AND IT IS ME.
So, feel free to stop by with plane tickets and a keg of beer with a straw in it. That would be gggrrrrreeeeeaaaaaattttttttt.
It snowed today and to my dismay, class was not cancelled. Ha, that was sort of rhyme-y. Anyway, yes...snow and still with the class and the test and the APPLYING FOR GRADUATION because, Hi!It's getting closer to being "that" time. I have mixed emotions about this.I am planning on going to graduate school for sure. I just don't know what "kind" of graduate degree I want. My father suggested I take the MCAT. I promptly informed him that he is INSANE but have started to consider it....I mean,....it wouldn't hurt just to seehow it goes..
It is entirely possible that I am too stupid to be a physician....er....probable.
Anyway, I will most definitly be slogging through the mire of at least a couple of Kaplan study books. I know, this is all so thrilling.
NotSoMuch.
In other news, Veronica Lario is highly entertaining.
Sunday, January 28, 2007
Saturday, January 27, 2007
To the left, to the left...
So, tonight I was trying to explain where a particular city was to a friend. Somehow, my twisted mental process tried informing said person that the city (which is east of where I live) is "to the left". Said person was (understandably) confused. I decided to draw an amateur sketch. This is it.
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
"Hate the Baby Syndrome", Coldness
I am not really a "fan" per say of winter. I fully realize that this is not a new revelation but one that has been covered in excruciating detail in previous posts. I'm not fired up about the whole global warming thing either....but that's another post for another day. Anyway, I would like to reiterate the fact that I? HATE HATE HATE THE COLD.
Personally, I think that this fear/hate/loathing is the direct result of a traumatic incident of my youth.
First, I should inform you that I am the oldest of four children. That means that I experienced not one, not two, but THREE episodes of "hate the baby" syndrome. The second-to-last episode was the worst. When my mother was expecting my baby sister (the last episode), my younger sister and I decided that we were not so much interested in another sibling as we were in a poodle. We begggged for a poodle. We NEEDED a poodle. Why? I do not know. I guess we've always been a little high maintenance.SO,we did not get a poodle. We got a sister. We called her Poodle. We still do. Anyway, we were pretty used to not being the centers of attention (I know, feel SORRY FOR US)so we just sort of dealt with it by pretending that she was not so much a "baby" as a "dog".
You see, when "the boy" was born there was a massive freak attack. In a family of five granddaughters and ONE grandson, being a girl is not so much something special as something that inspires fear and regret due to the immediate realization that shoes? are expensive. Make up? is expensive. Louis Vuitton? IS EXPENSIVE.
Anyway, when my brother was born it was all "Thank You Jesus" and everyone was collectively amazed because, Hi! a boy! SO, because no one wanted to watch our tap dance shows and have tea parties with us anymore, my sister and my cousins and I were stricken with the worst case of "hate the baby" yet.
Symptom included:
Whenever asked, "how is your little brother doing?" I would reply "we gave him away" or "he left" or "mom doesn't like him", my sister gradually caught on and even took it a step further to inform all inquisitive persons that my parents and my brother? DIED. They had not. This lead to some interesting conversations:
Adult: How are your mommy and daddy and new baby brother?
Caro: They died.
Adult: Ummm.....noooooo. They're at home, remember? You came with your grandma!
Caro: She died too.
Adult: You're an odd little person.
Caro: It's true, just ask my sister.
Adult: Now Lauren, please be a big girl and tell the truth.
Self: Yes ma'am. They are not dead, but we hate them all so they might as well be.
Adult: .....
That gets us to why, on one fateful day in January, my hatred for all things not warm began. I was fed up with being ignored and more than a little pissed that my mother would not stop cooking long enough to watch my autobiographical play entitled "Why I Hate My Family" (a cautionary tale of a young girl whose parents neglected her, refused to watch her roller skating shows, taste her Easy Bake Oven delicacies and had the audacity to ask her "can't you play that somewhere else?" so she ran away and joined a travelling circus and her family spent the rest of their lives searching everywhere for her because they felt SO COMPLETELY MISERABLE for ignoring her talents...shut up). The play starred Nibbles (our three legged dachshund) Caro (who played the part of "Anastasia" a.k.a. "ME") and assorted dolls, stuffed animals and a pillow with a belt and a hat that played the part of the ecstatic ring leader of the circus (he was ecstatic because he had NEVER found ANYONE with the kind of talent Anastasia possessed. Again, shut up.) SO, the stage was set. The actors were in place. I had positioned myself in the front "row", prepared to verbally disembowel anyone who fucked up my play and
......we waited
........and waited
Five minutes later (I've never been very patient) I stormed into the kitchen all, "EXcuse me MOTHER but you are MISSING my play!!!!!" to which my mom replied, "can't you practice a few more times? I'm cooking dinner and your brother needs to be fed and your dad had to stay late at work.."
