Commenting, Not Condoning

I feel like burning off icons, today, y'all. Indulge me, okay???



Is it really only Thursday??? I totally thought yesterday was Saturday. I'm not sure why. Oh. Probably because it was Mickey's birthday and we all celebrated and drank and ate and showed everyone exactly how Polish and Irish we are. Imladris covered it pretty well, and I can't say a whole lot without ripping her off. Which I do far too often and must stop. I'd just like to say that I too would wake up every morning and look out the window with trepidation to make sure that there was not a burning cross (I don't know why I didn't think that the cross would somehow burn down during the night, but I didn't). And when I went to my father with these very real if somewhat invalid fears, he did in fact tell me to say a Hail Mary. Which didn't help at all.

Had bunches of good times, though, with cheesy lasagna and the best garlic bread in the world. And, of course, loverly drinks courtesy of Daddy. I love that we built a bar into our house. We're so weird.



I miss Lost. Can you tell???

You know what I also miss? Money. Do you know how many hours I have next week? Four. That is $30.81 before taxes. That won't even pay for the gas to drive to school, much less actually pay for tuition. Apparently they're so laid back they don't even really want you to come in. I was kind of upset about having to work eight hours on Saturday, but now I'm like, "No, dammit! That time is mine!!!"



I also miss CSI:NY, which was not on last night. Bugger. The 100 Years 100 Cheers inspirational movie special was, though. (Except, again, much like last year I must take issue with the title. )

Overall they got all of my favorites in, except Seabiscuit and Forrest Gump should have been way higher than 80-something and 37. I am totally in love with #1-3, and number five. I'm not sure exactly what #4 inspired other than a bunch of porno actors to say, "Hey, if Stallone can do it, I can too!!!" But 1-3 definately. In fact, I was practically crying just thinking about it. And I'm not entirely sure what the Sound of Music inspired, but I'm very glad it was on there. Even if the real Maria and Captain von Trapp weren't nearly as attractive. Humph.

They should have let Gary Sinise talk more, though. Jessica Alba got to go to town with her thought-provoking and incisive comments like, "All kids like Babe," or "I like Pinnochio!", and they only let him talk about Apollo 13 and Forrest Gump. Whatev.

I'm bored. Please entertain me.

I'm not feeling terribly witty today, all, so don't expect anything to hilarious.

First real day of summer, y'all. Because even though I've been out for a month, Imladris has had to be at school at seven thirty every morning. And as we are sadly one car short of the number of drivers and people who actually have places to be in the house, I've been the one to drive her. At seven fifteen. A.M. :P But she's done now. Yayness. Slept until almost ten. It's a beautiful thing.

Last night at work was freakin' boring. Nobody came the last hour and a half, except for a Best Buy employee who wanted a smoothie. And I'd probably have made about eighteen cents in tips if Mary and her friends hadn't stopped by and emptied their change into the little jar. Funness seeing them, too. Even more fun learning that Mary lied to her parents about leaving the state with her boyfriend. Not fun so much as, "What the hell???" Had a splitting headache, too, and was all out of Advil Cold and Sinus. Bugger.

Imladris cleaned her room yesterday. *gasp* I'd forgotten what color the carpet was underneath all the dust. Probably almost as bad as attempt at the same.

Okay, somebody famous and beautiful has got to get knocked up in some hideously inappropriate manner SOON. Seriously. Since Brangelina popped we've had nothing good to read about. I don't care that Paris doesn't need a man (um, yeah, I can get my hands on a DVD that begs to differ), or that Jack Black has a baby boy, or that Austrialia is using questionable means of crime deterrant, or that Baby Shiloh has probably smiled for the first time. I want juiciness!!!! NOW!!!!

