Hear My Plea

And I'll make it short.

WORLD, SEND ME A MAN.

Because the undies I got today (don't side-eye me, y'all, they were free) say "Lucky" on them by happy coincidence and it got me to thinking that I have amassed a rather large collection of oft-mentioned unmentionables and the only thing sadder than no one ever getting to reap the benefits of my lingerie addiction would be something majorly depressing like watching some person who's received the Dementor's Kiss stagger around reliving the worst moments of his/her life.

Whilst wearing Crocs.

Bear with Me, My Mind is a Jungle

Yummy. Pretzels are good. I've been around the world (not) and the best pretzies ever still come in the blue bag at the titian shopping emporium that is CVS.

Left TV Station early, to, apparently, my own detriment. As soon as my ride arrived is when there was actually semblance of an assignment. But I wasn't about to waste all that gas, so I departed. But tomorrow (well, the next time I go back, Wednesday), is a new day. Funny-ish: today a woman was named the new GM of the station and on her tour of the station, she came up behind me while I was on Gawker.com. Oops. Hopefully my non-work wasn't too evident, but I wouldn't be surprised if it was. Because such is my life.

Got into nice, petty little squabbles with various family members almost back-to-back; contemplated over and over the joys of living alone. Had to hide in the basement with a movie and my laptop for solace, along with my beloved pretzels, que claro.

While on the quest for those deliciously salty snacky-snacks, I narrowly avoided a collision in the CVS parking lot. For once a near-accident wasn't my fault! I had to honk my horn, which, even against the rudest of drivers, I never do. It was that serious, y'all.

Question: does Lord Voldemort ever have to go to the bathroom? I can't imagine him thumbing through Entertainment Weekly while, you know, peeing. Oh, wait, boys stand up, don't they? But what about...well, never mind. Also, how come there's never any mention of showering or daily ablutions in the HP septology (pretty sure I made that term up)? Hmm. Golly I love that Ron Weasley.

Over the weekend, I discovered that I suck at all things financial. After buying a (really cute) top and undies from Forever 21, I mentally calculated my expenditures and nearly fell out. I tried to prioritize my purchases, but, um, epic fail. It was supposed to go (in order of importance):

-Clothes
-...shit, I forgot the order already. I guess that's my problem. Well, I know food was at the bottom of the list and makeup, nail polish, and underwear was somewhere in between. But I am weak in the face of pretzels, the shirt was in a truly majestic leopard print, and the undies were on sale for 99 CENTS. What would YOU have done?

My 15 Minutes

I could be famous.

After tonight's award ceremony at which I and others received various recognitions, I decided that being adored agrees with me. With my dad, too, apparently, since people were shaking his hand as much as mine. I had to give a speech, yo. Dad did too, for reasons unknown, but he and I had a blast, working the room and having fun doing it. People couldn't wait to wring my dad's hand, either. He's extremely tall and it was a sports function so I think they mistook him for a former NBA guy, or something (which actually happens a lot). There were also some big journalism names there telling me how proud they were of me, which was awesome.

Some lady came up to my dad and said, "Congratulations, sir, you have a great daughter. And she's just adorable!"

Why yes, lady, I wanted to say, I am damn cute.

But of course, every fun night in high heels has its mini-snag: a guy came over to me with his HOT AND TALL FRIEND in tow, both to congratulate me. I could barely get discernible words out as he complimented me and shook my hand. But where a girl savvier than I would have turned that into a perfect opportunity, my dad had to go all, "Hey [Lucky] come meet such-and-such" on me. Jeez.

That being said, after taking stock of the events of the past few days, I have decided that, yes, I, shy, sometimes wallflowery Lucky, could do famous.

Frantic!

Earlier I tried to post from my phone, in the midst of the onset of a networking-induced panic attack, but I couldn't figure out how. So I had to settle for cowering in the corner of the ladies room (on a chair, duh), listening to "Dirty Diana" before I could compose myself enough to enter the job fair.

In case I forgot to say, I'm at a journalism convention in Chicago to schmooze, network, and accept my scholarship (not in that order). A convention, at which, I must say, the esteemed Barack Obama will be speaking tomorrow. So there!

