Midnight Munchies

I am pretty sure the cashier girl at CVS was stoned tonight. Here was our conversation after I placed my Double Stuft Oreos on the checkout table.
Cashier: Wow...
Me: ..?(confused smile)
Cashier: Ohooo man....
Me: What is it?
Cashier: The Oreos are 3D or something.
Me: oh... Mhmmm...

So, that's what I get for buying Oreos instead of dinner. CVS NEVER fails to impress me.

Factoids

Fact of life #528: Do not drive over speed bumps at 35mph when you are not wearing a bra.

Google Smarts

Tonight as I lay naked on my stripped bed eating Oreos, I tried to remember the name of the celebrity someone said my man friend/manly friend/masculine friend/friend man/dude/guy in my life/male acquaintance looked like. We couldn't remember so I decided to google it. The only thing I could remember about the actor was that he had unruly hair. So I typed "actors with hair" and pressed enter. That is the end of this story. I guess the point is, that's the dumbest thing to type into a search bar.

Teachings from the Old Country

An old Asian man once told me, "Humping is not for the faint of heart."

*It is important to note that an Asian man did not actually bequeath his knowledge unto me, but that this quote came to me while I was dedicating a loyal amount of time on le toilette.

Advice

When thou findeth dirty undies under thy britches
Thou shalt turneth thine undies insideth and outeth

A Tale of Work

Dreams are meant to come true. It's important to set goals in your life and aim for the stars. Shoot for the moon and crap, ya know.

Anyway, I have a dream. I ain't black but I got a freakin dream and that's allowed, so suck it.

I have always wanted to Xerox my love buns then tape the copy onto a coworker's wall, particularly someone of who I am minimally fond. Since I am fond of nobody the options are endless and vast, much like a prostitute's vaginal cavity.

Recently, we had an open-bar party at my work and near the end of the night, as the drunken suits were stumbling away, I realized that was the time to take action and make my humble life worth living by fulfilling this long-awaited experience. I grabbed my Corona and tequila shot and sashayed over to the back-room scanner. Glancing over my shoulder, I double-checked that Pedro, the pervert janitor, wasn't lurking the hallways with his leering smile and permanent tent pole. It always seems to be saying "Onward ho!" Luckily it was Onward Ho-ing somewhere else and I was free to execute my plan.

I opened the scanner top, shimmied out of my pencil skirt and hopped onto the machine. I decided to do a test run and clicked the 1 to copy a single picture of my eager cheeks. The copier made the drone humming it usually makes and as it was finishing, I scooted to the edge to climb off and that's when the huge old thing leaned with me and toppled forward as I fell off. I was never good at balancing. There was a huge clamor, and a half naked girl with the large machine pinning one leg down. It hurt but I was determined to not attract any attention. I twisted and maneuvered my body in a sort of spread eagle fashion but on one knee, using that to squeeze my leg out from underneath the humming printer. It may have been sexy, if instead of the device it was a bronze and muscular man and I wasn't fighting for my life and dignity.. "Dignity.." like I had that anyway.

So, I was struggling and grunting when I heard the unmistakable breathing of a Mexican with a mop and a boner, standing and staring at me from the doorway. I slammed the door closed with my free foot, but not before his hungry eyes saw a view my gynecologist hasn't even seen before.

Pedro's lucky day, I guess. Onward Ho!

Good Charlotte My Foot

You know your day will be productive when you wake up to this kind of text message:

Short, sweet, to the point. It's how the message gets across, and it's how communication should be at work. 

Naturally, my day so far is going extremely well. Abba is playing in the background and the words to this blog are tap dancing/pole dancing in the forefront of my mind. I have nothing of substance to say, except an introduction to yours truly.

 I am a 57-year-old obese Himalayan man, who you may or may not recognize from "To Catch a Predator" Season 3 Episode 8. 

Ok that's not true at all. In reality, I'm just a 20 something girl trying to make it through life without getting a hernia. 

So far, so good. 

I currently reside in Los Angeles (moving next month), land of starving actors and starving hobos. Which one am I? Not sure yet. I'm just cruising along, trying to get pictures of celebrities, but not for money. 

Speaking of the pa-pa-paparazzi, they were following me the other day in Beverly Hills. I mean, give a girl a break. I was innocently walking toward the pricey, yet delicious Lemonade restaurant, hoping to find some scraps in the trash when I see camera man literally emerge from a bush. That was the cue, I guess, because then at least 3 more dudes climbed out of their respective hiding spots (the trash can, under the stairs, behind a large dog) and started snapping photos of me. Too bad I hadn't worn my new JCPenny brand track suit. I always have the worst timing. I guffawed at their audacity and started to answer their silly questions like who I'm wearing, who I'm doing, etc.. when they stampeded past me and told me to get out of their way. Apparently, I wasn't the hot topic of the day. A couple behind me happened to be more      photo-worthy: 

Benji Madden and his Australian girlfriend. If you squint your eyes and blur them, you can see me at 4 clock, wondering why they were stealing my thunder. Whatever. 

Anyway, I'll be the next big thing. Much like Lindsay Lohan. 

A woman can dream, a woman. can. dream

Well, that's all for the in-depth look into my life today. Gotta go get the update from my friend who is now more knowledgeable about bj's (not the wine cooler). Until next time, keep your pants on. Or don't.