by the way, they mate for life

today started with a rude awakening by my father. no, literally, i woke up to him yelling at me.

"ARE YOU GOING TO SLEEP ALL DAY?"

news flash, it's 6:45 am. i went to bed at 1. i don't have anywhere to be today. can a girl get some beauty sleep?

despite many attempts at ignoring the incessant yelling, i finally answered (quite eloquently) with a barely audible, "mmmmmuuuuhhhh..."

after splashing some water on my face and gargling with mouth wash (i forgot my tooth brush at school... so sue me), i made my way downstairs to see what all the ruckus was about. "goooood MOOOORNING PRECIOUS!!" my dad sings. "can you run an errand for me before you go back to school?" i agree and start off toward my task. all seems fine until the last leg of my journey, when i enter the freeway and notice two birds in the middle of my lane. of course, birds always get away from cars at the last minute, so i slowed down and assumed they would fly far, far away and continue about their birdly business.

wrong.

oh so very, very wrong.

before they could both take off, one of them flew straight into my windshield. BAM. blood and feathers suddenly stream across the driver's side of the glass, forming slow rivers of bird DNA that no amount of windshield cleaning solution will clean. i keep driving, unable to comprehend what just happened. either this bird died right in front of my eyes or it sustained massive injuries but made a swift recovery and joined its fellow flying friend.

how i wish the latter was plausible.

i then had an hour and a half to stare through the bird remains at the cars ahead of me before i reached my school. nausea and disbelief came in waves, followed by disgust and distress. and even though i am atheist and not particularly spiritual, i took a moment to apologize to the bird and wish it a peaceful afterlife.

it took a few hours for the overall nausea to subside. i have come to terms with the fact that this incident was an accident, but i keep reliving the moment when that poor bird hit the windshield. needless to say, i will keep this bird in mind every time i see roadkill.

rest in peace, oh feathery flying one.

cosmo: knowledge is power

during a recent trip to my neighborhood 7-11, i picked up the latest cosmopolitan magazine. this issue featured the ever-pregnant heidi klum during one of the off months that she did not have a bun in the oven.

as is my routine with a new magazine, i first had a quick look at the ads and headlines of articles. next, i go over the magazine a second time and start to read the first paragraph of the articles with the more interesting titles. finally, when i have hours to spare, i make my third and final round through the sexy woman's magazine.

this time, i start to take in all of the information that is presented (much of which i have read time and time again from past issues). how to wear this top, why not to wear skinny jeans, how to get him to drop his pants at the drop of a hat... all these helpful life lessons and more reside within the hallowed pages of cosmo. and, as usual, i find myself doubting that if i don this certain dress with that special bra, that particular boy will instantly ask for my number and want to marry me.

don't get me wrong -- i absolutely love cosmo. every time i see those glossy covers with the beautiful stars of hollywood in my local grocery stores, i cannot help but fork over the six-odd dollars that will allow me to leave with a new magazine (legally). i love the ads, the articles, the pictures, the sample perfumes... i even find a certain satisfaction in ripping the numerous subscription sheets from in between pages. finally, i love ripping my favorite advice pages and ads from the magazine and pasting them wherever i have free space on my bedroom walls. the addition of new pictures on my walls never fails to excite me (which is why i have continued to decorate my room even though i will have to move out in approximately six days).

but reading all of the explicit tips on how to blow your man's mind always leaves me puzzled. how am i supposed to employ these man-snatching tactics when i can barely read the articles without blushing?

maybe i'm not meant to follow cosmo's advice exactly. maybe there are other women out there who feel that not wearing underwear under a short skirt is asking for trouble. but i am still plagued by the thought that maybe some cosmo-reading girls actually do lead these crazy and borderline overly sexy lives. maybe some girls do take this advice to heart and put vaseline on their nipples in order to achieve a perfect self tan on their chests. maybe other girls use lines like, "hey i'm sexy and that's why you should let me bypass the line into this club!" surely this type of girl exists and has treated cosmo like it is described in legally blonde -- "the bible."

but the worst thing? i wish i had the balls to be a cosmo girl.

so bad.