I was not a bright child

I thought that a boy peeing inside of/at anything would result in a pregnancy. Once, I saw some little boy flip over his trunks and pee into a pool. I promptly warned everyone that if they swam in the pool before it got cleaned, many pregnancies would result. I did not think five year old was adequately equipped to become a father to many.

Puffy McChipmunk

One good thing about this whole wisdom teeth debacle is that I have new resolve to never ever ever ever ever get fat. This moonface thing is not working.

SR(Who Cares?) #79

It's strange. I had a #1 at McDonald's yesterday, but did not have the sudden urge to poo 30 minutes later. Has the Big Mac's efficacy as a laxative been lost on me?

ADDENDUM Haha. The #1 usually leads to a #2. HA.

Boundaries

One of my coworkers is a bit of an over-sharer. It can feel quite awkward. For example, I know:

1. Her parents are quite the bigots,
2. Her siblings are often unemployed/drunk/wastes of life, and, most horribly,
   
3. She just had a colonoscopy last week.

There is NO REASON for me to know this. I do not want the details of her medical history, especially regarding her butt. This is an OVER-SHARE.

Photo When I Feel Like It

I think this water fountain on Pennsylvania Avenue is still broken and in no danger of ever being fixed.

Also, I'm pretty sure that the homeless people use these fountains to wash their underpants. I would not recommend drinking from them.

Photo When I Feel Like It and EW.

I like this pic, but as mentioned a few posts earlier, I think it borders on being too warm. But I still like it.

On another note, I just signed into my Flickr account and it shows a couple of my photos, some photos from my contacts, and then a couple new photos from everyone on Flickr. Why is there hard core porn in that last category? EW. I don't think that thing's gonna fit ANYWHERE.

You can't just surprise people with porn. It's not right. You need to be mentally prepared for it. At least I do. I don't wanna sign in and be immediately greeted with a demon penis. NO. I need some warning. You gotta ease into it. Such things cannot be rushed. I'm not really sure that applies to boys though. Sometimes I feel like they just sit around bored, and they just up and decide to pop Good Will Cunting into the DVD player. No preamble necessary. But then, boys are gross. I do not think they are a good standard of measurement for the human race. In any case, my point is this: surprise porn is bad porn.

Resolution #4

Say random things to leave strangers horrified/morbidly curious:

While walking off a Metro car:

...so I said that no amount of yoga would help. I mean, it was HUGE...

or:

...the doctor said that green was not a good sign...

::doors close::

Clearly, my theme for this year is to confound as many people as possible. I think that this is a goal worthy of my time and effort. Don't you?

SRT #64

As I was sprinkling white pepper onto my macaroni salad, I could feel my arm fat jiggle back and forth. Not cute.

I guess it's time to break out the Wii boxing again.

SR(Who Cares When I Do This, Really?) #57

So I missed a day; sue me. Actually, don't. I have important places my money needs to go. My closet, for example. Anyways, I delayed because no topics to write about entered my mind. "But, Catherine," you ask, "your mind is normally empty no matter the scenario. How was this week any different?" Well, I'm lazy. I don't know what to tell you. That seemed as good an excuse as any, and now it's ruined. RUINED!¹ So I will simply go through the notes I keep on my phone. Occasionally, I'll stick some random blurb in there, intending to write extensively on each topic, but I am lazy and so will do them all together with shorter blurbs. Here we go!!

Sun, Jul 29 2:30pm
c

I have no idea what this means. Perhaps it's a reminder as to how to start spelling my name? Perhaps I was about to note someone as a cunt? I really have no recollection of this. :T (This is my new favorite emoticon. Yes, I have a favorite emoticon. Sue me.²)

Fri, Jul 20 3:43pm
cool factor v. nerd v. angry

I think a friend and I were in the process of categorizing people we know. For the most part, everyone seemed to pretty clearly fall into cool or nerd, with very few straddling both.³ It was then pointed out that while I used to reside mostly in an angry place, I am now definitely in the nerd category. I accept that. It's not MY fault that they read In Her Shoes and I read The Zombie Survival Guide. When the zombies come, who'll be laughing then?! WHAT NOW, JERK?!

Mon, Oct 1 8:16pm
fake jt for cash!!!!

