Unflappable

So yesterday, my happiness kinda hit a wall. And by wall, I mean truck. And by happiness, I mean me. I'm not 100% sure who was at fault, but for the sake of this blog, I'm gonna go ahead and say he was. My poor car. Ripped off the front bumper and messed up the front end a little bit. Nothing major, though. It still drives. I look like a hillbilly driving around with no bumper, but now I actually fit in around here. This car is like my baby, though. I don't mean in the loving way. I mean in the "I tossed it in the dumpster when I was in my early teens and now it's found its way back to me and wants to be a family," kind of way. Basically, I'm stuck with it. I ran that analogy by my mom earlier and she got mad at me. Kinda makes me wonder if I struck a nerve. Maybe I have a dumpster brother/sister somewhere. Sucks for them if I'm the one they ended up keeping.

Michael, I'm gonna need you to not be in SB this weekend, ok? Actually, I don't even know if it's a home game for them. Touchdown Jesus needs to work his magic if it is. It's getting to be pretty pathetic. I'm still going with my prediction that ND beats UCLA. I couldn't bet ND to win straight up, though. Something about them being 20-point underdogs or something.

I know this is going to make me sound like an idiot, but the words I want to go with my tattoo are inspired by a Tool song. It's this song. I don't want to get all weird on you and say that this song "changed my life," but I've probably listened to this song more than any other (except maybe Mr. Brightside...that's another post for another day.) There's a message in there that really stuck with me and kept me from taking a bath with the toaster. It's kind of hard to explain the whole thing where people can understand it. Not saying you're idiots or anything, but I haven't fully figured out how to explain it. It's one of those things that might just make sense to me. Like an omelet made out of spaghetti-os and sour cream. It has to do with where I was and where I am, how inner weirdness effects outward appearance and how some things appear to be normal and fine, but are really kinda fucked up underneath. And also how all that stuff is ok, and (CLICHE ALERT) you never know what's going to happen tomorrow. Darkest before the dawn, and all that good stuff. Here's the basis for the idea again. I'm thinking black and gray with the maybe a dark blue or dark green for the irises. Not sure about the words, though. There are only going to be two. I might take the Rev's suggestion and make a new tattoo out of the words. Also taking his advice on where to get it. I'm thinking the inside of my left bicept. I'll have to not work out for awhile, though. I don't want the needle to break when it hits the STEEL. That's right, ladies.

I want to wish a happy belated birthday to my good friend, Amanda. It's just belated on here. I don't want to toot my own horn or anything, but I'm pretty awesome at remembering birthdays (except Julie...sorry.) And also an on time birthday to my pal, "Anna." For a present, I will allow you both to send me boob pics. HAPPY BIRTHDAY! I believe you both are in your mid 20s? *wink*