You’ll have to excuse the fuzzy iPhone photo, but I was dying to share. My camera is in my car and I didn’t want to put pants on just to retrieve it.
Speaking of wearing pants, I wrote on Twitter last week that I was wearing pants and to please send prizes. I wasn’t serious, but the lovely Bellacantare sent a prize anyway. Thanks to her I may wear pants more often!
If you’re single it’s entirely possible you’ve had a defining moment where you realize why you’re single. I have them often. Including last night when I realized that wearing winter appropriate shoes really shouldn’t include wearing Hello Kitty fuzzy, pink socks.
I’m embarrassed to know me, so I imagine most men would feel the same way. And if that doesn’t scare away any potential suitors I imagine the fact that I’m discussing my ticking biological clock online will.
From yesterday’s snowstorm:
I’m pretending it’s cocaine because anything else is just too depressing.
To read my column about my trip to D.C. and some nasty business with Bill Clinton online go here. To download the PDF go here.
Also, I’m writing for Wasatch Woman magazine. Their upcoming issue will have a couple of pieces I wrote. Additionally I’m blogging on their website. You can read today’s post about Kurt Bestor invading my dreams here.
Be sure to comment and subscribe to my RSS feed there. Please? I asked nicely so you totally have to.
This is the only time I will post a picture of a penis on my blog. What am I doing? I can’t promise something like that. Let me rephrase: this is the only time TODAY I will post a picture of a penis on my blog.
While in D.C. I visited a lot of museums, one of my favorites was the Hirshhorn Museum. Modern and contemporary art is far more interesting to me than portraits of dead guys.
AND NOT JUST BECAUSE OF THIS:
This sculpture was part of the “Strange Bodies” exhibit. The seven-feet-tall piece sits alone in a corner and is absolutely incredible. It’s so lifelike that I kept expecting him stand up and scream at me for calling his junk small.
Do you ever come home from vacation and think, oh yeah, this is my life? Shit.
What is wrong with me? I just got home from a vacation, I shouldn’t be this grumpy. But my apartment looks even smaller than I remember, and thanks to my downstairs neighbor everything reeks of greasy Chinese food.
Or maybe the funk is due to the fact I woke up to snow:
Usually I come home and find Daisy running in circles because she’s so happy to see me. Without her, though, my apartment just seems depressing. I’m hoping picking her up from the kennel after work today will snap me out of post vacation funk. If not there’s always alcoholism and drug abuse.
