It's the end...and I feel fine.

Ok, I know that people hate to hear about other people's dreams. In my defense, other people's dreams are about like bunnies that talk and smoke and then turn into your mom. Random and boring. If I dont get this one down, and if at least one person doesn't read it, my head'll explode.

It was the end of the world. The government told us it was the end, we had like 10 days. It all played out like that scene in Titanic where the band is playing up on the deck and they just flash scenes of couples and families huddling together, waiting to die. Thats what we were all doing. We were all (every family everywhere) frantically rushing around to visit with each other before the end. We were wondering if it all would just stop, and go blank, and we'd be no more, or if we'd all drop dead, or die slowly. The worst part was that there was a scene in this dream where a man had a knife and said the animlas were dying slow painful deaths, so he had to kill them quickly. I handed him Nash and ran away. I wanted to remember him alive and not see anymore. As we came to the last days, there was no background noise. There were no screams. There was absolute silence. Everyone was eating with their families and preparing. I remember seeing my family, my cousins, baby cousins. People were getting fresh haircuts and their nails done and buying all sorts of stuff to eat for these big "last feasts" with each other.

Then I was talking to DJ and noticed that everyone was spending money. And we figured out that, supposedly, the last day of Earth would be April 15...tax day. So, everyone had all this extra money and were spending it all because, well, who cares at this point. Then we started to wonder, what if the president (it was Bush, I saw him) was lying about the end of the world? What if he did it to get people to spend money and put it all into the economy? We started to doubt that it would all end that day. We figured when it all kept going that he'd get on TV and say "I guess it will go on! Hooray!" and no one would be upset about spending all their money because of the sadness and impending doom they had faced. They would be thankful. His tricky little way of getting our money...
I woke up in a panic and dont know what happened.

****Real life****
I guess you could say I worry about the state of our country right now.

The King of (Soda) Pop

At one time he was a legend. He was on top of the World, no one even close to knocking him out of the spotlight. And now? Well, lets not get into now. For, whatever your opinion is on Michael Jackson, it doesnt matter right now. Right now we are discussing the legend, circa 1986 when he was the biggest thing on the planet. No, srsly, the BIGGEST. It went 1.God, 2.Michael Jackson, 3.Coca-Cola, 4.the rest of the world. Trust me, I was part of his adoring fans who thought he was the best thing to come along, since, well, me I guess (we all love ourselves at that age, right? It isnt til puberty that we loathe our existence).
This blog was prompted by my receiving all of the MJ CDs form the Seattle public library. I have put them all onto my iPod at this point and I couldnt be happier. Yes, I could sing them to myself from memory, but my voice is far too low to sound authentic. On our way back from a trip to the Hellish Everett Mall (dont ask), we put on the Thriller album. It got me thinking: when else has anyone ever made such a scary song? A song that sent chills, especially if you learned it when you were young. Donia still hates the Vincent Price laughter at the end. She actually asks me to turn it off! (I dont, of course, cuz its fun to watch her squirm). There is no other song like Thriller. Rap may try to scare you with threats of gang violence, but we aint scurrred. Marilyn Manson and his emo buddies may try to frighten you with makeup and fake blood and talks of worshipping the devil, but, come on now! Satan = not scary. That stuff is shit compared to Thriller! It's a cult classic-literally!-and will go on forever as one of the most successful songs of all time. As will MJ go down [insert pedophile joke here] as the most successful artist, behind Elvis? Maybe even ahead of him...
Listening to MJ brings me back to a time in childhood when my jobs in life were to:
1. Go to school and pretend I didnt like Michael Jackson (Christian/Crazy school)
2. Play Barbie's with Audrey on the weekends
3. Listen to NKOTB, et.al.
4. Eat Little Debbie snacks.
5. Not swear
6. Build forts in the woods, play manhunt, and be sure to check in when the streetlights went on.

those were the days...

