Ke$ha’s New Album:
I don’t know why Ke$ha is always going on about how much she sucks. She kind of does, but she really doesn’t. Her songs are catchy and the lyrics aren’t just random words thrown together with a nice beat–they can be rather good. I’ve always wanted to be a bit like her, but never will be. Crazy, partygoer, Orange County resident, covered in glitter–sounds marvelous and exhausting. Her new album is really quite good. Lyrically and musically. My favorite is the beginning of “Love Into The Light.” Her voice can be beautiful. Unexpected. Give it a listen.
Bless you, Spotify!
There is nothing more glorious or beautiful than a home with hardwood floors. Rugs are acceptable, but carpet makes me weep. It’s full of dust and dirt and hair and spills and crumbs and I don’t want to know what else. It’s vile. And if you don’t vacuum with regularity–eeeeew! I can’t even! In my house, every single room had wall to wall carpet. I’m remedying that. First, I tore out the revolting green carpet in my lounge and tossed it out the window. Then I cut out the disgusting brown carpet in the kitchen and threw it out the window. I really enjoy throwing carpet out of windows, it’s way more satisfying than the door. This weekend I did something I’ve been wanting to do for years and years and years and removed the carpet from the parlor. Finally, beautiful hardwood floors. They’re over a hundred years old and they show it, but they are infinitely nicer than the dark brown carpet that covered it previously. I washed the wood many times and I’m so pleased. It’s scratched, has gaps, and stained in places, but it’s still much lovelier. I want to repaint this room, too. Perhaps I will do it over break? After that, maybe I’ll do the bathroom or the living room. I’ll make my home beautiful and fill it with Sharkey Grey! Thank you, Martha!
Sweet Jesus, this picture has turned me into a pile of goo. I love cats. I love big cats and small cats and fluffy cats and bald cats and healthy cats and sick cats and wild cats and tame cats and old cats and newborn kittens! I just adore them. I’m completely a cat person. I occasionally am fond of a dog, but they just don’t do much for me. My late Shadow was an exception, but he was still pretty stupid. He didn’t have the elegance of my Tiger. I adore Tiger. I refuse to accept that he’s getting older. He won’t die. And if he does, I’ll just get him stuffed and put him back on his chair. I have always wanted a pet lion. I’m convinced that I would be perfectly safe around him or her. Can you declaw a lion? I would have to find a specialty vet who takes bribes, I guess. It could be wonderful. We could go for walks and I’d comb his mane. I’d brush his teeth and take his picture constantly. I can’t wait to have my lion!
I have a master plan to become the owner of a penthouse. This shouldn’t be that hard, but sadly I don’t have any credit. I’ve never borrowed money and I don’t have any debts at the bank, so my credit is nonexistent. That’s unfortunate, since I can’t borrow the paltry sum of money I need to get the wonderful building. I decided to get myself some credit. So, I signed up for a credit card and used it to make my first purchase yesterday–a fancy espresso machine! It’s going to be glorious! I will keep building my credit until they beg me to take their money at a low rate and I will say, “Yeah…alright.”
This might just be the greatest invention of all time. I’ve been a massive fan of eBooks long before they became trendy. I remember the first ereader I ever saw–some massive thing by RCA. It was bigger than a book. I don’t think it ever took off.
Isn’t that just ridiculous? It was the epitome of technological chic back then. I wonder what we’ll think of our sexy iPads in a few years? Today, though, technology is wonderful. We can read on all of our devices! I have a Kindle, plus the Kindle app on my iPad and on my cellphone and on my iPod, too. Reading is so convenient now. I don’t like buying books any more than I like buying music, so I’m so pleased that libraries are now lending eBooks. I can’t wait for their catalog to grow ever larger so that I won’t ever need a real book again. I love a good book, don’t misunderstand me, I love the smell and feel of it and the font and the paper, but the convenience of a digital book far outweighs that for me. I only buy books on clearance now, which is a bit sad for my shelves. When I finally do build a library in my penthouse (still working on that, but I’ve chosen the room and design–think of the King’s Library at the British Museum) I’ll have to go book shopping. I assume this will require a trip to Paris to buy antique books from the vendors along the Seine and then a raiding of Barnes & Noble to fill my shelve. But, until that time, I’ll happily read my eBooks.
