today in 'stupid emails'

somehow my work email address was put on a junk mail list, and it's annoying the shit out of me. today i was really glad to learn that i would be able to speak within 10 days, and that strangers are spreading rumors of my death to get a large sum of money that i wasn't aware i had.

and whoever sent this next one is a racist...why they gotta be white men???

From: johntuny2190@terra.es [mailto:johntuny2190@terra.es]

Sent: Thursday, August 06, 2009 6:38 PM

Subject: ATTEN;

ATTEN;There are 3 White men who stormed my office.They said that you were dead and they were your next of kin to your contract fund.Contact me on this Email:cbbenin@live.fr immediately as your silence will indicate that you authorized them

Regards,Mr.JOHN TONY,

Tel; +22996478669
Ahora también puedes acceder a tu correo Terra desde el móvil.Infórmate pinchando aquí.

so i decided to respond to Mr John Tony, and think that this could be fun. here is my email to him...can't wait until he responds!

Mr. John Tony,

I regret to inform you that I am, in fact, alive. The proof is right here in this email. White people are nothing but liars. If 2 black men ever storm in your office and tell you that I am dead, you should most certainly believe them because they are honest and trustworthy. President George W Bush should have taught you that white men are full of shit. Because I am living, I would like this contract fund of which you speak. Please let me know the most expeditous way to resolve this.

Your new business partner that you thought was dead,

Brooke

this just in!

nothing changes when you are 30, except for everyone's expectations. so...this is just a short and sweet note to let everyone know that 30 did not bring about any biological clock, and i am still standing strong against marriage and procreation (despite a recent birth control mishap...what? too much info? why are you here again?). i have the career under wraps, and still all the desire to enjoy the hell out of myself. i am tied to my freedom like you are tied to your spouse and kids...so just accept it.



that being said, i am realizing that a southern city is probably about the worst place for someone of my kind. where are all the people who go against the grain of american society? call me...we can do some fun shit that doesn't involve having to take care of anyone but yourself. maybe this would be the best time to build brooketopia.

we're all going to die.

crop circles. they are all the rave. and i don’t get it. and i don’t mean that i don’t get them (the crop circles), i mean i don’t get they hype. just like with anything else that humans don’t have the answer to, we will sit here and form the most outrageous theories that are rarely based on knowledge of factual information, but rather our beliefs, fears, and imaginations.

but i am not going to debate who is responsible for the crop circles, because i could go any direction. if someone can have the desire to kill and eat 15 people, then it would be a vast underestimation to think that someone bored as hell on a fucking farm wouldn’t spend some time planning a way to freak out the world over his patterned corn cropping. on the flip side, an alien could walk in my office right now and take a piss on my floor and i wouldn’t be fazed.

point # 1: i could give a fuck about crop circles, who is responsible for them, what they mean, etc.

so here’s the article that got me on this topic:

an excerpt: “investigators claim more formations are referencing the possibility of a cataclysmic event occurring on december 21, 2012, which coincides with the end of the ancient mayan calendar.”

my initial reaction to this is that 12/21 is my roommate’s bday…which means he might be able to go out with a bang while we are celebrating his birth…which would be pretty cool.

but then i keep reading. and i get to the comments. and then i see people debating what it all means, while others are quoting scripture, some debating who formed the crop circle, and a few the mayan culture, etc. and i think it’s all fucking bullshit.

so…this is not about the crop circles to me…it’s about why people are so afraid of the end of the world.

here are a couple of reminders:

you will die one day (unless you are a vampire, but that’s a whole other topic)

we are maggots, sucking life from this earth

when the shit hits the fan, it’s going to hit the fan and this universe is too big and powerful to worry about the nice house you built for yourself and the fact that you aren’t ready to leave

you cannot redirect a meteor, or a bomb, or whatever wipes the earth's surface clean of us

we are pretty stupid

okay…with all that being said, here’s my issue: what the fuck does it matter if the world as we know it comes to an end? what do you think you are going to be missing out on? i am not saying that people should look forward to dying, but by being alive, you are subject to death…every second of every day. it’s that simple. if your heart is beating, it could just as easily stop beating. what if it’s pissed at you one day, and is just like, 'fuck this asshole, i am going to take a long nap'. you’re done. and that’s your heart…inside your body…it belongs to you…thrives in your chest cavity…and at any given moment it could end you. but i don’t see anyone trying to interpret a religious or spiritual meaning behind a heart palpitation. get it?

