IH8TEWE

Lately, I've been getting more and more irritated with vanity plates. You know, those stupid, cheesey license plates that people personalize for their cars. I guess I just don't get the point. I remember when I first turned 16 I thought it would be cool to have one, but I don't have a nickname or anything clever that I could have put on mine so I didn't bother. Plus why would I waste the money? Well, I'm glad I didn't get one, because now I make fun of those people.

There are several reason why personalized license plates bother me. One, I don't get the point. If you're going to put your name on it, the only people who know your name probably already know the car you're driving so what's the point in putting your name on your plate? Plus, those of us who don't know you could probably care less what your name or cutesy nickname is. Two, I just don't understand for the life of me why people put inside jokes on their license plate. Occassionally you'll see a license plate with some stupid saying or word on it that clearly nobody would understand unless you knew the person. I don't care about your inside jokes so how about you keep them inside? Third, and probably the most annoying, the word or phrase that people usually want on their plate is more than likely already taken, so they have to settle for some ridiculous version of the original word. You know like "CATLOVER" is already taken so your dream of having that phrase on your license plate now becomes "CTLURVR". Dumb.

The reason they are increasingly bothering me is because I keep seeing more and more stupid ones. When I see the stupid plate it makes me want to look at what kind of person would want their license plate to display this encryped message that is usually never self explanitory. And the best part about it is the person generally looks completely unrelated to the message!?

Yesterday on the way home from work, for example, I was following some stupid red car with personal plates that said "MRS LEVY". Aw, how cute, right? No. The person driving was clearly not Mrs. Levy, but a Mr. Another annoying example is a friend of mine, who is now in his very late 20's, still has his personal plates from high school which proudly displays his last name and high school football number. Come on pal, isn't it time to retire that number?

The best example of all has to be a few weeks ago when I was yet again, following another stupid vanity plate that I could not seem to get away from. The plate was supposed to read "CUTIE PIE" but that was obviously taken, so they had to settle for some weird and ridiculous version of "CUTIE PIE" which looked something like "QUETIEPE". Ugh... what does that jumble of letters even mean? Oh... cutie pie. How precious. What kind of 13 year old Hannah Montana fan wants to put cutie pie on their license plate so badly that they settle for that rendition? I gotta see this. So I pull up next to the "cutie pie" and it's some dude!? What the hell is wrong with you? If I were a guy I would not feel comfortable driving a car with "QUETIEPE" on the license plate. Sigh...

On an unrelated note, I was at the gym last night, doing a little running on the treadmill and watching some tv, when an ice cream commercial came on. It looked delicious. They showed an extreme close-up of someone slowly scooping it out with this spoon that made a sweet little texture in the ice cream and curled it up into a smooth little ball ready to be devoured. I was like, "Man... that looks delicious. Screw the gym, I'm going to the store after this to buy some of that ice cream!" I kept waiting through more close ups and slow camera pans for them to show the logo or at least tell me what kind of ice cream it was. After what seemed like the slowest skim of the top layer of ice cream ever they finally showed the logo.... it was butter.

I'm a fatass.

What's in a "Lap"?

I was lying in bed this morning and for some reason I started thinking about what a "lap" is. You know, like when someone sits on someone's "lap". If you really think about it, it's weird. A lap is really just your thighs, right? I think it's the only part of the body that we call a different name depending on what it's doing. If you're just standing up it's not a lap is it? It's just your legs or your thighs, but if you're sitting down, all the sudden it turns into a lap. Who even came up with this? I'm so confused....

Dictionary.com defines a lap as: the front part of the human body from the waist to the knees when in a sitting position. When in a sitting position?! Why don't we call our arms something else when we're sitting? I think I'm going to start making up my own words for similar situations. For example, when you sit in a cross-legged position, your legs are no longer "legs". They will now be referred to as "franks". When your tongue is in the resting position in your mouth while not talking, your tongue will be known as a "domino".

