Echo

i’ll tell you about a vision i had:

they came to take away the body
and everything in there was lush green
except for this one shadow that slashed across
the right side of the room
driving a wedge through everything it was
and everything it thought it could be
and no one ever reached out a hand to touch it
to verify if it was even really there

i’ve seen a lot of ghosts
(we all have, haven’t we?)

To warp the words of Howie D., “Lately I’ve been drinking, and lately I’ve been thinking of you.”

So let’s play the drunken dysfunctional what if game:

What if the rules had been broken a few more times and I hadn’t talked you into staying?
What if the dreams that we dreamed were just the hopes of two people waiting to self destruct?
What if everything you said was true and everything I said was true and it was easier to make lies from them than to believe the truth?
What if I had been the one to throw in the towel early and cut you off at the knees so you could feel my pain?
What if you hadn’t come home drunk that night and beaten my insides so badly that I begged you to finish the job?
What if everything you knew to be true was a lie, and I was actually the one fucking with you?

It’s been years since I’ve seen you but maybe it’s time for me to confront your ghost. Because I see your ghost in every man I meet. I tell you I’ve seen it all. I’ve seen the dark side and I’ve seen the light and you are neither. You have barely existed in this world that moves too fast for a little boy crying into his sleeve. I’ve tasted beatings from every man and woman I’ve met and nothing tastes sweeter than the ones I give myself. You are the speck hidden on the side of the roof hinged in just the wrong way broken black and daring the world to drop you into oblivion. You haven’t haunted anything except the sad little boy hiding in his daddy’s shadow and one day when something bigger than you takes over and you’re not so much drowning as forgetting to breathe, you’ll remember the one person who reached out a hand and realize that you really fucked up and there’s nothing left in the world that won’t turn against you.

OH MY GOD! LOOK AT THE LAST LINE OF THIS ARTICLE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Thar she blows! Dead whale explodes
(article from MSNBC http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/4096586/)

TAIPEI – Residents of Tainan learned a lesson in whale biology after the decomposing remains of a 60-ton sperm whale exploded on a busy street, showering nearby cars and shops with blood and organs and stopping traffic for hours.

The 56-foot-long whale had been on a truck headed for a necropsy by researchers, when gases from internal decay caused its entrails to explode in the southern city of Tainan.

Residents and shop owners wore masks while trying to clean up the spilt blood and entrails.

“What a stinking mess. This blood and other stuff that blew out on the road is disgusting, and the smell is really awful,” a BBC News report quoted one Tainan resident as saying. The sperm whale was being carried by truck through Tainan.

The whale had died on Jan. 17 after it beached itself on the southwestern coast of the island.

Researchers at the National Cheng Kung University in Tainan said enough of the whale remained to allow for an examination by marine biologists.

Once moved to a nearby nature preserve, the male specimen — the largest whale ever recorded in Taiwan — drew the attention of locals because of its large penis, measured at some five feet, the Taipei Times reported.

“More than 100 Tainan city residents, mostly men, have reportedly gone to see the corpse to ‘experience’ the size of its penis,” the newspaper reported.

Nickname: BitchGetOffMyPorch!

Age: 25

Birthday: 6/14

Occupation: Writer

# of Siblings: 1

Would You Give Them a Kidney? yes

Are You Friends With Your Parents? yes

Favorite Movie: Welcome to the Dollhouse

Favorite Actor/Actress: Kevin Spacey. I’ll watch anything he’s in. / Helen Hunt

Favorite Book: I Know This Much Is True (Wally Lamb), American Psycho (Bret Easton Ellis), Barrel Fever (David Sedaris), Only Love is Real (Brian Weiss)

Favorite Band/Singer: Since the Backstreet Boys are technically a “group,” I can’t decide. I listen to everything.

Favorite Song: Oh, Eye of the Tiger, hands down. Best Make-Out Song. EVER. Or maybe, I Got You, Babe, by Sonny and Cher because they sound wasted. Seriously? I used to love Damn I Wish I Was Your Lover by Sophie B. Hawkins, until I found out that it’s a lesbian song. Okay, fine. I still do.

Favorite Drink: Mojitos or Absolut Kurant and Gingerale. Oh…maybe they’re not looking for an alcoholic drink. Shoot, now I sound like I have a problem. I love that C&C grape drink…it’s a Japanese grape soda pumped up with vitamin C.