death is death. no matter how it comes. and quite frankly, if the end of the world comes while you are still inhabiting the earth, consider the fact that your family and friends will never have to mourn over your death. i am all for us all going out together. why the fuck not? then we can all get our last thrills (or hugs and kisses) in, and be done. no, i am not trying to get anyone to drink the kool-aid. just saying…our lives aren’t that fucking meaningful on this planet. but if you need that security blanket to keep from slitting your wrists, go on telling yourself that you are a miracle, that we are here for a reason, that life is a test, fill in the blank.

i personally feel that we are here by chance…the natural evolution of things. no one planned on my existence, and no powerful being has a place for me after this. life is life, without all the bullshit everyone adds to it to make it seem more important than it is. it’s about doing whatever you want to do…and if that consists of falling into the trap of fear and old school fables that you misinterpret, then go for it. i will be enjoying myself, and not living as a hostage to all that jazz. and i have a feeling (but you know…i am full of opinions) that we will all end up in the same place. not heaven, not hell, not purgatory…but nowhere. if i am wrong, then you will have plenty of time to remind me of that in the after life. until then, i am going to enjoy myself.

so that’s my rambling of the month. it’s not to strike a debate because we are all entitled to believe what we will. so if your bible and your heaven make you sleep well at night, good for you. vodka usually helps me sleep well. and sex…that knocks me out.

here’s to 12/21/12!

almonds, bacon and qvc-wrapped in email. deliciously low fat.

Well known fact about me: I have a tendency to overindulge. I like instant gratification, and a lot of it. Hence the reason I am still staggering around searching for more booze having a conversation that I won’t remember with someone whose number will end up in my phone and I will never call because I won’t remember them either, hours after I should have been passed out because my conscious brain and most motor functions have shut themselves down. But the overindulgence doesn’t only pertain to booze, it just gets the most attention…it has come close to killing me a couple of times and apparently some people are concerned about that. But let’s not let cheese fall too far into the shadows…because that shit is dangerous.

Little known fact about me: I buy foods that I sometimes don’t like that much as a defense against my overindulgent ways. It’s like those southwestern whatever baked lays they have now…they are really good, but REALLY overzealous, making it hard to eat more than a serving size.

Something completely random about me: I like to stop on the QVC channel and read aloud the name of whatever they happen to be selling during that run through of the channels. The names are always ridiculously long. Seriously. It’s like people who are hired at QVC to decide what items they stock and sell are given one guideline: “Item must be titled with at least 7-12 words to appear more important than it actually is”. I think it’s obnoxious, but to pull the obnoxiousness from the actual tv and make it a real part of my living environment, I announce it to whoever happens to be in my company. It’s like a QVC pit stop.

What does any of this shit have to do with anything other than the fact that I am insane? Where the fuck am I going with this? Just keep reading.

Yesterday I was grocery shopping at Target, and I needed almonds, specifically Blue Diamond Roasted Almonds. They are good, and good for you (I don’t work for them). I noticed the smokehouse variety and was like, ‘what do the smokehouse ones taste like?’. This was asked rhetorically, as I did not expect that there was a blue diamond rep hidden behind the stocked cans of fruit pits, waiting until a customer with the decision making skills of a down syndrome aardvark inquired about how their smokehouse variety would tickle the palette. But then Jarrett answers, ‘I didn’t like them, they are like bbq flavored…you would probably like them’. Well of course I would like them if they are bbq flavored. SOLD!

Now it’s today, and I open the can at work, and the smell of them punches me in the face harder than if an actual dead pig had been tossed at me like a pillow in a teenager's slumber party soft porn. I taste one, and I wonder how they can take something as delightful as an almond and make it taste like a hard wooden ball of bacon. It’s like a dog treat. Did I mention that I hate bacon?

