sleep texting

Sleep texting it like sleep walking but for lazy people who don't like talking on the phone. On Saturday morning I was having a very realistic dream where I wrote a check for $180. I texted my Mom not to cash the check I had just written her because I didn't want the $180.00 one to bounce. This was at 5:30 in the morning. We wrote back and forth like three times. Then I called my Mom later in the day and she asked me what the check was for. I had no idea what she was talking about. I have money problems in my dreams. For which I feel the need to text my Mom. This was the first time in weeks that I had a really sound sleep. Yikes.

I wish I was creative

I found a cool website. Well I didn't, but one of my favorite bloggers did! It's called Sleeveface, and it's three shades of awesome.

Also my pretty much favorite blogger ever can be found at www.j-walkblog.com

chikity check it

-Dirty Diana

Michael Jackson

OK, freakish? Yes. Abnormal? Yes. Most likely driven insane by his fame, popularity, media, and stunted maturity? Definitely. Complete and utter musical genius? Without a doubt.

Of course he freaks me out, and whatever he has done in his personal life I either don't want to know the truth about or would like to believe is just media hype. He's a weirdy that's for sure. However, he is an icon for hundreds of reasons and his music is legendary. I don't know if I'm really sad about it, but I am surprised.

I can distinctly remember dancing around when I was young in my parents' living room to Thriller. Amazing album. And I'm pretty sure I only listened to his Number Ones album for my entire Junior year of High School.

We have lost a legend.

I'm just not that into it

OK so here's the thing. Last Spring I was kinda seeing a guy. Then I was kinda NOT seeing a guy. Then I went to camp and still wanted to talk to the guy all the time but couldn't. Then I started wanting to order books online (along with various other things) so that I could get packages in the mail. The only mail that I ever got was from KJW and it was awesome drawings that I have until this day. So long story short, along with Chuck Palahniuk books, Twilight, and some vitamins I believe, I got He's Just Not That Into You. So I read it and there were literally chapters that I felt could have been headed "Hey Diana, this part is about YOUR life." Apparently my issues are universal, I thought I was at least cool enough to have original issues. Lame. So anyways, I read the books, thought "huh, OK" and pretty much put it out of my head. THEN THEN THEN, they came out with a movie. So I watched the movie and HATED IT! The book's message was basically, "hey be practical, don't listen to all those stories your friends tell you that are completely ridiculous, don't settle on guys that you are not really happy with." The movie had the same message until about the last three minutes and then they turned it around JUST like all over romantic comedies with the whole "never give up, he's out there, even that married guy you're dating will OF COURSE break up with his wife for you" bullshit. Good lord.

Shining point, Ben Affleck was HOTTT. Three Ts.

the crib!

OK, spoke to the landlord on the phone, I have until next Friday (the 19th?) to go look at the apartment and decide if I want to live there. I can tell pretty much unequivocally that I DO want to live there, but I suppose it makes sense to look at it none the less. She however ask me several semi embarrassing questions that make me an excellent renter,

1. Can you afford the cheap rent I will offer you?
2. Do you have a job?
3. Can I call since you may be lying about this job?
4. Do you live all alone with no room mates or LIVE IN BOYFRIENDS!?!?
5. Do you have any animals, which I countered with, CAN I HAVE A KITTY!?!? (The answer was yes by the way, except it can't be a tom cat that I don't "fix. My thought those was 'who the ef wants or even like tomkat, one's too short, and one's Katie Holmes)

So all in all pretty good convo. Now I just have to go take a peeksy and start packing all my shit. I hate moving and packing, so if anyone would like to volunteer to come up and help me move I would greatly appreciate it. I tend to pay any love birds who help me this way with loads of pizza and beer. Pretty sweet deal if you ask me. Plus you can meet Sean Connery, or Sean-Con as Rachel calls him already. He will look like one of these little noodles:

Dream men

A small smattering of boys I loved in my childhood:

And yes, all of the New Kids, except that weird tall one, if I could cut him out I would have. Also Joey, I never really loved Joey, BUT all the rest ...

GAHHHH

So apparently my friend's landlady is "very interested" in me. AWESOME. You know that this means I'm just one step closer to have a kitten named either finlayson or sean connery. Both for either a boy or girl. THEN I can officially grow into an old cat lady AND watch it do really cute stuff like this:


or something like this:


Oh Sean Connery, you skamp