I'm not sure if this is an Ohio thing, but in the past few years I've met a lot of AAA Evengelical types, people who can't fathom owning a car or even a bike without subscribing to this service. I understand that a lot of people use AAA and a lot of people like it, and that's OK. The people I don't understand are the people whose answer for EVERYTHING auto-related is to call AAA.

I've never used AAA, but my friends and family have, and it seems to me like the people who really like AAA are either the people who have never used it, or the people who use it solely for their mapping services.

Let me tell you a story about AAA. When I say I've never "used" AAA, I am referring to never having used the towing service. They once towed my parents' car to a lot (I guess it was a lot, although mom made it sound like it was slightly less legitimate than that) whose hours did not match up with business hours and who would not release the car to them unless they were there at something like 2 in the afternoon. Every day that they could not come, they were charged $100. They couldn't pay the fee if they couldn't work, and since they were working they couldn't get their car...I don't know all the details, but I get the impression that it was less of a car lot than it was a sham business organization. That's not the story I originally set out to type, but it's kind of a good prelude I suppose. My Color Guard frequently travels to marching competitions in other states. The year we were travelling to Charlotte, North Carolina, one of our group ("Uncle Stan") looked up a four-star hotel in his AAA travel book. Keep in mind throughout this whole tale that this hotel was highly lauded by the AAA travel guide. We assumed we'd be resting our heads in style.

Our first sign that this would not be the case came early. Upon reaching the hotel, we saw a giant neon sign proclaiming "$99 monthly rates." I asked my dad what this meant, and he said it meant that drug dealers and child molesters probably lived there while evading the law. "Oh." I replied, thinking he was bullshitting me since my dad kind of has a habit of doing that.

Turns out he wasn't REALLY joking. One of the rooms we booked turned out to have a broken window with blood and glass on the bed and floor. My room didn't have a phone or towels, and everything was bolted down. I sort of figured that maybe there was a reasonable explanation for all of it, and I went with my lady Vikki to get a phone from the front desk. Well...turns out the problem wasn't so much that I didn't have a phone as it was that the room didn't have a working phone jack. Someone had ripped it from the wall. We couldn't switch rooms, so Vikki and I decided just to go hang out by the pool, where we were immediately accosted by some drug dealers. And when I say drug dealers, I mean actual legitimate drug dealers. One of them had a backpack with drugs in it, and he was flashing them around. When we went to bed, they paraded outside our room banging on the window and the door. We couldn't call for help, so we huddled together in the bathtub, bathroom door locked, with my Algebra book for protection since all the furniture was bolted down. When we complained to my parents the next morning, it turns out they hadn't fared much better. Seems a gang of drunken people screaming in Spanish had kept the other half of the hotel up by sitting on other peoples' cars out front and generally making asses of themselves. We left, and stayed at a non AAA approved hotel. When we called AAA to complain, they didn't seem all that concerned. Turns out their "approval" process (at least at the time this all happened) was pretty much just to have people fax in their hotel amenities. No visit, no inspection, obviously no search of local police records. So, hurrah, AAA!

I understand these were probably two unique situations, but I don't really feel like taking my chances. Some people really don't seem to understand this, however. "You don't have AAA?!" they will ask me, incredulous looks crossing their donut-stuffed faces. "Why would I?" I ask, eating a donut myself. "What if you're traveling out of town and your car breaks down?" they ask, shocked. Apparently the AAA evangelists think cell phones and directory assistance don't exist outside of the perimeters of their own counties. I've had people INSIST that as I am a young lady who travels alone sometimes, that I NEED AAA or I'm going to end up stranded in some God-forsaken desert with pimps and hookers as my only travel companions. I find this incredibly insulting, this assumption that I need some cut-rate travel service in order to find my way in the world.

See, this is my main problem with AAA. Sure, there are other objections. I think it's kind of pricey, considering that I *might* need to use it once every three years, when the cost of a non AAA tow is $50, and considering I can use the internet and the phone book to do all my trip planning. Sometimes I like to take a gander at a AAA map, but I'm not going to pay a yearly fee for that. Price isn't my main objection.

I think AAA makes people unable to think for themselves. Seriously, how do you think our ancestors survived all those years when they didn't have AAA? Now we have cell phones and 411 and OnStar...we're all a bunch of big old non-survivalist goobers. I've had people try to use the argument that I might find myself in a place where my cell phone doesn't work. Technically, if I'm in a place where my cell phone isn't working, AAA isn't going to do me any damn good, is it? What, am I going to stand on the highway and scream "AAA!!!" as loudly as possible until someone flags me down?

