Endless trifling irritations in dialogue. Proof positive that life is no less entertaining in the kitchen than it was in the dining room ( Read more... )

So, I finally got to watch the Battlestar Galactica movie, Razor, and it was all the hardcore badassery that I've come to expect from my beloved show. Though, really, the entire extent of the Cain/Gina relationship shown was a chaste little peck and shoulder touching? (The sound bite at the commericials was hilarious, though: YOU'VE SEEN THAT ( Read more... )

The Law of Urgent Bag Activity: Napkin-folding can be done on exactly one counter once residents come in. This counter is small, in a corner, and situated right next to the coat rack. Law states that no one will need to access their bags until a busser-runner begins to fold napkins, at which point no fewer than three people will be overcome by the ( Read more... )

My Shakespeare class pretty much rules the world. Scratch that. It rules this world and all other conceivable worlds both discovered and undiscovered. We have acting troupes, dudes. I don't even LIKE acting, and it's still awesome. My classmates are funny and mostly smart. My teacher is cool. Helena from MSND is batshit fucking crazy, and it's ( Read more... )

It's really kind of messed up that I've been looking forward to the end of summer and the beginning of autumn so I would get to sleep in more. For most people this works the other way around. Most people, however, did not have to rise at five-thirty in the morning for their summer job, and have to dream of the day when their first class was so late ( Read more... )

That's your motto, is it not, Capital One? Then why do you send me an effing letter every single week offering me a credit card? I understand that, as a young adult in college, I am exactly the type of person you are wishing to ensnare, but really--I've been ignoring you for the past three months. Are you incapable of taking a hint ( Read more... )

Everyone has seen the anti-drug and anti-alcohol PSAs, right? Hi I'm Sarah and I'm eight and in five years I'll be an alcoholic, start talking before they start drinking, your dog wants you to stop smoking pot (though if you're hallucinating that your dog is asking you to give up weed then...I really don't think weed is your biggest problem), etc. ( Read more... )

The short version:

Dear Powell's Bookstore,

I would just like to let you know that you do, indeed, still own my soul and all the love I have to give.

Looking forward to sending you my first born,

Bee.

And:

Dear Portland Traffic,

Fuck you very much, okay? That is all.

Hate,

Bee.

( Long Version )

There is a competition. I do not know when this comptetition aired, because networks--especially ones that deal with animals--will show the same contests over and over for a couple of years before taking them out of the lineup, but the existence of this competition perplexes me. It is called America's Cutest Puppies. Maybe it's because I'm a deeply ( Read more... )

It's my birthday! Thank Christ. Only this coming year and I can be done with the wretched 'teen' suffix forever. And Edict is making me a lovely cake, and we're going to pick strawberries, and my presents were awesome, and yays! I'm in a very happy place right now. And I'll stay there, so long as I can keep my mind off my rapidly approaching finals