Selections from an email exchange between friends:

I called him at NINE to see if he wanted to hang out. Fast fwd to 11:15 PM & he finally comes to pick me up. I was so sleepy (see my previous "Help, I have your sleep disorder!!" email), I figured a Red Bull would be a mere drop in the bucket -- WRONG. SO wrong. Luckily, he & his out of town guests were in it to win it, too, and so everybody is just now headed to bed after killing a 12 pack of Bud Light -- WITH LIME (ew), 1 entire bottle of Berringer white zin (oh God, college), and 3/4ths of another bottle of white zin (oh God, more college). Now I'm sitting outside basically sober, smoking a cigarette & trying to entice the neighbor's dog to come over so I can pat him on the head. (He's not buying it, though, & continues to eat grass in the front yard.) A neighbor just came outside, calling for Nick. I think that's the dog. A dog named Nick. I'm oddly amused. Yeah, the dog is DEFINITELY Nick. "Nick, come here RIGHT NOW!" etc. Hahaha. Also, I hope the neighbor doesn't decide to come over & get chatty w/ the stranger sitting on Jonathan's patio at 6:45 am, b/c I'm in no mood to be neighborly with strangers.

...

Holy fuck (by the way, I just typed "Wholy fuck!", and was like,
wait...)! I haven't gotten an email this long from you since I DON'T
KNOW WHEN.

...

I'm sure you know this, but I love when people give animals human names. And, like, names you regularly run across in casual conversation: Nick, Eric, KEITH. (One day, one of us WILL have a pet named Keith, I declare it. And by one of us, I mean me. That'll be the cat I get AFTER my Scottish Fold named Push Pin, which will be after I move out, which will be never, so you know. Yay! "And this? This is my imaginary bunny. Named Keith. Would you like to pet him? He's really imaginarily soft!")
In my drunken stupor last night, I left Dan a message on his wall, telling him "I totes understand about not being able to drive. I'm sure we can make some arrangements -- if you're not gonna bail, that is," with "totes" being my weirdo web speak for the word totally & something I try really hard to keep on the d/l in polite company, because not everybody gets it, and now that's all I'm hearing from him is "I'm not bailing....totes!" and, when I called him a smart ass, "What? I'm serious....totes serious!" Lordy. Do boys EVER grow up?? In other news, I think she is HIS AMPUTEE ROOMMATE. You totally wanna go to the party now, don't you?? (BTW, I just had to Google the word amputee to make sure I spelled it right, and you just don't wanna KNOW the shit it pulled up.) Also I just have to tell you that someone has flipped my poop switch and I CAN'T FIGURE OUT HOW TO SHUT IT OFF. I'm SERIOUS. PS: This email thread alone makes me hope and pray and hope and pray that somebody somewhere at your company is screening your emails, b/c this is what all snoopers hope for when they get into the business. Emails about amputees and pooping.

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OH MY GOD AMPUTEES! CANCER!!!11 AAAAIIIIIIEEEEEEE!!!!117 You need sleep. I mean, if we were together right now, I would totally be on your level on account of I had some sleep and then I just had a cinnamon crunch bagel and a huge cup of coffee, but then around 11 you’d pass out and I’d be like, “Okay, now it’s time for Mexican.” “Totes?” “Totes?” “Totes?” Word's lost all meaning for me. He will probably never grow up; that is just him. I bet when he typed it he did his little squinty eyed laugh. I think it’s funny that he could even figure it out. If you want to pull out some 13-year-old, inside humor you could reply that he needs to drink his boooooooooost. You have to say it like that, Drink yer boooooooooooooost!

...

I bet he had to Google the phrase "internet slang" and "totes" to figure it out. Was it a cinnamon crunch bagel from Panera? Because I love that shit, except for when they sit in the break room for 8 straight hours and you go to the bathroom and the office smells like cinnamon crunch bagel and you come back from the bathroom and the office smells like cinnamon crunch bagel and you go to lunch and the office smells like cinnamon crunch bagel and you come back from lunch and the office smells like cinnamon crunch bagel until you want to Lysol every inch of your body because EVERYTHING SMELLS LIKE CINNAMON CRUNCH BAGELS. But. They are delicious. "A lighter: you have one?" Dude, I will never NOT love this. ALSO. WHAT THE FUCK WAS UP WITH THAT DRESS, MAN?? WAS SHE SAVING IT FOR LUKE PERRY, ER, I MEAN, ESPECIALLY, VERY SPECIFIC VAMPIRE SEX WITH BILL COMPTON???? That's got to be, hands down, the single ODDEST choice of wardrobe I've probably ever seen in a TV show. & I mean, it's not like she just APPEARED with it on! We had to SEE her picking that shit out! Intentionally! Some costume designer somewhere put SHITTONS OF THOUGHT! into Sookie's psychology behind that choice! In other news, I bet Bill was like "Awww, yeah! I get to fuck Maid Marian! Holla!"

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First, yes, Panera cinnamon crunch. So, so good. I just went to the bathroom and found some of the crunch IN MY UNDERWEAR. That is not a joke- it is TOTES for realz. And yeah, after Jason and I watched the possum episode we sat at the table making funny dialogue and it was hilarious. And the dress! I was immediately like, “Where did she get that? A Rembrandt Fair?” And Jason was like, “Yes, that is exactly what they’re called, Buffy: a Rembrandt Fair.” And I was like, “Oh, what’s it called? What are those called?” He had to tell me IT'S A RENAISSANCE FAIR, BUFFY ‘cause I couldn’t remember. And that dress is fucking stupid as hell. Also, due to my facebook status and the ensuing comments yesterday, I will forever use the phrase “hanging up one’s meat coat” to refer to people who have become vegetarian. As in, Jason hung up his meat coat.