All my little eight year old head herd was, "bla bla bla, you aren't worth my time"
Retaliation was swift.
I immediately stormed upstairs, put on my coat and hat, packed a few essential items in a bag (a Polly Pocket and my latest copy of Hi Lites magazine)and stormed out the front door yelling something subtle like "I AM RUNNING AWAY".
At the time, we were living on about one hundred acres. The front of the house faced a big field, the back faced some pretty thick woods. Guess which I picked.
After walking as far into the woods as I could get without crawling through underbrush, I sat down and proceeded to play with Polly Pocket.
And then, it started to snow. Not a little snow. A TRUCK LOAD of snow. Almost as if the heavens had opened up and articulated "Greetings O Bratty One! See what happens when you threaten your parents?" in the form of wet coldness.
I know, what the fuck? I imagine my eight year old self was thinking something along those lines, but less profane.
I live in ALABAMA. It is cold, yes......but snow?
This "snow" that I am referring to would later be known as the "Blizzard of '93". It took about a half of an inch falling from the sky to make me realize that my plan had been foiled by mother nature. I imagine my mental process went something like this:
"Snow? SNOW! I BET I DON'T HAVE TO GO TO SCHOOL TOMORROW. Which is....AWESOME. I hate stupid school and stupid Mrs. Chisolm and her STUPID "no no tree". I can't believe she made ME sign the dumb tree just because I wouldn't share my crayon with icky Christopher. I mean, Christopher! who is a BOY! and therefore is not capable of producing the type of artistic GOLD that I am only able to create WITH MY CRAYON."
****
"Ummm, this doesn't really look....ummm...familiar..."
****
"I have been WANDERING for HOURS (more like seconds) and SURELY I will freeze to DEATH in a SOLID BLOCK OF ICE LIKE BUGS BUNNY."
****
SO, I wandered in the blizzard for oh......minutes? The pathetic part is that I was so cold that I was crying. The snow was flying into my eyes so I had to pull my hat down over them and wander around bumping into trees until my little eyeballs were warm enough to see for a while. I made my way out of the woods and by the time I had gotten to the front door everything was covered by a blanket of snow. I ran inside to inform everyone that IT IS OK! I AM ALIVE. As you've probably guessed, my mom yelled from the kitchen that she would be in to see the play in a minute and could I please not scream like a banshee. Caro was still sitting on the "stage" playing with a Barbie. They never realized I had been gone. Anyway, ever since I have been petrified of freezing to death, in a solid block of ice a'la Bugs Bunny. Unfortunately, this little phobia has created a "problem" in the form of a power bill exceeding four hundred dollars.
Hope you're all staying warm!
Personally, I think that this fear/hate/loathing is the direct result of a traumatic incident of my youth.
First, I should inform you that I am the oldest of four children. That means that I experienced not one, not two, but THREE episodes of "hate the baby" syndrome. The second-to-last episode was the worst. When my mother was expecting my baby sister (the last episode), my younger sister and I decided that we were not so much interested in another sibling as we were in a poodle. We begggged for a poodle. We NEEDED a poodle. Why? I do not know. I guess we've always been a little high maintenance.SO,we did not get a poodle. We got a sister. We called her Poodle. We still do. Anyway, we were pretty used to not being the centers of attention (I know, feel SORRY FOR US)so we just sort of dealt with it by pretending that she was not so much a "baby" as a "dog".
You see, when "the boy" was born there was a massive freak attack. In a family of five granddaughters and ONE grandson, being a girl is not so much something special as something that inspires fear and regret due to the immediate realization that shoes? are expensive. Make up? is expensive. Louis Vuitton? IS EXPENSIVE.
Anyway, when my brother was born it was all "Thank You Jesus" and everyone was collectively amazed because, Hi! a boy! SO, because no one wanted to watch our tap dance shows and have tea parties with us anymore, my sister and my cousins and I were stricken with the worst case of "hate the baby" yet.