And does anybody else think that baby Suri Holmes-Cruise doesn't actually exist??? Like maybe the whole pregnancy and the curiously timed birth (a week before M:I:3 opened?) and Tom's even more curious declaration that he wouldn't have to miss the premiere (how did he know that???) were all just one big publicity stunt??? I'm not usually a conspiracy theorist (okay, yes, I am. I'm a card-carrying member of the Second Shooter Club), but something is a little off. And not just Katie's vitals since Tom turned her into an alien.

ETA: Whoo!!! My Inner Crime Scene Whore is so freakin happy!!!

Does That Make Me Crazy???

(I'm sorry, I can't help it!!! I'm totally into that song now, too!!!)

Ha! I figured out a way to fool blogger into letting me post icons without threatening to kill my family in the middle of the night. Oh the craftiness that is me...

Monday again. But not in a bad way. Imladris even said she didn't feel like killing herself this morning, which is a step in the right direction, I suppose. I actually kind of like Mondays. I mean, I like the weekends, too, because my dad's home and we're all together and all that crap, but my whole schedule is thrown off. And I am nothing if not a creature of habit. And I always feel fat on the weekends. I don't know why. I'm so weird. And I get nothing done. I'm really responsible during the week, but on Saturdays it's like, "Wow. Four o'clock already??? No shit, huh?"

This weekend was pretty good though. I got a call at like eight o'clock from work, which was disturbing for so many reasons. First, because I was in a towel, and I have a problem talking to people, even over the phone, in a towel. Second, I really didn't want to work any longer than I had to, and I had a feeling that's what they wanted. Turns out they didn't need any extra help, and they didn't even want me to come in that day at all. Which brings us to the third problem, "WHAT?!?!?!?! What did I do wrong!?!?!?!" *ahem* Nothing, btw, they just overscheduled. Okay. I'm breathing again by this time. And I wasn't too terribly broken up, because I really didn't feel like going in at all that day. And it was only four hours. Hardly enough money to make it worth it.

Sunday was good too---went for a pointless ride with the parents; fun, nonetheless, if only to hear Colleen go on and on about her Algonquin "heritage" and how she's so in tune with nature. Uh-huh.

(Imladris will understand.)

Then we went to Mary's graduation party, which was fun. Finally met the elusive Nick. I didn't feel too badly, because I did have a wonderful graduation party (iPod- whoo!!!), but the whole graduation thing still kind of makes me feel like I missed something. Not that I really would have wanted to go, I'm sure, because large gatherings of crying teenagers are not exactly my cup of tea, but I realized that a huge part of graduation is a chance to say goodbye- to your friends, to the school, to that whole part in your life. I didn't really have that. I left after my last exam, and sat and cried in the car for a couple minutes, and then came home alone because my mom was at chemo. That's actually pretty sad.

I don't think this will really scar me for life or anything, but I understand the allure of sitting in an overcrowded theater for three hours a lot more now.

Okay, so I've started watching Northern Exposure DVDs with the parentals, as Imladris would say. Bad hair, good acting. We much prefer the FBI look. Although this did afford Colleen the opporutnity to scream "AHHH!!!" everytime Don comes on the screen in Numb3rs...which is worth it, trust me. HAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

Finally got around to watching Crash this weekend, too. Other than the fact that it's 109 minutes long and they use the f-word about 110 times, it's actually pretty good. I wasn't expecting it to be, and the first fifteen minutes are a major snooze, but I can totally see how it won best picture. I still think Capote was better, and even Good Night and Good Luck, but I can see the appeal. Watch it if only to see Ryan Phillipe try to be a man. And fail, but at least he tries. :)



Funness this Wednesday, folks! AFI is doing another one of their fun little countdown, this time of the 100 Most Inspriring Movies of all time--- and you know how I love my inspiring movies! I'm pretty sure I'm going to be curled up in a corner sobbing halfway through the show, as I am also generally an emotional mess at inspirational movies. I'm so happy I don't even really mind that it's pre-empting CSI:NY. Such is my devotion to inspiring movies. You can find a list of the nominees here. I'd have a commentary on them, but my computor is being a bitch and says we don't have Adobe reader even though we TOTALLY DO!!!!!!!!! Sheesh.

