Death Please!

Day four of Headache From HELL. *chord*

No end in sight.

You remember that movie Mousehunt with Nathan Lane? What, I’m the only one? Alright, well, basically like it’s a movie about a guy who has a sweet old mansion that he’s fixing up to auction off or something, but then there’s this little mouse that WILL NOT LEAVE. And he’s tried everything to get rid of it–including hiring Christopher Walken to exterminate it–but it won’t freaking leave. So finally, at the very end, there’s a hose running in the walls of the house (I guess they planned to flood the mouse out) and the auction is happening and they are about to rake in a fortune on this place, but then, right as the auctioneer is going to pronounce it SOLD, the waters break through the walls of the mansion, the place buckles, and everyone gets blasted outside by small but powerful river of water. River? Waterfall? Jetstream? I’m not up for great descriptions tonight. THE POINT IS: My head is that house! Pressure. Pressure. PRESSURE. AAAACK! IS GON ‘SPLOOOODE!

Except that bone doesn’t buckle as easily as an old mansion, and neither do eardrums, and so I just feel this enormous pressure all throughout my skull and it just keeps building. Thursday and Friday, it was mostly around my eyes and forehead, but now it’s throbbing in my ears. And no explosion means no relief. Which I guess is good, because I don’t really fancy bringing shreds of tympanic membrane to the doctor in an ice bucket and saying, Remember Mousehunt?

Because he probably won’t remember and I’ll have to admit that actually I’ve felt pressure in my head my head for months but didn’t do anything about it because I can’t stand you creepy medical types with your cold waiting rooms and harsh fluorescent lights and the poking and prodding and–hey wait! I DID go to the doctor about this. Remember? But it wasn’t really this and maybe if I could have been examined instead of jabbed repeatedly in my face my head wouldn’t have SPLODED.

Rawr.

In other news, I cooked today. Like, real cooking, not my usual, Voila! Ze Ramen Noodles are preparrrred. Yeah. Chicken, onions, herbs, wine–the whole bit. Mmm.

When I began writing this entry, I actually had a point. I don’t anymore, so I’ll just end with this little glimpse into my life:

My parents are in Maraysia at the moment celebrating the Eid al-Adha break. They took the extra-strength Excedrin with them, and any and all trace of mom’s nasal decongestants. I guess they heard about my party plans and decided if I were writhing in pain on the couch, no one would be around to get crumbs on our Persian rug. They win. I pain.

Yesterday was day 1 of the break(ing of their daughter) and I spent half the day in bed asleep (till 12:30) and the other half downstairs on the couch, curtains drawn, wishing (loudly and, in the absence of an ice pack, with frozen rice on my head. We don’t believe in ice packs, okay?) that I were dead. I emerged only to water dad’s plants (I don’t even like tomatoes!), but then decided that they were not going to win so easily. Fine. I won’t have friends over to eat on the Precious Persian Rug, but I’ll be damned if I don’t drive the car two hundred feet to the mini-mart and buy myself a Reese’s. Oo, and these Ramen-like instant noodles look deliciously processed. TAKE THAT, ENVIRONMENTALLY CONSCIOUS PROCESSED-FOOD SHUNNING EXCEDRIN THIEVES!!

But I didn’t cook the noodles and only ate two Peanut Butter Cups (sooo good) and the pain was worse than ever.

So, I got on MSN and spent the evening whining all over a friend. And then he was like, Uh, why don’t you go to the pharmacy?

…What? Are pharmacies open past midnight.

Dude, pharmacies are open 24 hours.

Hmm. I don’t believe you. But you’ve given me a brilliant idea. *rubs hands together*

And then I tromped upstairs and reached under my bed for the little green and white E capsule that fell there three-and-a-half months ago that I was too lazy to retrieve. Moral of the story: Laziness wins! (Uh, the E capsule being Excedrin, though perhaps the other E would have been an effective sleep-inducer as well. I really wouldn’t know.)

Tonight I’m supposed to spend 4 hours finishing a transcript. It won’t happen CUZ DA EARSZZZ but–

Oh right, but the point of the picture was threefold:
I went to the store in my pajamas
With dirty hair
And no make-up (yay for sunglasses!)
Actually, it was just one-fold: To show you my pitiful condition. But actually, it doesn’t make me look pitiful at all. BLASTED SUNGLASSES!

Today, I worked out but couldn’t bring myself to change out of my workout clothes (still in ’em!)–or to shower. It’s okay though because I didn’t go out in public today, and also: my head is going to explode. So, you know, mote in the eye and all that.

And would you look at that, an MSN contact has just signed in. Ah, Therapy.

[EDIT: Yeah, so like the wine bit above? I didn’t actually drink the wine. I just cooked with it. And that’s totally Kosher. But like, Mormon-Kosher, because I’m pretty sure realy Kosher allows for the enjoyment of whine. Wine. Whatever.]

