That's what you get for waking up at 7 a.m. for a THRIFT SALE.

Last night, I walked past my neighbor's house and was pretty much disgusted. Their entire front yard looked like a shit storm had just gone through and deposited on rickety picnic tables every useless piece of crap that not even Goodwill would take for donations. I was thinking to myself, "Either these people are having a thrift sale in the morning or the re-sale value on homes in the neighborhood just dropped 10%."

Sure enough. At 6:45 a.m., people started lining up, waiting for the tarps to be taken off the tables of junk that had sat untouched all night long. Yeah. That's how bad this stuff was. No one even tried stealing it.

Anyway, I couldn't help but laugh my ass off as I watched this all going down. NO ONE bought anything and they all drove away, pissed off that the thrift sale was selling a bunch of crap. Yeah. What a concept. I can't get over it. A thrift sale selling useless crap? WHAT IS THIS WORLD COMING TO. Where the hell is the painting with the hidden copy of the Constitution behind the frame??? I HEAR ABOUT THIS HAPPENING ALL THE TIME ON "ANTIQUES ROADSHOW."

In other news, the tickets for the Tesla concert came in the mail yesterday. 8th row, bay-beh. That's right. Where the high rollers sit. Nothing but the best for my dad.

I'm tired of keeping track of everyone's birthdays and shit.

I suppose this makes me sound like a bad person, but that's never stopped me before.

Confession: I have two nieces and can I remember their birthdays off the top of my head? No. I can't. Why? Because my head is too busy remembering birthdays for grandmas and grandpas, parents, and friends, as well as the anniversaries for some of these same people and whatever other significant events these people have warranting a damn card.

Yeah. Most of this shit is written down somewhere but then I have to remember to look for it.

I'm proposing this new policy:

I will send everyone a card on January 1 for everything they will be celebrating that year. They can open the damn card (clearly marked for the appropriate event) on that given day.

I pretty much think this is a great idea.

Why do I like Michelle Branch so much?

That's what I'd like to fucking know.

In related news, my top-ten songs of all time include hits like "Is She Really Going Out With Him?", "Hot Child in the City", "Your Wildest Dreams", and "You Ain't Seen Nothin' Yet." I have a feeling this says a lot about me. And it isn't good.

In unrelated news, I went to the dentist this morning. Not only do I have a "slight" problem with receding gums in my upper molar region, but I have a very "small cavity" that needs to be "taken care of" right away. Dudes. I've never had a cavity. EVER. Now suddenly, after a few years of having lived with Brad, I'm getting receding gums and cavities.

Yeah. I'm blaming this on him, along with tons of other shit. He only flossed when there was something stuck in his teeth and has more cavities than he does teeth.

I was actually prescribed (with a real prescription which is totally worthless) a Sonicare toothbrush.

There must be some kickback shit happening there. They even had a "demo" one for me to touch, as though I've never seen one of these "new magical toothbrushes" before. Jesus.

Let me tell you a little bit about how my night went down.

I got home last night and needed to make something to eat, shower/get ready for a concert, walk the dog, and wait for the damn Schwan's man to bring me some frozen salmon and waffles before I could rush off to the concert. Pretty much, I had one million fucking things to do at the same time and only got to relax once I went to bed.

Ah yes. I'm living the American Dream. No wonder why people in undeveloped parts of the world want us to leave them the fuck alone.

I'm to the part in my night where I'm walking the dog when suddenly, out of nowhere, this huge black lab (nice dogs, my ASS) jumps on top of Bailey and starts barking. Well dudes. My instincts kicked in. I fucking kicked that dog, grabbed Bailey, and instantly marched over to the house where this obnoxious dog lives. The kids (pre-teens in my estimations) were outside, and I'm pretty sure I made them cry. I wagged my finger at them and told them this was the last damn time I would be seeing their damn dog off its leash in this neighborhood. I told them if I saw it again, I'd be calling the police, and that would be the last time they'd be seeing their dog.

