One sentence can make you late for work. Two usually makes me at least 5 minutes past the time when I should have been punching in. Three, well three is bad. Very bad. Three means sneaking in the back door and pretending you've been there much longer then you have. Who? Oh me? No ... I've been here for hours ... Yes. Hours. All the while trying to hide the incredibly stupid grinning crossing your face that says Oh yeah. I'm lying.

Tori Amos's new double CD comes out in stores today. Being that there are only 2 shopping days left, someone in my aquaitance should have picked up my not so obvious hints by now that I expect this present wrapped up before me. Knowing my family as I do, I will not hold my breath. My Father told me yesterday that he was buying my present at BIG LOTS ... I about passed out! Trust me when I tell you, that there is absolutely nothing in that store that I would either (a) want for my birthday or (b) want anyone to even think that I might want something from there for my birthday. We'll have to see.

Shit. This has gone far beyond my three setence limit, and I have yet to wake KC up for school. I'm out people ... Have yourself a slamming two for Tuesday.