This has inspired my Top 10 Favorite MJ Songs Of All Time, according to Leah:

10. Who Is It?

Despite lots of people hating the Dangerous album, I loved it. Off The Wall and Thriller were a bit before my time, but once I loved MJ, thats when Bad and Dangerous came out. Those were my favs by far! So this song is just cool cuz I love the background beat (which I like to think Michael beat-boxes himself) and the chorus is fun to sing along with.

9. They Dont Care About Us

This is from HIStory. Again, HIStory wasnt the highest acclaimed album, but I made sure I planned ahead, booked my mom and the car, and was off to the store to buy that tape the day it came out. I saved my money up. I waited months! It was the most excited Id been about an album release up to that time. I was so proud that I got a version (which was later edited)of the album that had the words "Kike Me" in this song. I didnt know what it meant, and when I did I didnt think it was very nice, but I had it and I felt special Id squeezed in my purchase before the recall by the FCC, or whoever it was that ordered the phrase to be banished. When I recently got the CD fromt he library and put it on the computer, I listened for the famous line, but it was a mess of 'kkshkshkkk' and gurgling sounds. Ill always know the truth, though...

8. Black or White

The special video, which they showed in between 2 sitcoms on prime time tv, was fantasic. Who didnt love Macauley and Michael being friends (until later, of course)? This song is happy and gleeful and promotes love for all. As do I. And then, remember the ending when Michael destroyed the car (for what reason? Anger? Michael? Couldnt be!)? All the viewers were offended and appalled at the violence. Fast forward 15 years, bet theyre wishing people would just smash cars on TV still. That was nothin.

7. Jam

People used to make fun of me (and may still) for loving Jam. So silly, Michael J and Michael J, one on one, it wasnt believable, and kinda corny. I agree. But the song---fantastic! So entertaining to me, forget the video! It aint too much to Jam...doodoodoodoo....it aint to much for me just JAM! Who the fuck knows what MJ was Jammin to. And who the fuck cares.

6. Say, Say, Say

I can see this video in my head, something about Michael and Paul McCartney and a carnival and a fire. I just loved the song though, and I had no idea Paul had been a Beatle when I first heard it. Just Michael's less famous singing friend. :) (I was young).

5. Scream

I was much older when this came out (14?) but not a bit less excited than I was the day I got my Michael Jackson T-shirt as a child. It was green....reallly green...and had an iron on of him in concert singing. I wore it all the time, til the iron on was wearing off. Scream had the best video, and me and my cousins (yep, only got three, and one wasnt born yet, so you figure out who they were) got the single, went into the back yard with our boombox and side ponytails, and learned the dance. We practiced for hours. I was 14, yes, but not having had sex yet, I was still dancing with my cousins. Some parts were too hard for us, we werent trained professionals like Michael and Janet, so we modified those moves and pressed on. Still, everytime I hear it I remember a few parts and wanna perform for the nearest crowd.

4. Man In The Mirror

Another good-hearted and touching [insert jokes...]song by MJ. Gonna make a change. We need to re-release this song to the world. However bad stuff was back then, its gotta be worse now. Or maybe we should just send a copy to George W. instead. I remember seeing the girls that would pass out at his concerts and be carried away looking like limp rag dolls. I remember this song moving people to rag doll status repeatedly.

3. Remember the Time

I think it was the dancing in this song that got me hooked. So much about Michael was his videos. Yeah, the songs were great, but then to see them as a story and dance routine made them that much better! This is still my favorite dance video of his, but one that was too hard for me to learn in the yard (so sad!).

2. Dirty Diana

Were coming up to the Top 2 songs that I love. They have lots in common, and one is that me and DJ loved them both the most. We had no idea why Diana was "Dirty" or what the song meant, but it was so hardcore for Michael and we latched right on to it! The video was great with his hair and button down white shirt blowing in the wind (machines). Learning what it was actually about later in life made it all the more edgy and cool.

