It's weird to think of yourself as some tangled, tortured soul that can never catch a break.

No one notices you.
No one needs you.
No one cares about you.

No one loves you.

You're living your life alone, simply existing in this cruel, horrible world that damns you when you do and spits in your face and kicks you in the balls when you don't.

I mean, just stay in bed all day long and dream about someone loving every inch of your mind, your body, and your soul because really, that's as close as you'll ever get to it. A dream. A daydream, a nightdream, a collection of images that garbles up enough reality for you to feel loved even when no one's there. Except you.

Ah, Fall. You can tell Winter is coming because that's when posts like this surface. But I take comfort in knowing that I'm not the only one who feels this way. I know there are plenty of other big babies out there. Blaming it on being "bipolar" because surely it's easier to put a label on a feeling than it is to own up to the fact that you're a big, pathetic loser that feels self-loathing is a form of artistic expression.

So very Sinead O'Connor.

It's not though. I don't know what it is. As they say, it is what it is.

Just FYI, I've already put on the oversized sweatpants and extra ginormous, oversized sweatshirt. I've already gotten out of bed on an uninspiring Saturday, went straight to the fridge, opened it, shut it, opened it again, shut it again, walked back to my bed and flopped back in it knowing full well that my back hurt from lying down so long, the whole time feeling like the world and, more importantly, life was just passing me by. Minute by minute. Second by cruel second. Oh woe.

Get over yourself, Sumner.

Be proud of being you. Be proud of your life and everything/everyone in it. The others are missing out, they're the losers. Be proud of the fact that you don't need (or want) to invite random strangers, random bodies into your life/bed despite the fact that you need attention now more than ever. Thank your Momma for giving you the outstanding moral fiber that shows itself every day and, quite possibly, gets you through every day with your head held high. Stand strong with the notion that negative attention is exactly that--negative and completely unnecessary. Don't compromise. Feel good about letting go of the people in your life who do nothing but drag you down and pounce on your insecurities and gnaw at your weaknesses. They have no room in your cell phone, let alone in your life. To them, best of luck (and burn in Hell).

Remember, you are the filet mignon. They are the skirt steak. No, no, they are the hot dogs. The store brand hot dogs, too, not even the Oscar Mayer brand.

I'm special. I know that for a fact and I deserve nothing but the absolute best from you and from myself, and if it takes time (and time again) for someone, anyone to figure that out, fine, no problem, in the meantime I'll be sitting peacefully in my wonderful, cozy bed this Winter with my Jumbo Crossword Puzzle books and endless Swiss cocoa mix, in oversized sweat-everything, watching the snow fall over the lake, knowing full well that the world is a beautiful place, and that I am a beautiful person, and that life is a beautiful gift.

Word.

Things that are right now with my life:

Donuts. Um, I love them. Every time I go to Jewel and see those delicious cake donuts with chocolate frosting and Halloween sprinkles I experience a very emotional internal struggle.

Beyonce's new single If I Were a Boy, uhhhh, I don't get it. But I like the song.

Donuts. Still love them. Not Krispy Kreme though. Sick.

Fall is here and I couldn't be loving it more: my external element preferences lie in the 55-75 degree range, I love falling leaves, I like clouds, I love coats, sweaters, jeans, jackets, long sleeves, etc., the outside world is just prettier in my opinion.

The theme song to Cheers is playing like a broken record in my mind.

The Hills: Who else is really put-off with Audrina's fake and entirely-too-big boobs? Very disappointing, Audrina. Spencer, still love to hate him but Heidi is somewhat softening this season and isn't so abrasive for whatever reason. Every episode I somehow love Lauren more and more, it's hard not to. Whitney is still my favorite though, and when she got splashed at the pool it was basically amazing. I mean, she spit water out of her mouth. Love it. Lo is a complete bitch but God love it, I respect that in her. This show is so bad but so good. I really can't help myself.

As of late I've been digging Robin Thicke's music even though I don't really know why because all of his lyrics are about getting weirdo-freaky with girls. I just like the sound and tempo of his music. It's light and sexy. Very nice.

I have a constant scratch in my throat. It's totally from the combines, you Midwesterners know what I'm talking about.

I somehow drank too much on Saturday night and in reality I didn't even have that much to drink, but I still feel off and weird. Now Sunday I could barely face the day, even though I did. But still...three days later? I think someone tried to poison or drug me via one of my Limon&Water drinks. That's really the only explanation I can think of. Either way, it worked.

I have Spin class tonight and I'm really going to have to channel some positive thinking/images to get me through the 45 mins of non-stop spinning hell. I hope he plays Womanizer, that always gives me a second wind.

I feel better about life post MySpace abandonment. Much better. I think everyone should get rid of their profile. It's kind of a skeezy site, no?

I'm going to buy a cardigan today. Black, size small.

That's all.

Today I realized that I have a problem. Which one, you ask? There are so many, I know. But today it's this one:

I cannot, for the life of me, make eye contact with strangers. Can't do it. Abort mission immediately.

Why? I know, right. What's so hard about looking at a stranger face-to-face, eye-to-eye? On their behalf, I assume their reasoning is that it's an attempt to connect, an attempt to flirt, an attempt to show possible interest...I get it. Yes.

But, to me it's a threat. I know it's not really a threat or meant to be a threat (hopefully), but my immediate reaction reflects that I'm threatened or uncomfortable...which I sort of am, regardless of my own possible curiosity and/or interest in returning the gaze.

Even if I wanted to look, I couldn't. Oh no, nuh-uh, not happening. Can't.

OR, I could be super shadebally and look back when they're not looking, and then when they catch me looking, I easily pretend that I'm looking to just the left of them or just the right of them, so that it's completely plausible that I was never actually looking at them in the first place. Just, you know, seeing what was going on behind them...

I know I'm insane, just work with me here.

Some people are OVERLY aggressive though with the eye contact. If so, that's called staring. I'm not insinuating people are staring at me specifically but we've all been to bars or some type of social establishment where people will look at you without stopping. We've all been there and done that/had it happen: You might, at first, suspect someone is staring at you, so you glance their direction and YEP. Looking straight at you. OK, so let a few moments pass then casually look back again to see if they stopped. NOPE, still staring, OK, a little awkward. Let's try one more time, NOPE, still staring. The central problem here is that every time you look at them to see if they've stopped looking at you, you make eye contact with the starer which is essentially furthering the starer's objective of continuously staring. You get me?

See that's a problem. But that's not my problem.

Work with me, I'm going somewhere with this, I swear...

I'm single. I don't necessarily want to be. Or maybe I do? Eh. Anyway.

In this day and age, it's perfectly normal and acceptable for people to find each other online: Match.com, Myspace,...Craigslist, whatever your agenda may be, you could easily find somebody, anybody, 24/7, from your home computer. No 3-dimensional people required.

I, myself, am not so much interested in that.

You could also venture down to your local watering hole and creep around, buy drinks, stare...whatever. It has worked for many, many people over the years. Sure.

But, again, eh, doesn't work for me.

I know, it should work for me because its easy and that's just how it works. But, what, with the loud music, thousands of conversations going on at once, constant shuffling to the bar and back, squeezing and maneuvering around people in what looks like an endless buffet line, I have all but given up on meeting someone new and wonderful in a bar. After years of experience, it ain't happening. I can see that. I respect that. And it's probably for the best.

So, where do you find a potential, suitable mate? Well, my theory as of late believes my best bet is in the everyday world that we live in: in the grocery store aisle, on the bus, walking to work, checking-out at a clothing store, on the sidewalk, at the gym (the sauna doesn't count), or anywhere, really....anywhere you're least expecting it, that's where it happens. Or so they say. And so I hope.

And for good reason.

Mostly because the pressure is off...neither you nor the unsuspecting potential person are looking for each other. I mean, you are, wherever you are, in that specific location just because, but not in an attempt to purposely meet somebody. You're just doing your thing, going about your life and whoops, oh, hey you, hi, what's up? (internally or externally spoken.) You get where I'm going? Since you're not in a bar, where we all know why people go to bars (unless you're an alcoholic), there isn't an assumed "come over here and talk to me, after all, that's why we're both here" atmosphere. You can either take the surprise opportunity and act or leave it like it never existed. Drop it like it's hot. Very easy.

Sort of.

Keep reading, folks. I do have a point although it took an incredible amount of time to get to it:

This is where eye contact comes in. So, okay, everyday world, right, so let's say we're on the bus. The 145, specifically. A stranger makes eye contact which normally translates into "Hey, I find you somewhat attractive or interesting looking and I want you to know that." Okay, message received, now it's my turn to return the eye contact as an attempt to say "Ditto."

But that's not what happens when I'm at the wheel. To me their eye contact suggests "Yo, you and me, my place, now." And if I connect and look back my return message translates to "It's on!"

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! I wanted my return message to say "I like your hair" not "do me now!"

Ok, Ok, Ok, I know it doesn't really suggest any of the thought processes above, but like I said, in my head, it so does. Hence, my problem.

So what do I do instead? Oh, I immediately focus my attention somewhere else, anywhere really, like out the window, at a different person who doesn't happen to be looking at me, or, easy enough, I simply look down.

Coward! God, get over it you freak! (internal monologue)

I can't, and I need to work on it. Seriously.

And what happens if you make eye contact with someone and then, on top of that, they smile?

Oh Lord, help me. Help me now.

I know a MILLION people probably disagree with me, but that's never stopped me from speaking my mind before.

I think this video is stupid:



Yes, it's very important to vote. If you have an opinion on ANY political, economical, or human rights agenda, you should definitely research the stance of each nominee (be it for the Presidency of the United States, your hometown Mayor, or any elected official) in order to see where your vote should go. So, so, so important. Voting is perhaps the most direct way to make yourself heard. Right on.

