pig Squeelin' contest - distracting the rednecks from voting for Bucky and allowing the rest of us to not use our demographics and personal preferences to find a winner...but to let our ears do the voting and allow the real American Idol to please stand up.

Newsflash:

After a bizarre dream last night, I came across a rather startling conclusion after laying in bed and piecing the dream back together.

I'm not going to fully describe the dream, because hey, I already lay myself out there for public scrutiny by revealing all of the weird, stupid, and unattached thoughts or experiences that I have. Actually, it's kind of like the lyrics to that Breathe (2 am) song:

2 AM and I'm still awake, writing a song
If I get it all down on paper, it's no longer inside of me,
Threatening the life it belongs to
And I feel like I'm naked in front of the crowd
Cause these words are my diary, screaming out loud
And I know that you'll use them,
however you want to

So, to talk about my dream would only lessen it's meaning and internal significance; I'll just talk around it.

So, my startling conclusion -- I'm no longer going to have "enemies." Now, if you know anything about me, you'll know that once you burn a bridge with Ryan Sumner, well that bridge is gone forever. And no amount of money could afford the construction crew to come build another. After my dream, I realized there are quite a few people in my life (directly or indirectly) that I truly do not care for or respect due to these burnt bridges. I also realized that holding these people to whatever deed or misfortune that may have come between us, is a complete waste of time and emotion. It's such an unattractive quality to be bitter and unforgiving. It's also so completely unneccessary that I wish I had realized it earlier.

Now is better than never.

I'm going to "let go" of these typically unabashed, unapologetically disinterested feelings I have in this grouping of people who have done me wrong, or I just eventually came to dislike. None of those feelings will ever produce any worthwhile element in my life, so why hold on? Most of these feelings are SO internal, too. I mean, really, when was the last time I ever lashed out at somebody? I've never started or created external conflict, nor will I ever. I don't talk or even acknowledge existence to these certain people. So why should I allow it to take precedence or take up any valuable space in my life? I really shouldn't...

So, to YOU...you typically disliked and disrespectful individual/s of my lifetime -- I no longer hold anything against you. Nothing. In fact, I really don't care about any wrongdoings or "non-wrongdoings" that may have happened in the past. It's over, and I'm way over it.

Clean slate; day 1.

FREAKED

Oh my God. So I just had the weirdest feeling ever and it stemmed from the weirdest series of thoughts EVER. So, I was reading the news today at work. I have this weird thing, that, if I don't read the news, I'll think that I'm missing out on something really important, and that thought freaks me out so I read the news like 10-20 times a day. Weird, I know.

Anyway, so after reading about Tom DeLay not seeking re-election and Katie Couric going to CBS, I then stumble upon an article about the Earth being warmer 247 million years ago. I thought it sounded mildly interesting since I just read an article 2 hours earlier about how the mountains will never have snow on them again in approximately 15 years due to global warming. So, I start reading about this info and I come across a timeline about the Earth's geological time scale. It basically explains what life was like, temperatures, existing organisms, and all kinds of stuff a real long time ago. Well, what freaked me out was the fact that this timeline goes back 3.8 BILLION YEARS. This freaked me out. I was thinking, "The Earth can't be 3.8 billion years old, that's a freakish amount of time! I mean, the dinosaurs were roaming the Earth a mere 65 million years ago, and that is already unfathomably old. So, add a few more billion years on top of that, and it becomes mind-boggling!"

So, this notion freaks me out hardcore. And what do I do when I get freaked out? I link to Google as quick as possible. So I googled Earth's age and sure enough, the Earth is roughly around 4 billion years old, and that is simply a scientific estimate. Apparently, scientists have found rocks on this Earth that are almost 3.4 billion years old. So, if one is to assume that these rocks were formed during the creation of Earth, that would put a few hundred million years on them before Earth's actual creation.

This freaked me out even more. I mean, think about it - the Earth has been around for 4 billion years...an amount of time that is wildly beyond all imagination and possibility. Earth couldn't support life until 3 billion years later when the first micro-organisms first appeared, allegedly (said in a Star Jones-type fashion). So, what...was Earth similar to our present-day Mars? And if so, in 4 billion years is Mars going to be similar to Earth and have it's own life forms and people!?!

THEN I THOUGHT, okay, if the Earth is THAT old, how old are the other planets? If they're anywhere near the age of Earth, or even older, they would of had to conjure up some type of life form or organisms.