Anyway, the fair wasn't the vomit-inducing, kill or be killed circus I thought it would be. And by that I mean no one was overly rude and there are hot guys here. I had to scribble tally-marks on my left hand (not the handshake hand!) count all the booths I stopped by. But still, I was glad when the day was over and my dad, my godfather, and I could go to Giorzano's for authentic Chicago deep dish. I must say, I'm a little disappointed in myself. Usually I'm good for three slices of pizza, no matter what kind, but honey, after one slice of that cheesy goodness and I was laid out! I couldn't go out like that; I did manage to go back and attempt a second slice (attempt being the key word).

Tomorrow I accept my award. My picture's in the program and everything. My dad got a kick out of that. So if you need me tomorrow evening, I might be busy enjoying my 15 minutes of fame and probably still trying not to faint.

PS-I heard from the Runner today, via Facebook. And a few days ago, Science Guy. *blank stare*

Whilst Bored at Work, Written on a Contraband Post-It

That about sums up today. Any questions?

Finally

I'm getting terrific feedback from tons of influential people about my writing, I just bought new clothes for my upcoming trip, and Titanic just came on. Today is a good day.

Updated (many hours later):

-Found the other missing song from VS: It's called "Melt My Heart to Stone" by Adele.
-Absolutely bawled when I finished watching Titanic...when I confessed to my mother, she just looked at me pityingly and said, "But...you already know he dies in the end." So besides the point. That's not even the part that gets me.

Anyway, as promised, here are pictures from Warped Tour, along with a little bonus footage:




































Enjoy!

Cutting My Teeth

I took a much-needed nap meant for two this afternoon. I was in a romantic mood today. I don't know why. At work I came across some massage oil with dice in them, one with a naughty verb and one with a body part. "KISS her BACK" and "NIBBLE his EARS," et al. And later I got some all over my hands. Occupational hazard, I suppose, along with testing perfumes and knocking over a shelf full of spare garter belt clips (true story).

I'm letting Youngest Sister watch a movie with a lesbian couple in it. In a house that still spells out "s-e-x." Is that wrong? I don't want to scar the child because I'm a hippie.

On Friday the interns from TV Station, along with Website Girl went to cover Cool Music Event, which, I'll tell you, was the Warped Tour, sponsored by Vans. Very hipster, "emo," punk, pop-rock, kind of deal. Lots of great bands have graced its stage, and I've kind of always wanted to do but never had the motive, means, or opportunity. Going as a part of the press (complete with super-cool press pass), was completely fun. I got to interview: Jimmy from Every Avenue-so nice, a shaggy blond sneaker-head, Sashi from Gym Class Heroes** (I was quite annoyed that frontman Travis didn't do any press)-cool guy but probably shy in real life, and had a side conversation with Derek, the drummer from Family Force Five. I didn't even know he was in a band, we'd just started chatting about the weather and ended up having a 15-minute conversation. I don't remember the rest of the bands I met. Most of them and lesser-known, and that's the great part about smaller venues and un-famous folks: once you're near them (credentials are the hard part) most of the members are refreshingly unpretentious-honored and lucky to have the chance to do what they love.

One of the more fun ones was a British band called TAT. A girl and two guys, all very fun (Tatiana, the lead singer, made me feel her boobs-during the interview). Even though I screwed up their names, we turned it into a joke and had a really fun on-camera interview. They got a kick out of me using the word "smidge," apparently it's a British saying as well. Afterwards, the band told me that ours was "better than some of the other ones we've had." So that was comforting; I have a phobia of being filmed. We ran into issues with band management and might not be able to use the video, just audio, so we shall see. I have to say, though, it was the hottest day of the week during WT, so I'm sure my sweaty brow looked darling. And the place was so filthy I was overdressed in my plaid frock and gladiator sandals. Hot as hell, but a good time. I went to say I went. [Pictures soon of GCH's set].

My sincerest apologizes, I seem to be exhausted. That nap for two wasn't as effective as I'd hoped. I've been running on close to E for the past week; you can probably tell on-sight that I've been burning the midnight oil...

