Correction to last post: this lady cares what I have to say. Which is frickin' awesome. However, it's completely in my nature to start to question if I am sort of self absorbed by saying things. Yes, I am very, very insecure. Very. Blame it on middle school. I had a unibrow and a lisp. It was awesome. Lots of periods because I am pausing a lot as I say this, a la Barney Stinson. He is awesome. I wish NPH were straight or at the very least available for rent as a drinking buddy. There, I said it.
- Hotels. I love hotels. I stay at really nice hotels not because I am a snob (though I am) but because I cannot compromise when it comes to sheets and bathrooms. [shakes head violently much in the style of a six year old] How-ev-er, hotels do not like me back nowadays. Argentinean hotels seem to all have a picture of my face hanging in the corporate office, where I bear a menacing look and threaten to cut them en espanol if they dare give me long term rate if I stay for anything less than a year. Two months is a very long time, Argentina. Very. And Wisconsin, a month should get me a discount. Just saying. You are Wisconsin for crying out loud. I want to eat cheese and be near Canada and be awesome but do not charge me what you charge everyone else. If you haven't realized it I am fabulous. Okay, not fabulous, but staying for a great deal of time and somewhat whiny and entitled. Same difference.
- I may be intolerant of lactose and gluten. I am weeping into my croque monsieur. What next? Duck? Am I allergic to duck? Going for two week sans the culprits to see if my very Slynnro-esque problems resolve themselves.
- I just deleted an entire run on sentence because I have decided to put the kibosh on relationship talk permanently because I'd rather not get found out. Ditto for work. Lord, I wish I were using a pseudonym as opposed to my real first name. Can I do that? Ponder.
- Not shopping. I love to shop. I grew up with a mother who worked in corporate for a major luxury department store and got to go into work with her. Actually, she would go to work and I would get to wander around the store as if I owned it. It was kind of an Eloise goes shopping, in other words, fabulous. I got to come home with a bag every day and get my clothes tailored. Now I'm trying to practice restraint because shopping while sad is an abyss I'd rather not circle. I do not want to weep into a pair of Manolos, clutching on for dear life like that sad girl. Nuh-uh. But have you seen the sales, here, here, here and here? What about here, have you seen that? Lord. Have. Mercy. No, it is not a sale, but lingerie you can't live without. If the lovelies at Journelle say that I can't live without it, should I not be a good little customer and obey? Kate Spade had a sample sale, J. Crew brought in new summer arrivals, I keep telling myself that self control is a muscle that gets stronger the more you use it. Over and over and over again. And over. That and you are no longer a former addict, but always an addict in recovery have become my mantra.
- America's taste in books. There was a short period of time where the best seller list reflected the cream of the literary crop but now it is just an embarrassment. Twilight? TWILIGHT. We are grown women.
- Vampires. In more way than one.
- Aunt Viv writing a tell all, fifteen years later.
- Summer television, although Don effin' Draper is making his triumphant return this August (while I am away) and my TiVo quivers in anticipation as I write.
- The rain going away. Bring it back! Bring it back!
- People who complain about said rain for reasons like "flooding" and "mud" and "children who need to play" (yes, I did say all of that in my mocking 12 year old bully voice, I also called those people chowderheads under my breath and if I could I would kick them in the collective shin and run away)
- Knowing that moving is on the horizon. That sucks.
- The fact that in the next 24 hours I will be writing my Things That Are Awesome List (hint: item number one is Legen-wait for it- dary).