Symptom included:
Whenever asked, "how is your little brother doing?" I would reply "we gave him away" or "he left" or "mom doesn't like him", my sister gradually caught on and even took it a step further to inform all inquisitive persons that my parents and my brother? DIED. They had not. This lead to some interesting conversations:
Adult: How are your mommy and daddy and new baby brother?
Caro: They died.
Adult: Ummm.....noooooo. They're at home, remember? You came with your grandma!
Caro: She died too.
Adult: You're an odd little person.
Caro: It's true, just ask my sister.
Adult: Now Lauren, please be a big girl and tell the truth.
Self: Yes ma'am. They are not dead, but we hate them all so they might as well be.
Adult: .....
That gets us to why, on one fateful day in January, my hatred for all things not warm began. I was fed up with being ignored and more than a little pissed that my mother would not stop cooking long enough to watch my autobiographical play entitled "Why I Hate My Family" (a cautionary tale of a young girl whose parents neglected her, refused to watch her roller skating shows, taste her Easy Bake Oven delicacies and had the audacity to ask her "can't you play that somewhere else?" so she ran away and joined a travelling circus and her family spent the rest of their lives searching everywhere for her because they felt SO COMPLETELY MISERABLE for ignoring her talents...shut up). The play starred Nibbles (our three legged dachshund) Caro (who played the part of "Anastasia" a.k.a. "ME") and assorted dolls, stuffed animals and a pillow with a belt and a hat that played the part of the ecstatic ring leader of the circus (he was ecstatic because he had NEVER found ANYONE with the kind of talent Anastasia possessed. Again, shut up.) SO, the stage was set. The actors were in place. I had positioned myself in the front "row", prepared to verbally disembowel anyone who fucked up my play and
......we waited
........and waited
Five minutes later (I've never been very patient) I stormed into the kitchen all, "EXcuse me MOTHER but you are MISSING my play!!!!!" to which my mom replied, "can't you practice a few more times? I'm cooking dinner and your brother needs to be fed and your dad had to stay late at work.."
All my little eight year old head herd was, "bla bla bla, you aren't worth my time"
Retaliation was swift.
I immediately stormed upstairs, put on my coat and hat, packed a few essential items in a bag (a Polly Pocket and my latest copy of Hi Lites magazine)and stormed out the front door yelling something subtle like "I AM RUNNING AWAY".
At the time, we were living on about one hundred acres. The front of the house faced a big field, the back faced some pretty thick woods. Guess which I picked.
After walking as far into the woods as I could get without crawling through underbrush, I sat down and proceeded to play with Polly Pocket.
And then, it started to snow. Not a little snow. A TRUCK LOAD of snow. Almost as if the heavens had opened up and articulated "Greetings O Bratty One! See what happens when you threaten your parents?" in the form of wet coldness.
I know, what the fuck? I imagine my eight year old self was thinking something along those lines, but less profane.
I live in ALABAMA. It is cold, yes......but snow?
This "snow" that I am referring to would later be known as the "Blizzard of '93". It took about a half of an inch falling from the sky to make me realize that my plan had been foiled by mother nature. I imagine my mental process went something like this:
"Snow? SNOW! I BET I DON'T HAVE TO GO TO SCHOOL TOMORROW. Which is....AWESOME. I hate stupid school and stupid Mrs. Chisolm and her STUPID "no no tree". I can't believe she made ME sign the dumb tree just because I wouldn't share my crayon with icky Christopher. I mean, Christopher! who is a BOY! and therefore is not capable of producing the type of artistic GOLD that I am only able to create WITH MY CRAYON."
****
"Ummm, this doesn't really look....ummm...familiar..."
****
"I have been WANDERING for HOURS (more like seconds) and SURELY I will freeze to DEATH in a SOLID BLOCK OF ICE LIKE BUGS BUNNY."
****
SO, I wandered in the blizzard for oh......minutes? The pathetic part is that I was so cold that I was crying. The snow was flying into my eyes so I had to pull my hat down over them and wander around bumping into trees until my little eyeballs were warm enough to see for a while. I made my way out of the woods and by the time I had gotten to the front door everything was covered by a blanket of snow. I ran inside to inform everyone that IT IS OK! I AM ALIVE. As you've probably guessed, my mom yelled from the kitchen that she would be in to see the play in a minute and could I please not scream like a banshee. Caro was still sitting on the "stage" playing with a Barbie. They never realized I had been gone. Anyway, ever since I have been petrified of freezing to death, in a solid block of ice a'la Bugs Bunny. Unfortunately, this little phobia has created a "problem" in the form of a power bill exceeding four hundred dollars.
