weener

Maybe they can step it up on their war on women's health, too.

They're with Hanson now.

The "real me" is a dirty punk artist jerk and it's getting kinda scary how good I'm getting at dressing up and being professional at work. I'm reminded of what a fraud I am whenever one of my dirty friends that is part of my "real life" comes to my work for whatever reason.

Pizza and sandwiches make up the base of my food pyramid.

I can hold my pee almost indefinitely.

I can go all day without eating and drinking. I'll usually get a bad headache so I'm trying not to do that.

I used to be able to identify any dog breed on sight. I probably still can.

I have the dewey decimal system pretty much memorized.

You know the idea that if you talk to your plants, they'll grow better? The theory is that it's you exhaling carbon monoxide on them, but some say that playing music or sending them a fax has the same effect, so it's like the plants like to be cared about. I tested this by yelling insults at my mom's healthy houseplant that she had for years. It died after a few months of this.

PICS

We watched an episode of The Incredible Hulk the other night where David Banner gets asked out by some lady when they reach for the same book at the library and the librarian shushes them. They go on a date where they take a picnic basket in a rowboat on a placid lake, and then make out on a shag rug in front of a fireplace. There's this guy who tries to run David out of town because he has a thing for this lady, but it turns out he is just her dad.

This is the best show ever.

Growing up objectivist

My parents were libertarians, so I can kind of sympathize, but even they didn't go this far:

The answer to my question came on an autumn weekend during my sophomore year in high school. I was hosting a Harry Potter-themed float party in our driveway, a normal ritual to prepare decorations for my high school quad the week of homecoming. As I was painting a cardboard owl, my father asked me to come inside the house. He and his new wife sat me down at the dinner table with grave faces.

"We were wondering if you would petition to be emancipated," he said in his lawyer voice.

"What does that mean?" I asked, picking at the mauve paint on my hands. I later discovered that for most kids, declaring emancipation is an extreme measure -- something you do if your parents are crack addicts or deadbeats.

"You would need to become financially independent," he said. "You could work for me at my law firm and pay rent to live here."

This was my moment of truth as an objectivist. If I believed in the glory of the individual, I would've signed the petition papers then and there. But as much as Rand's novels had taught me to believe in meritocracy, they had not prepared me to go it alone financially and emotionally. I began to cry and refused.

Oh no, my coworkers are having a 30 minute conversation about Dancing With the Stars. Urge to kill rising...rising...

Man - facebook really made my day today. You know you get friend suggestions? I got one for the guy I was gonna marry.

Seeing his photos - WOW - I feel freaking awesome about my life right now.

Rad! that's the best thing ever!

whenever i feel bad about past relationships i always say to myself: Success is the best revenge! and it's totes true

I look up the profiles of popular girls who were mean to me, and most of them still live in our crummy hometown and are dating/engaged to some gross-looking guy. Then I think, Haha, I have a cute boyfriend and a fun life. How the tables have turned.

No joke: my Woods professor in college, Tom Eckert, made that last one.

This only happened because their first two choices, Fascinations and Office Max, said no.

Night one? Normal Weener stuff.

Night two? I'm not going, but Juan Mendoza is. That guy always wears the same outfit.