I'm being selfish, clearly.

I am an obsessive blogger. I seriously check the blogs that I love EVERY SINGLE DAY to see if they've updated, and it's terribly sad when they haven't but on the other hand makes my freakin' day when they have.

And it's been brought to my attention that I have not updated in a week, AND THE PEOPLE NEED THEIR INSIGHT ON MY LIFE. (Says my mom) So, let me apologize for keeping you waiting, as someone who only gets happiness from the dozen donut holes I get from Shipleys in the morning, I want to make peoples dreams come true.


Few things have happened recently.

Lets start with a star of this blog-- Front Row Junkie.

Today, we were discussing how Gifted and Talented programs in elementary school could create issues because not all kids are accepted and that makes these little whiney douches sad.

One girl raises her hand to comment that her FIANCE was in G&T in elementary school, and that sometimes she feels like he acts like he is better than her and rubs in it her face that HE is infact gifted and oh-so-talented.


Okay. Are you dating a 5th grader, ugly shirt/vest combo girl? If not, then you need to karate chop your so called fiance right in the neck. If you are feeling inferior to someone who holds on to the glory days of ELEMENTARY school, then you need to watch some freakin' Tyra Banks and get your groove back, Stella. Who the hell cares if someone thought you were talented in elementary school. Or gifted. Who cares.

(Can you tell who wasn't invited into the GT program? Heh, heh) BUT FOR REAL. I had better things to do like pinching this one girl all the time, and trying to get to her say any word that had the letter V in it because she pronounced it with a W and I thought it was my duty to America's classroom to torture her until she said it right.

Which she never did, FYI.

Sorry girl. My bad. I'm sure you are werry, werry successful now and probably got waledictorian of your highschool and maybe one day you can be Wice President of America.



I know, going to Hell. I know.

Anyway- in the midst of this GT conversation many people are sharing their opinions on it and whether or not its a good thing and ALL OF A SUDDEN FRJ YELLS OUT:

CAN WE ALL GIVE A HAND TO THE SPECIAL ED KIDS WHO GOT 100's ON THEIR MIDTERMS?!?!?!

The whole class went silent.

What?

:Whispers: :Giggles: :Blank stares:

And my teacher, bless his heart, turns to her and is like, um... what?
And she goes on to explain that she has been special ed since second grade.


IT ALL MAKES SENSE TO ME NOWWW!!!

But then this girl about 4 rows behind her gets in an argument with her about whether or not she's really special ed, and why she was mainstreamed through school and yadda yadda yadda.

The whole class was very uneasy, and laughing by this point-- like, if FRJ wants to proclaim shes special ed, then fine. Who would lie about that? Right?

But the conversation dies down, and my teacher makes us give her a round of applause for getting good grades.. or something..

I didn't clap.

No one claps for me when I do well. So no hand slaps for her. Not from me.

You're annoying, FRJ.

Well then I get home and a few hours later I see that I have an email from this lovely classmate:

I'm sure we all get lots of emails. I'm sending this one just in case I hurt someones feelings.

"I don't know the name of the pretty girl that sits behind me near the front but I surely am proud for her and her completion of the teachers test. It's a real big deal and a great accomplishment. I hope no one took offense to my shout out to special ed and my mid-term grade. I meant no disrespect by it and didn't want it to come off as a retaliation to a remark. I love our class and the many multifaceted perspective we each bring to the room. I love how we were able to use these comments to generate questions. I loved the baby pictures we got to see. Thanks for reading and thanks for being such an open-minded eclectic class."


Insightful! Interesting! Informative!

As if I don't get enough personal enjoyment from hearing you in class, now you're emailing me. That is about as awesome as chicken pox!

Thanks love! Lets do lunch.


I suppose she isn't talking to me as a part of "open-minded eclectic class."




I'm sorry, but you can't fix stupid.

If you didn't look just like me, sometimes I think I would disown you.

I love my family.

All members of the Jerry Springer clan, really.
Mom, Dad, Stepdad, Stepmom, 3 Sisters, 1 Stepsister, 1 Brother in law, 1 (Soon To Be) Brother in law, a nephew and lots of puppies.

However, one of you on this list is not on my most favored list right this second. Like, I love you mothership, because you're my mom and "YOU GAVE ME LIFE SO YOU CAN TAKE IT AWAY", but you know... the last 20 minutes with you have made me question your love for me.


Mom, darling. You're full of trickery.

My mom has always been known to set people up. She's an entrepreneur of sorts. Sometimes it works, sometimes its just funny to laugh about. But she is always on the prowl to find love for people.

Not such a bad thing, right? So why complain?

A few weeks ago, I went to Chicfila and got me a sammich, and as I handed the 15 year old puberty stricken,   pimple face boy my debit card, he handed me a gift bag, and said "Compliments of Chicfila" Then gave me my food and I left.

I thought maybe they were doing this for everyone? Or maybe I was the 100th guest in line, but I patiently waited and watched the next 2 cars go through and theyyyy didnt get a bag, so I was confused. I went home and opened up my chicken bonus and got:

2 Books (chicken related, obvi.)
A notepad
A cow Pez dispenser
5 mints
and 13 coupons for free chicken sandwiches.

Not kidding. 13.

So I called Mother Hen, as I always do, repeatedly throughout the day because I know she works for herself so she is always available to listen to me or make me look important/busy on the phone. But anyway, I called to tell her about being the luckiest person in the world and to which she replied...

