Things I am NOT thankful for:
Cheese, chocolate, and booze because they have made me fat this year
The ? key on my phone because it is busted
Cold weather
[Sister's] kidney stone because it has rendered her unpleasant this morning
Forced polite conversation
Split ends
Li'l Wayne, Beyonce, and Linkin Park
Voicemail
My current running shoes because I am now down to just seven toenails
Douchebags
Ed Westwick's face
Jagermeister
People who say, "It is what it is." WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT MEAN?! OF COURSE IT IS WHAT IT IS...BECAUSE IF IT WAS SOMETHING ELSE IT WOULD NO LONGER BE "WHAT IT IS." YOU MORONS ARE NOT ONLY STATING THE OBVIOUS BUT FILLING MY EARS WITH ABSURD FAUX-PHILOSOPHICAL DRIVEL. STOP IT.
Nov 27th
TGI...TMI
I am deathly afraid of hair. Hair in the drain, on the soap, on the seatbelt, in the mashed potatoes, stuck to the pillow, in the hairbrush, floating through the air, lying on the subway seat, in my mouth, God forbid, WHEREVER. Unless it is attached to my head (or anyone else's head), nothing provokes my gag reflex like the sight, feel, or necessary handling of hair. This fear did not begin with but is best illustrated by a scene from the classic sitcom "Coach". Coach walked into the kitchen where some other character (I think he was foreign) was stirring what looked like tomato soup in a large pot. "Oh, you made soup!" Coach exclaimed. He dipped the ladle and sipped the soup. "Oh, no!" said [Character] cheerfully. "I'm cleaning the hairbrushes!"
Despite my 'Nineties public school education, I still think smoking cigarettes looks cool and sexy.
To this day I never let a foot, arm, or other extremity dangle over the side of my bed because I am terrified that some creature or apparition lurking beneath will grab it and pull me to my violent, premature death.
Even more than a dog, I'd like to have a pet seahorse.
I have spent the past thirty minutes Googling Alexander Marquardt.
Nov 14th