When I locked my keys in my car, I called the police. I'm paying for them, and it's their job to protect and serve. They unlocked my car in two mintues. If my car breaks down, I will dial directory assistance and call a tow truck. I know how to change my own tire. I keep my tank filled so that I don't run out of gas, but heaven forbid I get a leak, I would call the cops for that, too. If I was uncertain about who to call, I would call my car insurance company and ask them to recommend someone. Hell, I'm paying for that as well, so I might as well use it.

If you feel more comfortable with AAA, fine, use it, that's great. We all like being comfortable. But don't use AAA as a crutch, or as an excuse to not know how to do things yourself. And for the love of God, stop trying to push it on me, OK? I don't want to use AAA, I don't need it, and I don't approve of it. I don't care if you have a coupon. Get off my damn lawn.

Lately there's been a lot of talk about Global Warming, and how we're setting some record seasonal highs. (A few years ago I remember setting some record seasonal lows, but nobody bitched about that, so I suppose record cold is a boring news topic, whereas 40 degree weather in January is apparently a money maker.) I remember learning about Global Warming waaaay back in high school when I took a class called Physical Geology, or as we liked to call it, "Rocks for Jocks." Physical Geology was not so much a mentally challenging class as it was a class wherein Lovell and I had to get up with a goth kid named Nick and give an oral report on Uranus. We got a C, but only because I couldn't keep from laughing so hard I fell over when Lovell asked the teacher "how big is Uranus?" This was a class where we had so much down time that once Lovell and John Hruska shoved me under our table for fifteen minutes and the teacher didn't even NOTICE. I also remember someone getting sent to the principal's office for ending a debate with the phrase "put that in your pipe and smoke it." Actually, I don't really remember learning a lot about science in that class, come to think about it. Anyway, at some point I'm pretty sure we discussed the hole in the ozone layer, and the teacher assured us that it was Bad.

I also took a chemistry class the year I was 16, and I learned about ozone, and how it is made of three oxygen molecules. We were taught that photocopiers create ozone when they're doing their witchcraft of taking pictures and then...as if by magic...jamming up and spraying toner and staples out between one of the seams in the front. At least, this is how our office copier works. Somewhere in there, ozone is created.

So here's my thought. Let's haul a big old mess of photocopiers down to the Antarctic and set them all off at once. Boom! We've created ozone!

Furthermore, if the people making the copies are third class mail distributers, this process works even better because they'll all be up there, stuck in the southern hemisphere, and I highly doubt the advertisers are going to pay to send third class mail from the south pole. We can feed the mail to the beavers, who will put it in their dams, and the circle of life will be completed.

I personally think this is a brilliant plan, and I see absolutely no flaws with it whatsoever. Please feel free to send me money and/or food for my brilliant research.

I know I've mentioned this before, but it's worth saying again. I hate bumper stickers.

Bumper stickers annoy me for a variety of reasons, not the least of which is that they are distracting as hell. I for one would like to keep my eyes on the road, not on some car plastered with a thousand sayings, some of which are so hilarious that my laughter prevents me from driving in the most cautious manner possible. (For example, I once saw a van with Catholic and pro-Life bumper stickers on it. The van was filled with screaming kids, pressing various body parts up against the windows, and the mom was twisted around in her seat smacking at them. I laughed so hard I almost wet myself. It wasn't that I disagreed with any of her sentiments, it was just really funny.)

I think slapping bumper stickers cars is one way people set themselves up for irony. I see WOW bumper stickers ("whip them out Wednesday") on cars being driven by men who probably don't see a lot of women whipping them out, per ce. If you display a "buckle up" sticker, you're going to get rear-ended in your own driveway, pre-seatbelt buckling. It's not necessarily going to be your fault---that's just how the law of automotics works, at least in Ohio.

Anyway, yesterday I was stuck driving behind a van driven by a middle aged person. The van was going too slow, and he or she wasn't using their blinker, which really pisses me off. You can't do THIRTY on an onramp and then shoot across three lanes with no indicator. You're going to cause an accident, and it's going to be your own damn fault. Anyway, this person's van had a bumper sticker on it that said "Keep my American Flag off your foreign car." Then I noticed that the so-called "American" van in front of me happened to be manufactured by a company who uses Suzuki motors. I drive a Korean car, a Kia Rio, and my car happens to be manufactured by a company who has American work plants and uses American workers. So in reality we were driving the same sort of car---made in American with foreign parts. Of course, I guess it's easier to buy an 80 cent bumper sticker (bought with the purpose of offending people, mind you) than to actually practice what you're preaching.

