I am so tired. Soooooo tired. I�m working again, after all, and following a three-month restful hiatus, plunging face-first into the rat race is not an easy transition. Especially when your first work week is EIGHT DAYS LONG. Eight, people. EIGHT days. It�s Day Seven now, and I�ve already completely lost my grip on reality. I�d been doing really well for the last six months, as far as my physical health was concerned; I�d forsaken all caffeine other than my IMPERATIVE morning cup of green tea (loaded with anti-oxidants and Ancient Mysteries Of The Orient!), and today alone I�ve had green tea, two Diet Cokes, and a mocha. A mocha! The part of me that still even remembers what a human body is supposed to feel like from the inside has long since forgotten why.
If I make it to this weekend, I�m going to have like forty-seven hours of TV to catch up on. Passions is now on twice a day (although fortunately I can still FF through all of Sheridan�s scenes, because zzzzzz�), I�ve got my usual prime time viewing, AND we�ve got international drama on NBC! That doesn�t involve murders and embassy-torchings! Yet. I�ve hardly seen ANY of the Olympics, though, y�all. I saw that pairs� figure-skating short program thing where Somebody Inoue and Michael Bolton made history by something something toe loop, and I watched a LOT of women�s snowboarding. Given that my inexperience with the ladies is surpassed only by my inexperience with snowboarding, this is an event I can�t really relate to very well. The announcer is all, �Did you see that? She did a goofy-footed Portuguese 520 rack-and-pinion barrel-roll with an eight-point buck!� or something, and the only word I understand in that whole thing is �with�. It all sounds like a Dennis Miller monologue to me.
In the meantime, our Vice President is taking out his aggressions by scatter-shooting old men in the face with, like, ball-bearings or some such. Why isn�t that an Olympic event? I realize it isn�t very funny to the old man, his family, or the surgeons now tasked with removing migratory birdshot from his heart, but the way that White House Press Secretary Scott McClellan is stumbling through his spin-control (to the tune of �accidents happen� and �he shouldn�t have had his face in the way in the first place�), the situation really just screams for inappropriate jokes to be made at Dick Cheney�s expense. Jokes like: Guns don�t kill people � idiots with guns kill people! Guns and bad aim. And also possibly? Beer.
I lost another pair of sunglasses, you guys. I don�t even know where that leaves me, except squinting painfully as I drive to work every morning. Fortunately, I head west for half of my commute, but the south-facing part of the drive�my left retina is all bleached out, and I think I have a sunburn on that side of my face, like Richard Dreyfus in Close Encounters of the Third Kind. I bought this last pair of sunglasses to replace the pair I bought AND THEN LOST ON THE SAME DAY, which I bought to replace the pair that I bought and really, really, really liked because they were perfect and looked good and were on sale for $5.99 � and I know you�re going to tell me you can�t get quality ANYTHING for $5.99, and okay, you�re totally right, these weren�t �quality�, but they were functional and more importantly affordable � and now I think if I saw how much I�ve spent on sunglasses over the years, I�d probably have a heart attack of my own. Probably enough for at least one really, really good pair of �quality� sunglasses. Which I would then lose and/or sit on.
Are you guys proud of me for updating a second time this week? I finally have a job that allows me just enough wiggle room to effect semi-regular blog updation! And now I must get back to it.
Today�s Trivia Factoid Is: There are four cars and eleven lightposts on the back of a ten-dollar bill. I�m Watching: Project Runway, but don�t tell me how last night�s episode ends, because I won�t get to see it until probably Saturday morning. And: Not Lost, because a) it�s kind of lame this season, and b) I forgot to tape it last night.