1. Learn Portuguese.
2. Get my black belt in Brazilian Jiu Jitsu.
3. Marry Kyra Gracie.

Last night, I had a dream that I was having recurring dreams of being dismembered and/or violently harmed. So really, I had about six subdreams of violent harm all back-to-back. My subconscious is a big jerk.

THE HETEROS.

RIPPED.

MY EYEBROWS.

OFF.

FOR SERIOUS.

A card in the OSCA rolodex under A lists the following entry:

ALLAH --> see God.

I hate when people post lyrics, but I can't stop listening to this song. Or at least, I can't stop listening to it when I can manage to do so, thanks to a busted computer and a total lack of an iPod or it on CD.

( just the thought )

“What’s your paper about?”
“It’s about heterospecific communication.”
“So that means…communication between straight people?”
“No, Liz. Hetero- means different and -specific refers to species.”
“I really watch The L Word too much.”

I signed on to facebook just now, and it linked me to this. It's taking entirely too much of my willpower NOT to order it immediately.

Facebook, why do you do this?

It's good to be happy. It's so good to go to bed at night happy and with a beautiful girl, to wake up happy and with the same beautiful girl, it is good to go through the day with sun pouring through the window and a good feeling sitting in my chest. It's been so long, and it's so amazing to have the answer to "How are you? How was your weekend?" ( Read more... )

Today has gone something like this:

"I'm feeling OK, I think...actually, no, WHINE WHINE WHINE WHINE OWHEART OWSHIN WHINE WHINE WHINE WHINE...hey! Easter chocolate from Mom!"

YOU NEED TO LOOK AT THIS RIGHT NOW