Britney Spears thinks that she's a good mother with a good marriage. Sure you are, sweetie.
I'm going to go clean something. Have a good day. Oh, and happy birthday, Mary!!! :)

Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis

Last one, I promise. Mainly because it's Friday and next week they will be going back to normal, boring words.

This is, btw, the longest English word in any dictionary (45 letters). And I can't even begin to tell you how to pronounce it, except to hear it, which you can here. It's worth it, trust me.

It means some kind of lung problem. Not that anybody uses it.

Major iTunes disaster today, y'all. Last night I was reorganizing some stuff, and when the little prompt came up and asked me if I wanted to upgrade, I accidentelly clicked on "Yes" instead of "No". I didn't really feel like going through the whole thing because it was ten thirty and I was really tired, so I just stopped it. Obviously not soon enough. So today when the Boy tried to open it, it said that files were missing and you had to reinstall. So he flipped out because God forbid we lose Toby Keith singing about bombs (I'm as red-state as the next girl, but must we write ditties about blowing people to shreds?). Thankfully, when I reinstalled it, and held my breath and crossed my fingers because I really didn't feel like rounding up the CD version of my 500 song library, everything worked fine and all our songs are still there. And my gift certificate credit. *whew* Now the Boy will not come after me with a hatchet in the middle of the night.

Possibly the best part? We are now video-enabled, which means that I can download any of my CSI episodes, and Numb3rs (which we broke down and purchased the first season, even though it only has thirteen episodes...whatever.) and watch them on my computor at any time. Life is good.

So I worked all morning today, which was okay because I got my first ever paycheck. Only for eleven hours, so it wasn't monumentally huge or anything, but still better than an allowence! But as soon as the bright-shiny-new-eighty-dollars-really?!?!?!?! feeling kind of wore off, I was just bored. Because we had four customers the first three hours. Seriously. I'm not forgetting any. There were four. It was sooooo boring, but in that tiring way, where you cannot get enough coffee, even though it's free. And I was alone again for an hour, and didn't end up in a fetal position in the corner when somebody asked for an iced drink, so I'm thinking that's pretty good. And I have more full-time hours next week, so maybe I'm beyond being babysat. That would be nice.

Then I came home and dusted and vacuumed. Oh the joy. So much fun I could barely stand it.

But then I devoured my new People magazine with Baby Jolie-Pitt photos---so cute!!! If I wasn't convinced that he was an adultering manwhore the pictures of Brad Pitt holding that precious little baby would have absolutely melted me. I could hear my ovaries yelling, "Seriously? Are we really on Team Aniston?!?!?! Look how pretty!!!!"

Have a good Friday, y'all. Numb3rs tonight- whoo!

Floccinaucinihilipilification

Again, couldn't not use it. They make great titles, no??? Means estimating something as worthless. Much like your attempt to pronounce it. I actually do know how to pronounce it, but only because they used it on a commercial years ago.

(Note: This was way longer and probably funnier, but blogger is pitching a hissy fit it ate my post. And only regurgitated half of it when I hit the recall button.)

So, I know you were all sitting at your computors all day yesterday, obsessively checking my blog and thinking, "What!?!?!?! Where is the update!?!?!?!?" And when there wasn't one, I'm sure you were heartbroken.

So was I. I had to spend seven hours and fifteen minutes (longer if you count check-in, although they gave us cookies during that) with my generation. Oh. Not good. Not good at all.

I don't like my people. They bug the hell out of me. I like my people being touchy feely and diverse even less than I like them normally.

And then when you add having to sit out in the sun for three hours to "bond" (read: get burned so badly that you can see the imprint of my bracelet clasp on the actual skin) while playing Cross the Line (No, I do not drink to much somtimes; yes, I do know a gay person; yes, I do know someone who has been discriminated against; no, I'm not involved in any hideously inappropriate but welcome nonetheless relationships...you get the idea), things become almost unbearable.