Of course, I'm doing this all with a little terrier under my arm and a bag of dog crap in my other hand, so I'm not sure how official I look.

Then, as I turn away, I see the Schwan's man getting ready to leave my house. Fucking A. I am not waiting two more weeks for this dude. So I tear off running for him, shouting to stop.

I reach him, and apparently I'm supposed to "take a tour of the catalog" with him before he'll give me my damn food. Well, this is just not ideal, as I've still got a shaking dog under my arm and the bag of dog shit in my hand. I ask him if I can have a minute? Which of course he's going to give me, since he works off commission.

I take a damn tour of the catalog, which largely involves him trying to get me to buy two marinated steaks for $10, along with some baked potato things that made my ass bigger just looking at them. NO THANKS.

Right before he leaves, he says, "That's some great art on your arms. That purple is really hard to come by."

Well I can safely say I had never heard this before but whatever. I knew what was coming. And sure enough, he says, "You wanna see my work? I'll have to take off my shirt a bit."

First the UPS guy. Now the Schwan's guy. Are you fucking kidding me?

And NO. I don't have time to see this man's damn tattoos. I'm running late as it is, but SURE. Let's see it.

He tells me as he's unbuttoning his shirt that there's a story behind this one. Oh goody. Someone's got cable and watches "Miami Ink." BAER.

Then he proceeds to say that he drew this up while he was in the service. The tattoo shop offered to do it for free if they could keep his design. Then he says to me, "Yeah. You'll recognize the design, I'm sure. And I'm not making a dime off it."

Dudes. It's the fucking bulldog mascot that you see everywhere. You know the one I'm talking about? Anyway. There's no way in HELL I'm believing that this guy is the mastermind behind this shit.

So I just say, "Wow. Well you're like the creator of 'Spiderman' then. That sucks?"

This seemed to satisfy him and he left.

I hopped into the car, left for the concert late, and realized as I was driving that I smelled something really bad. I look down and sure enough. I had dog shit all over me.

I can't think of a more appropriate end to this story.

Well, I guess my heart is two sizes too small.

I watched "Seven Pounds" on Saturday night and could hardly stand it. After the movie ended, the only thing I felt was relief.

I spent 3/4 of the movie confused and the other 1/4 annoyed by the fact that Will Smith spent the entire movie on the verge of tears. There were times when I knew I was supposed to be sad, but since I couldn't figure out why, I was left just sitting there uncomfortably, wondering what in the hell was on TV.

Once I FINALLY figured out what this movie was about (no less than 25 minutes BEFORE IT WAS OVER), I realized I didn't like it. It made me uncomfortable. I personally found Will Smith's reaction to his "situation" a little bit unnecessary.

I can pretty safely say that I can relate to the whole "I caused an accident" thing and if the person in my life that can personally relate best to Will Smith would've behaved this way, I would've had him committed. Seriously.

Most of you are going to read this and think I'm a bad person and that's fine. Honestly, you probably thought I was a bad person BEFORE reading this anyway, so what does it really matter?

Plus, guess what? I got teary last night while listening to Joan Rivers talk about her charity during the finale of "Celebrity Apprentice", so there. I DO have a heart. It's just irrational. Like everyone else's in the damn world.

I only like watching most television shows in syndication.

What the fuck is up with that?

I don't even know if "Two and a Half Men" is still on in primetime, however, I know it's on Fox nightly starting at 6:30. The same thing with "Scrubs", which I did try watching now that it switched networks and discovered it sucks. But regardless, even before it switched networks, I only watched it (mostly because my husband forces me to) on Comedy Central.

And is it just me or does Zach Braff seem incredibly unlikeable in real life?

Oh yeah. I just called Batteries Plus and they still haven't gotten to my watches yet. I know I said I brought in one million but that was a slight exaggeration. It was only 8.

I have a hard time believing it's taking them three days to find the time to replace the batteries in 8 watches. I know this isn't a big deal but the more I think about it, the more pissed off I get.