The other day the Skipper and I happened to be discussing cars and labels, and how companies will use their name to prey on our own prejudices. Mazda? Skip claims it's owned by Ford. I'm not sure if that's entirely true since Skip claims a lot of things, but I wouldn't be surprised if there was some sort of partnership there.

This doesn't end with cars. There is an electronics manufacturer known as "LG" which stands for "Lucky Gold Star." They're a Korean company. They make cell phones, some of which are OK, some of which suck, sort of like any other cell phone company, really. LG has recently been advertising using the tagline "Life's Good," and my theory is that it's because they want it to sound more "American."

So the moral is that if you really want to take a stance on something, you should probably check it out before you slap a bumper sticker on your car, or else you could just not slap bumper stickers on your car in the first place. They're pretty tacky, and it would be embarassing to be seen driving around in a beaten up rusted out thing with a "Reaganomics" sticker peeking through all the bondo. Also, they do hurt the resale value although I suppose that doesn't matter if you plan on driving it till you can set fire to it for insurance money. Not that I would do that, of course. *shifty eyes*

Sorry, Johnny Depp. As amusing as Captain Jack Sparrow is, with his drunken mincing around and his eyeliner, he'll never be able to top Kevin Kline as the pirate king in the movie version of Pirates of Penzance.

Observe:



Rent it!

After living with little Stephen Tyler Jr. for a few weeks, I think I've gotten a pretty good grasp of communicating with a creature who expresses all of his excitement through grasping and humping (much like the original Stephen Tyler, who also expresses emotions through grunting and bonging beer.)

Here are some common puppy thoughts and the actions they use to express them.

"I want to go outside."--Puppy will demonstrate this by piddling on the carpet in small streams as he runs around the house, ignoring your calls of "wanna go outside?" When you finally leash him and get him down the stairs, he will wee on the stairs. Upon getting him outside he will become afraid of the snow and try to mate with your leg.

"I'm hungry."--Puppy will chew everything he can get his little fangs on. When you dump food into his bowl, he will ignore it and try to eat the cats' food instead.

"I'm sleepy."--Puppy will try to claw his way up onto your couch, and when he finally gets up will proceed to try to bite at your face and arms. He will then wait for you to scream "go to your basket or I'm selling you for medical experiments" to go to his basket and sleep. I think maybe violent threats are sort of like lullibies to puppies, because Lord only knows when I try to pet him to calm him down he gets all agitated.

"I want to hump."--Even though puppy does not quite have the equipment for such an action yet, puppy will proceed to latch onto the lady of the house and try to ride her leg. When she kicks him off, he will latch onto the other leg. It will continue for several minutes, him grasping her thighs and humping at the air while she spins around in circles trying to throw him off until she says "the hell with it" and drags him and her lame leg over to the fridge to get a beer. Repeat.

"I'm stupid."--Puppy will express this thought pretty much all of the time, whether is asking to go out, humping, or trying to molest the cats. Puppy will express this thought by chewing on virtually everything, including electrical cords, hair, and the bathroom wall.

"I don't know how my ancestors survived in the wild."--Perhaps the weirdest thing of all about dogs is that they've managed to come this far. They're afraid of everything when they're young, except that which can kill them. This is why they will gladly jump off a balcony without a second thought, but won't get their paws wet. They will eat things that aren't food, attack the cats and then crouch under the toilet hiding when they back him under it, despite the fact that the cats have their paws deadened by rubber claw-condoms called "soft claws." Puppies will express their genetic bastardization constantly by doing the dumbest things imaginable, and it's only their soft little fuzzy faces that keep us from wanting to strangle them.

I'm told he'll be better in a little while, and I guess compared to his brother "Gringo" he's not doing too badly. Still, I think Jerome, Louise and I will all be a little happier when he's not doing stupid things, like getting stuck behind the bed and crying at 2 am when there's clearly a large escape route right to his left, or flipping over his water dish and then crying because his water has touched the ground.

No, puppy ownership isn't for everyone.
Stephen Tyler Junior, grow up soon.

