Don't be fooled by the locks that I got.

Yesterday I was told that I have and I quote: "Perfect News Anchor-Man Hair". I'm not exactly sure if that's a compliment or not considering that most of the anchor men on the Lake Charles local channel are wearing hairpieces. Oh..and I guess that's it.

Update on Comments:

Has any0ne else noticed tha I've been bitching constantly about never getting any damn comments on this site? Well it turns out, I have been. Blogger decided to like hold them hostage so that it could "moderate them" or something. So anyways, thanks for all the comments y'all. Sorry.

The Best and Worst

I guess this is an after New Years kind of post, but I know that if I put it off 'till then, it will never ever be written. For I am a selfish bitch when it comes to my own time. Sorry, really I am to subject all of you to this so early, but here it goes:

The Best and Worst of 2005

The Best Day of The Year: I know it's kind of hard to pinpoint one excellent day out of three hundred and sixty five mediocre ones, but I'm going to try anyways. I'd have to say that July Sixteenth was a particularly good one. If I remember correctly I spent my whole day making money, and then purchasing "Harry Potter: And The Half Blood Prince" at midnight. I'm sure there were better days, but this one just stands out, and I can actually pin a date on it.

Interesting/Horrible fact: Dumbledore totally dies in this book.

The Worst Day of The Year: For me this year, the worst day deffinitely has to be June the fourteenth. Only about two weeks after my birthday. This was the day that my Grandmother died, and I'm still having a hard time coping. I know that's so melodramatic to say, and at least it wasn't like my Mom or Dad or something but still. I really am incapable of coming to terms with leaving people behind, or saying goodbye. It really is not my strong suit, at all.

Interesting/Sad fact: The Song "My Way" by Frank Sinatra was played at the funeral. And to this day, all you have to do is play this song and suddenlyI'm a raging ball of emotions.

The Most Mediocre Day of The Year: Absolutely has to be this one. It started with absolutely no breakfast, two finals, and finally throwing up spectacularly in my car. It was totally horrible, I even had vomit in my hair. Oh, God...I think I'm getting sick again just thinking about it.

Interesting/Funny fact: I called in sick to work today, and might have a wild night of debauchery anyways.

The Best Moment of The Year: The creation of the Syrup. Enough said.

Interesting/Stupid fact: It happened at IHop.

The Worst Moment of The Year: A few hours ago, when I realized there was vomit in my hair. Ew.

Interesting/Disgusting fact: It was so gross. And my car smells like cheetos now. Not that I would know, I've just been told.

The Best Book I Have Read This Year: It's a three way tie between: "Harry Potter: And The Half Blood Prince" by: Judith Katherine Rowling; (See: Above), "Anne Frank: The Diary of a Young Girl" by: Anne Frank, and "Star" by: Pamela Anderson. It's really a toss-up folks.

Interesting/Sickening Facts: I have so far reread "Harry Potter: And The Half Blood Prince" approximately twelve times. Also, a good friend told me that I was "sex-obsessed" because I bought "Star". More on that in a later post though.

The Worst Book I Have Read This Year: I'm not exactly sure of the title, or the author; but none of that is really that important anyhow. All that I remember about it is that I read it while on my evacuation "vacation", and it was about a woman journalist whose mom almost died. She then lied to the father she had never known, pretends that she's writing a book about him; and then somehow inexplicably has sex with her own half brother. Disgusting, Disgusting (Try to catch the in-joke there).

Interesting/Horrible Fact: The period of time in which I read this book was the fucking worst time of my life. That is all all on that though.

The Absolute Best Album Released This Year: I would say "Britney Spears Greatest Hits: My Prerogative" but that is not techincally true since it was released last Novemeber. I'd probably have to say "Mariah Carey: The Emancipation of MiMi" or "The Black Eyed Peas: Monkey Business".

Interesting/Illegal fact: I didn't even buy "The Black Eyed Peas: Monkey Business", I downloaded it.

The Absolute Worst Album Released This Year: This total heineous cd I saw by someone named "Lorenzo Owens", because every time I see it I'm reminded of that horrible movie "Lorenzo's Oil" I was forced to watch in tenth grade Biology, and how the main actor repeatedly through himself down stairs to show emotion.

Interesting/Stupid fact: That Lorenzo Owens cd? Yeah I deffinitely hid it behind a Britney one so no one could buy it. Not that anyone would want to, but still.

