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.