E-how's article about Texting

As I'm working on a new Hung-over Highlights entry (and this one is juicy let me tell you!), I'm also working on adding quotes in front of every entry. These a lyric that explains the writing, actual quotes from our "quote of the day calendar" (I sheet of paper where we put most of our memorable quotes from freshman year. It was supposed to become a calendar eventually), or just something interesting enough to put in front of the post. So I was looking through for something to put in front of "In Another World Wherever You Go." Flat out, this touches on the frustration you feel whenever someone you're trying to have a conversation with is in their own little world, and this person is so oblivious to how rude it really is. I mostly mean the annoyance of the constant texters. Give it a rest! So I was looking for a study or anything about texting and I came across the eHow directions of "Breaking Your Texting Addiction." It's hilarious. Go check it out. I would love to include this in my book.
http://www.ehow.com/how_5111618_break-texting-obsession.html

Drunken Diaries, Entry #3: Live Streaming

Apparently, I had completely forgotten about this one until I rediscovered it this evening. It's not so much a lesson I learned, and there's no real observance of any kind. Really, it's just a stream of (un)consciousness. I think it might be closer to most drunken thought than the others. Who knows if this will eventually end up in the book. Whether it does or not, I think it's got at least a tiny bit of entertainment value for the moment:

Saturday, August 8, 2009

Oh no I’m drunk. I’ve got to go to Chattanooga tomorrow for work. My boss is taking a bottle of wine so I guess it can’t be the worst thing ever.
I am the coolest shit ever. I’m looking at awful senior pictures from my high school yearbook. P.S. I’m the cutest baby ever and Aaron is making fun of it. My new name is Mojo. Shut up my senior picture is awful. What? I look 40? There’s no way. Ouch. This is shitty. Now I’m getting quizzed on my high school superlatives. Fuck that. I would have won most sarcastic but it got cut in favor of easiest to take home to mom. Shut up Aaron, my teacher signed it. Suck it. Don’t make me read that again. I have a twin. “that’s a good picture of you and Annie and you” Totally. Mars Attacks rocks.
We spent 1.5 hours playing Grey’s Anatomy for the Wii. It’s awful but I want to finish it.
The fact that my exhaust fan is the first button of the two on my bathroom is annoying. Duh. I want to turn on the light every time I use the facility, and I only want to use the fan every handful of times. Whoever designed this is dumb.
I didn’t sleep worth a shit last night so I hope to pass right out tonight. I already got Friends on and it’s fantastic.
Oh wait, I saw my old boss and my assistant coach this evening at the bar. Not that that is especially note worthy, but I didn’t really get hit on much tonight. There was the older (like 40 year-old) guy that asked to buy my drink when we were leaving but that was it. This is getting ridiculous! I’m damn cute and I spent a decent amount of time grooming myself tonight.
I’m hungry. It’s awful to eat at 2:00 a.m. but I don’t care. What the fuck am I going to eat though? McDondad’s sounds great but I can’t drive anywhere. God—cheeseburger.
Damn I want to watch True Blood. I want to watch True Blood in bed with my double cheeseburger that I got for a dollar.
I would totally settle for a grilled cheese, but I don’t want to make it. Ugh I guess I will drink water and go to bed hungry. Oh no, have to pee. End of diary.

Drunken Diaries, Entry #2: WTF

Entry #2: August 1-August 2

Wtfwtf. All the guys that hit on me tonight have been to jail, or so I’m told by the birthday buddy that went bar hopping with us tonight. He’s from the town we’re at the bars in so he knows the dirt. Do I look like jail bait?—wait, don’t answer that. I mean really. Here’s the thing: do not ask me to buy your beer and then say I have pretty eyes. It’s the other way around if you even want to have a chance. Also, shouldn’t it be the other way around. I’m not necessarily old fashioned, but damn. Buy me a drink, you asshole. Then, wtf. Dude comes up to ask me to dance and then some girl comes to talk to him as he sits at the table. And not just to say hi, no, no. This girl has a few minute conversation with him and I’m just sipping away on my cocktail. WTF, girl? I know the routine—come around to explain some emergency or make me jealous—but doesn’t that happen when the guy is the one who doesn’t initiate the dance? You don’t need to save him, he asked me you ass-hat. Naturally, I want to know what the fuck that is so I say, “What the hell was that?” Seriously, the dude buries his head in his hands after finishing his Corona (with no lime might I add. That should have been a sign!). he says he can’t shake her. I think it’s weird. Coincidentally, the lights came up for last call while she was talking to him. Apparently that cleared up the any blurriness from my booze goggles and I realized I probably didn’t want to dance with him in the first place. I’m then informed as we’re leaving that he’s loaded, but he’s been to jail only once. OMG, do we have a winner? No. Shit. I guess I got to go back and try again. Damn, and I actually took the time to do my hair and put on makeup—and I fucking hate makeup. Am I in desperate for a man? By all means, no! Am I wanting to get laid? Well, that wouldn’t be terrible. Do I like to get asked to dance or have a drink bought for me? Well, hell yes I do. The way to my heart is through vodka and just a little bit of hip swinging. Shit, I usually don’t do dancing, but something about the liquor makes my ass move like a cyclone… or a psycho. I guess it depends on how much I’ve had.
Oh no. In all this, I’ve nearly forgotten that I have to work tomorrow—tomorrow is a Sunday. Fuck me! Not that I use that day to stop and contemplate the presence of the Lord or whatever. But no, I use that day as a day of rest. I make myself a good breakfast and chill out. I don’t even work out or clean on Sunday mornings. That’s saying something from the neat-freak workout junkie. I make pancakes and sit on my ass in bed. Hell, I guess I could still do that tomorrow. I don’t have to be at the water park until noon or so. Yeah, what a job, huh? Go to a water park to tan and swim while pausing for about 10 minutes to play a duck in a puppet show. That doesn’t mean that I like working on Sundays. I hope there are cute boys there. And when I say boys, I mean the ones my age. I don’t need any more of this 16 year-old lifeguard bull shit. You still have baby fat and the girls that played on my softball team this year want you. I can’t compete with that. I’m like the ultimate 15 year-old with tattoos and piercings you can’t get until you’re at least 18. show me the 20 somethings please! And no radio personalities. Apparently they don’t know how to charm someone via text message. P.S. doing so by asking for suggestions on how to get rid of an erection before bed is not the way to score a date. Loser.
Oh, want to know what sound a catfish makes? Wait, of course you do. What a stupid question. Meow-gurgle.
Goodnight!