1. Smooth Criminal

Hands down favorite MJ song ever. There was a period of my childhood when DJ and I would get to rent movies every weekend. For a while there, we came upon "Moonwalker", and from then on (could have been months, who knows) we'd keep renting Moonwalker and watching it over and over all weekend. We. Loved. It. And of course, if youve seen it, you know that this song has a huge part in the movie. A huge COOL part in the movie. Its a must-see if you love MJ, and still have a VCR...its only on VHS:( My only wish for the upcoming generation is that they know that Alien Ant Farm was not the original artist to record this song.
Another wish, that will never be granted, is that future generations know MJ for what he was, not what he is now.

There are rumors that the sugar-daddy who helped Michael save the Neverland Ranch may make him pay it back in concert performances. In Vegas. Like Celine or Cher.
I.Am.There.

Is it bliss, or just the muffins?

Donia makes fantastic muffins. I thoroughly enjoy trying to get her to put all different ingredients into muffins now. I dont eat all of them, but theyre sure fun to create...

Muffins have nothing to do with my post, really. Donia and I have been together for 365 days today. You must be thinking, "Well, that's a year today!" but I say, "No, it's a leap year". So, tomorrow is the actual date we got together, technically 366 days ago. I guess I'm just posting this cuz I'm happy and proud of us and inherently grateful to her for being the person she is. Such a well-rounded, kind, caring, and PATIENT individual with the same ideals about life and it's importance and meaning as I do. Plus, we get along smashingly! Ive never had so much fun with someone as I do with her. We have a lot of respect and admiration for each other, which has never waivered, no matter what we've gone through. It's been a trying year, and I'm sure there are more hard times ahead. I'd just like to say that she's wonderful and I'm very happy we've had this last year together. Here's to many more...

I know not everyone in my life agrees with our relationship, but it is real and we are doing very well. On my own personal level, I just don't understand how you can love someone so much and it be wrong. This is not to spark a debate over my blog. It is simply to say that I'm very happy, and though some don't think I should be happy by way of this relationship, I just want it to be accepted for what it is. I'm not out to change the world, or anyone's individual beliefs. Our relationship is not invisible or less than anyone else's. We are not a waste of two human beings. How is it that two good people can be together but be doomed? I don't understand it, or have all the answers myself. Just know we love each other and respect each other like any other couple. It is all you could ask for in life...

It was no George Clooney ER...

It was a dark and stormy night. The wind was blowing and the sky was a frightening shade of grey...

No, seriously, this is Seattle, it really was!

So last night Donia and I were just chillin at the crib, havin a raspberry iced tea, watching a little local news. I, as usual, was trolling the internet and Donia, as usual, was in the kitchen. She was putting some dishes away and, being the small fry that she is, reaching on her tippy toes to get stuff on the top shelves. I heard a crash and a grunt and giggled as I asked, "Are you ok?" She answered with, "Yeah, Im fine. If I was hurt you wouldn't hear anything, I'm usually quiet at first if I'm hurt." "Not me", I said, "Id be screamin!"

Fast forward 10 MINUTES. I hear another crash and immediately a scream. I throw the computer on the table as she's saying "Oh God, baby, I hurt myself. Oh no, I cut myself!" I knew she was serious this time and not just playing off of our convo from earlier. I jump up and run to the scene of the accident: I see the vegetable slicer, with its large blade, on the floor, and her keeled over holding her hand, blood on the paper towel she'd grabbed. Fuck. Im frantically like, "Are you ok, are you ok!? Oh God look at it, are you ok?" She gets upset for a sec and says," I don't know, ok..." and as she looks down she panics and says "Oh God, I need stitches". She insists I look at the wound, too, but I'm already shaking and afraid of seeing the blood, never mind a gaping cut. Now, we are set into action and I immediately go into panic mode (I suck at this stuff!)

