I feel like DANCING.... in the streets! doo doo dooo doooo

Friday: Lunch with Desi and Jay at California Pizza Kitchen where we were given a slice of tiramisu with a strip of onion and lettuce. Mmm Yummy. Blegh,
Saturday: FLEET WEEK! Toured a ship and saw many many many marines/sailors [we all know how much Cathy loves her uniforms], BUT they were all mostly little itty bitty teeny boppers. However, we did run into a funny pair at Starbucks. Mr. Robot for Desi and Mr. Telephone Man for me. Oh, and Mr. Alabamanian for Sara.
Sunday: Shopping with Karen where I picked up very nonpractical strappy shoes. Oye. 
Monday: Picnic at Central Park with Sara, Desi and Jay. There was a lot munching on food with a side of volleyball and reading (for Desi and Jay anyways). Then we hit Chinatown for some taro bubble tea (shit I could use one now. It's so goddamn hot outside). Then we stopped by Bryant Park where we kicked Jay's ass in hangman. Woo hoo!

just STOP it. 

As Desi requested, here is The Cookie Culprit.

The assignment was to write a paper that displays your knowledge and understanding of antisocial disorder. My professor suggested we write a diary entry from the point of view of a patient with antisocial disorder. But being the rebel that I am, I came up with the following instead: 

The Cookie Culprit

         I am a cookie. I lived with my father, the Muffin Man. I was extremely grateful for his love of baked goods, since that was the reason for me being here today. I saw my friends, brownie with almond clusters, golden cupcake with butter cream frosting, and lemon poppy seed muffin, taken home by lovely people. I wonder what they’re all up to now. Whatever it is, I’m sure they’re having a delectable time. I longed for the day when I would find a human of my very own. That day came late one afternoon when a scout leader of the local boy scouts stopped by the bakery. He was looking for cookies for his scout group and I was just the cookie he had been looking for. Not that I could blame him though, not with my mouth watering chocolate chunks and my beautiful golden crisp dough. 
         My only interaction with the human world was with the Muffin Man. He was a kind-hearted man who always kept his creations tucked warmly in wax paper. He would always place me closest to the window where the lighting was the most flattering to my figure. I figured every human was as kind as the Muffin Man, but that was before I met Timmy. Timmy was one of the little boys who joined the boy scouts. He seemed like a sweet enough blue-eyed 12-year-old boy with wispy blonde locks. This year, the boy scouts decided to sell cookies door to door to raise money for their annual camping trip and I was assigned to Timmy. The other cookies and I were all placed in decorative tins to be sold. One morning, Timmy decided to take me out around the neighborhood. He replaced the other tins with rocks and resealed them. 
         There was a lovely old couple in the first house we knocked on. Timmy opened my tin to show that he was selling cookies for the boy scouts. I wanted to make a good impression so I brushed off any excess flour that might be showing and smoothed out my crumbs. The second the old couple saw me, they were hooked and bought two boxes. I was shocked as I watched Timmy hand the couple two tins filled with rocks. I heard Timmy’s low chuckle as we walked away. When we arrived home, he quickly hid the money under his mattress. Timmy never seemed bothered by the fact that he stole money from innocent people. He used me as his accomplice, shamelessly displaying my buttery goodness to draw in his unsuspecting victims. I don't want to toot my own horn, but I'm one scrumptious looking cookie.
        Timmy continued this process until he ran out of tins. He would then attend the weekly boy scouts meeting to refill his supply of cookies. Timmy had a bad temper that would flare at the slightest things.  He would always fight for the best-looking cookie tins. If Timmy felt the line was moving too slow, he would push his way to the front of the line, ready to fight off anyone in his way. Whenever we were at the meeting, he would always introduce himself as “Johnny Smith.” Johnny was Timmy’s only friend from his middle school. Timmy had no problem using his “friend’s” name as his alias. If someone caught on to his little scheme, it was better to have the blame fall on Johnny than him. Johnny was Timmy’s friend more out of fear than friendship. 
        I would often overhear Timmy talking to Johnny about Operation Cookie. However, one day, Timmy made the mistake of suggesting that Johnny should find new targets to go after instead of elderly couples. Timmy became instantly infuriated and shoved Johnny into a wall. He told Johnny to mind his own business. Johnny was doing them a favor. Most of them seemed ready to croak anyways, so they were probably not going to need the money. Why let it go to waste? Plus, Timmy liked cookies more so the cookies should clearly be his. As for the Boy Scouts, they had plenty of cookies to spare. They probably wouldn’t sell all of them anyways. Timmy was just taking the extra cookies off their hands. 
         After a few weeks of Operation Cookie, reports started to turn up about a serial cookie swindler. Once Timmy got wind of the reports, he wanted to quickly dispose of all the evidence. He ran home and took out his stash of hidden cookies. I couldn’t believe my chocolate chip eyes when he wolfed down the cookies, handfuls at a time. It was a cookie massacre! There were cookie crumbs everywhere! Then he turned to me. He saved me for last, seeing as how I was his accomplice for the whole ordeal he felt it was only right to save the best for last. 
        It’s funny that Timmy’s secret would die with me, the only witness to his cookie crimes. I braced myself as Timmy drew me closer and closer to his chocolate stained, crumb covered mouth. He slowly licked off a bit of chocolate chip that hung off his lower lip. I was a bit comforted as I thought to myself… By the rate Timmy was putting away those cookies, and if Karma was on my side, then I would soon see Timmy again… in a certain lavatory.

 Well today is the Pizza Participation Party at work! The office throws a pizza party for whoever is left at the office after practically everyone goes to the Annual Meeting in Washington D.C. It's kind of like "So sorry you couldn't go to Washington, but here's Pizza!" It's not such a bad consolation prize, especially since I'm such a big pizza fan!  I've never heard of a kosher pizza... but it all tastes the same to me. YUM! 

On another note.... every now and then I hear drilling and sawing in the background and I have NO idea where it's coming from.... I walked around trying to follow the sound but it's just so loud that it sounds like it's coming from everywhere! Super distracting... and annoying might I add. Back to work I go.

I 'm such an angry person. (Kashfi sooooo agrees). I walk around just plain angry.... through the halls at school, sitting in my cubicle at work, I'm even angry while I sleep! However, there's always a legitimate reason for my anger half the time... as for the other half, that's all me.

what the fuck! what the fuckity fuck fuck! I've only got two hands! (But for some reason people like to think that I have more! ) Therefore I can only do two things at a time.... maybe even three before I lose track of things and my work becomes really shitty. So seeing as how I'm expected to do FIVE things at the same time, nothing gets fully accomplished. However, I do have five tasks partially accomplished. But I wonder why... maybe because you motherfuckers happen to think I'm some kind of miracle worker. Let me just snap my fucking fingers and POOF, all fucking done. If someone does not die by the end of today, then that will be the fucking miracle!

I had my group meeting #5 for my abnormal presentation.... We accomplished quite a bit.... for example, we decided to rename the "hangman" game to "schizo-man." Then we decided what type of candy should be distributed to the winning team of schizo-man. Ah yes, very productive indeed. And all that only took 2 hrs. Phew. I thought we weren't going to get anything done.

Oh baby baby... baby baby.... 

Sexual healing.... 

Good songs.

Today is another boss free day and how shall I spend it? Well, writing about absolutely nothing of course! I betcha Desi is so happy she had me make this live journal because now she can read about how I do absolutely nothing on a daily basis.