wash your hands, kevin

This morning I was stopped in traffic for a long time. Next to a bag of oatmeal chocolate chip cookies. I only ate two, although one of the two was extra large. I also only sent two "I'm bored, save me" texts. As though the recipients would call with a list of jokes to keep me laughing for ninety minutes because they have nothing better to do. I made it thirty minutes listening to real news before switching to celebrity news (Paris Hilton was caught with cocaine in Las Vegas). I saw the guy in front of me spill something, freak out, then spend ten minutes cleaning it up. We didn't move at all during that time. And even though we were moving at an average speed of 7mph, the old couple to my right never went over 3. I didn't swear, though I did sing off key.

harmony

We've been watching MadMen. A lot. We talk about the characters as though they were a. real, and b. our friends. Everytime Don does something naughty it breaks my heart. My heart is constantly broken. It sounds unhealthy. Obsessive. I guess it is. But what a ride.

Also, this weekend I became the first person to hold a StarWars lunchbox and kiss a cute boy.

*Not an actual fact, just a probably pretty accurate assumption.

You can drop the voice

I forget that kids aren't sipposed to talk to strangers. Sometimes I talk to kids. Kids I don't know. Making me a stranger. If you say "I like your pants" to some one your own age, they're flattered. If you say it to an eight-year old, they're scared. But her pants were super cute. Green pants. Why was I around an 8 year old? We were both waiting for the crossing quard to give us the ok before continuing across the intersection. When we parted ways she looked over her shoulder just to make sure I wasn;t following her. At least it's good to know that kids these days are cautious. Maybe I should start doing my hair before stepping outside, and lessen the fear factor.

Hey, you've got to hide your love away

My mobile telephone has died. Or is dying. I can no longer make calls, and I'm assuming I can no longer receive them, though I might just be telling myself that.
This has been a long time coming. There was the Perrier accident of Summer 2009. A cap not screwed on correctly, a full bottle of sparkling water, a wet bag, and the loss of all camera functionality. Then there was the back pocket of incident of Fall 2009. I won't get too graphic, but I will tell you that there was a body of water, some pants, some almost flushing, and that it was suspiciously similar to the hair brush incident of June, 2010. More recently was the "sat on the phone" episode wherein I discovered that the desk job has changed my body mass more than I would like to admit. There are also the innumerable droppings, mashings, and losings of the phone, each recovery more miraculous than the one before. But this cat is at the end of life 9, and it's time to find a replacement. I know that I don't do well with replacing one beloved figure with another just like it, as evidenced in my love for Steve, Hermit Crab #1, and apthy for Carl, Hermit Crab #2. (in my defense, Carl was not very friendly). I should probably not get another Sony Ericsson flip phone because I will eventually stop feeding it and cleaning it's cage until it sinks into its shell, never to emerge again.
I don't want a phone smarter than I am, though I would like to play Angry Birds. Suggestions please.

four horsemen

I don't care for feelings. I especially don't care for blogging about feelings. But guys, I need the advice of the interwebs.
I don't know what to do with my life. Cliche, sure, but it's become my cliche.
I know I want to go to grad school. I just don't know what kind.
I might go to law school. I'll for sure take the LSAT, cause I might as well. But do I want to be a lawyer? Do I want to wear nylons everyday?
For a long time I though I wanted a creative writing MFA. But do I? Do I want to be one of those writers that no one reads because they write like they have an MFA?
Maybe I should just shoot straight for retirement and open a floral shop and spend all day with the Hollycocks and Bells of Ireland.

Interwebs, guide me.

need a bigger boat

This morning I saw a family on their way to the first day of school. There were four children yelling, one with his back pack stuck in the front door, another with a pet bird on his finger, and a very frazzled looking mother waiting in the car. I was so jealous. I want to go to school. Not necessarily the third grade, but I would like to start writing assignments in my crisp new planner I'll lose a week later, buy $425 worth of books I'll read a third of and play the name game with strangers whose names I'll forget and fail to learn all semester. I want to buy chocolate almonds from the bookstore candy counter. I want to run to campus cause I'm late.
I know that 5 monthes ago I couldn't wait to get on with my life. Damn hindsight.

Fancy Footwork

I don't have an explanation for my recent animal obsession. All I know is that I want a puppy real bad. But we live in an apartment and both work full time, so all I have are dreams. That's not to say that I don't check KSL often or read up on all sorts of breeds or argue with Stephen about which dogs are classified as boy dogs. We both finally agreed that the Bull Terrier, picture above, would be just right. Someday.