And then there was one

And I'm left alone with my thoughts again. Another ridiculously fun weekend. Not as fun as last weekend, of course, but much laughter and my favorite, food, was had.

The wheels in my head keep turning and churning and conjuring up crazy stories and scenarios and other things that I feel I have no control over. I have this ability to not need sleep so I end up in bed, wide-eyed, with nothing but my crazy stories and scenarios and other things that I feel I have no control over to keep me company. What can I say, I was born with an obsessive mind and I play things over and over and over in my head. This is one film reel that needs to break down. You know you have it bad when some random Indian bodega owner approaches you and tells you, "Stop a-thinking. You a-thinking a-too much" and does the crazy hand signal. Thank you very much for your sightly observation.

EPIC FAIL was the theme for this weekend. Like I said before, dark bars are no bueno. Wanting to test out how much lighting is a factor in the [mis]conception of one's attractiveness, I went around taking random pictures of people that looked not bad in the dark. FAIL. Fail, fail, fail. Who let the dogs out?

I don't know how things are done in Europe but it is not appropriate to pick up a girl and bang her head on the ceiling, booty bump her and knock her over, and then ask her to dinner. FAIL.

If your opening lines are "You're beautiful", "Let me buy you a drink", "I love Asian women" or anything other than properly introducing yourself, FAIL.

If you, not so coyly, tell me that you're a model for Versace, FAIL. Especially if you're not even that attractive.

If you grab me from my friends and try to sex me up on the dance floor, MAJOR FAIL. And perhaps a little kick to the nuts.

On a different tangent, I just experienced one of the most awkward conversations with my mom in a while. It's no secret that I keep a lot of secrets from my mom because she is a worry wort and I would rather not have her losing sleep over trivial issues that I have. They're not so much secrets as personal details of my life that I'd like to keep, well, personal. I casually mentioned to her over a month ago that I went to the pharmacy and that I was still able to use my insurance. Today, she asked me what I went to the pharmacy for...last month. I told her it was nothing and chuckled nervously. "Well, obviously it's something or else you wouldn't be picking up medications from the pharmacy." Damn! She got me again! We spend the next five minutes going back and forth on the state of my health. She thinks that I'm sick and have acquired some sort of disease. I contemplate just telling her I came down with west nile virus or something stupid. I would like to avoid all conversations concerning sex with my parents. It's awkward enough when your mom yells at you for knowing what '69' is. How the hell does she know what that is? *Shudders* Oh, and to drive the point home, before we hang up, she says with worry in her voice, "I don't want you to hide things from me. I am worried that you are sick." I'm not sick, Mom. I would just rather not make you a grandmother right now. But then again, at the moment, I don't need pills for that. Ha!