Enjoy my enjoyments. Or else.

Things I thoroughly enjoy:

1. Driving through my neighborhood and coming across those ancient old men who are doing their lawns, when, suddenly, they look up and it's really an ancient old woman.

2. The smell of my car. Thank you, Bath & Body Works car scents. You just don't understand my utter gratitude when opening my car door.

3. The act of slamming the phone and throwing a pen. It seems to be a little relieving at the work place.

4. Florida's snowbirds. They appear every single Winter and hog up every lane on my drive home. You may ask how I get enjoyment out of this. I don't. This is the one thing on my list that really irks me.

5. These Pop Tarts I'm eating. Yum.

6. The buy one-get-one sale that happens almost everyday at Publix. It completes me, and helps with my wallet.

I'm pretty sure that's it for right now. Now I feel a little sick from this Pop Tart. I take back number five. Bring on the Putt Putt!

Please put your seat and tray in the upright position.

Something smells! I think it is possibly the time and how it is going by so quickly. Yes, time travel smells when its put into fast forward. Does anyone else notice this?

Typically, I have a horrible memory and I cannot remember what I did an hour ago, but lately I feel that time is moving so fast that I can remember what I did weeks ago. Example: Today is Friday... but it was JUST Friday!

Am I making sense here?

Time is moving at a very fast rate, and I'm almost antsy to say that I'm scared. There could also be a very logical explanation to all of this madness. This explanation comes in one color, and many shades - Coffee. Maybe I've been drinking too much coffee lately? Are my fingers moving so fast right now that I can't even see them? Is my mind traveling at warp speed? Maybe everyone isn't experiencing this. Maybe... it's only me.

I'm alone!

Neh. The reality of it all is that we're all in a warp zone. I'm no longer going to assume this, I'll just state it. We're flyin' with time, people. Don't forget your fanny pack.

Flames and Creeps.

I'm alive, Blogger!

No one cares.

Either way, I haven't felt very "bloggy" lately. My attempt in finding my pictures throughout the week left me performing an act that was close to 'The Creep Line'. I'm still not sure if I should share the story, because, really, it was creepy. Okay, fine... I know your curiosity has been piqued and there's a possibility, if asked, you may even shimmy for this story.

I was minding my own business and driving on Saturday, attempting to waste time before meeting up with a friend (I have friends!) when I saw this giant cloud of smoke. My initial reaction was "Must be a fire!" Duh. But, the bigger and higher the smoke grew, my inquisitiveness grew. I ended up forgetting about it six seconds later (I'm easily distracted) but, then I heard the sirens from the firetruck and saw the zooming of red go by me. Then... I pulled a U-turn and followed it! I want to say I subconsciously did this, but in all reality, I was just truly bored.... and really nosey. I even reasoned with myself! My thoughts on the matter were - "I never do this, why not?". That's probably what Ozzy said about doing hard drugs for the first time, too. Anyway, what I saw was a burning house and tons of on-lookers. When I made the other U-turn to get myself back to reality, I was then stuck in a massive amount of traffic.

My lesson learned: Do not be creepy and follow firetrucks.

So, that was that. I did end up getting other pictures that I thought were totally random, and I'll end up posting them later. I'm at my schools library right now, kind of wondering why I'm not home on my own computer. I guess this is the only place where I will not be easily distracted by... sorry, just checked my e-mail... anyway, I'll blog my pictures in a bit!

A Beautiful Mess.

I had a bad case of insomnia last night, and this was all due to my thought process. My thoughts never seem to quiet some nights. If my thoughts were voiced, it would most likely come out alien-like or even just a lot of mumbo jumbo (Is that a word?) either way, they still go unheard. Even when they are heard, they're repeated and overly used. I'm just tired.

You are strong but you're needy. Humble but you're greedy. And based on your body language, and shotty cursive I've been reading, your style is quite selective; though your mind is rather reckless, well I guess it just suggests that this is just what happiness is. And what a beautiful mess this is; it's like we're picking up trash in dresses. Well it kind of hurts when the kind of words you write, kind of turn themselves into knives. And don't mind my nerve, you could call it fiction, but I like being submerged in your contradictions dear. 'Cause here we are, here we are. Although you were biased, I love your advice. Your comebacks they're quick, and probably have to do with your insecurities. There's no shame in being crazy. Depending on how you take these words I'm paraphrasing.

- Jason Mraz.

It has become clear that some things are easier said than done.

While some things are easier when never said.

