I miss this man every single day we're not together. He is the best un-boyfriend ever.
Here I am with him drunkenly doing ballet in fromt of the bar. Classy with the cig, I know. I'm borderline mentally disabled when I drink too much.
I want to be here: ("here' in this case happens to be on the patio of an adorable beach hotel with my lovely friend Stacy after a breakast of champagne and mimosas...)
Another day of toiling away in corporate land is over, thank fuck.
Stopped for sushi on the way home (at Publix, sans company of any kind...sigh. Poor me). I totally disappointed myself and most likely anyone who has ever met me (yes, even my cat) by giving into the impulse-buy area of the checkout line, where I purchased a celeb rag.
I don't know why. Although, I did get something that oozed awesomeness in impulse land- a small, paperback book entitled "How to Talk to Your Cat." FINALLY! I can tell Giselle she's a bit chunky and I may have to curb her buffet a bit. According to this book, she will understand me AND respond. It's all in the tail, cat people.
Anyway, after perusing the trash I picked up in line at Publix for a moment or two, I started to get a bit distressed about where we are headed as a society if things of this nature are newsworthy:
-Denise Richards: My THREE Boob Jobs!
-Brad Pitt gets naked
-Newly single Megan cozies up to Shia
-Jen slams Brad and John
-Katie pushes Tom aside (with the obligatory "how she's rebelling against Tom" inset)
-Gisele is PREGNANT (no, not my cat. the model)
Okay, I'll stop, but I really could keep going. For a long, long, long time. I'm glad this gets front page of all the glossies---but I just inadvertently found out about our nation's most covert operation in history( providing the Afghans with the weapons and resources to defeat communism and chase the fucking Soviets out of their country) by purchasing Charlie Wilson's war in the 5 dollar bin at Blockbuster? Who, by the way, was, and still is a fucking badass (Charlie Wilson that is). Good Time Charlie. Google him. He's awesome.
Shame on me for knowing off the top of my head that Brangelina has 6 kids total but being oblivious to certain historical (and current) events.
Moving on, I'm watching the new Twilight Zone, and it BLOWS. I miss the old b&w ones. They were creepy. This is retarded.
Here I am with him drunkenly doing ballet in fromt of the bar. Classy with the cig, I know. I'm borderline mentally disabled when I drink too much.
I want to be here: ("here' in this case happens to be on the patio of an adorable beach hotel with my lovely friend Stacy after a breakast of champagne and mimosas...)
Another day of toiling away in corporate land is over, thank fuck.
Stopped for sushi on the way home (at Publix, sans company of any kind...sigh. Poor me). I totally disappointed myself and most likely anyone who has ever met me (yes, even my cat) by giving into the impulse-buy area of the checkout line, where I purchased a celeb rag.
I don't know why. Although, I did get something that oozed awesomeness in impulse land- a small, paperback book entitled "How to Talk to Your Cat." FINALLY! I can tell Giselle she's a bit chunky and I may have to curb her buffet a bit. According to this book, she will understand me AND respond. It's all in the tail, cat people.
Anyway, after perusing the trash I picked up in line at Publix for a moment or two, I started to get a bit distressed about where we are headed as a society if things of this nature are newsworthy:
-Denise Richards: My THREE Boob Jobs!
-Brad Pitt gets naked
-Newly single Megan cozies up to Shia
-Jen slams Brad and John
-Katie pushes Tom aside (with the obligatory "how she's rebelling against Tom" inset)
-Gisele is PREGNANT (no, not my cat. the model)
Okay, I'll stop, but I really could keep going. For a long, long, long time. I'm glad this gets front page of all the glossies---but I just inadvertently found out about our nation's most covert operation in history( providing the Afghans with the weapons and resources to defeat communism and chase the fucking Soviets out of their country) by purchasing Charlie Wilson's war in the 5 dollar bin at Blockbuster? Who, by the way, was, and still is a fucking badass (Charlie Wilson that is). Good Time Charlie. Google him. He's awesome.
Shame on me for knowing off the top of my head that Brangelina has 6 kids total but being oblivious to certain historical (and current) events.
Moving on, I'm watching the new Twilight Zone, and it BLOWS. I miss the old b&w ones. They were creepy. This is retarded.