I am ready to blow up/import a virus/throw a flaming bag of dog poop on their doorstep to Sallie Mae, or whatever it is named now.  Every time I call, I cannot seem to get a person on the other end of the line that speaks fluent English.  I am all about diversity, but please don't thread my call through the Burma office.  I want to speak to a nice lady name Carol or Patsy that can really answer my questions.

A few more things:
I better not "catch" Ebola. 

If ISIS comes knocking, I'm sicking Biscuit on their fannies.  I will be closely following with a dirty diaper and my crockpot.  Take no prisoners.

I played some Notorious B.I.G. for my 16 year old neighbor.  Her response? "What is this?!?" Her younger sister quickly replied, "OH, this is that music from the olden days."  And there you have it.

My 35th birthday came and went.  Nothing spectacular.  Oh how I miss the days of day drinking at SJC in the IM field, knowing your birthday will be celebrated by everyone.  Not so much. 

I have fired up my old MP3 player in the hopes of inspiring some sort of exercise like movements during the course of the day.  I have nothing to report.

The Lions are off to a decent start.  My fingers are still crossed for a Superbowl appearance. 

New reality television obsessions:  Below Deck.  I want to charter a yacht now.

Fall is here. Bring on the sweatpants and Uggs.  (Happy face.)