I wasn’t meant to work. I was meant to luxuriate and live my life pursuing my passions and interests. It’s a crime that I don’t just wander the world, collecting trinkets and ideas and then incorporating them into something. That I can’t sit by the pool and think under the shade of a palm tree is ridiculous. I don’t mind working, I just don’t like having to do it. I don’t like having to do anything. Even if I like it, I don’t like having to do it. I can’t wait for retirement. It’s going to be great. I’m going to be in the tropics. Maybe I’ll buy a citrus grove. There will be a warm pool. There will be a tiger or a lion maybe a chatty macaw. I’ll have staff. I can’t wait (to not work.) There was a quote in Gone With the Wind about Ashley that fits me perfectly, “His hands were not made for work or his body for anything but broadcloth and fine linen. God intended him to sit in a great house, talking with pleasant people, playing the piano and writing things which sounded beautiful and made no sense whatsoever.” Me.
No Pita Pit in Des Moines:
I love the Pita Pit! I’ve only been once, but that marvelous experience has forever cemented it in my mind as the greatest fast food experience of my life! We have one in Ankeny and one in Ames, but I never go to Ankeny or Ames, I’m always in Des Moines. I hope they build one soon so that I can have delicious falafel whenever I want it. I’m passionate about falafel. I really am loving Middle Eastern food–as long as there’s nothing dead in it, cause, you know? Vegetarian.
Never Having Visited Egypt:
I’m just crazy about Egypt! I know that there are lots of things wrong with the government and many social issues that I heartily disapprove of. Sad, though that is, I must go and see the monuments and tombs and temples and pyramids. I want to bribe the guard to let me climb to the peak of the Great Pyramid and watch the sunrise (though the thought of me being conscious at sunrise is laughable). I want to see the tombs of the pharaohs in the Valley of the Kings. I want to wander for hours in the Cairo Museum. I want to learn Arabic and work on a dig, sifting through the sand for trinkets and pottery shards. I love it! I want to learn to read hieroglyphics and translate fragile papyrus. I want to learn more about their religion and how it developed. Gah! I just want to go!
My Albino Skin:
This summer, I had a beautiful tan. I loved sitting out in the sun collecting the rays. My thighs had color for the first time in my life. But then the autumn came and it all faded away. Not all of it, there are still faint lines around certain areas, but I want my tan skin back. I’ve been thinking about tanning. I know it’s bad for you and it’s a bed of death and everything, but I have no vices at all in my life. At this rate, I’m going to live forever. I need to do something that’s bad for me once in awhile. Plus, I’ll be gorgeous. I like the look of pale men, but I think I look better with color. I like using self tanner, it smells so good to me. I think I’m alone in this. Maybe I’ll get a spray tan?
Not Working Out:
Normally by now, I would have lost all the weight I gained in Paris gorging on pastries and bread and ravioli and massive bottles of Oasis, but a tragic combination of my neverending illness and the onset of my self diagnosed seasonal affective disorder had rendered me a hopeless pile of flab. Okay, perhaps not, it’s only four pounds, but I still feel it. I can’t find the motivation to go out into the cold and cross the street and unlock the door of our other house to turn on the lights and then get on the treadmill. The thought of it fills me with a great sense of loathing. Plus, the only thing that really motivates me on the treadmill is the chance to loudly and beautifully sing. My illness has trashed my voice. It hurts to speak. I really should get this looked into. This weekend, though, I’m going to try and lose that weight. It shouldn’t be all that difficult, it isn’t much. Perhaps I’ll be more willing to cross the street in the daylight? Probably not.