The Comfy Corner

1) You are trying to be so quiet going down the stairs at night, and then you miss a step and do a T-Rex stomp shaking the entire house.

2) You begrudgingly go out even though you are stupid tired. You tell yourself you won't drink and you'll head home around midnight. You wake up the next morning in a stranger's bed with no pants, a massive hangover, and no memory of the previous night.

3) You tell yourself you need to stop eating sweets and sugars, then your boyfriend bakes a giant cupcake.

4) You leave an hour early to guarantee that you'll be there on time, then there is a "police investigation" on the train and you're an hour late.

5) You tell yourself you're an independent woman of the modern age, then you're married with children.

6) You don't ask for directions because you have an iPhone, then you remember that your iPhone changed to Apple maps and you're doomed.

7) You tell your friend how horrible you are at baking and then you accidentally make the most delicious scones.

8) When you are working at your job you repeat in your head "this sucks, I hate this, I have to quit" but when you go home you think "meh, it's not THAT bad."

9) You can't find your monthly metro card you just bought so you buy a new one, call MTA, cancel the old one, get the money refunded, and then you find the old one in your bag.

10) You set your alarm every morning to go to the gym, and then the months go by and you forget where your gym is even located.

2:30AM on a Tuesday night, I am awoken by the raucous chatter of young hooligans beatin' their gums loudly in my kitchen as if it were a regular speakeasy. Blearily, I stumble out of my bedroom door to tell the young rag-a-muffins to pipe down and I remind them of the time of day. The next evening I settle into my bed with a blanket and a cup of tea and watch "The Truman Show" with a candle burning and a chocolate brownie cheesecake in my hand. The morning after that, I go to get my mail (a linen pocket square that I've been waiting for anxiously). On my way back from the mail, however, I ran into some buddies of mine and shot the shit for an hour and a half on Main street, complaining about the pace of New York City and how you can avoid getting mugged by simply screaming the word, "WHAT?!" at your pursuer, and the practicality of those new-fangled toe shoes and how they might cure an aching back. This conversation was quite taxing so I settled in for an afternoon nap post retrieving my mail. Now I find myself sitting on the porch on Main Street, sipping coffee and blogging.

What does this say about my personality? Well, I am an old man. A regular wet blanket through and through. I avoid activities that might excite my weak heart. When I go to bars, I go to quiet bars and I drink gimlets. I am a home body. I prefer candles and Ella Fitzgerald to a night of clubbing. I prefer cooking an Ina Garten meal and listening to Michael Buble than going out to dinner. I prefer nostalgic comedies to loud thrillers. I prefer Rodgers and Hammerstein's classic melodies to the busy music of today's composers. Okay, so maybe it is also just says that I am a big homo, but in general I think it says that I just prefer my peace and quiet to the incessant noise of a juice joint.

And I've come to realize that this isn't necessarily a great quality of mine. This is a part of my personality that I have to actively work on. I know that I need to get out and explore the world and I know that I'm not going to make any connections or get anywhere in life sitting in my bedroom. So, I sigh loudly and put on my club outfit on occasion and bump and grind with the best of them. But, it's just so much ya know? The loud music, the people hitting on you, the embarrassing drunken confessions of your friends. My senses can only handle so much! If only we could go back to the days of sitting around in our drawing rooms smoking cigars and drinking port and we could call that a crazy night. But alas, we've reached a point where a "crazy night" involves hash being slipped into the hooka and then that crazy Australian girl from the Cirque trying to give you a "space cake" and you waking up inside of giant metal tube with your pants off and no recollection of how you got there. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I can't keep up with kids these days! I haven't the energy and if I tried, then I fear the ole ticker might give out. So I'll content myself with my Ella, my port, and my blog and occasionally, when I'm provoked  enough, I'll put on my red pants and hipster glasses, get wasted, and pose for Warhol-worthy photos in the clubs with the rest of them. Stay comfy y'all.

It’s a three-hour drive followed by an evening at the Super 8 in the-middle-of-nowhere, Indiana. The only nearby restaurant is a Taco Bell (mildly exciting, I must admit, but still sad) and the front desk person at the hotel says, “when people wanna have fun around here, they generally stay at home.”  To top it all, your TV is missing key channels such as ABC and NBC. So whaddya do?! For me, recently, the answer is clear - play Words with Friends until your phone dies. Or, play my new Boggle-inspired personal favorite, Scramble with Friends.