When I'm sick the only thing I want to eat is soup, so here's what I came up with, made out of stuff I found buried in my pantry. I'm one of those crazy people who throw stuff into a pot without measuring, so bear with me.

Fill a pot with a lot of water and add enough bullion/beef stock so that it tastes like it has flavor and isn't just salt water. Add some oil (I use Sesame oil but Olive oil is probably OK) and throw in some "Italian seasoning." A pack of salad dressing mix, some oregano, onion, garlic, parsley....enh, throw them all in there. Don't forget plenty of black pepper. Meanwhile, start another pot boiling and throw in some chicken to parboil. Chop up a mess 'o potatoes, celery, tomatoes...I threw in some canned and frozen beans and carrots since I don't keep a lot of fresh stuff this time of year. Toss those in as well. When the chicken's a uniform grey color, chop that up and throw it in the big pot. Add a lid and cook till the stuff's all soft and goopy. Add some macaroni noodles and cook for another 7-10 minutes. Salt and pepper and hot sauce to taste. Delicious, cheap, and total ghetto.

I used to have some chicken broth I "borrowed" from mom, and I made some delicious chicken soup/stew out of it last week, but alas, she wanted it back so until I haul my lazy ass to Drug Mart you're gonna have to hold off on the ghetto chicken soup recipe or the Hot and Sour soup recipe. Rest assured all are delicious.

I figure one day I'll know how to make all sort of soups, and I'll open a 24 restaurant that serves nothing but soup and sandwiches and tea. My clientele will be all old ladies and young ladies who act like old ladies, not that I know anyone like that (Jennifer Williams.)

Carry on.

I've been struggling with an almost-sinus cold and sort of scratchy throat for about three days now, so this morning when I woke up and felt sick to my stomach I just assumed it was my cooking, since sinus colds can't turn into the stomach flu, right? Last night I made these salmon patties which are DELICIOUS but upon further reflection (further reflection while I was laying on the bathroom floor this morning) they had a lot of bones in them. At least, more bones than I remember them having originally. I felt a lot better shortly afterwards, and decided to go in to work because I had some pressing things to attend to.

So I piled into my car with my tea and I proceeded to drive for about twenty minutes, when suddenly I knew I was in trouble. Big trouble. I swerved down a side street and pulled over, wondering if I was going to attract any cops. Lakewood is crawling with cops in the morning, but although several passed me, none actually stopped and questioned why I was throwing up in the street. Apparently it's totally normal to see people in office clothing hanging out of their cars at 7:30 in the morning. Lakewood IS supported primarly by bars and other such establishments. I suppose maybe it would be weird for them NOT to see at least one vomiting person a day.

Afterwards, I felt so much better! It must have only been the food I cooked last night! I'll be fine! I'm so close to work! I managed to make it to my parking spot in the flats when I realized I was in trouble again. I ended up turning around and going home, stopping one more time in Rocky River. Unfortunately that time I was not by bar alley, I was in front of school. There was a school bus, and the children were all yelling and pointing. I was probably the high point of the school year.

I finally made it home where I crawled into bed and slept until 3:00. I feel a lot better, and I've even eaten some crackers. My head still hurts, but at least I'm not in my car anymore because that really sucked.

So I TRIED to go into work today, I really did. See what happens when we attempt to suck it up and be responsible?

Unfortunately, the puppy does not understand the concept of "being sick" and is now humping my leg. I think I'm going to have to shoot him, as soon as I regain some strength in my trigger finger. Friggin puppies.

It might be the sinus cold speaking, but lately I've been seeing people I know in places they aren't. I'll be sitting at my desk, writing ransom notes to people whose property I have stolen working diligently, and someone will walk by who looks JUST LIKE someone I used to know years and years ago. This is dangerous for a variety of reasons.
1. Sometimes you're tempted to leap to your feet and throw yourself upon said lookalike, only to realize that the person is NOT your long lost college roommate.
2. It can be tempting to treat lookalikes as you would treat the person they remind you of, and they're often totally different.
3. When you realize that you're accosting someone who isn't who you THINK they are, it can be really hard to explain how you could fail to realize that this unknown person is in fact about 6 inches shorter and ten pounds heavier than your acquaintance.

Sometimes someone will remind you of a person you used to have a huge crush on, and that can be REALLY embarassing, especially if you tend to blush and/or giggle. I have a lady friend who shall remain nameless who spends an innordinate time at her job flirting with one of the reps because he looks like Dane Cook. I won't give away her identity, but she lives in Parma and had a slip and slide at her last birthday party.

