• Capital punishment.
• Medieval torture.
• Cannibalism.
• Dust mites.

Wow! No! You're the first person to suggest that! Problem solved. Thanks, buddy!

In reality, there's no way I could teach. I have less patience than most two-year-olds, and I can't imagine that would be useful in a classroom setting. I've pictured the scene in my head many times, and I always end up throwing a book or a white board marker at the student in the back who can't learn to spell "onomatopoeia."

That said, I'm not always sure how to handle myself at work these days, where I've been turned into a verb and hailed as "a wizard," "the bestest," and "the smartest person ever."

Really, I just paid attention in third grade and picked up a few tips about Microsoft Office. Also, I live at a computer, so I know how to use one. If not, I know how to use Google. So, if those are truly the qualifications for being "the bestest," well, fine. But man, Mozart is going to be so disappointed.

Things I (patiently) taught my coworkers last week:

• How to resize a textbox in Publisher.
• How to insert a right tab (or any tab) in Word and drag it around on the ruler.
• How to justify text in Word or Publisher.
• Shortcut functions like CTRL+Z, CTRL+Y, CTRL+C, etc.
• How to open a new tab in a browser.
• How to switch between tabs in a browser.
• How to open a program from the Start menu.

So. Yeah. That vacation can happen any time now.

P.S. This entry is not at all meant to be a slam against my coworkers. They're great! I just wish I had the patience to teach them what they need to know. :(

I'm running away.

More specifically, I'm flying to Tay-hoss at the end of May. One of my bestest friends, Sexy Beast, is getting commissioned into the Marines on May 23, and he invited me to the ceremony. Hopefully, I'll return with wonderful stories and dreamy sighs and something to say here other than "Please kidnap me." In fact, I have one hawt cuddle session planned, as well as one hawt make-out session, and there have even been rumblings of a threesome.

Now if I could just bring all my friends back with me in my suitcase, then I'd really be a happy girl. Well, and once I get Pats over here to hook me up with Elijah Wood.

P.S. Okay, so I do work at a church, which therefore makes the whole slut thing not at all an option. It is, however, really funny to imagine anyone from my church stumbling across this entry and shrieking "Heathen!" like a banshee.

P.P.S. The very fact that I would be amused by someone else's horror strongly indicates that I really shouldn't ever come back from this vacation. The church is much better off without me.

P.P.P.S. If you ever come across a banshee that screams, "Heathen!" please let me know. That would make for one awesome pet.

I get really angry whenever I walk past our collection of World Book encyclopedias. I distinctly remember when we bought them. The woman who sold them to us was sitting at the kitchen table with my parents, and I was nearby on the floor of the family room. I was eight years old and casually reading through the dictionary, which was a pretty typical evening pastime of mine. I was happy in that innocent little way that only children can be.

Just then, the World Book saleswoman looked over, noticed what I was doing, and told my parents that I was an odd child. She turned to me and said, "You shouldn't be reading the dictionary. You should be doing something fun!"

I scrunched up my face and looked to my parents. I expected them to defend me, to support my love of words and reading and learning. Instead, they let out a traitorous laugh and signed away a large chunk of money for the horrid lady's encyclopedias.

I will never forget.

While we're on the subject, who knew they still manufactured ball mice? I expected to get an optical mouse with my new Dell computer at work, but I guess someone knew I'd be too distracted by my new, shiny 22" monitor to notice the whole "Hey, my mouse seems to have ceased working now that I've dragged it over my Pop-Tart crumbs" thing. But here we are, two months later, and I totally noticed. Yeah. Don't underestimate me again, Dell, or I'll have to knit you a pretty little scarf or two.

By night, I am a wannabe tough girl. I watch action movies and gritty television shows. I hold up my Nerf gun and wonder what it would be like to hold a real gun. I practice my grimace in the mirror, training my eyes to pierce through the very souls of my enemies.

But somehow, in the end, I am only effective in being a bitch when it comes to correcting the spelling and grammar of those who chat with me on AIM. I believe this is what the internet would call an "epic fail."

Adam: Thank you for not being a junkie of a sister.
Me: Umm, you're welcome.
Me: Thank you for not being a junkie of a brother?
Adam: No prob. Or a fat hobbit.
Me: That too.
Me: Well actually . . .
Me: If you were Sean Astin, you would most likely know the whereabouts of Elijah Wood right now, which is information I would like to have. It would be very valuable "intel" to me.

And at that point, my brother rolled his eyes and remembered that I'm a pretty annoying sister even without any drug addictions.

I cannot tell you how glad I am that winter is finally over, but I can tell you that I kissed this flower.

Spring has officially arrived in Skirtsville when the parents move the patio furniture to the edge like that to keep the dog from doing his thing on that particular patch of grass. The dog is a lazy, old fart who is not interested in marking any territory that isn't currently beneath his legs, and it takes quite a bit of effort to get him to walk to the edge of the patio, beyond the first bit of lawn, and into the "it's okay to pee here" part of the yard. Life would be a lot easier if he would just choke on my panties and die, but he's apparently invincible.

That said, I would really like to pass this on to more deserving people. That list is actually quite long, however, so I'm going to strike a deal with you. You leave a comment on this entry (make sure to give me a link to your blog), and I'll officially deem your blog E for Excellent, too.

Rachelskirts' List of Excellent Blogs:

• jakebuck.com
• achildsromance.org/blog
• thoughtfulnature.blogspot.com
• catchingessence.com (blog under construction)
• 3intheam.com
• bigmexicandinner.com

Before you start freaking out, no, I do not play World of Warcraft. Well, not anymore. I did let my coworkers at Office Depot talk me into playing for upwards of nine months. Then, I went back to school and let my Texas boys talk me out of playing. (It is completely possible to quit that game "cold turkey," by the way, so stop all your whining, pansies.)

Other things I have (stupidly) let people talk me into doing:

• Climbing on top of monkey bars as a kid. (I fell through once and hit my chin on the way down.)
• Getting my hair (which was down to my butt) cut to my shoulders for twin day in third grade.
• Eating food from Waffle House.
• Obtaining a street sign in a rather thief-like manner...
• Applying for a job at my church. (Oh snap! Did I just say that?)

Upon further reflection, I guess I really don't let people push me around too much, but I would still probably sell my soul to buy the love of a nice-smelling musician who appreciated semicolons. You could also probably get me to do your homework for you if you promised me cookies in return. Just don't ask me to play WoW again unless you're volunteering to do all my dirty work for me while I pick out cute new outfits for my priestess.

I love my family dearly, but we seriously need to get out of the house more often. We're never going to get our own sitcom with dinners like that.

P.S. Yes, these entries are all back-dated, so the content looks like it's from the future. Get over it. Also, my new camera is rad, thanks for asking.

Well, I don't really have a crush on every boy, but I've been discovering that I'm a bit of a sucker for certain types of guys. Namely, the following:

• Boys who know and appreciate proper spelling and grammar.
• Boys who smell nice.
• Boys who are musicians. (Pianists are my ultimate weakness, followed closely by drummers.)

There are, of course, a thousand other things that I like and don't like in a guy, but almost any jerk could sit down at a piano and steal my heart away in an instant. If he was also giving a lecture on the proper spelling of "definitely" and wearing a sexy cologne, I'd be in serious trouble. I guess the real problem is that there are a lot of boys who fall into the above categories, which leaves me with too much swooning to do and not enough time for making out with Frodo Baggins on Sims 2.