I’ve gotten to the point where I can’t fall asleep because my mind is on an endless journey of letter combinations. Instead of drifting smoothly into dreamland I am chanting, “mar, ream, mare, mares, ram, rams, reams, mere, smear…” It’s actually becoming a problem. The worst part is, I’m not just playing with actual friends. I get impatient when my real friends don’t play quick enough so I play random opponents. I sit there battling with “rachelisbugmad” and I imagine this snotty, greasy-haired, little twelve-year-old girl absolutely destroying me at this stupid word game. What once was a game becomes a battle of wits and conquering the unknown. By beating this anonymous girl, I am proving to myself that I have what it takes to get through any random situation. It’s become a reflection of my life!

And then there are Words with acquaintances, Words with Facebook-friends-that-I-don’t-really-know-but-stalk-occasionally, and Words with past-professors. Each one presents its own mental stresses. I find myself sending them subliminal messages through the words I choose. I play “fart” for 8 points and they respond with “classy” for 12. It’s a whole language we’ve created and I giggle for hours afterward. Once I finish giggling I begin to evaluate my life. I think about how I ignored that phone call from my mother because I was trying to put the letter “z” on a triple word tile. I think about how I didn’t eat dinner because I was trying to decide if I could make “poop” into a longer word (Is “shipoopi” an actual word?)

And now as I write this blog, I begin to realize that what I have achieved from hours of gameplay and total word domination is – an addiction. I could be using my time in much better ways. I could be having dinner with friends, laughing with friends, watching movies with friends. REAL friends. Not virtual board game versions of my friends. So as good as my word game skillz have gotten, I think it is time to lay it to rest for a little while. I have an addictive personality when it comes to computer games. I once spent an entire week playing the Sims until I developed a headache so bad I was on the floor crying. I would say to myself things like, “My happiness meter is low.” This tells me that it is time to light a candle, curl up in my comfy corner, and contemplate better ways to use my time while on this tour. Stay comfy ya’ll, put down your phones and play with real friends.

So, I would by no means consider myself a yogi. In high school, I attended a few yoga classes at the local YMCA. That was back in my fitness class heyday when I would do cardio-lite with all the local moms. They were obsessed with me because I knew the Grease dance and I was this random teenage boy doing cardio dancing to disco music. I loved it, though. I even became great friends with the teacher, Marianne, and I regularly attended her cycling, muscle pump, and spinning classes. She kept me in great shape. Anyway, I digress, yoga.

The very first yoga class I took was at the downtown YMCA. Now, for those of you who are not familiar with downtown Asheville, NC, it is the hippiest, gayest little mountain town in the country. So yoga is kinda a big deal. I got there with my friend Becca and it was dark in the room and smooth mountain music was playing (banjos and shit). I copied the other people and got a mat, but I wasn't sure if I should get one of the block thingies or the blanket. I decided against it. A mat would have to be enough. I found a spot and sat quietly on my mat while the other hippies melted into the room with measured breaths and relaxed demeanors. The teacher guided us through the class and I did fairly well. My strong fitness background paid off. We then got to the part where you just lie there. I call it nap time, others call it shavasana. Everyone in the room started wrapping themselves in their Mexican blankets but I just chilled there blanketless. It was too late to get up and grab a blanket. I would have interrupted the flow of the bandhas or whatever.

After nap time, the teacher (who had a slight Southern accent) put her hands in prayer position and said, "Ya'll have a nice day" to which I politely replied (with my hands also in prayer position because I had taken to copying her) "You too." Well, that's when Becca laughed and laughed at me for the longest time and when she stopped laughing she informed me that the teacher had actually said "namaste." In my defense, she had an accent, it was the end of class, and it is not unreasonable at all! Namaste means "I bow to you" which is essentially what you are saying when you say "Ya'll have a nice day," right?? Ugh, well now I know.

Namaste ya'll. Stay comfy.

The reasoning behind this title: nothing more than I just wanted to talk about Twitter but didn't wanna title the post "Twitter." I suppose it stems from my self imposed need to be creative. Or perhaps my ridiculous obsession with plays on words (old man humor is my forte).