I run around like a crazy girl in search for shoes, purses, a towel for the wound, and her wallet. She is just silent and calm, holding her hand tight. We run out the door and luckily, thank God, we live directly across the street from the hospital. We run up and down blocks following signs for the ER. We walk in and, well, they take their sweet ass time even asking us why were there. I'm so out of breath, and the girl doesn't even bat an eye! I tell them, "She cut herself" and she says"...ok. Has she been here before?" Not, "how badly" or "let us see", just "Do you have her insurance card?" There was just no sense of urgency in this girls bones! I was wondering if Id walked in with half my face hanging off if she'd have made me dig through my wallet for identification and confirmed my address before even taking me in! Needless to say, she sucked. No one saw the wound, and we are told to go sit down. Its 10 minutes before anyone even stirs, and so I say, "Show them you're bleeding through the tissue, tell them its not a minor cut!" As she stumbles over to the counter, again, being ignored, a woman calls out her name. This woman must have been the triage nurse. She gets Donia's info, does her vitals, but can barely help her control the bleeding cuz she has no idea where the supplies are! She has us sit down 5 more minutes before she brings us to the suture room. Or, as I like to think of it, the worst room you can possibly be in. Stitches make my skin crawl, they make me itch just thinking about them. I hate looking at pictures of people with stitches. Like nails on a chalkboard for me. We are in the suture room 20 more minutes before this really cool kid came and did some survey for the hospital, asking about emergency contacts, religious preference (yikes! in case of death??), and demographic info. Finally, after another 25 minutes or so, the "Physicians Assistant" named Tom comes in to sew her up. He's dry and corny, but funny. Typical hospital worker trying to put a patient at ease. He looked like Dr Drew, which was fun for me. He threw the packaging of the supplies he used all over the counter, like a mad scientist. He even had some playful banter with a nurses aid named "Jojo" to keep us entertained. All in all, I sat at the other side if the bed and held Donia's hand while he gave her shots, cleaned blood, and stitched away. My head was turned to the wall, and yes, Tom, this is how I would like to stay.

She was very brave and I'm impressed by her. I would have been a stupid mess over nothing, but she keeps things in perspective so well. When asked on a scale of 1-10 how bad her pain was, she said 5. Later she told me, "Well, I couldn't say 10. 10 is like having a baby. Nina was a 10. I cant say I'm that bad". Ha! I would have answered 11 if it was me. Such a tough little champ, if she enjoyed sweets and girly toys Id have taken her out for ice cream and bought her a Barbie doll for her bravery. Thats what always got me through...
So now shes loopy and hurting and I have to take care of her. And by that I mean change her dressing, wrap it before her shower, and do all the dishes for the week, the latter being the most devastating one. I love her, but I don't love dishes. Oh, listen to me, going on and on about how I'm suffering through this injury...

*Wait, its my blog. I can do what I want. Ok, back to me...*

So, I insist on waiting on her hand and foot, and it's not even really that bad of an injury (so she says). I guess its just what you do for someone when you love them. *And when you anticipate you may need some waiting on someday and you wanna be able to pull the "remember-that-stitches-time" card...*

So, in case you were wondering, the exact story of how this happened was that she was going to make coffee and as she reached for a filter, the veggie slicer she'd put haphazardly on the top shelf came crashing down. She instinctively went to catch it, or at least stop it from falling, and it came straight down, Guillotine style on her finger. Sliced right into her. Had it been any sharper she may have lost some of her finger, I'm guessing. Also, had it not been made in 1954, and had we not just bought it 6 days ago, this crisis may have been averted. Oh well, live and learn. Lesson 1: Leah puts dishes away on the top shelves. Lesson 2: Maybe items that contain open and sharp blades/daggers should be put on lower shelves.

Quote of the night: Right before going to sleep, Donia utters, "I hate my mortal body". (As opposed to her IMmortal body? Yeah, interpret that as you will, it was way too New Testament/Sci-Fi Channel for me at that late hour.)

Were just thankful it didn't fall on her face or head, and that her battle scar will be mini.

oh, and it got us a three day weekend...

No I dont want a free fucking credit card, I just want my dignity back!!!!!!

