{Subliminal Silence}
If I had a world of my own, everything would be nonsense. Nothing would be what it is, because everything would be what it isn't. And contrary-wise; what it is, it wouldn't be, and what it wouldn't be, it would. You see?
Disclaimer: If I know you, your name might show up here. Problems? Stop doing stupid stuff.
contact me

I like email

Rules of the Blog
My List
Good Stuff

Real World
Hard Artist
Enhanced Shenanigans

Brought to you by:

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?


Totally unlike me to dwell on bad, so I am pushing the last post down .... I got an email from my friend who is now in Kuwait, and since it was a non secure site he gave me a puzzle to figure out the date he was coming home. The crucial part was to find his birthdate, so I called his parents, who I have never met but I have talked to. I think it is incredibly sweet how older people can just talk and talk and talk. She spent 5 minutes talking about how badly they want to meet me because she "knows Kevin misses me and thinks the world of me". She spent 5 minutes talking about her health problems, and another 5 talking about going ons in my old town. She eventually gave me the date and it turns out that Kevin will be home in 8 days. Turns out I can't go to meet him when he comes back because Melanie might be upset if she gets back from Europe and there is no one to pick her up at the airport. I am still weighing the option, she would have to get over it, right? We have public transportation after all.

anyway, KEVIN WILL BE HOME AFTER OVER A YEAR!!!!!! Poor guy, I am going to have to plan out a great time for him. I am thinking beer and prostitutes. Is there anything that I might be missing in these plans?
Update on last post... I finally stopped crying, well kinda, and Brad is the best friend a person could ask for, seriously, if you are out shopping for prime friendship, ask the guy at the counter for a Brad..... not only did he call immediately, he was willing to blow off the government class he was in today to come hang out with me. THAT'S A FRIEND! Of course I said no because my tax dollars are paying for that crap.
How cool is it to wake up to your sister calling you to tell you really bad news your mother couldn't bring herself to tell you? My stupid ass called home immediately and since I was literally bawling and blubbering like a three year old who lost their favorite toy, my mother was sensitive enough to tell me things might not be this way if I had come home this week like she wanted me too. Apparently I am powerful enough to even determine death. WHO KNEW?

Now I need to figure out how to stop crying before free beer. There is nothing more pathetic than a girl crying while drinking beer, especially with how snotty crying makes me.

I blame Mariah Carey!



Spanky the Clown is going up the river for child porn. Just one more reason to not trust those scary freaky beings. Them and sock monkeys. And maybe Mr. Potato head, and Mariah Carey. But gnomes are ok, I swear.

Wanna know what else scares me? The fact that one day Jello won't exist. I mean Bill Cosby is probably going to die one day and surely the product will die with him. He hadn't even died yet when he was responsible for the death of Mortimer Icabod Marker, who by the way was my only favorite childhood friend. Bill would like you to think that Mortimer had to go away because keyboards took over the world, but I am smart enough to know that Bill sold out and turned the cute little Bee pen into a pudding pop, but I am not one to start trouble so forget I mentioned that. I am sure the Statute of Limitations on killing a pen is up anyway.

While we are talking about my alcoholism, I should mention that Belle has stepped up to the plate and agreed to be my sponsor, since it has become taxing to count my number of sober hours. I think I am up to exactly 48.398 hours. She did, however, admit that if I had a bottle of wine and The WB, she would drink with me, and that shows she is good reliable sponser. I think we need to add Mandy Moore movies to the list too, but that is just my own preference since I am addicted to all her movies, except How to Deal which was, sadly, not about slinging crack.

Well I need to get my glo worm since I just realized that I typed Mariah Carey, now twice, and that means I have opened the portal to all that is evil and surely something really bad will happen to me while I sleep if I don't have a night light. Oh and maybe I will drink a beer for my fall'n homey Mortimer. Belle Start at zero tomorrow.
Do I REALLY need a pool before I get a Pool Boy?
I really want a pool boy. Talking about mental disorders, I just cleaned my apartment and found my dominos, and realized that I don't have anyone to play Dominos with ever since the "Domino incident of 2003" with Melanie, the gloomy day where she decided that she hated me and my dominos.

