Too tired to write the post today

You may think you have a "bad birthday" story. You don't. I have a "bad birthday" story. I will share it in my next story, but as a sneak peak...

My mom forgot my birthday... but remembered my twin brother's. And yes, we are born on the same day.

I'm gonna be one rich nerd.

I am uncool. I'm a geek and a nerd. Even with that being cool nowadays, I'm still uncool. For a split second, I thought I was cool. But that was the week when everything cool became uncool and everything uncool became cool. Instantly I became uncool. Again. I'm okay with that, I've come to terms with it. But because I like to know what the cool people on the radio are talking about when they talk about the rich, famous and cool people gossip, I try to keep myself up to date with all the fads and media frenzies.

Last month that meant knowing all the Sarah Palin jokes and rumors.

This month it means being obsessed with Twilight, and the proceeding books.

I've read the first book, and complained that it was way too much like high school. I like you! But we can't be together. I love you! But it can't work out, what would people say? I can't live without you! But I want to eat you. Just like every other nauseating high school romance. (By the way, I feel that way about Romeo and Juliet too.)

Because I am trend slut, I read the second book. It was just like the first book, but with Werewolves. Werewolves are always an improvement.

With hope of more werewolfiness, I read the third book. Werewolves! Vampires! FIGHTING! Finally, this getting good. But wait... what is this marriage crap?

And now, because I've devoted so much time into the other three books, I'm reading the fourth book. Romeo and Juliet have gotten married, and Juliet has found herself knocked up.

I have a great idea for a best selling "young adult" novel. Find a Sailor Moon fan fiction, that's written by a 14 year-old girl. The age is very important, because she has to be at the age where she's getting nervous that she hasn't been kissed yet. (After all, her idol Sailor Moon, had already found her soul mate/Prince of the Earth by the time she was 14!) Change all of the names in the story. You won't have to worry about removing all the Sailor Moon-action parts, because no such parts exist in stories written by lonely 14 year-old girls. Change the title.

That's it.

Best seller, guaranteed.

Vegans aren't allowed in Baconia.

Austrians are from Austria.

Indians are from India.

Baconians are from Baconia.

For years, possibly an entire decade, my twin brother, RadioActiveSlog had a problem with Canada. It wasn't the cheap medication, or the lower drinking age, those are awesome. He just couldn't get over the fact that people from Canada are referred to as Canadians. Shouldn't the country be named Canadia? Or the people be Canadans? That was his augment.

No punch line to this punch. Just a bitter, unsatisfied taste in your mouth. Sorry, I'll try better next time.

Letters to a Marine - 6

While my twin brother is away at Marine boot camp, I'll be writing him weekly letters. Because I share everything with you, I'll also post them on my blog. Enjoy!

This weeks letter was written inside the birthday card I sent him.

Happy Birthday Twinkie!

Can you believe it was just 23 years and eight months ago that we were just sperm floating and swimming around a testicle? And just 23 years ago we were sea monkeys in our mother's stomach?

Look at how much we've grown!

Love and Miss you,
Suicidal Jane

I love Fridays.

Even though gas has drastically gone down in price ($1.89 a gallon here), my job offers it's employees the opportunity to work four - ten hour, days, instead of the usual five - eight hour, days. It lets us save money on gas, driving to and from the office adds up. Which means I get a three day weekend, every weekend. Pretty sweet, I know. The only drawback is, when I come back on Monday, my inbox is beyond overflowing.

However, I have come up with a solution. I've hired a temp to do my work for me, each Friday. Her name is Terry the Temp/Pirate.

Melissa Joan Hart - on DRUGS!

Back in the late 90's, I remember watching Sabrina, the Teenaged Witch reruns on TV with my mom. I'm not sure if you're familiar with the show, but the concept was Sabrina, played Melissa Joan Hart, is a teenager as well as a witch. Comedy ensues. It wasn't a particularly well written series, but one episode has always struck a chord with me.

Season 2, Episode 15: Finger Lickin' Flu

Not only is the title a little gross, but it just about drove my dear sweet mother insane. Sabrina gets a witchy version of the flu. Near the beginning of the episode, Mrs. Quick, her teacher, notices that Sabrina looks ill, and offers to give her some medicine from the large medicine box Mrs. Quick keeps in her desk drawer. (Mrs. Quick is a bit of a hypochondriac.)

