Write much? (warning: this is a scattered blog)

Alright, fair enough. I haven't written in awhile. But check it out: I was sitting outside earlier and watched an ant carry his dead ant friend back to the ant...place. Hill? Hive? Wherever ants live. I thought it was a sweet gesture in the natural world. There's your "awww" moment. Now shut up.

We're in the middle of a heat wave right now. If one more person says, "Hot enough fer ya?" I will set them on fire and say, "Actually, until THISMOMENT, it wasn't. So thanks."

Where am I going with this? Nowhere.

I just finished eating a bowl of spaghetti made with homemade sauce I found in the freezer. I admit, it's a sauce that my ex "fiance" made. I use the term "fiance" lightly, since we were engaged for all of about 3 1/2 hours. Anyway, I think this sauce was the only productive thing he did in all of 2008 (and maybe even 2009) - assuming you don't count the ridiculous amounts of masturbation and the massive amounts of bacon he made (both of which were usually followed by a nap). But I digress. It's good stuff, regardless of how much he sucked. I only hope he washed his hands when he made it.

As I'm sure you all know by now, I like food. I look foward to summertime (heat aside) because of the parties. Where there are parties there is food. Hells yeah!

I hit a party a few weeks ago. While I was on my 5th serving of pulled pork, pasta salad and shrimp cocktail, the heroin-addict brother of the hostess approached me and asked, "Where have you been all my life?" I eyeballed him - too skinny, needed haircut, faded black jeans and I KNOW that Slayer hasn't performed recently, and I responded, "Uh, probably at school or at a JOB." I stuffed my face with cheese and walked away. Was it rude? Absolutely. But drug addicts don't count as real people, everyone knows that.

Later on (same party), his drunk hostess sister came over to me. Side note: Here's the thing about parties - they are very much like poker games. If you look around a poker table and can't identify the sucker, then it's probably YOU. In this case, if you look around a party and can't spot the asshole, guess what?

Back to my story. The drunk hostess comes over to me and starts chatting me up. I've met her a few times before at other family functions. Blah blah blah and 20 minutes later she says, "I really like you. We should hang out sometime!" I looked at her, smiled and said, "Absolutely!" pause "But what's my name?" I'm sure if I listened closely at that moment, I would have heard her poop a little in her pants. And let me tell ya, it's funny enough when a drunk person slurs, but add a panicked stutter and the results are PRICELESS. She had no idea who I was, and I had to break it to her that my name was Michelle and I only hung out with people who knew my name. Who brought the asshole?

A few weeks later I went to another party. This time, the hostess was a close(r) friend of mine and while we were sitting around her patio table, she asked when I had my nose pierced. She apparently mistook a mole on my nose as a piercing scar. Funny enough, when I was around 14 years old my mother mistook this same mole for a blackhead. She spent 15 minutes trying to pop it before I realized what was happening and stopped the action. I had to explain to my friend that it wasn't a self-inflicted scar, that (unfortunately) I was born this way. Before she could respond, I said, "Oh, and before you ask, NO, I was not in a fire. I just have a shitty complexion."

I guess it could have been worse - she could have asked when my baby was due, or insist I take my backpack off (and I wasn't wearing one). I find it refreshing when other people have a 'foot in mouth' moment - usually I'M the one who does that kind of stuff...like when the blind guy at my gym walked by and said, "Goodbye," and I responded with, "See ya later." And I NEVER say that! Of all days...

This is all I've got. See? All this waiting for a blog and it's a whole lotta nuthin'. OH! I almost hit a rabbit on my way into work this morning. And as a result of that, I almost hit a mailbox and then a bike some kid left in his front yard. There's a little juice for ya.

The picture of Justin Bieber is just because he's a pretty big deal right now, and I'll do anything to be trendy. Besides, if his own mother can exploit him, why can't I?