Dream Car: A hot pink hovercraft

Places You Would Most Like to Travel: Seattle, China, Italy, Germany, Egypt, back in time

Luxury Item If You Were on Survivor: Toothbrush

Favorite Quote: I wrote you a long letter because I didn’t have time to write you a short one.

Favorite Word: what?

Least Favorite Word: moist

Favorite Cuss Word: punk-ass bitch

[extra credit] James Lipton should be…shot or castrated and shot? shot, castrated and then his big, fat head bronzed

Favorite Pick-Up Line: Sheeeit, baby, you so fine that if we was in prison, I’d totally make you my bitch.

How Many People Have You Kissed: I am the make-out queen.

How Many Of Those Were Conscious: Okay, none.

In High School, I was a… …um, girl?

If You Were Running From the Law–Mexico, Canada or The Backwoods of Arkansas? Man, they kill us slanty-eyed folks in Arkansas! I’m goin’ to Mexico. They’ve got cheap mango margaritas there…

Are You Hot? Yes.

I Mean, Are You Really Hot? Yes. Now get off my corner. I’m working.

On a Scale of 1 to 10 [with 1 being, “Holy crap man, it wasn’t even human!”], Exactly How Bad Was He/She the Sober Morning After? Man, you don’t even want to know. And this was every morning for two years.

If You Could Be Any Person of the Opposite Sex, Who Would You Be? The lucky guy who gets to marry me. Okay, Owen Wilson. He’s smart and sexy, he co-wrote Rushmore and Royal Tenenbaums (both incredible movies), he gets away with a funky nose, he can pull off leather pants…and he’s from Texas. But the first thing I would do is ditch the hos and declare my love for my brother, Luke. Second choice, Michael Jordan. That guy could get away with murder.

If You Could Meet Anyone in History, Who Would You Want to Meet? Carl Jung or Nikola Tesla.

If You Could Sleep With Anyone in History, Would Would That Be? Um…………………I don’t know. I’d like to cuddle with Jimmy Stewart.

If You Could Travel In Time, Where and Which Time Period Would You Go? 4th Grade, my elementary school. I’ve got some ass to kick. Or maybe to Germany in the 1800s before all that shit went down.

Do You Live in the Past, Present, or Future? Anything but the present.

Do You Believe in Love At First Sight? I believe in lust at first sight. But on rare occasions, that might grudgingly turn into love.

If You Had One Super-Power, What Would It Be? The ability to heal people.

If You Were Granted 3 Wishes, What Would They Be? [more wishes is not an acceptable answer] World Peace, Universal Happiness, and a huge rack.

Would You Rather Be Called Soulless or Gay? Gay, hands down

Human Beings–Inherently Good or Predisposed to Evil? Inherently good but it takes work to be and do good, and sometimes people take the easy way out.

What is Your Greatest Fear? That there’s nothing more beyond this mundane reality.

What Is Your Biggest Regret In Life Thus Far? graduating from college early.

Me: do you ever wish you had a girlfriend?
mshh234: no
Me: never?
Me: why not?
mshh234: no no
Me: why not?
mshh234: that is gay
mshh234: i don’t want a gay sister

and then it continued…

Me: wait, i said, do you ever wish YOU had a girlfriend?
Me: not if you wish I had a girlfriend
mshh234: yes
Me: why?
mshh234: someone to talk to & play with
Me: that would be good
Me: what kind of girls do you like?
mshh234: sehnse of humor girls and love to eat
Me: do you know anyone like that?
mshh234: yup
Me: who?
mshh234: you

http://www.iqtest.dk/main.swf

shameless self-promotion…you can ignore this. I just found this press release for a festival I won at that I’ve never seen before and want a copy of. Other creative links for me.

Cojones on ifilm
(they deleted all our credits when they revamped the site, but my shitty little movie is still there. Stars the “I love you seven!” Girl from the Sorority Sprint commercial, the lovely Ms. Tina Kapousis.)

http://www.ifilm.com/filmdetail?ifilmid=114308

Commercials
www.davestroup.com

(under the Commercials section)
Match.com and Hallmark (wrote and directed)

NEW YORK INTERNATIONAL INDEPENDENT FILM AND VIDEO FESTIVAL

Press Release
The New York International Independent Film and Video Festival is the largest
festival of its kind in the world today. Founded in 1993 by Stuart Alson, this
festival has been recognized by the film and entertainment industry as one of
the leading film events on the independent festival circuit. This year the
festival went bicoastal with events in New York and Los Angeles! Our festival
delegates also have the opportunity to screen internationally at high-profile
film markets including MIFED and Cannes.