OHMIGOD. I was watching TV and suddenly Justin Timberlake is advertising for some quick cash loan deal. It was one of those places that tells you to put up your car for the loan, and then in fine print, there's like, 150% interest or something terrible like that. Anyways, after about two seconds it sinks in that this is NOT Justin, but a lookalike. Crazy. He even had the trying-too-hard stubble, off center fedora, and I think a vest that only Mr. Timberlake can wear without everyone assuming he's gay. In addition to that, the end of the commercial had this dude sitting at a grand piano. Do these people think Justin is a good loan sharking public spokesman? Are they targeting females from the ages of 10-25? Is that prime loan shark bait? Somehow, I really doubt this.

Upon reviewing the above summary, I really don't convey how amused I was. I was literally squealing with delight. It was awesome.

Thu, Jul 19 5:05pm
fupa is not business casual

So I'm walking to my ride home after work, which is around Judiciary Square, when I see what looks like a group of interns. They all look about 18-20, so I assume they were interns. They are wearing super business formal clothing for the most part, a little bit of business casual, so they were straddling that line. (Re: Tee Hee) It was not cute. A herd of poorly dressed things. A cacophony for the eyes, it was ill-fitting suits and bad shoes. Blech. Their queen, however, had FUPA hanging out of her suit jacket. It was, admittedly, a short jacket, but FUPA! And not just FUPA forcing her shirt to paunch out along with it. NAKED FUPA! Her shirt was also too short! NAKED FUPA at Judiciary Square! Terrible. My eyes still burn. I had to go stare at the Fall/Winter Balenciaga show to ease the pain.

Mon, May 28 4:12pm
level 1 aisle e

I must have gone to Tyson's Corner. Usually, I just take a picture of the sign with my camera phone, but I think I was (and still am) out of memory.

Mon, Jul 16 10:58 am
make a left at RECALCULATING ROUTE

I was in Philly and had to pick up a friend at an unfamiliar street. My phone's GPS got me there fine, but then we had to go to another unfamiliar area. At this point, satellites decided that they hate me when my phone spewed out this direction. How can I possibly make a left at recalculating route? I don't think that's a real street. Needless to say, I was sad and much pouting ensued. Luckily, I was able to find my way, but not without much sturm und drang. And, of course, more pouting.

Wed, Jul 11 7:34am
tweezing on the bus is a bad idea

That is all.


¹ Sorry, I'm in an especially random mood right now. Let's call it crazycornystrange.
² For real though. Please don't.
³ Tee hee. Straddle.

And the Onslaught Continues

I was feeling lazy this morning so I stayed in bed for an extra twenty minutes, planning to catch the 7:40 bus as opposed to my usual 7:20. Unfortunately for me, traffic was backed up all the way to where I need to cross the highway to get to the stop. I just missed the 7:40 and had to wait for the 8:00. So annoying. I'm sitting at the stop, minding my own business, playing Super Puzzle Fighter II on my cell when other people start to arrive. So this random dude sits on the same bench (there's only one for this particular stop) at a respectable distance. I have my headphones in, and I'm destroying some loser in SPFII, officially, I am incommunicado with the outside world.

Of course, this tranquility lasts only until I hear murmurings that seem to be pointed in my general direction. I ignore them, thinking I'm hearing things, or perhaps I'm just catching snippets from some conversation outside of my visual range. The murmurings come again, forcing me to look around. The dude sitting on the bench is asking if I just bought new shoes and pointing to the Downtown Locker Room bag that I have sitting in front of me.* "No, it's just an old bag."** I return to my game.

For a visual image, he's a ratty thing. He looks about 18-19ish, braces, super unkempt hair. He's wearing fucked up black Air Force Ones, a GINORMOUS t-shirt, and dirty jeans. He is not cute. I'm not saying dudes need to be perfectly put together at all times; there is such a thing as attractively disheveled and this was not it. It was as though he spent the night painting a fence, and on a whim decided to take the bus into DC this morning. He needs:

1. A haircut,
2. A shower,
3. A washer/dryer,
4. A tailor, and
   
5. A speech therapist. (I can't stand such poor enunciation.)

The bus finally gets there and I pick my favorite seat. It is perfectly situated to facilitate sleeping. I try to sleep, and I succeed for the most part. Unfortunately, I'd already been awake long enough to make it difficult to stay asleep for the entire ride, which was super long with excessive traffic everywhere until we crossed the border into DC. What generally happens on the bus is that as people get off the bus, people sitting next to each other will split up so that each pair of seats has only one person. This is nothing personal, it's just a desire to spread out as space becomes available. I get on at the first stop and get off at the last, so I'm in a position where I never have to move. However, at the second to last stop, the guy from the bench gets up and sits next to me.