Would you think this would be worthy of an email string? And if so, would that email string end up uncovering my distaste for people's infatuation with religious characters? If you said no, then you are fucking retarded.

From: Brooke (CLT) [mailto:Brooke

Sent: Thursday, May 28, 2009 11:50 AM

To: Jarrett

Subject: Smokehouse almonds taste like

NOT

Not a fan.


From: Jarrett [mailto:Jarrett_]

Sent: Thursday, May 28, 2009 11:52 AM

To: Brooke (CLT)

Subject: RE: Smokehouse almonds taste like

Yes that is a better description. I apologize for the misinformation.

From: Brooke (CLT) [mailto:Brooke.]

Sent: Thursday, May 28, 2009 12:02 PM

To: Jarrett

Subject: RE: Smokehouse almonds taste like

it's all good. i will still eat them...and at least that way it will keep me from eating more than 5 at a time. that's what i call flavor control eating

From: Jarrett [mailto:Jarrett_]

Sent: Thursday, May 28, 2009 12:03 PM

To: Brooke (CLT)

Subject: RE: Smokehouse almonds taste like

Haha…you have just coined a new phrase

From: Brooke CLT) [mailto:Brooke.]

Sent: Thursday, May 28, 2009 12:14 PM

To: Jarrett

Subject: RE: Smokehouse almonds taste like

i think i should come up with some product...or write a book about it and sell it for like 12.95 on QVC

Brooke's Flavor Control Eating: The Unknown Answer to Your Diet Disasters- First Edition Paperback with Special Wallet-sized Grocery List Companion and Flavor Identifier

From: Jarrett [mailto:Jarrett_]

Sent: Thursday, May 28, 2009 12:15 PM

To: Brooke (CLT)

Subject: RE: Smokehouse almonds taste like

LOL…that is perfect

From: Brooke (CLT) [mailto:Brooke.]

Sent: Thursday, May 28, 2009 4:34 PM

To: Jarrett

Subject: RE: Smokehouse almonds taste like

it's all coming together so perfectly. i wrote the book in like 10 minutes, it's being printed as we speak, and QVC has already given me the date that the book will debut on their wonderful channel of yard sale worthy goods. check out the item window blast:

From: Jarrett [mailto:Jarrett_]

Sent: Thursday, May 28, 2009 4:36 PM

To: Brooke (CLT)

Subject: RE: Smokehouse almonds taste like

LOL…you must have a lot of time on your hands right now

From: Brooke CLT) [mailto:Brooke.]

Sent: Thursday, May 28, 2009 4:37 PM

To: Jarrett

Subject: RE: Smokehouse almonds taste like

not at all...just got the email from QVC and thought i would send you a snippet.

From: Jarrett [mailto:Jarrett_]

Sent: Thursday, May 28, 2009 4:39 PM

To: Brooke (CLT)

Subject: RE: Smokehouse almonds taste like

Oh ok

From: Brooke (CLT) [mailto:Brooke.]

Sent: Thursday, May 28, 2009 4:47 PM

To: Jarrett

Subject: RE: Smokehouse almonds taste like

And this is from the publisher. I don't really like it, but i guess it's QVC worthy

From: Jarrett [mailto:Jarrett_]

Sent: Thursday, May 28, 2009 4:50 PM

To: Brooke (CLT)

Subject: RE: Smokehouse almonds taste like

Hmmm…they didn’t spend much on production and design

From: Brooke (CLT) [mailto:Brooke.]

Sent: Thursday, May 28, 2009 4:51 PM

To: Jarrett

Subject: RE: Smokehouse almonds taste like

Not at all...but if you think about the people who will be buying this madness then does it really matter? they probably have porcelain lily pad candle holders that say jesus loves frogs on their bedside tables.

From: Jarrett [mailto:Jarrett_]

Sent: Thursday, May 28, 2009 4:56 PM

To: Brooke (CLT)

Subject: RE: Smokehouse almonds taste like

From: Brooke (CLT) [mailto:Brooke.]

