I got one of those phone calls from my mother last night. You know the ones. Everybody at one time or another has had a phone call from their mother that begins with some variation on, "Why didn�t you call me the other day when you said you were going to?" and quickly devolves into a series of hair-trigger guilt trips and misunderstandings. I mean, I love my mother, but my brain is tired, so please stop calling me in the middle of my TV shows so that we can play Whose Fault Is It Anyway?
But leave us discuss this no further! Let�s talk a little bit about the lingering damage done to my workstation by Tuesday�s providential power outage. I mean, in some ways it was great -- like, who can�t appreciate a Snow Day? But for some reason, the electrical glitch caused a malfunction in the system that in some way led to something something printer. I honestly don�t know what the hell happened, because I don�t really speak technical-ese, but I basically can�t use the good printer, and instead have to print everything out on this piece-o�-crap dot matrix number squatting on the desk to my left, here.
And now let�s stop talking about that. I have to work out today, and I frankly don�t have any desire to do so. It�s not an aggressive non-desire -- like, for example, I aggressively do not want to make out with Paris Hilton -- but it�s more of a passive non-desire. Because, to be honest, I just don�t have the energy to be aggressive right now. Which is also, coincidentally, the very reason I don�t want to work out tonight. But I know I have to, and I know I�m going to, and I�m going to hate myself for it, because I�m going to be playing both the part of Teenage Me who was all, "Don�t you tell me what to do, buster, because I�ll do whatever I want! And what I want is to NOT WORK OUT!" and I�ll be playing the part of My Father who was all, "You know, I�m not asking you to do it for me, I�m asking you to do it for you. And think how much you�re future self is going to thank your present self for doing this right now!" And that sounds totally new-age self-help cultist, but damn if it isn�t true. And ultimately responsible. I hate responsibility. But not aggressively.
I guess it doesn�t take a lot of energy to kind of hate Paris Hilton, because I still have that going on. I just don�t understand why people keep letting her be famous! I mean, I don�t think of fame as being an award that you can "earn" or that you "deserve", but seriously, you guys, if we all just agree to ignore Paris Hilton? I bet she�d go away. Actually, I wouldn�t be surprised if she just shriveled up and died altogether. Just from looking at her, you can kind of tell that she�s surviving on a diet of attention and photo opportunities. I mean, she�s clearly not actually eating anything, that�s for sure.
Is she attractive? I mean, I know I kind of like boys and that makes my personal taste in women kind of unimportant (or so I�ve been told), but seriously�is she attractive? Aside from wearing things you could hardly classify as actual "clothes", she doesn�t strike me as being particularly sexy. Really, she looks pretty anemic, I'd say. And rather than "Pouty", which is what I think she�s aiming for with her Camera Face, I think she�s hitting a lot closer to "Queasy" or "What�s that smell? Is that cabbage? I don't like cabbage, y'all. Cabbage has calories." Admittedly I don�t really know from sexy women (necessarily -- I mean, I know what I think makes for a sexy woman, but�who asked me?), but I do know from cabbage, and cabbage? Not. Sexy.
Anyway, this entry really started out in a much different place than where it ended, but I�m okay with that. I like where it�s ended. So I leave you with this advice: Just say no to Paris Hilton, y�all. I promise we�ll all be a lot better off.
Someone Got Here By Searching For: "single in la" I�m Watching: Next Action Star, and really enjoying that moment when Jared got nailed in the crotch by a football. And: Well�nothing else, really. That�s about all I watched.