But the day was not a complete waste- free condoms courtesy of the Lesbian, Gay, Trans- and Bisexual community!!! Whoo! I'm kidding, y'all. Well, not about the offer, but the allusion that I might have taken them up on it. I just had to write something, as it was pretty much all they talked about.

Birth control aside, I did get my schedule finished- with my ideal classes and times. Snaps for me!!! French, Russian, math, psychology, and geography. What the hell made me think that was a good idea???I'm so happy- I can just forget about it until the end of August.

(My ID card sucks. Not nearly as pretty as my old one, and I look like crap. I'm thinking of losing it.)


The Infangelina made her photo debut, in People magazine, no less. That must be lie the ultimate power trip for a little kid- yes, sweetie, crazy people who don’t have lives of their own bought millions of copies just for a glimpse of your cute little face. Nobody wanted to spend three fifty for my baby pictures. And I was a cute baby. Every bit as cute as the Infangelina. Less rich. But still cute.

And I love how her mouth is just the same as her mom’s. I’ll be Angelina’s genes went all Lara Croft and beat the hell out of Brad’s genes. They were probably like, “Yeah. I already have your X chromosome. Now you will die.”



I finished The Man Who Loved Jane Austen. ZOMG, SOOOOO awesome. Now I’m reading the latest from Meg Cabot, The Queen of Babble. Yeah, you know when the title is that intelligent it’s going to be chick lit. I am a sucker for brightly-colored paperbacks sporting a shoe or a dress or half a woman’s face (why never the whole face???) and pastel printing. I don’t feel quite as guilty about it as I used to, because for most of the year I read history books or old novels or at the worst historical fiction. But every couple months, especially during summer, I have this overwhelming urge to read three hundred pages of bit letters about some plucky, slightly overweight young woman’s adventures in love and loss in New York City (usually). Except she never actually loses anything, she just ends up with the obscenely hot guy you knew she would and they’re in Europe making out or something. And then you look outside at your so not-European Midwestern backyard completely lacking in obscenely hot guys to make out with and feel a little bit sad. But that’s okay.

Because you didn’t have to think. All the other books I read require you to think, usually both cognitively and then philosophically. 1984? Loved it to death, but depressing as hell and I spent the entire day going, “What did that mean (what did the words say)?” and then “What does that mean (for humanity)?” Anything written by the woman who brought us The Princess Diaries and the infinitely satisfying Size 12 is Not Fat? Not so much.


Okay, so I’ve been thinking a lot about Mr. Darcy lately. Partly because of the book I read, which caused my Inner Lizzie Bennett to scream, “YEAH, BITCH!!! I KNEW HE WAS REAL!!!!!!!!”, and also because there was this older woman who came into work on Tuesday and was buying coffee for her singles book club. She was talking about how at first there was nobody, and then the second week this really nice guy showed up- like so nice that she was thinking she’d have to ask somebody else to run the singles book club (her words, not mine). She was so cute about it, and for some reason it made me think of a real-life Mr. Darcy. I think whenever you talk about going out with somebody with a literary part, every single girl would think of Mr. Darcy. Am I right, girls???
Current Mood:
contemplative

Honorificabilitudinity

This was my word-of-the-day e-mail. It was too good to not use. It's pronounced ON-uh-rif-i-kay-bi-li-too-DIN-i-tee. Imagine me trying to say this out loud at seven this morning. I just made your day a little bit happier, didn't I??? Oh, it mean honorablness. Which in an of itself is kind of hard to say.



So despite their ever-so-engaging letter of acceptance in which they recognize my laudable achievements during my secondary education while assuring me that they are deeply indebted to me for choosing their fine institute of higher learning and pledge that I will be incredibly pleased with my experience and beg for me to call them with any little questions I may have, the University of My Choice is trying to kill me.

What, you ask, is she hearing voices again?

No. And I take offense at that.