Sent: Thursday, May 28, 2009 4:57 PM

To: Jarrett

Subject: RE: Smokehouse almonds taste like

oh. my. god. i bet you cuddled with that when you were little.

From: Jarrett [mailto:Jarrett_]

Sent: Thursday, May 28, 2009 5:00 PM

To: Brooke (CLT)

Subject: RE: Smokehouse almonds taste like

No, but my mom probably has one now.

From: Brooke (CLT) [mailto:Brooke.]

Sent: Thursday, May 28, 2009 5:01 PM

To: Jarrett

Subject: RE: Smokehouse almonds taste like

order her a tshirt that says "jesus loves southern women who think he exists"



and there you have it. wasted brain space, bacon almonds and fake american dreams. these are the things that consume my day. thanks

brooke penis-wrists

i think i must be superhuman. if not then i have the healing powers of a superhuman. i was rearranging my bedroom today, and somehow slit my wrist open...a perfect line that runs parallel to the radial and ulnar arteries...right in the middle of them. so if whatever i inflicted myself with had hit half an inch in either direction, i might have just bled to death all in an effort to make room for an elliptical. but still, i was gushing blood, and kinda pissed because i thought i might have to go get stitches. and now...4 hours later...it looks like i was scratched by a cat. it's like i grew skin to bridge the gaping laceration. it's really bizarre. i keep staring at it in astonishment. but even weirder, it seems as though my wrist was implanted with something long and somewhat cylindrical...like a small bic lighter. and it's hard. you can press it, and it feels like there is something in there. i made me roommate examine it and press on it as well...and he thinks i should donate my body to science.

maybe i didn't open my wrist up on my furniture. maybe the government put a tracking device in my arm. maybe i am going crazy and my arm was amputated 5 years ago, and this is a really long dream in which i am capable of moving furniture and typing with 2 hands and this fake injury is my conscious trying to remind my subconscious that i don't actually have a left arm and i should wake the fuck up. but that's pretty far-fetched. therefore i must just be superhuman. yes...that makes more sense.

now that i am looking at it again, it actually looks kinda like a penis growing on my arm. maybe if it keeps growing i could donate it to that naked wizard guy whose penis was seriously the smallest thing i have ever seen. you probably don't know what the fuck i am talking about, but you should definitely find out because it's scary. actually, after thinking about that poor guy i don't give a fuck what's going on with my arm. and neither should you...but you should watch naked wizard man with the world's smallest penis. poor thing.

OH MY GOD I HAVE A PENIS ON MY ARM THAT PUTS THIS MAN TO SHAME.

today in 'things better left unsaid-the swine flu officedemic'

i really don't have a filter. and i don't give a shit, but at the same time, i can admit when i probably should have just been quiet. well…i can admit it sometimes. i was in the elevator at work with a few other women, and this bitch with a stroller walks into the lobby. i am hoping that someone will push the button to close the doors. instead, someone throws a leg out and yells, "oh, a baby”!! i wish that was an exaggeration. unfortunately it was just a terrible display of this 30 something's desperation to have a child, be near a child, smother a child with her cooing and reflect on why she is alone and hasn't yet procreated. so i am like…fuck. i backed myself into the corner of the elevator while the door is held for this apparent miracle creature. in rolls the baby, and all of the estrogen ridden monsters are immediately hunched over him. the top of the stroller is closed, and there is literally like a 4x4 inch window through which we can see the sleeping child. so i am like…leave him the fuck alone. maybe he doesn't want to be bothered. maybe his mama has him trapped so you all can't blow your hot breath in his face. i am amazed that babies’ first sentences aren’t, “get the fuck out of my face”. but while everyone is chatting it up about how cute he is and how curly his hair is and how much he’s, um, asleep, i say, "hey there…i see your mama has you in a little bubble. you aren't going to get the swine flu are you? no!"

