Normally I don't like to write serious blogs. I would much rather talk about the stupid people I encounter or the stupid ideas that pop into my head on occasion, but tonight I've decided that you should all read about this personal problem I'm having.
My friends have always been super important to me. I will always drop what I'm doing to go help a friend out. I go places that I don't want to go just to satisfy a friend's request, I am a good listener and I try my best to give good advice. I act as a taxi cab for friends with busted vehicles, a shoulder to cry on when the girls are having boy trouble, a piggy bank when someone is a couple bucks short of whatever it is that they have to have that day, a mother to my intoxicated friends who feel the need to start a fight with the first person who looks at them for longer than 2 seconds, and a hotel for people to frequently party at without having to worry about cleaning up afterwards (thanks guys). I would consider myself a good friend...or at least i try to be. But lately I have felt like the feeling isn't mutual. I recently got fired from my job (the one I've worked at for over four years!) and I've had some trouble finding another one. I worked at Brick Oven for a couple of weeks before I realized that place was hell and quit. I have had a couple of job offers that I haven't been interested in (mainly the offer to wear skimpy clothes and offer drinks to the drunk gamblers at the casino, hoping they'll toss me a dollar every now and then)and I finally settled for a job working at the Topeka Country Club with the local snobs. Needless to say, money is kind of tight right now. So I guess I figured my firends would be there for me through all of this, and would maybe come over and hang out every now and then instead of going to the bar every night like we normally do. I thought maybe they'd call once in a while just to see how I'm doing and how the job hunt is going, but I've gotten nothing. I see a couple of friends on Tuesday's and Thursday's for lunch, and that's about it. I look at pictures on myspace and facebook of all my friends at the bar getting waisted, and I don't seem to be a second thought. So I guess this is my "feel sorry for me" blog entry for the semester. I guess you just start to see who your true friends are when you actually need them to be there for you.
But enough of my sob story. On to finding more stupid people to write about in my next blog entry =)

road rage part 2

It's official. Topeka drivers suck. They're horrible. I hate them! I honestly don't understand their thought process. Sometimes I wonder if the average Topeka driver gets up in the morning and says to themselves, "I would like to see just how much of a jackass I can be on the road today."
Over the past week I've noticed people's bad driving skills more and more. I have been interviewing with Harrah's for a bartending position and so I've had to drive to Mayetta a couple days in a row. In just two short days, I have noticed more bad driving abilites than ever before. I've decided that the following things are just situations that I will never understand. If anyone can give me answers, please do. Maybe it will ease my mind just a little bit!
1. Why, under any circumstances, would you drive 62 miles an hour in a 70 mile per hour speed zone? And in the fast lane!? Are you trying to piss people (mainly me) off?
2. When I'm driving down 21st Street, just minding my own business, is it necessary to pull out in front of me when there's no one behind me for 5 miles!?
3. When you do pull out in front of me, why do you feel the need to hesitate, and wait until I'm even closer to do it? Just to ensure the fact that you are, in fact, pulling out in front of me?
4. Are people not capable of talking on the phone and driving at the same time? I have mastered the art of talking, texting, using the calculator, setting an alarm, and searching for new ring tones... all while driving at the same time. It's a gift, I know. However, I do think the driver's test should start including a portion that requires all drivers to talk on their cell phone and drive at the same time, because apparently, it's a difficult task to master.
5. When I'm on an entrance ramp to the highway and there's no one next to you, is it too much to ask for you to scoot your ass over so I can join you on that big highway you are hogging all to yourself?
6. Last time I checked, the dotted line on the road means you are supposed to stay on either side of it...not both. Everyone else seems to understand that, so why is it so hard for some people to pick a lane?

These things just seem like common knowledge to me, however, I'm starting to think I'm alone in my thoughts. As I said earlier, if anyone can answer these questions for me, please do. I could use some insight!

Freakin' myspace!

I hate it when people send me those damn comments on myspace and on facebook that say something to the effect of "You have 2.45 seconds to send this forward to all the pretty girls on your friends list or you will have bad luck FOREVER!" What is the point of this!? Are we in 3rd grade? No offense to my friends, I love them all dearly, but grow up! Are they honestly so bored that they have to resort to sending me messages that just mess with my head?
I get these messages, and with a lack of better things to do, I read them. They usually start out with a cute little story, something that makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. I get feeling good about life, and then I scroll down to see that I'm being threatened by an email! If i don't send this out to 999 people in the next five minutes I'm going to go bald and be miserably alone for the rest of my life? Are you threatening me?? It completely kills my mood. I don't even have 999 friends! So then I start feeling down because I have no friends. So, I go to delete the stupid comment that they have left me, and I start thinking to myself, "what if i do have bad luck for the rest of my life? Maybe I should send this out to all the pretty girls I know. But wait...what if I forget someone and then I offend them because they weren't included in the category of 'pretty girls' that I know."
Stop it Valerie! You're being ridiculous! It's a damn email!!! Just delete it and move on! Stop being "basic panties" about the situation!
See what these things do to me? If i ever find the person who started all of this, I plan to punch them....right in the face.

