Originality is for suckers.

Because I follow the herd, I am stealing everyone's recent entries and listing my 100 favorite things.

Deal with it, suckas.

Things I love, in no particular order:

1. The Pacific Ocean, especially in the late evening.
2. Finding money in the washing machine that I forgot I left in my pocket.
3. Living by myself and being able to support myself (though a naked man wouldn't hurt. I'm just saying).
4. When RAM lets me hold him like I did when he was a baby, and he puts his arms around me and whispers in my ear that he loves me.
5. Men with British, Australian or Southern accents.
6. Sex in the morning.
7. The first time I get in bed when the sheets have just been washed.
8. Having an open mind.
9. Meeting other open-minded people.
10. Laughing my ass off.
11. Making other people laugh their ass off.
12. Finding a book that is so good I can't stop reading, and stay up all night to read the whole thing.
13. The people on my buddy list.
14. Sex in the afternoon.
15. People watching.
16. Hearing a song I haven't heard in ten years, and still knowing every word.
17. Watching "Raising Arizona" for the 21436th time.
18. Hearing the words "I love you."
19. Reading back in my old diaries to see what I was writing about when I was 12.
20. Kissing.
21. The movie "Like Water For Chocolate."
22. Priding myself on the fact that, after working with her every day for five years, I've managed to NOT kill Celestia. Though, I think about it every.single.day.
23. Listening to CD's that other people make me.
24. Quoting movies and television incessantly.
25. Talking shit about my co-workers with Margie and using our dumb code words that we think no one else knows, but they probably do.
26. Sex in the evening.
27. Dumb inside jokes with my friends that make us laugh our heads off.
28. A good cry.
29. Having a dirty mind.
30. Giving little presents to people for no other reason than to let you know you thought of them.
31. Getting little presents for no reason other than that person was thinking of me.
32. The feeling you get the first time you see a band you love live.
33. Watching moron movie stars who think they're smarter than everyone else make an ass out of themselves.
34. Being a smartass.
35. MAC lip gloss, especially in Oyster Girl, Spite, Explicit, and Lustrewhite.
36. Painting my toenails.
37. Chatting with my friend Jeremy when I should be working.
38. Having fresh flowers around me.
39. The smell of Red Door and/or Happy perfume.
40. My crazy family, even though they drive me batty most of the time.
41. Spending a Friday night with my sister eating pizza and watching "Clueless" and "Bring it On" for the millionth time.
42. Mmmmm... pizza.
43. The movie "Amelie."
44. Waking up to get it on in the middle of the night.
45. The butterflies I get in my stomach the first time I kiss a boy I really like.
46. A clear blue sky and a cool breeze.
47. Driving in my car with the windows down and the stereo blaring, going nowhere in particular.
48. Having curly red hair (though I could do without the frizz, thank you very much).
49. Being good at my job.
50. Listening to songs in foreign languages, even though I have no idea what they're saying.

Ok. I'll bore dazzle you all with the rest next time.

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If you ever meet a woman named Janice Dickens, please flip her off and then kick her in the crotch.

I'll explain. About five months ago, I started getting these messages on my answering machine. They were automated messages saying "this is not a sales call. It is important that you call us back at 555-555-5555 (yeah, that was really the number)." My feeling is, if they can't have a real person call me, I'm not calling them back. Plus, I know all my shit's in order, so I wasn't worried about it.

Finally, about two months ago, a live person left a message, so I called it back. He asked for Janice Dickens, and said that she owed them a buttload of money and wasn't paying her bills. I explained that she didn't live there, and I had no idea who she was. He took me off their call list. I still got four or five calls a day for this deadbeat whore who put my phone number as hers to all her creditors.

I started returning all the calls, explaining that I didn't know who she was, she didn't live there, blah blah blah. A couple companies didn't believe me, and I had to fax them copies of bills, and my driver's license, and other crap to prove who I was with my address on it.

Fuck.

Then, yesterday, I was returning what I hope would be the last one, and the girl I talked to mentioned something I hadn't thought about. Identity theft. She told me I need to check my credit reports, and make sure this bitch hasn't wrecked my credit (which I did a pretty good job of myself in my 20's, but I've been busting my ass to clean it up).

This should be fun.

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I'm glad it's Friday.

And Sunday we'll be celebrating Dandria Day (my self-created holiday), and you're all invited! Woo! Drunk on Sunday is good times, my friends. Good times.

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Go vote for me in warcrygirl's keychain contest.

RIGHT NOW.