Festival Highlights We are looking forward to showcasing world premieres,
special screenings and over 100 features, shorts, documentaries and animation in
our New York festival. Highlights include AFTER THE STORM, Guy Ferland’s finely
observed story about the loss of innocence and the seductive power of greed
starring Benjamin Bratt and Armand Assante. BOROUGH OF KINGS directed by Elyse
Lewin, is a coming of age film with a mob back drop starring Olympia Dukakis and
Philip Bosco. MOMENT IN TIME directed by Robert Orlando is an intense and
beautifully shot psychological drama starring Neil Maffin and Annika Peterson.
CUBA/ISLAND OF MUSIC is a vibrant documentary by Gary Keys about the ordinary
people of Cuba who have delivered to the world one of the greatest musical
creations of modern times. The documentary profiles world renowned artists such
as Orquesta Aragon, Los Zafiros and Manolin. –

LA Winners in New York A selection of award winning films from our LA Festival
(September 21-28, 2000) will also be included in the New York showcase,
including: THE KILLING ZONE winner of the Grand Jury Prize for Best Feature, a
dark, stylized pulp thriller directed by David Diaz; BREATHING UNDER WATER
starring newcomer Alexandre Pinto who captured the award for Best Actor; Michael
DeCarlo’s WASHED UP starring daytime soap star Cameron Mathison; and ANITA
VELEZ: DANCING THROUGH LIFE written, produced and directed by daughter, Jane
Velez-Mitchell.

Shorts and animation include the perversely funny COJONES (LA Audience Award
winner) directed by Julia Sh*h; THE INVISIBLE SHELLEY, a surreal musical short
by Gary Miller who won the award for Best Directorial Debut; Nick Jameson’s
(former member of FOGHAT) filmmaking debut FORTUNE INN; THE MEAT DRAW by Jon
Shaikh starring James Fleet and Brian Hibbard is a the hilarious winner of Best
Foreign Short and SUPERFUNK & FREAKY DEE, the Grand Jury winner for Best
Animation by the talented David Cowles.

Madison Square Garden The festival begins on Friday, December 1, 2000 with our
Opening Night Exhibition and Gala Celebration at Madison Square Garden and runs
through December 11, 2000. The opening night event is an interactive “open air
market” featuring both film and art. The whole spectrum of the entertainment
industry will be in attendance including film distributors, production
companies, record labels, literary agencies, gallery owners, art dealers,
casting agencies along with international press and media. Festival participants
get an excellent opportunity to promote their work by occupying booths and
networking with key contacts in the industry.

Industry Contact Elisabeth Fraller (212) 228-4739.

Press Contact Abby O’Sullivan (212) 387-0651

Box Office and Information Contact Stuart Alson (212) 777-7100

www.nyfilmvideo.com

[jingle]

i lost my leg and it won’t glue back
i lost my leg and it won’t glue back
i lost my leg and it won’t glue back
i ain’t got another cuz my mama smoked crack.

ANNOUNCER: If you’re pregnant and you’re poor, don’t smoke crack. Your child may need duplicate limbs in the event it catches a rare, etiologically-mysterious third-world disease because it was out on the streets every night, selling crack or sex or children for drug liquor and porn money and bleeding the government of funds meant for people in higher income brackets to use in times of below-average stock market performance or really old people whose forefathers fought in the civil war rather than people who can’t get a job because they probably have a criminal record or don’t even know how to read while sharing needles and condoms with the illegals and blacks and gays and probably even the brown-skinned turbans who build weapons of mass destruction in their garages and plan to uproot the institution of monogamy in favor of somewhat homosexual probably bestial debauched sex orgies within which they simultaneously pray to false gods with unlawful names during their carnal relations in front of young children. Because crack kills lepers.

Ben Affleck and Jennifer Lopez were Hollywood’s hot couple in October 2003. Now their relationship is as cold as their careers.
COMMENTARY
By Michael Ventre
MSNBC contributor

Updated: 11:31 a.m. ET Jan. 23, 2004

Ben Affleck and Jennifer Lopez are no more, and the harsh spotlight on them fades. Now Ben can relax and pursue a more sedate coupling with Paris Hilton, while Jen is free to become the next Mrs. Michael Jackson.

