Ever seen a guy sitting around watching TV in his natural habitat ( the couch of his dirty apartment) without his hands in his pants? If you have, consider yourself lucky. You've just spotted an endangered species. I don't care if it's a habit or you just like it in your pants because "it's warm". It's awkward. As for the rest of you, stop picking your nose! Don't think I didn't see you. I'm on to all of you.

Let's just make it known now that I'm absolutely disgustingly loaded. Each one of my professors will be like, "you need to buy this textbook for $150." Then I'll be all, "sure, especially if I can sell it back at the end of the semester for less than 10 percent of that. That seems like a great investment considering I'll probably open it less than twice before finals week. I mean, I do have money coming out my ass and all. I'm not a broke college kid living off cafeteria food and Ramen noodles or anything."

This is a little embarrassing, but I'm absolutely freaked out by ketchup. I hate everything about it. The smell, the consistency, the nasty noise it makes when it comes out of the bottle, everything. I've never tried it in my life and never will. I wince every time I'm around it and I ask friends to move it so I can't see it on the table. One time when I was younger, my sister held me hostage by rubbing it all over my seatbelt. I'm certain it will scorn my skin instantly.

Combine all the reality shows, the trashier the better. Shove a bunch of wannabe celebrities and skanks in a house with a few single washed up celebrities. They need to find "love", compete in outrageously degrading challenges, take great modeling shots, become a ninja warrior, or risk being voted off by America and face the wrath of heartless judges. In the end, they get to find out they don't win anything and it was all a hoax. It will be hosted by my dog. She's great. A little stinky, but great.

Think you can trick me into saying something that makes me look conceited, shallow, or self-conscious? You're wrong, kid.

No, I'm way too good at being bad. However, I was present when my friend received a citation for urinating in a public area. It was a little scary, but he was only fined $15. Think about that next time you're in a really long bathroom line.

I don't really like thinking about that sort of thing. Perhaps "Solace was wise beyond her 289 years. This crazy fool right here lived ever second of her life to the fullest."

I don't like my name at all. Every time I introduce myself people say "what??" at least four times, which is always followed by "Oh, that's interesting," "Oh, Phyllis? That's my great aunt's name," or "no really, what's your name?" I like being unique, but not much else about my name. I'm currently working on having just one name because it's so strange and uncommom, but Madonna is trying to take credit for my idea and it's cramping my style.

Once I told my guy friend he had great eyelashes and I asked him if I could put makeup on him. He semi-reluctantly agreed, but when I was about to put the mascara on him he tore the brush out of my hand to do it himself. He claimed it was because he thought I'd poke him in the eye, but he seemed a little too good at putting on mascara for me to believe him. I won't mention any names.

Two of my friends want to join you tonight too. Is that good for you?