W1: My cable wouldn't work this morning, so don't ask me about the weather

There is a particular radio show I listen to for a few minutes every morning on my way to Starbucks. It never fails to get my brain firing and my anger juices flowing. Sure, this isn't the healthiest way to wake up, but it works and I use my Mayer-therapy to calm me down afterwards. Anyway, this morning there was a female guest who was asked by some (self-loathing douche bag) caller to tell him to "shut his face" in the meanest tone she could muster. She announced the phrase at a pitch almost inaudible to humans, then followed it with an airy giggle and an apology, "I am so bad at being mean!" Anytime a girl says she "is so bad at being mean," I want to smash her face into the nearest countertop. Not just because I am really good at being mean, but because she is full of shit. I guarangoddamntee you that if anyone called that girl fat/slutty/fake, she would become really good at being mean. What she meant to say is that she is not good at being mean to boys. This is because she is afraid that being mean might tarnish their image of her as a flaxen-haired trick pony, ready to be ridden at a moment's notice with nothing but words of praise and juicy kisses waiting anxiously in her mouth. If she had the slightest glimmer of mean in her eyes, the men might be afraid to approach her and sing lengthy odes about her overwhelming sweetness while they felt up her ass. What is a woman if she isn't sweet, a sugary fucking pile of tits and ass ready for the taking? She is a scary bitch who might just throw herself off the Pedestal of Nudity, put on some jeans and a bra, and tell a man to fuck off unless he had something worthwhile to contribute to her life, and I am not talking about a fat wallet or back massages.

B1: Falling in the shower makes my back hurt

moar funny pictures

It's a slow day around here, and I won't apologize. It's a holiday week, after all.

B3: Holiday traffic makes working through holiday weeks less painful

I worry about my safety when I get older. In my 24 years of living, I have fallen three times in the shower. So far, I have not suffered any serious injuries, and I credit that to my sturdy build. I better dose up on calcium and red meat, otherwise my golden years are going to be spent in assorted bandages.
The first fall involved massive amounts of vodka and, much to my mother's dismay, I took out the shower curtain with me. The second time involved a particular transluscent lizard that was haunting my house. I was quite sure that he had decided to join me in the shower and in that fleeting moment of insanity, tried to spin my way away from him and out of the tub. That situation ended with me folded over the side of the tub, my breath knocked completely out of me, and the lizard nowhere in sight. This morning, I experienced my third fall. Here's a little tip: when your mother tells you that Draino leaves your tub really slick, take her word for it and clean it up before you use the tub again. Otherwise, you might find yourself in the same situation I did: flailing mid-air for the countertop wondering how on earth you became air born so early on a Monday morning.

B3: Endorphins and Genitalia

A list of some things I love and hate.
Love: When my best friend's cousin calls me drunk and leaves sloppy voicemails.
Hate: Geographical barriers that prevent me from drinking with said cousin on a regular basis.
Love: Starbucks latte with no foam.
Hate: Waiting in the awkward and anxious early morning crowd for my latte to be prepared.
Really Hate: Waiting in aforementioned crowd without John Mayer there to hold my hand and wait with me.
Love: The bouncy puppy that lives in the yard with the free roaming horse just down the street from the library.
Hate: That puppies aren't allowed in libraries.
Love: Peeling my burn scab because it itches.
Hate: It hurts worse than it itches after I pull the scab off.
Love: Flirting with boys.
Hate: When boys I flirt with end up being 5 years younger than me and act as though being 24 means I am mere months away from assisted living and Bingo nights.
Love: That my favorite West Texans are coming to visit Friday.
Hate: That my favorite West Texans are leaving on Sunday. Shouldn't I be able to keep them with me forever and ever and never let them go?
Love: Americans are easily lured with free food.
Hate: Puritanical values that infect American society and make things a lot less fun.
Love: The way grandma calls attractive men "gorgeous."
Hate: It's only 8:30 and I have a good 12 hours of stuff I don't want to do ahead of me.