***I will forgive Travis for our interview that wasn't because GCH's set was in-fucking-credible. Enough energy to power a stadium. They played songs from their upcoming album, The Quilt, but they finished with "Cupid's Chokehold." And at the end, Travis grabbed the mike, and asked the audience to do him a favor: "Have a nice fuckin' day!"

Yet Another Thing I Can Become Obsessed With

Ok, ok, I give. I was going to wait until I had an initial fun picture to post, but time has just not been on my side. So I will tell, rather than show:

I FINALLY GOT THE BLACKBERRY CURVE! SHE IS ALL MINE! *maniacal laugh*

I shan't bore you with the lo-o-o-ng setup process (we're talking hours), but just know that the lil' thing hasn't been too far from me ever since I picked it up on Monday. The only setback is that I wanted to sync it to my school email address but of course My College's DefCom 5 security made it impossible for even the guy at the Blackberry store couldn't hook it up! Which means I had to call the Help Desk, which of course was pointless because no one answered (you'd better believe I left a voicemail). But anyway. That minor blip aside, I am in gadget love.

I had a refreshing conversation with Top Chef (via text, duh) about the turn blogging has taken. I was worried about my anonymity (or lack thereof) and the issues I had with it last year. TC took his regular stance to my everyday minidrama: providing commentary when necessary but allowing me to talk myself through it. A thousand thanks to you!

I am watching Project Runway right now and am already taking issue (I fell asleep earlier today and missed the original airing) with something (don't get me started on some of the looks. My God):

Austin, adorable though he was, was NOT the winner of Season 1. He didn't even make the Top 3...he totally should have been, though, in the place of that psycho soccer mom Wendy Pepper. In your face, though, WP: Austin is the creative director for Kenneth Pool. Why lie, Project Runway, and use Austin instead of the real winner, Jay? I mean, is one measurably more famous than the other? I had to Google both of them. Maybe it was a time thing. And yes, what would you refer to Austin as? Almost a runner up? Fourth best? Yeah, best to stick the misnomer of Winner of Season 1. I wonder if anyone noticed.

Damn. I had a lot more things to say (don't I always?). But what were they? Let's see...I redid my underwear drawer to look like the drawers at VS? No, that wasn't it. This upcoming trip to Chicago is wearing me out? Eh, more on that later. I really, really want to go shopping? Well, what else is new?

I'm sure I'll figure it out, and of course will let you know when I do. I am nothing if not meticulous.

Forthcoming!

Great things are ahead, people. I want to wait until I have a quirky picture to share, which will be up as soon as I have a minute or two. Hope all is well in the blogosphere!

Oh yeah, finally heard back from the previously MIA Bestest Friend Forever. Good thing, too. For awhile there I thought I was gonna have to put on my Haz-Mat suit and go down to Mississippi to hunt her down.

Another Plea

I'm a nice girl. That's always been my thing. I'm a "very nice girl." In this day and age of bitchiness being the equivalent of successful and the whole "nice guys finish last" syndrome, I'm starting to wonder if my "niceness" is misplaced. If niceness isn't another way of saying pushover, doormat or even weak.

At times it seems like I can play the speak first, think later, fiery loudmouth game. But I never feel like that's the real me. But at the same time, sometimes I feel as if I hold back or don't say what's on my mind so as not to tip the scale. I don't want to get walked on, though. Like, say someone did something a little rude or took advantage of me and I let it go. In the back of my mind I always think, could I ever do that to someone? Was I weak to give in and not stand my ground, even if it would have caused a commotion?

Generally, though, I think that I am considerate. I really don't like confrontation; I'd rather just let it go and not sweat the small stuff. But I fear that one day I will give into something not so small just because I'm too afraid to do anything otherwise.

Sigh. I just float along and then sometimes I get so angry about things that happened to me that I can't bring up again because it would cause a ruckus that took awhile to get through in the first place. I want to let it go; I feel like I'm not in control of my thoughts. Sometimes there's so much bubbling under the surface I don't know what to do. I think this year I really will get out of my own way and see a therapist. I kind of don't want to rip the Band-Aid off and explore what I really have going on, but I know I have to, even if there's crying to a complete stranger involved. I've been able to stem the tide thus far but I don't know how much longer I'll be able to. Once I get past these barriers I can figure out what I want in life and actually set out to achieve it.

