Just so we�re all on the same page, I feel I should make sure you know that my beach-jogging shoes? Still smell like an open grave. I�m not sure whether to get deodorizing insoles or an exorcist, because that stench might seriously be the result of a haunting, or the mummy�s curse, or something. The other day, I went down to get the mail, and I had to shoo away two ravens and the Angel of Death from the corner by the door where I put my sneakers to air out.
In other news, of lesser olfactory offense, I have finally gotten around to crossing off an item that�s been on my To Do list since early last June: I have begun to scrapbook for my summer vacation! And don�t you judge me for scrapbooking, either. It is NOT an �old lady thing to do�. Well, okay, maybe it is, but old ladies can be pretty fucking cool, all right? Witness Grandma Moses and�um, that �Where�s the beef?� lady! Where would pop culture be without them? And who would be looking for the beef? Will no one think of the beef??
Anyway, if you�re finished rolling your eyes about my scrapbook (which is just a multimedia photo album, so as to further enhance the experience -- okay, I�ll shut up now), I�ll continue. I didn�t get started until this late because of several reasons, but largely due to the fact that now, in the dead middle of winter, I get to be in Switzerland in June all over again. The downside is just that as I do this, I remember what an adventure it was, how much I miss spending that kind of time with my sister, and I get little pangs in my heart, kind of like homesickness. I guess that, despite my bad-ass Tough Guy exterior, I�m just a big old softie inside. Who knew?
Anyway, as I was sorting through the copious photos my sister and I took during our trip, I came to the horrible and sobering realization that I have about twice as many pictures as I have room to store them in the book. After some seriously arduous examination, I was able to rule out seventy-two photos that, for one reason or another, I felt I would be okay with their not being in the album. However, that still leaves me about thirty pictures over where I need to be, and I don�t know what the hell I�m going to do about it. I love all of the remaining photos equally, because each one is unique and special, and it�s been like Sophie�s Choice over here as I try to decide which to toss and which to keep.
You know, to tell you the truth, I don�t have a whole lot more to report. Aside from the anguish, the scrapbooking has been great, since it�s helped me escape from the rain-soaked winter drudgery outside. Simultaneously, I�ve really gotten into having my afternoons free, thanks to my night job (which, after some illogical fears that I would get canned after vacation because�well, because of nothing -- I�ve gotten so good at spazzing out, I don�t even need a reason anymore -- either way, I�m still working and enjoying it) (knock on wood). Now I get to watch Ellen DeGeneres�s talk show, and shake my head in pity when the ads come on for Dr. Phil, because I remember when he supposed to be the new Oprah or whatever, but instead he�s totally the new Maury Povich, and I�ve even tried watching Passions a few times, but I still don�t quite get it, and what�s with that orangutan, anyway?
However, I try to find other things to do with my day, besides watching TV, because I feel like it�s important to remain at least a little productive. All the little odds and ends I haven�t taken care of will just sit there and stare at me until I tend to them anyway, so it�s really in my best interests to do so.
And that�s all I got for now. You guys take care, and maybe next time I�ll thrill you with tales from the laundry room!
Someone Got Here By Searching For: developing a six pack abdomen I�m Watching: Lost. I know I�m totally in the minority on this, but Sawyer really bugs the shit out of me. Great show, though. And: Alias. As one experienced in the art of denial, I absolutely refuse to believe all that about Irina. You may join me, if you like.