Happy Birthday Holly!

4. I was born at 19:41, on 29 May 1985. There’s nothing really special about this day, but I still pause every time I see the clock say 5:29.

I have a friend who’s birthday it is today. I feel bad because I’ve missed it for the past eight years and she only has a birthday every four years.

Happy birthday!

(I apologize if I offended anybody by this post, but I feel really strong about this issue, as you’ve probably gathered from the post. Comments are closed because I don’t want trolls or people flaming me, but pings are open, so you can respond to this post across the blogosphere if you have any valuable insight to add or wish to challenge my claim in any way.)

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Deep, like a llama

People are like…

• permanent markers: the more you shoplift, the more likely your pants are to get written on.
• socks: because you wear them on the inside of shoes.
• clouds: they float in the sky and look fluffy, but they can also look less… fluffy.
• monkeys: because we look like them. I think we’re related, too, somehow.
• child abuse: it’s only funny in retrospect.

But isn’t that the point? I mean… really?

… no, seriously. What’s the point?

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I’m such a jerk to myself (Part II)

Even when I expect nobody to read what I write (as in a diary or in general), I still write silly non-sequiturs or pathetically lonely attacks on my prior positions that I may or may not have actually ever held.
My latest e-mail to myself:

Dearest Pixel,
I write this letter to inform you that I am thoroughly disappointed in you. Your life is a colossal disappointment to me. By the time you read this letter, you will be broke, alone and unloved. I know this because I know you. This is the reason why I have taken the advanced precaution to withdraw all of your money, isolate you from everyone and viciously attack all your loved ones. I simply can’t let you have the first strike at ruining your own life.
Loser,
Pixel

P.S. Actually, I did read some interesting things that I wrote to myself. Mostly, it was 2005 me bragging to myself (circa 2006) that I (2005) was dating a beautiful Australian girl and I wasn’t (2006 again). It’s okay, though. I always tease myself like that. It’s kind of my thing

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I’m such a jerk to myself

Futureme.org is a Web site that lets people send letters to themselves in the future.

About a year ago, I found that Web site and sent myself a few letters. I just received them all. I’d forgotten that I’d written myself so much. It’s gotten to the point that I just delete my own letters without reading them. I hate SPAM.

I’m going to report the bastard.

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The tooth is out there

28.

I’ve counted my teeth four times now and I keep ending up with 28.  That’s weird.  I could have sworn I counted 32 when the week started.  What happened to the other four teeth?

Furthermore, why are my cheeks swollen to the size of grapefruits and why can I feel gaps in my gums?

These seem like too many coincidences to not have purpose.  I think someone stole my wisdom teeth!

I blame the gypsies.

Last Year: Bad Advice
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