"Go back and give him your number."


What? No mom, that's weird.

Just do it! He obviously thought you were cute! Just go do it!!


No. I know you think that I am going to die alone because I would rather nap than be social most of the time, but not all chicken distributors are meant to be together.

Well, was he cute? Just go back in and say hi.


Do you see where I am going with this? Call her Dr. Love. She is pretty sure that I am just brushing off all of these wonderful, single men because I am opting to live with my current circus clowns for life.

God bless you, Ma.

Which brings me to today... I have already talked to her several times about stupid things like that since I've started trying to eat healthier, I think it sucks a lot, and that my apartment smells like garbage, and that my period has lasted the entire month of March and I am pretty sure I am dying.

To which she all takes in stride and has many solutions for.

"Keep eating healthy, it's good for you." "Take out the trash."

And my personal favorite of the day "Oh, baby, I'm sorry. Just go ahead and pop out a few kids and then get all of that ripped out." Sounds like a logical solution to me.

But I am single.

And babykids don't nap like I need them to.

So we hang up from that world saving conversation and she texts me later with...

"Send me that picture of you and Kate again"

The one I sent her last week of my cousin and I on the beach, just to prove that I finally found her...

Were both in bathing suits, she's adorable and tiny and tanner than me..(even though shes from IceAgeIllinois)
And were both kinda slumped over, I have no make up on..(No make up, no eyebrows, blonde eyelashes...sexy)

But I didn't think twice, thinking that she was just going to send it to my Grandpa or someone who we both know mutually..

UNTIL


She sent back

"Im setting you up with someone"

osfihjsd;ofiah e'pfid'hipgdn;bhoppohhipyu0QE0[yDsf[T0KB IOQE Y ----Headslam.

WHAT? WHAT? WHAT? MOM! NO. You can't set me up with someone after showing them a picture that I resemble a 12 year old boy!

And she replied with a picture of said future son in law of hers

He's cheers'ing me with a glass of redwine.







You're embarrassing, Mom.

Wieners.

One day, after I had mindlessly creeped on everyone I could have via Facebook, and checked out all the blogs I find entertaining, I decided to check out a website called Chatroulette.com.


Have you ever?


Are you curious?


You should be.


I sign on, wipe the mascara from underneath my eyes and off my forehead, try to put my hair in a ponytail and look a little less frightening... which might sound a little silly, but rumor has it that some of my friends have stumbled upon Justin Bieber and Snoop Dog and IM NOT GOING TO TAKE THAT CHANCE OF LOOKING LIKE A DIRTY TRANSVESTITE GIRL SCOUT WITH NO EYEBROWS..

Snoop dog would be cool, but I have Bieber Fever. ps, Happy 17th Birthday, Baby Biebs, I know you read my blog. 




So I sign on and the first few people are just creepy old men, some blow kisses, some tell me Im fabulous, yadda yadda...

And the way this chatroulette thing works is when you dont like who you are matched up with you can click a button that will send you through outer space and put you with someone else.


I felt like a Goddess.. If someone winked at me weird, or were too slow to tell me how great I looked, I swapped their ass.


Until....


I had just bounced back from the moon and was waiting to be paired with my next child molester, secretly crossing my fingers for the slightest sign of Biebers epic side bang 'do, when I was faced with a black screen.


I thought, Oh, must still be waiting to find someone to pair me up with, so I wiped my nose from my elbow to finger tip and I guess looked a little sad...

When the black screen typed to me: "Don't cry."

Creepy, right? So I said "I'm not crying, dark black screen, I'm fine."

And he said, "Oh, you can't see me? Hold on. Don't leave yet."

I got really nervous, WHAT IF THIS WAS BEIBER AND HE WAS ABOUT TO MAKE MY DREAMS COME TRUE? WHAT IF THIS WAS JUSTIN TIMBERLAKE, OR OPRAH?


And then, the camera flicks on and I see:::

A FULL, GROWN ASS MAN, DRESSED IN A HOT DOG SUIT.


If you're curious as to what this might look like, just type "Man in hot dog suit" in Google.

As my eyes tried to focus and my brain tried to focus on what the heck was going on, he got up and began to shimmy across my screen.

I laughed so hard I kinda peed in my pants. And he stopped, saluted me, and then parted ways.


So Im back on my scan in outer space and every... 14 or so people I am paired with are not faces, not creepy men, not girls, not hot dogs... but WIENERS.


Just some nasty ol' lonely douches doing the knuckle shuffle on a webcam.

HOW GROSS ARE YOU?

So when I was so fortunate to land on someone who looked semi normal I stopped and thanked them for not showing me their wiener and we chatted a bit until they were boring or started to make me think they drove a van with no windows with the Easter bunny and Willy Wonka stuck in the back. So I would swap to someone else.


AND EVERY NOW AND THEN, I HAD THAT HAPPEN TO ME.


WHICH MADE ME FURIOUS. These guys, would appear to be just lonely retards like I was, and I would take my sausage fingers and type "Hi, how are you" and they would look up, and CLICK SWAP!


You jerk.

This made me insane. HOW DARE YOU, weird internet guy, CHOOSE SOMEONE ELSE?!




I guess they were looking for weiners.


Either the costume kind, or fa'real kind.


No more Chatroulette for this blondebombshell. Not only is it a wiener overload, but it can make you feel bad about yourself for not having one.


Jerks.