You love my crazy flaws.

Wow. Two posts in two days. I'm on a roll. Or not.

Let's see. I've had the past two days off, and haven't accomplished anything, but spending money. I seem to be pretty good at that. I just love the rain we've received over the past few days. Or not. Every time I step out with straightened hair, it rains and my hair gets wet, and it curls up. It gets kind of wavy, then frizzy, and it's driving me nuts.

So funny story. A couple of weeks ago, my brother and I were at Hastings. We saw this bumper sticker magnet black ribbon thing that said, "Support sex, drugs, and rock-n-roll." It's similar to the yellow ribbons that people plaster on the back of their cars to support our troops, and make themselves feel better about themselves, because damn it, they have the yellow ribbon to prove it. But that's another story. Anyway, we decided that needed to be on the back side of my grandmother's Impala. We opted for the ribbon, because it was a magnet, and easy to remove when she realized it was there. It's better then the Elvis Lives! sticker my brother wanted to buy. I mean, the Elvis one was funny, but it needed to be removable without causing damage. I didn't feel like getting arrested for vandalism. Because yes, my grandmother wouldn't hesitate killing me or sending me to jail for defacing her precious Impala.

Anyway, long story short. My grandmother drove around town and to Oklahoma to a casino with this magnet on the backside of her car, for two whole days. She wasn't as mad as I thought she would be, but wasn't pleased. But hey, we've been laughing about it ever sense. Picture it, grandma, big curly head of hair (grandma style), driving ever so cautiously, stopping at every yellow light, while you honk because she's going so slow. But then you see this sticker of sorts, and start to read. And you laugh ever so loudly, out loud. You phone your friends, your friend's friends, your neighbors, anyone you think of. Because that my friends. Is funny as hell. I've been watching my back though, because she's out to get me. I can feel it.

Mom turned 51, which means I'll be 23, which means before I know it, I'm 30. And that's the end as I know it. Scream for me. Okay so 30's not so bad. I think 40 will be the tough one. Because when your 50, the sex is supposed to be great. Right? Someone prove this.

6 days..................................................

Peace out.