8 am Dance Party

I have finally managed to get my sleep cycle back to something resembling normal after pulling an all nighter last week in a vain attempt to finish a paper. Now that I wake-up in the morning, as opposed to the evening, I find that there is not much to do. The sun has still not risen enough to avoid dying from the cold, and the television stations seem to have something against playing anything interesting at the start of the day. Today I decided to take matters into my own hands. I searched through my extensive cd collection and began to make a mix cd, but not just any mix cd - a dance party mix cd. Actually, there is nothing spectacular about my dance party mix cd, except that the songs I have carefully placed on it are ones that inspire my to shake my ass (or at least what ass I can find to shake) and sing out loud. I am a great dancer... alone in my room. When you dance in front of other people there is a certain need for silly notions like "finding the beat", and "not looking like you're having a seizure"; alone, in your room, anything is game. The possibilities are endless.. Or at least they are endless until one of your roommates opens the door and sees you flailing around in your underwear.
"Are you okay?" They will ask. "You look like you are possessed."
"I am possessed..." You will answer, "Possessed by the rhythm.. I am a slave to it, and all that." You will then proceed to do your best impression of a blind, deaf man who has been given a combination of cocaine, sugar, and hallucinogens... Your dancing is out of this world, and no one can deny that.

It is my birthday

It is my birthday, so I took the garbage out... Because it is also garbage day.

Missed opportunity

I can't sleep. I have been trying to sleep for roughly seven hours, and yet sleep evades me. Instead I have found myself cleaning. I have cleaned things that I have been putting off cleaning since September. I have cleaned ovens, microwaves, showers, and toilets. I have gotten down on my hands and knees and scrubbed the grout in between each kitchen tile with such enthusiasm that it is now white (when the natural colour of is actually grey).
If only I had a video camera... I could have filmed the first installment of my non-pornographic porn called "College Girls Get Clean!" That way I also could have ordered some pizza; every pornographic film, even when it is a non-pornographic porn, needs a pizza delivery man. In this case, the pizza delivery man would come to the door and say "Where do you want me to put it?" And then I would say "Ooooh, it looks big. Why don't you put it right there.. On the kitchen table." This is when the pizza man would say "Be careful.. It's hot." The next ten minutes of the video would just be me eating some pizza, and eventually I would "accidentally" drop a slice and then start to clean up the mess.

Note to self:

Remember not to start to fill the sink and then walk away...

Dancing Machine!

When you find yourself alone in your house, your roommates having abandoned you for one place or another, strip off your clothes and dance around your living room in your underwear; playing your music much louder than you've allowed yourself in the past.
Boogie down! Practice dance moves that you haven't performed in forever, and then try ones that you'd never dreamed of doing - not even in your most inebriated "I-am-such-a-great-dancer-why-did-I-not-realize-I-could-dance-this-
well-before-I-did-those-five-shots-of-tequila?" state. All these moves you will do, without a care in the world.. Not a single care in the world.. That is.. Until you look into your backyard and realize that one of your creepy neighbours is standing there watching you.
"Why the fuck is he standing in my backyard?" you will ask yourself. Then you will shake your head and remember where you are, and how in this city you are not limited to elderly British gentlemen who like to watch you in a near-nude state. In this city the rules are different, and people don't just stay in their own yards to watch you.. They just walk right into yours.

Best Friends

Apparently my animals have started sleeping together. They claim that it's just because it's starting to get cold outside and the shared body heat makes the long nights easier, but I'm on to them.

Purify this

I bought an air purifier today because every morning I wake up feeling like I am dying, and I can only assume this is either because of a)communists, or b)gross stuff in the air that I am breathing while asleep. Obviously it is probably the communists doing it, but why not try to improve the quality of air being filtered through my room?
So now I have this machine going, a machine that claims it is "relatively noise free" (apparently "noise free" is open to interpretation.. I guess it's the "relatively" part that should have clued me in), and it is blowing me that much closer to waking-up feeling great.

But is it morally wrong?

