I think I'm in love with the girl with bubblegum pink hair at the Jiffy-Lube on lake city. Standard black jumpsuit with a navy sweatshirt hood poking out the back. Black wool nightwatchman cap with a logo patch that is clearly cool enough to be beyond my range of recognition. Tire pressure guage and a ratchet stuck in her back pocket. Hot. Hot. And, well, hot.

Girls are strange. God love 'em.

Would you care to elaborate on that, Zach?

No. Not really.

Sunshine feels so good. And so very foreign.

I was once offered a job as a model scout. I turned it down. What the hell was I thinking?

My ego needs some help. I'm not sure why that's the case, but it is. I think it may be a budget issue. Maybe I was given a lifetime supply of ego at birth and just ran through it all too quickly. Cuz god knows I had ego pouring out my friggin ears for large chuks of my lifetime. But now...I get anxious. Uneasy. Nervous. And over dumb things, too. Like girls. And money. And the philosophical conundrum of surviving in this meaningless existence. Ya know, fluff stuff.

Girls never made me nervous before. Never. Now they are terrifying creatures. And that''s just bizzarre. Cuz they shouldn't be. I'm usually larger than them. They don't have a tendency to bite. And they don't usually bother me. It's really a lot like my fear of spiders. But yet they have an amazing effect on me. They make me say stupid things and forget to breathe and just look and act goofy. Well, I probably always look goofy. But you know what I mean. And I should say that it isn't all girls--it's not vagina proximity--it's just the girls I like. Which is truly a shame. If I could be nervous and dorky around the girls I didn't like, that wouldn't be so bad. But no. It just doesn't work like that. It never works like that.

So my neighbors accross the street have this sign up in their window. It's an American flag with the words "9-11 -- We still remember" written underneath it. And it isn't that I'm entirely unsympathetic to the sentiments behind such a message, but even so, I just have to say, of course you still remember it you FAWKING IDIOTS! I mean it's not everyday you see a fully loaded passenger jet ram a fully loaded office building that just happens to be one of the world's most recognizeable icons, explode into flames and come crashing to the ground killing 1500 people--TWICE. That's a noteworthy day. And then to see that footage replayed hundreds if not thousands of times over the course of the next week--they say that repitition IS the key to memory recall--so that just MIGHT have aided in your miraculous ability to vaguely recollect the happenings on a date a WHOLE SIX FRIGGING MONTHS AGO. I truly wish I lived accross from the Seattle Alzheimer's Clinic or Drooling Acres Retirement Community or the Special Olympics Training facility or someplace where I could justify this moronic display. But I don't. They drive a Taurus.

People are broken.

Oh, right...I have a blog. I must have forgotten temporarily. It happens sometimes. Why haven't I written in two weeks? Did stuff happen? Was I feeling private? I'm just going to go Enron on your ass and say "you don't get to know." They were blogless days and that's the way they'll stay.

This may be the creepiest thing I have read in a long time.