This is not a good omen. This just isn't done on my bus route. There are rules about this sort of thing. Unless you are friends with the person, you do not get up to sit next to them, and even then, if there are adjacent seat pairs that are empty, you sit in a different seat pair close enough to talk, but far enough for sprawling out a bit. He proceeds to ask me random questions to which I provide one/two word responses while gazing out the window.

Him: What time is is?
Me: 9:30
Him: So you ride out here everyday?
Me: No. (Actual answer: Yes, just not at this time normally.)
Him: So you work in DC?
Me: Sure.
Him: So you shop at Downtown Locker Room a lot?
Me: Not really. (Actual answer: I used to a lot, but not as often lately.)
Him: So where do you work?
Me: Government stuff. (Actual answer: Not government stuff.)

Thankfully, he stops with the questions about thirty seconds before the last stop. He tries to initiate no more conversation. I really don't know what I did to deserve all this punishment. First the iPod dies on me, then I miss an awesome photo opportunity, and now this. God, what did I do to offend you so terribly?

At least I have another reason to catch the earlier buses.


* I bought some tiny SpongeBob Squarepants Dunks for my friend's new baby. So adorable. So shiny. So yellow. So awesome.
** Every couple of workdays, I show up with a bag full of english muffins/bagels, cream cheese, and a lot of whatever frozen dinners are on sale at Safeway. It's cheaper than buying lunch everyday, but easier than actually making lunch.

SRT# 53

If only Exxon would return my calls, we could make a fortune.

Everybody Poos

Yesterday, when I went to the bathroom to pee in the late morning, there was a woman at the sink finishing up washing her hands, so I figured that once I got into the stall and ready to go, she'd be gone. Not so. Instead, she proceeded to rummage through her purse while humming/talking to herself. I understand the need to mess around with your shit before you leave the bathroom, but there is a powder room(?) before the actual bathroom that is made for that purpose. Why could she have not used that? I was distressed, but despite that, I was able to pee. She left before I exited the stall.

Fast forward to 4:30. I had to poo. It wasn't a particularly pressing need, but I walk about two miles after work, and I'd rather not have to haul around a full load with me. The same woman was at the sinks of the bathroom. She seems to be further along in whatever it she does, so I enter the stall. She seems to be heavily involved in searching for something in the purse, accompanied by humming/talking at a crescendo. I grow concerned. This is not a mere urine situation; there is poo involved. I take my time getting situated in the stall. I wait. I have to pee anyways, so I let that go. I wait. She is still rummaging/humming/talking. I wait. I wait. I cannot perform with an audience, so I exit the stall and proceed to wash my hands. Slowly. Very Slowly. This woman then proceeds to start wiping down the entire sink/counter area that she has been occupying. Of what, I do not know. I saw nothing to wipe up, but who knows. Finally, she leaves. At that point, I was in the midst of drying my hands at the slowest possible rate I could muster. Once I hear the second set of doors close, I get back into the stall and handle my business.

Things I am strangely curious about:
1. What was she looking for in her purse at multiple points in the day? I can only assume it was the same item, but if she had trouble finding it in the morning, why the continued loss in the afternoon?
2. Why did she have to wipe down the counter? I saw no spillage of anything. Additionally, it was not simply the immediate area around the sink she was occupying. She definitely infringed on areas belonging to the adjacent sinks. (I was two sinks away.)
3. For someone with such lingering public bathroom behavior, why have I never seen her before? Judging from her color-blind-pajamaesque ensemble, she definitely doesn't work for the super-businessy things that we share the floor with, so I can only assume she is with the labor union that is also on this floor.*

Do these laborers/wives of/associates of laborers not understand protocol?** It is in and out in the minimum time needed to achieve sanitary/satisfactory conditions. No lingering is necessary. Needless to say, it was a very stressful poo. Very unsatisfactory. :(


* Which, curiously, has actually had it's lights on for the last few days. After a year in this building, I have only seen the lights on maybe four times.
** I realize my using the term "laborer" seems elitist, but that's only because I don't want to give away where I work. I love those who labor. They are awesome.

WHY?!

