So when I was a little girl (a lonely, only child girl) I had a handful of older cousins on my dad's side. And I was so envious of them because they were so cool that they knew the lyrics to every song. And I really wanted to be as cool as they were. So at the tender age of nine I painstaking cultivated the habit of memorizing lyrics to songs really easily. And I was really proud of that for years.

What's the point of this short trip down memory lane? There really isn't one. Just that I noticed today I still seem to memorize lyrics without realizing it.

Also that, in hindsight, my cousins were really into Chicago and Genesis.

Moving on...

I got an invite to a bridal shower in the mail the other day and it said it was for the "Bride Elect". I actually had to look up whether or not that was some sort of joke or if it was indeed a... thing.

It's a thing.

But what a weird thing. I have this image of the groom-to-be getting a large group of friends and family together and passing out ballots. And was there campaigning beforehand? Any write-in votes?

Either way, it seems like a rather dated phrase, if not a tad perfunctory. I'm not one for new age, politically-correct language at all costs or anything, but I would like it to at least appear that I had some sort of say in the matter of my becoming engaged.

But perhaps that's why I'm not getting married anytime soon.

Ah, Miss Tammy Faye. Rest in peace, little one.

For the life of me, I can not figure out why Victoria Beckham is getting so much crap in the tabloids about her appearance. I think she looks great for a 50 year old.

I've been cleaning up files on my laptop for the past few days. And am reminded that, at a certain point, I was low on drive space and just switching between applications was painful. Not only that, but I would lose files because of it. Reminded, I say, because I occasionally run into files like, "SaveYouMotherfucker.PSD" or "WhereTheHellIsThisFile.EPS" or my favorite, "IJustLost3FuckingHrs.QXD"

I'm currently painting my nails. My mom (who doesn't often wear nail polish) bought these little sampler bottles of OPI. And the color barely shows up, it seems. I tried one and it's a shade of white between clear and wite-out. In other words, a little creepy. Which is not me at all. If I'm doing anything, I'm all in, bitch. I need army green or something.

Speaking of all in, I think I'm going to cut all my hair off tomorrow. It's getting too long again. And grey. I didn't expect grey at my age.

Speaking of my age, I had an uncle try to give me a hard time about turning 30 in a few months. It didn't really take. For some reason I'm not terribly bothered by it. Maybe because I don't really look 30. I look more like mid-20s.

Of course, we'll see how I feel about all this when I actually turn 30. I'll be curled up underneath my desk rocking back and forth and whimpering.

I sent out my public service announcement for the evening. I alerted the Twin Cities community that a large metal object would be hurling downward onto parked vehicles on August 3 in the warehouse district. I feel like I did my duty.

You have not lived until you've seen an anvil thrown off a four story building onto a car. Seriously. It's kinda awesome.

I don't know what it is about restaurateurs in this town, but you really shouldn't screw them over. Case in point: Tom Pham, owner of Azia and Temple (oh such tasty food), who found that a couple who had skipped out on him at one of his restaurants was dining a few hours later in the other. He ended up confronting them and when one tried to run, he caught him and used his skills as a judo teacher to keep him down.

This comes about a year after a local pizza delivery guy chased down a would-be purse snatcher. The most appropriate part being that it was Galactic Pizza, whose delivery people wear superhero costumes whilst on the job.

In other news:

My mom came home today and was all cryptic. "Did you hear the thud?" She wouldn't elaborate. So I was guessing, "You hit something with your car." "I hit something with my car." "For gods sake, what?!"

Turns out a few doors down an enormous cottonwood tree had fallen over, completely covering the owner's front yard and the entire street. Huge!

Didn't hear a thing.

It appears to be Night of the Living Dead. Or... Undead. Or... whatever.

It's Zombie Town on SciFi!

I was feeling a little pissed off last night at my former employers. It still happens now and then. As luck would have it, one of them has a rather active anti-fan base online, so whenever I visit these sites it makes me feel better.

I actually had a dream about my old workplace the other night. My old old workplace. Before we moved to a larger building and everyone became insane.

I was sitting on the kitchen counter one day having a cup of cereal with a co-worker. Which was actually a bit of a tradition back in the day. You know those big plastic Dixie cups? Great for cereal.

So we were just chatting and eating cereal, getting ready for a day of Bibling, when our boss walked into the kitchen area. And my co-worker stopped our conversation, turned to him and said, "I've been wondering: what exactly our your body measurements?"

Which caught me totally off-guard. And slightly scared me, considering how obsessive he was about his body.

My boss stopped in his tracks, got all philosophical-like, and started strutting around the kitchen, muttering, "What are my measurements... what are my measurements... what are my measurements...". He finally stopped, turned to my friend and said, "Well Fred, you tell me. What exactly are my measurements." And proceeded to rip off his shirt and start flexing his pecs. Or delts. Whatever they're called.

Fred stammered some sort of guess, my boss corrected him (Fred being way low on how wide his chest was and way high on how narrow his waist was), and he then took off toward his office to start doing pushups.

Which seems like a pretty mundane dream all in all, except that happened.

I totally forgot, on the other hand, what happened in my dream.

I have until Friday off this week, so I decided to take my vacation day today and then work all day on the Fourth. Being contrary is just so super cool.

I was out for a walk with a friend tonight and we passed by a "We support a traditional marriage" yard sign.

Now put aside the big huge "whatever" look that crossed my face (I'm going to make it my mission to put up stupid ass signs in my yard too. I'll start with "I support wearing plaid" and eventually "I am pro-buying groceries" to complete the "Who the fuck cares" yard sign trifecta). It struck me as some sort of passive-aggresive attempt to shame a neighbor while at the same time hiding behind/in your house.

Anyway.

My friend that I was on the walk with relayed a story she heard on the radio of a local man whose neighbors put up the same sort of sign. So he decided to go and ask the neighbors—politely, eloquently, I am sure—to take it down. They didn't do it, but it made the news all the same. I have no idea what reaction she was expecting from me, but my response was, "I don't like it."

Because I don't. It might make for a good "embarassing the uptight sign-owner" story. But no matter how you might feel about the sign, the homeowner has the right to put it in their yard. Just like someone has the right to put up a rainbow flag or a sign that says "I support marriage between two people that love each other" and not be expected to take it down. That's the way things work.

Personally, I might be more inclined to put up a sign that says "I support some good ol' man-on-man lovin' " and agree to take down my sign if the neighbors took down theirs.

But that's just me.