Hope you're all staying warm!
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
The Winter of Our Discontent
Mocha and I are freezing our asses off....collectively.
Coldness is not something that we enjoy. We are the kind of beings who like the warmth...ness. I guess I shouldn't bitch so much, I mean....what with global warming and melting iceburgs and all....who am I kidding? Fuck cold weather.
So, because it is cold and because my life consists of class and sleep and I really would like to spice that up, I have been cooking up a storm. Lasagna and cookies and bacon, oh my!
Unfortunaly, I have a feeling that the casseroles that are taking up space in my fridge will soon be taking up residence in the form of about ten pounds on my ass. Because: I. Can't. Stop. Eating.
Do ya'll ever do that? I mean, go through these phases where you cook and cook and cook and eat and eat and eat? It's like I'm the love child of Paula Deen and Brad Pitt's character from Oceans 11. So, freezing and cooking and eating. That is about it for the excitment over here.
Usually, I think about blog topics in the car on my forty hour commute to class and back every day. Admittadly, this is dangerous. My mind can wander into some pretty scary territory. Some topics that I have come up with lately have included:
corpses
husbands
Cartesian Dualism
beauty pagents
corn
Anyway, I think that it's pretty much safe to say that this is the worst post ever. I'm sorry. I promise that as soon as I stop eating and find a warm enough coat I WILL WRITE A BETTER POST!
Coldness is not something that we enjoy. We are the kind of beings who like the warmth...ness. I guess I shouldn't bitch so much, I mean....what with global warming and melting iceburgs and all....who am I kidding? Fuck cold weather.
So, because it is cold and because my life consists of class and sleep and I really would like to spice that up, I have been cooking up a storm. Lasagna and cookies and bacon, oh my!
Unfortunaly, I have a feeling that the casseroles that are taking up space in my fridge will soon be taking up residence in the form of about ten pounds on my ass. Because: I. Can't. Stop. Eating.
Do ya'll ever do that? I mean, go through these phases where you cook and cook and cook and eat and eat and eat? It's like I'm the love child of Paula Deen and Brad Pitt's character from Oceans 11. So, freezing and cooking and eating. That is about it for the excitment over here.
Usually, I think about blog topics in the car on my forty hour commute to class and back every day. Admittadly, this is dangerous. My mind can wander into some pretty scary territory. Some topics that I have come up with lately have included:
corpses
husbands
Cartesian Dualism
beauty pagents
corn
Anyway, I think that it's pretty much safe to say that this is the worst post ever. I'm sorry. I promise that as soon as I stop eating and find a warm enough coat I WILL WRITE A BETTER POST!
Friday, January 12, 2007
Update!
Just dropping on in to say that the anti-diet is going fabulously.... thanks to a Southern Living recipe for roasted chicken and some bananna pudding. Happy Weekend!!!
Thursday, January 11, 2007
Diet,Interrupted.
So, reading over the last few posts, I believe that one specific inference can be made. That inference being: I am well on my way to a nervous breakdown. OR....in the middle? of one? Yea, so... Hi!
Because my laptop is a piece of shit, you are unaware of the ridiculous and stupid and lame and dumb and DID I MENTION FUCKING RIDICULOUS diet that I am...er....was? on. That diet was: stop eating.Yea, sooooo, it wasn't really that bad. It was more like a fruit and vegetable diet where there were 1. no carbs and 2. no booze. For the past four days I have lived off of Diet Sundrop, oranges, tomatos, salad and bottled water and coffee.
Let me explain. New Years resolutions, people.Mine were: stop smoking, lose ten pounds, exercise more.
Betcha wondering how well THAT worked for me, aren't ya?
Let me first explain that as I am typing this, this very second, I have consumed:
1) one bottle of Pinot Noir
2) two bowls of pasta
3) seven red Starbursts
4) half of a pint of Ben & Jerry's New York Super Fudge Chunk ice cream
5) one Lean Cuisine
6) a half a pack of cigarettes
all in the span of about two hours.
Anyway, I tried. It didn't work. On the up side, eating and drinking and smoking makes me a much nicer person to be around.... so, yay that.
Soon there will be a positive, uplifting entry about...I dunno, bunnies or world peace or something. Until then, will someone please come over and pry this bag of Doritos out of my hand?
