Remember those old Mentos commercials that always showed some person experiencing a mishap at the most inopportune time--and then, when it appears that all is lost, the guy pops a Mentos into his mouth and suddenly has an epiphany on how to solve the problem? Of course you do. They're classics!

...They're also extremely antiquated. I haven't seen a Mentos commercial that wasn't filmed in the 90's--which is pretty sad considering how much more can be milked out of that tired ass Mentos-saves-the-day formula. Did the commercial writers think that society only suffers from broken high heels, getting ditched by your friends at a crosswalk, or not being able to sneak backstage at a rock concert? Well, they're wrong! And to prove just how wrong they are, I came up with my own Mentos commercial that is both modern and hip-and-with-it!

It doesn't matter what comes, fresh goes better in life, and Mentos is fresh and full of life.

Nothing gets to you...

...staying fresh staying cool, with Mentos, fresh and full of life.  

Fresh goes better, Mentos freshness, fresh goes better with Mentos, fresh and full of life!  

Mentos, the period-stain-patterned-dress fresh maker!

I totally did this entry just so I could say "doo doo."

I learned something fairly interesting this past weekend: some people at my law school have been passing rumors about me being some kind of ho. I couldn't believe it: people actually know I exist?! That's amazing! No, it really is because I only have classes 3 days a week; I’m not in any student organizations; and I don’t go to school events. I am so unnoticeable that people have actually gone entire semesters without realizing I was even in their class. But I suppose that's expected since I tend to keep to myself whenever I'm at school--hence why after 3 years I've only made 4 or 5 friends (might have something to do with my "frigid b*tch" look--but I can't help that it's my normal face!).  

Thus, there is no reason why I should have any reputation—but I do, and I have a theory why: I am too boring to actually be boring. It’s kind of like how some people react when they see happy couples: they’re too happy to actually be happy, and therefore they must be hiding some major drama. Similarly, my boringness is so extreme that it must be a façade I use to mask my true nature: ho-bag.

Naturally, I can’t help but feel a little irritated that some people think I'm slutty. I mean, come on now! That is so bland! I waited an insanely long time for my name to get into the rumor mill, and when I finally make it my reward is the completely unoriginal skank label? That sh*t is totally unacceptable!

I'm definitely not going to allow being relegated to a second-class citizen because I know I deserve way better than what I'm getting. Therefore! I will take matters into my own hands by infiltrating the gossip monger circles and planting juicy tidbits about myself. None of this sissy "she's a ho/slut/skank" bullsh*t! That stuff is for amateurs!

If people are going to gossip about me, it better be worth hearing. So my goal is to make sure that when anyone mentions my name, it is in regards to one of the following rumors:

I poop live abalone (which makes me the obvious key to world hunger).

Dane Cook’s sense of humor is hidden in my anus.

I had an orgy with the entire Xanga Team, Dikembe Mutombo, and an ear of corn.

By day I am a law school student; by night I am Chuck Norris.

I hold the world record for deadliest ass gas.

The guy who played Mr. Belvedere is not dead; I actually ate him (which I guess means he’s dead).

I am John’s secret love child.

Anything less and I will start beating some ass with my fist--and I mean the one hidden under my beard. Yeah, I'm that serious.

I have to confess something to you all. Although I've been portraying myself as a 26 year-old woman, the truth is I am a 62 year-old dude. There, I've said it. I am actually a man. I have an atom's apple, a huge dong, and a pair of tentacles. I am totally manly.

That was supposed to be my April Fool’s joke, but I couldn't post because I went blind after seeing pictures of that disgusting FIA president playing with his hookers. And let me tell you: I have never once, in my entire life, ever regretted being born...but I do now that I know what wrinkly, old man ass crack looks like in a thong. Acid! Where is my acid?! I must soothe my eyes!

I chose the "I'm a dude" joke because I know that some people would have believed it regardless of my purposeful malapropisms. For some reason, out of all the questions I have been asked on Xanga, the one that comes up most is "you're not really a girl, right?" The second most common question is "you're really a man, huh?"

Not sure how most girls would react when strangers inquire about the existence of their vaginas, but I love being asked because it gives me the opportunity to say “va-jay-jay” and “hey-naner-naner.” I don't care what anyone says: if you get the chance to say those phrases without looking like a wart bag turd, you take it. (I should totally write fortune cookies.)

However, I'm becoming increasingly curious as to how you can determine someone's gender based on the text in their blogs. Being that I am the spokesperson for my fallopian tubes, ovaries, and uterus, I thought everything that came out of my mouth was unquestionably feminine. Seriously, what's more girly than telling you that a woman's period smells like a seafood buffet? And that yeast infections are insanely itchy and smell like death?

Unfortunately, this vast knowledge is not enough to prove I've got taco, so I did some research into what makes a blog "girly"--but by "research" I mean that I asked other people to find out for me (I'm not going to read them on my own, are you kidding me?! Those posts are chock full of gibberish like "whatevs" and "lates"!). They listed several characteristics, but the most common ones were: relationship problems, dieting, and fashion...coincidentally, the most wer-wer topics in the universe.

I'm definitely not above discussing those things, but I would rather stab myself in the eye with a rusty nail than write about them. 

With relationship problems, I am not someone who finds solace in typing them out. In fact, I actually end up feeling worse because I'll have thought about the issues multiple times in order to reduce them to text. And I don't want to relive the time I kicked some guy's ass with a cactus because he beat me in "Bust A Move." It was my favorite plant! *cry*

As far as dieting and fashion are concerned: I eat junk food and live in my sleep clothes, the end. What is that? Like a Mini-Pulse? It's not worth the two seconds it takes to read it.

Is there anything else that makes a girly blog? Because so far it's looking like the only thing I can rely on is my profile picture.