Sometimes, like now, when my nose is runny... I use my cat as a substitute Kleenex.. Not always intentionally, sometimes it just kind of happens. My nose is running, he is trying to rub up against my face.. BOOM.. No more runny nose. I really don't think he minds it... I mean.. Considering I pay for his food and make sure he has a clean, non-smelly place to take a dump.. It's really the least he can do for me.

Also, evidently this is going to be a day where I write posts every five seconds.. Probably due to a combination of lack of sleep, cold medication, dizziness, and boredom. Bear with me..

Dude.........

I totally just burped for, like, 40 seconds straight..

Under the bridge downtown

Let me tell you about a bridge that is located near my parents house. It is a bridge, much like any other bridge, that allows the road to cross over a valley (and train track) without any trouble at all... But there is a darker side to this bridge.. A darker side that involves men having sex with other men for money.
And today, internet, I saw a man closely resembling George Michaels returning from what I can only assume was a gay romp under the bridge.
At first I did not believe that anyone, let alone gay men, would have sex any where near this bridge.. It is a bridge.. A gross bridge, and it is right near a smelly bay... I, personally, do not enjoy the smell of fish during sex (insert your own dirty snatch jokes here). Anyway, I did not actually believe, at first, that any such thing went on under that bridge.. But then I spoke to a man who worked for a place that I will refer to as the "RBG" (I'm referring to it as that because that is its actual name), and he told me that they find all sorts of condoms and gross mattresses under the bridge all the time. But his testimony only really convinced me that people have sex under the bridge, not that there is some sort of gay prostitution ring being run down there. My opinion changed once I saw a little piece on the local news showing the police busting up the gay prostitution ring (run from under the bridge).
As it turns out, police busting up the party did nothing to deter these male hookers...... I admire their dedication, but only to a degree. The prostitution ring is still going on, and I have yet to be able to convince any of my male friends to go down under the bridge and see what really goes on.
Anyway, each time I drive over the bridge, I wonder what the male prostitutes are doing right at that very moment... Most of the time I can take a guess.. But I'm sure sometimes they'd surprise me.

Self explanatory (almost)

Let's just say that, if you are my dog, you should pray to god that I don't go to the pet store and see outfits for pets that I think are so silly (and cheap) that I have to buy them and dress you in them for my own amusement.
Dogs are so silly... They should learn not to sit still (or trust me at all) for me because otherwise I feel compelled to make them look funny.

Something that I've been thinking about for ages

What happened to Whoopi Goldberg's eyebrows? There is a spot there where I know they should be, and yet they are not... I've literally been thinking about this, on and off again, for years... Which also goes to show that I, clearly, have too much time on my hands. Who spends years thinking about Whoopi Goldberg's eyebrows, or lack there of?
Anyway, I just wanted to get that off my chest...

Born to screw

I built a fence today, while hungover no less. The fence was required to keep my suicidal dog away from the road. It's not finished yet, of course (I had a really busy day), but it will be tomorrow.
Let me just tell you one thing.
I screw amazingly well. If they gave out medals in screwing, I would have one. If there is one thing I would like people to remember about me, it would be that I loved to screw. I put all of my heart and soul into screwing, and once I was finished I was sweaty, dirty, and had no idea how much time had passed. My dad even took note of this.
"Wow, you really like to screw." He said, "And you're pretty good at it, too."
"What can I say?" I responded, "I was born to screw."
I often talk to people about screwing, and my love for it. I tell them how I want people to hear my name in passing and say, "Oh, you mean Megan? Jesus Christ, she could screw. She would screw all day and night if she were able. If I was looking to screw.. I'd want it to be Megan with me."
I used a few two inch screws today as well. You know what they say... There's nothing like a good long screw.
It's true. It really is.

Still hungover

Refer to post title

Satin vs. Satin

For a long time now I have had this plan to buy satin sheets, and attempt to slide across the aforementioned sheets while wearing a pair of satin pajamas.
A few days ago I finally bought satin sheets.
Now all I need is someone with a stop watch. A stop watch is required because this is a very scientific experiment, the results of which will more than likely end in some sort of scientific break through.