just stuff

Have you ever had this like pent up aggression where instead of feeling like you need to beat the shit out of a bag (or a person), you just want to vent and write? I get that sometimes. I was feeling pretty well...grr...earlier today. And good ol' Danielle got me through it via texts while I was working my ass off in the gym (another day, another blog). But there's still stuff I need to get out. Most likely will not make sense to you, but that's ok.


Every week, I forget about that guy on American Idol. I can't even remember his name or what he sang this week, but I like him. And I always forget. Maybe he got voted off last night? I dunno, because it's still on my tivo.

I hate writing letters because I never know what to say. And I hate the fact that my hand starts to cramp after writing half of a paragraph. I'm not a writer. I'm a typer.


I avoid calling my dad for reasons similar to the above statement. I never know what to say. And I don't want him to think that he's an obligation to me.

I got selected to do the Nike Run Like a Girl Half Marathon again. This time I'm going balls to the wall. I even bought the Nike sensor for my iPod Touch. So far this week, I have logged in 21.20 miles, or 34.13 kilometers since Monday, March 24rd. Crazy right? (OK, so I guess the "another day, another blog" thing was today and this blog).

I have a gamer tag or whatever it's called on the PS3, but no games to play.

One of the episodes of Nip/Tuck that I watched last night reinforced a fear that I've always had in the back of my mind.

My Wii Fit made my Mii fat. So fuck the Wii Fit.

There is stuff that I've been pondering over the last week.
*On MySpace, I did a survey this week, and one of the questions was, "Have you ever been the other woman?" And that got me to thinking, what exactly is the other woman? Are you only the other woman if you know the man you're involved with is married? What if you don't know that he's married? Does that still make you the other woman? What if you have a bond with this man so deeply, and it's mutual, does it make you the other woman? Or does it make the wife the other woman?
*How many face lifts has Smokey Robinson had? I think he'd be a good patient at McNamara/Troy.
*What is my obsession with competition? Why do I always get overly caught up in it?
*It's crazy that I make more on unemployment than some people with jobs do.
*When money is given to a loved one, is it truly given? Or is there an underlying IDon'tEvenKnowWhatTheWordIsI'mLookingForHere thing where...well, you know. Are you expected to give up your first born? Or what?
*Why, if I eat just one hamburger after a week of working out and eating healthy, do I automatically put back on the weight that I lost the week before?
*How do you find the right pair of shoes to walk/run in? I have blisters from hell. Is it the shoes, or am I that bad at walking?
*Why does it seem like no one is doing anything about what's going on in Mexico? My very good friend was kidnapped there last month. He got out ok, thank God (Allah, Xenu, Buddah, whatever). Get those fuckers already! It's happening, but it's not happening fast enough.
*Is death not a big enough issue to be deemed worthy of a phone call?
*Since when did being in the 5th grade turn into an episode of 90210 that should instead be called 94538?

These dishes don't put themselves away.
Neither does the laundry.


Thanks for letting me get some of the stuff out. I'm gonna go watch American Idol now.

Oh, and one more.

I hate Twitter. I signed up for it 2 or 3 weeks ago. And it consumed my whole day for like 2 days. I hate it. I haven't deleted my account yet though, because I'm nosy and I wanna see what Rihanna is up to today. So this morning, I spent like 45 minutes on it, when I should have been getting ready to go see my mom and sister. But I didn't. I totally pissed all the time away looking at who follows who on Twitter. I hate it. Sometimes I go days without going on there and I don't care if I don't update my status. Then sometimes, I feel the urge to go there and tell people that I'm doing shit, that honestly, no one cares about anyway. I hate Twitter. But I'm sure I won't be deleting my account anytime soon.

fin.