So here is your assignment, send me a pool boy and someone to play dominos with (they can not be the same person, for they will serve VERY different purposes). Oh and have the pool boy bring me a banana slurpee, and maybe a shrek sunday from baskin robins. And have the Domino player bring some Mrs. Butterworth so Archibald has someone to hang out with too. Thanks loads.
I just saw a giraffe get born on Animal Planet. And all I have to say is thank goodness we don't enter the earth by being dropped 6 feet to the ground into a puddle of nasty goo. Also, it is probably nice that when humans give birth they don't have to hang out for 2 hours with nothing but hooves hanging out of their vagina. Yea I know that is gross, but it was like a car accident and I couldn't turn away and since I was traumatized, I had to share.



Brad and I were just walking into my apartment and I was naturally bitching about how hot it was and how I really thought that my skin was about to melt off my body or maybe spontaneously bust into flames, and he says "Maybe it is time to go get some beer".

My reply "I might need a few hours before I can start going again"

WOW... i am turning a new leaf.

Now we are playing Mad libs and the question was "Team position" and for some reason Brad doesn't think that Doggy Style is considered a team position. Can't a team be just two people?



Today I actually said "This is how rug burn happens".... and I was talking about play fighting. WHAT HAS HAPPENED TO ME?!?



I was talking online with Rubina, and she sent me this. It might be the best thing in the world... It is kinda long but oh so worth it. If you turn it off early you will miss the best part.

Also, if you don't like to read, at least read the captions of the pictures.

I am going to hell.
I was just on my way home jamming out to "Dancing with Myself" and I got the eeriest feeling like I was having too much fun and Buffalo Bill was going to be in my parking lot when I got home and I was going to have to help him put a couch in his kidnapper van. But then I realized that I am not fat, and he only likes fat girls for the surface area, thank goodness, becuase I don't feel that the lotion belongs in the basket. So, anyway, the fear subsided and i continued dancing.
-The End-


Last night there were more people sleeping in my apartment than there were empty beer bottles. This is funny because my apartment is the size of a peanut shell, and Brad told a bedtime story that lasted over an hour about Chip and Curtis the chipmucks and somehow Sacagawea ended up being a main character, only Brad wasn't allowed to say her name because when he did the story would stop for another 10 minutes for laughter because there was something so funny about that name. Oh yea and William Wallace came by and would not stop introducing himself. It was good times.

All this was after free beer and the free beer after party where some bitch girl told Melanie and I to die, simply because she had problems listening to the actual words coming out of our mouths. It is always funny when ignorant people talk about their thoughts on ignorant people. She was apparently better than us and above us on many levels, or so she said. But we concluded that maybe she just really really sucked and is no longer worthy of talking in our direction.


So I have been juggling time with Brad, Melanie, and Duece (All came in town the same day), so the blog has suffered my attention.

I saw Shrek 2 last night and, though not as good as the first one and doesn't even touch the Toy Stories, it was really good. They even threw in a "walks into a bar joke", just for me.

I also have been drinking quite a bit. You might think this in not abnormal but something happens when Brad and I get together and somehow we can drink kegs. We stayed up and drank til 4 on Tuesday. I know everything that happened that night, but it seems like I might have made all of it up. At some point Melanie called THE BOY, and invited him over, while Lurker Boy was here.... I think it has something to do with a private conversation Mel had with Lurker Boy or it might have to do with the fact we had been drinking for 6 hours.

I might have my next year of grad school paid for simply because the Doc I have a crush on wants me, or maybe it has something to do with a grant.

AND: OOOPPPSS!!!! yea that's right, I have done it again, I am in a situation I have a feeling I shouldn't be, but am a bit confused on how to get out of it. Stay tuned for story on this one.


A couple of months ago, Marci asked me to write a guest post about my favorite "Marci Moment." I don't have one - I have lots!

-Marci and I liked to get to school early so we could take off our shoes, get a running start and slide on sock feet until we fell on our asses at the end of the freshly waxed hallway floor.

-Marci and I used to get stoned and go to our Mass Media class - Where we watched Little Big Man. I don't remember anything from that movie except for Marci and I cracking up when Dustin Hoffman said "Hmmmm...I must go and smoke with him."

-We laughed at a smooshed raisin, and the words "hamburger" and "side of fries" until we were hysterical.

-I used to make my mom pack me bologna sandwiches just so Marci and I could throw the balogna onto the ceiling and make it stick. We also put baloney in some guys locker. He apparently got mono, didn't come to school for awhile, and the balogna rotted inside his locker.

