Ewww, okay mental note, white sugar and a bland orange slice do not equal a good fruit juice substitute for purposes of mixed drinks. I hope that vodka I poured in the sink helps clean the pot or something, because I sure didn't get anything out of it. I should ask my sister for advice. I think mixing drinks is something like makeup, where I am constitutionally incapable of doing anything even vaguely approaching a good job. Case in point: screwing up a screwdriver.

Har, har, I know.

Biology teacher was discussing home remedies for yeast infections today. I'm telling you, there is no danger of anyone falling asleep in this man's class.

Goodbye $120 for PCAT! I'll miss you! However I note that I've already stopped worrying about it, so hey, that's kind of worth the money.

Dear brain & body,

You KNOW you're good for nothing after putting in a full day at work and then going to school for several hours. Please stop pencilling your self in for working out, ambitious chores, studying, or redecorating projects on weekday evenings, and then feeling guilty when - surprise! - you don't feel like it. Saturdays are there for a reason.

Love,

Yarrrr.

I am obsessed with this bad joke:

Pirate walks in to a bar. Bartender says "Hey, do you know there's a steering wheel stuck to your crotch?" Pirate: "Arr, I know, it's driving me nuts."

It's from Penny Arcade. Boy and I repeat it to each other constantly and crack up every. single. time. Isn't it great how total retards like us can lead otherwise productive lives in the community? Your support makes this possible.

I will now direct my psychic powers to making the dishwasher run faster so I can make my lunch. I'm having dishes for lunch tomorrow and silverware for dessert. Yum, yum, yum.

Okay no, I just need some tupperware.

I just bought a bunch of hand sanitizer, that alcohol goo that you squirt on your hands and rub them until it evaporates. BRILLIANT! It doesn't (so far) make my rash all unhappy like soap does, and it also kills more bacteria than my skeevy anti-bacterial soap, only without contributing to resistant bacteria. Whee. That was the last barrier to my developing a wide-ranging obsessive-compulsive handwashing routine. With any luck you'll see me in DSM-IV this time next week, but probably not with another cold.

I don't think I'm making much sense. However since I only had about 20 millilitres of my ill-fated drink, I am forced to conclude that that's just how I am. Sigh!