Several years ago, I met a great guy on an airplane. We hit it off right away and talked for the entire eight-hour flight. We shared a cab from the airport and exchanged phone numbers. Two days later, he called me for a date.

At 5:30 in the morning.

"Are you up yet, Susie?" he shouted into my answering machine. "Are you awake? Why aren't you talking to me, Susie?"

Needless to say, this totally creeped me out. Of course, I refused to call him back. Don't encourage him, I told myself.

But two days later, he called again -- this time at 5:15. And at 5:40. And again at 6:07. "Susie, why aren't you listening ot me? Susie, I need you to be there, goddamn it!" he shouted.

After I unplugged my phone in a panic and arranged to get an unlisted number, I lived in a state of anxiety for a week: After all, the guy knew where I lived.

But eventually my fear grew into fury. Why should I be the one losing sleep? I thought. Why should I be staying at a friend's house and peering over my shoulder whenever I picked up my mail?

And so I called him back and confronted him.

At 4:30 in the morning.

"Are you up yet?" I screamed. "How dare you call me at five a.m.? Don't you have any goddamn manners? No one is to treat me that way, do you understand? What the hell is your problem?"

Oh, I went on the warpath. For twenty minutes, I ranted and raved. I was the Medea of MCI; I made Joan Crawford look like Mommie Teresa. I was vicious; I was hysterical. I was a lunatic.

And lemme tell you, Girls, I was the bomb. Because I scared the living shit out of him.

"Please calm down," he begged. "Please don't freak out."

Poor guy. Whatever psychodrama he'd been dreaming up, it certainly hadn't occured to him that I might want to audition for the psycho role.

Of course, I never heard from him again -- despite the fact that Bell Atlantic sure took its sweet time changing my number.

For all their bravado, almost nothing terrifies guys more than being yelled at by a hysterical woman. They'll do almost anything to avoid having us go ballistic. As soon as they even see us starting to steam, they back off like maniacs: "Okay, just calm down. Calm down, Lady. Don't get all bent out of shape here."

In their minds, really, we're all just a few steps away from turning into that bunny-cooker in Fatal Attraction.

~ from Kiss My Tiara: How to Rule the World as a SmartMouth Goddess by Susan Jane Gilman.

this is one of the funniest and coolest books i have ever read. it's in the top three. i think i'm going to buy like fifty copies and just hand them out to all my girls for birthdays/christmas/whatever. this author is my hero. excuse me, heroine.

if you don't want to wait for me to give it to you for your birthday or christmas, then BUY IT NOW, DAMMIT.

“People dressed this child up as a suicide bomber just as in people in Britain might dress a child in their favorite soccer team’s strip,” said Palestinian Labor Minister Ghassan al-Khatib.

suicide bomber; soccer player. yeah...that's the same.

take the cher test.


and go to mewing.net. because laura isn't cher.


hehehehehe.... cute.





take the death quiz.


and go to mewing.net. laura = great.


not so cute, but still morbidly funny.





because i thought this picture was pretty, laura of mewing.net told me this: "you are a sadistic, bunny-lovin', froot-loop-eatin' warrant fan. you are either a truck driver or will be a truck driver within the next ten years. your favorite holiday is christmas, because you like to eat the tree. you may or may not have a moustache. you may or may not have your nipple pierced."
whatever will laura tell you??


wow... this laura girl sure is a loopy one. my kind of gal!! ;D

i'm so bored. i really really don't want to do my homework. ugh. i really need to stop taking these three hour naps when i get home from ohlone. they're totally screwing up my sleep schedule. but i just...can't...help it.

justin's so cute. as usual. his idea of kissing you is to lick your cheek. it's really quite disgusting. so, naturally, my mother keeps trying to get him to kiss me. and i always squirm away. i mean, i'm always wearing foundation. i might as well hand him my foundation stick and let him stick that in his mouth. and he would too. he'll eat anything. hand him a toy, he'll eat it. hand him his blanket, he'll eat it. hand him his left sock, yeah he'll eat that too.

you know what's really funny? since i've been home, i've actually watched less tv than when i was at ucsd. which is weird since there're like hundreds of channels more at home. hmm... oh geez, it's 11 and i still haven't started my homework. this three hour class at ohlone is the most boring thing. staring at a blank wall would get me more excited than this class. i swear, my leg muscles totally atrophy everyday in that class. three hours...geez.

okay, i'm gonna go not do my homework now. bye.

One evening after work, a man drove his secretary home after she had a little too much to drink at a party. Although nothing happened, he decided not to mention it to his wife. Later that night, the man and his wife were driving to a movie when he spotted a high-heeled shoe hidden under the passenger seat. Pointing to something out the passenger window to distract his wife, he picked up the shoe and tossed it out of his window.

They arrived at the theater a short time later and were about to get out of the car when his wife asked, "Honey, have you seen my other shoe?"

hahahahahahaahahahaaa...ahhh....

ohmygod...i just took a two hour, forty five minute nap. and the dreams. weird shit, man. but god, did it feel good. now i'm gonna go have myself a drink and start my homework.

first day of summer classes at ohlone. so very boring. three hours of listening to the teacher talk about literature. ugh. i'm surprised i didn't fall asleep. and there was this really annoying indian girl who wouldn't shut up and had the stupidest ideas. she actually repeated something the teacher had said like two minutes ago and made it sound as if she had thought up this brilliant idea all by herself. hope the teacher doesn't add her.

highlight of my day: playing with the boys. they're my highlight of everyday. ;D justin (the one-year-old) invented this new game. it's called let's-throw-all-my-toys-out-of-my-playpen. it was a pretty amusing game for him. soon, the family room looked like one huge playpen. but i reinvented the game so now it's let's-gently-hand-cherry-all-the-toys-in-the-playpen-and-she-will-place-them-outside-the-playpen. this version was much more fun and less painful for me and my mother. now duy (the three-year-old; his name is pronounced like "huey" but with a "y" instead of an "h") - his game was not so amusing. it was called let's-poo-all-over-the-family-room. okay, well, it wasn't really ALL over the family room, just like, in a part of it. it was still highly unamusing though. especially for my mother who had to clean it all up. i was fortunate enough to be upstairs when it happened and so i just heard about this from my mother.

oh...so sleepy. going to go eat and then nap and then perhaps do homework. perhaps.

in a fit of boredom, i broke out the curling iron and [very unsuccessfully] curled the sides of my hair. nevermind the fact that only the front half of my hair is a curled mess cuz i was too lazy to curl the back, but now my hair smells like garlic bread.