-Our favorite show was "Animaniacs," particuarly the "Randy Beaman" sequences.

-Marci named her first car "Kirby." She made gulping noises whenever she pumped gas and let out a "Mmmmmmmm!" when she was done to emulate Kirby's eating.

-We once trolled USF dorms door-to-door for pot, took cookies from guys who lived in the dorms and made them play the drums for us.

_Marci and I once picked up a guy who worked in a Sno-Cone shack (I think). Then, we decided to meet this absolute stranger later on that night. We didn't think it odd that he asked us to go to an empty lot behind a Kash 'n' Karry and scream his name in order to get in touch with him. We we yelled, lo and behold, he emerged from some bushes and led us back to (thinking back) the creepiest party ever. I don't think these people actually lived there. In fact, I don't think there was electricity. I could be wrong. Almost no one was conscious except this dude, we'll call him "Dirty Mike." After we became bored of sitting and watching this guy play with a cap of his beer bottle, we decided to sneak into an apartment complex to get in the hot tub with aforementioned creepy guy (Why we aren't dead on the side of the road is another question). Before we got into the hot tub, there was a pair of old women in there who shouted "Stop! Don't get any closer! We don't have any clothes on!" As we stifled our laughter, the ladies put back on their bathing suits and waddled out. Then, Marci, "Dirty Mike", and I proceeded to get in the hot tub with nothing but our panties on (again - why aren't we dead in a ditch?). It was time to go home, and "Dirty Mike" needed a ride, so we drove him until Marci realized how late it was, pulled over on this deserted road in the middle of nowhere, told him this was as far as we could take him and we drove off, keeping his Van Morrison tape and drying our panties (inexplicably) on Kirby's antennae.

And that, my friends, is my favorite Marci moment.

Your's truly and quite insanely,


When your friend moves back to town and he says "Is 2:00 too early for beer?" The correct reply is "HELL NO, LET'S GO". That is why we are friends, although I am a bit concearned that he had to ask.

We are sitting here drinking, come on over if you want too.
While chatting with Grant this morning, I realized the Easter Bunny is a total atheist. I think this is knowledge I should share with the world. Seriously, Jesus dies and this big pansy bunny comes in and gives you candy, and totally upstages the resurrection.

Funny his plan worked, I believed in him longer than I did a man rising up from the dead, but it might have more to do with my mom leaving cotton balls around the house on Easter morning. Although, that just made me think he got in a fight with the dogs once a year and I worried for the rest of the year if my dogs had killed him or not.



The the albino, freckled guy with horrible laugh, the calculator watch, boat shoes, shorts, a t-shirt that says "talk nerdy to me", an unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt over it.


Me, who sat for 3 hours saying, "Good God! This is a blog post just waiting to happen".

Also, in the "Fun Things Marci Found Out This Weekend" portion:

* Tim Burton is remaking Willy Wonka, and Johnny Depp is the new Gene Wilder, AND as if it is not exciting enough to think about Midgets through the eyes of Tim Burton, I did a little research and the screen play is written by John August, who happens to be the writer of GO, and if that does not impress you, we can't be friends.

* Trojan has a new commercial where they say "bump boyees", but I can't tell if the product or the commercial is better.



Do you ever wonder, when watching older sitcoms where the laugh track is? I was just watching (I am so embarrassed) Full House and at the end when the sappy music played, and Danny was telling Stephanie that he would love her no matter what she did, Stephanie replied:

"How can you love me when I drove Joey's car and broke the house?"

Now that is funny but they forgot to play the laugh track. And furthermore, why didn't Danny say "you're right, get the hell out of my house".

I would be worried about the way I have chosen to spend my time lately, but Melanie will once again live in GA in 3 days so my day time alone time can finally end, and maybe some sanity will return.
Dear midget wantabee that pretends to mow the lawn outside my window at 7am, 4 times a week,

You are so lucky that I am not a violent person or maybe that gas is $2 a gallon, because this morning I finally got sick of you and had the urge to change up the water for gasoline in my water balloons, and play "light the annoying man on fire". Don't take this too personally, but I hope you die.

Deepest love,


When you are freaking out about something and a friend calls and you explain what is going on to him, and he offers to put his brain to it and try to help you come up with a conclusion....

If you say: "no don't worry about it, I will just roll with the punches"

Be prepared for them to say "well get ready to get knocked the fuck out then".