Over the past semester I developed a slight addiction to the TV series, "The Biggest Loser." I watched every episode religiously and I even did some of Jillian's "Last Chance Workouts" on my Comcast OnDemand (she knows just what to say to me). In short, I developed a sort of obsession with watching people lose weight. My roommate, Vanessa, and I would always make lots of snacks (because you can't watch the show without eating, right?) and we'd watch it before going to bed because watching them workout made us tired. The embarrassing truth of the matter is that...well... I cried, without fail, every single episode. Every episode would have an emotional arc and 3/4 of the way through the show, someone would inevitably have some incredible revelation and start crying and that's when I would lose it. I'm not ashamed, though! These people are making huge changes in their lives! They are losing more than just weight, they are losing years and years of emotional baggage and they are fighting to win back their lives. They all gained weight for someone emotional/psychological reason and that show just cuts right to the heart of the problem and transforms not only their bodies, but the way they view the world!

I've found through my four years of college that sleep is not something that is always so easily attainable. Sometimes you have to go several nights with very little rest and then catch up on the weekend with a 12 hour night of sleep. This is not a healthy cycle to get into, obviously, so I have taken to what my room mate calls "going to bed abruptly." I'll be working on homework or watching tv or whatever and I'll suddenly get the desire to go to bed, so I'll run to my room, slam the door and jump into bed. Without brushing my teeth, without going through my nightly ritual. It's a strange thing I've taken to doing, but it ensures that I get the sleep I need.

Alright, it has finally happened! I have made my first YouTube video ya'll! It's gonna be viral over night, I just know it. I feel it (and it was in my horoscope this morning). I decided to sing a song that I really connected with emotionally and sing it in a way that really brought out the lyrics. So I hope ya'll enjoy. NO HATERS! Here it is!

Yesterday, I found myself being incredibly distracted in my psychology class because the guy next to me was legit snoring. It's gonna happen of course - I have found myself in a myriad of boring classes that conveniently prefer to meet at 8am. So I have discovered ways to distract myself...

1) DOING OTHER WORK- the best thing about being in a painfully dull class is that this is often a good time to get work done that you wouldn't have time to do otherwise. For instance, I spend this time memorizing lines, journaling, or working on scripts.

2) TEXTING - Our technological world has brought about a whole new set of classroom distractions. And phones nowadays can do everything. So, I text (Chris is always up that early), I Tweet, I Facebook, and I brainstorm awesome blog entries (like this one).

3) WINDOWS - If you are fortunate, you will have a window in your classroom. This opens up a whole world for daydreaming. You can people watch, you can look at the birds, admire the changing of the leaves, watch the clouds move and just generally detach yourself from the boredom of class.

4) BECOMING OBSESSIVE OVER YOUR NAILS - This is something that I resort to a lot. I clean my nails and I judge the quality and dryness of my hands. They are, after all, always right there in front of me.

5) DOODLING - This is a big one for me. I can literally look back through my notes and find a direct correlation between the amount of doodles and the dullness of the class. I found myself doodling a legit masterpiece on the borders of my paper the other day, this is a telling sign.

6) SLEEPING - If worst comes to worst, this is always an option. I try to avoid it, but sometimes it's too tempting. I typically try to be discreet about it, though. One time I fell asleep in a math class and I literally heard the "Hallelujah Chorus" playing full blast in my dreams. Another telling sign (that I'm a huge nerd).

7) PLANNING AND LIST-MAKING - If you couldn't tell, I love making lists, so when a class gets dull, I make lists. It makes me feel like I'm being productive, even when I'm really not.

I ended up having to wake up the guy beside me before the snoring got outta hand...

I have a bit of a confession to make. I used to pride myself on leading a very healthy lifestyle. I stayed away from caffeine, I got eight hours of sleep every night, I cleaned my room semi-regularly, I would go on random little diets just to test my will power (no bread this month!, No Artificial Sugars for a week!) etc. This summer, however, has proved to turn all of those things upside down. Perhaps being in a relationship has brought out some innate laziness or something, but I have been to the grocery store once this summer (!). The rest of my food was either bought in restaurants, at fast food places or I just ate my employee meal at work (and let's just say - I don't work at the healthiest restaurant).

To add to the unhealthiness, I started to make a habit of getting breakfast at Starbucks every morning, to the point where I no longer have to pay for my venti (that's right, venti), sweetened (that right, sweetened) iced coffee (with half and half) and I no longer actually have to order. The other day though I ordered my venti and the woman who knows me all too well looked at me and said, "Would you like to try our new, bigger size, the Trenta." And out of nowhere she pulled out this mammoth cup that made the venti look like a tall. My mouth dropped when she showed me the cup. It was like a "double gulp" at 7-11. Thank god I said no. But this is what America has come to. America is a big, fat distracted baby, and venti is no longer big enough. Sad day, America, sad day.

