Tomica, my hot new neighbor, and dog shit - oh my!

Scott tagged me for the "name your six favorite songs of the moment" game, so here they are. They are not all new songs, just the songs I have been loving like crazy recently.

"Willow Tree" by Gregory Isaacs (thanks, Scott)

"The Best of You" by Foo Fighters

"Feelin' Love" by Paula Cole (seriously, this song is PURE SEX. Listen to it.)

"My Doorbell" by The White Stripes (actually, I am obsessed with the whole CD)

"Till I Get To You" by Nikka Costa

"Nameless" by Esthero

I am supposed to tag five more people, but I'm a rebel.

So I am not!

I'm such a badass.

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Because I can't get enough of Tom Cruise and his downward spiral into complete lunacy, I read in my Rolling Stone today that Us Magazine was speculating that Tom's people originally wanted Jessica Alba to be his pretend publicity-stunt girlfriend before it was Katie Holmes. That way, all the young guys that think she is so smoking hot will in turn think Tom is a big virile stud for getting her, and then he'd be their hero, and they'll all run out to the theaters to see his films.

Yeah, that should work.

Jessica Alba is way too hot for his creepy Scientologist ass.

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My Jesus-Freak neighbor is moving out, and my hot mailman told me that he wants me to talk to my Dad about getting him in the apartment.

YESSS!

I am so all over having a hot neighbor (instead of the crazy-ass ones I have now). I am almost delirious with all the "package" innuendo that would be going on.

My other neighbor across the street (who has 12654 family members living there, one of them being the driver of the super-cool booty car), came over and asked me to tell my Dad that he's interested in moving his mother-in-law in.

Uh, I don't think so. That message was conviently NOT delivered to my Dad, unlike hottie mailman's, which was delivered with the quickness. Because if his mother-in-law moved in to the apartment next to mine, that means all those loud fucking kids would be running around MY apartment all the time, playing in my yard, and getting on my last nerve.

No thanks. It's bad enough I have to deal with them all from across the street.

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So, Celestia, my evil work nemesis, almost got herself killed today.

By me.

She has to make these spreadsheets that I eventually use for my accounts payable. She refuses to listen to my suggestions about how to use excel more efficiently, so half the cells that are supposed to be formulated and added up aren't, making the totals wrong. Which means I have to back track and add all her work up. She does it every. fucking. week.

I almost think she does it on purpose, knowing that it will make more work for me.

Evil whore.

Karma's a motherfucker, though. In an effort to kiss up to Mr. Big Shot even more, she volunteered to watch his dog while he was out of town. The dog is a 120 pound Alaskan Malamute. He spent the entire weekend digging up her backyard, eating her plants, and then, yesterday, he took a GINORMOUS shit on the front seat of her car.

And by ginormous, I mean it almost took up the entire seat. Enjoy.

On another work-related note, Mr. Big Shot's son Junkie busted out of the rehab daddy put him in that cost him more than my annual salary. That's two rehab centers in a month.

My parents should thank god they got the kid they did.