Weird.

Potential Career Change

Why is it that men feel it necessary to talk to women at a bar? I don't know if I'm weird, or different from most girls, but when I go out with my friends it's not to pick up guys. Sure, if I'm obviously starring at you, or giving you some indication of interest feel free to hit me with your best shot, but in most situations I don't want you to talk to me.

Wednesday night I was enjoying some hot wings and frosty beers with two of my best girlfriends. We were having a great time drinking, laughing, gossiping, you know the drill. Towards the end of the evening the table next to us filled up with some older gentlemen in suits. Let me preface by saying that the establishment we were at is not a "suit" establishment. Don't get me wrong, I'm all about going straight from work to the bar, but it was awfully late to be leaving work.

First, they were obviously starring, and when your tables are about 8 inches apart from each other it makes things a little awkward. Mid-conversation our conversation is infiltrated by one of the suited lads. He doesn't even say "excuse me" or "I'm sorry to interrupt" just barges in and proclaims,

"It's not very often you see a brunette with blue eyes."

A little caught off guard I respond, "Yeah... it's all natural too." He comes back with,

"Wow! Really? Man.... you and my wife are the only ones I've ever
seen like that. Twenty years ago you would have been in trouble. Man..."

...as he shakes his head and walks off. My internal response went a little
something like this,

"First of all, if you've only seen 2 blue eyed brunettes in your entire life I think you need to get out more. Second, when you have to say 'twenty years ago...' you probably shouldn't be talking to me. And third, I don't think I would have been the one in trouble twenty years ago because chances are if you would have tried hitting on me twenty years ago this probably wouldn't have been an internal response. Sorry pal."

He goes back to his table, 8 inches away from us, we have a laugh and are back to our conversation. About a half an hour later, we're getting ready to head out and suit #2 slides from his seat, to a seat at our table. Great, what now? This guy literally doesn't even wait for a moment of silence to start talking, he just butts right in, and here is his pitch.

"Listen, I know you get this all of the time (as he shoves his business card in
my hand) but I own an advertising agency and I think you would be great for
modeling or voice work. I've been watching you, and listening to you, and I just
want you to know that if you ever, EVER considering doing any sort of work,
PLEASE don't hesitate to call me. "

Uh.... thanks? He leaves the table and I get a chance to check out his business card. It's an ad agency I have never heard of and trust me, I've spent plenty of time researching ad agencies. When I graduated college I think I sent my portfolio to at least 33 different agencies in the greater Kansas City area and this one was nowhere on the radar. My friend then makes the observation that the card and the name of the company slightly resembles that of a porn agency, not an ad agency. Well, it wouldn't be the first time I was propositioned to be in a porn. Maybe I'm on to something here...

... my life in a blender...

I'm just tired. I'm wearing slippers to work today, that's how much I care. I've had a lot on my mind lately and it's taking a toll on me. I would prefer my mind be empty, but it's clearly the opposite. Some things...

• In my 2nd attempt at supporting a homeless guy's drug addiction I got called "sexy legs". How reaffirming.


• I'm in the process of getting over bronchitis which is no fun. What's even less fun is waiting in line for 10 minutes to sign in at the CVS Minute Clinic and having some old man blatantly cut you in line. I made sure to cough on him.


• In 6 days I managed to eat an entire, 41 ounce bag of Skittles. If you're like me, you have no idea how much 41 ounces is. Let me tell you, it's a lot. As a result, my mouth is very mad at me. For some reason when I eat Skittles the insides of my cheeks get sores and it feels like my cheeks swell up. Eventually, as I keep shoveling Skittles down my throat, i scrape my teeth on my swollen, sore cheeks creating even more pain. It's a vicious cycle, but it doesn't stop me. I love Skittles. I need Skittle rehab.


• This morning when I got to work the office was pitch black. I didn't even bother turning any lights on either. I'm pretty sure this is what hell feels like.