THEN I THOUGHT, OH MY GOD ALIENS ARE REAL.

THEN I THOUGHT, okay, if the Earth is 4 billion years old, how old is the UNIVERSE? The mere thought of this sent me into a rage. OKAY, IF THE UNIVERSE IS REALLY OLD, HOW DID IT BEGIN? Is God 4 billion years old? If so, how is that possible that we personify God as a person? There weren't even people til 4 billion years after God's creation or existence.

THEN I THOUGHT, oh my God, THEN WHAT AM I? Am I a simple product of an endlessly-aging atmosphere that can sustain life?

THEN I THOUGHT, well if the Earth is THAT old, it's bound to DIE.

THEN I THOUGHT, oh my God, the Earth could blow up at any second. That means I will DIE.

THEN I THOUGHT, I would never even know I died. If the world blew up, no one would ever even know because it would happen so quickly and instantaneously that life would be over in the smallest fraction of a moment. It'd be like blinking.

THEN I THOUGHT, what if I blink and THE WORLD IS OVER!?!?

THEN I THOUGHT, dammit, I already said I WOULDN'T EVEN KNOW.

So now, my life is being measured by blinks, never knowing when my last blink will be.

Do you see how freakishly weird these series of thoughts are? And YES, this all occurred to me sequentially in my head. I literally wanted to scream.

THANK YOU MSNBC!

So, is anyone staying in Iowa City over the Easter weekend?

I am. My parents are going out to Colorado for a couple of weeks and won't be back until after Easter. So, since my brother and sister live in Colorado, most of my family will be together in Colorado for Easter except me. I'm not too upset. Easter really only involves going to church, and right now, I'm not up for it. I mean, I'll go if need be, but not on my own recognizance.

So, I'm hoping there's still life in Iowa City over the holiday weekend. Otherwise, Buster and I will have plenty of bonding time, that's for sure. Yay.

I'm nearing the finish line with the Chicago move. I have several jobs lined up that I'm applying for, and hopefully interviewing for in the very near future. I'm looking at apartments as we speak. John F. and I will potentially be rooming together, so I'm looking at some places downtown that we could afford. There's definitely a plethora of availabilites, and it's great to finally have a few options for once.

Movin' on up.

Today and yesterday have been filled with HIGHS and lows. I'll explain:

Okay, yesterday...possibly one of the worst days ever, but it did have one shining moment. So, the bad first - the entire day started off on the wrong foot. I woke up REALLY tired for some reason at 6:48 am. I went to bed relatively early (sometime after 10) thinking that I would wake up ready-to-go like normal. Oh no. Not even close. To make matters worse, it was a nasty, rainy day outside and my room felt colder than normal. So, getting out of bed wasn't a refreshing experience to say the least. Now, Buster hates rain/cold weather. He does not deal with it at all. So, as soon as I started to get out of bed, he jumps off the bed and runs underneath it (he knows that I put him outside, first thing, when I wake up). This frustrates me a bit. I can't fit under my bed, so I literally have to either become Flex Armstrong and extend my arm to ungodly lengths to reach him, or I have to literally move the bed quickly enough to expose his hiding spot and grab him. So, I chose the second option and eventually scooted him out the door. Then, I immediately got in the shower because I'm on a tight time schedule between the time I wake up and the time I go to work (6:48 - 7:46 am). I know exactly where I should be/what I should be doing per MINUTE. At 6:52 a.m. I should be in the shower, but today, I'm a little behind schedule. So, I'm showering to which I have an EXACT routine that I do in the shower every morning (is my exactness sounding like a personal problem? It may very well be...). After my shampoo/conditioner/body wash cycle, it's then time to wash my face. However, instead of using my facewash, I somehow take the shampoo bottle, lather some in my hands and start washing my face with shampoo. Not until the smell and intense burning sensation alerted my senses did I realize the mistake. I know...wow. Anyway, so after that trauma, I get dressed, make myself look pretty, and headed upstairs to make my lunch for work. I looked out the kitchen window and noticed that one of my roommates has parked her car behind mine and didn't leave her keys on the table (as is customary when doing this type of parking so that someone can move it). So, I start to freak out a little because this unknown problem will undoubtedly interfere with my time and activity schedule. So, I grab my cell phone to send her a text message asking her to move her car (I'm super super nice about it because who wants to wake up to a text message saying "wake up and move your car in the cold weather and cold house?"). I wouldn't...