..There may be more, I haven't decided.

Him: And I saw that bitch ******* (name edited to protect the Irish), and she was all "Hey Son! Aren't you glad to see me?"
Him: And I was all like yes *******, you're like the sperm in my penis. And that is why I masturbate every day to get rid of you.

Just A Short Memo:

To the guy in the blue car who honked his horn twice and then proceeded to flick me off today in the Starbucks parking lot: Don't think for a moment that I didn't memorize your lisence plate number and am currently trying to get your charged for child molestation.

Feliz Navidad To You Too, Bucko.

Did I mention to you that I'm a server? Well, a waiter. Not that I wait on people that much, most of the people I know are quite punctual, except for Son Tran, but that is another story all together. Anyways the other day I was serving right? And I got this table, and of course because God thinks that my life should be as much like a bad sitcom has humanly possible I got the only table that doesn't speak a word of English. Now I'm not saying that I have anything against all non English speaking people or anything, because I totally don't. Anyways long story short I ended up having to play a great long game of mime with him to figure out what it was that he actually wanted, I also played a small game of pictionary where I pointed at a drawing of a burger, and inquired the toppings that he wanted on his sandwich. The entire time this exchange was going on, in my head I could hear myself saying "Jordan, you better be nice to him because somewhere in his jacket he's totally hiding a camera to show the complete and utter injustices that non-English speaking people are faced with daily, and you will be in the center of a national debate on Entertainment Tonight if you are rude to him."

So, I was nice as possible. I really am quite a nice person actually when I want to be. You should get to know me, I'm quite amazing really. Anyways, he finally was able to kind of sort of order, and I later gave him his food. Not too long after he finished eating his chicken sandwich and his double chocolate shake I brought him the bill, hoping beyond hope that he at least new American currency. Which he thankfully did. He gave me exact change, and here is the meat of my story. The bastard didn't tip! Did I not just spend fifteen minutes expressedly trying to understand you? I mean come on, it's not like you're the easiest table I've ever had or anything. I mean, come on you're in America now. And in America it's fifteen percent or get the fuck out of the restaurant.

Or at least that's how it is in my America.

Just Call Him ED

Him: " So, she has to do that whole Scarlet Letter project for English, right? The one where you have to think of a sin that you committed, and then wear the letter all around the school for a week?"
Me: "Yeah?"
Him: "Well, she was asking me what she should do..."
Me: "Well, what did you tell her?"
Him: "I told her she should use Erectile Dysfunction."
Me: "Uhh..."
Him: "But then she said that Fierro said it couldn't be anything sexual"
Me: "Well Erectile Dysfunction is about as far from being sexual as it could possibly be."

Sunday Morning

It's Sunday. I love Sunday's, and for completely unreligious reasons. I mean don't get me wrong I like church as much as the not loving catholic church kind of guy, it's just Sunday has so much more to offer. For instance the very best thing to do on a boring Sunday afternoon, is look back on the week that is coming to a close. This week I did a lot of really awesome things that could either get me A) incarcerated, B) in trouble with my parents, or C) a Nobel peace prize. For example I went to no less than two porn stores this week, with best Asian friend. I'm not so much on porn, the accessories are what I go for to look at. Did you know there's a forty pound purple vibrator called "The Great American Challenge?", let me drive that home for you forty pounds is like the size of my dog "Buddy". That's like sticking an entire fully grown sheltie into your vagina. All beastiality references aside, I'd just like to say that the world is a much better place for things such as this "Challenge" existing. Trust me on this one. I did other outlandish things as well, that I won't bother to write because no one comments on this damn thing anyway.

You never know

One day when you decide that finally after all of your scattered thoughts, and sighs; you'll finally know exactly how you feel about something or someone. One day everything as you know it will change and there you'll be sighing and thinking, and wondering what to do all over again. One day you won't be able to make up your mind.

Trust me on this one.

I've decided that if you really want your life to be complete, you must see the major motion picture: Rent.

