On the way to work today, I passed a girl who looked like Heather Small from MPeople. You know, all Africanized bouffant to the sky? Loves it.
Whenever I remember that I ever used non-bank ATMs, I cringe in horror, shock, and disgust. A $2.50 service fee plus "any fees your bank may charge"? Not on my watch, Vivica Rose. Better to trot your ass on down to the Walgreens and buy a pack of chewing gum or a cupholder, and get some cash back STAT.
I have the urge to watch this episode of "Jem and the Holograms" where Stormy's diary is stolen by the Misfits, and her secret thoughts about her friends are revealed. And as sweet revenge, she writes a song called "Dear Diary" that somehow makes it alright in the end:
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