It ain't eggs

Ehrm... I think this song is on our CD at work, or at least something that sounds similar, because every time I hear the "It ain't pretty" line, I mentally insert "[if] it ain't eggs" and continue fom there with "it ain't breakfast", despite the fact that the songs aren't the same at all. Maybe, maybe there might be something similar in the tune somewhere. Kind of like last night, when this guy was leaving the box office between sets, and he had a full head of grey hair and was in a black jacket... for some reason he was replaced with Mark Twain. A closer look at him revelealed he looked nothing like Mark Twain... but, well, my imagination's pretty powerful when I just glance at someone, I guess. Because holy crap, it looked like it was Mark Twain out there. No wonder my managers think I'm weird.

Oh? And that Nickelback "Photograph" song? Dear goodness, radio, stop it. It's in commercials, too. And it's not good! Oh, and September was over what, three months ago? You can stop overplaying that, too.

Two random points of advice I have for people: If you wear your socks around inside without shoes all the time like I do, don't wash them inside-out... all the stuff just gets stuck on the inside and it's still on your sock when you wear them again. For some reason, this idea hasn't struck my mom yet. Also, if you need toothpicks to test to see if something is done baking and you don't have any, dry spaghetti works almost as well. (As do chopsticks, if you don't mind gaping holes in the top of your confection.)

Also, I'm starting a war on ten year-old boys. Well, young boys around that age. They're stupid. After the idiotic ones we had last night in the theatre, I was less than amused... then today I was in Pac Sun wandering around (wasting time, since I had errands at the mall and didn't want to head home yet) and one of them walked in, sneered at me, and called me a prep! Little boy, don't be an idiot. Just because I'm not wearing a Metallica shirt and shower once in a while (I'm a girl goshdarnit, I'm supposed to be clean) doesn't make me a prep. Also, you're ten and I'm twice your height and age. I could throw you. If you're old enough to give me a hard time, I get to throw you. And when you're hanging upside down from a rack of skater-punk clothes, maybe you'll realize why. Just because I wear collared shirts under my t-shirts. Pah. You're not cool. Maybe if ten-year-olds came in emo, that'd be okay. But they don't. Awww, ten-year-old emo kids would be adorable. But nooo, they all come in obnoxious and dirty. You probably have to hit puberty to be emo. I should do a study on this.

I had a bizarre dream last night... (what a surprise!) I haven't been writing them down lately, though, so I've been having trouble remembering them later. In an effort to fix this ( I'll have to talk about it now )

( And this one's cut for girl stuff )

And, as a parting note, driving through post-holiday traffic while listening to Pirates of Penzance? Really, really weird. And sort of cool. Yay public radio. (Though my mom made fun of me for having it on when I picked her up for lunch.)