Things that hurt, but we do them anyway. Oftentimes we do these things because the aftereffects are totally worth it. Or we do them because it's pleasureful at the time but we know we'll have to suffer the consequences later. Warning: some of these may apply only to me.

1) Listerine - It burns oh so good and the refreshing aftereffect is totally worth the pain.

2) Scratching bug bites - We know that scratching only makes it worse, but we do it anyway because it feels orgasmic.

3) Going to the gym - For some reason we like to torture ourselves. We sweat and burn and our heart hurts and we get pains in our sides and we get cramps and we are sore for the next week, but our doctor tells us we should do this 5 times a week. And we do it and we get addicted.

4) Plucking hair - We pluck because we care. We care so much in fact that we will rip the protein out of our bodies, making us tear up a bit and leaving a red mark (and sometimes drawing blood).

5) Popping pimples - It hurts, research shows it isn't good, but we do it anyway.

6) Holding in pee just to feel the release - Sometimes when I'm at work and I have to pee, I'll wait until the last possible moment just so I can feel the release. Just me?

7) Anal sex - ouch.

8) Poking bruises and injuries - We know it'll hurt, but for some reason we are fascinated with our wounds. Perhaps it is our way of making sure everything is still working correctly.

9) Going to see bad musical theatre - Probably one of the most painful/fulfilling things on this list thus far. Sometimes you just crave meaningless belting, Andrew Lloyd Webber awfulness, and sparkly costumes.

10) Drinking heavily - Despite the horrible hangover, the puking, the poor decisions, the black outs, the accidental skull and cross-bones tattoos on our faces, we still get drunk the next night.

No matter where I am, how old I am, or what values I cherish at that particular moment in time, I will always put the empty or expired milk back into the fridge. Or I will use all of the milk except the tiniest amount and put it back into the fridge thinking, "Oh, I might need that tiny bit of milk later." (I never need that tiny bit of milk). This is also true of cereal boxes. I will always have 4 or 5 pretty-much-empty cereal boxes in the cabinet. So when do these things actually get taken care of? When I open the fridge and smell something rotting. Then, I will do a mass cleaning of everything expired or empty. But I will always wait until the mass cleaning to throw things away. And I know for a fact, that I am not alone in this habit. This little fact of life is a mutual laziness amongst all humans.

Many people say things like "oh my God, I don't even wanna think about my freshman year self." In fact, I found myself saying that exact phrase just yesterday at work. And my co-worker, Sean, was like, "Yeah, there are so many times when I think to myself, 'I can't believe I actually said that.'" This got me thinking about how much I actually have changed. Well, I guess it's not that I've actually changed, but my mind has finally started to realize who I am. This realization came to me when I was writing alternate lyrics to the "Into the Woods" prologue (ya know, just another day in the life). I wrote a lyric for Jack that went "I wish I weren't so hot, or tall, or good" and Chris said, "Oh, so I guess you are going to be playing Jack?" I looked at him stunned for a second, but then I realized - saying something like that is so typical me. I don't think I really had distinctive character traits growing up. I always sort of adopted other people's cool traits and played them off as my own. But being obnoxiously sarcastic is uniquely, typically me. Now, I realize that this isn't necessarily the best of traits in all situations, and perhaps it is something that I should work on changing about myself, but for now, I am just happy that I am finally at a place where I am self confident enough to say, "That was so typical me."

And yes, it turns out, I am playing Jack.

My friend Megan recently introduced me to a new term, a term which I have just discovered directly applies to my entire personality: kidding on the square. Urban Dictionary (the most reliable reference source on the internet) defines it simply as "joking, but also meaning it." For example, let's say that it's 9am and you just met up with some friends when you suddenly look at them and say "Hey, we should totally be wasted right now. Wanna go to a bar?" Then you follow it with an awkward laugh and a glance around hoping that the "joke" is met with actual approval. My problem is that all of my jokes have a little bit of truth to them, and sometimes, I end up hurting people's feelings (completely unintentionally) or coming across as a total asshole.

