I Miss You

I sincerely miss Blink 182. I don't care who makes fun of me for proudly proclaiming it. They were awesome, and most of their songs make me ridiculously happy (though "I Miss You" and "Adam's Song" make me want to sob like the pathetic girl I am).

On that random-ass note, HI! There's a good chance only two people will look at this blog considering my lame ass (second ass reference in as many paragraphs) hasn't posted since the end of last month. Work got super intense, and basically, sitting on the couch staring blankly at American Idol always sounds more tempting than using my brain to write stuff once I get home. In case the two of you were wondering, not much has happened in the past two weeks. Although I DID talk to Stryker on the phone and managed to turn a disturbing shade of magenta in front of my coworkers. Trust me, I was high for days off the experience, and am only now able to document it so matter-of-factly. I should've kicked myself out of the joyful stupor long enough to blog about it cuz now the giddiness is hard to recapture. If any more phone interactions take place, I'll be sure to write about them. Stryker, if you happen to be one of my two remaining readers, it was nice talking to you. And I didn't turn THAT magenta. Just sorta fuschia.

In television news, I'm disgusted with myself for my overzealous devotion to American Idol this season. It's horrifying. It even caused me to do something so out of character, so unlike me, that I'm beginning to doubt my sense of self. The time conflict has forced me to favor AI over...TOP MODEL. I know, I know - it's sick is what it is. My ancient Tivo can't record two things at once, and because Idol sucked me in, I've been choosing to record it on Wednesday nights instead of this season's Top Model. I feel like Tyra somehow knows and she's sitting somewhere with her crazy weave just plotting her revenge. If there is any good in the world, MTV or VH1 will run a marathon of the new episodes soon. Tyra, I know you can read my thoughts - please make it happen.

Okay, I'm starting to feel a little flu-like again, and I have to go figure out a way to hide my symptoms from my overreactive parents. Time to move out?