Tuesday, July 27, 2010

I'm watching Criminal Minds again.

Dear Dr. Spencer Reid,

I love you. I really do. You're smart and incredibly cute. You have amazing hair and a great smile and did I mention how fucking smart you are? Gosh, you're a genius and it's so hot. Every time you spout off a statistic or correct some random fact it makes me love you more.

If you were a real character I'd marry the fuck out of you.

I love it whenever you use your immense intelligence to stop a killer, rather than just shoot them or use brute force. Your brain is your greatest weapon and I love you for it.

You're like a crime-fighting super genius sex god. Marry me and we can have like a gazillion babies. (or, a googol. I'm sure you appreciate the nerd humor. However, I doubt I can have that many babies.)

If you don't want kids, I am more than willing to learn at your (presumably hot) feet.

Sincerely,

Shayla.





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Spencer looks all carefree and intellectual. I promise I'm not crazy.

Thursday, July 22, 2010

I promise I grew up to be normal. Sort of.

This is my first entry and I'm excited. I feel the almost unbearable pressure to be hilariously funny. Unfortunately, I'm watching an episode of Criminal Minds so my attention is split. I can't make up some funny story to write, so I'll write about something real that happened to me as a child and hope that anyone who reads it will wet their pants laughing.

Okay, a commercial just came on for flood insurance, and I definitely thought I heard the woman say her company covered sluts. Who needs slut insurance?

Anyway, childhood story. Hopefully, hilarity will ensue.

So when I was younger, it was my family's tradition to go out to eat on my birthday. I can't remember exactly how old I was, maybe four or five, but that year I decided I wanted to go to Ryan's Steakhouse. (They had a make your own taco bar. Who doesn't love tacos?)

I was a rather... precocious child. I think I just didn't know I wasn't an adult. My mother and my grandmother both talked to me like they would an adult, and since I'm an only child, I had almost zero interaction with other children.

So there I sat, with a frilly pink princess dress on. (I also thought I was a princess. Keep track. I thought I was an adult AND a princess.) I wore my white tights and white Mary Janes with a little silver tiara. I waited for the waitress to come and ask us what type of drink I wanted and to possibly tell me happy birthday. I think I wanted to impress her with how grown up I was.

When the waitress came and took our drink orders I decided that the best method of impressing her with my maturity and intelligence was to talk to her the way my mom talked to me. So, when it was my turn to place my order, I turned to her with a serious face and said, "You know I'm an abused child?"

The waitress spied on us throughout the entire meal.