That first step is the hardest. I've been going on and on about "starting over" and "letting go" but I have no earthly idea how to go about it. I need to kick my own ass and at least start taking baby steps to better myself and start living the life I know I deserve.

I was born by the river in a little tent
Oh and just like the river I've been running ever since
It's been a long, a long time coming
But I know a change gonna come, oh yes it will

It's been too hard living but I'm afraid to die
Cause I don't know what's up there beyond the sky
It's been a long, a long time coming
But I know a change gonna come, oh yes it will

I go to the movie and I go downtown
Somebody keep telling me don't hang around
It's been a long, a long time coming
But I know a change gonna come, oh yes it will

Then I go to my brother
And I say brother help me please
But he winds up knocking me
Back down on my knees

Ohhhhhhhhh.....

There been times that I thought I couldn't last for long
But now I think I'm able to carry on
It's been a long, a long time coming
But I know a change gonna come, oh yes it will

"A Change is Gonna Come"-Sam Cooke

You Jump, I Jump

So, yes, last night was the big birthday do.

Notable: my beef chow mein was delicious, my dad got my mom this ridiculously huge diamond (an update of her engagement ring I think), and my uncle, who moved to Kansas City and hasn't been back for six years, showed up and surprised everyone (well, me at least). That part was really nice. The best party guest goes to my mom's dreadlocked, Afro-centric, self-titled "renegade" teacher friend. She quit her teaching job and is working on her dissertation about the use of "Black language" (aka ebonics) and is seriously awesome. She and Top Chef would have a field day together--I told her she needs to come and teach at My College. Actually, I think she would have a better time at Brother College, but either way she'd turn the campus on its ear.

When it rains, it pours: at first, today's VS shift was turned into an on-call, for which they didn't need me. Not that I wasn't glad to get back to sleep, but, um, I need the money. Wait a minute. What if I get laid off?! It's not like I'm not expendable; I suck at the organizational part of putting the store back together (I had to give this one rude-ass bitch the side-eye last time because she snapped at me like I was incompetent when I was really just confused and a tiny bit EXHAUSTED), and I've only opened one store credit card. IF I GET FIRED FROM THIS JOB I WILL DIE OF MORTIFICATION. Not to mention destitution. Let's change the subject and hope for the best.

All day, since I didn't have to work (insert nervous whimper), I made an ass-shaped groove in the couch in front of the TV because there were all these specials about Diana, Princess of Wales on Oxygen. Quite fascinating stuff, actually, and just not because I like reading about her. A little while later I watched a documentary about the Titanic. Maybe I am a total nerd...

Speaking of the Ship Formerly Known as Unsinkable, I can only watch my Three Disc Special Collector's Edition DVD of Titanic every few years because I bawl every time I do. I can't help it. I'm totally fine up until the part at the end where Rose climbs up the stairs to meet Jack under that "Make it count" clock and everyone applauds as they kiss. That's when I lose it. I even tear up at the opening bars of "My Heart Will Go On." Oh, God, I'm getting sappy just posting that link. This is just pitiful. And yet, I'm considering unearthing my DVD as we speak. Do not disturb.

Ask and Thou Shalt Receive

This morning, I just said, "nope. Uh-huh, no way, Jose." After a phone call to Intern Easy E and a voice message to Intern Director #1, I officially played hooky from TV Station today. It's always a crap shoot whether or not I actually do work, so I took a chance and paid it. I mean, Website Girl's launch party was tonight, downtown, but it's not that deep. Well, there was a fashion show, no cover, and free cupcakes, but--hold on. What the hell was I thinking?! Shouldn't I have gone? No, no, today was a much-needed personal day. Yes, I went back to sleep after I canceled and didn't wake up until 1:30pm. Duh.

