Here’s a few things I’ve seen on Facebook that make me wonder, “What the hell!?”

(NOTE: Some of this may seem mean, but I’m really just joking around. And I have WAY too much free time on my hands.)

First, a status update from a friend yesterday.

“[So-and-so Lastname] is in labor and can’t wait to see baby Rich.”

Um, OK. It makes sense that you are excited about your first baby. It also makes sense that you would want to share the wonderful news with your friends and family. However, it just seems odd to me that you are updating your Facebook status while in labor.

Clearly, I’ve never given birth. I haven’t seen it happen, and I don’t really want to. (Girl parts. Barforama.) And so I admit, maybe this isn’t THAT weird, or I am making a big deal out of something that really isn’t. I would think, though, that in this situation, I would be thinking, “Oh my god, I’m in labor!” not, “Oh my god, I must update my Facebook status!” Feel free to correct me if I’m wrong, ladies (or less ignorant gentlemen).

Second, a comment I saw just now of aforementioned girl in her hospital bed, presumably in labor.

“OMG, you look so beautiful!”

Really!? I’m not saying pregnant women can’t be beautiful. However, NO ONE looks good in a hospital gown and IVs in their arms. You could say that giving birth is beautiful, but anyone in a hospital bed in a hospital gown is probably not looking their best. Sure, you could want to send warm wishes and thoughts. Perhaps you could say “Congratulations!” or “You’ll be a great parent!” Like other people who commented.

Third, a whole BUNCH of comments on a Facebook News post.

Facebook made a post introducing a new feature. The last sentence of this post explicitly stated, “We are incrementally rolling out this feature, and it may not be working for you just yet.” Pretty straight-forward.

Yet there were hundreds of comments from people who apparently can’t read a whole post before complaining that said, “OMG it doesn’t work!!!! ”

You’re right, it doesn’t. And THEY TOLD YOU that it might not. Surprise, surprise.

I thought it would be fun to invite my friend to lunch via a haiku text message. Here’s what ensued.

Oh, fair Miss Dudley,
I propose on bended knee,
Will you lunch with me?

But of course, my heroic prince,
We shall go at twelve,
Fortwith and hence?

Yes, but in what space?
At Dave’s, or a taco place?
Please, decide with haste!

It is pizza that I crave,
So for Dave’s do I rave!

Oh, we are but nerds.
This exchange is so absurd!
And yet, I love it.

For those of you who either haven’t been to college or have well-to-do parents – you bastards! just kidding – I have a little tidbit for you: paying back your student loans sucks. A lot. And not in a way that any sane person would enjoy.

Since I just made loan payments and I only have $34 for the rest of the month and therefore have nothing better to do on a Friday night, here is a list of all the things I’d rather do than pay Sallie Mae.

• EAT SNAILS. Those of you who know me in person know that I’m not a very adventurous person. Like Garfield, I’m also afraid of Jon’s new recipes. It’s worth it, though, to keep my firstborn child (which is equivalent to approximately two monthly payments).
• TOUCH A GIRL’S BREASTS. Yes, I’m gay. Yes, I’ve done it before. (In my defense, I’d downed enough vodka to make a rhino feel relaxed.) And no, it didn’t do anything for me. Honestly, after the whole milking feature, I can only view them as soft, jiggly, round pillows. But for enough cash, my hands could become breast-fanatics for about five minutes. (Six or seven maybe, if you count REALLY fast or give me a vodka IV.)
• GO VEGETARIAN. As much as I love meat, I can go to town at the salad bar. (Except I usually put meat on the salad. Shit!) I also like soup. Mm, soup. I’d probably have to take supplements because I think beans have the culinary value of a handful of dirt, but I’d make it. So what if I’d daydream about tacos and bacon cheeseburgers and pepperoni pizza instead of cute boys? I’d probably be able to afford so much vodka that I’d forget I was hungry in the first place (or just make me not want to eat anything, besides).
• PLAY FINAL FANTASY X-2. Oh god, what a horrible game. If I wanted to watch Charlie’s Angels, I would! I traded that piece of worthless carbon in faster than Garfield can scarf down lasagna. I’m sure I’d lose a few brain cells if I picked it back up, but at least I’d earn some sort of nerd points.
• MAKE OUT WITH JAKOB DYLAN. This one’s sort of self-explanatory. With those dreamy blue eyes, who wouldn’t?
• HANG OUT WITH DUBYA. I’d only do this if I was allowed to ask, “Can you pronounce the word ‘nuclear?’” and laugh profusely. Also, I’d need a strict time limit to prevent the loss of too many IQ points.
• WATCH THE “OMG SHOES” YOUTUBE VIDEO. Some of you apparently found it amusing. I’d rather rub my face against sandpaper for an hour. Or get paid a ton of cash (obviously).
• SLEEP WITH MIMI FROM “THE DREW CAREY SHOW.” Just kidding.

