Just A Small Town Girl - random tid bits

The other night I chose to pick Journey's "Don't Stop Believing" on a jukebox that had a bunch of unclaimed credits. Who in their right mind would leave eight songs worth of credits on a jukebox in a dive bar? Anyway, the second the song came on the entire mood of the bar shifted. Suddenly everybody was best friends with everybody. People were singing arm and arm with people they had never met before. Nuns were dancing with their tops off. The bartender was giving free drinks to underage kids. Some hillbilly brought a hose in from outside and orchestrated an impromptu wet t-shirt contest atop the broken billiard table. I couldn't help but feel like a bit of rockstar since I, and I alone, had chosen this particular ballad. Needless to say when the Too Short songs came on that some young hooligans picked on the jukebox the bar emptied out in a matter of milliseconds.

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Dear Barnes & Noble,

Why the hell do you have an escalator in your store that only goes up forcing us lazy asses to walk down the staircase directly next to the escalator. OK, truth be told, I am not so much "lazy" as I am a man of luxury. I want to be transported up and down one level to the next without exerting any energy.


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Dear A-Hole,

Why must you park like a douche bag? Is it so hard to keep your vehicle in between the white lines? The sixty other cars in the parking lot didn't seem to have any trouble with it. There would have been sixty one cars (my car being the sixty first) parked in there if you weren't such a dill hole. At first chance please hurl yourself off a twenty foot high spring board into an empty Olympic sized swimming pool.


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Myspace. Why couldn't I have invented that?


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I'm sure I am not alone in the fact that I receive random emails with promise of enlarging my penis or enhancing my sexual performance. You know, with the typical ever enticing slogans such as "Add 28 inches length to your scrawny sad little pathetic penis!" "Now you can stick it to you lady under the table while having dinner at the local Taco Bell." "Guaranteed to last longer...you'll be thrusting like Lionel Ritchie, ALL NIGHT LONG!"




Yeah, you know you've seen these emails. Unfortunately, they are here to stay. We must embrace them. What concerns me, however, is the lack of emails advertising vagina enhancement. Your inbox never receives messages advertising services on how to "Show your man you love him and return to the tightness of Prom Night!" or whatever.

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While typing this gibberish I have managed to listen to "Don't Stop Believing" at least 12 times in a row. I Am A Rockstar!

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So, I have set a goal to write one blog a day for a week straight. Self promotional blogs do not count. The idea is to write more. I started this blog with the intention of writing random bullshit that might be funny and it has slowly transformed into a promobloggy. Wish me luck. One down, six to go. Five minutes to post. Also, I encourage you to jump in on this action. Start right now. Write one blog a day for a week straight. Who knows what kind of magic can happen. Three minutes to post. Time to copy and paste. See you tomorrow.