I realize this blog is slowly devolving into a categorization of my mental illnesses.

This is how I eat candy. If it's colorful candy, it must be separated immediately and grouped with like colors. Red, you get over there with red, and don't start making eyes at purple.

Red and green are the best flavors, usually. Don't believe me? Why do you think America made them the colors of Christmas? It has nothing to do with the birth of Christ and eveyrthing to do with flavors of ribbon candy.

If I am exhibiting any willpower, red and green are saved for last. Like any good lapsed Catholic, I usually power through the gross flavors (purple, orange, yellow) on my way to red and green. You have to SUFFER before you can reach the HIGH ROAD.

I realize as I'm writing this that my colored candy correlation may be a deep-seeded issue of faith. Thank god I've got enough greens to get me through.

"SOMEONE put that bottle on a flat surface, a TABLE, and thought EVERYTHING WAS COOL."

"SOMEONE is a messy old slob."

"SOMEONE is a big old jerk with an inner ear problem."

"What?"

"Nothing."

This is usually the week I start hating NaBloPoMo. I have nothing to say, yet here I am, taking up your time, talking about my broken, decrepit bones. It's a thrill a minute in the Henderson house!

If you could physically burn blogs to the ground, this place would be a pile of ash right now.

I'm phoning it in today.

But here - go watch some Daria (scroll down to the seasons) and you'll have a little insight into how I thought, behaved, and looked as a teenager.

Please explain "Gossip Girl".

Thanks,
Danielle

Any time I start to get stressed out about my workload, I try to take a step back and realize how lucky I am that learning is my full-time job. When I think of all the insane, emotionally manipulative, out of control bosses I've had, I am newly motivated to finish whatever bullshit assigments I have for class. I've never had a professor make me cry or want to kill myself, but I can think of at least three bosses right off the bat that have driven me to antidepressants.

I'll save the crying and wanting to kill myself for grad school and my doctoral work.

You have no idea how goddamn jazzed I am for this movie. And I LOVE the Muse song used for this trailer, "Take a Bow".

"I think I have a broken rib - can you get me one of those rib binding ace bandages?"

"How did you break your rib?"

"I don't know...probably rolling around with your son."

"Aw, Jesus! I DO NOT WANT TO HEAR THAT!"

"Well, you asked!"

I don't have a broken rib - just a torn muscle. But I'd break 4 or 5 ribs with my bare hands if I could freak his mom out to that extent again.

Long story short, she forgot it on campus in the building where I do my independent study; I picked it up on my way home, and dropped it off to her friend who works at this liquor store right down the block.

Here's the fun part.

I walk in and ask for Dave. She gave me a physical description, including the fact that he always wore a baseball cap, but there were literally 4 GUYS IN THERE WEARING BASEBALL CAPS. When I introduce myself as my A's friend, he says, "Hey - don't you live around here?" Yeah, right up the street. "Why don't I see you in here, then? I mean, you DRINK, right? You should drink."

I KNOW that this dude works in a liquor store, and is realistically just trying to drum up business, but all my heart heard was YOU LIVE IN A NEIGHBORHOOD WHERE PEOPLE WANT YOU TO DRINK MORE BOOZE. And then my soul left my body, hovered two feet in front of me, and did the lambada.

As I was walking up the street, I saw a guy standing in front of his house, moving in a really weird way. Arms flailing. Legs kicking. As I got closer, I realized that I recognized him from walking around the neighborhood, but I didn't know his name. So I introduced myself. His name is Jeff.

Jeff is a self-described flaming queen. When I asked what he was doing, he said that he was practicing for the club this weekend; he has a new dress that he isn't sure he can move in. Arms flailing. Legs kicking. In a dress.

I was already sold on the booze factor, but you throw street-dancing drag queens into the mix and you've got yourself a NEIGHBORHOOD THAT I AM NEVER LEAVING.