Old Farts.

There should be a mandated law that says when people turn 60, hearing tests are given.

These tests would be infallible. Every person, whose hearing has already taken its toll, would be given a hearing aid.

You may be asking what this prevents.

It prevents people, like myself, from having to deal with old farts over the phone who cannot hear or understand a word that is said. The entire situation began with one phone call...

Me: "Have your son go to the website and e-mail the attorney."

Old fart: "Okay, okay... what is the website?!"

Me: "Roothlawyer.com"

Old fart: "WHAT!?!?!"

Me: "Rooth... L as in Larry, a-w-y-e, R as in red"

Old fart: "SAWYER?!?!?"

Me: "LLLLLAWWWYER."

Old fart: "Okay. What else?"

Me: "DOT COM."

Old fart: "DOM???"

This went on for over six minutes. Six minutes too long. I began a crazed laugh for a second and then quickly reeled myself back in. The ladies at work were trying to gather my reasoning for literally screaming into the phone. MY ears are still ringing.

The moral of the story is: Try not watching your M*A*S*H so loudly. The grand kids visiting need to conserve their hearing for the future, so they are not held responsible for every receptionist driven crazy.

The end.

Bye Bye, Birdie.

When I get a free moment at work, I am usually cruising the web. Typically, I will start with the important things, such as the news or Facebook and then mosey on over to TMZ.com, and I always leave feeling slightly pathetic. Did I really need to know that Amy Winehouse got arrested again? Or that Lindsay Lohan is back in rehab? However, I do wonder if Amy and Lindsay have ever crossed paths; maybe shared a room in rehab, and if so, what went down?

See, there's the pathetic part.

What I'm really trying to get at is the insightful 'article' I came across yesterday.

TMZ reported: "The handwritten poem -- which is part of the massive Elvis auction going on at gottahaverockandroll.com -- is called "Ode to a Robin," and was sometimes recited by Elvis on stage and at one point was used as the answering machine message at his home."

Hilarious. Am I right or am I right? I know. America now has a slight, detailed look into what was going on inside Elvis' very warped mind. He was more than macabre. There should be a club for morbid poets. Nevermind, I'm sure there is. Given that, I have a strong suggestion for those clubs: officially dub Elvis the Shakespeare to their genre of poetry. It only seems logical. Anyone who can write about a Robin, being heinously murdered on a window sill, has my vote.

At least the bird received a shared moment with 'the king' and his shaky leg before having a window slammed onto its little body. With that, he really ain't nothin' but a bird killer.

Cha-Cha.

I am supposed to be writing a paper. Actually, I have been meaning to write this paper for the past couple of hours. But, I blame one thing and one thing only... and no, it's not myself (that would be nincompoopish). I blame Dancing With the Stars! That's right, you heard me correctly. Hey, at least it wasn't Lost or some horrible, Sci-Fi hit like that. I don't really know what prompted me to seriously sit down, with a bowl of Reese's Puffs, and get sucked into this show. Though, one dancer (the fluffy one) actually made me look away and feel a bit of pity. I think more for the girl dancing with him; she really must feel like she pulled the short stick.

Anyway, I'm not quite sure where they decided to pick these contestants. My guess is they hold a carnival for stars and do a raffle. Just sayin'. Let's take a detailed look at the line up here:

Holly Madison - The girl who was Hugh Hefner's... well, who really knows.
Melissa - The turd who was dumped on national television by another turd! I'm sure they save her for last just to keep the ratings.
Jewel's husband - He's just a cowboy, who is, obviously, only known for being Jewel's jewel!
Another football player - Nice try at being Emmitt Smith.
A cute couple - Boring! All you get are "Awes!"
Steve-O - He was injured tonight, so I only got to watch the rehearsal dance where he was actually injured... that was pretty entertaining, actually.
Shawn Johnson - The cutey patootie who can say "Sorry, guys! Can't go to the movies tonight... I have Dancing With the Stars!"
The Fluffy one - That's all I got.

I don't remember the others? Sure. What I really do know is that my poor mother had to endure my "I could totally do that" moments. My attempts were very depressing and embarassing. I'm sure she's happy I'll be out of the house in a couple of months. Come on taxes!

Well, now I'm bored and looking at Larry, my fish, who is in a desperate need for a bowl cleaning. I'll put that off, too. Also, my random pictures today were quite unsuccessful. I hope tomorrow brings creepiness. We can only hope. Or I can only hope....