Just retelling this scene and my mother starts to foam at the mouth. As a woman who pulled her children from public school, in order to school them at home, because of absurd rules, she can't wait to rant about how all public schools in the USA insist that all medication be distributed by the school nurse. No student or teacher should have any medication in their desk, locker or person. A student who is caught with so much as a cough drop can be suspended.

She'll scream, she'll cry, she'll claw at your eyeballs with her finger nails.

This is about the time, I like to say... "Mom. Melissa Joan Hart is 26 years old. Playing a 16 year old girl, who is a witch. And you're upset that a history teacher is passing out aspirin. Re-evaluate your priorities."

Like quit worrying about paying for Monkey Lord's root canal and get your Internet back up! How else will you read this post?

Walmart - shop here you sinners.

This is Walmart's new logo. But what is that symbol at the end? What happened to the smiley face? It looks like birth control.
Walmart wants you to have premartial sex.

Mr J doesn't have mono.

Last week, Mr. J grew a cyst under his tongue. It was diagnosed as mono.

Okay, I'm the one who diagnosed him. Sure I'm not a doctor, but I watch actors play doctors on TV. Shouldn't that qualify me?


Mr. J said it was a tumor, and that he'd named it Karl. (Which is the name of one my ex-boyfriends. All too fitting.)


Yesterday, we went to the doctor to find out what it was, and how to get rid of it. Turns out it was just a clogged saliva duct, full of food and dead skin cells. Pretty gross right? It gets grosser. I have a picture.

They cut it open and hopefully removed all of the stuff clogging the duct. And an hour later we were enjoying sushi. (Well, I was enjoying sushi, Mr. J was enjoying sushi and vicodin.) But honestly, does thinking about raw fish make that picture any less gross?

I don't think so either.

Letters to a Marine - 5

While my twin brother is away at Marine boot camp, I'll be writing him weekly letters. Because I share everything with you, I'll also post them on my blog. Enjoy!

Wombie!

Thank you for the birthday card, it was very sweet. It’s currently on display at my cubicle, at work. Which is just as prestigious and the Smithsonian, if not more.

In case you’ve been wondering, I am proud to announce that I do NOT have cancer. You may not have known that this was a concern of mine, but ask your bunk mate. He knew about it. I’d given up getting a letter from you, so started writing to him instead. (By the way, he has lovely penmanship.) But now that you’ve finally validated my existence, I’ll let you do the honor of informing Recruit Joe B. Franklin.

Aside from the whole not having cancer thing, life in the Duke City is dull. I’ve been trying to turn my life in a medical drama, with me as the diagnostic genius. This week’s episode Mr. J thinks he has a tumor under his tongue, but it turns out to be mono. Not quite as thrilling as House, but I’m on a budget.

So what was it like there when Obama got elected? You did know about that, right? You’re not that isolated from the outside world, are you? Are parts of this letter going to be edited with black censor marker?

Did you lie about joining the Marines? Are you actually in prison?
I’ll see you when you get out of the pokey.

Love and Miss you,

Suicidal Jane

Only cowards are anonymous.

Conversations from Casa de Rising Sun.

Suicidal Jane: "Do these pants make my butt look big?"

Mr. J: "No, why?"

Suicidal Jane: "How about this shirt, does it make me look pregnant?"

Mr. J: "No, why?"

Suicidal Jane: "Does my blog make me look fat?"

And he can't say anything. Because I got left a comment telling me that yes, my blog makes me look fat.

But you know what Anonymous commenter. I like my size. It gives me these!!!!

Bruce Campbell signed my boobs!

Not Another Bond Movie!

Quantum of Solace is the new James Bond movie coming out later this month.

Which has got me thinking.

In every Bond movie, there are two obligatory Bond babes. One of these girls is a villain, and the other works the light side of the force. Wait... wrong movie. The bad Bond girl sleeps with James Bond almost immediately upon meeting him. She can't seem to pull down her panties fast enough. (She'd save time if she went commando.) And as a consequence to her sluttiness, she will die in the next few minutes in the movie. But the good Bond girl is saving herself until the end of the movie, so the credits can scroll up her spine.

So my question is... Who was better in bed? Was Bond just sleeping with the good Bond girl, because she was the only girl around?

Please vote on the sidebar.