Rather than hitting the nail on the head and just sending a burly fellow to bump me off in the middle of the night, the University of My Choice (hereafter abbreviated UMC) prefers to be sneaky in its methods. They began six months ago with a deceptively simple essay question on the application, what exactly do I want out of this and how can I make it seem intelligent but not overdone; light of tone but not casual; mature but not written by my mom; eager for information but not completely afraid of autonomy? And how the hell am I supposed to do that in two hundred fifty words???

Once they have you in a simpering mess on the floor of the den, then they really strike- they confuse you with love and acceptence when they agree to let you attend. Then they strap you in a chair for five hours while you take "placement tests". I'm pretty sure that the Geneva Convention had something about this, but I can't be certain, because we were penalized for having any non-math or English-related thoughts.

Once they are forced to let you leave the premises, they know they need something to keep you codependent. So they come up with the idea to keep the information gained during the torture session placement test results from you until you come to sign up for classes.

But I got cocky. I was too smart for them. I figured out that they actually did release the scores, and they could be found on the website, thus cutting one of the many umbilical cords binding me to the School of Letters and Sciences.

I should have known they'd retaliate. UMC is not to be taken lightly.

They figure out the single most frustrating thing of the entire process, which you finally figured out, and then they change it. Completely. I spent forty-five minutes this morning trying to figure out my schedule that I already had figured out before they refigured the whole damn thing. I was ready to stab myself in the thigh with my pen.

And it's not over. Tomorrow they are witholding my schedule until I spend seven hours with my generation. *screams* NOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ANYTHING BUT THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! The little registration thing supposedly takes FOUR HOURS. What the hell could possibly take four hours about signing up for five classes??? I'm going to kill myself.

*ahem* Moving on...

Only about a month from the Emmy nominations! Whoo!!! Somebody posted a complete list of who is lobbying for nominations. There are a lot. I found it slightly amusing but mostly disturbing that at some point I have been been obsessed infatuated with a third of the people on the Lead Actor- Drama list. Yes, I did the math. It was really a third. I'm kind of surprised it wasn't more, actually...

A friend of mine's majorly disturbing asexual crush on Anthony LaPaglia notwithstanding, I am so thrilled that Without a Trace is coming to TNT. Once a week was not enough. Now it's on twice a night. And I have even more reason not to go out and see real people. Just what I needed. But now what to watch? CSI on Spike or Wihtout a Trace on TNT??? Oh the decisions that come because of having far too few actual friends. Even the one with the aformentioned quasi-crush.

Going to go clean the bathroom. I know you're all jealous. Please, just remember that I'm a real person just like you.

Unwritten

Major Monday blahs, y’all. OMG, I could not get out of bed this morning. I slept for two hours after squiring Imladris to school. Which is late, even for me. And then it threw me into a time funk, because I should NOT be starting my day with the ladies from The View (major sadness---Meredith is leaving on Friday and I can’t watch the estrogren-fueled sobfest because I have to serve coffee to nonexistent people!!!! I’m very upset.) and then I got a little bit amused because they were yelling about gay marriage and Star did my debate from government. Whoo! See? We did well!!! A former DA agrees with us!!! *ahem* Just cleaned the ENTIRE house, too. You may all bow before my domestic and filial goodness.

So? How was everybody’s weekend??? Went to see the Break Up on Saturday with everybody else in the country, apparently. So cute. We love Vince Vaughn. And Jason Bateman. And, ironically, Jennifer Aniston. We are thrilled to see her with someone infinitely less attractive than Brad Pitt because it gives us hopes that we can settle too!!! Take that, Sexiest Baby Alive. You should go see it, Mickey---your kind of movie, I think.

