Recycling

I admit that my costume ideas are a little bit lamespice this year. It's all an attempt at being green. Reduce Reuse Recycle = my Halloween motto.

Idea 1- Redo the Facebook costume from 2 years ago.

here we are "updating my profile"

Idea 2- Steal slash recycle my friends' costume idea from 2 years ago and dress as a NYC tourist.

I heart NY t-shirt is a must, plus fanny pack and map. Add sneakers to complete the look.

If I can get some others to join me, we can be a tour group complete with a big red umbrella.

Idea 3- Get inspired by you for a new plan.

I have no picture for this idea. So probs it won't be happening. That's how I roll. Also it's not green to do something new. Everybody knows that.

As evidenced by last year's Halloween posting, I'm kind of a lazy costumer. This is supposed to be a kiddie holiday anyway, right?

Not in NY. Here it is all about the grown-ups getting into some late night tricks and treats.

Do adults dress up where you're from or do you let the kids have all the fun? Do you have a go-to costume?

Safety 1st

Crossing the street can be a very dangerous thing to do.

During my morning commute last week, I witnessed a man walking across the street while a turning SUV sped up as if to hit the pedestrian. It was a very near miss, and the pedestrian was angry. I was angry too. This is New York and there are pedestrians everywhere, so drivers need to pay attention lest they hit one. And on the Upper Eastside, I do not tolerate this sort of behavior. Obvi.

Generally though, when a near-miss happens, Mr. Driver realizes that he nearly killed someone and takes a second to apologize or look embarrassed, or at least has the decency to drive off quickly.

Not this time.

This time, Mr. Driver slowed down to yell at the pedestrian! And as the shocked witness, I can tell you that it was clearly the driver's fault in this instance.

This time, Mr. Driver even pulled over and parked. He was clearly looking for a fight but the victim of his recklessness had already escaped, thank God. Fighting on the UES is base and therefore not tolerated. Unless previously contracted and agreed upon by yours truly, or outside of a bar on 2nd Avenue past 11pm.

As the solid citizen that I am, I noted this A$$hole's license plate so that he can be banned from further UES maniacal antics and banished to Midtown where he belongs. Get this... it was a vanity plate!

It read:

RUDE1

I die.

This is so perfect.

And now you know, if someone has a NY plate that says RUDE1, you should egg his black SUV whilst keeping in mind that Mr. Driver is looking for fights and will most likely try to kill you.

subway horror story

I stepped onto the subway this morning to a horrifying (yet not uncommon) sight. Picture this. A teenage boy and girl in an intimate embrace. Holding onto each other rather than the bar. And then they made out. Like teenagers in a dark movie theater. Except they were on the train with a myriad of commuters and an Uptown Girl. Hi.

This behavior is not ok.

It is a Monday morning. Were you aware?

I now realize why, when I was in high school, adults on the train hated my friends and me(!). At the time I thought "they" were ageist freaks! Now I know that it is the other way around: teenagers are little psychopaths trying to ruin my Monday. Technically I already knew this tried and true fact, but it seems like fresh information right now.

I will not let this ruin my day. I will move on and forget the inappropriate PDA that started my work-week. I will get a lot of work done. I will persevere. I will pledge to end the week with some PDA of my own.

Why should the teens get to have all the fun?

ghost-town

Oops.

Work has been busy and consuming this week. And so has my social calendar.

Please forgive me for my unscheduled absence in the world wide web. I think of you often and have a couple posts rolling around in my head. But no time to write them!

I'm heading out to see an outdoor screening of Ghostbusters tonight. I'm sure this excursion will add itself to my list of ideas to post about. I hope it proves to be as amazing and life-like as it was in my childhood. Bill Murray was cute then, right? I don't recall.

I should end this by saying "I ain't afraid of no ghost". But that would be a lie. I'm afraid of ghosts and serial killers. And Monday mornings. And Brooklyn.

Here I come weekend!

can't focus

I can't focus all of a sudden

although I need to get some work did

like it's* nobody's business.

NEED-TO-FOCUS

Just thought you should know.

.

.

*can someone please explain how to use it's versus its?

off track blogging

I read a great quote in "Women's Fitness" today. I decided I would blog about it. I then gave the magazine away. Oh well... I do have multiple issues piled up in my apartment of that and several other magazines.


