All Of My Days Have Been Misspent
IT IS SO FUCKING HOT HERE! I am not cut out for hotness. Not hotness as in sexiness because we all know I posess much of that, but hotness as in so fucking hot that my thighs stick together with sweat and so fucking hot that I cannot even dry my hair without needing another shower.
In other related news, I have not seen one single cicada thank god. I was under the impression that there was a severe infestation from some of my journalling friends who live in Chicago. I have instead come to the conclusion that we (journalers) are for the most part a bunch of over exaggerators. We practice it as an artform. Stories aren't interesting without a little color, or as Blanche would say, "...a little hot tub." From some peoples accounts of the cicada infestation, I was expecting them to swarm me immediately as I stepped off the plane because in most cases I posess a certain quality I like to call insect phermones. If there is something with an ectoskeleton within a mile radius of me, it will find me and chase me down like Harrison Ford in The Fugitive. "I didn't kill you friend in Seattle....I don't know what you heard. It was my husband. Sure, I ordered the hit but he is the one you are looking for" and then I jump off the cliff into a river.
As smily and happy as she looks in the informercial, I have learned that Mari Winsor is indeed some sort of fitness nazi. I just finished the Winsor Pilates Advanced workout. I was all, "I workout for 2 hours a day 5 to 6 days a week. I don't need no stinkin' beginners pilates workout." HA! If anything though, my Pilates Retardation and inability has fueled my fire. I will be able to pull my fat ass from a lying position into a full sitting up position using only my abs if it kills me. ISWEARTOGOD!
I watched Unfaithful last night. It was disturbing. Not disturbing as in it was a bad movie but disturbing as in it was such an accurate portrayl of human emotion (I believe) that when you were done watching it you felt the pain of the two people. I also felt that I needed to watch a Disney movie to scrub my soul clean of Unfaithful.
I would end this entry but my skin is plastered to the leather of the office chair in front of the computer and I fear that if I were to move, I would rip my flesh off.
Or am I just exaggerating?