Sometimes this mistaken identity thing works in reverse. For example, last week I was having a nice dinner at Johnny Malloy's, a local bar within walking distance where the beer is cheap and the food is free during happy hour. It's a good place to go when I'm low on groceries and don't feel like driving to Lorain to shop at the cheap store. Bryan and I were discussing an older gentleman we used to look up to and who later turned out to be...there's really no nice way to say this...a huge douche bag. We were getting quite into the conversation and were laughing. "What would we ever do if he showed up here?" we wondered aloud. Ha ha, indeed. Bryan got up to go to the mens' room and guess who he saw, stragetically sitting in such a way that he could see us, but we couldn't see him? Bingo! The person we'd just been speaking ill of. See, we went into a situation assuming we'd never see this person again, and there he was. Too bad it wasn't a case of mistaken identity.

For the record, we did nothing. I flashed a big grin in his direction, finished my beer, and the person promptly sneaked out once he realized he'd been made. For months I'd been jumping out of my skin whenever I saw a man who resembled this person, and when I actually saw him in person it didn't even register.

I think sometimes the idea of someone can be more powerful than that person in the flesh. When someone isn't around and you imagine how an encounter will go you're only able to use the memory of past encounters to fill in the blanks of your imaginary conversations, and your brain provides the rest. When you actually see someone in person, you don't have the same sort of creative control and therefore you feel totally different.

Sometimes that feeling of being unprepared can be good, such as when you're scared and angry and you harness that into giving you the appearance of being someone who shouldn't be messed with. Sometimes it's bad, such as when your dad asks you why you're buying a five gallon bucket, duct tape and a lot of tubing and the only answer than you can blurt out is "I'm making a bong." I wasn't---I was making wine for Christmas gifts, and I know he didn't believe me about the bong thing because he told me I was going about making it all wrong. Plus the wine turned out way too sweet and strong enough to get you drunk on contact, so that was sort of a bad idea in general.

In conclusion, I think everyone should wear nametags, so that I can tell who the hell you are and so I don't go leaping into the arms of the wrong person, or laughingly joking about spiking tires in front of the RIGHT person, not that I would ever do that, because that would be illegal.

If you ever want to become a high caliber nerd like myself, you're going to have to amp up your PBS consumption. I LOVE PBS. It's the same beautiful entity that brought me such wonders as Jack Horcheimer, Stargazer and "Katie and Orbie." If it weren't for PBS I never would have fallen in love with Red Dwarf, Dr. Who or Red Green. I think all PBS shows can be pretty much summed up under the category of "people in unattractive pants." This is one of the reasons I was so enamored with Rick Steves when I first saw his travels in Europe. The pants, the glasses, the slight lisp...ah, Rick Steves.

He's my hero. He wanders around Europe drinking and eating waffles. And he gets PAID to do this. I do it on Saturday mornings for free. I could dig out some high-waisted, pleated slacks, say to hell with it with my hair and booze up in some cobbled alley somewhere.

Of course, I don't. Me on camera would get pretty sad after about two minutes, and really, I'm just not sure I belong on PBS anyway. Sure, I'm a huge geek, but I'm not a geek from the 70s or the 80s, and I'm pretty sure that's another requirement.

Anyway, he's awesome, and if you want to be REALLY showered with geeky goodness, check out his special on France where he explains the Normandy Tapestry.

A salute, to waffles and beer!

Awhile ago I came up with a theory about people. I know what you're thinking, and no, it isn't a theory about how people are all jerks. People ARE all jerks, but I think everyone knows that by now and it's not really news or anything. In fact, a lot of times people make the news just by NOT being jerks, which is kind of cool. It works on the principle that if you keep peoples' standards really low, when you do the bare minimum everyone gets excited and gives you recognition and cash.

My theory may not give me recognition or cash, but it DOES make me feel better about wanting to eat pickles instead of cake.

You know what's weird? When people eat cake and coffee for breakfast and it's considered funny and quaint. "Oh ha ha. She's eating dessert first, isn't she a free spirit?" Yet when I want to eat pickles and tea, that's considered weird.

Maybe "weird" isn't the word. Maybe it's just unfair. Surely pickles, a rich source of potassium, are a better breakfast than cake?