So I'm typing away on Gmail, and suddenly, in the quick contacts, appears this message:

Your internet connection is experiencing problems or your network administrator has blocked Gmail chat. Learn more

I really hope it is problems with my internet connection, as that tends to happen from time to time here. However, I can still gallivant through the intertubes with no problem. I fear that the network has actually blocked Gmail chat. I think I'm going to die.

ADDENDUM (4:47 PM)
It's back!

Adventures in LA

While in LA, I took random notes in my phone so that I would remember all the random things I noticed. I have a horrible memory when it comes to remembering the random thoughts that occur to me for no reason, strange things that I observe, or anything that people tell me. Well, I have a horrible memory in general. It's a miracle that I can get home every night (for the most part). Now it seems like I have whorish tendencies, but I really do just have a shitty memory. I really don't know how I got off on this tangent, but here are the notes stored in my cell phone:

Wednesday, May 9 5:49 AM
level 2 row 4

It seems as though the poor memory is in my blood, as I took this note for my father so that we could go home upon our return to DC. Without this note, we surely would still be wandering the long term parking at National hoping to see our generic Honda amongst the herd.

Wednesday, May 9 6:03 AM
just saw the first white woman "randomly" selected for screening

This was a historic moment for all travelers everywhere. Apparently, this woman has not flown on a plane for years, as she did not remove her shoes or jacket, left her boarding pass in her bag (going through the x-ray machine), and then proceeded to ask about all of these "new" processes. The person (who was black) that waves you through the little gate then "randomly" selected her for more intense screening. I took great pains to refrain from indulging in gluttonous, self-satisfying peals of laughter. Instead, I simply internalized it, which is probably a good thing, as it (hopefully) counteracted all of the other internalized reactions of the negative nature that will eventually lead to my heart attack/stroke when I'm 26. In any case, this was an excellent moment for me, but a truly glorious moment for anyone darker than khaki.

Wednesday, May 9 12:28 PM
jerks who put their shit in any overhead. it fucks up everyone else.

I really do not like these people. The ones who just shove their carry on luggage into the first open space they see regardless of where their seats are. If you are sitting in 37B, don't stow your bag above row 10. Where do you expect the row 10 passengers to put their things?! It completely throws off everyone's luggage, so at landing, everyone is going up and down the aisles trying to find their stuff. Don't be a jerk. Just use the space allotted to your seat area.

Friday, May 11 9:23 AM
so many open toed shoes with hose!

At the USC graduation, there were some very well dressed people. Unfortunately, the overall state of dress was average due to some atrocities. Open toed shoes with hose are not right. I had no words, just gaping disbelief. While on the topic, there were some really excellent shoes on display. That part was glorious. It's probably as close as I can come to knowing what it feels like for men to graduate from Playboy to titty bars. LIVE ACTION PORN! Besides the shoes, however, there was one theme that so many people embodied at the graduation: skin cancer. For all the creationists out there, how can you deny evolution's veracity when there are BASEBALL MITTS sprouting legs, running around, and sending offspring to college? I DEFY you to explain that to me. The point is, use sunscreen. You are a person, not a leather good used to play sports.

Saturday, May 12 3:05 PM
.

I got my period.¹ Ugh. I had to take note so as to remember putting it into my Grand Calender of Suffering. I don't have anything to add to the already vast library of period complaints. My only real complaint is the cramps during the first 36ish hours or so. However, God did seem to take a little bit of pity on me and only stuck with the (relatively) lighter body blows to the abdomen instead of His usual gut-wrenching uppercuts straight into my uterus. God, is it really necessary for all the pain? I know women are the source of all sin, but I didn't offer any apples to anyone.

Sunday, May 13 5:00 PM
if you need a cane, why are you in heels?

I randomly remembered seeing a woman in heels using a cane during the graduation. (That is how my memory works. I will see something, forget about it, and then spontaneously remember for no reason at all.) I understand a love of heels. I really do. But if you need a cane to walk, maybe you should stick with flats. It just seems self-defeating to me.

Sunday, May 13 9:08 PM
another deflated aero bed

We stayed with fake-me-out family in Vegas on Saturday night, and I got put on the aero bed. Now, it started out pretty poorly filled, but I just assumed that was a time constraint. I was wrong. Something was wrong with the seal, and I woke up on the floor with nothing but a sheet and 2 layers of plastic between my body and the floor. It was quite sad. The only thing that makes it sadder is the lack of novelty. This has happened to me before, except on purpose and with spite/torture in mind. I was trying to get some sleep during a ski trip during which I did nothing but drink and go snow-tubing, when someone decided that they were bored and I would be the one to entertain her. So the seal was broken, and I was on the floor. I hate aero beds.

