Ever cheat in school?
only on my statistics final... but that was not intentional, the idiot professor handed me half the answer key along with the test packet (by accident, of course) and I only noticed the answer key when I was halfway done with the test... I figured returning it to him would be a bit suspicious an hour into the test... and not using it would be... stupid...

A few lessons learned on assembling the Expedit Bookcase... this is the 3rd Expedit bookcase I have assembled within my lifetime and sense being uncommon, and previous mistakes not used for reference, it is actually halfway assembled in pieces in the middle of my living room, surrounded by cutlery, nail cutting tools, bloody paper towels and pieces of carboard and plastic... there it shall remain until I get my hand stitched together and am able to continue the project...

I get it, the furniture is “bargain-priced”... but why does the customer service have to suffer so fucking much? Finding a human being in that store is like searching for a lost earring... first of all, you have no idea where to look, and when you do remember where you've seen it last... Is it there? Is it not there? Is it somewhere else entirely?

What is the point?

So, you may sense a pattern in my reading: the latest memoir to get added to my favorites bookshelf is the Secret Diary of a Call Girl... Belle de Jour. The infamous blog has spawned a book or two or three, a show and a trend of hookers all over the globe to chronicle their... er... work experiences. I can somewhat relate... having stood pretty close to the thin line between entertainment and prostitution (mentally... mostly)... Small excerpt from the book...

or Why All Men Should Be Banished To Pluto

As previously mentioned elsewhere in this blog...
I have a problem with half
If the glass is half full, fill it immediately
If it is half empty, chug the contents.
Similarly, if my clothes are half-off... your intentions better be....

DO I HAVE TO SPELL EVERYTHING OUT?

So... I come across another fun ad campaign... and it only interests me because I love design, I love "witty", I love pastel (because it matches my site so perfectly) and I love shoes... and now I also love Cindy Something-or-Other for coming up with the concept... oh and of course, I occasionally love Manolos (occasionally?! what blasphemy!)... eh... yea... I can't love them because Carrie Bradshaw told me to... sorry.

Note to self: You already know what the perfect shoes to wear to HIS wedding are... that is, if he has the balls to invite you, which he does not...

Inspired by my growth of appreciation for the Green Party*, I am blogging about my appreciation of green... the... uh... color.

I wake up to the relentless predicament of what to do first: brush my teeth or get on the scale. Just as the day before (and the day before that), I brush my teeth first. Who sings that song... “every day is exactly the same”? That’s what it feels like when I take out the dog, toothbrush still in mouth, mailman walking towards the building, me and puppy scurrying back inside so tha he doesn’t get to see me in semi sheer tank top, happy bunny undies and fuzzy slippers... again.