BUT, this video is stupid. I get that its main purpose is to get people registered to vote. Or, actually, to get the youth to vote in case they have never registered before and/or don't realize you have to actually register in order to vote. But the message is two-fold. It's then asking for you to vote--"you" the people who, subsequent to watching this video, actually register and then stupidly cast an uninformed/uninspired vote (that could potentially cancel out my informed/inspired vote) only because a celebrity told you to do so, not because you actually cared about anything that goes on in this world until the very moment Jennifer Aniston eluded to polar bears drowning. Perfect.

This sad type of educational campaign has been done a million times before, I get it. Everything is cooler or at least makes more sense if a celebrity is on board. Does the more you know ring a bell? Yes. Instead of listening to our parents tell us not to do drugs, we watched the egg and frying pan bit once and then thought, oooh drugs are bad!

But, back to my point, what this specific message doesn't say is, hey idiot, before you vote, read a newspaper or look online to research where each politician stands before casting a vote that could potentially put his or her agenda into effect and absolutely change (or reinvent) the way our country works.

What it does say is, hey, if you give a damn about anything, go out and vote. I'm sure you've heard at least one of those topics brought up in conversation before, right? No? It doesn't matter. Vote for whomever you want. It really doesn't matter. Just vote. Voting is cool and fun! Heck, vote for whichever name sounds the best. Go on, do it! Vote! Just please VOTE ALREADY! And then send this to five of your dumb friends so they too know the importance of just voting.

My stance (and I'm no celebrity, but hear me out): the election is not about simply voting. It's not about how many people vote. It's not about pulling the lever, filling in the circle, touching a screen, or poking out a chad. Voting is not a cool thing to do. Voting is a not celebrity-endorsed product. Voting is not going to make your hair shinier or get your picture in the paper.

Voting is a responsibility. You are responsible for making a very important decision.

It's also about WHO you are voting for. It's about who these awesome votes go toward. Voting is about carefully selecting a qualified person to serve as an elected official. It's so extremely important to vote for the right person, not just to vote.

To me, voting is not just an action, but an insanely important responsibility.

This stupid commercial, however, suggests it's insanely important to do an action. Vote! That's all you have to do. It's like chewing gum. No walking required! And to get the point across, the clever producers of this video use reverse psychology on us (tricky!) to get us to want to vote...and I only thought that worked on 2-year olds! Wow, I'm going start using this trick on my parents!

Don't send me money. I mean it! Don't! I don't want any money! Money sucks!

I might as well quit my job!

Too many people have simply "voted" in the past two presidential elections. Too many people thought, oh hey that George Dubya is a good old boy, I'll go down to the local library and vote for him, after all, it's my civic duty to vote, albeit uninformed! And now look at where we are today. Because people just voted, since that's what they just do every four years without rhyme or reason, is why we are where we are in 2008.

And really playing up to how dumb some people are, thanks Sarah Silverman for reminding me that I can register to vote while pooping. Such a time-saver! I hope they send out a public reminder on Election Day to get off the toilet and get to a booth. But please, please wash your hands first.

(Oh, but the herpes line was actually really funny, I must admit.)

Also, come on, am I the only one sick of celebrities acting like heroes? They're not. At all. But, because our nation is OBSESSED with all that is celebrity and its nuances, the media strategically uses them to educate us morons/every day citizens on a regular basis. The whole "You do know you have to register first, don't you? You know that, right?" was really eye-opening.

Um, yes, I do know that. Thanks Leonardo DiCaprio for reminding me, I was well aware.

YES, there are tons of IDIOTS in this world that probably didn't know you have to register to vote, but do you want those same idiots to somehow get registered and then show up at the voting booth to vote for McCain/Palin because Sarah was on the cover of US Weekly and she looked totally rockin!? That's exactly who this video is created for and exemplifies its overall purpose.

WHY?!

Quite frankly, I really preferred if those specific uninformed, unintelligent people didn't vote. Sorry, that's my opinion. In the meantime, can this video be taken down so its no longer hailed as being amazing and informative? Yes, it's sometimes funny. But, if humor is a requirement for you to want to vote or if that's your only vice for forming a political opinion, watch the Daily Show or Colbert if you're so inclined.

And, I'm sorry, many celebrities are insane idiots. Many, many. Yet, here they are telling me (Leo even waits around for me to register, how sweet! Very I won't let you go Jack, I won't let you go!) to vote. But wait, are they registered to vote? I don't know. Should we make a commercial reminding them? You know they already forgot the relevance of what they just said since, most have to make a beeline for the exit in order to get to their TRESemme' commercial next door. That shampoo won't sell itself! Ooh la la... I mean, last time I checked, acting doesn't necessarily require a lot of brain power, does it? It's more or less a talent, no? And I appreciate that talent, greatly. I'm a horrible actor. But is acting academic? Since you're an actor and have millions of dollars more than I do, does that make you smarter than I? Should you Courtney Cox and your new big lips be schooling me? Or, should Eva Longoria be told not to vote in hopes that she gets all riled up and actually votes just to show up Ashton Kutcher and his stupid hat for repeatedly telling her not to? It may just work! I hope she votes for Barack, keep your fingers crossed though because Wysteria Lane is a pretty conservative street.

Ugh, this video just comes across so offensively elitist and eludes that us citizens have no intelligence or common sense whatsoever. That's so very untrue...for most people I know.

Overall, it kind of makes me sick. And sad.

People, vote if you care. Vote for who represents you. Vote for who you think will fix this country. Vote with purpose. Vote with a conscience.

Don't just vote.

...the more you know...

I feel like I'm missing out.

So, the Cubs are doing well...or so I hear/read on a daily if not hourly basis. (Sidenote: I'm not a sports-follower in the least, nor do I pretend to be, so bear with me here.) I do know, however, that the Cubs are very close to being in the Playoffs, right? I think that's accurate. So are the Sox. OK, so far so good...

So, my Lakeview neighborhood is pretty much intermixed with the Wrigleyville neighborhood. Wrigley Field is just two blocks west of where I live. And, I can actually see down into Wrigley Field from my 32nd story condo. It's an impressive sight. So, in some respect, I feel like I'm regionally (aside from living in Chicago) a part of Cub-mania, and that perhaps, just perhaps, I should be a little bit more excited about all of this endless hoopla mania people seem to be experiencing?

To be honest though, I'm not excited about anything Cubs-related in the slightest bit. Like...not the slightest. Really, all the Cubs mean to me is increased traffic, increased litter, and daytime drunken strangers asking me which direction to go on the Redline or they simply just point at me and shout "WOOOOOOOOO, go Cubs" and then continue on their staggered way. I never "woo" back. I either smile and nod or pretend that I can see through them. At any rate, none of these Cubs-related aspects impress me, thrill me, or make me want to endure more. I often ask when is the season over with alreadyyyy? I'm an annoying baby like that, yes.

But, here's the thing, a very small part of me wants to join in the celebration. I mean, I love hot dogs, I love beer, and I love drinking beer while eating hot dogs (not simultaneously, I guess). Uh, perfect, right? That has baseball/Americana/sports appreciation written allllll over it. Plus, I guess I'm mildly humbled by the sheer happiness that people have/emit for the Cubs. With the world the way it is, I'm glad people still find the time to chill out and enjoy themselves. It must be a great feeling to just be doing what you like to do in the company of others who feel the same.

I get that.

So, I'm going to try to be happy for the Cubs. More importantly I'm going to try to understand the Cubs. I'll read the newspaper articles and perhaps I'll even bring them up in conversation to see what I can learn. Though I've never once in my entire life ever said the words, "So, how about those Cubs?"...Ever. But why would I? Like I said, I really have zero idea what's happening with the Cubs other than the fact that they're doing good which, from what I understand, apparently isn't the norm. BUT, a general lack of knowledge or insight has never stopped me from openly talking about other subjects I have absolutely no idea about. I mean, I can talk some serious shizz about stuff I know very little about, if anything, and often get away with it perfectly fine. I do it all the time. No biggie.

Which leads me to this, and I can't believe I'm going to say it, but... Go, Cubs, go. Wait, wait...I can do better. Go, Cubs, go!

Yeah, that's the ticket.

P.S. I've actually been to Wrigley Field (on a stadium tour) and was allowed to go into the locker rooms, announcer booth, the Cubs dugout, and even on the Field itself. I have proof, too. I took some pictures with my iPhone that I'll post later.

Geez Louise before you know it I'll have my very own ESPN blog. All sports all the time. Just wait.

(OK, actually, don't wait for that.)

This post is going to be a running list of ideas because, for some reason, things are stirring in my mind. If I don't release this stuff it drives me crazy and it also makes me have the weirdest.dreams.ever. I don't know how many times I sat up in bed talking last night. At times I would wake up and actually hear myself mutter out the last few words, something to do with diapers, and then I would immediately think, oh cripes, I'm losing it again. Warning. Warning.

