Tonight, after the SO got home from school, I have ordered, the biggest, the baddest pizza around. The Grilled Chicken Club from Papa Johns. Okay, I’ve had this pizza once or twice (okay, maybe four times) before and it’s the shizznit << yes, I am entitled to use that. I am so unghetto it’s not funny. Anyway, I’m waiting for it to arrive and then it dawns on me that this pizza place closes at 11. They are totally going to spit on my pizza guys. Totally. So tomorrow, when I come down with some really God awful illness, we’ll know who to blame. But if I totally have this kick ass pizza, I guess I’ll have to suck up my ego to their professionalism – right? Besides, whatever doesn’t kill me will just make me stronger.

The code word I’ve learned is “I’ll be back later,” which is cue for our annoying neighbor saying “Hey, thanks for letting me mooch off of you again but I won’t be back to hang with your sorry asses.” I’m starting to feel quite….used. She comes over for the phone, the vacuum, cd’s. Whatever strikes her fancy. Then she leaves her 3 and 4 year olds unattended (and I’m all like OMG WTF). Last night she borrowed our vacuum at 9:45PM. Not AM but PM. I was in my Pajama’s and we were just getting ready for bed (awww, snuggles!) and I hear this knock on my door. She’s totally crafty too – ain’t no tricking her. Our friggen light was on so the SO turns it off. I was like DAMN she knows we’re awake. She knocks again. I answer the door in my oh-so-cute scottie shorts and Tommy Tee that I usually sleep in, and she’s like “Hey ya’ll. What you guys up to?” and we look at each other and say “We’re about to go to sleep!” and she’s like “Oh, well then I’ll just bring back your vacuum tomorrow.” And I was all like “Who said you could borrow it?”

No. I didn’t really say that. Instead the SO walks over with OUR vacuum (that was my last years birthday present – totally not kidding) and hands it to her. She brings it back a half hour later and the bottom is all gunked up. Then she has enough balls to come over today “Can I use your phone?” and then says to me “Oh, he didn’t answer, but if he calls back will you come give me the message?” ^%#$#&(*%%&^#!!!!!!111!!!1 WHAT THE HELL. I am not her secretary – omg.

I totally didn’t get a chance to study tonight – instead I watched a documentary about the Romanov’s. I used to wish that Anastasia was alive, but that was because I totally thought that my Grandmothers family was Russian – but my Mom swears that they were Austrian. So now I’m all screwed up in my history. But that’s okay – it’s still a tragic story and I guess I could still wish that Alexi and Anastasia made it. I really had no clue that Prince Phillip (read: Queen Elizabeth’s husband for all you commoners like myself that maybe didn’t catch up on the latest British gossip)….anyway, I had no clue he was related to them. Pretty spiffy.