Tomorrow's my mother and her twin sister's (Lil' Cousin's mom) birthday. I won't tell you how old she is 'cause a proper lady never tells her age (I'm 19, by the way), but it is a big one. Tomorrow night will be a big dinner at Fancy Chinese Restaurant--Chicken Chow Mein, here I come!

God, today was laid-back fab. I shopped for Mom's present (shit, I forgot to get Aunt Twin's gift) and okay, bought a few lil' things for myself, took Precious the Dog for a walk, and watched the fifth Harry Potter movie and Big Momma's House (better than this atrocity and abomination). Can I just predict that the sixth and seventh movies will be hotfire? I will be front and center at both midnight premiers. Speaking of, I haven't seen any of the summer blockbusters. Iron Man, Hancock, the Incredible Hulk, not even Wall-E for crimity's sake. Maybe I will watch them online, I do have a penchant for superhero movies. I will not, however, miss The Dark Knight. Point blank period.

I have a question that has been on my mind since I spent the day on Blackcollegewire.com: How much do you know about Historically Black Colleges or Universities (HBCUs)? Can you name three? How about seven? I get the feeling that the general public doesn't understand or know anything about them, which often leads to misinterpretation of their intent when and if a Black College actually does make the national stage. So, anyone out there have at least trivial knowledge of HBCUs? Have a question about them? I really am just curious.

Yes, I am Complaining...but it's My Blog

It seems as if everything is bugging me/driving me up the wall. Everything is a pet-peeve. I can't stop thinking about things that trouble me or make me upset. Lately, even things like race relations, gay rights, self-reflection, and the environment have been on my mind.

Usually I counter these thoughts with singing (loudly) and favorite movie scenes and the like, but it's tiring. I really think it's a result of stress. Not even that I'm stressed I'm just tired. I almost flat-out refused to go to TV Station today. I want to sleep in. I want to read trashy novels and drink cherry Slurpees by the gallon (make that a Passion Fruit Bubble Tea) and go swimming and watch marathons and expand my DVD collection. You know, things you're supposed to do in the summertime. I mean, yes, the money and experience will be worth it and I really am grateful for these opportunities, and I enjoy myself usually and if the situations were reversed I'd wish I had a job and two internships, but I need a breather. And what's the point of making money if you're so stingy with your off-hours that you won't consider leaving the house if you don't have to?

Consider this: I have not been on Dlisted ALL DAY. That just should not happen.

I know, I know, it's called being an adult. Call me a spoiled freeloader. But I have the rest of my life to be an adult, and consequently, the window of being able to be a spoiled freeloader is getting smaller and smaller as I get older. I promise I will become a responsible, productive, tax-paying contributor to society when I "have" to. For now, though, if it's okay, I'd really just like to go swimming.

A Sign that I Might be Overworked

Will write more later, for now exhausted. Had to put the store (VS) back to rights after the Big Sale last night-turned-morning. Wanted to slit my wrists; will never get tricked into taking 9pm to what was supposed to be 5:30am but turned into 8am shift EVER AGAIN. But will this prevent me from going straight from TV Station tomorrow to shop at the very mall at which I toil? No, as you may have guessed, it will not.

Anyway, I could be losing my mind: the other night, I had a dream that Amy Winehouse was blowing crack-laced smoke in my kitchen, and that my mother (my mother! Who has never had anything stronger than an Apple Martini in her life) was smoking a joint in the basement.

Disturbing in every sense of the word.

I Found It!

Behold:

"Delayed Devotion" by Duffy




Yee-haw. One song down, one to go. Later maybe we'll chat about our Fourths of July and my eventful morning, but for now, feast your eyes (ears) on this.

Inspiration Pending...Stay Tuned

I will be asleep soon, I promise.

Hodge-podge: (n) a heterogeneous mixture. Lucky's persona.

