Another Episode of The Young and the Boring

The gods of Blogger are in a good mood this morning. They actually let me in on the first try and are letting me post pictures. Woot.

So I'm trying to decide what little cleaning project I should accomplish today. Because, while it is summer, my ever-so-intriguing life needs some structure or I end up going crazy, like my little sister, and I don't have anywhere near her photoshopping capabilities and I've already read Anna Karenina so I'd end up sitting in the corner staring at the wall or pathetic.

On Monday I washed the hurricane glasses from the chandelier, and I moved some of the furniture and vacuumed underneath it. And then yesterday was, of course, the bathroom. Today I'm thinking maybe the brewery. Technically, that's Daddy's domain, but he only cleans when we have members of the clergy over, which is infrequently. And the microwave is pretty icky now too. Yes. I think that's what it shall be. Maybe tomorrow we'll tackle moving the sideboard, which I don't think has been done since we moved in when I was eleven. And maybe I'll make Daddy go through this pile of important looking financial papers on the desk that you cn now actually see from outside.



Worked last night. But you know, it was totally worth driving through the sadistic road construction and standing for four hours on feet with open sores to serve annoying people who wanted weird little variations and this one woman who would not stop talking to me about physics and her weight loss (yes, I do think it would be insulting if you handed out copies of your diet to random people) and unloading a big shipment of syrup all by myself and getting weird wet stuff from the trash bag all over my arm only to drive home and have to load the dishwasher because everybody else in the house (except Mom) is incapable of opening the damn thing, because I made a whole dollar in tips. One freakin' dollar. Bugger.

Finished this awesome book, Whole World Over, yesterday. It tells the story of a bunch of different people in New York whose stories are all connected, and it culminates with 9/11 and its aftermath when the consequences of all of the decisions they've made over the course of the last year show up and they all have to make decisions about which direction they want to take their lives. It's really well-written and completely absorbing (I read three hundred pages in one day and didn't really even notice it). Plus, it's got infidelity, a loveable politician, a funny gay guy, and a girl whose family is keeping a secret about her life before she was involved in a horrific accident that left her with memory loss! What more could you want???

Now I'm reading Dracula, and loving it. Despite my nineteenth century French and Russian literature-loving exterior, I'm really my Daddy's little girl at heart, and there's nothing quite like a good horror novel to keep me interested. Well, that and I have to finish it before The Boy finishs LOTR and hijacks it, even though I paid of it. Psh. Whatev.

Finally, I was reading Ojava's blog this morning, and he was talking about Those Damn Kennedys, and their involvment with Marilyn's "suicide" and it got me thinking about all the unanswered questions that history has given us.

I love a good conspiracy theory, believe me, and when I die there are so many things that I want to find out. Where are the bodies of Alexei and Marie Romanov? Is it really Marie? Or is it Anastasia and Marie just had a freakishly undeveloped vertebrae??? Because there's some talk about that, you know... What happened to the inhabitors of Roanoke Island??? What did Croatoan signify? Was there a second shooter??? Was Stephanie really driving the car??? Did Elizabeth I really bump off Robert Dudley's wife??? (No, I'm sure she really fell off the stairs...all alone...) Who was Jack the Ripper? (Queen Victoria???)

Of course, history also teaches us that sometimes the answers are not quite as fun as the mystery surrounding them. Like Deep Throat. W. Mark Felt the old man being exploited by his money-grubbing family isn't quite as intruiging as the idea of an unknown shadowy figure bringing down the President in a parking garage. And while I'm pretty sure that the missing Romanov bodies just fell off the back of the cart and are rotting in the ground somewhere in the woods at Ekaterineburg, it's not nearly as fun as thinking of Yurovsky getting rid of them for some reason. I'm also pretty sure that the Croatoan tribe just killed the bunch of them and probably burned the bodies, but I much prefer the vanishing into thin air idea. So I guess I should be careful what I wish for. On the other hand, I'll be dead, so maybe the mystery won't matter anymore...

Have a good Wednesday everybody!!!