I’m going all cliche blogger on you and doing bullets.

(What a great way to start! I’m sure you all are hanging off the edge of your chair now that you know this post is in bullet form. I think I might even hear cheering from the cheap seats!)

• I hate men. No, that’s not true. My lovelies (George, Josh and John- men who my heart calls only by their first name) shouldn’t be lumped in with the scoundrels that repeatedly stomp on my heart. Or at least.. other vital organs that are less cliche. Perhaps my liver? Anyway… men. The scoundrels. I usually love and hate them in equal amounts, but after today I’m pretty sure the scale has tipped in the direction of hate.

• I have booked my trip. I have bought bathing suits. I have bought sunscreen. I’m excited. Or … right now I’m trying to be. Bloody hell. Only a man could ruin a vacation. I hate the way that I allow other people to chose how I’m going to feel. I was so excited about this trip and now I just want to go lay down and listen to the Mamma Mia! soundtrack and drink Tang.

• I saw Mamma Mia! and it’s fucking awesome. Meryl Streep should get handfuls of diamonds, buckets of rainbows and bricks of gold for her performance. And if she’s not your personal Jesus, Colin Firth takes his shirt off. That alone is worth the ticket.

• I bought a pair of gladiator sandals and everytime I wear them I want to say “At my signal, unleash hell” in my most Russel Crowe like voice. Which? Everyone loves to hear.

• I just found my travel journal from when I was in grade 10 and went to Disneyland. It’s hilarious. I found it extremely important to detail everything I ate (ex: “Tuesday, September 24th: One hamburger, grapes and a medium orange pop for lunch. It was great, the grapes were red.”) and everything I bought (ex. “Today I bought an awesome Calvin Klein grey sweatshirt. *It has the logo on the front so everyone will know where I bought it”). Did I write anything about going to Disneyland? Or Knott’s Berry Farm? Or ANYTHING? Nope. Because it was far more important to detail the color of grapes. The very last thing I wrote in it is “p.s. I saw a homeless man get hit by a car outside LAX”. Just one line. But I wax on and on about that bloody Calvin Klein sweatshirt for two paragraphs. The journal for my upcoming trip will be better. Lord knows it couldn’t be worse.

• If you want to have the BEST TIME EVER, go watch horse racing. And cheer loudly while drinking sugary coolers (hi Bacardi Breezers? Thanks for taking me back to highschool). And then take many, many pictures outside a pizza shop.

• Bathing suit shopping is less stressful if you have two martinis for lunch. I do not suggest it, I’m just saying it doesn’t hurt. Until like, 4pm and your brain feels like it’s been slapped by God himself.

• Scrabulous off of facebook? I did not need this to happen this week. Seriously. My whole life day is screwed up now.

* And yes. I know it’s shallow. What can you expect? It was my second week of HIGHSCHOOL and I thought labels made me cool. Now I know better. Now I know iphones are what makes you cool.