Although they are seemingly through with each other, Ben and Jen surely are not finished with celebrity romance. It’s in their DNA, like poor career choices and outlandish shopping sprees. Yet civilized society is in a much better place today, because Bennifer is officially Splitsville, and citizens can now line up at the supermarket checkout stand without getting nauseous from their grinning mugs.

I doubt that either is a malicious type, bent on torturing the populace. But that’s what they were doing. For the past year and a half, they performed a tactless tango before a captive audience, and although they were roundly booed, they couldn’t take a hint and get off the stage. Until now.

Their on-again, off-again shifts in status had magazines like People and Us shuttling staff around the country like military deployments.

Reportedly, it was Jen who ended the engagement. A statement from her publicist added: “At this difficult time, we ask that you respect her privacy.” What the statement fails to mention is, if the public respected her privacy, she wouldn’t have a career.

That is what was so annoying about their union in the first place. Ben Affleck has talent. Jennifer Lopez has talent. But their greatest gifts came in self-promotion. They became famous far beyond their accomplishments, and especially as lovebirds. True, Affleck did share a Best Original Screenplay Oscar along with pal Matt Damon, but the rest of his resume’ is spotty at best. As for Jen, aside from a sparkling turn as a law enforcement agent in “Out of Sight,” which was far more the result of director Steven Soderbergh’s expertise than hers, she has been notable largely for cartoonish displays of diva-like arrogance.

So together, they represented the most repellant aspects of show business. Their on-again, off-again shifts in status had magazines like People and Us shuttling staff around the country like military deployments. They did so many television interviews and talked about their romance so freely, it was as if their relationship was a spinoff of “Project Greenlight.” I can only hope there isn’t a bad movie on the way.

Oh, I forgot. We already have been subjected to the bad movie. “Gigli” was a romantic comedy that was not romantic, comedic or profitable. That was released in August. It bombed both critically and commercially. It also represented the apex of the Ben-Jen phenomenon. Before it, there might have been pockets of resistance in certain parts of the U.S., trusting, cockeyed optimists who still wanted to invest in Ben-Jen’s future together. But when “Gigli” came out, even those holdouts turned, reacting like Enron stockholders who were left with nothing but empty promises.

This breakup puts to rest any talk of weddings. It seemed that whenever there was a ominous development in their situation, a rumor would quickly surface in rebuttal, claiming that a secret wedding was scheduled in some posh locale. These reports could have been planted by their flaks to feed the monstrous blob of publicity they created and allow it to devour everything in its path. Or they could have originated from others who could benefit, like tabloid journalists, paparazzi and resort owners. Regardless, it was yet another reason to reach for the clicker to switch channels, and for the Pepto-Bismol.

Ben and Jen probably got into this to have a little fun together, but primarily to keep their careers in high gear. Instead, it has turned each into a melancholy joke, and it will take some doing to reverse the damage.

Ben’s last movie, John Woo’s “Paycheck,” did not do well, and because of his status as Jen’s elbow ornament for the last 18 months, he is now looked upon as a marginal thespian more desirous of fame and money than respect. He is 31 years old, which means he should have known better than to declare — even as recently as a week ago — that their love for each other was strong and that they would eventually tie the knot. Maybe it comes from being a Boston Red Sox fan all his life, but sometimes you just have to face reality and accept the fact that it isn’t going to happen.

Jen has even less of a career ahead of her. True, there are still teenyboppers out there who are seduced by her meager attempts at pop music and will mindlessly shell out bucks for her next CD, but let’s be frank. This woman is an “American Idol” judge in training. Her acting career is kaput, despite her appearance in Kevin Smith’s upcoming “Jersey Girl” — opposite Ben again, albeit this time in a mercifully brief role. Her only real hope is to latch onto another superfamous boyfriend. From what I hear, P. Diddy is still single, and I don’t think Jen will need a handful of staff meetings with her people to connect the dots on that one.

Have any of you seen Whale Rider? I watched it on the plane to Japan. I love the little girl in it. She’s beautiful and her performance was amazing.

You look upon sex as an almost religious opportunity for self-dissolution and union with the universal whole. For you sex contains the seeds of enlightenment through immolation of the ego in the fires of physical passion.

