Jesus is mad at you.
Thursday, Aug. 26, 2004 @ 2:36 p.m.

FOURTEEN DAYS. I have been the biggest lazy wussy-ass loser with the updating lately. It�s summer, it's hot, I'm boring, you don't love me enough, I've got better things to do, I'm saving my best stuff for my book, my hands got chopped off in a freak accident. Take one and move it along.

I don't know what the issue is, but I've really been the world's most incredibly boring person lately, what with being fairly content and all. I feel like my poor journal peaked back in my temping days and has just never been the same since. I don't know what to tell you - there just aren't very many freaky people where I work now and nary a cowbell to be found. There is no spirit day here, folks, and I like it.

Home life has also been pretty tame. We've been watching the Olympics non-stop, to the point that I judged (and ran commentary) last night on Kenny's after-dinner burp-a-thon (8.5, nice extension with a double twist at the end.) Ah, the Olympics. So much better than the borefest that was the Tour this year. Here are my observations:

- Not enough Speedos. I don't feel like I can say this enough. NOT ENOUGH SPEEDOS. I mean, hell. We're talking about the .05% of the population who really can actually pull it off and they're wearing bodysuits? I feel cheated. I want my money back.

- Beach Volleyball - enjoyable girl-on-girl hijinks. Do you think they're required to wear bikinis one size too small? Do you think they do the butt-pat and full-body hugs just for the sake of my husband's enjoyment? And how cheated did I feel when we watched the men's beach volleyball and they were all wearing t-shirts and baggy shorts? Bring on the Speedos, that's what I say. Sheeit.

- Paul Hamm. Shut UP you whiny man-boy. You didn't earn it, that's why.

- Hi, the wrestler who lost a toe? Not a "hero", Mr. Commentator. If he'd lost his toe whilst saving a life, that would make for a hero. Otherwise? Just a creepy dimwit with a toe in a jar who got lost in the wilderness without a coat. Sorry.

- Note to 90% of the Olympic athletes: Jesus is BUSY. Stop acting like the heavens are simply there to help you run faster today. Also, if you lose, that clearly means that Jesus is MAD AT YOU.

- Not really a sport, but still riveting: Olympic Table Tennis. I mean, damn. It's ping-pong, right? Do they have Olympic Four-Square? Olympic Tag? Olympic Hide-and-Seek? They should.

**********

Show and Tell

Yeah, so Kenny, who knows me too well, just bought me this:

Excellent, yes? It's really, really tiny and if you go to the website, they have all manner of devil dogs and cats. You know you want one. Claudia? Christmas, she comes...

I am currently obsessed with Marc Jacobs and his handbags. If I ever met Marc Jacobs in person I'd have to slap him for making my monkey so crazy. He is simply the devil for making such perfect items and charging such obscene amounts of money for them. If you've never seen a Marc Jacobs bag in person, I don't recommend it because Saks just has them lying all over the place and once you actually touch the soft, soft leather and feel the weighty heft of the hardware, you're just gone, daddy.

Sadly, I am not an heiress so I can only stalk the bags at Saks and stand with one over my arm in front of the large mirror that's right next to a door, leading me to believe there's a Saks person back there, shaking their head sadly and also watching closely in case I decide to make a break for it.

In protest, I have recently purchased a knockoff of this Marc bag on eBay:

Which I'll post a picture of once it arrives. It's the best I'm going to do, I suppose. Bastard Marc Jacobs. Hate him so much.

That's all I've bought of late. Just wait, though. Fall is coming and my needs are many. I know you're excited.

**********

Classy.

Just to make you jealous: One of the great perks of my new job is that I can take free credit or non-credit classes. I signed up for a couple of non-creds this semester, just to ease myself in. Here's what I signed up for: "Massage Therapy" and "Your Personal Trainer". Please note: these are not classes designed to teach me how to do these things, but rather to make me the best, prettiest, shiniest version of myself. Free massage? Yes, please. Free personal trainer? Rules. RULES.

Rock on, Monkeys!

5 chatty monkeys

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