As someone who's worked in the business...of selling, that is...I know the ins and outs of "special offers" that actually can screw you instead of aide. "Good deals" are not always good. "Free" is never free. But alas, we are told by our managers to "upsell". If you suggest something to someone, they are more likely to buy it. Yes, I have seen this executed and actually work, but I was not a good salesperson. I knew the person didnt want to hear my overly rehearsed spiel about how great the Margaritas were (but not the cheap ones, the over-priced ones.) The bigger salad is better (but not better for you). A Gift Card would make a great gift! Blah blah blah, I couldnt stand there with a straight face while the guests were just wishing Id go away and leave them to their steaks. I sucked.

Fast forward to yesterday when I realized just how bad consumerism has gotten. Businesses want your money, bottom line. They dont care about you, they certainly dont care about your finances or bills. They are hoping you are dumb enough to have credit and use it frivolously. If you dont...well, theyre the first ones to offer you a special card that will help you pay for the things you dont really need. Case in point: Donia and I visited the mall yesterday. We had an errand to run there, one single transaction that would have taken 5 minutes. Neither of us could stand the thought of sitting in 40 minutes of traffic just to reach our destination, walk in, and walk out minutes later. We decided to walk around the Northgate Mall a bit and browse for summer clothes. We passed many stores before we came upon the first one that caught our eye-Victoria's Secret. Now, I know this sounds R-rated, but really, all Donia does is rave about their bras. She uses the word "quality" a lot when referring to them, so I know she means business. She wants things to last until the end of time. She wants the world to be coming to an end and still be able to use the toaster she bought 80 years prior and turn on the TV thats older than dirt. She believes in forever...with allll things. Im not much of a Victoria's Secret girl, Im fine with whatever I find wherever. All my girl friends have tried to make me feel bad or incompetent because of this. How could you not buy all of your undergarments from VS!!?? Its a sin! I always thought, 'How is it that this Victoria has monopolized everyone's boobs'? How did this happen that she owns everyones privates and only losers dont go there to outfit their naked bodies? Whoever she is, shes smart I tell ya, cuz every girl past the age of 13 has it ingrained in their heads that their breasts and asses will suffer terrible deformities, rashes and look awfully disfigured if they are not fitted into a super-expensive garment from VS. Why is this? Cuz their moms think the same twisted thing...
We enter VS and Donia immediately takes me to the supportive, quality bras. Black. White. Tan. This is what supportive looks like. Ok, fine, I think. My bras are old and I could use a new one or two. She immediately finds the sale (thats my girl!) that was posted on a sign out front. Jesus, depending on how big your girls are, you could pay up to 70 bucks for one of these suckers! She finds the 2 for $40 rack (no pun intended) and tells me "These are good". Ok, oh sacred guru of bras, lets get crackin. I find my size (which I will not disclose, thank you very much) and we head to the dressing room. Now comes the scariest part of all...the...salesgirl! The evil evil salesgirl thats so bubbly and happy to be alive in this glittery pink store that she almost explodes! She asks us if we found everyhting, if we had trouble, if we need help, if we are satisfied, if we wanna try them on, if we like them, and if theres anything else she can do just BUZZ her from the room and she'll fetch other sizes! She should have asked if well needed therapy after this session cuz I know I will. I now have PTSD from the horrific experience.
Jesus, I just entered high class shit here. I thought only Oprah was treated like this but no, the little people get it too. Only at VS, of course.
We answer "yes" to the trying on question, and she attempts to open ONE dressing room door. Does she thinks were friends that cant possibly want to not model our bras for each other, to want to critique each and every inch of them, to only know if we should buy them through the advice of the other? We werent holding hands or anything, so she wouldnt know we were together. Who knows what it was she was thinking, but I had to intervene. "Um, excuse me, ma'am. Hi, um, you see, as much as we love each other and have no secrets between us, etc.etc., we are indeed like all other women and would like to try our bras on ALONE. In different dressing rooms. Yeah, thanks, youre great. Oh, nope, thanks, Im fine, I can apply a bra to myself without hurting myself or screwing it up. Yep, Im good like that. What? Buzz? Yeah, sure, Ill buzz you..." Youre goddamn right I didnt buzz her! Fuck that, I can find new sizes. I dont need to stand there topless while she flits about the store looking for the perfect bra for me. Its just not right. Im a big girl and I can put my shirt on and leave the room and find the bra and return to the room and try it on and you know what? Ill not even think twice about those precious moments I made my feet take 50 steps to do it. Ill live the life of the less priveledged if this is what it entails.
Through my door I hear Donia emerge from her room and she's bombarded. "Howd they feel/look/snap/hold? Do you like/love/want/need to have it? Can I get you matching panties/underwear/thongs/robes/perfume/leggings? No? So just the bra? And it fit? Wow". I come out seconds later and before I can be swarmed by the Fairy Bra-girl, I grab Donia and we have a private pow-wow (which Im sure someone had to be taping and playing back somewhere at a faraway VS headquarters). I ask her if it was weird here and here and did it stick out a bit here and yes oh good cuz it did on me...and then here she comes. Salesgirl. Evil in the form of a tanned Prom-Queen wannabe.
Sometimes in life we make mistakes. Some are small; others, well, they can be quite devastating, leaving our life and everything we knew and loved in shambles. My mistake: telling her of my bra concerns. She immediatley looks at me like I just lost a loved one. Such despair and disappointment, such deep sympathy for what Im going through. She offers to get me a new size. New size, mind you, this is what she says. Well, shes a fucking lying fairy salesgirl with the remorse of serial killer and the heart of Satan. I put all of my trust in this girl and what does she do? She reaches into my chest and pulls my heart right thru it...past the boobs she claims to live to help! She stomps it on the floor and then spits on it, all the while glittering and smelling so lovely of the VS scent of the month. This sales girl tricked me, and I will never forgive her, as long as I live. As long as my boobs stay North and can be tamed by a normal everyday store-bought bra, I will hold this grudge. Her indiscretion: she came back with not the bra that I wanted, but a different bra that she thought would suit me better! As if she knows me! As if she knows my struggles in life! As if she took on my soul at that moment and knew what was best for my chest! Pssshhh. You dont know me or my body parts, little girl. You bring me back a hot pink soft fluffy piece of crap like this!? Shove it up your VS-clad ass!