I don't even remember subscribing to "Women's Fitness"(to be fair: I am a woman, and I do care about fitness). Allegedly I sign up for mags on the daily. It's kinda my thing. But, I don't always read them slash I have a two and a half foot pile of old mags to reduce, reuse, and recycle.


Moral of the story: I don't have that quote for you but I do have an old issue of Redbook with your name on it. Would you like to read all about the freshest winter holiday decorations in Elle Decor? I'm your girl. I'm also offering some Easter coloring books complete with bunnies and eggs colored in a lifelike way with pastel crayons by yours truly (and my roomies) last spring. We're a very artistic bunch. Just saying.

At least I can type

I'm at work with laryngitis (one symptom of my current allergy cocktail). It is pretty hilarious actually. My job is about 75% talking on the phone to patients, insurance companies, pharmacies, and medical professionals. Today? Zero percenta talking on the phone. I'm listening to messages and asking other people in the office to make calls for me. Bossing others around happens to be one of my best sports. In the meantime, I'm getting lots of backed-up paperwork done, sending faxes, and emailing (work-related of course).

I just saw one of the doctors in the hallway and attempted to give him a message. He asked me "do you have something wrong with your voice?"... since I was basically whispering. I told him I have laryngitis and the doctor replied, "oh ok, cuz I thought you were worried about people snooping". In a medical practice everything goes back to HIPAA. Always.
.

Most everyone at work that finds out about my disappearing voice has said, "oh, were you doing something fun this weekend?" To which I respond by whispering, "yes, but nothing that would make me lose my voice". I mean, what fun activity would make me go hoarse? A heavy metal concert? This isn't the early '90s. I have yet to think of any other fun voice losing activities but maybe I'm just lacking creative juices today. Studies show that creativity and voice are linked traits 83% of the time. I just made that up to show I have mad creative skills even on an off day.

A Taxing Experience

How am I supposed to know how to file these taxes? I'm no accountant. But TurboTax isn't quite as helpful as I hoped.

I worked three Saturdays for a medical group witnessing as lots of people suffered through colonoscopies on my watch. It turns out that 1) I hate working Saturdays in the summer and 2) I need to eat at regular intervals or I get pretty cranky. Even if all my patients are having colonoscopies. I still have a healthy appetite. Yeah, that per diem job taught me a lot. But that is not what I'm here to tell you.

I'm here to tell you that taxes were not taken out of my paycheck and I am now trying for the life of me to sort this out. TurboTax thinks I am self-employed. I tried telling the TurboTax Virtual Assistant about my problem, but that biotch Tina was no help at all. Well, the convo went a little something like this...

You (Uptown Girl) said:

I was in no way, shape, or form performing colonoscopies out of my apartment. I don't run a small business, I promise.

Tina said:
I'm sorry, but I didn't understand your question. Please try restating it using different words and I'll try to find you an answer.

I am a computer, not a person, so please keep your question short and ask one question at a time.

Rude.

I may have to go pay H&R Block to help me file these taxes. I have this hang-up about filing my taxes the right way and not getting arrested or something down the line. I think it stems from the time I went out with a tax attorney (a one date wonder) and let me tell you, those IRS guys are pretty darn serious about taking all the money from my paychecks as is legal.

date recap continued... a recap recap

Remember yesterday when I described Bachelor #2? Well he has since changed his tune. Probably after somehow finding my blog or catching a glimpse of me on TMZ.

Not two hours after I posted about the lack of follow-up to our date, Bachelor #2 texted me. I was half excited and half annoyed. I mean, I had just flipped that little imaginary switch in my mind that internally ended things with the Pilot (since he had flown out of sight).

I waited until after work to text back. We texted back and forth maybe 2 texts each and then Mr. Pilot answered my Q (about what cities he was flying to) kind of bluntly. He answered but didn't ask me a question. And I didn't know what to say, if I should text back, or if I should leave it at that. I was lost in the texting world and in need of some guidance. I needed a texting expert.

Once I was home hours later, I discussed the situation with my sister Liza. We couldn't figure out what was going on and Liza said, "Bina would know!". So, I called my teenage sister, Bina, to get her advice. At 14-and-a-half she is Queen of the Text after all. I knew she would know proper texting etiquette. Bina told me that she would be insulted by the last text, but that since the Pilot started the texting this offset that last response cancelling it out. Bina expertly formulated my next text, including an aloof line letting the Pilot know that I was now at home (in hopes he might call rather than text), and asking if he was looking forward to his trip.

