I simply stop and think about what a stupid sentiment that is.
(note to self: you could be the reason behind your children's over use of the word "stupid".)
I am sometimes serious and sometimes silly--
end of story.
I'm the one who forgets this, so I should just remind myself more.
whatever.
I met my friend, J., for a workout tonight and it was KILLER.
In both the good and bad ways.
Intense workout, good conversation.
How can you beat THAT?
(Nope, don't even try. You CAN'T.)
Ok, so I'm a little distracted.
I bought something this weekend...
"P0rn" I call it.
"The Bo Bice CD" is a slightly more accurate term, but potaytoes, potahtoes, ya know?
I knew it wouldn't be great, musically, but I was still disappointed.
That man's voice is so gorgeous that I don't want to trivialize it by slapping some lame adjectives, adverbs and emphasis-adding "fuck"s.
But they didn't even let him use it.
He sings a whole list of crappy, love-infused POP tunes.
POP.
...(tunes).
What the fuck is that all about??
No, really, tell me, because I would LIKE to know.
Oh yeah: it's called marketing.
It's a crazy little thing called "it's his first album and he probably had 0-3% input/creative control."
I'll forgive him.
So.
I guess I'll have to just pin up the full color
glossy
creased-from-being-folded-up
(tragically fully clothed)
centerfold
of him and call it money WELL spent.
Damn, Bo, would you stop looking at me with those bedroom eyes?
I have THINGS to do.
Homework, even.
I am not kidding--
and I will swear it puclicly, here and now:
if that man showed up on my doorstep and offered me a ride, sunset-ward?
I would go in a--
wait.
I wouldn't.
It's funny to joke about, but color me PMSed or something cuz that makes me a little sad!
I wouldn't want to leave my loving, devoted, sweet husband for anyone.
(but maybe a good 12 hours in a cheap hotel would work out ok!)
My class today was English 2600, which is a Literary Criticism course.
It is to teach us to be better critical readers.
I've been dreading it in some ways,
as that is my least favorite part of this whole "English major" business.
I looove to read.
And...
as you MAY have noticed...
I kinda have a hard-on for writing.
But I reallyFUCKINhate disecting the hell out of things I read.
I would rather just feel it, absorb it, and move on.
Eh.
Whatever.
This professor seems like a really cool woman (she dropped a couple of "oh my god"s which means she's not mormon--GLORY GLORY HALLELUJAH!)
There was also a kid with a faux-hawk (sides-unshaven, but with a tall crest)
which makes me weak in the knees.
Not sure why.
I guess it's the rebel thing.
It's a pretty small class, and it's all English majors.
so.
And the good news is, if I'm on time, there is plenty of parking in the big lot closest to my building.
A Health building, oddly enough.
Right next to the pool where the swimmers/divers train.
So now, you all can stalk me.
Or stock me.
Or sock me.
Or...ok, I'm done.
OH!!
And some guy called about my car tonight.
He's coming to look at it tomorrow...
Do you KNOW how frigging great it would be if he bought it?
Oh...
MY....
GAWD.
yes, this is the first call we've gotten.
I think the ad expires tomorrow.
Blah.
Holidays are a stupid time to list a car, probably.
Oh well.
please oh please oh please...
if there is a god, or a santa claus--
or if Mr. Hanky is REAL!
Let him buy it.
if not, I'll just renew the ad, but that would take EFFORT.
Ok, enough of that.
I'm beginning to lose my endorphin high and I still have things to do.
yes, that homework ain't gonna do itself.
sorry, just making fun of a shirt I saw at a bar once--on a real live MAN.
"It ain't gonna lick itself." was what the shirt proclaimed.
Nope, it sure ain't, bubba.
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