one girl laughed, but she looked hungover and slutty--the type who probably just downed plan b with her morning coffee. the rest of the bitches gasped and dropped their jaws, staring at me like i just told them that the baby would be better off in a dumpster. when we got off the elevator one of the girls was like, “i can’t believe you said that!” i mean, was it that bad? is the baby now destined to get the swine flu? do people lack the ability to chill the fuck out? for fuck’s sake it’s not that serious.

to make matters worse, the mom just happened to be coming to show off her fat little jewel to someone in my area of the building…so i got to be within earshot when the baby was woken from his slumber and started squealing like a pig. seriously…he was growin hooves. Looks like it was too late for the efforts of a bubble stroller.

we can always blame the children.

drink away the fear

am i the only one sick of all the swine flu crap? i mean...1 child has died in texas. meanwhile, in all 50 states, thousands of kids have been raped or exploited or locked in the attic, hundreds of people have died due to AIDS related complications, 115 people have died in car accidents, 10 soldiers lost their lives, a couple of people drowned, and i have a fucking hangnail. yet, the swine flu has people all in a fucking tizzy. simmer down. until the swine flu takes the form of a visible being that lacks the strength to break down your door, you can do nothing to avoid it. i would also suggest not having sex with any pigs. or goats...because they hang out with their pig friends. it's cute how they wallow about in the trash together all day. such an unlikely pair.

what the fuck am i talking about? i don't even know if pigs and goats hang out. i mean...i don't know why they wouldn't. they are both mild mannered creatures. both unfrazzled by their surroundings. they might be in cahoots and this outbreak of swine flu is the way for the glorious little pig to stick up for his best farm friend. it's all because of you goat fuckers. you are the reason this near pandemic is sweeping the nation (and by that i mean killing one mexican child in texas).

but if animal farm taught me one thing, it's that pigs are egotistical power hungry beasts. george orwell's depiction of this dirty little curly tailed creature is 100% accurate actually. he was the nostradamus of his time. pigs are taking over the world. damn i am glad i read that book. just like realizing at age 28 that you DO actually need some of that math you were forced to learn, i now see the reason behind at least 1 of 40 assigned readings.

so it's settled. we are all going to die. turn off the tv, drink some booze, and go gracefully. the more tequila you drink, the less you will be aware of as the swine flu takes you over and you slowly drift from your body. oh but wait...tequila is from mexico. fuck, i'm scared.

this is just the shit i am thinking about today

my parents should have poured boiling water on me every time i ate cheese, because then it would have only been once.

every member of the media machine has a boner for the swine flu. just like that bird flu that wiped out the population a few years ago.

if you give divorce court a chance, you will find that it's extremely entertaining. unless one of your relatives was one of the toothless fuck jobs on there, then it would just be a shame.

seeing a grown man cry over something that is really sad (like a dead dog) is the hardest thing ever. seeing him cry about something like the fact that his fat wife was spending more time in a yahoo chat room than with him is just hilarious. yes...still on divorce court.

someone should create cold fire. i would like the fireplace to cool me in the summer time.

oh shit...this wife on divorce court...she's suing for $350 for the electrical bill. 1) how long did you go without paying to power your trailer for the bill to be $350, 2) really? court for $350?, 3) i love you guys, and your speech impediments

i should quit smoking, but those damn truth commercials always make me light up. especially that one when he is trying to ship cyanide and the one when they wrestle in applesauce, and the one with the wheezing sewer rat, and the dying babies...okay, all of them. if we all quit smoking, we won't get to see these funny installations any longer. i just can't support that.

the lottery should be easier to win, but only for me.

that's it for now. there is too much substance in these 8 bullets for any one person to handle, i know.

