Batista's ex-girlfriend is a beeyotch.

Happy now, Grumpy Pants? For the record, she might be, but she's also a snotty selfish douche that shouldn't be mooned over.

Okay then. SPEAKING of mooning things, I had a little "adventure" today. I'm not really sure why all the weird stuff happens to me, I just know that it does. So yesterday post work at HLS, I decide to change into my workout clothes pre walking to the gym. There's the Shangri-La of bathrooms on the first floor so I scampered down there. It's HUGE and marble and there's even a cute little settee with a nice screen in front of it in the corner. So I wander in around 5:05, there are no students around and no one really works on the first floor, so I'm all alone. I put my belongings on the bench and begin to change fairly rapidly but without ever really taking any clothes off. It's a trick you learn as a woman in large dressing rooms. I mean, some womens just walk around buck naked, but I loves me some clothes so I tend to kind of pile things on and then take off my original outfit so I'm only wearing one. It kind of reminds me of Cistercian prom, but that's a different story. Anywhom, I'mm there alone when I realize that my gym shorts are the pair that really aren't meant to be worn with yet another pair of underwear since they already have their own built in. I consider this predicament for a moment and then decide "What the hey! No one's been in here for 10 minutes and I'm kind of hidden behind a screen!" For the record, the screen is definitely enough to cover you if no one's looking kinda, but it's not the most concealing article of furniture I've ever seen. Moving on, the very *second* I drop trow, someone walks in the door. She glances, I panic, almost fall over, I can't get my foot through the hole, you get the picture. Whoever it was probably saw my booty, but we'll never know because I ran the second I actually managed to put them on. Kind of like the time I was changing in my room sophomore year and glanced out the window and saw someone STARING STRAIGHT AT ME. Or like the time freshman year when I was living in the yard and changing and classes let out and I fell over trying to put on jeans and revealed my underwear to hundreds of people. The stories go on.

Other than that, SOMEONE who lives in my apartment and is not a mew needs to get over his ex girlfriend. I think we can all agree that she's a bitch, she's not half as cute as I am, he was the attractive one in the relationship anyway, and that he has enough problems without the stress anyway. But he did ask me to put out a small plea for someone to come over and makeout with his hotness so that he can call his ex and tell her. I told him that I wouldn't and Kitty isn't allowed, so we're turning to other sources. Richard, go out and peruse the ladies of Boston and report back to me. I will invent a questionnaire.

Noreen, Nermal is the most awesomest name for a mew mew ever. Liz, we are not going to talk about oozing anymore. Ew. Amy, I think pea soup green is a great color. Em, why aren't we watching Deep Blue Sea?