Maybe you should rethink that:

The next time you go on a speil about "making nice", and being "offended because I can't be around you", maybe you should think first. How can you be offended, when the first time you get the chance there you are talking about me again? The next time you talk to my sister, and wish her happy birthday remember that you have no right to say nice things to her, when you're only saying bad things about me. Remember that at the end of the day, your words don't mean a thing. But, what do I know? I'm just immature. Let me start by telling you that peice of information I passed on to one of our friends, wasn't exaggerated by me, it was exaggerated by the source. If I had known that, I probably wouldn't have even said anything. I just told him because I thought you were on another one of your malicious tirades to hurt someone else. And if you think for a second that posting things of me singing is going to "ruin my life" then think again. I couldn't care any less. If you feel like that's what you need to do, do it. It's been almost a year,maybe you should grow up and move on. Seriously, I don't care if you have a new boyfriend you're clearly still hung up. Seriously, I have said this so many times, but I just want to live my life without you in it. If that means me being "immature" by not wanting to be around you, then you should respect that. If I have no desire to be around you, it's only because of the things you do. Your immaturity only proves me right. So keep on, keep it up. Two can play this game, but I can promise you I won't.

Okay, Fess Up.

Thanks again to Sitemeter, I now know that someone from Washington, Louisiana has been reading my site almost DAILY. Let me drive this point home to you, I didn't even know there was a Washington, Louisiana until I read this. So, since you're so into reading this site, I definitely think you should just fess up and leave a comment so I can know who you are, and maybe you can tell me where the hell Washington, Louisiana is.

I'm just curious.

When I came home tonight as I walked through the kitchen to make my way into the office, I stumbled upon something large in the darkness. I flicked on the lights quickly to make sure it wasn't a dead body or anything equally terrifying, only to reveal a treadmill. Now the question arises, why is there a treadmill by our refrigerator? Is this some kind of new family diet regimen that I am not privy to or something?

Have A Joyous Day Of Birth

Today my younger sister is turning seventeen, and this makes me happy to no end. Because for every year she turns older the more we get along. The two of us have steadily becoming friends with the passing months as we both grow up little by little. If you had asked me five, or even two years ago if I ever thought me and my sister would get along I would have replied to the negative. Though now, I can't imagine not being close to her. I really like finding out new things about her, and seeing how she turns out. I can't wait to see how her friendships work out, and when she falls in love, and experiences all life has to offer her. I wish the world for her, I really do.

So that being said, Happy Birthday MFG.

Post Rita: I'm still living in the dark ages.

Remember that whole hurricane Rita thing? You know the one, gigantic storm that completely ruined my life for an entire calendar month? Yeah, that's the one I'm talking about. Well, since that time and now everything has become basically normal again, except for one minor detail. I have been living approximately two months without any ice in my house. May I remind you that, I have had the internet back for these same two months? As well as cable, running water, and bowel functions. Not that I wasn't having those or anything, I just really felt like saying it. Anyhow, I have been drinking luke warm beverages for the past sixty days. Not because people who go through hurricanes, can no longer make ice or anything because of the odd weather conditions and the air pressures or anything. It's just because our ice machine has yet to start working since then. And what does my family do? Do we call a refrigerator repairman? No, of course not. Do we try to fix it ourselves? Of course not. We just wait it out. So until then I will be drinking room temperature drinks for the rest of my days.

Reasons

I received the best compliment of my life yesterday. Of course a good compliment for me would be something like "Hey Jordan, you don't look like complete shit today!" Though, this compliment completely blew that one away. I'll just have you know that according to this person, I have (and I quote) "The voice of an angel." Let me put that all in caps for you to drive the point home: "ACCORDING TO A FRIEND OF MINE, I HAVE THE VOICE OF ANGEL."


And, really if that doesn't make life worth living, then what exactly prey tell, does?

In tune

I knew that I'm finally in tune with the romantic in me when I woke up with just one thought this morning: "I'm ready to fall back into love."

In other news:

Over two hundred readers and still practically no comments. Come on people, show the love.

I promised

When I started Post-A-Rita, I promised myself not to show too much actual emotion on it. I promised myself that I wouldn't turn into the whinny bitch that I actually am, and just write about funny and ironies. I can't hold myself back anymore, I don't care if I embarrass myself or show too much. I really just can't care anymore.


