I had the most fascinating dream last night. Equal parts disturbing and hilarious, I dreamed about these guys who liked me in high school. For some reason, I tend to have this remarkable ability to attract, shall we say, the quirky guys. One wore all black and stared at me from across the room. He left notes in my locker and kinda freaked me out. There was another who was really smart, insanely hyper and seriously annoying. He finally told me (two years after high school) that the reason he constantly argued with me was because he had a crush on me. Lovely.

The third was this sweet, adorable guy who was my friend. Blond and blue-eyed, he loved computers (ooo.. plus!) and always seemed to be in a good mood. I dated a football player at another school, though, and wasn’t interested in my friend in that way at all. But I knew he liked me. Everybody did.

Two years after high school, he’d grown five inches, put on some muscle and become insanely jaded about the world. And he didn’t have a problem making a play for me—the shy, insecurity of high school had flown right out the window. He turned out to be a fantastic kisser, but while both of us wanted something more, I had moved by that time and was only visiting. He’d only taken a few college classes, and wasn’t interested in going back for more… so I suggested he fly out to where I was, just for a little while, and see if he liked it. He liked that plan, but never followed through. You see, I mean seriously jaded, and I’m kinda glad he never came out here. He’s been depressed for awhile, and I can’t help him.

Anyway, so it’s down to the wire for me. I go home in six weeks and I know I’m going to see two of them. I don’t know what will happen exactly, but I’m nervous. The last I heard, he had bought a condo and switched jobs. He wanted me to move back, and in, with him. That’s not going to happen, but when we’re around each other, something inevitably does.

My dream? We were back in high school, but we were the people we are now. And it didn’t work there, either.

Probably a damn sign.

My sister never emails. Ever. Or for that matter, calls really. So an email from her can’t be good news.

My dad got in a car accident this morning—he’s OK, no worries. He drives a Jeep you know. 😛 Teenage girl nailed the passenger side, and probably totalled her car.

The first time I remember my dad getting in a car accident was many, many years ago, when he had a little car. He was all of two minutes from our house when a drunk driver nailed him at an intersection one cold, rainy, Sunday morning. He had to be pried from the car, but fortunately only suffered minor injuries… broken ribs, bruised organs, etc. I was maybe nine at the time, and all I remember was my sister was mad she didn’t get to go with him on his rounds that morning. (On Sundays, before church, we sometimes went with him… mainly because the nurses loved us and gave us ice cream at 8AM. 🙂 ) Had she gone that morning, she wouldn’t have made it. His car was obliterated.

That’s when he bought his first Jeep. And when he decided that his daughters would only ever drive Jeeps—as long as he had any say about it.

With all the accidents my sister and I have gotten into—her, seven at least (including an incident with a school bus and a guard rail), and I, three (two tiny, one major)—my dad has always been glad he got us Jeeps.

I just got off the phone with my mom—apparently my dad is at the dealership where we’ve purchased all of our vehicles (and then some) and they’ve handed him the keys to the new 2006 Grand Cherokee something-or-other to drive while his is being worked on. My mom’s guess? “He’ll probably just upgrade at this point—after driving it, you know he’ll want it.” 🙂

This will be vehicle number 13 we’ve gotten from there (including my sister’s ex-husband’s family who got two)… don’t you think there should be a “Buy 13, Get 1 Free” deal? lol

House with Bride, $600,000

Say it with me now… oh my god.

Don’t ask. They were cute. I succumbed.

They’re both Rhesus Macaques, but Andi has a little bit of jellyfish in her. Weird, yes, I know.

Andi, the first cloned monkey with an artificial gene inserted.

Tetra, the first cloned monkey.

And where did I find this nonsense? I thought you’d never ask… Famous Monkeys Throughout History.

Shut. up.

I’m sorry, but this is just damn entertaining. Wal-Mart has a war room. And it’s packed with political consultants.

Apparently they’re the targets of two watch groups, Wal-Mart Watch and Wake Up Wal-Mart, and now there’s a film about to air Wal-Mart: The High Cost of Low Price.

I don’t know why, but I’m highly disturbed by this whole debacle. Did you know that on average, Wal-Mart’s fulltime employees only make 17,500 a year? That’s ridiculous.

Personally, Wal-Mart bugs me. The staff tend to be rude, annoyed that they are there and that you are there, and the other shoppers are as well. Screaming children, crowded aisles and slow cashiers doesn’t make for a fun experience… but the low prices on cleaning supplies and Diet Coke and bottled water. Sigh. It’s a tough call.

So, who shops at Wal-Mart? And why?

A day set apart to honor all of the saints, even those not known by name.

I love this holiday.

It reinforces what I have known since I was wee.

That I, in fact, am a saint.

Because someone laughed, I should explain—it’s because I was born on this day, OK? Brat. 😛