I've really gotta lay off the sugar-free gum. It's giving me intestinal distress. Again. I NEVER LEARN.

This is my big dilemma for the morning.

My dad and I go to the Central Wisconsin State Fair EVERY YEAR (with the exception of one and that's a long story). It's in Marshfield, which isn't exactly 10 miles from home or anything. But we do this because they tend to have one kick-ass (I understand this up for debate) classic rock band show every year. And since my dad is a lifetime member of the Steppenwolf Fan Club, we're obviously fans of the genre.

Anyway, this year Tesla is playing on Friday night. Yeah. That's fucking awesome. But on the other nights. there's some country music artists I'd like to see. I don't want to admit this publicly but whatever.

There's no way in hell I'm driving this distance several nights in a row to see bands at the fair, so I need to pick ONE band. If I tell my dad I want to see Craig Morgan, he's going to say, "Who in the HELL is that?" And then he's going to disown me, once I tell him.

So, I guess this isn't a dilemma at all. I'll go see Tesla with my dad and just buy Craig Morgan's CD. That seems like a fair compromise. I AM going to Country Jam anyway. I don't have much to bitch about.

Why in the hell is it so hard to find a used recumbent bike?

When I didn't want one, I saw them on Craigslist all the damn time.

Now that I want one, the only ones posted are like $225, which is the Craigslist equivalent of selling clothes at a thrift sale for $25. Give me a fucking break. I don't care if the tags are on that shit. IT'S A THRIFT SALE.

Anyway, the other day, I did call on one listed in the paper. The guy who answered lives on Birch Street, which is pretty much one of the shittiest streets in Eau Claire. On top of that, I could hardly understand him (either drunk or forgein) and the first question he asks me is if I know what a recumbent bike is. Uhhhhh. On top of that, he apparently had "several", with his "top brand" being Stamina. Which I think is sold at Kmart.

So, that's a no go.

I guess I'll keep breaking into the gym until someone either sells me a used good one for $125 or less or takes pity on me and buys me a new one, ships it to me at an address available upon request, and makes me the happiest girl in Eau Claire for at least five minutes. Until I have to put the damn thing together.

And another thing...

The damn toilet at work has been running for three days straight. Pretty much it never stops. I told the "appropriate people" about this and they just said, "Yeah. We know."

Oh, okay. So you know you're wasting thousands of gallons of water then. Great.

This must be our effort to "go green" that was mentioned in the last employee newsletter.

How busy can you possibly be?

So, last night I stopped by Batteries Plus after work with about one million watches in need of new batteries. I'm pretty sure the only reason why the guy working there didn't fucking kill me was because I was wearing a cute dress and he liked my legs.

Anyway, the last time I showed up with one million watches needing batteries, the guy at the counter just changed them all right away as he continued watching Rachael Ray's talk show.

This was not the case last night, and I was told I'd get called today when they were finished.

It was pretty much getting to be near the end of the work day, I didn't get a call and I'm not driving to Batteries Plus unless I know for sure I have a reason.

I called (YES I KNOW THEY TOLD ME THEY'D CALL ME) and the guy who answered was clearly in distress. He tells me, "Jodie (I hate it when people who don't know me in situations like this use my name...like this is supposed to soften the blow of it all)...we're just SWAMPED. I haven't even THOUGHT about changing those batteries yet. Can you wait until tomorrow?"

HOW BUSY CAN THEY REALLY BE AT BATTERIES PLUS? Have you ever driven past this place? C'mon.

Well dudes. Most of these watches are actually Brad's, and if he's been without them for 2 years, I'm thinking another day is fine. I told the guy that and he didn't laugh. So now I'm assuming they're going to fuck with our watches and scratch the backs up out of spite.

In other news, I have a new blog that I'll be writing on, and uploading to Facebook. Maybe. If I can figure it out. If not, you'll just be inconvenienced by having to come here directly.