So that said, I'd like to say that I can see you in public without that sinking sensation in my stomach anymore. I don't feel like the world has just been ripped out from under my feet. I don't feel like I can't speak, or breathe anymore. You no longer have that affect on me. I really, truly, am alright now. In every sense of the word. I'm growing as a student, as a writer, and hopefully as a human being. Yet, it's almost been an entire calendar year and it all still feels like yesterday. And I can't have a conversation with anyone without your name coming up, and usually not even by myself. And I hate that. I don't feel like being connected to your existence anymore. I wish people would just forget that it ever happened, and pretend that you and me were never anything so they don't feel the need to bring it up every five minutes. And though I still hear new things about myself that were said by you from other people at least once a week, I don't do that anymore. I don't talk about you, because I don't care. And the other day when I saw you at the place you work, I thought about coming up to you and saying "Hello, how are you?" But I couldn't bring myself to do it, thinking that you might just sneer at me and laugh. I don't have time for immaturity, or snide remarks anymore. And though I'm sorry for calling you "sir" that one time, I know that you wouldn't think twice of doing something similar. In fact, I know you didn't because all of your former friends have mouths, and all of their mouths report straight to me.


But anyways, don't read that if you don't want to. I'm not even sure why I wrote it, I just needed to get it out. I promise you won't see me whine anymore. Really, I swear.

A different take

I realized something today. If you really hate someone, if you really can't stand them. If everything about them just pisses you off and makes you want to lock them in a room and force them to listen to "With You" by Jessica Simpson for the rest of eternity, there's really only one solution. Sit them down, and tell them to talk. And as you listen to their entire life story, even if it bores you half to death, and makes you wish for a sudden hurricane to come sweep them into a swirling vertex of death; you'll like them a little more or at the very least hate them a little less by the end. And if that isn't life changing, then I don't really know what it is.

Thanks to Site Meter:

Again thanks to sitemeter, I now know that two days ago my site was very popular in Canada. To any Canadians that are reading this, I hope you enjoy my site, now can you please take back Celine Dion and Shania Twain? Please?

I was thinking and:

Well, like I said I was thinking about it and I think that stop signs are really just a suggestion. Kind of like "Well I mean you really should at least pause, but if it's dark outside and no one's around no one's going to judge you."

Quoted:

Him: "I think the world should just have a big orgy."
Me: "Oh is that so?"
Him: "Yeah and I could join in, because I'm part of this world."

Just in case you were curious:

"I Love New York" by Madge is the song of the moment and will continue to be so for the next decade or five.

I am outraged:

I am ninteen years of age, which means I should be having sex filled nights of debauchery. Doesn't it? I'm pretty sure that it does. Well you want to know what my wild Friday night consisted of? I went to a bar for the first time, and instead of getting liqoured up and going home with a complete stranger, I sat at a table in the very, very, very back with an Asian. The "craziest" thing we did was request "I'm A Slave 4 U" on the jukebox, in a room filled with drunk men. So instead of getting slammered (Said Asian's word, not mine) we left and proceeded to go get chicken tenders. Wow. I'm wild.

Oh My God.

I just received the one piece of news today that is going to send me into a downward spiral of depression and overeating. Do you realize that two people that I graduated with are getting married? Like actually married, with rings, and dresses, and alcohol. And get this: She's not even knocked up. Although I wouldn't really be surprised if she had been, this girl from my recollection was a big old whore. Let me remind all of you, that I only graduated two years ago, let me spell that out for you: WE ARE IN THE PRIME OF OUR LIVES, WE DO NOT HAVE TO GET MARRIED TO VALIDATE OURSELVES. Seriously, I mean really come on you're kind of just asking for a divorce, aren't you? Seriously. But the most harrowing part of all of this is that, these two people that are the same age as me are getting married, and I haven't dated anyone in almost a year, there's so not a God. Seriously, that's all I have to say about that.

I'm sorry but...

The weather is finally turning cold outside, so be that as it may I'm going to attempt to bring to your attention a growing epidemic that is sweeping the nation: Nipples. Sure you'll say, "But Jordan everyone has a pair, what's the big deal?" I'll tell you what's the big deal. The weather is cold, and believe it or not your nipples know it. Try to hide it from them as you may, but seriously they're not that stupid. They realize that the weather is reaching freezing points, and they know how to salute. So please do me a favor slutty girl in Nebraska, and you overweight Magic card playing nerd: cover them up. A bra, a jacket, your arms. Anything will do really, as long as they don't have to be assaulting my eyes, I'm cool with it. Seriously. Ask your brother, your mom, your drug dealer; they'll all tell you the same thing. Put those nipples away.