I'm basic panties?!?!

I've become "one of them." I have fallen into the category of bored people who fill out those stupid surveys on myspace. Why do I fill them out? I don't konw. They 're the most pointless things I've ever waisted my time on. But for some reason I've become strangly addicted. By answering two questions about how I flirt with guys and what I do on the weekends, these surveys can tell me what kind of beer I am, what city I am, what kind of car I am, what kind of kisser I am, and even what kind of sex I am.
The other night I engaged in my newest survey, titled What Kind of Panties Are You? I had seen it on my friend, Laura's page and I figured I would try it out too. She had been categorized as "designer panties." Since we've been friends for a long time and we have some things in common, I figured I would probably be "designer panties" too. So I answered the five stupid questions that they ask and then clicked submit. I waited for my incredibly slow computer to open the new page where it would reveal my category. It finally loaded the page and I quickly scrolled down to see the results.
"I'm basic panties?!?!" I said with complete disappointment.
"What the hell does that mean!? I'm boring? I have no life? There's nothing exciting about me at all???"
Tyler, who was sitting behind me in what he calls "God's chair"(the recliner I bought him for his graduation last year), heard my complaints and turned around to see what I was bitching about.
"What are you talking about honey?" he said.
"Tyler am I basic panties?" I responded. "I just filled out one of these damn survey things and it said I was basic panties. That means I'm boring!"
"No you're not boring," he said. "You know those things aren't right. They're stupid. I don't think you're basic panties...I think you're no panties."
I couldn't help but laugh. Tyler always seems to know what to say to cheer me up when I'm being a big drama queen about something.
However, even though he cheered me up for the time being, I'm still paranoid about that survey. What if I am just basic panties!? I guess I will just have to start spicing things up a bit!

you've got to be kidding me!

It's 10:52 a.m. and as usual, I'm running late. I have eight minutes to get to my Spanish class, clear accross town. I run out the door, slam it shut, and fling open the door to my car. I throw my bookbag to the other side of the car, toss my purse into the passenger's seat and plop down in the "queen's chair," as I like to call it.

This morning my car has a bad feel to it. It just doesn't feel like it normall does. It feels foreign to me, as though it's not even mine...and that's when I notice it. Someone broke into my damn car! AGAIN! My dashboard is pulled completely out and it's cracked all to hell. The wires that use to be connected to a Sony Xplode are now just dangling in the open space.

I can't believe it. This is the fifth time my car has been broken into in the last two-and-a-half years. FIVE TIMES! That means I have supplied some punk-ass kid with over $750 worth of cd players that they will turn around and sell for 50 bucks. That doesn't even account for the hundreds of dollars that I've put into the two times I've had to replace the driver's side window. I immediately grab my phone and start dialing.

"Thank you for calling American General Finance. How can I help you?" the girl says on the other line.
"Yea, can I talk to Tyler please," I respond in a pissed-off tone.
"Sure. Can I tell him who's calling?"
"This is Val," I said, trying not to lose my patience. There are only four people that work in Tyler's office, and that includes Tyler. The other three are all friends of his and I have been around them a million times. I've called up there for Tyler a million times, and yet every time I call, the same girl asks me who's calling. Today is just not the day for her professional bullshit. She knows damn well who I am! Just put him on the phone!

"This is Tyler," he says.
"Tyler someone broke into my damn car last night."
"Oh no. I'm sorry baby. I didn't even see anything this morning when I left for work. What all did they take?"
"They took my cd player and the watch you got me for Christmas."
"Oh honey, I'm so sorry."

At this point I have to get off the phone with him. I'm in such a pissy mood I just don't know what else to say. I hang up and then call my mom. She doesn't answer so I leave her a lengthy message explaining every detail of the situation. After I hang up with her, I start texting all my friends to tell them about my misfortunate event. At this point I can't decide if I'm looking for sympathy or just wanting to send out the message, as if telling everyone is going to bring my stuff back.

I pull into an open parking spot in front of Morgan and run up the three flights of stairs to my class. I can't pay attention to anything Professor Tenney is saying because my mind is focused on how I'm going to find the little punk that took my stuff and I'm going to kick his ass! For all I know the burglar could be some 350 pound man, but the way I feel right now, I would still attempt to hurt him in some way.

So now it's all said and done and I'm left driving around with nothing to listen to but my own thoughts. Contrary to my previous beliefs, I can only hope that some 16-year-old kid will pull up next to me at a stoplight with his music blaring. At least in his attempts to look cool I will have something to listen to.