Because my laptop is a piece of shit, you are unaware of the ridiculous and stupid and lame and dumb and DID I MENTION FUCKING RIDICULOUS diet that I am...er....was? on. That diet was: stop eating.Yea, sooooo, it wasn't really that bad. It was more like a fruit and vegetable diet where there were 1. no carbs and 2. no booze. For the past four days I have lived off of Diet Sundrop, oranges, tomatos, salad and bottled water and coffee.
Let me explain. New Years resolutions, people.Mine were: stop smoking, lose ten pounds, exercise more.
Betcha wondering how well THAT worked for me, aren't ya?
Let me first explain that as I am typing this, this very second, I have consumed:
1) one bottle of Pinot Noir
2) two bowls of pasta
3) seven red Starbursts
4) half of a pint of Ben & Jerry's New York Super Fudge Chunk ice cream
5) one Lean Cuisine
6) a half a pack of cigarettes
all in the span of about two hours.
Anyway, I tried. It didn't work. On the up side, eating and drinking and smoking makes me a much nicer person to be around.... so, yay that.
Soon there will be a positive, uplifting entry about...I dunno, bunnies or world peace or something. Until then, will someone please come over and pry this bag of Doritos out of my hand?
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
Anger Managment.
So, I just spent...oh, I dunno, A WHOLE FUCKING HOUR on a post that just went away. I do not know where. WHERE DID YOU GO LITTLE POST?
Honestly, it is probably in your best interest. I started a diet and I am (as my mother would say) in Rare Form.
The lost post contained:
1. Two peices of hate mail addressed to two particularly irritating people that I came into contact with today.
2. The details of my diet.
3. Roughly four paragraphs of expletive laden whining.
I know you're upset that you're missing out on all of that. I promise, you'll live.
Honestly, it is probably in your best interest. I started a diet and I am (as my mother would say) in Rare Form.
The lost post contained:
1. Two peices of hate mail addressed to two particularly irritating people that I came into contact with today.
2. The details of my diet.
3. Roughly four paragraphs of expletive laden whining.
I know you're upset that you're missing out on all of that. I promise, you'll live.
Monday, January 08, 2007
School Anxiety
Hellllo Spring Semester. I hate you. Yes, you personally.
I am taking eighteen hours. Just typing that sentence makes me want to run for the liquor cabinet.
PEOPLE.
Eighteen mother fucking hours, and class starts today. The silver lining is that (unless I go to grad school) this will be the last spring semester ever! Ya-yuh!
I want a job in the Real World. Show me the money.
In other news: Mocha is being really clingy lately. I think it's because I left him at my parents a lot over the holidays. He's worried I'm going to run away and leave him. Bless his little heart. Not in this way but in a nice way because I love my little pup.
Also, new episode of Grey's Anatomy on Thursday so maybe this week won't totally suck.
Saturday, January 06, 2007
Humorless
Ya'll, today I had a revelation.
I am not funny.
I was on the phone with my aunt, who incidentally is totally freakin' hilarious, and we were talking about super powers and as usual she said something that made me want to fall on the floor and laugh hysterically until I died and I realized that...I? AM NOT FUNNY. SO that is the super power that I have decided I want to have. I mean, Aunt Sue makes up words like "squanch" and "coo-ma-cah-lie" and works them into sentences with "important" adult people who will actually reply seriously to a sentence like...
"excuse me but if I could just interrupt you for a minute. I'm sure you're presentation is very informative but if I could just squanch in before you and throw this coomacahlie up for everyone to see I think we would make a lot more progress."
I mean, what the fuck? Like, the writers for "Arrested Development". THEY were funny. Why come funny is not like a nose? EVERYONE HAS A NOSE. Why come EVERYONE can't have a little funny. PLEASE TELL ME.
I am not funny.
I was on the phone with my aunt, who incidentally is totally freakin' hilarious, and we were talking about super powers and as usual she said something that made me want to fall on the floor and laugh hysterically until I died and I realized that...I? AM NOT FUNNY. SO that is the super power that I have decided I want to have. I mean, Aunt Sue makes up words like "squanch" and "coo-ma-cah-lie" and works them into sentences with "important" adult people who will actually reply seriously to a sentence like...
"excuse me but if I could just interrupt you for a minute. I'm sure you're presentation is very informative but if I could just squanch in before you and throw this coomacahlie up for everyone to see I think we would make a lot more progress."
I mean, what the fuck? Like, the writers for "Arrested Development". THEY were funny. Why come funny is not like a nose? EVERYONE HAS A NOSE. Why come EVERYONE can't have a little funny. PLEASE TELL ME.