I have always wanted to start my own cult so people could freely worship me, give me money, and to help me avoid paying taxes.... but as normal with all of my good ideas, someone beat me to it. Here are the commandments of the perfect cult, brought to you by the geniuses over at the beer church.

1. "Thou shalt have no other gods before me."
This means that it is okay to like wine, or whiskey, or what have you, but you must love Beer above all others.

2. "Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image."
Remember those hats that were vaguely popular back in the 70’s? The hats that were made of macramé and old beer cans? Don’t do that.

3. "Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain."
No beer bashing. Never say things like, "fuck beer" or "beer sucks." Also, try to refrain from dissin’ on beers that you yourself would not chose to drink. For instance, you may not like Hamms, but that does not mean it sucks. It simply means that you don’t like it. Someone else does. All beers have their place. Just because it’s place is not in your fridge, that doesn’t mean you should call it names. That creates bad beer karma. An example: Upon first tasting a premium American lager, a famous English humorist once said, "Put it back in the horse!" Not long after that, while adventuring in New Guinea, he found himself stripped naked, lathered in honey, tied to a pole and fed to vicious hordes of fire ants for the amusement of a native tribe. Fire ants go for the "soft" tissue first. Ouch.

4. "Remember the sabbath day, to keep it holy."
There are two reasons why you should not work on Sunday: Hangovers and the NFL.

5. "Honour thy father and thy mother:"
I grew up around Seattle. That means my Dad had to choose between being a Rainier man, or a Oly man. My Dad was a Rainier man. I respect that. My Mom sometimes adds a couple pinches of salt to a glass of draught beer. She doesn’t really have a reason, she just likes it that way. That’s cool. And if your parents don’t drink beer, it's okay to pity them as long as you honor them by having a cold one in their name!

6. "Thou shalt not kill."
Do not waste beer. We all joke about "party fouls," but truthfully we should morn the loss of a perfectly good beer.

7. "Thou shalt not commit adultery."
In short, this means that you should never aspire to be President. That station in life will open you up to far too much scrutiny. No job in the world is tougher to do, and no job will expose you to such high levels of stress. It therefore follows that no job will make you want a beer more than being President. Also, since beer is easier to obtain when you are a person of such significant power, it is a bizarre twist of fate that being President so seriously hampers your ability to drink freely. Something as simple as drinking a beer in the Oval Office will likely cause a hyper-political media backlash and you will be forced to apologize to a nation of ungrateful people who likely would have done the exact same thing given the opportunity.

8. "Thou shalt not steal."
This one is pretty obvious. Don’t steal someone else’s beer. Always share the last bit in the pitcher evenly. When splitting a 6 pack with someone, don’t drink extra fast just so you can have 4 beers. Respect your fellow human being’s appreciation of beer.

9. "Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbour."
This means that you should always invite, or at least advise, your neighbors when you have a party.

10. "Thou shalt not covet thy neighbour's house, nor anything that is thy neighbour's."
There is no reason to be jealous of, or to harbor ill will for your neighbor just because he has beer. You can have beer too. Every grocery store and every convenience store has got beer for sale to the public, and you are free to go there and get some beer of your own. However, if your neighbor has got a stainless steel Snap-On Beer Fridge and a urinal in his carpeted garage, nobody will blame you for being jealous.
Vanity is a sin, but ugliness is unforgivable.



Last night I found out my soul was plaid. Maybe I found this out in a dream, but hey me subconscious doesn't lie. If it did then I would have to accept the fact that I have never been to Fraggle Rock, and I am not ready for this type of reality at this stage of life. And maybe the dream entailed Lurker Boy stealing my soul, but hey can I really be mad, if I found out someone had a plaid soul, I would try to steal it too, and he already stole my sense of humor so why not my soul too. So anyway my soul is plaid, and that is one of my favorite colors, so i am in the best mood today. Sure you say "plaid is not a color".... but I bet if I put the mathematician, we will call him Chode Boy, on the case he would find a mathematical way to prove plaid is in fact a color.

Speaking of Chode Boy, if you are reading this .... click here in order to get REALLY mad. Or the 5th definition down with a different spelling is pretty good too. It seems I need to study up on my slang, i thought a chode was simply an imp, but no, not with today's youth.