Despite the urgency, I didn't want to knock on her door and wake her up because that just didn't seem appropriate to me at the time. If one of my roommates did that to me, I would probably freak out - A) I don't want people seeing me at 6 am in the morning, groggy, questionably clothed, and awake at a time when I didn't need to be, and B) it really isn't a life-or-death situation so I think this is the most non-confrontational/non-annoying method. Anyway, I forgot that I left Buster outside, so I run downstairs and let him back inside. Since it was raining, he is of course WET AS ALL HELL and muddy. So now, I have to find an old towel, clean and dry him off, and then put some baby powder on him so that he doesn't emit that "wet dog smell" that is ever so disgusting. Great, now I'm even further behind schedule and I noticed that I haven't even seen or heard any action on my roommates behalf. I look out the window and, sure enough, she hasn't moved her car, nor has she even woken up. So, I resend the same text message, open the garage door, and start my car to warm it up, thinking that maybe the ruckus would wake her. It did. So, with what seemed like 12 blankets over her head, Kristen moved her car and went back to bed. Now, by 7:46 am, I should be pulling out of my driveway and headed to work. But where am I? On my hands and knees cleaning Buster. I look up at the clock and notice that it's 7:49. Lovely. In the midst of this revelation, Buster jumps out of my hands and bolts back underneath the bed (he too knows my time schedule and knows that he is going to be put in his kennel since I'm leaving for work momentarily. I FLIPPED OUT. I still had to put on socks, put on shoes, find my jacket, find my wallet, put on my coat, grab my cell phone, lunch, and briefcase and then scurry to work. Thank you Buster for being an ass. So this time I don't even waste time moving the bed, I saw his little body at the end of the bed, so I bend over and reach down and grab him by his tail and fling him into his cage (he wasn't hurt, harmed, or psychologically-damaged by any of these events so, please, do not alert PETA). I quickly do the aforesaid action items and hop in my car to drive to work.

Oh god, this isn't even half the story and I've already written a novel. Anyway...

So, at work I have a semi-busy day ahead of me. I have a few early meetings, a bunch of tasks, and a few personal things I needed to do as well. So, I'm talking to this Jana lady about writing some education documents for the state of Hawaii. It was only supposed to be an hour long meeting, but oh no, it turned out to be 2 and a half hours long - mostly her blabbing (some blabber was even about her personal life to which I needed to know nothing about). Anyway, so we're in this conference room with several other people when the meeting finally gets over with. I'm making small talk with some people as I'm heading towards the door, not really looking at where I was going so that I could talk with the people behind me while exitting. Bad idea. I keep walking, expecting to blindly locate a door/doorhandle when I run smack dab into a glass wall. I smacked the side of my face, nose, head, and body right into a plate glass wall. I can only imagine what this looked like from the opposing side. I am in PAIN. Wow. When people do this on TV it always looks so funny, but in reality, it was horribly, horribly painful. So, as my eyes are watering-up and I'm trying to regain composure - laughing it off and acting like "wow, look at a what silly thing I just did, no big deal" type routine, it's barely possible for me to pretend to shrug it off. It hurt like a son of a bitch. So, yes, pain and humiliation. Yay for events like that. So I walk like 5 miles and 7 floors back to my desk in which, as soon as I sit down, I'm bombarded with 5000 people asking me questions, telling me random info, and then my boss assigns me to like a 100 more projects. So, I'm about ready to flip. It's already been the worst day ever, but oh no, it gets worse. When I decide to take my lunch break, I come to the realization that not only did I not BRING my lunch, I never even MADE a lunch to begin with. How could I forget that? Eating is like the number one priority every day of my life. Oh yes, I was too busy dealing with Buster and my roommate's car. So, this was a problem. I was starving. I decided to walk outside and on over to Subway to get lunch. Oh, don't worry, the weather was ideal walking weather - cold, rainy, and WINDY. So, I brave mother nature and walk to and from Subway. The meal was aight. Anyway, so a few hours elapse and I have ANOTHER TRAUMA.

