Or maybe I'm running out of all thoughts all together. I haven't really decided.
For the last few days I have felt like tapping a mike and asking, "Is this thing on?" in regards to this blog. Too bad the blog doesn't have a microphone.
I think I need a kiddie gate for my headboard. The other morning I woke up to Bella screaming. She had somehow managed to get her back end stuck between the wall and the headboard. How something that big can get stuck in something so narrow I will never know. Maybe she's not fat. Maybe she's just full of those little bean things that are inside beanie babies. At least that's what I'm going to tell Dr. McSnippy the next time I take Bella to the vet.
A few weeks ago I was thinking to myself that this fake-Proactiv stuff that I had been using was really working this time. Then I woke up yesterday, looked in the mirror, and saw that I had two horns growing out of my chin, like I was Hellboy's daughter. Can't someone tell the skin gods that my sister already has that job?
Yesterday on my second trip to Fantastic Sam's, I sat next to a woman with hair the color of a beet and skin the color of an overcooked sweet potato. If she ever decides to give up her day job, she'll be a shoe-in for a talking carrot on a PBS kids' show or for Ruby's long-lost cousin Bobbie Sue.
Which reminds me. For some people, self-tanner and red hair dye are privileges, not rights. I think stores ought to require a mental aptitude test before allowing you to buy either.
I'm trying to decide if I want to watch Pretty Little Liars tonight. If the show came on some channel other than ABC Family, I would watch it no questions asked. There's just something about that channel and its obsession with Bring It On marathons that kind of freaks me out.
Does anyone else want to cry every time they see a picture of an animal covered in oil in the Gulf? I grew up an hour and a half or so from Florida's Gulf Coast (from a beach called Alligator Point). Every summer my family tried to vacation in some way, shape, or form at another beach called St. George Island, even if that "vacation" was only a day trip to the island's state park. I love the Gulf Coast's white, soft sand (the Atlantic coast sometimes looks and feels like clay), its milder currents, and its wildlife. Once when it was about to storm and the waves were huge at St. George, I had a dolphin swim by me about a wave length away. I never had that happen on the Atlantic Coast. I had planned on moving to the Gulf if I ever won the lottery, but I don't know if that will happen now thanks to BP. There probably won't be anything left but dirty sand and animal carcases. I can't even watch the news reports about the spill anymore. It depresses me more than the recession.
I fought the laundry, and the laundry won:
There's another load still waiting in the dryer for me. At least it's CLEAN laundry.
I now have I Fought the Law, and the Law Won stuck in my head.
