Last night I was dancing around my apartment, because it had gotten to that song on the mix where you have to dance around your apartment, no matter what, when the doorbell rang. I thought that it would be Monkey and Monkey Man, very early for Top Model, but when I got to the door there was nobody there�just a bag of flowers, candy, etc., and an unsigned card. This made me really happy for about five minutes, because I am a sucker for a secret admirer. Then I realized who they were probably from, and felt somewhat deflated. When Monkey showed up we carefully examined the contents, Nancy Drew style, for clues, and came to the conclusion that the giver could be somehow connected to either Bainbridge Island, or Vermont. Or neither.
The chocolate was tasty, anyway.
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Yesterday afternoon, for the first time this millennium, I bought a pack of cigarettes, and I have this to say: Smoking is fun! Smoking is cool! I love smoking!
I actually don�t think I�ll become a real smoker again, sadly, but I had been turning into one of those sniveling nonsmokers who goes out to bars and then whines that her clothes don�t smell laundry-fresh afterwards. I had to be stopped.
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Well, Catie with a "C" got the boot on ANTM last night. Nobody ever said it was going to be easy to become America's Next Top Model.
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I seem to remember that somebody--no names, please--suggested less talking/planning and more fun a while back, which to me still sounds like a genius plan. Perhaps we could put it to a vote?
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