His response was again a conversation ender. "Yes very excited..." I quickly forwarded this to Bina who wrote:
Bina- "did he do the dot dot dot?"
Uptown Girl- "yep"
Bina- "ok dump him like a hot tamale"
UG- "Hah! k"
Bina- "well unless u really like him and u r willing to work it out"
UG- "Maybe if he ever calls"
Bina- "ok well keep shining little flower"
UG- "I'm a star!"
Bina- "yay fly little bird fly! :)"

What is with this texting epidemic? I am not a fan. I mean, I text. I text for informational purposes, in addition to real conversations on the phone and face-to-face. Not as a sole means of communication. It is so impersonal. And so confusing.
I'm thinking: What did that dot dot dot mean?
Thinking: Was I supposed to text back?
Thinking: Was that a goodbye?
Thinking: Why am I picking apart this ellipsis punctuation?
Thinking: Why don't I add "Total Eclipse of the Heart" to my iPod?
Thinking: Why am I texting this guy at all?
Thinking: Why doesn't he use his actually voice to talk to me?
Thinking: I'm done with the Pilot. Again. Unless maybe he calls me for real. Fo shizzle my nizzle lemon drizzle.

Phewf. Glad that's done. And I'm grateful to my besties and sisters and faithful blog followers for all the support and advice during the beginning stages of insanitydating. I've discovered that I hate the early stages of dating. And the middle. And the end. I may turn down all future men and dates and stick to my stalkers like Jenna on 30 Rock.

post this

Do you ever feel like there are lots of things you want to accomplish - and you really do want to accomplish these things - but you just forget, don't have the time, or don't take the time?

You do? Well then, welcome to my life.

My to-do list seems to have grown from 1 mile long to 6 miles. It imploded really.

Last night I got home, sat on the couch, and watched tv. I then got up, reheated food from the night before, sat back down on the couch, and watched tv. I then grabbed my laptop, sat back down on the couch, sent an email or two, and watched tv.

What is wrong with this picture? No, the screen was not fuzzy.

This morning I woke up and remembered the way I had pictured last night going.... (yes, in my head I have a picture of how my plans will turn out). It looked more like this: go home, go for a run, eat dinner, work on my taxes online, post on my blogizzle, and then watch a little tv.

On the way home however, I noticed that the sidewalks were super icy and decided not to run and risk certain death. And when I initially got home and sat on the couch I forgot the entire rest of the plan!

ARGH. Argh-city. Come on brain, can't you do a little better than that?

I guess this is why I put sticky post-its on my phone. To remind me of what my brain forgets so quickly. Some people tease me about my post-its, but they're just jealous. Right?

snowday

Yes, I am at work and this is the view out my window. There are somewhere between 6 and 200 inches of snow falling out there. Blustery blizzards.

I will get back to trying to FB stalk you blog hopping work now as you contemplate whether I am a very dedicated employee or I just don't want to use vacation time slash rack up more "incidents".

ps- Sorry about that poor picture quality. The papa-razi are taking a snowday so I had to use my crap camera phone to take that image. Lo siento.

pps- Just heard some jerk in the hallway saying "yeah, the snow is supposed to really pick up around 4". It is now 3:40pm. Great.

FB freeze

Facebook changed their format... again. What the what is going on?!?

This may interrupt my scheduled afternoon FB stalk. It's a good thing I deal with change moderately well or this could really be a problem.

I apologize ahead of time for not commenting on that adorable pic of your baby wearing a new bib or something equally cute. And I'm sorry I won't know about your new boyfriend or that you got married... I will prob miss that status update (Ok, and if that is the way I learn of your status I don't know you well enough to care anyway).

No time to figure out the new lamespice system today. Workie workie.

Minced? Yep.

I'm sure you've seen a zillion and a half annoying obnoxious commercials. I know I have. But with the invention of DVR I can just skip right past them. Fast forward the horror. Or at the very least I can press the mute button. Because, hello... I'm an Uptown Girl. I don't do commercials if it is at all possible to avoid them. It is beneath me and everything I stand for.

But, sadly, even Uptown Girls have to watch a commercial now and then. In a scenario such as this:

I am getting ready for work in the morning and doing my hair or make-up (I guess that answers your lingering question- its Maybelline) and Good Morning America is on in the background. And the commercials start, and I can either stop what I'm doing to change the channel, or let them play on. It is quite the conundrum. This is one of the many occasions when I tell myself how helpful it would be to have a servant. I inevitably listen (from the bathroom where I am using the straightener) to multiple ads about medications for depression, urinary incontinence, or asthma medications I should talk to my doctor about. I can scarily repeat some of the lines word for word.

