Sunday, Sunday. D.H. and I slept in until 6:00 and now here I sit, typing furiously while he watches Anacondas slithering across our thankfully tiny screen *shudder* . As I glance outside and see the humid gray morning punctuated by my trailer park chili peppers dangling off the balcony I think what I would give to be here:
On a beach, sunbathing, canoeing, kayaking, feeling the sand between my toes, whatthehell I'd even pick up trash if I could be HERE! Which leads us to ask: Where exactly is here? I knoweth not, but I did the 2nd best thing I could do:
I signed up for this:
If I can't GO to an actual island, I will pretend. As you all know, I have an extremely VIVID and ACTIVE imagination. You can find out if I have signed on to bite more than I can chew by clicking RIGHT HERE. I might not even get picked, but sometimes I like to torture myself a little bit. Usually I just go shopping for jeans out in the local economy - try squeezing my butt into a Japanese Large (It's reminiscent of Chris Farley's "Fat Guy in a Little Shirt!" routine, except with lots more cursing) - but yesterday! I decided to opt for some supreme torture and put my name in the bag, fully anticipating that I will not get picked, but really wanting to be picked. Just like when DH says "What's wrong?" and I say "Nothing." all while expecting him to read my mind and see how torn up I am about (Insert latest crisis here) . Reminds me of the time that I was DUN DUN DUN DUN! CONTESTANT NUMBER FIVE WHEN THEY ONLY NEEDED FOUR! Thanks MTV! In retrospect (and maybe even a little bit of maturity) I am thankful that I did not get the chance to embarrass myself on Intercontinental TV. I have done that enough. Somewhere in Japan, there is a commercial of me jumping up and down in a bikini ( as best as I could manage err mangle in rollerblades) while hitting hole-in-ones on a very sad putt putt advertising this thinly veiled reincarnation of hell *grumble grumble* Looks like paradise, smells like paradise...we'll save that story for another time.
OOH! New star on Nickelodeon, NAME? TATA Young. I don't know about you, but I, personally, associate the name tata with BOOB. Look at TATA. Look at her TATAS! Children's author, here I come! Hey, if Madonna can do it, so can I! I won't even fake that horrible English accent that she just "picked up" and "can't hear." Send the bitch to New Jersey. Or South Africa, I love those accents! I'm just sayin', if you're going to be putting on airs...Being that it's a children's network, I am APPALLED! APPALLED, I SAY! (insert righteous indignation here) .Yeah right. I'm the one who giggled all the way home after I met Major Woody.
I have to thank Rachel AGAIN for another new look! I love it! I love it! I love it! I cannot say enough about it! I'm going all chic on y'all's asses! Watch out! Get back! Why yes, I did just watch Shrek with Eddie Murphy playing the jackass. How'd ya guess?