It is not at all weird that my day has consisted of spending one hour fixing my Tiara and then another hour dancing around to Billy Idol doing the rebel yell, wanting mo mo mo, wearing said Tiara and then spending another hour wanting meatballs, is it?

Well, while you decide I am going to get stuff to make meatballs, also be thinking of good "meatball making music". I need something appropriate for occasion.
Dear Next Door Neighbor,

THANK YOU!!!! Last night, when I might have been making too much noise late at night, it was like you were reading my mind. You jumped up and cranked your music at top volume through my wall at the exact moment I was wanting a sound track. You really are the best neighbor in the world. I have never had someone so thoughtful living next door, and i am happy to have you there, but next time could you play something decent. Your choice was almost like you were trying to shut me up, but I know you are cooler than that.

Yours truly,

Last night I played softball and I have never actually seen anyone hit the ball and tag then self out without even moving. But I guess I am pretty amazing and good at the impossible. I am like Charlie Brown trying to play softball, only I can't even blame Lucy for my lack of skill.
There are quite a few things that are going wrong in my life, ie:
* I am probably not going to get my internship
* I am poor
* I can't for the life of me figure out how to take the sunrise and sprinkle it in dew and cover it in chocolate, and this sucks because when I get kicked out of school I figured I would become the candy man, but it is looking bleak for me.
* My liver is curling up and dying as I type this.
* I found out that I might be a pro bono prostitute.
* My tiara broke, ONCE AGAIN.

On top of all these things I am going to MAYBE meet up with THE BOY today, because after he called me every half hour last night for 4 hours, and I guess Lurker Boy was getting tired of it and finally told me just to call him back. So I went off and talked to THE BOY for a minute, and it turns out he (no surprise) wanted to come pick me up and go get coffee because he "had something he really needed to talk to me about". (Here is the suprising part) I said no. I asked him to just tell me and he claimed it was not a phone type of thing so I agreed to meet him today.
Now here is the question. WHY IN THE HELL AM I GOING TO MEET HIM? I already have a good clue what he is going to say, and I have a feeling he is not going to be offering me a midget as his going away gift to me. You would think history would be my lesson on this one, but I always hated that class.

Also I might not feel so bad if i was able to lie, and I didn't feel the urge to tell Lurker Boy everything, but unless you are my mother, I find it impossible not to tell you every detail of things. It is like i was mel Gibson in a past life and some one shot me up with truth serum that lasted into this life. Why couldn't I have been Mel during Casper in a past life then I would at least get to hang out with Christina Ricci.


I accidentally got my sister drunk this weekend. It is strange that I am younger and I am the bad influence. Another thing I did was make her watch Talk Sex with Sue Johanson, where I found out that she had never heard of a butt plug. How strange I had to explain to my older sister what that was, but hey I am all about diversity of knowledge. I let her talk me into letting her meet Lurker Boy, which is generally taboo in my family. They have not met anyone I hang out with since I left the house at 17. But she met him and I guess she liked him well enough. Her one main comment was:

"He is really quiet, which I guess is good for you because you never shut up, and he probably wouldn't have a chance to talk even if he wanted to."


My sister is flying in the spend the weekend with me. This could be a good time, other than the fact that I have to spend tomorrow shopping... Not only shopping, but shopping for a brides maid dress. Oh the over whelming excitement I feel . It is almost to the level of the last time I went the the gynecologist, only no one is going to be touching my chest on this trip.

Anyway, my sister is coming in town and I don't know that I have ever hung out with her for a weekend. Much less seen her for more than a day in years, due to my habit of getting kicked out of the house on holidays because my family hates me I am totally misunderstood and some silly notion that I could be possessed . I have flown to her various cities to see Dave Matthews a few times, but that was with a group of her friends. I might be excited about hanging out with her, but we'll see.... We are totally opposite people, so that means I can't smoke crack, I have to put my prostitution business on hold for a few days, and she might not understand the fact that I have sleep with Archibald, and occasionally wake up in the middle of the night and throw him outside for trying to steal my oxygen, but this is my routine and she will have to deal with that one. But besides all that, it might be a fun weekend.

One can only hope she changes her mind from green and I score a hot pink dress. Becuase you know that spells happiness to me.

