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Confession:

I always thought the song went: "The Devil's about to rock! We. Sa-lute. You!"

My husband thinks my version is better, so at least there's that.

I honestly only need a house in order to store the stuff I might someday use for something other than sleeping and watching tv.

For the celebration of my birth, I was awarded with a brand new tiny adorable iPod Nano. In accordance with Finagle's Law, or perhaps Sturgeon's Law, the iPod's headphone jack was broken. But I didn't find this out until I'd spent six hours ripping CDs to the goddamn thing.

In conclusion, Apple stores are stocked full of jerks and abundant with fuckwittage.

Generate your name with Monster Stickers.

Perhaps I'm older than my parents are letting on, because I totally remember these.