One commercial that I have seen one too many times is this vile ad for fishsticks...




It makes me mad every.single.time.
Serio?! How this helps sell Mrs. Paul's fishsticks is beyond me. If I were a fishstick kind of girl (which I'm not) I'd boycott the product. And if I were that mom I'd probably go out there and buy some more minced fishsticks to serve that ungrateful brat at every meal. Its a good thing that child is just acting because otherwise I'd predict a future of drama queendom and bi-otch central. What 4 year old even knows the word minced? I'm not sure I have a clear understanding of the definition of minced and I'm an adult. Sort of.

Dear Sam Champion,

[view from my office window today]

Dear Sam Champion,

It is raining today. And quite chilly. I had to wear my pea coat and carry an umbrella. I forgot my rainboots at home. Lamespice. But, Sam, I am 80% ok with that because in exchange for crap weather today I have a special request...

If its not too much trouble, I'd like you to make sure it is nice and sunny all weekend. That means no rain from Friday afternoon until Monday morning. Rainy days and Mondays always get me down, and I really would like a kickin weekend.

I'd really appreciate it if you'd arrange some sunshine for me, Sammy.


xoxo,


<3 Uptown Girl <3

about the day I met John Turturro

Today I had this vivid memory of an odd experience from a few years back.

version 1:

Yes, John Turturro the award winning actor wanted to meet this Uptown Girl. He asked his people to contact my people because he had heard so much about me and wanted to set up a meeting. I agreed to coffee, but only coffee. Mr. Turturro then asked if we could take a photo together. I regretfully declined.

I have another version of this same story to share with you. This is an exercise for your benefit, so that you can use those critical thinking and problem solving skills. Research shows that brain teasers prevent Alzheimer's, so you can thank me with flowers or chocolates.

version 2:

I had just completed a successful second round of interviews and was hired for my (then) new job. As I waited for the bus to come, I started talking to the man next to me. He commented on the desserts I was eating at the bus stop, and the conversation went on from there. I told this gentleman of about 50 years that he looked familiar, that he reminded me of an actor. And he told me in hushed tones that he was in fact an actor, and asked me to guess his name. I guessed Roberto Benigni.

[Roberto Benigni]

But he said he was John Turturro. That sounded very familiar but I couldn't place the name at the time.

[John Turturro]

Mr. Turturro and I rode the long bus ride from the Upper Eastside to Midtown West, where I was to meet my eX. I asked Mr. T a little bit about acting because I have a brother who hopes to become a successful actor one day. I got Mr. T's autograph for said brother. However, Mr. T did not want to talk much about his craft.


Mr. T suggested we have dinner. I reminded him that I was on my way to meet my eX, and then I agreed to coffee at a cafe about a block from where I was headed so that the eX could come meet him, too. We drank our coffee, but as soon as the eX texted that he was rounding the corner, Mr. T had to rush off. They didn't get to meet.


And the eX was angry. Very angry that I would even think to go to coffee with another man. Even John Turturro. Even a man who was over twice my age. Even a man who knew about the eX and was waiting to buy him a cup of coffee.


We made it home (fighting) and I looked up John Turturro in Google Images. Oh, I was so conned. The lovely man who kept me company for the afternoon was not in fact Mr. T at all. He does not ride this bus in order to "be one with the people of NY". The real Mr. Turturro does not have a foreign accent.



Oops.


This is the lesson I learned: men blow everything out of proportion, so it is unwise to let them know when you make a mistake until after you check the facts. And even then, just don't tell them if you don't have to. I should've waited until I verified that coffee was with the real John Turturro before divulging that information (if at all). Now I know how to play my cards right. Also, babs.


I also stopped talking to strangers on public transportation (unless they are in my personal space unnecessarily, but that is a different kind of conversation). And when I see the fake Mr. T sitting at that same bus stop, I look the other way. And when I see confirmed celebs in public, I don't often go to coffee with them.


And there you have it friends, one story, two versions. You decide. Choose your own adventure.

its been lovely but I have to scream now

It is Friday afternoon and my brain is fried. Like that commercial about eggs and what they look like fried. My brain feels like fried eggs right now. Well done.