Then celebrated my parent’s anniversary by having them…buy us dinner. Yeah. They’re really good parents. The last four years they’ve pretty much done stuff for us- 2003 we all went to see Daddy Day Care, 2004 I was supposed to babysit but went to a movie leaving them home instead, I don’t really remember what happened last year but I’m pretty sure it involved us, and then this year they brought take-out home for us and went and watched my sister sing. In my Holy Slingbacks. Which were, apparently, trying to kill her all evening. But she did well. Even the Russian song.

So I was really bored at work on Saturday because like four people came in the entire five-hour period I was there and I only knew how to make two of the drinks they ordered anyways. And there's only so much time you can wipe down tables before the fumes start to make you lightheaded. Luckily, there was a display with the DVDs of Numb3rs right next to Northern Exposure. So I spent a good hour leaning against a coffee machine and having FBI-themed fantasies. Good times.

These are, by the way, are completely different from CSI-themed fantasies, which are far more prevalent. Probably because there are three of them, and at some point I've been into every single guy on all of them, thus giving one exponentially more thoughts. Except Delko. And Warrick. And Danny. And Hawkes. Okay, so maybe not so many. But still. CBS pretty much owns my soul at this point.

When I got home from being paid to have Kevlar-inspired daydreams work, I starting reading this absolutely wonderful book, The Man Who Loved Jane Austen. Soooo good. Imladris and Racergirl must read. My inner Lizzie Bennet is going, "YES!!! I KNEW HE EXISTED SOMEWHERE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" She's a little crazy.

(Icons aren't working. Oh the rage.)

Oooh, watched the Mrs. World 2006 this weekend. Imladris covered the batshit pretty well. I don't have too much to add, except that I was very confused by Mrs. Yugoslavia because, well, there is no more Yugoslavia. So I did some research, and found out that while it did dissolve for all intents and purposes six years ago (way to go, Slobodon), Serbia and Montenegro didn't officially declare independence until this weekend. So until Saturday, there was still still technically a Republic of Yugoslavia, which was presumably where this woman was from. Glad to clear that up for you. I'm sure it was on your minds all day.

(Insert Funny Icon *here*)

Some news from LaLa Land...My sister's intended is getting married this weekend. Okay, so he hasn't been her intended since the summer of '97, but I swear to God we were eating those toaster waffles through the millenium...

Anybody else think maybe he just doesn't want to do any more Hopelessly Devoted To You duets??? I'd probably run, too.

Finally, for the love of God please make it stop. It burns us. It burns us!!!

Have a good Monday, everybody!!!

Clean Out the CSI Icons Day

I have so many, and I never seem to have occasion to use the Vegas ones because I generally spend less time obsessing over watching that one. Not that I don't love it, because I really do. We'll start with some Greg, our favorite flunky CSI...



Okay, so I'm starting to think taking this job was a bad idea. Because I am now in possession of a two very dangerous things- an employee discount and a gift card. Oh the crazy shopping fun I shall have.



But I'm having some trouble deciding what to buy---The Dante Club, or The Man Who Loved Jane Austen. The Dante Club really looks better to me, but they're releasing a really cheap mass market paperback in a month, which would only cost me six bucks. But as I am an incredibly impatient person, this is troubling to me. It would end up costing me exactly the same, too. Thoughts? Comments? I also kind of want to buy the special edition DVD of Of Mice and Men, but that's for...um...completely different reasons.



Numbers is on tonight. I'm so totally over that curly-haired one and totally into the older brother now. We're renting Northern Exposure DVDs. There is some mighty fine acting on that show.



Saw Thank You For Smoking last night with a grand total of three people. One of whom was with me. Yeah. That theater is totally going to close down... Really funny, actually. I'm totally into indies now. I didn't get home until eleven thirty, so I was kind of too tired to comprehend it last night, but all day today these flashes of brilliantly funny lines have been coming back to me, and then I have to ask myself, "Wait. What is that from?" And then I have to answer myself, "Oh. Right. HAHAHAHAHA." And then I have to tell myself, "No, you're not crazy. At least all the voices in your head sound the same."

Fun with quotes!!!



