Inflated Thoughts

It's been an eventful week, therefore, I have more thoughts to share with you. Unfortunately, due to rising fuel costs, economic inflation and my current impoverished state, I've had to increase the charge for sharing my thoughts, to a quarter. I apologize for any inconvenience this may cause, but I can assure you, my thoughts are worth the money.

I'm ready if you are.

Thought # 1

The Aspen Bungalow has been overtaken by uninvited guests. You might call them ants, but I like to refer to them as "the-little-bastards-that-won't-go-away-despite-my-attempts-to-end-their-diminutive-lives-with-devious-traps-and-potent-poisonous-spray-solutions."

I have searched and searched my kitchen over, for any evidence of sticky, sugary goo, or crumbles of long-forgotten food hiding in the depths of linoleum and formica, that may be enticing these vermin into my personal sanctuary. Truth is, I'm a clean person. I don't say that with a cavalier attitude, either. I may even be bold enough to say that I'm the cleanest, neatest, tidiest person that any of you have ever met, and it's a borderline obsessive-compulsive condition. I abhor dirt, germs and all things filth. I am the poster-child for Purell.

So, why am I infested with ants? And even more puzzling, why can't I get them to just leave my pristine abode alone?

Thought #2

Yesterday morning, I attended the CWJC Fall Semester Kickoff, with the lady I mentor, Gladys. Gladys and I are in engaging in a group discussion with a couple of other ladies in the program, when one the ladies interrupts, looks directly at me, and says, "Hey---has anyone ever told you that you look like Mariah Carey?" Upon hearing this, I burst out laughing, and then realized she was serious. Now, I have never, ever in my lifetime, been told that I look like Mariah, therefore I found her observation a little odd.

I got to work later that afternoon, and relayed the incident to my officemate and another co-worker. Immediately as I said "Mariah Carey," both of them broke out in simultaneous choruses of agreement. Again, I am shocked by the response.

But surely I don't really look like Mariah Carey. I, once again, told the story to Lana and Sarah last night, and was met with the same, enthusiastic response: "Wow, you really do look like Mariah Carey!"

I don't see it and I'm not sure if I should be flattered or offended. Afterall, at one point in time, Mariah was a pretty girl who took care of herself and could be labeled as classy. But all of this is a moot point, thanks to incidences such as Glitter, the breakdown, and her general ho-ing around town.

Thought #3

Recently, Daily Candy sent me a link to a fantasy celebrity league, called Fafarrazi. Basically, it's like fantasy sports, except you draft celebrities and you receive points based on catfights, plastic surgeries, hookups, breakups and other public spectacles. It's kind of a sick sport, and I'm looking forward to being a part of it. I plan to create a league soon, and am extending an invitation for you to join in the fun. Email me if you're a taker!

Thought #4

The Cubmobile needs an oil change really badly, but I'm afraid to take her on down to the Firestone. Every time I go in there, they tell me that something is wrong with my car. Your first inclination might be to say, "they're a bunch of money-hungry crooks that are taking advantage of a clueless gal," but I trust them for the most part. Their diagnoses have been correct the past several times they've checked out the car (after receiving second opinions and the gold standard opinion on cars, Daddy Brown). Plus, my car isn't getting any younger.

Anyway, she needs an oil change, and I fear, a whole lot more. I am soooooo broke-phi-broke.

Thank you, and come again soon!