It’s about something else but I realized that it’s somewhat of a description of tantric sex (though way too intellectualized, inadequate and confining). I’m always trying to describe this experience to people but can’t seem to find the words. Tantric sex is actually an energy experience, not about the crazy positions. You won’t know it until you have it and then you’ll know what I’m talking about…Something happens. It’s like you’ve disappeared and are part of the universe, yet you and your partner ARE the universe. It’s one of the most amazing experiences ever. But both people have to be absolutely “connected” for that door to open (completely emotionally, psychically naked…there’s more but I don’t know how to formulate it into words..this is an experience I have yet to find adequate words for). It’s not just emotional intimacy. It goes beyond that. You experience the connection and the beauty not only as yourself, but as your partner and as everything that exists. Suddenly, there are no boundaries ANYWHERE. You are everything and everything is you. You’re not even bound by your body anymore. It’s the ultimate in sexual experience but it’s almost a spiritual awakening through a sexual connection. And once you’ve had it, something in you opens up and you change.

A letter written by a heartbroken man to his
estranged partner

Dear Audrey:

I know the counselor said we shouldn’t contact each other during our “cooling off” period, but I couldn’t wait anymore. The day you left, I swore I’d never talk to you again. But that was just the wounded little boy in me talking. Still, I never wanted to be the first one to make contact. In my fantasies, it was always you who would come crawling back to me. I guess my pride needed that. But now I see that my pride’s cost me a lot of things. I’m tired of pretending I don’t miss you. I don’t care about looking bad anymore. I don’t care who makes the first move as long as one of us does.

Maybe it’s time we let our hearts speak as loudly as our hurt. And this is what my heart says… “There’s no one like you, Audrey.” I look for you in the eyes and breasts of every woman I see, but they’re not you.

They’re not even close.

Two weeks ago, I met this girl at Flamingoes and brought her home with me. I don’t say this to hurt you, but just to illustrate the depth of my desperation. She was young, maybe 19, with one of those perfect bodies that only youth and maybe a childhood spent ice-skating can give you. I mean, just a perfect body. Jugs you wouldn’t believe and an ass like a tortoise shell. Every man’s dream, right? But as I sat on the couch being blown by this stunner, I thought, look at the stuff we’ve made important in our lives. It’s all so superficial. What does a perfect body mean? Does it make her better in bed? Well, in this case, yes. But you see what I’m getting at.
Does it make her a better person? Does she have a better heart than my moderately attractive Audrey? I doubt it. And I’d never really thought of that before.

I Don’t know, maybe I’m just growing up a little. Later, after I’d tossed her about a half a pint of throat yogurt, I found myself thinking, “Why do I feel so drained and empty?” It wasn’t just her flawless technique or her slutty, shameless hunger, but something else. Some niggling feeling of loss. Why did it feel so incomplete? And then it hit me. It didn’t feel the same because you weren’t there, Audrey, to watch. Do you know what I mean? Nothing feels the same without you. Jesus, Audrey, I’m just going crazy without you. And everything I do just reminds me of you.

Do you remember Carol, that single mom we met at Pontins last year? Well, she dropped by last week with a pan of lasagna. She said she figured I wasn’t eating right without a woman around. I didn’t know what she meant till later, but that’s not the real story. Anyway, we had a few glasses of wine and the next thing you know we’re banging away in our old bedroom. And this tart’s a total monster in the sack. She’s giving me everything, you know like a real woman does when she’s not hung up about her weight or her career and whether the kids can hear us. And all of a sudden she spots that tilting mirror on your grandmother’s old vanity. So she puts it on the floor and we straddle it, right, so we can watch ourselves. And it’s totally hot, but it makes me sad too. ‘Cause I can’t help thinking, “Why didn’t Audrey ever put the mirror on the floor? We’ve had this old vanity for what, 14 years, and we never used it as a sex aid.”

Saturday, your sister drops by with my copy of the restraining order. I mean, Vicky’s just a kid and all, but she’s got a pretty good head on her shoulders and she’s been a real friend to me during this painful time. She’s given me lots of good counsel about you and about women in general. She’s pulling for us to get back together, Audrey, She really is. So we’re drinking in a hot bath and talking about happier times. Here’s this teenage girl with the same DNA as you and all I can do is think of how much she looked like you when you were 18. And that just about makes me cry. And then it turns out Vicky’s really into the whole anal thing and that gets me to thinking about how many times I pressured you about trying it and how that probably fueled some of the bitterness between us. But do you see how even then, when I’m thrusting inside your baby sister’s cinnamon ring, all I can do is think of you?