So, in hopes that I sleep through the night without endless dreams about snakes being in my bed, here goes:

-There's a song in my head that I can't.get.out: Future Love by Varsity Fanclub. I like the song and all but it simply will not leave me. Baby if you ask me, I will say, I don't even know your name... See what I mean? That part keeps playing over and over again like a broken record.
-I keep going back and forth about the idea of wearing a swimming cap while I swim laps at the gym. Should I do it? Will I look completely ridiculous? Reason is, I want to start swimming laps but my hair is longer and I don't want the chlorine to absolutely kill it, so I need some kind of cap to shelter it. Wait, is that even the purpose of swim caps or is it to make you swim faster? For some reason I thought it also protected your hair? I should probably research this. I mean I have Speedos to wear so that I can swim faster...and before you get all funny about that, these are cool, long Speedos, not the super insane brief Speedos. You know the kind of person that is wearing the super short ones. Yeah, that guy. And often at a certain stretch of beach in north Chicago. That's not me. I'm wearing cool, long ones at my gym swimming pool while swimming laps, thank you. Way different. I'm obviously still insecure about my Speedos, agreed.
-I really want this campaign season to be over with. I can't stand hearing about Obama/McCain and Palin anymore. I really, really can't. Can we have the elections a month early? Please...
-So I watched The Hills last night and I still can't seem to convince anyone that Heidi and Spencer are not together in "real life." I know that it's all just a publicity thing to keep people watching the show, but really, no one could really be with Spencer. Not even Heidi. I mean, doesn't he make your skin crawl every time you see him? Even his rude obnoxiousness, I realize, is completely hammed up since everyone loves to hate Spencer, and he definitely caters to that, but really, personality aside, his on again off again mustache/goatee would make anyone puke. Especially me. Back to my point, I think that they are contractually supposed to appear together, or appear to be together until the show is officially over with, you know, to keep people guessing on what happens the rest of the season. I don't know, the show is completely ridiculous and pointless but I can't stop watching it. It's perhaps the only show I watch on TV anymore besides Project Runway and seasonally AI. I can't watch news television for the obvious reasons (see the bullet above).
-Does anyone else think this season of Project Runway sucks significant butt? I do. Korto and Jerrell are probably the "best" designers on the show but that's not saying much since everyone else is completely worthless and Korto's personality is about as interesting as...anything in the world that is boring, flat, and completely monotone. And did anyone see Jerrell wearing those pants when he was dressed as a "rock star"....um, I was very uncomfortable with, you know.
-I'm growing out my hair so just bear with me for a few months, OK? If you don't like it now, well, shut it, I'm not cutting it short. I've had the same haircut since, birth, with it being short and bedhead-y. I'm over it. Everyone and their mother's brother has that haircut.
-Is purposely being splashed in the face the single most annoying thing on Earth or is there something more annoying that I wasn't aware of? I guess even non-purposeful face splashing is annoying. Even if it's just when someone's fingers are wet and they do that little flick-thing in your face causing microscopic water beads to fly directly into your eyes. That's still really annoying. I hate splashing.

I feel slightly better. I'll update this if a thought strikes me as being too heavy for my head to lug around.

Nostalgia.

Disturbia.

You get the idea.

So, I deleted my MySpace. Actually, rather...annoyingly, I could only delete the interface of my MySpace rather than cancel the account altogether. Turns out, back in 2005 when I first created a MySpace account, I arranged for the account to liaison with my college email, meaning any and all MySpace notifications were automatically directed to my college email. Why I set it up as such, I have no idea. After all, I graduated college in 2004. I didn't get a MySpace til 2005. Time warp to year 2008, I obviously no longer have access to my college email, since, I mean why would I? I'm over college and college is over me. Additionally, after graduating, I didn't take the 5 seconds to reroute future college email to a different, non-college, and all around universally-accessible email address. So, whatever is sent to my college email, I guess, stays there forever. Somewhere out there in the internets my unread college emails, whatever they may be, are compiling endlessly. Cool! I just hope I didn't win a million dollars...or even worse, missed out on a really funny (or informative) forward. Ugh, the possibilities...

Long story short, I can't deactivate my account without access to my college email so that I can open the "Confirm MySpace Account Deactivation" email Tom so nicely sent to me making absolutely certain I REALLY wanted to cancel my precious account.

I do, Tom. I do! But...can't. Oh well.

Despite this setback, I deleted everything off of my original site: pictures, friends, comments, etc. and made everything completely private to my now 0 friends with hopes that, someday, my site will be automatically deleted for general lack of use by the powers that be on MySpace.

The kicker is (and yes, there is a point to all of this), I accidentally clicked my MySpace inbox link and, while the page loaded, thought for a single, solitary second "You know what, I should probably delete every message in my inbox." Quickly, reality set in and it hit me like a bat out of hell that flew into my windshield like a ton of bricks only to later find out that my car insurance doesn't cover windshield replacements: there are some solid gold nuggets in that inbox! You'd be a fool to delete such treasure, matey! Arg!

OK, maybe my inbox isn't that cool, but at the least it can provide hours upon hours of entertainment and horror. I made up my mind. The sweat dripped from forehead as I intensively reviewed the computer screen before me: I had to fully ensure that the cancel button would indeed specifically cancel my original (stupid!) intention of deleting all selected messages.

Phew. Success. Inbox intact.

What a relief. I mean, next to graduating high school, preserving my inbox was hands down the best decision of my life. I mean, I had over 168 pages of messages to peruse. Wow. Bet you wish you could get your hands on some of those, don't you? Mhm. Raspberry jelly.

Ohh man...OH MAN, some were juicy, some were retarded, some were embarrassing, some made me smile, some made me mad, some made me laugh (but not lol, I almost never do that, a haha at the most) some were touching, and some made me squirm. By the end, I endured an endless range of emotion through each click. After looking through all 168 pages of random messages, it dawned on me that I've weirdly encountered a LOT of different people over the years, some I regret ever talking to while others I regret not getting to know better, or perhaps not taking the time to provide a reply. I also read messages from friends (former and current) that instantaneously transported me back to some interesting times, ideas, and situations. I would have completely forgotten most of these memories if it weren't for this overlooked gem of an inbox.

So fun.

In conclusion, any of you random weirdos out there that read this blog and used to check out my MySpace, well, I guess now you'll have to settle for just my blog. Unfortunate, I know...

But oh, you can easily find me on Facebook. Or in real life.

No, no. Make that just Facebook.

You know the Clay-mates are freaking something serious right.about.now.

Gaiken, c'mon. Like it's a surprise.

Was anyone else aware that this existed? Bear baiting? I had never heard of it until PETA emailed me something. Anyway, like I always say (or repeat?), knowledge is power.

Apparently it's occuring in the Middle East, and I'm assuming the government there has bigger fish to fry, but, still, take it upon yourself to do something.

Sidenote: Did anyone else know that 1 cup of Caesar dressing has 136 grams of fat and over 1200 calories? I had a caesar salad for lunch and they went stark-raving crazy on the dressing, so I did some research to see if what I just consumed was potentially problematic and HOLY SHIZZ...I'm in trouble.

I once described flaws as being fantastic. That statement still holds true. Flaws are fantastic. They're what makes us human. They keep us grounded. They document our inabilities and at the same time serve as a platform for improvement.

I have MANY flaws. And I'm not ashamed of a singe one. Embarrassed, perhaps. Ashamed, definitely not. Here's a running list:

-I'm disturbingly indecisive. I can't make up my mind about ANYTHING. It's tiresome, it haunts my sleep at times, and it's all around annoying.
-I'm incredibly lazy. Or perhaps I should say I'm a huge procrastinator. I'll put off getting a haircut for months just because I don't want to call to make an appointment.
-I'm horrible at math. I can't figure out tips on my own...or atleast I refuse to learn how to do it. I heard it wasn't hard. I don't do fractions either. It took hours and hours of tutoring to get me through Algebra I, Algebra II, and I cheated my way through Geometry thanks to my math-savvy friends in high school. How I passed tests though, I'll never figure it out. Luck, I suppose.
-I can't commit to anything: relationships, working out, saving money, laundry...it all seems like such a great idea at first and I'll be on board for awhile, but eventually it gets pushed way back on my priority list, the number one priority being sleeping, of course.
-I have a slight speech impediment. It typically goes unseen but it happens. Just a slight stutter/slur of my speech.
-I'm annoyingly impatient. If something is supposed to happen it better happen now.
-I almost never shave unless I absolutely have to. I hate shaving. I often look like a wild animal/barbarian because of it, but that's a risk I'm willing to take.
-I always take/order more food than necessary. I can't bear the thought of being hungry or not having enough food at any given time/meal.
-I almost always have a piece of gum in my mouth, and when I need to spit it out I'll put it anywhere. Trust me, I will find a spot. Swallowing is not an option.
-I don't do PC anything. People may take it offensively, may take it wrong...I really don't care. If it has to do with humor, observation, or just calling something what it is without sugarcoating or fear of being called out for it...I'm all about it. Life shouldn't be so serious and technical as people make it out to be. Yes, there's a time, place, and crowd for everything, agreed, but it's entirely plausible to comment on the world as it is without a user-friendly interface. We're not robots.
-I push the legal limits of appropriate places to be barefoot on a daily basis. I'd be barefoot all day, every day if it were street legal.
-Sometimes I talk WAY too much. Like I literally do not know when to shut my mouth and breathe. Anyone that has ever been on a date with me can surely attest to this.
-I claim I never snore, but in reality I once caught myself snoring. I don't know how it happened but it was like I was mentally awake but my body was still in sleep mode and I actually heard myself snore a very, very soft, perhaps even cute snore. I'm almost positive I only snore when I'm really tired. Or atleast I tell myself that.
-I make a habit of buying hats that I typically never wear. I probably own around 25 hats but I've actually worn maybe 7 or 8 of them...sporadically, too. Like, throughout years.
-Sometimes when I walk down the street I like to envision paparazzis hounding me.
-Here's a favorite quote of mine, and no, it's not by Emerson, Einstein, or Frost, but rather the movie Legally Blonde. The flaw is self-evident:

Elle: I feel comfortable using legal jargon in everyday life.
[someone whistles at her]
Elle: I object!

-I will defend myself or try to prove a point even if it requires large amounts of lies and fibs.
-I have a MySpace. MySpace is pretty much stupid and unnecessary. But do I have one? Yes. This is mostly a flaw since the only reason I have a MySpace is to let people stalk me, I mean, socially network me as a possible friend/interest. I'm tossing around the idea of deactivating it. Major life decisions, I know.

