Dear Will Smith Movie,

You suck. You killed the dog, and I don't know why Jansson made us watch you. Next time, please make a more consumer-friendly movie that does not involve animal killage. After all, your prime audience is almost certainly not Michael Vick. (Too soon?)

Anyways, long story short, ... ... ... poop on you, Will Smith movie.

Love, Me

Sometimes, I don't know why I try.

Technology hates me. Pretty much anything that plugs into the wall, up to and including the hairdryer, misfires when I try to use it. Or, worse, completely falls apart or stops working entirely. The *really* fun part is when it works again when someone else tries, laughing in my face as it makes me look like a total asshole. I know I'm not perfect, and there has to be a bit of Operator Error in there somewhere, but really - I just have bad luck. It's like all the karma of the techie world crashes down upon me, smiting me as though I was the guys in "Office Space" that smashed that fax machine. Arg.





I hate you, Toshiba laptop.

Die in a fire.

Coach Meanyhead

Me: I think that guy looks mean. I don't think I'd like to work for him. Ever.

Hubby: You don't want to work for the coach of the Giants.

Me: The Giants? Jeez, honey, I don't know shit about football, but even *I* know the Giants are a baseball team.

Hubby: The New York Giants.

Me: Oh.

Hubby: I really want to see you go up to him and tell him you don't want to work for him. That would be awesome.






So, since I'll never actually meet you, Coach Not-so-nice, I'll tell you here: I quit. That's right. I don't want to work for your bitchy little baseball team. I think you're mean.