I am exaggerating a little bit (if you must know). I only have a few minutes left before I can leave this desk and this computer and this headset behind for the *weekend* and go see my nyc friends after work at happy hour. I say nyc friends to differentiate between groups: nyc friends, college friends, childhood friends, virtual blogger friends... imaginary friends, etc. You know. And sometimes the groups overlap.





But, back to my brain. Right now it feels like it might explode if it isn't set free from this headset that makes me look like a telephone operator out of "Lassie" and totally flattens my hair with a vengeance. Why do I wear it? Easy- so I don't get a crick in my neck from talking with the regular phone and so I can have two hands free for typing at all times. AKA- so I can blog as I wait on hold for hours talk on the phone.





On and off all day I've been speaking with the various representatives of Caremark Specialty Pharmacy about a case I started with them three weeks ago. These very nice people are driving me mad. I am so ready to forget about them and how useless they have been and how I will probably have to cancel a patient's appointment because I will not have the pt's medicine here in time to inject next week. You should keep in mind that Caremark Specialty Pharmacy has very irritating music playing while you hold. And they like making you hold. A lot.





I lied. There is one representative who is trying to help me. Her name is Charlotte. She even gave me her direct phone number. I want to bake cookies for Charlotte and bring them to her in whatever Southern state she works. Alas, even after Charlotte's hard work on my case, I still haven't made any headway on this problem today. None. I could scream.

I would really like to get this mug and keep it on my desk. Just looking at it makes me smile and cackle softly. And I imagine the mug will come filled with KitKats and M&Ms. I will buy it as a gift for myself one day soon.

Needless to say, my brain is looking forward to a long two days off. No more thinking. No more trying to remember things that I'd much rather forget. No more working! yippee!!


So, yay me. I made it thru my last bit of work and I'm officially free. God Bless America!

I still love technology

Yes i love technology

But not as much as you, you see

But i still love technology

Always and Forever

[lyrics by Kip Dynamite]

Computers officially hate me. Just thought you should know this. For awhile it was just a theory, but it has now become fact.

My personal laptop died the day after I moved in February. And my desktop computer at work is in the application process for a hospice program. I have fallen way behind in my blog reading because when I click on certain blogs all of my internet windows will shut down. Simultaneously.
Generally if a blog has music or a video that plays automatically, I cannot access the blog without certain and imminent death to my screen. The screens freeze then close out.

Also, I can only gchat at a bare minimum before my computer is overwhelmed. Unacceptable.

I have the oldest version of every possible program and no hope of any IT guy fixing my computer or updating my programs. Why you ask? Thank you for asking. The programs I need to do my actual work are not affected. And the IT guys I've met aren't cute or hunky anyways. I know that was your next question. Our minds think alike.

Do any of you loyal followers have useful suggestions or funny insights?
As of now I see my options as follows:

1. make sure to back up all my files and then wait for a slow and painful computer death.
2. make sure to back up all my files and then pour coffee into my computer by mistake.
3. make sure to back up all my files and then take the computer tower out back and beat it with an aluminum baseball bat. Oh and I'll take care of this crappy-arse-excuse-for-a-printer-that-actually-sounds-like-a-cat-lives-inside-and-prints-pages-at-its-leisure while I'm at it.

STINKY

DEFINITION OF stinky FROM WWW.ANSWERS.COM

STINKY
v., stank (stăngk) or stunk (stŭngk), stunk, stink·ing, stinks.

v.intr.

1- To emit a strong foul odor.

2- To be highly offensive or abhorrent. To be in extremely bad repute.

3- Slang. To have something to an extreme or offensive degree: a family that stinks with money; a deed that stinks of treachery.

4- Slang. To be of an extremely low or bad quality: This job stinks.
To have the appearance of dishonesty or corruption: Something about his testimony stinks.

v.tr.
To cause to stink: garbage that stinks up the yard.

n.

1- A strong offensive odor; a stench. See synonyms at stench.
2- Slang. A scandal or controversy: “the stink over sexual politics in the military” (David Nyhan).

idiom:
make (or raise) a stink. Slang.
To make a great fuss.
[Middle English stinken, from Old English stincan, to emit a smell.]stinky stink'y adj.


Ok, so on the way to work today my nose was accosted by the odious stank of garbage. For an entire city block. I'm talking an entire east-west block very far east on the upper eastside. So, you know, it was a looooong block. A long stinky block. This is unacceptable. Would you be so kind as to contact the Mayor on my behalf?

