Meh.

Meh. My new word for "I'm not feeling good but I can't put to words what doesn't feel good." Perhaps it's the bronchitis. Perhaps it's the cough medicine talking. Who knows. (The cough medicine last night liked talking about threesomes and $100 Create-Your-Own-Dildo-Kits... so who knows.)

Girls who put yellow smiles on their AIM profiles should be hit in the head with a brick. One smile is torture, but five or six... one after every sentence... bad. Just bad.

Yes, there is such a thing as a Create-Your-Own. It's featured in the January Marie Claire. Look it up for yourself, and stop thinking about how exactly it works.

Oprah today had this guy on who wrote a soon to be famous book - He's Just Not That Into You.

Let me just say, wow. Every woman should read this. It's like those bricks that half the girls on my buddy list have now embedded in their skulls. Hello!? Wake up call. (A "Knock me up" in London. Poor Americans who think they are going to get laid by a Brit when instead the phone rings at eight AM for their "wake up call.")

I have now a list of men that is quite short, well, non-existent. They just weren't that into me, eh? Well hey, I wasn't that into (all) of them either.

Ok, I lie.

Stop looking at me like that. I swear, it's the medicine speaking.

Goodnight dearies.