Anyway, that's enough for now. Ahhh, I feel better. Sharing your flaws doesn't mean people will see you as imperfect or inept, but rather it acknowledges that you really do know your personal shortcomings and are man/woman enough to admit them. Publically. Through this form of reveal, I feel fully confident (and somewhat obliged) to do something about it. With all this out, now is the time to grow as an adult and improve, strengthen, and tackle these flaws, head on, apply directly to the forehead.

Sorry, anyway, back to my point.

Step 1: throw gum in trash can...

Done. Wow, that was easy.

I'm already on my way!

Props to Amtrak. I find it important to recognize (even in a small way) good customer service, mostly because in this day and age it's somewhat of a rarity, especially in the transportation sector.

So, the gist. A couple of weeks ago I booked Amtrak tickets, as I typically do in order to travel to my parents' house that's around 2 hours west of Chicago. I really don't mind taking Amtrak since I don't have to deal with traffic or pay insane gas prices (which is perfect since I'm in full support of reducing dependence on this resource), and it's actually a nice, easy ride. Plus it's cheap--$30 round trip. The only bad thing about it is that I don't exactly live next door to Union Station, where I depart and arrive back to, so hauling luggage and taking public transportation to get there and back isn't exactly a chill-dog event.

Anyway, so, I'm supposed to leave today at 5:55 pm from Chicago. I looked at my confirmation email just to make sure everything was set. Uh, glad I did. I noticed that my email noted a September 18th departure date. Um, today is the 17th. Right?! I checked my desktop calender icon on my computer. Sure enough, the 17th. My computer is right, right? Checked the iphone. Yep, for sure.

OK, soooo, small panic, but no big deal because the Amtrak is almost NEVER full. In all actuality, it's always pretty much not even close to full. That glass is half empty. So I called Amtrak to modify this slight oversight. I'm almost positive that I booked the trip for the 17th because I had planned on that departure date for weeks now.

Surely, I am not to blame.

So I call and go through the automated blah blah blah, and it sends me to a ticketing agent. So I brace myself to remain calm at all times because ticketing agents are skillfully and strategically trained to be matter of fact, you know how they are. Whatever is on their screen is on their screen and they have no time for any excuses. So, Lamisha gets on the phone, and from the second she sighed into the phone before even introducing herself, I knew this was going to get sticky.

Lamisha:*sigh*...thank you for...........calling Amtrak Ticketing Services, this is Lamisha, how may I serve your ticket-...........ting needs..........today...?

This was stated in several non-sugarcoated, flat, decaffeinated, non-interested breaths/sighs.

Me: Hi, um, I just noticed that my ticket was printed wrong...weirdest thing...I had booked it for a departure date on the 17th weeks ago, and now that I'm getting ready to leave, I double checked the confirmation email and, I have no idea why, but it says I'm leaving on the 18th. I need to leave today, can you modify the date for..

Lamisha: Sir what is your reservation number, slowly please.

Me: Blah.....blah....blah blah...blah....blah blah.

Lamisha: *sigh*...sir it says right here you booked your ticket with a departure date on the 18th.

Me: Shoot, OK, well I need to leave today. Can you help me?

Lamisa: Sir, I'll change it, but that requires you to pay today's ticket rate which is $6 more than what you already paid.

Me: Um, hmm, is there any way around that because I was under the impression I put in the 17th? I'm not really modifying my reservation, I'm trying to get it back to the way it was originally planned.

Lamisha: Sir, no, no, sir there is no way around this. This ticket was booked online. You put in the dates. I didn't. I am not responsible for this error, you either pay today's ticket rate or you travel tomorrow.

Me: I understand this was probably on my end, but it was an accident. I just want..

Lamisha: Sir, you have the two options I just said, do you want me to repeat them...?

Me: Um, I want to talk to someone else.

Lamisha: Mhm, of course you do...

I was transferred on impact. She probably Z-snapped me immediately preceding the transfer operation. So, I'm slightly amused at how ridiculous this is, but slightly frustrated that I potentially have to pay more money to change this reservation. Yes it's only $6 and yes, again, it was probably my fault anyway, but still...there's no reason for me to pay today's fare. The same amount of people are going to be on tomorrow's train that are going to be on today's train. I'm not crowding the train or jamming up the system. I'm just changing days. No, no...I'm fixing the scheduling error somebody made. I had always planned to leave today anyway. No biggie, right? I didn't think so...

So I pressed on, apparently being transferred to customer relations.

Markus: Hello, my name is Markus, an agent for Amtrak's Customer Relations Department, how are you doing today?

Me: I'm doing well, thanks, how are you?

Markus: Very well. Do you have an issue I can help you resolve?

Me: Well, I guess so, I need to modify my reservation and Lamisha, the ticketing agent, said I couldn't do that unless I pay today's going rate in addition to what I already paid for the tickets. Somehow, my ticket says I leave tomorrow when I booked it to leave today.

Markus: Alright Sir, what is your reservation number?

Me: Blah blah blah......

Markus: One moment Sir, we'll have your ticket modified so that you safely arrive to your destination today. Ah yes, you are scheduled to leave tomorrow, and you'd like to leave today at the same time, I presume?

Me: Correct!

Markus: Alright Sir, give me one moment and I will reset your itinerary to today. Okay, you're off and running! You leave Chicago today at 5:55 pm from Gate D, anything else I can do for you?

Me: Awesome, thanks Markus! I appreciate it. That's all I needed.

Markus: OK then, thank you for calling, and safe travels!

YEAH, LAMISHA. That's how it should be done. YES, I get it, it was probably my fault in the first place but, at the end of the day, that's how you treat a customer you are providing a service to.

To turn the tables, I too have no patience with rude/stupid people. I don't necessarily believe myself to be rude or stupid, but I'm sure I annoyed Lamisha to no end. I am the person/my situation was exactly the thing that makes her day redundant and irritating, yes, agreed. Fine. But long ago, I also recognized that I have no customer service skills whatsoever and would be HORRIBLE at handling annoying, stupid people all day. I mean, I'm always very nice to customer service people when shit happens...I fully realize that it's an enormously sucky job to deal with often overly enraged morons that want someone to fix their mistakes, got it, but still, in the sphere of all that is customer service there's a way to handle it, and there's a way not to handle it. Lamisha's attitude was that of, I hate my job, I hate customers, and I especially hate you Mr. Sumner. Whereas Markus' attitude was I have bills to pay, I'm going to do my job to the best of my ability, and I'm going to talk to customers like actual people, whether they are or not. Personally, I'm always try my best to be nice to people, everyone, regardless if I want to be. I don't do confrontation, I don't do back talking, and I'm not desensitized to understanding and appreciating those whom are different.

Lamisha, I'm sure you're on the verge of quitting anyway, or maybe you're just trying to get through your work day the only way you know how. I get it. Someone once freaked out at me when I worked at Pacific Sunwear years ago for something that had nothing to do with me, but that's just the name of the game. I'm nice, so why don't you be nice?

Be like Markus.
Cheers to Markus.

I don't really have much to say.
My head has felt rather light.

And so have my shoulders,
that can only be a good thing.

Except when I woke up this morning I had a headache,
or at least I dreamt that I had a headache, and it stayed with me.
Or is it the other way around?
I'm not sure.

I told myself last night that, in the morning, I need to use a small bowl for Apple Cinnamon Cheerios, not an oversized bowl.
When morning came, I used the oversized one.
It's the reason I get out of bed.
That and my job, I guess. But more so the Cheerios.

On the bus this morning, I tried to remember:
Posture is key.
The hunchback look is easy to assume,
however, not easy on the eyes though. Especially from a perspective other than my own.

Some lady yelled at me in the elevator for having a tattoo.
Her rude looks and verbal accusations were cut short when the door closed between us.
I wanted to yell back at her for wearing stretch pants, but no,
I'm the bigger person.

She also had a dumb hairdo. Real frizzy.

Walking outside in the Fall air makes me happy. It makes me think of days past, but at the same time, makes me feel more alive than ever. It has something to do with the color of the sunsets, or the smell in the air, or the crisp temperatures. I'm not sure, but it's good. Real good.

I'm sure this doesn't make sense, it's not intended to, it's just a spree of thoughts sent to the keyboard.

Publish Post, enter. Save.

Cya.

I think pigs are pretty. So, if you put lipstick on one, um even better. Miss Piggy was a total dame.

Segueing, I find the whole Sarah Palin frenzy very interesting. Actually, I find Sarah Palin very interesting. In fact, I down right like her. Does her VP potential sway me enough to vote for John McCain? Absolutely not, but I still like her. She seems like a great person. Could she be an awesome President? I don't know. Similarly, I don't know that Obama can be an awesome President. After all, his presidency is built upon a platform of "hope." Yes, I too hope he's all that everyone makes him out to be. However, like Sarah, I think Obama is a great person and since his campaign is more in line with my ideals than McCain's, I'll give him the benefit of the doubt and my vote. We'll see how it goes, I mean he couldn't possibly make things worse, could he? I hope not.

Obama's supporters are in a very interesting position though and, via what I see and hear from them, I'm very disenchanted. Correct me if I'm wrong, but, didn't both Obama and his dutiful supporters have a "we're only going to do positive campaigning, no room for dirty politics here!" attitude and political ethic? Since Palin has been brought into the ring, it's very much the opposite.

Obama supporters are largely hypocritical, and at times, downright nasty. A Facebook status is seemingly the perfect place for Obama supporters to communicate their political beliefs. I've read things like "Did McCain seriously vet that bitch" or "Sarah Palin is a slutbag whore!" and, my favorite, "Obama is godlike."