Tell him 2 things for me:
1- hey Mike, sorry I missed dinner at the Waldorf last week, it's been a busy summer full of social engagements, you know how it is, catch you on the flipside!
2- Please correct this stinky trash smell and fill the upper eastside with pleasant scents of clean linen and gardenias. Thanks.

What definition am I using when I say that this was a stinky morning?

poetry on ice

I am a famous celebrity poet.

I like to write poetry and let my feelings and creative ideas flow. And I love to make everything rhyme.

Now, don't be fooled, I did not say that I am a talented poet. Hah! I just enjoy writing and find it cathartic in a way. Sorta like blogging. Trulio. I am way more into the blogging than he poeting these days. But I can recall a time when I wrote poems like they were going outta style. You know what was actually going out of style when I started writing poetry? Rolled acid wash jeans, worn with puffy hot pink socks that matched my electric pink t-shirt (knotted of course). That went out of style and I can't for the life of me understand why that fad has not returned.

The point of all of this nonsense is to fill you in on breaking news. In July, I was helping my mom clean out her garage (before she moved, remember?). I found a crap ton of memorabilia documenting my life. From colorful pre-K finger paintings to mementos left over from my Sweet-16. Pictures from every fancy dance I went to in high school... complete with the most frighteningly atrocious 90's dress/makeup/hair combos you can imagine... the teenage version of me looked like I was 45 years old in those get-ups... and my dates look like they should've been in romper room. Oh the bremories. They've scarred mine eyes and my head aches to even imagine the images once again.

I also stumbled upon about 594 love letters from my college boyfriend and 8,361 pictures of his 19 year old face (etc). Was he my first love? I don't really know. I consider him my first real love but know I thought I was in love at ages 5, 8, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17... you get the picture. Anyway, you'll be happy to learn that upon discovery these pictures and letters were thrown away. Not all, but most. A girl's gotta keep some evidence that she was once a teenager in love. Obvi.

I also uncovered my stash of poetry. If it can be called that. I found poems dating back to my 12 year old Jersey Girl days, written about how I felt like ... wait for it.... a BALLOON. I am oh so deep. In Eighth Grade I wrote about love, and how I would love Chris forever and ever and be apart from him never (that may or may not be a direct quote. 'Forever' and 'ever' and 'never' rhyme, right?). In high school I wrote about how I longed to be free of my parents rules. How I wanted to make my own decisions and my own mistakes.

I also wrote a love poem about my major crush (i'll call him Homeless Teen) and how I was sure it was "meant to be". Freaky. Homeless Teen barely knew I was alive and I didn't actually know him either. Just liked him from a distance and treasured my one picture with my stalkee. Bc that's what crazed teenagers do, ok? Don't judge. All I have to say to you right now is this: Before you criticize someone, you should walk a mile in their shoes. That way when you criticize them, you are a mile away from them and you have their shoes. Ok so maybe it is Jack Handy saying it to you. Take that. Pow.

Do I ever write poetry now that I'm all growed up? Thank you for asking. Yes, I do. Not often and not well. I wrote like two or three poems this year, and I don't think I wrote any last year. They come to me in spurts. Kind of like writing in my journal... I either write in it on the regular or abandon it for months into years. I find that I journal and write poetry both when I'm confused or down. To try to sort out my feelings, to get them out of my head, out of my heart, and onto the paper. When I can see the feelings in black and white they don't seem so gray (grey? i hate that there are multiple spellings of that word!!). But sometimes I make little poems in my head. I like to pretend I'm creating lyrics for a new hit song. Coming soon to imeem.... you just wait. Can you relate? <---- do you see that rhyme?? I told you I get a big kick out of rhyming! My rhymes are always simplistic and uncomplicated. Because I'm writing for the everyman... jk I'm just writing for me.

It's so involved being me.

I know I haven't posted anything today. I've been too busy in my fantabulous existence (read: working). That and my usual burst of creativity has yet to arrive today. Surprising, I know. And lamespice. So sorry to disappoint you. If you are down in the dumps and were hoping for a pick-me-up here, please see yesterday's picture of Eric Bana. That should cure all that ails you. Unless what ails you is in fact the fact that I haven't posted steamy McSteamy pics just yet. But I will, oh I will. Wait for it.

Maybe I need coffee. Or maybe you should suggest a topic that you want me to write about. And maybe I will write about that topic tomorrow.

So, what do you want to know?