I pretend to try the bras on, but I now know 3 things: 1. I dont like them and theyre different than the others, 2. She claimed they were "better" cuz they werent on sale like my others, and 3. shes a cheating whore.

I emerge from the room when I hear her go fetch a bra for another girl. I am worn and tired, and I figure this is my only chance to get away unscathed. I peek around the corner, all super-hero spy sleuth-style, and I make a break for the original display of 2 for $40 bras. I can just get my size back and go. 1..2..3...RUN!!!! I am almost there when, fuck! There she is! And she has my original bras in hand! I have the fleeting thought of knocking her out cold with the torso of an underwear manequin and making my way to the register quickly, but I decide against it. Too risky. Ive gotta keep my head about me now. I cant let her win. Where is my sidekick!!!??? Oh God, Donia is gone, Im on my own, Im hungry and scared and praying I make it to tomorrow.
She turns swiftly and sees me out of my designated changing station. "How. were. they?" I hear it as if the world were in slow motion. I try to think fast, Im afraid of her, of what Ill say and how shell reprimand me and send me back to the dressing unit and make me strip and wear the pink bra and scream at me that I do want it and that Im a pussy and that no one'll ever want me if I dont wear it and like it! I answer skittishly, "Um, well, I, um, I guess theyre ok but I, uhhh, I like the first ones I had after all." She stares into my soul, full of disappointment. She wants to slap me and throw the bras at my face, but I can tell shes decided to be more professioanl than that. She sighs and says, "well, ok", and gently flops the bras into my hand. Shes defeated. But really, so am I...