Obama is not godlike. He's a politician. Not God. Ooh, also, Obamapaths are also REALLY interested in Palin's teenage daughter who is, gasp, pregnant!

C'mon. You can do better than trying to push "Palin could never be VP with a pregnant teenage daughter!" act. It's absurd and irrelevant. You just wait, before you know it Obama's daughters will be on Maury awaiting a lie detector/DNA test. It's all a matter of time--give it 5 years.

Just F'ing vote for who you want to be President and leave your garbage in the trash. Better yet, recycle it.

Has anyone heard of this marvelous invention called the "radio" ??? For my spanish speaking readers and friends, translated, it's called "la radio."

I'm not sure if it was just invented or what the back story is, but I just recently started listening to it and I'm hooked like a mf'er. I especially (and, perhaps, specifically) enjoy the Chicago station 9 FM 92.7 where their pitch is "We play anything."

Uhhhh, PERFECT. And do they ever.

Google "radio" to learn more about this innovative, new-age idea.

Gimme more.

The highlight of my week was eating alone at a fancy sit-down place (yes, I actually had to say "table for one, please) at an Olive Garden in lovely Brookfield, Wisconsin. I'm traveling for work, therefore had no one to enjoy unending soup, salad, and breadsticks with, forcing me to toss my insecurities aside and dine alone amongst the tables of 2+ crowds.

Small victory, yes, but watch out, world.

I'm getting to be rather unstoppable.

I love Hillary Clinton.

But...

I now support Barack Obama...

Aug. 26th, 2008, Hillary Rodham Clinton:

I am honored to be here tonight. A proud mother. A proud Democrat. A proud American.

And a proud supporter of Barack Obama.

My friends, it is time to take back the country we love.

Whether you voted for me, or voted for Barack, the time is now to unite as a single party with a single purpose. We are on the same team, and none of us can sit on the sidelines.

This is a fight for the future. And it's a fight we must win.

I haven't spent the past 35 years in the trenches advocating for children, campaigning for universal health care, helping parents balance work and family, and fighting for women's rights at home and around the world . . . to see another Republican in the White House squander the promise of our country and the hopes of our people.

And you haven't worked so hard over the last 18 months, or endured the last eight years, to suffer through more failed leadership.

No way. No how. No McCain.

Barack Obama is my candidate. And he must be our President.

Tonight we need to remember what a Presidential election is really about. When the polls have closed, and the ads are finally off the air, it comes down to you -- the American people, your lives, and your children's futures.

For me, it's been a privilege to meet you in your homes, your workplaces, and your communities. Your stories reminded me everyday that America's greatness is bound up in the lives of the American people -- your hard work, your devotion to duty, your love for your children, and your determination to keep going, often in the face of enormous obstacles.

You taught me so much, you made me laugh, and . . . you even made me cry. You allowed me to become part of your lives. And you became part of mine.

I will always remember the single mom who had adopted two kids with autism, didn't have health insurance and discovered she had cancer. But she greeted me with her bald head painted with my name on it and asked me to fight for health care.

I will always remember the young man in a Marine Corps t-shirt who waited months for medical care and said to me: "Take care of my buddies; a lot of them are still over there….and then will you please help take care of me?"

I will always remember the boy who told me his mom worked for the minimum wage and that her employer had cut her hours. He said he just didn't know what his family was going to do.

I will always be grateful to everyone from all fifty states, Puerto Rico and the territories, who joined our campaign on behalf of all those people left out and left behind by the Bush Administrtation.

To my supporters, my champions -- my sisterhood of the traveling pantsuits – from the bottom of my heart: Thank you.

You never gave in. You never gave up. And together we made history.

Along the way, America lost two great Democratic champions who would have been here with us tonight. One of our finest young leaders, Arkansas Democratic Party Chair, Bill Gwatney, who believed with all his heart that America and the South could be and should be Democratic from top to bottom.

And Congresswoman Stephanie Tubbs Jones, a dear friend to many of us, a loving mother and courageous leader who never gave up her quest to make America fairer and smarter, stronger and better. Steadfast in her beliefs, a fighter of uncommon grace, she was an inspiration to me and to us all.

Our heart goes out to Stephanie's son, Mervyn, Jr, and Bill's wife, Rebecca, who traveled to Denver to join us at our convention.

Bill and Stephanie knew that after eight years of George Bush, people are hurting at home, and our standing has eroded around the world. We have a lot of work ahead.
Jobs lost, houses gone, falling wages, rising prices. The Supreme Court in a right-wing headlock and our government in partisan gridlock. The biggest deficit in our nation's history. Money borrowed from the Chinese to buy oil from the Saudis.
Putin and Georgia, Iraq and Iran.

I ran for President to renew the promise of America. To rebuild the middle class and sustain the American Dream, to provide the opportunity to work hard and have that work rewarded, to save for college, a home and retirement, to afford the gas and groceries and still have a little left over each month.

To promote a clean energy economy that will create millions of green collar jobs.

To create a health care system that is universal, high quality, and affordable so that parents no longer have to choose between care for themselves or their children or be stuck in dead end jobs simply to keep their insurance.

To create a world class education system and make college affordable again.

To fight for an America defined by deep and meaningful equality - from civil rights to labor rights, from women's rights to gay rights, from ending discrimination to promoting unionization to providing help for the most important job there is: caring for our families. To help every child live up to his or her God-given potential.

To make America once again a nation of immigrants and a nation of laws.

To bring fiscal sanity back to Washington and make our government an instrument of the public good, not of private plunder.

To restore America's standing in the world, to end the war in Iraq, bring our troops home and honor their service by caring for our veterans.

And to join with our allies to confront our shared challenges, from poverty and genocide to terrorism and global warming.

Most of all, I ran to stand up for all those who have been invisible to their government for eight long years.

Those are the reasons I ran for President. Those are the reasons I support Barack Obama. And those are the reasons you should too.

I want you to ask yourselves: Were you in this campaign just for me? Or were you in it for that young Marine and others like him? Were you in it for that mom struggling with cancer while raising her kids? Were you in it for that boy and his mom surviving on the minimum wage? Were you in it for all the people in this country who feel invisible?

We need leaders once again who can tap into that special blend of American confidence and optimism that has enabled generations before us to meet our toughest challenges. Leaders who can help us show ourselves and the world that with our ingenuity, creativity, and innovative spirit, there are no limits to what is possible in America.

This won't be easy. Progress never is. But it will be impossible if we don't fight to put a Democrat in the White House.

We need to elect Barack Obama because we need a President who understands that America can't compete in a global economy by padding the pockets of energy speculators, while ignoring the workers whose jobs have been shipped overseas. We need a President who understands that we can't solve the problems of global warming by giving windfall profits to the oil companies while ignoring opportunities to invest in new technologies that will build a green economy.

We need a President who understands that the genius of America has always depended on the strength and vitality of the middle class.

Barack Obama began his career fighting for workers displaced by the global economy. He built his campaign on a fundamental belief that change in this country must start from the ground up, not the top down. He knows government must be about "We the people" not "We the favored few."

And when Barack Obama is in the White House, he'll revitalize our economy, defend the working people of America, and meet the global challenges of our time. Democrats know how to do this. As I recall, President Clinton and the Democrats did it before.

And President Obama and the Democrats will do it again.

He'll transform our energy agenda by creating millions of green jobs and building a new, clean energy future. He'll make sure that middle class families get the tax relief they deserve. And I can't wait to watch Barack Obama sign a health care plan into law that covers every single American.

Barack Obama will end the war in Iraq responsibly and bring our troops home – a first step to repairing our alliances around the world.

And he will have with him a terrific partner in Michelle Obama. Anyone who saw Michelle's speech last night knows she will be a great First Lady for America.
Americans are also fortunate that Joe Biden will be at Barack Obama's side. He is a strong leader and a good man. He understands both the economic stresses here at home and the strategic challenges abroad. He is pragmatic, tough, and wise. And, of course, Joe will be supported by his wonderful wife, Jill.

They will be a great team for our country.

Now, John McCain is my colleague and my friend. He has served our country with honor and courage.

But we don't need four more years . . . of the last eight years.

More economic stagnation …and less affordable health care. More high gas prices …and less alternative energy. More jobs getting shipped overseas …and fewer jobs created here. More skyrocketing debt ...home foreclosures …and mounting bills that are crushing our middle class families. More war . . . less diplomacy.

More of a government where the privileged come first …and everyone else comes last. John McCain says the economy is fundamentally sound. John McCain doesn't think that 47 million people without health insurance is a crisis. John McCain wants to privatize Social Security. And in 2008, he still thinks it's okay when women don't earn equal pay for equal work.

With an agenda like that, it makes sense that George Bush and John McCain will be together next week in the Twin Cities. Because these days they're awfully hard to tell apart.

America is still around after 232 years because we have risen to the challenge of every new time, changing to be faithful to our values of equal opportunity for all and the common good.

And I know what that can mean for every man, woman, and child in America. I'm a United States Senator because in 1848 a group of courageous women and a few brave men gathered in Seneca Falls, New York, many traveling for days and nights, to participate in the first convention on women's rights in our history.

And so dawned a struggle for the right to vote that would last 72 years, handed down by mother to daughter to granddaughter – and a few sons and grandsons along the way.

These women and men looked into their daughters' eyes, imagined a fairer and freer world, and found the strength to fight. To rally and picket. To endure ridicule and harassment. To brave violence and jail.

And after so many decades – 88 years ago on this very day – the 19th amendment guaranteeing women the right to vote would be forever enshrined in our Constitution.
My mother was born before women could vote. But in this election my daughter got to vote for her mother for President.

This is the story of America. Of women and men who defy the odds and never give up.
How do we give this country back to them?

