An American living in America.

On my weekly trip to Wal-Mart, I marveled at how while leaving I am afforded such a majestic view of the nuclear power plant.

*Note:  ”The Simpson” writers/producers really should contact me on further ideas for the show.

Who doesn’t like snowflake eyelashes when finished running - in winter - in MN - by Lake Pepin.  ”I feel pretty, oh so pretty!” I was so in love with myself.

So, status updates on Facebook is embarrassing for the States on Canada hosting the Olympics (i.e. opening ceremony.)  Yes, people do speak languages other than English.  YES, Canada really does have TWO national languages, so THAT is why we heard French as well.  Did ANY of you pay attention during geography and culture classes?  Wow.  I think I may have pissed off a lot of people, but it was worth it.  I’m really glad those people are friends of my friends, but then again, why would MY friends have friends like THAT?  This may be a matter of changing “playgrounds and playmates.”

Now, I could seriously digress (politically) on how Canada actually DOES and the US talks a whole lot - and we filibuster.  Leibermann, I will scream if you create this situation.  Don’t get me wrong, I am a VERY proud American, with a father who served this country, and I actually volunteer for the VA Medical Center.  So don’t call me “unpatriotic,”  I prefer the term, “sensical.”  Or, mildly socialist, if you will.

Anyway, I may try vinegar with my fries.  Thunder Bay, ON McDonald’s WATCH OUT. See you in June.

Okay, time for my Prozac.

If anyone in the great void would like to dialogue, you may contact me @ ElisabethGaustad@yahoo.com

Looking back on my impressionable days as a child, I ponder the devastation my parents’ profession had on me.  Teachers.  I know, I said “it.”   Teachers.  The true nature of this torture went beyond the threshold my senior year.

As luck would have it, my dad was the only AP Psychology teacher in all of the great land of Red Wing, MN.  Being the excellent student I was, naturally, I enrolled in the course. Nestled quietly in the comforts of the last row of the room, I lurched forth in absolute horror, followed by a hurried walk to the front of the classroom.

“Uh, Dad.  Your zipper is down.”  What in the hell?  It’s not like I WANTED to look or tell him that.  I was just SO, SO popular that it would have ruined my reputation and stuff.

Needless to say, my speech team and student council peers still don’t want to be friends with me.  Assholes.

I believe winter driving would be much more fun with bald tires.

Always a bridesmaid, never a bride.  Oooh, ha, wait… maybe there was the one time.

I would like some sleep, please.  Thank you very much.

I feel like I’m talking to myself.

Massive. Attack.  Uh-huh (Shit, I just added 1.5 more words, DAMN IT, I’m still adding more.)