It’s true, Audrey. In your heart you know it. Don’t you think we could start over? Just wipe out all the grievances and start fresh? I think we can.

If you feel the same please, please, please let me know, otherwise, can you let me know where the remote control is.

I wake up. Hit the snooze. Many many many times. Sit up. Swear. Schlep to the bathroom. Take a niiiice piss. Turn on the heater and disrobe. Take my hairclip from the towel rack, then I put my hair in a bun. Turn on the shower, put on a shower cap, then proceed to look at my naked body. Sometimes I stand on the corner of the tub to get a better perspective of my lower part and say, FUUUUUUUUUUCK. Not always, fuck. sometimes it’s crap, or jesus christ. Open the shower door, which the bottom of the shower is already becoming clogged cuz that shit needs to be fixed. Once in the shower, I untie my loofah and I get the hotel body scrub that I’ve stolen. I usually drop a lot of shit. I’m always dropping shit. Loofah. Most attention is paid to the chest, definitely the upper back stomach, sometimes buttcheeks, whether they need it or not. [B (off-side): What about Nanner?] We’ll get to the Nanner later. That’s right before I get out. Then, what I’ll do is get my toothbrush and toothpaste, and begin to brush while I’m in the shower. On the odd day that I am washing my hair, I will be brushing my teeth as I wash my hair. And then as I’m spitting out the toothpaste on the tub floor which is already filled up at this point because the drain doesn’t work, but it always makes a nice little clopping sound when it hits the water. And I always watch it and say, “Oo…” And then I wash the hair and soap off my body. I proceed to grab, usually my roommates nice conditioner, making sure that the bottle is left in the exact approximation including exact nozzle position. Use the conditioner…while that is working on my hair, I get my face Loofah and my oil of olay and go to work on my face. And seeing as I don’t shave but once or twice every two weeks (seeing as I shave only once or twice when I’m gettin’ booty…) but usually I shave my armpits when they’re long. Then I will wash off my face and wash the conditioner out of my hair. The last thing I do is bend over just enough so that my face doesn’t touch the wall and let the water run through my open buttcrack, and down to clean my cooter. Shut the water off, wring my hair out, then open the door and step on the damn moss-ridden rug. Towel off my face, making sure that if I do get snot on one side of the towel, that I immediately flip it over so that I don’t have it touch any part of my body. Then I put on my face moisturizer. I usually wax my ears. I do that quite often. It feels good. Then what I’ll do is get my mandarin and mango body lotion and start with my arms, my upper chest, down to my labial lips. You know, before you dress caress type thing. I go get my cucumber eye cream and put that on so that I retain my vitality and youth. Then I spray myself with my Longing perfume, and sometimes on my box, with the caveat being, usually that goes hand in hand with when I shaved (in relationship to the fact that if I shaved, I’m probably going to get some action). Turn off the heater, open the door. The gust of smoke recedes from the bathroom. Sit on the couch, take a few deep breaths.

We followed the speech with a question and answer session (morning ritualist hereafter referred to as GIRL).

B: Do you give the cooter any special attention as far as cleaning is concerned? For example, what if you’ve taken a few extra laps the night before.

GIRL: Well, I usually just do the same thing.

B: No extra soaping or scrubbing?

GIRL: I don’t usually use soap because…soap is just too harsh on the cooter. And plus I’ve heard it doesn’t taste good.

[long awkward silence]

JAMES LIPTON: What would you like to hear God say, when you walk through those pearly gates?

so some mutherfuckin’ ho and i’m not naming any names, wakes up, decides to sleep in an extra five minutes, does her anal-rentative morning ritual that’s timed down to the minute but thinks she’s running five minutes late now so she runs out the door and doesn’t even have time to eat breakfast or verbally abuse the turtle. then she notices that the sky’s a little bluer than usual (thinks, it’ll probably be cold today) that there’s no traffic on the street and that the car clock says 7:24 and its probably because of some electrical problem with the car. then about 4 blocks later, she starts to put it all together…dumbass finally realizes she’s exactly an hour ahead of schedule. so she goes into coffee bean and curls up in a chair like a homeless person and sleeps for 55 minutes.

Loser.

THIS JUST IN: Brian has declared that I’m closet OCD because I time each step of my morning ritual to the minute and know that it takes me 18-22 minutes (but no less than 18) to get ready in the morning if I’m absolutely focused.