I take them and know my life has been spared this day. I look feverishly around all the different VS rooms for Donia, when I finally see her staring blankly from a designer chair, her pink bag in hand. She is weathered, but not worn. She's made it farther than I have, and I envy her at this moment. She gets up and approaches me, seeing the worry and fright on my face. I tell her "Move, move, dont look back. Just keep walking". I get to the register and have to stand there for 7 minutes waiting. Why is this? Well, first off, all the sales girls are out fetching bras for topless and helpless customers, so only one cashier is available. Secondly, do you know how else they attempt to pamper you? Well, they start by killing 1000s of trees and dying the paper they get from them pink. They then wrap each and every indiviaual undergarment you buy in this paper. As if putting them in a bag touching each other will ruin their reputations, or soil their beauty. Of course, just because this is the shopping day from Hell, the girl in front of me must have gotten a gift card, cuz she bought more undergarments than a person could wear in a lifetime. Do I wanna have kids and fund their college educations? Nah, Im gonna spend that fortune on lingerie. Dumb, dumb girl. While Im sandwiched in between two crystal cases of gloss and perfume and oil and lotion and polish and rouge, I see the salesgirl I offended with my denial of her bra suggestions. She flashes me an evil grin, as if to say, "You think youve won, but I always win, bitch" As if she has the ability to curse my boobs and any other bra that ever touches them. And you know what, Im convinced she just may...

I finally get called over by the girl whose only dream in life is to cash me out and then pose for the VS catalog herself. Thats it. She'll do this and die happy. She is nice as I put my bras up there on the counter, but then, something changes. Like a chameleon she goes from fake tanned to EVEN DARKER fake tanned, and evil. She asks me how Im gonna pay. Ruh-roh, I smell trouble! She asks if Ill be using my VS credit card. As I start to say No....she cuts me off and asks if Id like to. No? Oh, silly her, is it cuz I dont have one? Yes, well, if you sign up you get coupons and discounts and free puppies and happiness and cruises to the Bahamas and everlasting true love and emails telling you about upcoming sales. All the while Im trying to interrupt her and say No Thank You, like a polite consumer, more than I ever got from people, but shes relentless. She doesnt shut up until shes told me everything this little wonder-card can do. I am finally able to squeeze in a 'no thanks' but it means nothing as I hear it leaving my mouth. She knows Im not confident. She knows I have no spine, no support behind my decision. She thinks she can crack me, and she almost can, but just then something rises up inside me and I grab her by her blond weave and pull her fake-lashed eyes close to mine and say "Put the fucking bras in the pretty pink bag, bitch. No! Dont wrap them! Throw them carelessly in! Theyre not newborns, theyre bras! Ok now, let me swipe my plain old BANK CARD and let me on my way!" She is visibly shaken, and I am visibly pleased.
On our way out the lovely sales manager is standing near the exit and flashes us a huge VS smile and says "Have a good day!" These empty words fall upon our ears and we smile back. "You too" we reply, all the while knowing we have single handedly escaped the store with half priced bras, and the blood of once shiny happy sales girls on our hands...

Regrets last a lifetime

Its a lazy Sunday and I am definitely following what the Lord himself would want me to do...being lazy. Reading the paper, sipping coffee, and looking at the world's worst tattoos. Just for fun and games, take a look at these links and say to yourself over and over, "Ill never get tattooed after a night of drinking..."
*serious warning: There are many graphic tattoos. Watch out around the kids. And my mom...*
**note: some are repeats, but keep scrolling, youll see new ones**

www.grupthink.com/topic/index.php5?id=2517&page=1
http://listverse.com/bizarre/top-20-worst-tattoos/
www.theginblog.com/2007/12/15-of-the-absolute-worst-tattoos-ever/
http://next-thing.net/?p=2656
www.litwc.com/2006/10/20/i-love-tattoos-but/