I think this way because I am a Sour. I am a person who would prefer something vinegarey over something sweet. I eat pickles, olives, I add lemon juice to my water, and I love sour candy and tabasco sauce. Cake? Not so much. Soda? Makes me thirsty. However, give me a glass of unsweetened cherry kool-aid and I'll be in seventh heaven.

I noticed awhile ago that the boys I tend to find attractive are Sweets. They love things like chocolate pudding and cheesecake and sugar based cereals.

Naturally there are freak occurrances of Sweetness in Sours, and vice-versa. There are Sweets who love lemon drops (my friend Pat), and Sours who like cheesecake (my father.)

I think Sours tend to have more argumentative dispositions, and Sweets tend to be a little more tempered. Perhaps this is why Sweets and Sours like to pair up---Sours teach the Sweets to stand up and speak out more often, and Sweets keep Sours from getting arrested for making a disturbance.

I'm suppose this whole thing could fall under the category of opposites attracting, but the law of opposites tends to work a lot like the law of entropy. For example, I could argue that my socks are in "order" because they are in my drawer and not all over the living room, but I could also argue that they are in order when they are all over the living room because they are not all over Avon Lake. Are things REALLY working towards Chaos, or is Chaos another kind of Order? Opposites work in the same way in that you can find something opposite in any couple you encounter. Gender, eye color, dominant hand, The Who or Zepplin....well, you get the picture. I think the Sweet/Sour thing works on a level that's more structured and a lot harder to bastardize.

If anyone wants to give me lots and lots of grant money to flesh this out further, hell, be my guest. I'll try not to spend all the money on Jolly Ranchers, but I can't really promise anything.

Every year I swear up and down that I am not going to make a New Year's Resolution, and every year I always end up giving in and promising to change something, even if it's something as simple as replacing my contacts every two months, instead of wearing them until they actually rip on my eye. I never did actually keep that particular resolution, because contacts can be expensive, and if I'm cleaning them every night they should last at least until my insurance will cover another replacement set, right?

Last year I vowed to be less of a procrastinator, and I actually managed to improve in that area, which is very surprising since not procrastinating is surely harder than changing contacts more often. Nevertheless, I've become somewhat better at planning.

For some reason I've become unusually aerated about my apartment lately. I just feel that we have way more things than two people, two cats and one puppy should need. Take my stunning collection of really ratty old towels, for example. Certainly, one or two rags are handy to have around, but do I really need a dozen? It's not like I'm washing my car with them or anything. If the Good Lord wanted me to wash my car with my old t-shirts, he wouldn't have given us rain or the local Laser Wash.

I suddenly realized that my parents may be reading this, in which case I would like to say that the above sentence is a joke, and I wash the outside of my car every other day with bottled water and the finest chamois, not to mention the inside, which I keep as squeasky clean as my ladylike language. *shifty eyes*

This year I decided to resolve to be more organized. This entails the following:
1. Not throwing my "pill bills" (my medical receipts/invoices kept for tax purposes) on my desk in an unsightly heap, but rather scanning them and/or putting them into my spreadsheet as soon as they arrive, therefore saving me from that end of the year panic when I realize that I'm missing two months worth of stuff.
2. Doing laundry more regularly so that my clothes don't wrinkle so much that I rewash them rather than iron them.
3. Get an ironing board so that I CAN iron them.
4. Installing shelves.
5. Using the second bedroom/office AS a second bedroom/office. There's a desk in there somewhere, and I'm pretty sure things can go in the drawers as well as on the spare bed.

I figure if I accomplish three of those five goals I'll be doing well, or better than usual at least, and that's something.

I'd also like to at least start a financial plan to finish school, since my last semester was tragically cut short by sudden renal disease. Maybe I can scam earn some financial aid somehow, now that I'm all old and diseased.

I know this seems like a group of rather lofty goals, but I'd like to point out that all of them are very mature and not superficial at all, so I'm very proud of myself. It would be very easy to make my goal "finance liposuction for my cheeks" or "get boob job," but then I'd still have a messy desk and unorganized tax receipts and I'd still be stressed out and cluttered, only I wouldn't have a vaguely potato-shaped face anymore, and I could rest my file folders on my large breasts.

Hrm, actually my second idea is sounding more appealing by the minute. I wonder if having cheekbones and large breasts would help me pay for college? I mean, in some way that wouldn't involve adult film. Maybe I'll think on this. *strokes double chin*