Jerkstene.

I remember my very first asshole move.

I was 7 and in grade 2. I know, it's young - but when you're this big of a jerk, you gotta start early, I suppose.
I had two teachers that year - they were on a job share.
One of them was lovely. She read us stories, gave us stickers and basically crapped out sunshine.
The other one, however, was the opposite. She was pure evil. We all hated her. She wasn't born, she flew out of hell on the back of Meatloaf's motorcycle.

Whenever she left the room all of the kids would start talking about how much they hated her - myself included.
The difference between them and I was that I was a somewhat manipulative little kid and spent a lot of time trying to figure out a way to get that nasty bitch on my side. I was sick and tired of her wrath and if I could lure her into my web of deceit, maybe just maybe it would work out in my favor.

One day, it hit me. The perfect ruse.
It was so simple.

I walked up to her desk, took one look at her and said "You know, all of the other kids hate you and think you're mean. But not me. I like you."

So, in an attempt to win her favor, I threw an entire class of 7 year olds under the bus and probably gave her a complex at the same time, as I'm pretty sure that she had no idea that everyone hated her.

No wonder I always ate lunch alone.

Breakfast of Champions

There's one lady in my office who always starts her day with a soda product of some sort.
When she opens the can, It sounds like she's starting her day with a brewski.
That would be really bad-ass. Or sad.

Depends on how you look at it, I suppose.

Winter Olympips.

This morning in the car, I referred to the Olympics as the Olympips, which Tina turned into "Gladys Knight and the Olympips".

I'm sure VANOC will see this blog post and demand that I remove it.

Jeans.

I am wearing a pair of Jeans today that I previously could not button up.

I think I'll celebrate with a milkshake.

Taking my time....

I am now in my 10th year as a new driver.
I'm just a slow learner.

Charlie Sheen and Whores.

There's so many things I could be writing about (my phobia of social situations, Christmas, work, TV, people who get their cats high by blowing marijuana smoke in their faces - a big pet peeve of mine, by the way)....but for some reason, I've been having issues coming up with half-decent blog posts.

Let's see....

Yesterday was a good day. I stayed in my pajamas until 4, then I got dressed and went to Wal-mart. I managed to rack up a 70 dollar bill on lunch boxes and plastic containers for this wacky diet I'm starting in the New Year.
And really, what's a New Year without a diet? For me, New Years and diets go together like Christmas and presents or Charlie Sheen and whores. Last year, my diet lasted 4 days. Shameful, I know.
I feel as if I shouldn't talk about it, as typically when I talk about a diet or "Lifestyle change" (as the book I'm reading calls it, BAH!) it sets me up for failure. So, this is all you're going to hear about it.
As a great kick start to my diet, we went to the Olive Garden for dinner with Nick's family last night. I ate too much. Story of my life.
However, there's something about the Olive Garden that always bothers me. Where we were sitting, there is this stupid decorative patio on the wall. On this patio is a small table with a chair. On this table is a bottle of wine.
Whenever I sit in this section at the Olive Garden, I can't stop staring at this table. It consumes me.
You know why?
There's no way to get up on that patio. How impractical is that? That's an extra table. People could sit there. You know, if they utilized all of their space properly, they wouldn't have hour and a half wait times.
And you know what?
I wanna sit up there one day. If I were a criminal about to be executed, I'd request to eat my last meal on that stupid patio.
Stupid Olive Garden fake patio.
That's going on my bucket list.

Facebook called me fat.

I've noticed that recently all of the ads that I see on Facebook have something to do with weight loss.

Facebook is a judgemental prick.