Now, allow me to dig myself out of that ditch. My jokes are usually harmless (I hope. If you are sitting at home right now crying because of something I said to you, please let me know). For instance I comment on someone's sweater or something by being like "Wow, you definitely won't get hit with a car wearing that." Laugh. Awkward pause "I'm joking. The sweater doesn't actually offend me, I was just commenting on the fact that it was a very bright color." OR oftentimes my jokes come across as blatant narcissism. For example, I was walking down the street once with my friend Beth freshmen year and I turned to her and said "Ya know, I don't understand why people have so much trouble getting their work done. I get eight hours of sleep every night and I still manage to get everything done." I was joking, but I meant it. And it didn't come across as a joke to Beth, it came across as a bitchy remark. That moment haunts me to this day. Every time I complain about how stressed I am or about how I'm behind schedule on a paper, one of my classmates will gladly put on a smirk and say "Oh, I thought you always managed to get your work done on time?" To which I typically respond, "I'm sorry, but a lot of things just come to me easily. I can't help being Asian."

So I guess we can safely conclude that the more you get to know me, the more you realize that behind the kind Southern aura and the goofy smile is a sassy bitch waiting to strike. To the untrained eye, however, I'm only joking. ;)

It is a common misconception that Asians are not suited for operating vehicles. I mean, check out this Asian lady in Family Guy. If Family Guy makes fun of it, you know it must be true. I, however, have been very against this stereotype because, well - I'm Asian. And I take pride in my driving abilities. But today, I was not so proud. I felt like a true, stereotypical Asian. In fact, after reading this story, you may refer to me as - a gay-sian.

I had plans after rehearsal to go out with friends at Uno's (ya know, the most hoppin' place in the greater Boston area after 11pm). Our plans to go to "Glamorous Night" at the club were thwarted by the fact that we were all just shipooped (yeah, I went there). The only snafu in the plan was that I didn't know how to get to Uno's, so I was to follow Megan. I started out strong (following her out of the parking lot successfully) but then I got distracted as I so often do. "The Color Purple" popped up on my iPod and when that happens, I have no choice but to act out the scenes (with fervent emotion). So while I was busy saying "Nah, Celie. God not some gloomy old man like dah pictures you seen of him. God not a man at all" (etc. etc. You know the song, I'm sure) the car in front of me was no longer the Honda it used to be, it was a Jetta. I had completely forgotten that I was supposed to be following someone. Where was I going? I don't know. My brain had completely shut off ("Good ruck evelybody erse!!!") I was on Bacon Street and a rush of embarrassment came over me.

I had officially out-gayed, out-Asianed myself. I got distracted by "The Color Purple." Megan called me, "You missed the turn." Ashamed, I was like "Yeah, I don't know how that happened..." but once I got to Uno's I confessed. It was just too funny to let slide.

My brain is quite often on "space cadet mode." Here are a few things I do when I'm in this state. I'm sure many of you can relate (or, at least, I hope many of you can relate).

1. I put the remote in the refrigerator.

2. I bike or drive past the road I was supposed to turn onto (multiple times, usually).

3. I lose everything. I lose my pen/scissors/tape a million times while I'm trying to complete a project. I lose sunglasses, water bottles, and my keys constantly. I've lost my shoes. I've gone through 6 iPods and about 8 digital cameras (I'll stop there. This could be a whole new list.).

4. I take a tray of drinks into the bathroom at work (mentioned this in another post, but still funny).

5. I put balsamic vinegar in my fried rice instead of soy sauce OR I pour balsamic vinegar on my pancakes instead of syrup (the latter was a much worse experience).

6. I lock myself out of my apartment.

7. I try to pay for stuff with my student ID.

8. Sometimes, and don't judge too harshly on this one, I go into the bathroom to just pee or poo but I end up taking off all of my clothes. Once naked, I then have a moment of confusion and decide to either put my clothes back on or go ahead and take a shower (we've all done that, though, right?) I've even taken my shirt off in a public restroom only to have a moment of confusion and put it back on.

As I interact with different groups of people in the many different places in my life (home, work, school, at the bus stop, the Starbucks guy, grocery store regulars, the people at the gym [wow, even the places I frequent are frightfully standard]) I am beginning to really understand the notion that "at our core, we are all the same." Yeah, it's a trite, annoying phrase, especially for all of us that are desperately trying to be unique, stand out and leave our mark on the world. But, it really is true.. so get over it. For instance...

1. we all hate pedestrians when we're driving and and hate drivers when we're pedestrians. ("I have the right of way, asshole!")

2. we very rarely, if ever want an honest answer to the question "How are you?" (When we get an honest answer it usually ends in an awkward moment)

3. we all have an opinion of Lady Gaga, good or bad (or perhaps that's just the circles I frequent, but I can always bring up her name and it sparks a heated convo.)

