I don't know how people write anything with music playing in the background. I just can't do it. I've tried! But after a little while, I'm overcome with the urge to stop and rock out instead. Music is distracting like that.

Or even worse, I'll start incorporating lyrics into my musings. And it'll go something like, "It was a great day today. A nice day. A nice day for a....white wedding. It's a nice day to...start agaaaaain...."

Am I the only one with this problem?

I've decided the other day that I don't want to be part of a society that thinks fruit scented hygiene products are a good thing.

I bought this wonderful shampoo that smells and looks a lot like honey. Every morning in the shower, bleary with sleep, I have to forcibly stop myself from ingesting it instead of putting it in my hair.

So now when I see actual honey, instead of spooning it into my tea, I've conditioned myself to say, "No" and instead have the compulsion to rub it on my head.

Also, I have this great apple scented deodorant. I adore it. I don't know why it's such a good feeling to have your underarms smell like an apple orchard, but it just is. I want to take a big 'ol bite out of that deodorant every day. I can't even imagine the awful case of dry mouth that would give me.

So I got to work the other day, and realized I'd forgotten to apply deodorant. Hey, sometimes it happens. But then I spied an apple, and abstractedly thought to myself, "Y'know, I could just stick a few pieces in my armpit and I bet that would do the trick..."

Do you hear that? I wanted to put an apple in my armpit. That just isn't right.

These fruity smelling products are screwing with my senses, I'm telling you. They're teaching me to rub fruit on my body instead of eating it like normal folk. They're ruining the entire fruit experience for me.

Either that or I'm regressing back to prehistoric monkey life. I'm not quite sure.

They say that opposites attract, and it makes sense to me. But do opposites last? No one ever says much about that.

In other news, I've finally gotten a job that I actually enjoy. I'm now a waitress at a tiny bar that tries desperately to pretend it's an Irish pub. We have tons of imported beer, wooden furniture, dim lighting and men without teeth, but the music station we have it turned to plays a whole lot of Avril Lavigne and occasionally Metallica. And everywhere you look, there's a giant t.v. set showing some kind of sport. It really ruins the Irish experience to be drinking your Guinness while rowdy college students behind you are booing loudly at a basketball game and Enter Sandman is screaming in your ears.

But the job itself is a lot of fun, except for the ridiculous outfit I have to wear: A mini-skirt kilt and knee-highs. I look like an Irish hooker.

And if I hear, "Hey baby, what'cho got on under that kilt?" from a leering old man ONE MORE TIME I swear I'll smack him.

Yes, like I'm actually going to tell you about my undergarments, you greasy old pervert. Please. Give me some credit.

I don't understand men. If they have such a hard time picking up girls their own age when they're young and virile, how can they possibly think they will have any luck with girls now that they're old, flabby, and smell like dead skin?

It just doesn't make any sense to me.

But I guess life is like that, right?