By following the example of a brave New Yorker , a woman who risked her life to shepherd slaves along the Underground Railroad. And on that path to freedom, Harriett Tubman had one piece of advice.

If you hear the dogs, keep going.
If you see the torches in the woods, keep going.
If they're shouting after you, keep going.
Don't ever stop. Keep going.
If you want a taste of freedom, keep going.

Even in the darkest of moments, ordinary Americans have found the faith to keep going.

I've seen it in you. I've seen it in our teachers and firefighters, nurses and police officers, small business owners and union workers, the men and women of our military – you always keep going.

We are Americans. We're not big on quitting.

But remember, before we can keep going, we have to get going by electing Barack Obama president.

We don't have a moment to lose or a vote to spare. Nothing less than the fate of our nation and the future of our children hang in the balance. I want you to think about your children and grandchildren come election day. And think about the choices your parents and grandparents made that had such a big impact on your life and on the life of our nation. We've got to ensure that the choice we make in this election honors the sacrifices of all who came before us, and will fill the lives of our children with possibility and hope. That is our duty, to build that bright future, and to teach our children that in America there is no chasm too deep, no barrier too great – and no ceiling too high – for all who work hard, never back down, always keep going, have faith in God, in our country, and in each other.

Thank you so much.

God bless America and Godspeed to you all.

Lately, precious moments of my life have been consumed by the fear and resentment of grasshoppers jumping toward my face.

I walked a lot this weekend through the scenic, country roadsides of west central Illinois and, for some reason, large numbers of grasshoppers seemed to specifically collect along the ditches of the newly-oiled roads.

It's easy for my mind to wander--I often day dream while walking. After all, I'm completely surrounded by endless miles of corn fields, tall green stalks guiding every footstep. My Ipod plays the songs I most recently listened to, although I wonder how some of those songs slipped in. I really can't recall the last time I intentionally listened to Clay Aiken's version of Silent Night.

Oh well.

But this peacefulness is instantly vaporized by unidentified flying creatures declaring war on my personal safety bubble. First off, since when do grasshoppers have wings? I'm embarrassed to admit, being born and raised a country boy, that I never quite remembered grasshoppers having the distinct ability to fly? While I know for a fact that they are able to jump very high, and perhaps glide on breeze if lucky, but I'm almost certain that I never saw a wingspan (an impressive wingspan, at that) on what I now refer to as those sick nasty grasschoppers. Times change, I guess.

So, I'll be walking along the road, minding my own business, not causing a bit of trouble or intimidation toward any living (lurking) creature, when all of a sudden this "thing" jumps out right in front of me and nearly hits me in the face. Like an inch from my lips. Gross, right? My heart stops and I spasm a little bit, thinking that it flew in my mouth or was still on me somewhere. After rigorously brushing my body from head to toe and collecting my wits about me, I realized what I freak I was because A) grow up and B) I'm on a road in the middle of a corn field in rural Illinois and, from now on, I need to be more aware of my surroundings, as well as the potential for enormous bugs (or wolves) potentially touching me (stalking me).

OK. It's summer. Grasshoppers are out. Note to self, Ryan.

Now, when I was a kid, I can specifically recall being able to somehow actually catch a grasshopper. In some unnatural, completely alter-ego former state of being, I had the rare superhero power of allowing a grasshopper's spiny, scratchy body and long nasty legs to actually touch my skin and hang out in my cupped hands.

How that's humanly possible, I have no idea, because nowadays the thought makes me twitch and gag, slightly.

Anyway, the grasshoppers of 2008 completely blend into the oiled, graveled road so I'm never quite fully prepared for their ambush. Although, from my calculations, it seemed like for every three (3) steps one (1) would jump out from somewhere ='ing freakish spasm. During one attack, a grasshopper launched into assault and briefly landed on my leg. Subsequently, my knee-jerk reaction was that of being poked with a glowing-hot iron poker. I completely jolted from the oncoming predator while shrieking and psychotically brushing off my leg as if it bit me and injected my leg with venom, giving me mere moments left to live, which perhaps it did.

But lets get back to the wingspan issue. Grasschoppers...who knew about this and then didn't tell me? I observed a couple grasschoppers on top of some prairie grass (they were much easier to see than the ground troops) just flapping in the breeze, holding on for dear life until the very moment I walked by, then, without hesitation, launched straight into the air with their sick wings buzzing and prickly legs outstretched for landing on or around my face, successfully carrying out Operation: Freak Ryan's Shit.

Operation complete.

This is yet another example of a war I do not support.

I've been sleeping in my own blood for 2 days now. Sick, right? I know...trust me, I know. As soon as I find my Tide Bleach Eraser, I'll correct this situation. But, since it's my own blood, it doesn't bother me too much so I'll sleep just fine.

Perhaps I should explain? Fine, you win...

So Saturday was a little sloppy. I should say sloppier than normal.

Short version: I had too much to drink. I walked home with John who was equally sloppy.

We both fell. We both fell hard.

I somehow made it home only to get into my entirely white bed without even knowing about the tumble.

My hands were bleeding. My elbow was bleeding.

Somewhere I could hear my Mom crying. She has a sixth sense about me getting into trouble.

I woke up with a lot of questions, the biggest one being why my hair looked better at that exact moment than it did when I actually styled it. Such a bummer...

But the blood remains and I will eventually do something about it.

Soon. I swear.

You make me feel like a Dixie Chick...

Last month I posted a blog entry about using/not using the "N word" (I like to call it the N lyric or the N term of endearment, because then, and only then, it just makes sense) and people went all Canadian Greyhound over it. OK, fine, whatever...glad everyone has an active opinion. But then someone left an annoying comment that said something to the effect of:

"people that read this blog obviously have a higher intelligence than a dog, and there's lot of different types of discrimination and they don't need a lesson in humanity from you, so just shut your trap."

Not the anonymous commenter's exact words (and boy, were those some thought-provoking words!), but you get the gist.

My response is...uh, OK?

I'm not trying to teach anyone a lesson in humanity. I do have an opinion sometimes, yes, guilty as charged. I also have a blog that people tend to read for whatever reason. Some love it. Some hate it. Some love to hate it. Who cares?

I like to write, I like to express myself creatively, I like to speak my mind, and I like to have fun.

Stifling my creativity and the right to free speech, as well as suggesting that opinions that differ from your own are either incorrect or not to be vocalized, is a tremendously weak and rickety soapbox to stand on. Don't do it, OK?

Disagree all day long, fine, that's great -- just don't tell me to shut my trap. I'm not on The View broadcasting my ideals, I'm not on Fox News selling fiction as fact, and I'm not pointing my nicely manicured index finger in your face saying you're either with me or against me. I'm just a guy with a blog.

And I'm not ready to make nice!

I feel the need to get this off my chest: I hate lizards. I hate reptiles...of all sorts. Iguanas are not cool. Nor are any of its relatives. The thought of one being near me sends my mind, body, and spirit into a small (gigantic) state of panic where my chest tightens and subsequently my airways shrink and all I can think about is their gross, textured tail touching my arm.

Why can't global warming adversely affect the fate of all reptiles and not the polar bears? And don't you think that polar bears could just be relocated to select Northern Canadian areas (it's so cold anywhere in Canada, really) and learn to hunt different animals other than seals? Are seals SUCH easy prey (with their fat bellies just plopping around on the ice) that the polar bear is incapable of hunting and eating anything mobile? I mean, meat is meat, so could they somehow learn (or at least try) to catch an elk, or perhaps an iguana? Maybe they can't run fast enough to chase prey, which furthers my point for them to eat iguana meat. I really have no idea, but I think iguanas are slow moving.

Anyway, polar bears, just know that I'm trying. But apparently I can't change an animal's instictive culture overnight. Damn. Back to the drawing board...

In the meantime, let's make ourselves more aware of what the global warming/polar bear situation is really about and perhaps make a change?

It just dawned on me that I never see elderly rabbits or squirrels in nature. Actually, that goes for most varmints of similar nature. In my mind, the life span of a rabbit or squirrel has to be around 1-2 years, max, right? They're always being killed off during, I'd say, the human equivolence of being in the mid 30 age range, if they're lucky. It's kind of tragic, they're seemingly always being ran over by a car, eaten by a bigger animal, hunted by man, or...something, I don't know, before they get to do anything with their lives besides reproduce. They almost never die from old age. It's such a shame. I want a rabbit to be really old and be like, you know what, I can't hop anymore. My hips gave out two years back. I've seen it all, I can finally die now.

Or, have you ever seen a really old squirrel, with gray hair, climbing up trees? I want a squirrel to have a really cool penthouse apartment that he's maintained for many years, and then one winter night during hibernation, with his belly full of nuts, just passes away in his sleep in the comfort of his own home.

Instead, I always see squirrels smashed in the road with their furry tails flapping in the breeze. Or I see rabbit furs for sale at every gas station/merchant mart in the Midwest. You know, right there with all of the Native American novelty goods.

Oh, and to be clear, I'm talking about wild varmints, too. Not caged ones. I mean, we've all seen old dogs before. Their faces turn gray, they hobble around when their bones get brittle and joints are out of whack, and eventually they get so old that they're blind, deaf, and pushed around in baby strollers like this nice lady down the street does for her old Shih Tzu. I always stop and say hi to both of them. And we've all seen mangy, old cats with their hair getting all clumpy and tails are kind of nappy looking and slightly bent...plus they have that mean, raspy meow that completely dates them. Old cat alert, no mistaking them.

So, prove me wrong. The next time you're on a walk outside, look around for the tell-tale signs of aging rabbits or squirrels. Take a picture of one, too. I need photo evidence in order to believe they exist--witness testimonies or personal accounts won't suffice.

Hard evidence only.

