Do you realize

...that my hairdryer broke this morning, leading me to the discovery that it is impossible to dry my hair with a curling iron despite a solid attempt? That, surprisingly, my hair looks better today than it has all week? That the fact that I’m even thinking about this still means that my vanity is hopeless?

…that the new Modest Mouse albums sounds much better in my car at 6:30 am than it does in my house on a Saturday afternoon?

…that there is a chance, albeit only a sleight one, that I may have viral meningitis, but since I wish to not subject myself to either a spinal tap or an MRI, I will continue to self-medicate with cough drops and aspirin and chocolate chip cookies? Of course, it might only be a cold coupled with a sore neck induced by stress, but if I call it viral meningitis I can justify skipping the gym all week?

…that if I skip the gym for only one week I immediately feel as if I have gained 10% body fat? That I really do need to get back there else you won’t ever love me?

…that it’s harder than you might think to explain the difference between war and genocide to curious teenagers?

…that I’m really digging the book that I’m reading right now, both in its concept and execution? That it's sentences like, “so I let the rain drum its tune on my coat as the others ran past me over the road to the school gates with bars like teeth ready to eat another day out of them and out of me,” that make me love it all the more?

…that I’m finding it terribly difficult to find a single Allen Ginsberg poem that would be appropriate for my kids to read? That I’m not sure how I could teach then about the Beat Generation without covering Ginsberg? That I’m thinking of risking it and giving them “America” to read anyway? That I think they might like me just enough not to rat me out to THE MAN?

…that it’s Friday? That I have four more wake ups to go until spring break? That this is awesome?

Well, do you?

feeling ranty

It's Monday. I'm cranky. I'm ranty. I'm about to go off on three things that are contributing to the black cloud of crank that's formed above my head and, sorry, but you are going to listen to me and you are going to like it.

#1: Cords
Seriously, it's 2007. This is supposed to be the future. We're supposed to have hover crafts, take our food in vitamin form, have our own personal robotic servant and absolutely nothing should need a cord of any kind. Yet, here I am, fumbling to untangle knots, discern what plugs into what and where, and trying to hide the whole unsightly mess like a freakin' caveman. Err, cavewoman. Whatever. I hate cords. Word.

#2: My Hair
I got another rare haircut this weekend and I hate, hate, hate it. Yes, I suppose the current state of my hair is partially my own fault. I'm cheap and lazy and suffer from delusions of grandeur so I tried to give myself another haircut with disastrous results, and I'm sure the hairdresser probably had quite a time cleaning up the mess that I made, but still. They're called layers, lady - read a book. She did NOT need to cut my hair so short that it meets up with the shortest layer, and she SHOULD have added some layers in there somewhere. So now I'm deformed and it's all her fault. Jerk.

#3: Skinny Christina Ricci
I joined in with about 95% of the homosexual male population who absolutely loved you for your voluptuousness, indie cred and general good choices in film roles during the late 90's. You were adorable in Buffalo '66, bitingly awesome in The Opposite of Sex, and an unexpected treat in Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. And then you got skinny, and along with the pounds you apparently also lost your taste and dignity. Cursed was awful, and I'm sure that there are some people who are interested in seeing your 95 pound frame chained up and writhing on the floor in Black Snake Moan, but I ain't one of them. Do me a favor - go on a milkshake diet, get your head straight and let's be friends again, 'kay? 'Cause I miss you, sunshine.


In short, just give me my robot servant and I can deal with the rest.