You know how some people are all, "I am who I am no matter who I'm with, what you see is what you get, I'm real all the time,"? I wish I had that luxury. Not that I'm fake, just extremely multi-dimensional, perhaps. Different ways on different days. Sometimes it bothers me because I'm unsure of who I am at my essence. I've never sat down to really figure it out. What's the criteria for an essence, anyway? I'm having trouble expressing myself, my true self. As a result, because I don't know which way to go, I get complacent and go nowhere, or worse, go plain and unadorned. For example, if you ask me to picture my perfect room, I would draw a complete blank, and end up in something totally bland, you know? I can't find anything that accurately describes or encapsulates me--sometimes it seems like I'm all over the place and can't pinpoint the style or philosophy or lifestyle that I want for myself.

I guess that can be a good thing, a lot of things make me happy or satisfy me. Along with being "mysterious," I can keep 'em guessing. But I also feel like it's cheating in a way because I can never narrow anything down. Nothing ever seems both coherent and authentic, just a thrown-together montage. It scares me a little, honestly. Like, there's nothing uniquely "me" about my environment. I have a little bit of everything, but I want it to be more exclusive, like, you could look at something and without a doubt think, "oh, that must belong to Lucky," because it represents me so well.

I have an idea, though (solution-based problem-solving!). I will revert to the artistic days of my youth. Maybe I'll be a total dork and make a collage or something, maybe that will help me get an idea of who I am and what I like. Or maybe it will just force me to step back, look at the bigger picture, and realize that maybe being all over the place isn't such a bad place to be.

Hanging On, but Just Barely

This is how I look and feel right about now.

I haves a headache, my legs still hurt, and I still have loads to do before my head can come anywhere near a pillow.

Spent most of the day at TV Station stuffing those damned envelopes again, and this time without the pleasure of Sarcastic Intern's company; she's in LA with her boyfriend. Must be muthafukkin nice.

You'll have to excuse me once again, I really am exhausted and my room looks like the Titanic after the that nasty run-in with the iceberg.

I had another celebrity man-candy dream again last night, this time about Lil' Wayne. He was really nice and he gave me a ride in his Hummer. And no, I didn't mean that as a sex euphemism or anything. For once.

People I barely know continue to say complimentary things about me because of the scholarship, which is really quite flattering. Apparently this is the first year this scholarship has ever been given out, which, in case you didn't know, makes me kind of a big deal. LOL. Just kidding.

I really do have work to do tonight; some stuff for The Paper and with my other internship for Local Record Label. Also, I work on Saturday and have to cover a downtown festival this weekend for TV Station. Whew! Didya catch all that?

I feel there will be another long letter-type post coming up soon. I haven't decided if I want to air that particular bit of proverbial dirty laundry on this blog yet.

That being said, I must bid y'all adieu for tonight, I'm pooped. Happy 4th of July, eat some barbecue and crack a brewsky in my honor (or, better yet, something with tequila. No drinky-poos for me until I get back to school, ha)!
eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeffffffffffeeeeeeeeeeeeertr

Whoops, sorry. Almost fell asleep sitting up. My bad. Leaving, now.

Out of Shape and Out of My Mind

Before I begin, I want to thank everybody who congratulated me about my scholarship! I really appreciate it. My journey was a struggle, but I walked with Jesus and he led me to the light (and six months' rent). Anyway, please excuse any typos; I am in pain and craving ice cream and a hug. Here is my tale of woe:

I get bored easily when it comes to workouts, so when I decided to exercise yesterday, I wanted to try something new. Feeling, as I often am, inspired by the movie "Stick It" and Missy Peregrym's ridiculously toned body in the movie, I decided to do the conditioning exercises that we used to do in cheerleading back in high school. Oh, my naivete. When I started, I even thought, "Hmm, I'll need other stuff to do, too, just in case this is too easy."

Holy mother of calisthenics, help me, oh Lord, call me No-Legs Mahoney because I cannot move. How did I used to do these moves for an hour every day? And talk and laugh while I did them? I remember the number of reps we usually did, and fast-forward three years later, I had to cut that number in half so I didn't pass out. This me pats my old me on the well-muscled back; I was in fantastic shape life back then and totally took it for granted. To, think, I even thought I was too fat! I tell you, I sincerely hope my best days aren't behind me.

Don't you think I'm like 50 years old, talking like this?