You know what I hate?

When someone is all " Oh my god, I love New York! I went once and it was like so totally cool!". Okay, I get it; you can travel. Seriously, people do it every day. In fact some people actually live in New York, and to believe it or not you are not the only person in the world to be privy to it's supposed "awesomeness". So let's both just face the facts that chances are not only will you more than likely never get to go back to your beloved New York, but you'll also probably die alone.

I showed you mine, now show me yours

If you're reading this, which of course you must be if you can see these words; I want you to do me a favor. Look below and search for that little button that says "comment", now once you open all that up, I want you to type the title and artist of the one song that makes you want to rip off all your clothes, quit your job, drop out of school, and become a stripper for a living. And be honest with me, I want to know...no, I need to know.


Just for the record mine is: "I'm A Slave 4 u" by Britney Spears.

Did you know that:

People in California have been reading my site? And also someone from Sulphur, and someone who goes to Louisiana State University as well. Well if you'll all just do me a favor, and not tell any of my actual friends or my parents about this that would be just great. Thanks.

Also mad props to Site Meter.

Also person who found this site while searching for "tampax", I think we need to get together for some discussion.

From now on, I'm no longer giving out my email address.

I was originally going to write something about karma, and how it loves to screw me over in the most new inventive ways. But instead I'm going to write about chain letters. I fucking hate them. That's all. So if you ever have the urge to send me an email about any of the following things including but not limited to: dead babies, serial killers, urban legends, send it to ten million people if you love Jesus, or my personal favorite subgenre the " if you don't send this back you'll either die, become sterile, or shit bricks for the rest of your life" chain letter; do me a favor and don't.


Seriously.

The Stages

Happiness is:

A full tank of gas, and an open road.

Fustration is:

A full tank of gas, and nothing but traffic.

Sadness is:

A full tank of gas, but no license to drive, car, or friends to share the moment with.

A haiku of desperation:

Brown hair and blue eyes
Can sing, write, and speak English
Still available

We don't want any:

I've been up for a full day and a half, and the only comments I've recieved are advertisments.

That's no fun.

Just trying out this whole blogging through email thing

So, are we on the air?

I'm sure you could cover up that extra head with a hat or something

Last night as my father was flipping through the six hundred channels on the television in the living room he came upon something that both amused and disgusted me at the same time. In case you didn't happen to catch it on the Discovery Channel there was a lovely broadcast entitled: "Born with two heads". The true story of a possibly German girl (the language was quite ambiguous) being born with two heads. Not quite Siamese territory, but not quite human either. Like seriously it was this perfectly normal baby girl, with an extra head growing from her cranium, no other body or anything, just a head and some odd flesh colored leftovers. And get this, they survived!

Well at least they lived until I stopped watching at the commercial break, whether or not they survived after the advertisement for Tampax Pearl or not is beyond my knowledge. Though, that's all really besides the point. This got me thinking, if I had to be born with someone else's head attached to my own, who's would it be? Not that you usually get a choice in this kind of matters, but I'm going to pretend for a moment that I have some kind of cosmic connection that can help me out here.

I'm thinking the best kind of head to be attached to would be an annorexic one. Don't get me wrong, I'm totally not trying to glorify eating disorders here, but if you had an extra head attached to yours, I'm sure you wouldn't want it to be eating twinkies until your weight balloons to the upper hundred range. Oh! Even better, if you could somehow have an animal head instead of another humans. I'm thinking baby elephant head. I mean really, who couldn't get behind something like that? I certainly could. Don't lie, you could too.

Postarita: Defined

3 Entries found for Postarita

Postarita (N) Poe-stah-ree-tah

1. A blog to discuss the funny and thoughts of a ninteen year old boy.
2. Post as in post hurricane Rita that completely uprooted said boy for nearly two months, and nearly destroyed his home town.
3. Postarita as in if you switch it out for "Senorita" in the Justin Timberlake song of the same name, you have a catchy pop diddy.


I'm not going to lie to you, this is not my first blog. Chances are this won't even be my last blog. Though, I'm hoping beyond all hope that this is the blog that actually sticks. So, if you can excuse my incorrect use of commas, and attempts to be witty, I promise that I'll be entertaining at least forty percent of the time. Or at least I'll try. So stick with me baby, you know I love ya.