Monday, May 13 12:23 PM
they almost lost my luggage!

Have you ever gone to the luggage claim area at the airport, watched other people haul their bags off of the conveyor belt while waiting for your own, and then see the stream of luggage just end without yours ever showing up? Yeah. It sucks, right? I'm standing there like a puppy, pouting, willing the conveyor to randomly start up to deliver my one fucking bag. Clearly, my will was not strong enough as that didn't happen. As I began my trek to the luggage services, I began mentally listing all of the items in the bag that I had lost, and how much it would cost to replace all of it. If anything stopped me from replacement, I was going to fight someone. This despondency was only aggravated by the fact that of the 2,109,387 bags my family had checked, only mine was lost. By the time we got to the service area, I had calculated a reimbursement of about $870.² I was all ready to fight someone about my stuff. Fortunately (unfortunately?), they had my suitcase at the service area. Apparently, it got put onto an earlier flight from LA to DC, and no one had claimed it. Thank God.³ Most of me was overjoyed at the recovery of the suitcase, but a small part was disappointed in not having an excuse to fight. I like to find new ways to release aggression.

More than this happened, of course, but these are the only notes I remembered to take. Some good, some bad. Some shitty, some bloody. That was LA.


¹ Sidenote: Few things are more amusing than finding the one other female in a room full of boys and talking about periods so that everyone can hear. The facial expressions are totally worth it.
² I have a lot of stuff. This isn't even all of what I brought for the trip, as I shoved some into my mother's GINORMOUS suitcase when I got lazy in repacking everything.
³ I guess this sort of makes up for the bleeding, but not really. Is the bleeding really necessary though? Nothing should bleed for 4-7 days without dying. It's not right.

Nice Day For A Barbeque

With my love for shoes (and by recent extension, clothes) and people watching, it's not a surprise that I'm a fan of The Sartorialist. It's always good to see well-dressed people gallivanting about. There are a number of sartorialist-esque sites for various cities. The Facehunter has what seems to be a pretty comprehensive list. Apparently, Philadelphia has it's very own site: Faceadelphia. That's clever, isn't it? Faces + Philadelphia = Facedelphia! Super clever, I know. Here's the thing: I am unimpressed. Some of these photos are just plain wrong. Take this picture for example:

Warning - Do not look directly into the screen, or you may suffer permanent damage.

My first reaction is:

Demon! WITCH! BURN IT!

I don't think this is an unreasonable reaction. Look at that track suit! Did she use her wayback machine to pinch this from (let's say) 1992 and consequently destroy approximately 20,983,409,857 of my eye cells? I'm sorry, there are just too many wrong things happening here. It almost makes me ashamed of my own (beautiful) collection of Nikes. I feel as though while she was wandering around 1992, she hitched a ride from Philly to Kentucky, broke into an inbred's home, rooted through the clothes that the owners don't even wear anymore, and barely escaped being blown full of buckshot back into the present day. On the way back to Philly, she apparently raided a rest stop for a new t-shirt and took great pains to find the worst sneakers to wear with her prize. My heart weeps for Nike.* And the sunglasses! Oh, GOD, the sunglasses. I hope the only reason she's wearing these is to spare us the consequence of turning to stone, lest we actually look into her eyes. Fortunately, I can't even bring myself to look directly at this picture, so there will be no stone turning for me.

This is a sin against eyes. It should not be celebrated; it should be burnt.


* I took it out of storage for this occasion.

SRT #29

I've noticed a definate upshoot in the number of commercials about poo. Is there a national epidemic of constipation going on without my knowledge? Apparently, there is a collective fiber deficiency running rampant throughout America, or at least in my broadcast area. Every other commercial on the air is for some kind of bowel regulation product, from yogurts to smoothies to pills. Also, it seems like it's always middle aged women starring in these spots. Is this what I have to look forward to? Poo problems and wrinkles?

Unfortunately, I can't remember what the names of all these products are, but I'm sure I'll be reminded the next time I watch TV. In the meantime, happy pooing!

A Good Laugh

I finally got a new scanner, so I've decided to give people a good laugh. Enjoy.