TGIF...hurry the fuck up

is there something wrong with living for friday? that's all i do. i mean, there are the random nights during the week that i get fucked up and try to pretend like i am still living pre-rehab. but for the most part, i find stupid shit to do to waste time until friday, more specifically, friday at 5:30. then of course i glide through saturday and suddenly it's sunday, and i start to dread monday. so what we have here is 4 full days longing for friday, 1 full day of what the fuck ever, and 1 full day of dreading monday. that means that 72% of my time is spent in anticipation of a day other than the current one. wow. that's sad. but maybe it's just sad that so much time is spent doing shit that i have no interest in doing.

i interrupt this to announce a text i just rec'd...

dial 973-409-3274 to vote 2 make weed legal...this is real shit, pass this # around. we need 1 mill ppl 4 this 2moro so obama can pass this bill. real shit!

i highly doubt this is "real shit", but i will be calling it soon, just to fuck with whoever these people want so many people to fuck with.

anyways...back to what i was saying. the endless cycle. i can't accept it. is there something fucking wrong with that? people are like, "get a hobby". i have several. it just so happens that my favorite involves getting fucking plastered. when beligerance is your preferred state of mind, hobbies are just temporary distractions...distractions that do not involve candid moments of spontaneity and insanity...2 of the most important ingredients in life.

so grow old, work your ass off to be able to spend the minority of your time enjoying yourself. that's bullshit. there should be a support group for people like me. and i don't mean AA, because i have been to my fair share of those self indulgent gatherings. i mean a support group to pull together people who don't just get sucked in and become complacement with the endless rotation of society. we could probably throw the best fucking party ever. so scratch that...i have a support group. it's called My Friends. Bo is the leader. he has already sent me 3 texts today alerting me that tomorrow is, in fact, friday...like i need a reminder. and he knows that. both of us are doing nothing but dreaming up ways to make the earth rotate a little faster, then slow down drastically, then speed up once again.

so this seems kind of depressing. and it kind of is. drinking keeps me from dwelling on this same shit and right now, i happen to be sober. but don't take it as a negative thing. just look at it as a way for me to kill some time, waiting for friday.

just called that number...it's busy.

just called again...and you really can press # to support the legalization of mary jane. okay...i don't know about the bill tomorrow bullshit...but whatever...i will show my support.

one of me

i most definitley have multiple personalities. how is it that in the time it takes to refresh a facebook page, i realize the tv is now on bravo, poisoning my brain with the real housewives of fill in the blank...when just 2 minutes ago i was watching news updates about the latest and greatest of the caylee anthony story. but what's that story anyways? didn't they find her body months ago? she's dead. let's move on. we should save some of our emotional distress for when of our loved ones is murdered, stashed in a trunk and discarded on the side of the road.

anyways, i don't know how the tv got on bravo. i would blame my dog if i had one. and i really want one...like most women my age want children. but i recognize that it would be selfish to have a dog cooped up in this apartment all day when i was at work. too bad so many women don't realize that it's selfish to leave a child cooped up while they are off to suck more dick for crack. back to the point...i didn't change the channel. or maybe i did, but while my body was being directed by a lesser known personality that my brain is hosting. one that wishes that i was a spoiled rich wife who gets weekly botox injections and hops around a tennis court in my tiffany jewels, finding the most ridiculous shit to bitch about. yes, that must be one of the personalities. update...she can't find her tennis racket and she just had it a minute ago right there with her bottle of water and her towel!!! wow...that happens to me all the time. she doesn't remember moving her racket, i don't remember changing the channel. true story. i couldn't make this shit up if i tried.

i am a real housewife of new york. this is not a delusion people. this is real.

drink it up

i really want to go back to the days of completely not giving a fuck about anything. humans aren't built to sustain all the emotional roller coasters that life hands them. but short of being sociopaths, we aren't able to not give a shit about anything. this is where the alcohol comes in.
rehab really fucked me up, and i can't believe it has taken me this long to realize it. 2 years of being sober for the better half of my weeks, and i finally understand that sober=shit. i have nothing more to show for now, than i did pre-rehab, therefore making my efforts fruitless.
this isn't meant to be depressing...just realistic. there's nothing wrong with being fucked up and numb all the time. the brainwashing should be stifled before intervention, jesus, bible-beaters and doctors screw it up for everyone.

is it so?

i am back...i think. i can't really decide. but yeah...i think i am.

