Thursday, April 20, 2006, 8:47 PM
I miss Jaime, Jack and Stench in the morning on Star 98.7. They were so annoying to me back in October, November and December because the main topic of conversation seemed to be about lesbianism and sex, and that's a little difficult to take at six a.m. But then they grew on me. And now they're gone because people would rather hear alternative Top 40 ad nauseam.
If I want to wear that sundress tomorrow, I have to shave my legs. I'm thinking about the benefits of getting unwanted hair lasered. And how it would be nice if my armpit and leg hair follicles magically danced themselves upstairs to my scalp. This shaving of the legs practice sucks.
So does getting up before I want to in the morning.
Any bets on whether or not I get my pictures hung in the apartment this weekend? I've said it before: I'm as lazy as Ludlum's dog that had to lean against the wall to bark. (I have no idea who Ludlam is, okay? I read it in a book.)
I've been dreaming a lot lately--mostly about sexy, long-haired men who have it for me bad (which is good), and about highlighting numbers on a page (which has to do with my job). It's making me feel warm and brainburny.
I really don't think shaving my legs is a good idea at this point.
For some odd reason, I've been reading vampire romances. Usually I avoid romance because I was weaned on romance and all shades of the romance genre tends to bore me, but I guess I'm ... bloodthirsty.
If you think about it, we all wonder (more than once in our life) about the purpose for which we are born. And if you're anything like me, you think you might know the answer some times ... and then at others, you're clueless. But me? I just hope I conquer that fear and actually do something about it before I die. I don't want to live this life over again, don't want to be Fieval the mouse again. I want to be Bond. James Bond.