Neosporin Scar Solution Sheets: Weird, and sticky.

My resume: Still boring. Hate it.

Paris Hilton: Too stupid to live. Proof that money can’t buy class.

My toenails: Fabulous. The polish I bought yesterday is bee-yoo-ti-ful.

Blogging for Books: Making my brain hurt.

My son: Deliciously fuzzy and vulnerable with a fresh haircut. I nearly ate him up a dozen times today, and he went to bed just before I tried to get him to promise never to grow up.

Tap shoes in the correct size: Purchased this afternoon amidst heavy guilt, after having been told for the second time that the ones I found at Goodwill are too big even with socks on.

My daughter: Caught an hour after bedtime, in the bathroom, with a hand mirror and a guilty expression. I have no idea.

“Sex and the City” on TBS: Creating angst. Sex or Whose Line? Whose Line or Sex? I need more television time, clearly.

My mailbox: Possessed. Opens randomly.

Monster Networking: On crack. “Monster thinks you should meet the following people! Joe, a taxidermist! Susie, a mortician! And Pat, a fortune teller!”

Silver nitrate: So gross, I can’t even say. Unnatural things are happening. Make it stop.

Moths: All over my house. Annoying.

My fifty-seven phone calls to a “friend” who is supposed to be helping me make an important job contact: Still unanswered.

Weekend plans: Include meeting the lovely Jilbur. I am giddy with anticipation.

This list: Random. All done.