Tomorrow's Saturday. Woot. Have to work right in the middle of the day. Boo. Want to go see The Break-Up and decide if Vaughniston is as cute as they appear to be. Not that I would ever decide to become a Brangelina supporter, but still.



Not a whole lot going on in the World of Beautiful People. Matthew McCaughnehey split with the ethnic actress that isn't Salma Hayek, and Rachel Weitsz had a boy. Snaps for her. We like her.



Sorry, I couldn't resist. I can't leave my NYers all alone in the picture file.

Have a good Friday night, everybody!!

Tanning Creams and Anna Nicole's Scary Ability to Spawn

I don't even know where to start this morning- we open with a really tawdry, non-Disney version of the The Princess Diaries , Batwoman's a lez, and how the hell did they get these two mixed up??? I'm dizzy. It's too early for all this!!!! Oh, and God has deemed to let Anna Nicole Smith reproduce again. He works in mysterious and sometimes frightening ways.

I'm sure y'all noticed that I changed my profile picture. Because I know you're all obsessed with me and everything that comes out of my mouth. Or hands, as the case may be. It was Johnny for about a month and a half, which was just hunky dory but I got buggy after awhile. Don't worry, he'll be back before POTC 2 comes out, or whenever I actually get the elusive ticket to Turkey. (According to Orbitz.com, I can get there for only $1, 324 plus taxes. With only one layover in London, mind you. I think an twelve hour flight in economy is a small price to pay for Johnny. Now I just need to get a passport and a way to Chicago.)

Then it was a book for twelve hours last night because I couldn't think of anything better, and I'm ready to kill somebody for something good to read. Now it's Jean Honore Fragonard's Young Girl Reading, which has been my favorite painting since I was a very little girl. An artist friend of my mom's gave me a copy that hung in my room when I was younger, and I still have a print up on my bulletin board. I've seen the real one in D.C. many times- I think I was six the first time, and we have a picture of me in front of it, barely coming up to the bottom of the frame. I almost flipped out when we did his work in art history this year.

It came down to that and my other favorite painting, the Execution of Lady Jane Grey, by Delaroche, which I have an inexplicable attraction to. I think it's the colors and the subject matter.

I always kind of felt sorry for Lady Jane, because it wasn't her fault that her cousin was a crazy little boy who should never have ascended the damn throne anyway not so good at thinking things through. She would have gone on to live a perfectly happy, less notable life if he hadn't named her his successor. (BTW, while I have an undying devotion to this painting, it is completely historically inaccurate. She was executed outside, wearing probably a simply cotton shift and most definately not a white satin dress, her hair would have been cut off or pulled up, there were women around her, but probably not languishing in the corner, and the block is too small. Still love it though.)

Despite how I feel about beauty magazines, I do listen to them and I do think that I need a tan. Which poses a number of problems.

1.) I'm so white you could bleach me and not notice a difference.

2.) Carcinogens seem to like our family.

3.) I told you, I'm freakin' white!!!!

4.) My skin doesn't tan, it just turns bright red.

So we are forced to use the safer, healthier, yet infinately mour difficult/troubling sunless tanning creams flooding the market. Which are also freakin' expensive. But I digress. Last year we did Neutrogena's gradual system, which worked okay but kind of was hard to get all over. And it was impossible to have it even because it was a lotion that didn't show up for hours. So you'd wake up the next morning and find this one really dark brown patch on your knee that didn't match anything.

So this year we are using Jergen's Natural Glow, a moisturizer that supposedly darkens your skin after a couple days. So far so good. Not causing any major allergic reactions, which is also a problem when you have unbelievably irritable skin (Nair? No good. My legs literally swelled up. I know you all really needed to know that.) Except it smells like really pungent cucumbers. Not pretty.

Good CSI:NY last night. I wrote about it when it was one a couple months ago. I still think Lindsay was flirting with Mac. And I'm still opposed to it. And I still think Flack deserved a revelation.

Final words (and link) today---WTF???