Tonight is my last night in Plano. Break out the Boons Farm.... I am finally out of there. I am going to waive my hands in the air and I am going to waive them like I just don't care.

I have never been more ready to leave an apartment. Every time I wake up in that tiny shoe box I am reminded of the night I got a call from the hospital about my Dad. It's like a dark cloud lives over the roof of my apartment and I cannot seem to escape it. That place is haunted with memories of terrifying pain and such incredible loss that I pity the person that moves in after me. On top of that I half expect to see Brett Michaels playing guitar hero in his pajamas every time I open the front door. I am ready for a new environment. I am ready for change. Not Obama kinda change... but change none the less.

Shortly after my Dad passed away I made the genius move to purchase a sign to go in my living room that read "There is no place like home". As soon as Brett Michaels was done hanging it I wanted to throw them both out of the window. That apartment was never home. Too much happened. I am looking forward to making a home for myself again. Maybe if I click my little red stilettos together a couple of times, I will wake up tomorrow and be right where I want to be.

RIP Chris Daughtry.



Your time has ended. You have been voted off of the island. Your tribe has spoken. Walk the proverbial plank.

It all went to shit when his WIFE text me over the weekend. Yeah I said wife. Needless to say she was just a little bit bitter. I immediately broke up with both of them. I am not that girl and you know what... I never thought he was that guy. But apparently my judgement is considerably off lately anyway. It was an easy decision in the end and I have no regrets.

Thank you and good night. ;)

Yeah.... not sure how these things happen to me but they do. So I was showing an apartment yesterday to the sweetest little old lady. When I say little, I mean she was TINY. She may have weighed 100 lbs soaking wet. She was very sweet and went on and on and on and on. Usually this would annoy me to no end, however I happen to have a special place in my heart for the elderly. Anyway, she managed to tell me her entire life story from her son dying in Iraq to how she continues to loose and gain weight. We were pretty much BFF by the end of the tour.

This is where it starts to go down hill fast. She is looking at the closet space in the bedroom and begins to tell me about the amount of clothes that she has accumulated. She starts to tell me about how she has recently gained 20lbs. I look at her skeleton of a body and proclaim that I could not even imagine what she looked like 20lbs lighter. She then tells me that at 20lbs lighter she had absolutely no breasts and that all she had were nipples on her chest which made her look like a boy.

She said nipple at least 3 more times during our tour. Every time the word came out of her mouth I had to try to stop myself from picturing her sad shriveled little nips. This is a task I was sadly unable to accomplish.

Do you ever want to just block out the outside world for a good week or so? I swear every few months I want to scream "SHUT UP" at the top of my lungs and crawl into hole and hibernate for as long as possible. The thoughts in my head during that time are loud enough that I simply do not need the outside distraction. I want to throw my email into the bog of eternal stench and put my phone on silent for at least 7 days.

Its not that I dont want or need people, its just that sometimes I need to internalize things for a little while and gain some prospective. I am not shutting you out... I am shutting me in. I refuse to stay in this padded room for long because at the end of the day I am a people person and I desperately need my family and my friends.

Things have gotten a little fuzzy lately. Time seems to be running in circles around me and I cant seem to make sense of it all. For instance I looked up one day and it was May... The last time I remember looking at a calendar it was flippin March.

I found out recently that I will be moving once again, I really should invest in my own moving van at this point. By the end of the month I will be back in the LC. I am looking forward to being closer to my family and it also helps that my new pad will be pimptastic. Did I really just say that? Ladies and gentleman, let the packing begin.

Brett Michaels has recently started calling again, the first couple of times I did not answer the phone. I remember the first time that I had heard his ring tone in a while, my head turned to the side like my pug does when she hears a funny noise. I finally answered on the 5th or 6th call I am not sure which. We talked for 20 minutes or so. He is doing well, still living the dream out in Saginaw and trying to get his life back in order. He wants to be friends... I guess I don't see any harm in that? He wouldn't be the first person I would call if my little hut was on fire, but I think more so he meant that he needed a good friend, and that I can handle.

My friend B Dub and I were recently at The Cheese Cake Factory for lunch when we noticed an interesting item on the menu. B Dub, always being the fun one, first notices this ridiculous monstrosity and brings it to my attention.

They actually have a dish called "Weight Management Grilled Chicken". Seriously? I mean seriously?? Who orders that? I can just imagine sitting there and looking up at the waiter with a strait face and ordering the Weight Management Chicken?? Come on now, they could not come up with a better name than that? I immediately picture a sad little chicken breast laying on a plain white plate looking awfully defeated and possibly even ran over. The menu describes it as "Lightly Pounded Chicken Breast Charbroiled and Topped with a Tomato and Arugula Salad. Garnished with Steamed White Rice and Asparagus." After reading their description the chicken I am picturing in my head now has a face and is wearing a black suit. He is laying next to 4 pieces of white rice and he is holding a sad little piece of asparagus in his hand.

The best part ... They trademarked the name! Needless to say B Dub and I ordered something else off of the menu.