Knock Knock--

who's there?
go fuck yourself.

har.
sorry, it's just that it got such a warm reaction yesterday, that I had to try it again...
although, that implies it was a first--
au contraire, mes freres...
check the archives.
sometimes I say it everyday.
yeah, that's right.
I'm a badass mutha fucka.
or something.

so...
Tommy Lee goes to College?
greatest.
reality show.
EVER.
(period.)
besides the fact that he's so hot I got a sunburn just from watching his show,
and has a cock to be envied by horses,
um...where was I?
dunno, but the point is: yum.
oh, and I'm not the only one!
the Chancellor's secretary, who was at least 60, shares my opinion.
("...my first impression of him was that he is, um...very handsome, to be honest.")
well, I don't know how she feels about his cock, but I'm sure there will be an uncesored version of this show, and she'll give it an enthusiastic 2 thumbs up....
anywho.
I was saying besides the eye-candy factor, the show has some great comedic potential.
AND.
I think they should do a reality show of ME.
The Boredhousewife Goes to College!!
it's going to be almost as funny as a 40-year-old rock star...
and I'll be even more out of place!
hah.
nah, not in Utah.
I'm sure most of my other classmates will have children, too.

drywall goes up in the basement tomorrow.
everything is looking good so far.

Isolation...
like a deaf and blind woman standing in the middle of a sidewalk during rush hour in a big city...
I feel the world moving around me--
smell it, even.
but I am not a part of it.
It does not pass through me.
alone.
solitude amid the throngs,
makes me crumble.
wishing he had more to give--
more self to lend, more heart to be engulfed by.
to curl up and sob,
or stand up and shout?
neither.
press onward.
refusing to be ignored is hard to pull off, without a tantrum.
deep breaths.

what happened to me?
where did I go?
I think the waves of him have crashed over me for so long, that my sharp edges, my definitions of self have been worn smooth--
a prettier stone I am now, seaglass, perhaps...
and much, much stronger than that girl I was.
Thirty is not old at all.
stop thinking about everything.

today felt like Thursday,
but yesterday felt like Friday...
and so.
I forgot braless tuesday.
wasn't really in the mood anyway.

I'm sleepy.

I don't believe in the delete key,
so you get the mish-mash, barely-coherant post...
sorry darlings.
maybe I'll drink coffee in the morning and you'll get a better post.
maybe not.
oh, I think I found the culprit:
I'm listening to my classical music playlist on the ole i(mposter)pod.
fucking mozart.
quit making me smarter, dammit!!!!

sleep tight.
or loose.
...whichever.