Things that don't suck.

1. Thai food. In vast quantities.

2. A steaming hot cup of Seattle crack coffee.

3. A steaming hot Seattle super crack double Americano.

4. Drinking #2 and #3 this morning, and then eating #1 with your childhood best friend (Hi Heidi!) and her parents (Hi Julie! Hi Dale!) who are in town for the week. Fun times! Nothing beats reuniting with special people from your childhood, while taking a 2-hour extended lunch break in the process. Except maybe the Salty's brunch buffet. Oh, am I still talking about that goddamned buffet? ...Yes. Yes I am.

5. The Artist Formerly Known as The-Artist-Formerly-Known-as-Prince's "When Doves Cry." A perennially non-sucky song. Except I was listening to it today, and it got to the part where Prince is all:

"This is what it sounds like when doves cry.....yiiii! Yiiiii-eeeeeaaa-ooooohwohwoh!"

and then later on he's like:

"This is what it sounds like when doves cry.....ah huh oh yeah... Oh huh oh yeah..."

and then things get really weird at the end when he goes:

"This is what it sounds like when doves cry.....Aiii! Aiiiii!! AIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIAI!!!"

And then I started thinking: Wouldn't it be freaky if that actually is what it sounded like when doves cry? I mean, you go and get yourself some pet doves because they're all pretty and peaceful and stuff, and then next thing you know you're waking up suddenly in the middle of the night to the sounds of crazed shrieking and funky vocal runs, and you're like, "Damn it, those f*ing doves are crying again." Not that I'd want pet doves anyway. Birds are mean. So I guess the moral of the story is:

Things that suck (continued):

5. Pet doves.

And while I'm on that subject:

Things that suck, but only a little bit:

1. Drinking #2 and #3, and then eating #1, and feeling the after effects of said actions in your bowels. Especially since, according to Scott, girls don't poop. Oh, really? Because I've got a gurgling in my stomach that's telling me otherwise. I better get on home before the non-pooping takes place. Office toilet-time, unless they are number 1, are strictly forbidden in my universe.

Ok, off to beat the traffic! What am I still doing here at 5pm? Shouldn't I be in my sweats sitting on my couch watching Gilmore Girls reruns by now?