punk

I stood in the self-checkout line at Wal*Mart for about ten minutes listening to two girls (room mates? sisters?) argue about who was spending how much, how much the one owed the other, how the one wasn't going to spend more than $12 on this shit and $11 on this other shit. Something inside of me wanted to walk up to them and tell them "girls, life is too fuckin' short to argue over $12, let it go, and while your at it, it would be polite to move your argument somewhere else, then get back in line once you've decided, that way the nice people behind you don't have to stand in line while you figure your business out." But then a cashier down the lane waved me up to one of the auxiliary check out stations.

I picked up this stone (or some kind of imitation stone) Zen water fountain thing. I don't know why. It said the soothing sounds of water would make me a better person or some shit? It sounded neat. I figured I'd turn it on when I go to sleep. I tested it out and the whole "soothing sound of water" is pretty quiet. We'll see what happens when I do it after all the shit in the apartment is turned off and I have the bedroom door closed. Hopefully by morning my Chi will be focused.

There's a possibility that doolittle, Moist, engleking, vorbei and I will have a Scrubsathon at some point in the near future. This absolutely tickles me pink. But not like, gay pink. It also conveniently doubles as an excuse to spend money on the first couple of seasons of the show. You know, so we have episodes to watch.

I've been single for so long that the areas of my brain which control reason are starting to erode. Those Match.com commercials on TV are starting to look appealing, which can only mean that I'm degenerating into a sick, sick person. Instead of actually meeting new people - you know, entering that dating scene - I'll probably pout, throw a tantrum, and then spin in circles until I throw up.