1. My neighbor’s intense Mexican music
There’s this Mexican family that lives across the street from me and every Saturday and Sunday afternoon, the dad goes to his truck and bumps up some crazy ass Mexican type of music so the whole neighborhood can hear it.

I don’t know what the genre is called but the one I’m listening to it right now (yes, he’s playing it at this very moment) is fast, usually one-note, and every now and then you hear a man’s voice and it’s always either really high-pitched and piercing (weee beeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!) or really low and throaty.

I really don’t know what I’m listening to but I fucking love it.

2. Answering a shitload of questions on Yahoo! Answers
About once a month, for three whole years, I’ve been going on Yahoo Answers late at night to enlighten minds.

3. Asking a shitload of dumb questions on Yahoo! Answers
I’ll be honest here; some of my questions on there are really pathetic, though I do it anyway because their answers give me some weird sense of finality and certainty.

Believe it or not, I’m the person who Yahoo users think is suffering from paranoia because I’d ask completely unnecessary questions such as, “Does he rly like me?” and in the description I’d put shit like, “Well…we text each other a lot, and well…we talk on the phone until 4am and he buys me dinner. What do you think?”

When more than one person answers, “Yeah sounds like you guys have something going on” I can sleep at night.

I can’t help myself.

4. Eating at Denny’s or iHop with buddies until 3 or 4 A.M.
For some reasons breakfast just taste so fucking delicious during that time-not that breakfast food isn’t generally good, it’s just 10x better when you eat it around 3 in the morning.

5. Coughing up a gnarly looking loogie and analyzing it
Thanks to one of my gaming buddies, Dan, he recently mentioned something about examining a loogie after spitting it out, to which I bashfully replied, “I uh…I do that.”

I’m actually sick right now, and for the past few days, I’ve been hocking up the gnarliest looking shit-globs of shit snot and mucous you will ever see in your lifetime. And it fucking hurts too. It’s the kind of loogie where it feels like it’s slicing your throat with a vegetable peeler ever time you cough or clear your throat.

It’s so gnarly that after every spit, I’d say, “What the fuck is that?” and I’d end up studying it for a minute or two, you know, inspecting the coloration, the impressions that it leaves when I wiggle it with my finger, the layers, the depth, and the moisture of the loogie.

I’ve been seeing a lot of that rugged look on guys lately. You know, the ones that looked like they just attacked a huge fucking bear and drank python blood for three consecutive months? Ok. Maybe not. But I’m talking about guys who grow out their facial hair. I don’t know if it’s because they’re too gotdamn lazy to shave, or that it’s a trend or maybe a combination of both, but I like it.

Mustaches and five o’clock shadows are sexy and can be very manly and manliness equals to hotness; they give your face more of a personality. Not only do they look great but also they feel great. I must have tough skin since I know for a fact that most women find it rather painful to kiss a man with rough facial hair, whereas I take pleasure in stroking and caressing my cheeks against the jagged stubbles whilst my hands…and I’m stopping before this turns into a sex tape.

Moustaches and beards are excellent for concealing any imperfection one might possess such as unwanted pimples, wrinkles, fat, herpes and the like. Should a hairy guy shave, he will lose major points in the attractive scale.

A man needs his mustache just like a woman needs her makeup. When you take away his mustache, you’re also taking a piece of his dignity and the X amount of asses he could’ve tapped if he only had the stache.

Obviously, I am speaking in general (ie: some may look good with or without it), but I’ll give you an example of a guy who needs facial man hair to win the gals…and American Idol in this case:

David Cook.

He’s not that bad looking, sort of cute actually, and that’s because he didn’t shave. And look he’s crying! Wah! Crying takes away a lot of man points, but with the help of the divinity of his facial hair, we really don’t care that he’s shedding happy tears.

Now here’s a photo of him with little hair.

Don’t mind the watermark (“Not for public use” FUCK YOU!!)!

Since David seems to be a kind, gentle soul (whatever that means), I’ll try to be nice and only apply one word for the photo above, “NO.”

Socks and wet feet are one of the most horrid combination of maximum discomfort. Aren’t they the worst? I don’t know why, but there seems to be small areas of puddles scattered throughout the house this week. I hate puddles. You don’t notice them until you step on one, and that’s where you go, “Fuck! I stepped on a puddle with my socks on!” I think I changed my socks four times today all because of it. At first, it wasn’t so bad, and you’d think the socks would eventually dry up but it NEVER does. Minutes later, you start to feel the wetness travel to the bottom of your feet and that’s definitely where the line is crossed. I can’t have that shit anymore.

I don’t want to end this entry leaving people pissed off about how irritating wet socks are, so I’ll tell you what feels unbelievably good: Cleaning your ears with q-tips. I look forward to it every night after every shower I take. Yes shower! Wetter is better (except for wet socks). Sometimes, people think I’m doing something else in the bathroom, but no no it’s just little Tiff working the q-tip.

I know that using q-tips for your ears is supposedly unsafe and limits your hearing, but I cannot resist the temptation.

The end.