Just a nice morning

I Need a Clone or There is Just Too Much Good Music on Spotify

These last two months have been hell on my social networking.  The people I work for have these arbitrary things they want me to do that involves me working for them and them paying me in return. Seeing as how the bitcoin phenomenon has yet to take hold in my personal currency exchange circles, I am forced to slave for the man.  That being said, as the admin of an awesome facebook page, a part time admin of another awesome facebook page, and the authority on all things politically incorrect, my time is spent being busy.  Sure, I could turn off facebook and quit browsing through the Top 100 Disco Hits of the '70s and '80s, but why?  There is nothing better than a little "White Line" while trying to belt out 4 hours of work in the remaining 30 minutes of my day that I didn't manage to waste due to my need to hear that song that goes "ooohhh ohhhw hooohh  ahhhh" YES! That one!  See, I had to bing the lyrics, then figure out which lyrics were correct, then go to wikipedia to figure out if that was the right year, then see if spotify even has it (which it probably does).  But for the record: Spotify does NOT have funny Hawaiin songs that you can share with your friend who is going to vacation in Hawaii WITHOUT you.  Now I have to go, I'm trying to figure out who sings that song that goes "Ammmmm  mmmmhhhmmm  aa  aaa  aaaaaa  aaaahhh"

It's the End of the World as We Know It or Why Michael Stipe is Smarter Than a Dead Mayan

Nutjobs have been predicting the end of the world for as long as we've had a world.  I'm quite sure that somewhere in the Bible there is a passage where Adam tells Eve "We could die tomorrow, how about a little afternoon delight?"  I think it's in Deuteronomy, but don't quote me on that.  The point being, why do we even give these people space in our head?  Sure, they're fun to laugh at and make jokes about and poke with sticks, but couldn't that time be better spent looking at videos of cats on YouTube?  The ways the world will end are so numerous that I find it hard to believe that someone may have actually discovered this world-ending phenomenon, but just got the date wrong.  These are but a few of the ways the world will end:
1. Space aliens will come to take the believers back to some planet and then death ray the rest of us into oblivion
2. God will strike us down with great vengeance and furious anger (wait, that might be Samuel Jackson that's pissed off)
3. Fire and brimstone will rain down upon us from the heavens in the form of space trash
4. Gays and lesbians will be free to roam the streets unashamed and God will strike us down with great vengeance and furious anger (that might just be Sara Palin)
5. Drink the Kool-Aid and don't worry about the rest of the evil evil evil world
6. Charles Manson
7. Asteroids
8. Y2K

Yes, this is but a small list of all the ways we could die.  But seriously, if the Mayans couldn't predict the Spanish, what makes them any better at predicting the end of the whole world?

Big Deal, I Overslept or Shut Up Until I've Had My Coffee!

I love the snooze button on my alarm clock.  We have a long-term relationship that only we understand.  I set my alarm clock to a certain time, but Snooze Button (SB) knows I really need about 27 more minutes of sleep parceled out in three 9-minute intervals.  SB totally gets me.  Hubs, on the other hand, is totally jealous of the relationship I have with SB.  I've known SB longer, but we're just friends.  He's not jealous.  Hubs is an early bird and he doesn't understand 9-minute intervals; I think because math confuses him.  So don't show up 6.5 minutes into my 2nd snooze without coffee in your hand. Seriously.  Especially don't infringe on me and SB's quality time with your annoying ass bitching about something stupid that you could easily do in the 11.5 minutes I have left with SB.  How inconsiderate of you!  So next time you come between me and SB, expect the alarm clock to brought into it, probably upside your head.  Then me and SB will get back to snoozing while you bleed out on the floor.  Fair warning.

I Hate Having my Picture Taken OR Someone Should Fire That Damn Photographer

Some people are just naturally photogenic.  These people post tons of pictures of themselves on FaceBook and Tumblr and their personal "Look at me I'm so Beautiful" website; pictures of them with the wind slightly tousling their long flowing locks and a serene setting with the waves just right or the tree in the perfect bloom and their ears don't stick out the side of their head at all.  That is not me.  No, don't worry, I'm not an ogre and I don't sport a unibrow.  In fact, more than once in my life I've been told how beautiful I am (by people not trying to sleep with me even!). But once that camera comes out my hair starts to revolt.  My ears grow twice their normal size. My nose grows. My makeup magically disappears. My clothes become disheveled and no matter if there is coffee around or not, some of it ends up on my shirt in a highly visible spot.  And when I try to smile one of my eyes gets all squunchy (that's a word, I'm sure) and the other one just stares ahead. It's terrible.  And there is no known cure.  Looking back across my childhood I see that the only good pictures of me that have ever been taken were in black and white and I wasn't smiling.  The grim look seems to suit me better.  Perhaps I was never meant to be in technicolor.  Or maybe you just can't contain all this awesomeness in one little print.