SRT #17.5

So I alluded to an event which reinforced my belief in karma on Tuesday, and I figure I might as well document said event. So I get the mail on Saturday and look through it, taking out things for me. This includes the usual things: bank statements, bills, and pre-approved credit card applications. However, there's something unexpected also: a greeting card sized envelope. This is strange as I don't usually get cards from people except for my birthday or Christmas. So I'm confused and proceed to open it.

Confirming my assumptions, it is a greeting card, but not fulfilling the usual greeting card goals, such as thank yous or invitations. Instead, it's a greeting card asking me out. I wanted to vomit. Now, this card is blank on the inside, so there is much writing space available. Tell me why fool filled up the entire card to the point where it spills over onto the back. Gross! There were so many wrong things happening in the card, which I will now list.

1. Fool didn't say who he was until the second "page" of the card.
2. It notes that he has seen me at church, but I always left the building right after mass, so he was never able to speak to me there. (Thank God!)
3. It notes my lack of wearing a wedding/engagement ring. This is especially disturbing that he was close enough to me at some point to note which fingers my rings are one. I typically wear three: two on my right (thumb and fourth finger) and one on my left (middle finger). Double vomit.
4. He apparently has seen my mom at prayer groups and holistic healing meetings. Triple vomit.
5. It invites me out for a lunch or (this is the good part) to get snacks and conversation. SNACKS! Are we in kindergarten? Do you plan on a pre- or post-recess event? Fool. Who says that?!
6. He says it seems like I "march to the beat of my own drummer." Quadruple vomit.

Perhaps you're wondering who would send such a card to me? I'll tell you who: a sad (he has to be at least) 30-year-old. Yes. I'm not saying that's really old. But it is for this. Also, I wouldn't be able to pick this fool out of a line up. I do know his sister in passing, but I have no idea who this fool is. Apparently, we all went to the same piano teacher years years years ago, but as he was at least seven years older than me, I still had no idea who he was. (But he apparently remembered me as a nine maybe ten-year-old. Infinite vomit.) According to the card, he is resuming masses at his own church so I can (hopefully) still attend my own in peace.

One of the more confusing aspects of this card is that there is nothing in my church demeanor that says: Come talk to me. I'm a nice, well-adjusted person. Quite the opposite. I generally have a surly expression on my face, which is played up even more when I'm in places I don't want to be, i.e. church. I've made a whole persona based on looking irritated and mean so that people don't bother me when I'm in no mood to be bothered. When I have been forced to interact with someone that doesn't know me at church, they usually express consternation and worry that I'm going to bite their heads off. Bottom line: I am not an inviting person.

"How does this relate to karma?" you ask while scratching your head in confusion. Oh, I will tell you. My senior year of college, a classmate and I always went to the same truck. I liked the truck for a number of reasons. The abundant supply of Snapple Apple and excellent gyros were at the top of the list. So the guy that took the orders began to develop quite the crush on my classmate.¹ Due to a sleepy mishap, he learned her name from me and began to (let's say) woo her. Now, this was infinately amusing on my part because I would continue to frequent his food truck, which was conveniently located right next to the closest entrance to a lecture hall. This culminated at Christmas where he sent her a card (via another classmate) begging for her to "give him a chance." A small part of me has never stopped laughing at this. On many occasions, I would bring up this love for her that transcended all boundaries. They could cook gyros and sandwiches until the rapture.

Unfortunately for the truck guy, my friend never again went back to that truck. Every time I ordered a gyro (extra cucumber sauce, no lettuce), I could see the pain deep within his eyes. Poor poor him.

So the point is, I took way too much amusement from this occurance. And God has decided to punish me by sending a creepy card my way. I get it, God. No more excessive laughter at another's predicament.² Of course, I'll probably relapse at some point, and God will have to send me another karmic sign, causing me to renounce such things again, rinse and repeat. Such is my life.


¹ Friend? I dont' know if calling someone who tries to sexually assult me in the quad is a friend, but that's a different issue.
² Reasonable laugher is a different story, however.

SRT #17

Over the weekend, I learned that karma is a bitch. I'm too sleepy right now to go into the details of the matter, but this is a vital lesson to spread throughout the land: If you take way too much amusement from something that has happened to someone else, karma will ensure that it happens to you in due course.

Please, try to control your laughter.

Because I definitely couldn't:

I knew it!