Seriously, folks. This list could go on. And on. And on and on. But I’m sure you’re tired of my boredom- and broke-induced drivel. I’m tired of writing it. Off to play Animal Crossing!

Nerds are probably my favorite candy of all time. I love them. I inhale them. I devour them. They are sugar’s best form. I’ve never had a negative experience involving Nerds. Until now.

I was laying in bed eating an economy-size box of Nerds. And to the surprise of only people who have never met me even once, I spilled a couple of them onto my bed. Because of my extreme love, I decided to eat them anyway. MISTAKE.

A few seconds after I started munching away, I noticed a weird taste in my mouth. This doesn’t taste like Nerds, I thought. I looked around the room, and saw that Alice had tracked some cat litter crystals near her litter box and also in her favorite chair. That’s when I realized..

..I WAS MUNCHING ON A CAT LITTER CRYSTAL.

I rushed to the bathroom sink like my tighty-whiteys were on fire. It was gross.

I have to admit, though, I’m still eating Nerds.

You’d think that, because I date people from my own gender, that I’d be free from the Battle of the Sexes. You’d be wrong. I”m not attracted to women – thank all the stars in the heavens – but sometimes you drive me plumb crazy! Here are a few reasons why.

1. I’M NOT A MIND READER. No, really. Men can’t read minds. Do you see a name badge that says “Miss Cleo” across my chest? No. Didn’t think so.

MAN: What kind of pizza do you want?
WOMAN: I don’t care. Whatever you want.
MAN: OK, how about supreme?
WOMAN: Um, no, I’m not really feeling that.
MAN: OK, how about pepperoni and olive?
WOMAN: That doesn’t really sound good either.
MAN: So much for “whatever you want.”
WOMAN: You should know I don’t want olives on my pizza!

If you don’t explicitly tell me something ahead of time, don’t expect me to know it. I can’t see what you’re thinking. Don’t expect me to!

2. IT’S OK TO NOT DO LAUNDRY EVERY DAMNED DAY. We’re going on a two-day mini-vacation. In two days, we need to wear two different sets of clothes. This does not mean that, if we’re leaving Friday, you have to spend all day Thursday washing your entire wardrobe. We’re packing two sets of clothes here, not Kenneth Cole’s Spring collection.

Also, it’s really over the top to wash clothes while you’re on a TWO-DAY vacation. “But I don’t want to have to do laundry when I get back!” ..Really!? Will it kill you to let it sit there for one whole day? Is there a dirty-clothes Elf who will come and snatch away your favorite sweater if you let it sit for an hour too long. Calm down, lady!

3. IT’S NOT OK TO LEAVE THE BATHROOM DOOR OPEN IF OTHER PEOPLE ARE HOME. I love some women – in a completely platonic way. Many men like to see women naked. (I’m obviously not one of them.) However, I don’t care how much any man likes your naked body, we don’t want to see it while you’re on the loo. If someone else is at home, for the sake of anything that is holy (and for a lot of things that aren’t), please just shut the damn door.

“But I’ll only be in there for five minutes!” No. Not a valid excuse. That will be the five-minute period where I decide I really, really, REALLY have to go, and you’ll traumatize me for life. No wonder I’m gay!

There are more reasons, but I’m so exhausted from dealing with your crazyestrogen pants that I need strong liquor sleep. I’m off to bed. For goodness’ sake, don’t hog the covers!

The kids I have this week are HILARIOUS.

This morning, we were working on counting. One of my kids noticed a card that had six cherries on it from a distance. “Are those plungers?” he asked me. I kid you not. PLUNGERS. What kid talks about plungers at school?

Later we were playing with blocks, and they’d built a “restaurant.” The same kid asked me what I wanted to order. “Can I have some quesadillas?” I asked. He picks up a block, hands it to me, and exclaims, “Right on, baby!” I was laughing so hard, I couldn’t even reply.

I freakin’ love love love my job. The only bad thing about today is that I can’t stop singing. “Now you know the Muffin Man, the Muffin Man, the Muffin Man..”

I have my window open because it’s nice outside and living with smokers sucks.

This little girl comes up to my window, looking at Alice.

“Excuse me! What kind of cat is that? She’s so pretty!”

Alice promptly reared up and hissed at her.

Aw, poor little girl. She was so sweet!