When the going gets tough, the tough get going. Or some shizz like that. I'm banking on year 32 of my life being the best one ever. For some reason I just feel like that's the magic number.

Actually, let me take the first thing back. Nothing is really "tough" per se in my life. Some way, somehow it just feels like I'm constantly changing my mind. Indeciciveness drives me slightly insane, too. I hate when people can't make up their minds.

Apparently I'm that person though. Whoops.

It's like trying to do a crossword puzzle with a pen. Most times, if I can help it, I use this awesome blue gel pen I found somewhere...I can't exactly recall. It might have been stolen.

Anyway.

The ink is really...good and I like the way I write with it.

Seriously, back to my point, I really enjoy my daily crossword with the aforementioned pen but in reality it's just not rational. Sometimes (a lot of times) I put retarded answers in the puzzle that are surely no where near being accurate.

Oh, a five letter word for king of the sea, starting with sh? Hmm...shrew. It fits!

If I would just wise up and use a pencil, my life would be a lot easier and the crossword puzzle itself would be a lot prettier. Those blue globs of scratched out and transformed letters make for a nasty looking puzzle.

Right now I feel like my choices are just like those retarded answers in the crossword.

My life needs to be in pencil until I'm 32.

A mechanical pencil though, let's not get cheap here.

This is disgusting, but...

I keep walking into other people's farts. I know I've mentioned this before, as well as my complete hatred for the people that do it, but it keeps happening. Why do people fart so much...and in public?

Like, at bars...all the time. First of all, why would anyone do such a thing in a small, intimate area? Who farts and then runs away leaving others to wonder, "OK, who's the sick BASTARD that just did that?" Plus, I could deal without wandering eyes and pondering minds thinking, "Did YOU just do that?" No, I didn't. Adding insult to injury is the fact that a beer fart is the absolute WORSE smell in the realm of all that is obnoxiously smelly. A free floating beer fart could make even an elephant gag. No, no, it would even make the lowly dung beetle gag, even while harvesting the biggest, most endless, Sears Tower of the bug world, and overall most ginormous pile of elephant shit a beetle has ever been witness to.

Then at the gym, I was putting some weights back into the rack when BAM, it hit me. It hit me hard, too. There was an immediate rise of vomit within my throat upon the vicious odor attacking my unsuspecting state of being. Seriously, someone let one fly while lifting weights (which were probably too heavy to begin with, further resulting in an armed-and-dangerous escapee) and then immediately evacuated the area, hopefully because of embarrassment, but probably because it was the nastiest stench on Earth and anyone that is capable of producing such a thing should be relocated to the nearest landfill where they can do that sort of thing all day long with no one being the wiser.

Then, at WORK, I go to make a photocopy and waiting for me at the copy machine was not only a paper jam, but a cloud of skin-melting, eye-watering, mind-numbing, poisonous oxygen substitute. Um, did you just:

A) Leave a paper jam in the copy machine forcing someone else to open and close every tray, lid, and lever five thousand times before finding your crumpled, shredded printout of a Cosmo article informing you how to effectively seduce your hot crush into bed (Uh, for starters, my personal advice would be to start brushing your hair and perhaps, more importantly, stop farting)

and then B) Before leaving, think that oh, this would be the most perfect spot to unleash an immensely vile and heinous toxin into the air that will hopefully dissipate (but if it doesn't I could care less because my farts smell good to me) before an innocent workspace commoner stumbles upon both my lazy disrespect for office ethics and my utterly foul and nasty death spray?

Seriously people, hold it in until you're in an outside, well-ventilated area (the ideal location being underwater) or at the very least take some Beano.

It's not a request anymore.

Happy 200th post to me. I feel like that's a lot.

So, being the crossword fanatic that I am, I tend to get somewhat upset with myself when I can't finish the daily puzzle in the paper. Such was my luck with yesterday's crossword.

Now, a strategy of mine is to save the ever-frustrating first/last name clues for very last...as a means of logical deduction and idea-elimination since I can almost never guess those correctly. I feel like the clue is always some obscure actor or actress from the 1960's B&W era (although I was REALLY lucky and it somehow came to me in a Raven Baxter-inspired vision that a six letter word for a "Morning Train, singer Easton" was...Sheena. Sheena Easton, picture it Ryan, picture it!...yeah yeah yeah, that sounds right! And it was. Score.).

Anyway, the clues (and of course they were geographically intermingled together in the puzzle so that no progress could be made unless I guessed at least ONE) that I could-not-for-the-life-of-me fathom were:

1. 5 letter word for razor sharpener
2. 4 letter word for beach bird
3. 3 letter word for habitual drunkard
4. 4 letter word for on the waves

I couldn't even sleep; the clues were warping my mind. Back and forth I would scurry through the alphabet putting consonants with vowels while filling in the blank boxes with letters to see if it could form a word that didn't even have to sound real, I just needed something...my, oh my it was a night from hell. And hell is where the clues were created.

Anyway, thanks to the crossword answers in today's paper I now know the answers to these clues but NEVER would have guessed them...ever.

Answers:

1. Honer
2. Tern
3. Sot
4. Asea

(I'm almost positive that some of those words went through my mind, and dreams, last night but, uhhh, do any of those words sound real to you?)

The Hasselbeck/Goldberg N-word issue is overly ridiculous. Hasselbeck says "let's move forward, stop using it altogether" and Whoopi says "No, we own the word, we can use it the way WE want to now, it's OK." For once, I stand by Hasselbeck on the issue. I'm not going to cry about it though.

The word is completely inappropriate and disrespectful on all levels, no questions asked. There's no arguing that. However, black people can't "take the word back" either. Especially the black folk of 2008. Slavery doesn't exist anymore. It hasn't existed for, I would say, most people's Earthly existence. Yes, relatives, ancestry...I get it. I didn't take part in slavery just because I'm white. Neither did any of my family, or my family's family. When racism exists, it's on a separate playing field. It's at the hands of personal will. It's not in our government, it's not in our jobs, and it's not in power. It's the minority.

Funny sidenote though (and mildly relevant)...

but, there is a lot of hate in this world. Sorry black people, you're not the only ones suffering. People hate people for ALL kinds of reasons, it stems far beyond simply being black. While some people may hate a certain race (any race, there are plenty), they also hate religions, they hate gays and lesbians, they hate people who get abortions, they hate the poor, they hate the rich, they hate the Man, they hate politicians, they hate the people who support the politicians, they hate those who are different or think differently than that of the mainstream. Yet the black button is still forefronted for some reason. It's actually quite aggravating. Mistakenly or blazingly using the N word demands headlines and front pages, it gets ratings, it ends careers, it ruins reputations, it gets people talking/screaming/fighting: it causes mass hysteria.

But what happens when suicide bombers blow up churches? What happens when bullied and tormented goth students shoot dozens of their classmates and teachers at school? What happens during Gay Pride parades when people picket saying "Fags burn in Hell"? What happens when men call women ho's and bitches in popular, mainstream music?

Oh, nothing.

That's not as horrifying as the N-word. Really?

The N-word is simply a buzz word. It sparks controversy, it sells papers, it glues eyes to the tube, and it gets under people's skin.

The other forms of hate speech are just, you know, regular, old hate speech that we disregard as "people's opinions." Nothing special, just...ugh, boring, run-of-the-hate-mill, every day kind of stuff.

BUT when it comes to: I'm white, you're black. I can't use the N word, you can.

Front page. Woah, kind of a reverse racism, isn't it? Nowadays you can't get away with saying the N word...so what's the problem? I mean, the word's existence is entirely not acceptable on behalf of my own (and many, many, many other people's) moral standard and evolved education, but lives and breathes because black people exclusively insist on using it for their own purposes? Purposes such as "terms of endearment" and household reference? Weird.

Give me a break.

Trust me, I get it: Bad people exist. Bad people have existed. Bad things happen. Bad things have happened. I get it. Let's move forward. Advance society. Continue to educate. The N word doesn't promote any advancement or education, I don't care who you are or where you came from.

Taye Diggs, for some reason (I guess because he's black and a celebrity) felt the need to comment on the issue:

“(Hasselbeck) doesn’t understand, and, no offense — I don’t think any white person has the right to tell a black person or to even weigh in on subject matter such as that,” Diggs told “Access Hollywood” on Thursday. “They don’t know what it’s like to be called that word; they don’t know what it’s like to be black.”

OK, Taye, thanks for your valuable input. Yes, so I can't have an opinion about the matter because I am (she is) white? OK. Interesting and just ever-so slightly hypocritical.

I love how we're not supposed to see in color, how we're "one" people, an evolving society, races don't separate us, it's the year 2008, yet white people CANNOT do something that black people CAN. Would that "free pass" ever fly if it were the other way around?

Absolutely not.

However, I do know what it's like to be separated from society, to be outcasted, to be ridiculed, to be treated like a second class citizen, to be devalued, to be disregarded, to be demoralized, to be hated...

So, yes, I do have an opinion and I'll gladly weigh in on the subject: the word is wrong. You, as a black person (and just because you're a black person) can't have it. Move on without it. Stop using it. It's hate. And if you, as a black person or any race for that matter, choose to keep the word alive then you choose to live (and dwell) in your own, ignorant misery.

Separation is separation. You fought against it...no, no, we fought against it, I still fight against it, and I will continue to fight against it, on all levels, for all causes, and for all people, so don't undermine the process.

Then again, you're racist if you do and you're racist if you don't, apparently.

Thanks Whoopi and Taye for your understanding of my white perspective.

I'm doing some soul searching.

So...would you keep a job where they pay you VERY well but you are SO not interested in the actual work

OR...

would you move forward with a job that pays WAY less but the work is intensely interesting and the career field is much more rewarding

??

I love feeling like I'm doing my life justice by doing gratifying work but at the same time I love the benjamins.

