How do you forget to put the crispy noodles into the shrimp chow mein? They are everyone’s favorite part, I thought.

(Upon trying to explain this to the young lady I ordered from): Will she ever understand me, or I am I gonna have to go eat slimy chow mein?

Should I make friends with the dudes who sleep on boxes near my home so they don’t ever attack me? No, familiarity sometimes makes it easier. Then you take your guard down. They hoot and holler and try to touch Asa without asking. They also make me feel uncomfortable. See: instinct, not ass^&%*.

Why is the oxygen network like Lifetime on crack, with more drama, and more addictions?

Is my hair nasty? Why is my face breaking out?

I hope work is good.

Did Asa snag my chow mein from the top of my computer like some kamikaze wonder dog? Will I have to freak out on her and cry when I get back. No, she knew.

Upon researching common interests on the web, I realized something. I have a definite affinity for the writing of men, more so than women. This is a general statement, of course, and I wouldn’t go so far as to diss the average girl. And maybe I am even dissing myself in the process. But it seems that there is a subtlety in the writing of men that makes sensitive stuff seem more sensitive, and with that, makes women’s stuff seem over dramatic and generally weaker. When I say weaker, I do not mean physically, but meaning in direct correlation to the power of the writing. Perhaps it is my more romantic brain, the part of my mind that likes to identify that those bearing dick actually have sensitive sides. Or maybe it is an element of boredom, at knowing the female mind and most identifiably female styles of writing and what to expect. This is with exception to most every girl on my friend’s list. But to search and seek out new friends, via interests and such…well, it can lead to many disappointments. And I didn’t do any search for “men who had journals”. Because that would be pointless. It just became evident while reading that their aptitudes to fore go all of the flowery drama yet say certain things succinctly that caught my eye.

How do you mess up crispy noodles? By not cooking them well enough. And they are really bad when they’re bad.

My boy is going to the pre-parties for the VMA’s. Apparently this involves red carpet walking down Dil Diddy’s Red Carpet and some Bam Margera blankity blank party or some such event. While he is carousing with crappities (celebrities), I will be here, weeding out the garbage from my treasures, wishing , though mildly there were ANY  COOL GIRLS..er even boys OUT THERE!!!!

I heard my voice bounce back from that one. I need a local best friend. And not my lover is my best friend. But a real life person I can play with. Who does not annoy me. Who does not have to lie to their significant others to hang out with me. Who has respect and a spine.

Do people like this, women or men, EVEN EXIST????

Will I go out this weekend and meet any more “prop” (fake, for show) friends again?

And finally, how insanely tired can I be?