Thanksgiving: Breakdown and Wrap-up

Today was Thanksgiving. I celebrated it at the mall with my mom for the first half of the day, then at a different mall with some friends the second half of the day. No one did any cooking (well, my dad made some popcorn. And mom baked cinnamon rolls, so I guess some sort-of cooking was done.) so we didn’t even eat together.
Today being what it is and all, I suppose I should be seguing-way into the obligatory “I am thankful for…” Thanksgiving Blog Post, but I’m not going to. I didn’t celebrate T-day this year, and that is that. [But to everyone who did: Happy Thanksgiving! I hope it was great.]

This morning I got up at nine because we were all supposed to hold strong with the Thanksgiving Day Tradition of Seeing a Movie, but the Informant is no longer in theaters (anyone see it? I am so bummed I didn’t) and after reading reviews on Rotten Tomatoes, Dad decided seeing Where the Wild Things Are was a bad way to spend two hours (hah! Not even two hours! 94 minutes! yeesh) so it was just me and my madre. I wanted to see This Is It (for the third time! It’s so good) but instead we walked around a mall for like 4 hours, and all I got out of it was a mouse and a stupid headset that doesn’t even work!

Speaking of stupid headsets that don’t work: does anyone have Skype? Because WOW. I mean, I’ve used it before but I just forgot how stunning it is! It is better than phone quality, and I am in the Middle East where internet sucks, so it’s really saying something that Skype’s quality is stunning. STUNNING! But do you know what is not stunning? My beloved PowerBook G4. It is 5 years old in computer years, which is what, like…150 in people years? Yeah, and it’s not doing so well. It isn’t even external microphone capable! Can you believe it? UGH. I wish I had known that before I went to the trouble of buying TWO. *idiot*

Also, my mom got this really amazing massage-y thing for like a buck at some Japanese dollar store. It is amazing. I shall post about it some other time.

Today, I will post about ugly lamps and expensive cereal.

These are the ugly lamps:


I know that not from the brilliantly hideous display, but from the description on the price tag. What would you pay for these?

You probably don’t know this, but my favorite cereal is not Lucky Charms. I mean, I love me some Luck, but dang. There is nothing in this world quite like:


Wheat Chex. They are a bit hard to come by in the States, and more expensive than most cereal, but then I moved to the Emirates. The only place they can (sometimes) be found is at western grocery stores (never mind what I mean by that) and when I say it is expensive, I am talking *expensive*


Have you ever paid $9.25 for a (tiny) box of cereal?
Me neither.

Missed Photo Op: the bright green WTF trailers outside the mall. But THEN! I found this. Heh heh heh. I love living here.

So after the trailers, we got home, I took a nap, and then my mom woke me up to tell me Khalisah was on the phone, they’re going to New Moon in a half hour, would I like to come? Let me tell you, there are few things so annoying as being woken up from a nap ohmyGOSH. But! When it’s Khalisah, and she is inviting you to New Moon, well, forgiveness comes quickly.

I went in my pajamas mostly because I was already in them and couldn’t be bothered to change, but also because my 6 AM workout class ended two weeks ago and my pants are really taking notice. Dangit! But, I did refrain from wearing slippers. This time.

Thoughts About New Moon:

1. Loved it. Tremendously superior to Twilight, which I guess isn’t saying a whole lot since Twilight gave the impression of a 7th grade after-school project.

2. Love Jacob. Last year at this time, I was being mocked by my roommates for reading Twilight. Evidence. You punks! *shakes fist at the both of ’em* Then Megan got hooked–more hooked than I have ever been!–and here is that evidence. HEM HEM. This year, I am seeing New Moon on its first day in the UAE! YAAAAA!
But more importantly, last year at this time I was a biiiiiiig Edward fan. Like, I bought a little button from Hot Topic that said Team Edward. Because New Moon was sooooo boooooring. No descriptions of vampire-y hotness. No “I could lose control and CRUSH YOUR SKULL” romance. Just talk of a jagged hole and russet-colored fur. Gag.

But, I reread New Moon this summer and fell deeply in love with Jacob. What was I was thinking the first time through?! Jacob is so clearly, obviously, and wonderfully superior to Edward. He actually has a personality, for starters. And he doesn’t make romance all about death and accidental death and Damned Because I Am Without Soul. *Drama Queen.* Nope, Jacob is just plain cool. (And hot. Amazing how that works.)

He was so real and true to character in the movie. Bella is so lame, and Edward so wearying, and the Cullens so….not stunningly gorgeous. So many of the cast are just disappointing but Jacob! Jacob is so delightful.

3. The Volturi. Oh my gosh, The Volturi. Namely, Aro. Wow. You should all go pay to see the movie if only to see Aro because he is just so good.

4. The line, You need someone who laughs at the gore that makes weaker men vomit.
Hahaha. I normally don’t laugh at gore jokes, but Jacob, you are just so darn delightful.