4. we all resort to the same nostalgic conversations: Dinosaurs, Rugrats, Salute Your Shorts, Clarissa Explains it All, Legends of the Hidden Temple ("Omg, I wanted to be on that show SO bad. Like, that monkey at the end that they had to put together?! I was always like...it's so easy!" or "I was a Nickelodeon kid. It says SO much about your personality, right?")

5. we've all seen Glee (again, perhaps just the circles I frequent, but if you're reading this blog, I'm assuming you also watch Glee. I don't know why.)

6. we all pretty much have the same inside jokes with our friends ("You totally just pulled a Susan" or "Oh my god, what if Susan just walked in the door right now?")

7. we all get angry at people who are texting and not paying attention to where they're going, but we've all been that person.

8. we've all looked at the items other people are purchasing at the drugstore/grocery store and we've silently judged them.

9. we've all been in the awkward friend introduction situation when you don't know if you should shake hands, hug, or just give a nod. And we've all made the wrong decision at least once and felt really ashamed about it.

So breathe easy, Comfy Cornerers. We've all been there. It's all been done.

It is a hard, cold fact that we are all slaves to time. Everything we do is time stamped. Every email, every text, every BBM, every Tweet, every Facebook comment/status update/message is neatly stamped with a time (3:17 Monday, June 21, 2010). With a few clicks, I can tell you that one hour ago, Cheyenne Jackson was complaining about the humidity ("Holy humidity, Batman!") and nine hours ago Lindsay Lohan's sleep schedule was screwed up by a night shoot. As a result of all of this, timing has become one of the most crucial elements to life. You have to say the right thing at the right time or you could get yourself into trouble. i.e. emailing papers in "before midnight." Clocking into work at the correct time. And it also, unfortunately greatly applies to our social lives.

I thought I would get over this, but I haven't. So, I suppose it is time for me to confess. Whenever people don't respond to my texts immediately, my mind always imagines that they are doing something really cool or important and that their lives are so busy that they can't take two seconds to respond with a "yeah, sure" or an "lol." So I sit there feeling miserable about my dreary life reading playbill.com 24/7 as my imagination pictures the other person laughing with friends, drinking cocktails and completely forgetting about my text. I've tried that waiting game...getting a text, putting my phone down, responding an hour later. I simply can't do it! My palms get sweaty, my breath shortens, I keep glancing over at the new text I have...I MUST RESPOND! The most I've lasted is maybe 7 or 8 minutes tops.

And now, with BBM (BlackBerry Messenger), there are no secrets. When someone BBM's you, BBM tells you exactly when they read the message and at what time they received it. This does nothing but add to my anxiety because now I know if people have read my message...and I sit there awaiting a reply like a poor pound pup waiting for an owner. My heart wants to text them back "I know you read the message, are you going to respond?" but my brain tells me too play it cool and act like I have no idea that they received the message. So I wait. And when they finally respond, I'll try to give them a taste of their own medicine but (7 minutes later) I'll inevitably give in and respond.

Also, and this really drives me bonkers, BBM tells you if they are typing or not which just adds another layer to the anxiety. This means, no more editing because they will know. "Susan is typing..." long pause "Susan is typing..." long pause "haha." IT DID NOT TAKE YOU THAT LONG TO WRITE "haha" WHAT WERE YOU REALLY GOING TO SAY?

In short, time stamps mark the beginning of the downfall of man.

So I have a disability. My brain is completely unable to filter really corny jokes and they come out of my mouth before I can even have a chance to stop them. Many people have informed me that my sense of humor is equivalent to that of a 40ish-year-old father. Here are some examples of late...

1. On my first day at the restaurant I was waiting on a table and two women ordered coffee. The first woman said "I'll have the decaf" and the second woman, chuckling, said "And I'll have the caff." I grinned smugly and said "So you'd like a baby cow?" And she stared back at me blankly and said "No, I'd like caffeinated coffee." I responded with a "Yes, ma'am."

2. On my way out the door today at work my friend Fro said "See you later!" and before my stupid brain could filter it I said "CPK ya later!"

3. At Uno's last night, Chris ordered a Long Island Iced Tea-esque drink and the waiter said "I'm gonna have to see some ID" and I responded "I'm gonna have to see some ICED TEA!"

I really need to learn how to think before I speak.