current future wife: angelina jolie "If you were happy every day of your life you wouldn't be a human being. You'd be a game-show host." -- veronica, heathers.

it makes perfect sense that i am sitting here typing, eating (ranch doritos) and drinking (jolt cherry bomb) and avoiding the guy across who tried to tell me about jesus a few minutes ago. "sorry," i said, "i don't have time for jesus today. maybe another day." of course, i'm not sure that day will happen anytime soon, so i took his pamphlet to be nice. the pamphlet tells me that there are four things jesus wants me to know: i need to be saved, i cannot save myself, jesus has provided for my salvation and i can be saved today. well, the real question is, does jesus feel the need to stand neatly inside the middle square of the elevator floor because if he doesn't it will be out of balance and the elevator and jesus will be doomed to plummet all the way down? i don't think he does and so i don't think he would be of much help in that department, and that is the department i need a little help with right now. so. plonk. another day, okay? okay. in other news, everything goes as it does, and i can still not figure out why grown women will get up from a public bathroom seat and not flush, or not wipe off the seat despite large, horrific, scattered droplets - i am not your maid, and i don't need to be exposed to your urine and whatnot. thank you. o and pleeeease - turn the fucking water OFF if you've at least bothered to wash your hands. i do not need to be greeted by the sound of niagara when i am already squeezing my thighs together and wiggling to a stained stall, thank you. it's my sanit(ar)y level we are talking about here, and you should care. no, i didn't wake up on the wrong side of the couch, it only has one side so it must be you, not me, so hah. solved. ah well. i'm off to face the snow again. i love it when i can't feel my ears anymore. swoon.