*I got rolfed this week. This was not nearly as much fun as it may sound. Rolfing is basically a massage that kicks your ass and may leave bruises. Despite this, my back and neck are still killing me.
*My friend Nichole, who definitely qualifies as a compulsive shopper (but hey! I'm not judging, especially when it benefits ME) visited from Seattle last weekend and brought me a gigantic box of hand-me-downs and rejects. And I tell you, it's like I won the clothing lottery because she has fantastic (and expensive) taste. I have worn some article of hers every day this week.
*I am wearing extremely cute shoes today (with my new favorite wide-legged jeans). Behold:
I know! Not my usual style but I love them soooo much. It's good to step outside your comfort zone every now and then, no? The store was having a half-off sale, and these were the last pair of these and they happened to be my size. I mean, how could I NOT buy them, right? Woohoo! I can't wait to wear them with skirts this Spring.
*That bag? Is an exact replica of the one I made for my friend Julie awhile back. I liked hers so much I had to make one for myself, and I get so many compliments on it, everywhere I go. The other day in Nordstroms? No fewer than 4 people (including one adorable gay boy who I wanted to stuff into said bag and bring home with me) approached me to rave about my "beautiful bag". Also? At the store where I bought those cute shoes, the owner declared my bag a "work of art" (she also owns the art gallery next door) and asked if I'd be interested in selling some bags on consignment in her store! She wants 45% which is CA-RAY-ZEE, so I won't be taking her up on her offer. But it was flattering, nonetheless. I have wonderful new business cards on their way, so I will soon be handing cards out to everyone who dares approach me with compliments.
*We went to the school talent show last night and there was a girl who came out on the stage and seriously? I thought she was some one's mom or big sister. She was at least 5'9" tall, wearing a shirt that showed how very well developed she is, slacks and high-heels. She has the body of a 24 year old, I'm not even kidding. And she's in SIXTH GRADE, ya'll. Throughout her entire song I had two thoughts running through my head: "I guess she COULD be 19, if she's flunked 6th grade, what? 6 times." And also "I bet her dad sleeps with a shotgun under his pillow." OH please oh please oh please do not let my daughter suffer the body of a full-grown woman at the age of 12.
*In a few weeks, Anna and our young friend Syringa are going to GOAT CAMP! You may not know this about me, but I have a thing for goats. It was a sad, dark day when I found out that "goat herder" was not really a viable career option for me, because my parents did not have the foresight to give birth to me in the Swiss Alps. Damn the luck. So when I stumbled upon Goat Camp, well let's just say I did not bother consulting my daughter about her wish to attend before hitting that "register now" button. Luckily she likes goats too, and goat cheese, which they will be making. Nichole (Syringa's mom) and I may or may not KIDnap (har har) a baby goat. Or three. Note to self: look into the laws about having a goat in one's backyard within the city limits.
*Once again this morning I grabbed the business end of my curling iron, thereby rendering 3rd degree burns on at least two fingers. WHAT THE FUCK curling-iron manufacturers, why do you make the barrel and the handle the EXACT SAME SIZE AND COLOR??? I should sue them. If that dumb woman can sue McDonalds for spilling scalding-hot coffee on her lap, then this dumb woman should be able to sue Revlon for for the angry, oozing wounds I now sport on my left hand. Seriously, talk about DESIGN FLAW.
*Because Sandra Bullock was nominated (and then won) an Academy Award, she has given numerous interviews recently wherein she talks about the fact that she was able to give the performance of her life because she found the "one man in the world she could fully trust and rely on", a man who taught her that you can't judge a book by its (tattooed) cover, the man who got her to open her heart and love someone in a way she never thought possible. And now? It's come out that he cheated on her with a tattooed porn-star-wanna-be. It just makes me sick. And that's really going to help with my almost-nightly "David comes to his senses and divorces my ass, leaving my crying in the fetal position knowing that I've lost my one true love" nightmares. I hope his pit-bull mauls his stupid testicles off.
Jesse James' stupid testicles, NOT David's. We don't even own a pit-bull.
Well! On that note, I urge you to carry on with your day and have a great weekend!