Postal workers suck. Even the hot ones.

I was so looking forward to charming the pants off of my hot new neighbor, in spite of my lack of religious convictions, but that's not going to happen.

You know why? Because The Hot Mailman is an asshole.

Let me explain.

When Jesus Freak moved in, about six years ago, she was dating THM. They broke up, but still remained friends. Jesus Freak, apparently fond of gossip, told THM that I am a big old whore.

Now, I will admit to having a dirty mind and thinking about sex 24 hours a day. But, that does not a whore make. But whatever. Even if I was a giant whore, they need to mind their own business, instead of asking my Dad if it bothers him knowing that his "daughter is so promiscuous." My Dad doesn't want to know anything about my sex life anymore than I want him knowing about it. He and I have a "don't ask, don't tell" policy about such things.

Guess who's not getting a "welcome to the neighborhood" blowjob now?

What really burns me about it is that I'm NOT promiscuous. In the time we were neighbors, Jesus Freak saw a grand total of about five different men. That's five men in almost five years.

I really do dislike the judgemental religious freaks. Seems pretty hypocritical to me.

Whatever.

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I am totally in love with this dog.

I had to watch RAM on Saturday for Kay, and she was dog-sitting our friend DB's St. Bernard, Delilah, while he and his lady, The Good Girl went to Catalina for the weekend. I CAN NOT resist dogs. As dumb as I am around adults, I turn into a big mushy pile of retardedness around dogs.

She is the dumbest, sweetest dog ever.

I decided RAM and I should take the dogs for a walk. We leashed up the dogs, and got about halfway down the block when RAM stopped walking, looked up at me, exhausted, and said, "TT, it's SO hot. Can we walk Delilah and Jessie later? I feel like I am going to die if I take on more step. Really. I'll die." I love the theatrical behavior in little kids. It was... maybe 85 degrees out, and you'd think we were in the middle of the desert the way this kid was panting for breath. So we took the dogs home, filled up his pool, and we all got in. RAM, me, and the dogs. If I didn't think my camera would have been destroyed, I would have taken a picture of that. Because it was pretty damn funny to see a grown woman, a five year-old and two dogs sitting in a little blow-up pool.

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I didn't go see the Batman movie like I wanted to. Instead, I stayed home and watched a movie I have gotten from Netflix four seperate times and never watched. It's called "City of God," and if you want to see a depressing movie about drug-dealing, stealing, and murder, along with small children carrying guns around and killing people, it's a great movie. It's sad, though. NOT a feel good movie. But a good movie, nonetheless. What's most disturbing about the film is that it's based on a true story.

I also watched "Anchorman" for the first time on Saturday. Hot damn, I love me some Will Farrell. And it has a Tom Jones song in it. AWESOME.

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So, you know how in the past I have said that I like to annoy my hispanic, mariachi blasting neighbors crazy with my cheesy music? In the past, I have pissed them off with Abba, Tom Jones, The Monkees, and Neil Diamond. And while they think it sucks, and have requested that I not play it, I have found music that actually drives them into the house (instead of standing outside for six hours drinking Budweiser and yelling in Spanish at the top of their lungs).

YESSS.

They hate Yeah Yeah Yeahs. They can't get with the loud guitars and Karen O's awesome screeching voice when I play it. So, because of that, I will never stop playing it.

God bless "Fever to Tell."