I'm crabby and experiencing a possibly-terminal case of PMS. In fact, I'm so crabby that when listening to Marianne Williamson speak about love (went to a lecture by her--great talk, great woman, by the way), I was getting irritated and hate-filled. Forget love--I want a machine gun! (How can you listen to Marianne and think about anything but love and world peace?) Anyway, here are my random thoughts on this gloomy, hormonally-challenged Wednesday:
--I thought walking the dogs a mile a day was keeping me and my heart in good shape, but I never considered that I am walking at "shih tzu" speed. Those little legs can only go so fast, so it's more like a stroll & it's only 1/2 mile at a time. Yesterday, I went walking with three co-workers. We went at a "normal human pace" for just over two miles. I'm embarrassed to say that I was sucking wind by the end and I was having heart palpitations out the wazoo. Crushes the old ego. Of course, I did not let on to this. (I could have dropped dead and I wouldn't have said a thing before it happened--pride is a very powerful motivator.) I feel dedicated to sucking wind more often. Watch out, doggies! Your little legs are gonna be a-churning!
--While walking, I also noticed a pain on my left butt cheek. Not a muscle. Something else. I get home and take a gander. God bless it, I've got a zit the size of Montana on my butt. Another day, another zit. This new medication is really something--the choice is zits and not crazy OR crazy and no zits. I guess I'll take the zits but I'm not happy about it. Speaking of zits, my chin has also broken out, just in time for me to go the hair stylist. Great. Now she can stare at all my acne while washing my hair. It's not like she'll be able to look anywhere else. It's like a train wreck--you can't look away.
--I am so happy Reese Witherspoon won an Oscar that I could just pee. Heck, her singing was better than the real June Carter. (No offense, June--but Reese had it going on.) Does this mean there won't be a "Legally Blonde 3?"
--I think my friend's daughter is the "second" Jesus. Really. The second coming. Why not a girl? This two-year-old kid is talking to people not there--well, talking to people we adults can't see. I've always heard kids can talk to angels and such and lose that talent as they get older. She's talks to angels and friends and....and...well, how the hell should I know? I can't see them! (Sorry--PMS moment. I'm calmer now.) My money is on this kid saving the world. (Maybe I'm not taking enough of those crazy pills.)
--"Dancing with the Stars" is over, my girl Stacy didn't win and "Charmed" has been cancelled. I'm sinking further into a funk. Guess that gives me more time to go walking and get in shape....
...piss on this. I gotta go get some chocolate.
No comments:
Post a Comment