So, after drinking a huge thing of water with lunch, I have to pee. Now, I hate public bathrooms. Actually, I hate ALL bathrooms except for my own. I have huge emotional/psychological problems with bathrooms and restrooms and everything associated with them. I don't know where they stem from. Anyway, I can somewhat deal with bathrooms in the area of my office because the urinals have automatic flushers, so I don't have to touch anything. Anyway, so I go into the bathroom and there is someone else already in there. BIG PROBLEM. I can't go to the bathroom when anyone else is around. However, the feeling in my bladder was disagreeing with my normal mindset, and I decided to try anyway. So, there is only one urinal in the bathroom and 2 stalls to the side of it. Don't worry, the other person in the bathroom was in the stall DIRECTLY next to the urinal. Ohhhh major problem, but then again, I overlooked it. So, I'm clearing my mind, trying to overlook the current situation at hand and think happy thoughts so that I can pee. All of a sudden I start to hear...noises. I start to smell...smells. I start to notice...tension. OH MY GOD PANIC MODE STARTS NOW. Yet again, my eyes start watering to even greater proportions. My hands start to shake and my jaw clenches tightly. I'm trying to not breathe or hear anything so I withdraw from the urinal, run to the sink in hopes of washing my hands a guiness-record speed, and getting the hell out of there. During my frenzied, erratic panic attack, I look quickly into the mirror and notice MY HAIR. What HAPPENED!? I guess I never took into regard the fact that it was RAINING AND WINDY outside when I went to lunch. My hair was of absolute HORRIFIC proportions. I swear it was standing on end in a faux hawk-gone-terribly-wrong fashion. It was as if I literally went to a London, England hairstylist and said, give me the gayest and most obnoxious haircut known to mankind. It was simply horrifying. So, with irritable bowel syndrome man still in the bathroom, I quickly just flatten my hair as much as possible. But the fun doesn't end there. I give myself another quick glance, only to notice that my eye looks puffy. Real puffy. Black-eye puffy. Oh yes - thanks to my little rendezvous with the glass wall earlier in the morning, I now have a nice shiner. It looked like I had been crying after being punched right in the eye socket. So now I have a nice red/purple bag around my eye...just to complete my magnificent day. The man in the stall started to make rustling noises with his clothes and belt, so I dry my hands and dart out the door, cursing the idea of ever leaving my bed in the first place.

But there is one highlight to the day. Yes. It came from a very unexpected place -- the Coral Ridge movie theatre. After sulking around from my horrendous day, John called me and asked if I was up for viewing a movie we had been desperately waiting to see: She's the Man

Now, some of you may read that and think, "Uh, that's probably the dumbest movie ever." John and I both expected it to be, but we find comedy and delight in such movies, so we, of course, had to see it. Let me just say that, as a whole, the movie was WONDERFUL. To me, it was really, really funny and it was just a great, light-hearted flick that I'd pay to see again. Plus, it has really good music. Soundtrack! Best 2006 movie YET.

Since I'm always the absolute LAST person to come to terms with technology -- if I buy an Ipod, will somebody teach me how to use it?

Better yet, will someone just buy me one and have like a million songs downloaded onto it already.

I'll pay you back with sexual favors.

I'm good for it.

I'm so technological/internet-savvy these days, I can barely stand it.

So, I have a MySpace now. Yes...Ryan, meet world. Whatever, I've been pretty anti-MySpace for awhile due to the fact that A LOT of people use it for sex. I mean look at the profiles - 98% of MySpace has user profile pictures that portray a guy standing in the mirror with his shirt off and is taking a picture of the reflection. Now is this because they're unable to program the self-timer on the camera, or are they just in SHEER AWE of their stomach that they had to snap a pic? I'll never figure that one out.

But seriously, the guys OD a little bit with the shirtless pictures. I especially love it when they take about a hundred shirtless pictures and in each one they're like "this is me being bored" or "I need to tan" or "this is me on Halloween." Honestly, they provide a caption that tries to trick the reader in believing that they posted the picture out of funniness, boredom or even better yet, that they naively overlooked the fact that they are shirtless and act like everything is business as usual - when in reality they're like "HOLY SHIT, WAIT TIL THE WORLD GETS A LOOK AT MY HOT BODY!"

Oh well, my pictures aren't nearly as fun as theirs, so I'm sure those people will hate me and steer clear of my site, and I'm okay with that.

In the meantime, I'm going to be spending my free time at work tweeking my site on MySpace. I mean, if I'm going to subject myself to cyber muscled body shots and teenage girls begging to get raped...I might as well be getting paid for it.

Okay, so I normally resist writing two entries in one day, however, I read another article on MSNBC.com that really pissed me off. It actually wasn't so much the article that made me mad, but rather the subject matter.