say it with me...HALLELUJAH

i feel so much joy i can't even express how happy i am right now. i have a renewed faith in my country. mccain's speech was incredibly respectable. i just sat on the phone with my mom and we both cried like retards. random people in the streets are screaming for obama and cars are going by w/ horns blowing. i hope that this election will make people who were swayed by race take a second look at how ignorant that is, and i hope that EVERYONE will realize that HELPING YOUR FELLOW MAN, RESPECTING THE RIGHTS OF OTHERS, AND BEING AN ACTIVE MEMBER OF SOCIETY are ideals that THE MAJORITY of the country was willing to vote for.

for fuck's sake

i am tired of hearing about it all. i am tired of seeing palin and her fucked up face and i want nov 5th to be today. and hopefully, next week, i will not be making plans to move to a foreign country.

i voted saturday, and i wish i could vote a million more times.

steroids

i got a shot of them in my hip. it's stinging. other than that i am about to go vote FOR OBAMA then come back and lay my non-breathing ass on the couch and watch tons of stupid movies.

i pissed my pants in newark, nj the other day. it was hilarious. more to come on that later.

it's cold and i could not be happier about that.

dementia?

this morning i went into my roommate’s room and was talking to him about the shirt i was wearing (because that’s really what he wants to be bothered with first thing when he wakes up). and it’s actually just a men’s t-shirt from old navy, nothing interesting. anyways, i was standing by his dresser and when i walked out of his room i realized that i was carrying a pack of smokes…then i realized that i took them off his dresser. i walked back into his room and was like, why the hell did i just take your cigarettes? so then i was like…god, i must be a clepto. 10 minutes later i was looking for my stridex pads. yes, i said stridex pads. no, i am not 15. no, i do not have acne. yes, stridex pads are a very fast and effective way to keep your face cleansed. it’s like pouring acid into your pores…sending blackheads on their way before they ever get a chance to claim your face as their new found land. so usually the stridex pads are sitting right next to my face lotion. they weren’t there. i checked EVERYWHERE they could possibly be. i was like, see…this is why i always think i am going crazy because shit just disappears! when i had finally accepted the loss, jarrett comes into the bathroom and was like, “these were on my dresser and they are not mine”…he was carrying my stridex pads. so at least i know now that i am not a clepto. but why didn’t i remember even carrying them into his room. and why did my brain tell me to pick up the pack of smokes rather than the stridex pads. and why when i picked up the smokes and then returned them did my brain not alert me-“BROOKE…YOU SAT SOMETHING DOWN ON THE DRESSER, IT WAS YOUR STRIDEX PADS…GET THEM”.

okay…so i wish this is where the morning mishaps ended. i was walking to my car to leave for work and i thought to myself…what day is it? why the hell do i have on flip flops? i have worked at this place for 2.5 years and we have never been able to wear flip flops…but there i was with the piggies hanging out. it was probably a good thing because when i went back inside i realized that i had, once again, left my netflix movies on the coffee table. i am seriously retarded. i hope i die before getting old because this shit is seriously for the birds.

this is the kind of shit they should tell people in D.A.R.E. rather than making kids fear death (which is usually impossible because how can you fear something that you don’t think you are susceptible to?) they should just warn what holes in the brain can do to a person. this is your brain…this is your brain on drugs. whoa. i don’t know about you, but i would prefer my eggs cooked.

I fucking hate leather purses. There is no reason for a cow's skin to be used for the purpose of carrying around tampons and a cell phone. And what is w/ all the shiny shit? Sex and the city is finally off the air. Can we finally stop trying to emulate the disgusting trends of a hopeless romantic waif who struts the streets of nyc in search of a husband and an appletini?

bye bye bowden

oh...finally...FINALLY he has coached his last game at clemson.

why is hanna playing with my emotions?

that little bitch has dwindled down to nothingness. she is no longer packing a punch and that is such a let down. i want some excitement in the form of hurricane chaos. and she is not worthy of a name...let's just call her what she is...RAIN.

palin

i found this very interesting. go read it.

and while on the topic of an unfit VP...this shit is hilarious.