...

Well thank God you're going with the G-rated version. I was afraid it was gonna be the new "beef peach" -- gack.

Had I mentioned that Marianna Jones is what he calls Indiana Jones?

So a few weeks ago Reed suddenly dropped what he was doing and said, "I gotta go use it!" which means he had to go to the potty. He then specified, "I gotta go POOP."

So he went and sat on the toilet for a while. Suddenly he yelled, "Mommy! Daddy! Come here and look at this!"

It's always fun to get called into the bathroom to "look" at something.

So we go and he is standing in front of the potty, pointing into it, vibrating with excitement.

"Mommy, daddy, loooook! I made a Marianna Jones snake!"

Part Two.

This is Part Two of our trip to Costa Rica. Part One is here.

So we're standing at the bus terminal with all our luggage with no clue what to do. This Costa Rican cab driver who barely speaks English starts shaking us down to take us to Puntarenas for $100. We are hesitant, and he finally says $80, and we take it (keep in mind it's a two-hour drive). The four of us and our five suitcases squeeze into his tiny red car and take off for Puntarenas. He is playing a mix cd that is all American 70's and 80's music and includes Journey's Faithfully and Billy Idol's Eyes Without a Face. He drives like a mad man to try and get us to the nine o'clock ferry. I fall asleep about half-way there. When I wake up we're pulling up to the ferry terminal as the ferry is pulling away. They tell me that the only reason we missed it is because some bitch on a scooter was driving really slowly and wouldn't let us pass.

So there we are, standing in the middle of the street with five suitcases, and the cab driver points out a restaurant where the food is supposed to be good. We drag all our shit up the long, metal staircase and take a seat in a lovely, open-air place that overlooks the water. The next ferry leaves at twelve, so we have a few hours to kill. We order gallo pinto with juevos, with sour cream, or with beef in sauce, and the waiter suggested we use this sauce. It is GOOD STUFF. We eat slowly and drink hot, strong coffee and smoke cigarettes until twelve.

It is HOT on the ferry, espcecially after dragging all those suitcases up the black, metal stairs. We sit inside and rest. I realize that I still get a little seasick, and curse everyone who ever told me that really big boats don't rock. YES THEY DO.

We get to Paquera and it is HOT. Dripping sweat. A swarthy little man tells us he'll take us to Montezuma for $50. He points at his SUV and says, "That's me." We take him up on it.

He proceeds to take us on one of the wildest rides I've ever been on (from this Wikitravel article: Driving in Costa Rica is, by American standards, dangerous. Costa Rica has one of the highest deaths by car accidents in the world.). He drives very fast on small dirt roads, passing people and honking and giving them dirty looks. He keeps giving us the thumbs-up and saying, "Montezuma! Pura Vida!" (from this article: Costa Ricans use the phrase to express a philosophy of strong community, perseverance, good spirits, enjoying life slowly, celebrating good fortune, whether small or large.)
He turns off the main road onto a red clay road that is so bumpy, so much like off-roading, and Kristi says, "Um, is this a short cut?" He replies, "Si. SHORT CUT." When we discuss it later, we realize that we were all thinking the same thing: he was taking us out into the woods to rob us and maybe kill us.

What happens next? More tomorrow.

The result of an "isolated malicious act."

I was reading this blog and discovered that Tucson viewers of the Superbowl were treated to about 30 seconds of free porn. First, NO FAIR I didn't get any free porn. Second, the article is HILARIOUS if you have the right kind of sense of humor, meaning a wrong sense of humor.

In light of the incident, Comcast says it will issue a $10 credit to any customers who say they viewed the 30-second clip, which featured full male nudity. (SEE BOX) I don't know why I think "SEE BOX" in this context is so funny; I just do.

The Star newsroom was flooded with calls Sunday night from irate viewers who said that the porn cut into the game with less than three minutes left to play. The issue wasn't that there was porn, it was that it cut in to the MOST IMPORTANT PART OF THE GAME.

Callers said that the clip showed a woman unzipping a man’s pants, followed by a graphic act between the two...The Super Bowl was being shown locally on KVOA. The station sends its signals...to Cox Communications. Cox Communications. Perfect.

I don't know how I didn't know about this, but I missed it somehow, and I find it to be hilarious.

Cleaning out my text messages...

- Bottletree. Soul dj. No cover.

- Victoria Beckham has a two million dollar vibrator. It's solid platinum with a diamond-encrusted base and a 16 karat diamond necklace which begs the question- a necklace? Really?

- I just got blatantly and obviously hit on by a middle aged Greek dude who sounded like Balkie and looked like my uncle. FAIL.

- I bought a vest last night. I'm not sure what's become of me but I love it.

- Side bun is our band name.

- Out the side doe, with the other hootchies.

- Watch Fox 6 news to see my ass selling flowers.

- I love seeing rich ladies jogging in Mountain Brook, almost falling over from all the Prozac.

- Oo, yur like the sun, chasin all the rain away.

- Want to come watch me cry, drink, and make cufflinks?

- I just got off work and am driving through a monsoon. I'll call you when I find out if we are going to make it.

*And yes, the idea to post these came from Miss Sara.