So...American Idol. This year it's easily my newest-obsessive show. I was obsessed with it back in the Locke/Aiken days to which it fizzled after that. But now it's back. It's back and better than ever. However, things aren't going the way I predicted...and that spells trouble. The final 12 line-up boasts an amazing assembly of singers. Well, some are amazing, some are interesting, some are just comical. Yet, lets keep in mind that the real point of the show is to showcase the best entertainers and singers with hopes of producing another Kelly Clarkson (which not a single winner or contestant since has even come close to). So, in the final 12 we have Chris, Mandisa, Ace, Kelly, Melissa, Paris, Kevin, Taylor, Bucky, Elliot, Lisa, and Katherine. Here is my ranking from best to absolute worst (excluding the fact that Melissa was booted last night):

1. Mandisa
2. Chris
3. Paris
4. Elliott
5. Lisa
6. Kelly
7. Ace
8. Katherine
9. Melissa
10. Taylor
11. Bucky
12. Kevin

For some strange reason, my bottom two were SAFE last night. Safe...HOW??? This is why I now hate the show: 10-12 year old girls. Kevin Corvais is easily the worst singer of the show. No, actually, he is ABSOLUTELY the worst singer. By far. Yet, he somehow escapes from being kicked off every single time. How, and more importantly, WHY is this happening? One word: fanbase. He is being kept alive because of his young, dumb, geek, Chicken Little personality that little girls are just LOVING. Why the hell would you keep somebody on a talent show when you are reminded of Chicken Little? Did you SEE the movie? You're lucky if you didn't. The duck and the pig were the only funny ones. Actually, I should state it like this: The duck and the pig were the only "funny" ones... because I had to find humor somewhere in the movie to justify spending $7 to see it. And yes...I saw it. Don't remind me.

Anyway, this piss poor singer and entertainer is being kept on the show, and is doing BETTER than the real talent simply because of his stupid little-girl fanbase. It's so frustrating. Keep in mind, these ARE NOT the same girls that made boy bands and girl bands the PHENOMENON that they once were. No, no...it's worse. These are the pre-teen little SISTERS of the boy band fanatics. Even better! I don't think they even watch the show, they just get on their cell phones (I was 18 yrs old before I had a cell phone, mind you) and they TEXT the word "Vote" (because texting is space-age technology when you're young and SO the thing to do) . I bet these are the same girls that play with "Bratz" dolls. Have you seen a Bratz doll? It's literally a Barbie-gone-Prositute-with-overwhelming-eyes-and-eye-makeup.

So, Kevin, enjoy your 15 mins now because I loathe the day when someone sees you 5 years from now and you're older, geekier, and most likely undeniably insanely AWKWARD like every other child star that gets publicity in their younger years.

And then we have that dumb-fuck, hill-billy, greasy-hair BUCKY being safe, too. Yeah...his name is really Bucky. And he has a twin brother. Yes. So, his fans came out from under their rocks and found somebody with a cellular phone via a 1998 model that someone kept in their mobile home kitchen cupboard to use "only for emergencies." (Wait until they see the smaller kinds that you can attach to your belt. Golllllly!) Anyway, since North Carolina is typically free of tornados, I guess this constitutes as an emergency. Luckily, you can't vote until 2 hours after the show, so it gave the folks some time to figure out how to use the damn phone.

Ugh. Why can't everyone be more like me and vote for the actual TALENT. Let's not make this a popularity contest. Use your head, not your weird raging hormones. Even if this was a popularity contest, would you really vote for Kevin and/or Bucky? What does that say about you? Oh who am I talking to... like any 11 yr. old girl cares what I think.

And you know that the local library is the only place in North Carolina for a hill-billy to connect to a dial-up internet connection. And none of them know where the library is...or what a library is. So, they don't care either.

And the only people that go to the library are Chinese.

And college students go there to "study." AKA Facebook.

Why do high schoolers have Facebook? High school kids suck major DICK. They're so...high school.

Can I offend anyone else? Please let me know, and I will.

I'm pissed.

P.S. I can say these things without being referred to as a racist. The Chinese thing? A joke. My roommate is some form of Chinese. I'm from a po-dunk town in Illinois, so I can also make fun of rednecks. I'm pretty sure my Dad takes advantage of cell phone belt clips too, so I win again. I also used to be in both high school and college, so there again, quadruple win. Being PC is way overrated.