Ruminations:

Why, though I despise their music, do I know all of the words to Nickelbacks songs?

Is Lindsay just faking it with Samantha? And is anyone else sort of skeeved out by the length of her extensions?

Who thought jumpsuits ought to make a revival? Can we castrate him? Because I’m sure it was a man. No woman would ever think to bring back something that makes a bathroom break such a monumental task. And SWEET GOD! The danger of camel toe! Just, no.

Why do I continue to watch the Real Housewives even though I'm sure my IQ has dropped dramatically as a result?

I never get sick of listening to Eddie Vedder. He could sing the telephone book and, if Hugh Jackman were to call me up for dinner, I would shriek, “EDDIE IS SINGING A-through-N TONIGHT. I CANNOT BE BOTHERED!” Though I would first lick his bicep...we can't have Hugh upset, after all.

I’ve decided that I need to use the colon more in my writing. Unfortunately, it didn’t work for this sentence.

Is there anything better than the section of US magazine called “Stars: They’re Just Like Us!” followed by pictures of them with zits and picking up their dogs’ poop? Plus, there is a colon in that headline!

I had the world’s WORST manicure on Saturday (first world problem, I KNOW). But I only realized the extent of my OCD after this event as I could do nothing but focus on the hideousness of my fingernails for the rest of the day and, in fact, almost needed a paper bag to breathe into until I could finally take the polish off on Sunday.

My toes looked great, though.

I must look like a person with loose boundaries, as people say the most inappropriate things to me all of the time. For instance, a new client came in the other day and said “Please don’t work me out in a way that will make my butt look like yours…you know…round.” GOD. Let’s hope my brain doesn’t become like hers via osmosis…you know…stupid. Whore.

Yesterday, I bought dark chocolate chipotle covered almonds. Verdict: awesome. Jeans: now tight from ingestion of many almonds. (Did you know that Microsoft Word doesn’t recognize the word chipotle?) (How can that be? It’s a west coast company, which means that almost everyone who works there probably eats Mexican food at least twice a week.) (Perhaps Bill Gates has an aversion to spicy food?)

I’m in danger of SCRATCHING OUT MY EYEBALLS if I have to see Spencer and Heidi doing one of those damned “Oh! You caught us grocery shopping! How convenient that Heidi is wearing a slutty dress and Spencer has some elaborate, douche-like facial hair!” photo ops. It makes me re-think my stance on plastic surgery as I’m often compared to her, looks-wise. In face. Not boobs.

I really, REALLY hate the word gourd. I hate the sound of it, the way it looks. I even just shuddered typing it. It's my Thing. You know...the one Thing we all have that is weird. Of course, mine is more of a list, but who's counting?

Let’s see…dum de do…nothing else really to report today, so carry on, internet. I’ve been slowly catching up on my sleep and returning to a normal state of being, which means I’m not wandering around with my underwear on top of my pants or anything humiliating like that. I did go to work in my bedroom slippers the other day, though. Thankfully, I work barefoot, so the strange stares were minimal. But, you know, suck it. My feet were happy.

P.S. Happy birthday Anna! I hope my brother takes you out properly tonight and buys you many shiny things. Or just lots of drinks. Sometimes that MAKES things look shiny, which is just as good.