Today, at TV Station, I actually passed the Holy Grail of internships: being delegated to stuffing envelopes. For SEVEN HOURS. It wasn't bad; all the female interns were there, and we just gossiped and got to know each other while we worked. Some I thought were rude or standoffish or just plain boring are actually quite witty and nice.

Sarcastic Intern, for example, is a "hoot" (her words, not mine). She's a little blond with lots of dry humor**, likes New York Magazine (like me), interned for a Famous LA Record Company, and has the Blackberry Curve. Bubbly Intern is just that, she's really sweet but she's having man-issues. I was kind of standoffish to her at first but I try and make up for it now because she's such a sweetie. DM Intern (for Dunder Mifflin, 'cause she really likes "The Office") is nice, too, telling us about all the nasty but comical fights she's had with her boyfriend. Sales Intern is really cool, too, she's been at TV Station for three years on a five-year internship. So, yeah, we (along with Intern Eazy E, who I also lurrve) just stuffed and chatted all day. 'Twas great. They ALL have boyfriends, though. I chipped in with my own various experiences, but left my own single status very vague; when Bubbly Intn. made a reference to my nonexistent boyfriend, I didn't correct her. So sue me...

OW OW FUCKITY OWWWW!!! I just had to walk upstairs and had to settle for muttering pain-laced obscenities under my breath because my legs are on fire, with old muscle ripping to make room for the new one. Fuck, it hurts. My left knee is absolutely knotted, and it's not even my bad knee. The one consolation is that I can already see the cuts of muscle popping out on the sides of my legs. Over the course of the day, the pain seemed to subside, even though I walked with an oh-so-attractive limp. But, being ever the optimist (or sadist), I did yoga this evening, thinking that some stretching would ease my tight muscles. Wrong-o. I still can barely walk without whimpering and howling like a constipated banshee. I'm hobbling like a new hooker after a double shift.

Great. Youngest Sister just stormed off because I wouldn't listen to Vanessa Hudgens while I typed this post. But, in between a bum knee, my rebellious hair, and the phone that won't stop ringing, I just...can't. I don't want that mess contaminating my YouTube queue. But I guess I had better stumble up the stairs and apologize. I shouldn't take my crippled status out on her, even if she is beating me over the head with fun facts about the little Disney starlet.

**An example of said humor: Bubbly Intn. was having a fight via text messaging with her boyfriend, who is apparently, being seduced by a vixenish trollop:

-Me: "Oh, so there's another girl involved?"
-Sarcastic Intern: "Yeah, she's a total slut. Nice girl, though."

Loose Ends

When things wrap up or end in my life, I like them to be wrapped and tied neatly. I hate loose ends; they can either fascinate me or drive me bonkers. Like those books my mom gave me when I was younger where you could make up your own ending? I hated them with a passion. When I can't find something, I go crazy. Like, at school, I couldn't find my flatiron in the 12x12 space of my dorm room, and it was the most frustrating thing, ever (I still can't find it. That room was like a Black Hole for hair tools). And now, the same thing is happening: at work, there's a soundtrack that we play every day, seemingly. I like the songs on there, there's some Amy Winehouse, Corrinne Bailey Rae, and India Arie, plus the theme song from Grey's Anatomy (weird, right? I'd never heard the song without the show). Here in lies the problem, though; there are two songs I like enough to download, but I can't figure out the artist or title to either one! No one who works there knows, either (actually I don't think they care too much. I try to listen out for the lyrics to Google them, but nothing's coming up! There has never been a song that I liked that I couldn't find, and I will NOT be defeated by these two! But seriously, it's making me batty.

Last night I had a dream about Chris Brown. Of course I don't remember anything important, except for me looking up to see him standing there, looking just like this. Like, this picture, in the deliciously, taut, sweaty flesh. Yum-o. Needless to say, that was a good dream. I don't remember him saying anything. But we know I like them dumb and hot (ha).

I just lost my train of thought.

Oh, now I remember. My resolve was close to being shattered at work today. All these couples and ladies buying bridal lingerie and other sexy stuff kept coming in and fucking with my head. Like, enough so that I almost ducked behind the a panty display to text the Runner. WTF, right? Sometimes I am weak.