Last night I returned home after a night o' fun, and when I walked in my radio was on and cranking out the country music. Thing is, the radio was not on when I left, I don't remember the last time I tuned it to radio and not CD player, and the only time I would put it on the country channel would be if I needed something to push me over the edge of suicide, or I was trying to wake Melanie up in the most annoying way possible. So needless to say this was a little odd. What else is odd, is that Lurker Boy was more freaked out by it than I was. While I was all looking in the bathroom for an intruder, he was standing outside saying, "um I have guns". After I found no one in my apartment, he came in and locked the door including the chain, (which I NEVER use). He then proceeded to look in the microwave to make sure there was no little man hiding in there. (Little does he know that little men ONLY hide in the refridgerator). It is good to know the guy you are seeing is all ready to protect you against violence. So I look at the presets on the radio and the country channel is not one of them. So somehow my stereo turned on, switched over to radio, and tuned itself, and waited for my arrival home. Some one explain to me how this happened. If I still lived in LaGrange, I would be able to explain it, because people often broke into my house for random stuff, like Ho Ho's and juice, but this apartment is not so easy to break into. Maybe my radio is feeling neglected and is acting out. I think I will spend some time with him today.


~ Forget the key to the room, when the exam is after 7pm and the maintenance men have left.
~ Find the only room left open in the entire building is a tiny closet that does not technically seat 25 people.
~ Administer the exam in said closet.
~ Hand out exam and then decide 20 minutes in the monster to make announcements.
~ Call the groups from the presentations out of the room to talk to them during the exam.
~ Call each student to the front of the room one by one to ask if her grade book is right with their grade

~ When a teacher asks about papers that were supposed to be about actual interviews you were supposed to have done, do not accidentally bring it to her attention that you accidentally did two for one age group. This REALLY makes it look like you did not, in fact, do the interviews and made the people in the paper up, which was totally the case for every paper I did.
~ When you know your busted for cheating on the papers, understand that "OH MY GOD, how did i do that? This shows what a bad semester it has been" will still get you a strange look for said professor.

~ when the hardest professor you have had tells you, you have an A for the semester, do not say "Whoa Dr. W, I have gotten an A in all of your classes, when you gonna challange me?"... this might make life harder later.


One more thing the internet has done for me:

Ruined my chances of possibly not graduating on time. FUCK YOU COMCAST! Being a procrastinator is fine when you can actually get things in at the last minute but without the internet it is not so easy.

It is kinda good I have no internet right now, because I have not had the highest spirits lately, and if you all remember February, that means I am not the slightest bit funny. Apparently I am SO UNFUNNY, that the professor I have a big crush on told me that he can't wait to write a letter of recommendation for me one day so he can write "She is perfect but scares me sometimes" in a formal letter. I think that is a compliment?.?

I will be up online by Friday, at which point I might have a great story as to how I can ruin ANYTHING. *mad you need to call and tell me I am dumb again, same issue*

Off to my last 2 exams, send me good thoughts, I kinda drank beer instead forgot to study.


Is it cheating if I don't make any noise?!? That was the big question but due to my crappy internet service, it never got posted.

Some other things that my internet has screwed up:

*I was all mad at concast after talking to them, so I pitched a fit in my leasing office today, because I was already I a bad mood and the new woman in there set me off with pulling out rule books on me. I fully expect to have an eviction notice on my door when I get home tonight.

*There is someone out there that thinks it is some big conspiracy against him, and that I am really just trying to ignore him. So he is all mad at me.

*I am not getting all my emails because my inbox keeps filling up with spam and HUGE attachments from my professor. For all I know I don't need to take my exams, but I didn't get the memo.

*I am completely convinced that there was a one day sale on midgets on ebay, but since I have no internet, I missed my one and only chance.

To sum it up comcast has made me homeless, friendless, informationless, and midgetless. I would call this a BAD day.


Me: Hang on mom, I have another call
Mom: *cue bitching that she is more important than other line*
------ click back to mom who is still bitching-------
Me: mom, stop bitching, i was not here to hear you
mom: oh ok who was that.
Me: Lurker boy
Mom: Oh who is that, is that someone you are dating.
Me: You know our relationship does not entail me talking to you about these matters.
Mom: oh well what ever happened to THE BOY.
Me: Funny you should ask, it would be even better if I talked to you about these things and you could find the humor too, but since I don't sorry, you're at a loss.
Mom: Well just remember the one that makes you want to vomit is not always the right one.

How is it that I have never told her anything about anyone and she chooses the perfect phrase to sum it up? My mother must be a witch.