Rummaging for answers in the pages.

So. You're looking for something else to read. Something new to entice your eyes with. Something to laugh at. Something to smile at. Something to be disappointed in or be embarassed about. Welcome?

I did something last night that I thought I'd never do in a million years. It involved me, Dave, Karen, Sam and Eric...and a whole lotta lube. Yes, that's right--I drove a stick shift. Except not. I drove it but I didnt want to kill people (mostly us in the car) so I didn't continue. hhhmmm....I got to Karen's place around midnight and everyone was sitting in fucking silence with their hands placed in their laps listening to church hymns and rocking back and forth. I got the party started (what else is new?). Some good ol' M.I.A and those fangled Gravy people made it less religious and we all hung out. Nirvana, of course, is God and that helped. Then the moment of truth: Dave said I could drive his stick. Yup. That's right. I was finally allowed to drive his stick...shift. We all piled in the car and went to the back of the Netherlands. I really don't understand the concept of the stick shift still. I understand the clutch and the break and the different gears but not all of it together. I am not Puerto Rican and/or negro and I dont have that kind of rythym. 6'5" drives the Green Dragon like a Latino dances the salsa. I was like Britney Spears--it was impossible for me not to mess up. I did well at first and then it all crashed and burned (not literally) because Dave eventually shut the interior light off and I couldn't see what gear I was in. Nor did I understand what gear I was in unless he told me. He started doing crazy shit, showing me what gear five and reverse was. I just didn't get it. So, eventually, I got the car rolling and I did a little loop around the parking lot and heading back toward the turnpike, he wanted me to speed up and shift gears. TOO DANGEROUS! Do you blame me? Like forty feet away on the other side of a fence were people walking. What if, by chance, they decided to hop the fence and come running toward me while I was about to go like fifty mph?! I can't handle that kind of pressure. Or what if I lost control of the car, crashed into the fence and killed me (fuck everyone else)? I can't tolerate knowing that I died. The most that I learned from Dave's car: stick with automatic transmission.

My roommates have this notion that 6'5" and I should be fucking eachother's brains out. I came home this morning and they were both nearly passed out drunk in Mernelis' room and the first words from Allie's mouth were, "Did you hook up yet?" I just walked in the room and was like, "Yeah, we totally had sex." She didn't believe me though. I don't understand the fascination with my friends and their interactions with me. It's been an ongoing thing; for the past few days, everytime I come home, that's one of the first things they ask me. *sigh* Sorry to ya'll who hate the asterisks, but they're needed here. Ya'll better bring ya'll books next week, by the way...ya'll.

I talked to Billy today. He called me while I was sleeping at 1pm. I heard my phone vibrating on the radiator and I woke up blurry-eyed and I couldn't read the screen. When I picked up I was all "huh?" and he didn't help by saying "hey" and not much more than that at first. I was confused out of my bloody mind. Then it was clarified whom I was speaking to and then it was shwatevs. It was nice to hear from him though; it's been about four or five weeks since I've heard his voice and that was nice to wake up to...plus he woke me up in general. It was a good idea to be up around then. I had Christmas cards to write out and procrastination to handle as well as beating those rugs outside by the creek and fighting off the stoopid Mongolians. My life is SUCH a struggle.

Have you ever stepped in ice cream before? Do it. Do it. When I say do it, you do it. Do it. (I finally referred to you, Eric).

Uhh...what else? I fucking hate this class. I abhor it. I would cut it up into little pieces and burn it and dump the remains in the dumpster then toss the fucking dumpster in fucking New Jersey and live in Mexico so the cops could never find me. That's how much I hate it. I kinda wish our professor was so exhausted from boarding windows and collecting string that he suffers from temporary amnesia and doesn't make us hand in the paper that's due. Maybe I'll be the one to show up with an eye patch and tell him that the extremely dangerous precipitation from Thursday poked a hole in my eye and I've been in the hospital all weekend...hospital as in hanging out with Dave, Karen and Eric pretty much every night. Fuck, I'm making Dave write my paper for me. It's his fault. ha-ha-ha.

I have decided on a new profession. I want to major in music with a minor in flaming homosexuality so I can make a cover band of Queen. I'd LOVE to be a member of Queen. I figure I'm man-ish enough to count as a man, yet I'm a girl, so that counts as being gay. I can stomp my feet during 'We will Rock You' and snap my fingers during 'Killer Queen' and I can ride a bike plus I'm always under pressure. Random? Yes. Genius? Yes. I want to be the Indian though (def not the construction worker) ;) <--please take that as a joke.

I watched re-runs of The Office last night and it still makes me laugh. Dwight, Jim, Mike and Toby (I think it was Toby) at the sushi place and poor Dwight at the end of the table not able to hear what theyre talking about. And Dwight singing karaoke and Michael listening to James Blunt over and over and Pam and Jim all jealous. Actually, what made me laugh the most was Phyllis. I am most def Phyllis. I'm glad Andrew and Palma made me realize this. It was the Christmas party and when someone was singing karaoke, she was swaying back and forth with her margarita. I'd do that. Hell, who am I kidding? I've done that. Except it was probably something a tad bit more hardcore (shirley temple). I just laughed at that. Laugh bitch! Laugh o' I kill ya!

I'm gonna go saw down some trees for dinner. Don't forget readers: A watched pot never boils.

Q: What happens when you stick you hand in a jar of jellybeans?
A: The black ones steal your watch.