That fine, fine journalist Liz Crokin released yet another amazing article in the RedEye this week regarding the latest celeb-happenings in and around Chicago. Here's an excerpt:

Josh-ing around
Josh Kelley performed at Hotel Indigo last Monday night, and my intern, Julie Corirossi, got a chance to chat with the rocker, who plans to work on a new album this month.

Kelley talked about his recent vacation to Mexico with wife Katherine Heigl of "Grey's Anatomy." "It was awesome," Kelley said. "We ate a lot."

He said Heigl still is struggling to quit smoking. "I know eventually she would like to quit, but she will do it on her own time."

Heigl didn't make it to Chicago with Kelley--she has been filming "Grey's."

Sightings
I caught up with "Hancock" star Johnny Galecki at Underground's Rewind party on Thursday night. My friend and I asked him what it was like working with Will Smith, and he had nothing but nice things to say about him. "He's a fine, fine man," Galecki said. >> Barack Obama and wife Michelle recently had dinner at Spiaggia. ... Josh Kelley had lunch at Blue Water Grill on Tuesday. >> NBA star Chris Duhon celebrated Independence Day at Martini Park on Friday. >> Diddy was spotted at the Trump International Hotel & Tower on Saturday night. >> Jesse Jackson strolled down Rush Street on Saturday afternoon.

Wow, you guys. Wasn't that some startling information! Totally exclusive and hot! Not.

You might remember that I flipped shit on Liz's last Josh Kelley interview because it was offensively ALL about his wife, Katherine Heigl (who I personally, and I'm not alone here, think she sucks just as bad as Liz). Now, Liz's intern must be taking some serious notes on her mentor's intensive and hard-hitting journalistic style because, shock me shock me, she too embarrassingly asks Kelley about, not himself (absurd!), but HEIGL! How was your vacation with Heigl? Did Heigl quit smoking? Is Heigl in Chicago with you? Can my iron-fisted boss Liz bone your wife all night long while you wait outside your own hotel room and listen at the door?

Oh, and sidenote, Kelley is putting out an album later this month, but leave that for the fine print please.

Liz Crokin's RedEye articles are painstakingly dreadful and her lack of creative or unique Q&A ideas are a constant theme in her monotonous and boring weekly article. In fact, if you read an excerpt on the RedEye website, Liz doesn't even oversee the "Sightings" blurb herself; RedEye readers email Liz if they see an A-Z list celebrity in town...and then Liz reports it like she was at the clubs herself sharing bottles of Cristal with Diddy and dancing on tables with Paris. Oh, she isn't? She's at home thinking up funny nicknames for her 17 cats? Weird. (Mr. Fluffy I'm gonna call you...Mr...McFluff! No, Mr. Fluff-meister...no,no...Mr. Fluff-n-stuff! Ahahahaha! You're so cute, awww.)

Does the Trib pay her? I mean...seriously, do they pay her real money...not like Monopoly money or something? Here, Liz, here's a thousand dollars for that amazing interview. Go buy yourself a house on Baltic Avenue or perhaps a railroad. If they do pay her in official US currency, is it more than minimum wage? The Chicago Tribune just cut like 80 jobs and I hope, hope, hope hers was one of them. They could be saving $60 a day if they did!

It'd be well worth it.

Things on my mind:

-How many carbs should I be eating everyday? Kinda scares me that I'm OD'ing...toast is my new best friend and our relationship might be getting REALLY serious REALLY fast.
-Does anyone care that Madonna might be divorcing her husband? I don't. Does anyone care about Madonna? I don't.
-I'm going to see Carly Smithson perform next weekend and I need T-shirt ideas. Crazy for Carly seems waaaay too incredibly fifth grade level, so I need something entirely more clever.
-Smoking is bad. Drugs are bad. Crocs are bad. Stay away from all three.
-I got 6 hours of sleep between Thursday night and Sunday morning. This last weekend was SO much fun I can barely stand that it's over.
-I bought a new headboard for my bed and it's all kinds of sexy.
-Paint color samples are taking over my life. I need professional help...with painting, that is.
-Summer romance: wanted.
-Saturday night was a total creep fest: I was creeped out like no other on a seemingly minute-by-minute basis. First it was a semi-scary conversation that I had with someone and their freakshow story was, weirdly, similar to a past incident of my own, then it was a sighting of ginormous sewer rats running across a sidewalk I was on, then it was a scary YouTube clip that freaked me out for some reason, then it was huge nasty roach of some sort hanging out on John's couch cushion that was less than 3 inches away from my neck and face. So much creepin, so little time.
-So I went to lunch just now at Mezza (delicious as always) and woah, the rudeness of some of the customers in line was slightly out of control. I've never worked in the fast food biz but I appreciate those who do because I'm sure they put up with a lot of bullshit and nastiness everyday. I have a theory that "customers" get the most snappy when it comes to food and banking. So, I'm standing in line and there's this 20-something, black hipster kid who is on his cellphone while ordering. It's a Mediterranean pita place so they make your pita in front of you (like at Subway) so, this nice guy that works there...and I know he's nice because I eat there every day and he is always so nice to me and already knows my order so I don't even have to say anything, asks this punk kid what he wants on his pita and he's like "a LOT of cheese...no, MO' cheese! I said MO! A lil bit of lettuce, lil bit of chopped tomatoes...just a LIL. And Ranch....mo' ranch. Keep goin. MO! That's it." All of this was said with this impatient, rude, demanding tone. He doesn't even make the slightest attempt to say thank you at any point in time. All the while, the kid is on his cell phone (most annoying thing ever) while barking his order. THEN the guy behind me is this stupid office worker guy who is completely rude, but I don't know if he's aware of the fact that he's being rude because somewhere within his pissy rant he included the words "thank you" and "sorry." This other girl that works there was making his pita and he was spouting off a hundred different things all at once (in this pitchy, rat-like voice of his) about what he wanted on his pita, and when she said it back to him she apparently added a condiment by mistake...

Worker girl: Okay you want hummus, cucumber, feta, diced tomatoes, and lettuce?
Jerk Customer: Lettuce? Thank you, but I don't want lettuce, I didn't ask for lettuce, and I didn't say lettuce. Did I say lettuce? Sorry, but I don't think I did.

That statement literally came out in one long sentence. The worker girl just responded "Oh, sorry, no lettuce."

I wanted to turn around and say "Uh, didn't I see you run across the sidewalk just the other night? You know, you had a long, pink tail? Anyway, could you please lower your ratty voice down to a normal, human octave because all you really had to say was no lettuce, you ginormous ASS."

But I refrained.

I didn't want to come across as being rude.

You've gotta love Craigslist. I mean, any website that allows nearly uncontrolled access to its users is always a marvelous and intriguing sight.

So I'm perusing the furniture for sale listings in Chicago--I'm in need of a couple of skinny bookcases for my apartment. Nothing fancy, just something that is tall, dark, and handsome, just like yours truly. Well...I'm not so much tall, but 5'10 is a solid, average height, right?

Anyway, so I came across a listing for a $30 bookcase in Lincoln Park. Here's what the ad revealed:

Bookcase $30 OBO



And at the bottom it read this:

*Stuff on top, in, and around bookcase is not for sale*

OK, where do I begin? I realize that not everyone has an eye for detail. That's fine. Actually, there is a lot of detail going on in this picture. I feel like this photo could be used for one of those MegaTouch games where you have to find what's missing or different between two "identical" photos. The Craigslist seller should totally sell this pic to MegaTouch. But are you REALLY trying to sell a bookcase on Craigslist, where there are potentially hundreds of other sellable bookcases, by using THAT picture? You took the 10 minutes to post the ad but you couldn't take the 5 minutes to remove the dangling pair of heels, what-looks-to-be a small bottle of aspirin (must have been a good night!), a wicker basket, and 20 books lying haphazardly all over the place? And is that how your apartment looks every day of the week? Can you even get through your door?

Did you ever see the Full House episode where Danny Tanner couldn't date Stephany's cute dance teacher because her apartment was a ginormous disaster? ...I feel like she put this ad up.

And seriously, the heels? You couldn't even at least stand the one heel upright? It's barely hanging onto the bookcase as it is. And bookcases are typically meant for books, yes, and I see a feeble attempt at this, but again with the upright thing.

Now let's get to the price and disclaimer. I mean, hell yes, I'll give you $30 for that solid piece of IKEA craftsmanship, no problem--in fact, I'll give you $50 because it's SO gorgeously assembled. BUT DAMN! That random stuff in and around it isn't included? Wha wha what? Why the heck not?! I'll pay good money for it! I need that basket!

And that detergent!

Today I read a very interesting Newsweek article written about the potential massacre of wild horses. The US government and the BLM (Bureau of Land Management) are looking into eradicating wild mustangs from the open fields of the west. According to the government and ranchers alike (currently one in the same), wild horses overgraze and deprive ranch cattle from feasting. Wait a sec, I thought they injected cows with steroids to get them so...beefy? I digress.

Anyway, there are approximately 33,000 actual wild horses in the US wheras there are over 17 million cows at any point in time within the US.

This is another Bushy problem, too. Bush has close ties to our nations beef producers and therefore, as always, is trying to appease his allies.

Save the Mustangs! The thought of a wild horse being near me is somewhat scary (I feel like they'd try to bite me) but they're beautiful creatures and the thought of only seeing horses at hick-town parades or at the gambling tracks is even more horrific and sad.

If I could spend every day
this way
I would.

If I could be here
and there
all day
every day
I would.

If I could think this thought
and keep it real
all day
this way
I would.

If I could feel
like I do
right now, every day
I would.

If you could feel the way
I feel
and say
all day

that you love me
I wish you would.

--ryansumner