Friday, January 05, 2007
Stick A Fork in Her....
Class starts back on Monday.
Yucka fucka.
It isn't that I don't like learning, it isn't even that I passionately abhor the FORTY FIVE MINUTE commute EVERY DAY. Mainly, it's that I'm going to have to get off of my ass and Do Things. My holiday was really lovely. No one was forked to death.
I guess I should probably explain that. When I was thirteen years old my family decided it would be a fabulous idea to collectively embark on a ski vacation to Colorado. Grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, siblings....everyone. We all stayed in one super lovely and pretty and fabulous house. Then one night before dinner, my mother and my aunt got into a heated discussion over what to season the turkey with and it lead to MY AUNT PULLING A FORK OUT AND THREATENING TO STAB MY MOTHER. People, this was not acceptable. My grandmothers brain exploded by the intense UN-Southerness of her daughters behavior and my cousins and I promptly collapsed on the floor laughing hysterically at our mamma's acting like heathens. Anyway, we've always gauged the level of family tension by this handy dandy chart:
1. 'bout to get a fork: someone has been wronged to the point of inconvenience and/or mild discomfort. Retaliatory measures include: ignoring requests to pass something (i.e. question: Aunt Bessie, will you please pass the grits? answer: Why Michael, what a lovely tie you're wearing. Did you hear something just now? Because I DID NOT.), a snide remark being made to the entire family regarding perpetrating family member, or "accidentally" tipping the gravy boat into the lap of the wrong doer.
2.....now that I think about it, there's only the one. Either you're about to get forked or you're getting forked. The latter has not happened to date. The former is a relatively daily occurrence.
How did I get off on all of that? Anyway, so yes it has been a really good holiday. I was in Charleston, South Carolina for the New Year and it was so much fun. Charleston is a really beautiful place. Y'all should go.PLUS it was like seventy five degrees the whole trip!
Because I have been in Charleston for the New Year and at my parents house for Christmas, my poor little house is rather in need of a good scrub down. That will commence in about four seconds. So, if you need me I will be up to my eyeballs in cleaning supplies. Whoo hoo.
Yucka fucka.
It isn't that I don't like learning, it isn't even that I passionately abhor the FORTY FIVE MINUTE commute EVERY DAY. Mainly, it's that I'm going to have to get off of my ass and Do Things. My holiday was really lovely. No one was forked to death.
I guess I should probably explain that. When I was thirteen years old my family decided it would be a fabulous idea to collectively embark on a ski vacation to Colorado. Grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, siblings....everyone. We all stayed in one super lovely and pretty and fabulous house. Then one night before dinner, my mother and my aunt got into a heated discussion over what to season the turkey with and it lead to MY AUNT PULLING A FORK OUT AND THREATENING TO STAB MY MOTHER. People, this was not acceptable. My grandmothers brain exploded by the intense UN-Southerness of her daughters behavior and my cousins and I promptly collapsed on the floor laughing hysterically at our mamma's acting like heathens. Anyway, we've always gauged the level of family tension by this handy dandy chart:
1. 'bout to get a fork: someone has been wronged to the point of inconvenience and/or mild discomfort. Retaliatory measures include: ignoring requests to pass something (i.e. question: Aunt Bessie, will you please pass the grits? answer: Why Michael, what a lovely tie you're wearing. Did you hear something just now? Because I DID NOT.), a snide remark being made to the entire family regarding perpetrating family member, or "accidentally" tipping the gravy boat into the lap of the wrong doer.
2.....now that I think about it, there's only the one. Either you're about to get forked or you're getting forked. The latter has not happened to date. The former is a relatively daily occurrence.
How did I get off on all of that? Anyway, so yes it has been a really good holiday. I was in Charleston, South Carolina for the New Year and it was so much fun. Charleston is a really beautiful place. Y'all should go.PLUS it was like seventy five degrees the whole trip!
Because I have been in Charleston for the New Year and at my parents house for Christmas, my poor little house is rather in need of a good scrub down. That will commence in about four seconds. So, if you need me I will be up to my eyeballs in cleaning supplies. Whoo hoo.
Wednesday, January 03, 2007
Place Holdin' Fun
I have decided to stop smoking. I am finding this to be an incredibly difficult task, mainly because I heart cigarettes. They are lovely little cancer causing sticks of joy that can no longer be a part of my life. I must persevere. In other news: I went to Charleston for New Years. It was fab five Freddie. More will come on that later. So, consider this a nice little place holder.
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