Last night, I dreamt I had chlamydia.

My birthday is in twenty days! (October 4th, to be exact. Buy me presents.) I'm going on a cruise on October 5th to celebrate. If I never come back, I probably fell overboard.

I hate Kyle MacDonald. I don't know if it's a jealousy issue or what, but I just want to kick him in the crotch and stick an unbent paperclip in his right eye.

Three days of the week, my classes start at 11 AM. The other two days, my first class is at 2 PM. I'm such a non-morning person that 11 AM is actually a bit early for me. This is evident in my appearance. For 11 AM classes, I pull my hair into a ponytail, throw on jeans, a baggy t-shirt, and flip flops. Contrastingly, I can be seen prancing to my 2 PM classes in heels, with nicely straightened hair, and a full face of make up.

My car just doesn't do anything for me anymore. I mean, yeah, I still look at her tight little ass sometimes and think, "Damn, my car's got a nice rear" but that's not enough. I want to squeal with delight everytime I see my car. Anyway, I need to think of a car I want that the guy who gave me 23 of my chromosomes can actually afford. The SLK's updated body style is cute and within reach, but it's not squeal worthy.

Oops. I got off track and now I can't think of anymore random snippets.