5. The hair. I mean, what is it with the HAIR in this movie? It’s like the stylists know that all I want from life is deliciously-auburn hair and decided it would be fun to taunt me with it.
Bella, for all her faults, has quite possibly the most gorgeous hair I have ever drooled over. Oh my gosh. Like, I have this fantasy where I wake up one morning, and suddenly all my hair is auburn. But not just “auburn”. It’s a deep brown and with a reddish tint and in the sun: red streaks. Good heavens, I dream about this hair! I pay eight bucks every 3-6 months to have this hair for just a few weeks. And there Bella is. Her boring, dull self all over the screen with two gorgeous guys chasing after her lameness–one with the body of a freaking olympian. Who is that kid?!–and all I can think about is, Man, I want that HAIR.

Other great hair: Edward, Alice, Charlie (Charlie!) and…actually just them. Oo, and maybe Laurent, too.

6. Charlie. The unsung hero of the movie. I mean, not hero–hottie. The unsung hottie of the movie. All these young guys in their bare chests and bulging muscles overshadow Charlie’s deep brown eyes and lovely dark hair. And mustache! Who even looks good in a mustache?? Charlie. The only one in the world, I am convinced.

7. Jacooooooooooob. SOB. The end killed me. I was so sad for him, and so mad at Edward. Stupid Edward! And stupid Bella! I love money and good looks and sweet cars, but Bella. Seriously? It’s JACOB. Forget it. I can’t even look at you right now.

8. I laughed a lot during the movie. It was kind of funny, but mostly like overacted and dramatic and all those things the book was. yeesh.

So: New Moon! Yay!

And finally, Pictures:

So, like, I lost track of the post, but I once mentioned going to the movies with my mom and seeing a poster for The Rebound. The panties (isn’t that an awful word?) in his mouth had been blacked out with a marker, which of course we found hilarious.

Well, tonight at a different mall there was this version of the poster:


Instead of a marker over panties (ekh!), a rose. How tactful.

This is me, objectifying Jacob.


*whoo*

And finally, the whole gang:

And that was the only take! I am an awesome single-handed self-photographer.

Not My Words, But Definitely My Feelings

From Girlsinc.org

Dear World,

To most people it’s simple: man, woman, boy, girl. But I wonder, when the word “girl” comes out of your mouth, is what I’m about to say what you think of?

Being a girl you’re expected to look, act, just be a certain way. In the world today if you aren’t stick skinny, have the right bone structure, walk this way, and talk that way, you’re not accepted. For example, how many girls do you know who have won a karate tournament against all boys, cheerlead, hip-hop dance, is a “drama geek”, and maintains honor roll throughout the entire school year? You wouldn’t believe some of the things I’ve been told. Like it’s not possible to be a girl and succeed.

As a girl, there’s almost never a day where you can walk down the street or hallways at school without hearing a whistle, being grabbed, or degraded and disrespected in some other way.

But, the best thing about being a girl is having the strength and the courage to stand up and speak out about these things. As a girl, nothing has or ever will stand in the way of my dreams, and no man, boy, or public perception is ever going to change that, or take it away. As a girl, I know what it feels like to want and need love and respect, and as a girl, I have the strength in my heart to give it. My dreams and goals are bigger now more than ever, all girls deserve to have the strength and confidence I’ve developed and grown into in my life, be comfortable in their own skin, and I will give my all to make sure that they do, even if its only one at a time.

But most importantly, as a girl, I have the pride in standing here and being able to say:

I CAN CHANGE THE WORLD!

Love Always.
Destiney, age 14

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Destiney, you are awesome. Keep it up, Girl.

Spiderman at the Park



I babysat yesterday. No, that wasn’t quite right. I spent all afternoon directing the actions of an adorable energetic 5 yr old. I’ve been babysitting since I was twelve but this was the first time I actually felt like a mom. A mom! I don’t know why I suddenly felt so parental. I mean, I’ve been with my 8 1/2 yr old a couple times a week every week since getting back from Jordan (3 months ago) and never felt any such inkling. But there I was, telling him to take his clothes to his room and to do his homework (he complained about it for five minutes before looking in his backpack and discovering he didn’t have any) and to share with the other kids. It’s not like I normally let my charges languish on the couch, clothes strewn about and homework untouched while I drink a martini on the chaise. But I said it with such authority! Sure, he argued, but only when his little arms were full and his legs were already carrying him up the stairs.

Weird.

That was a tangent. Actually the whole point of this post is to tell you about my afternoon at the park, which actually has nothing to do with the boy I was babysitting or the sudden So This Is What It’s Like bit.

When we got to the park, there was a small flock of children. These kids, in fact:

And then a few more. They were shy, but unmistakably curious. I said hello as my non-son ran off to the playground. And then the oldest introduced herself in Arabic and I realized they really weren’t shy; they just couldn’t understand what I was saying. She introduced her sister and brother and another girl that was with them entirely in Arabic.

Oi.

I did my best to understand, and did a good job of it. But as for communicating? FAIL.

It struck me as I was uploading these pictures: I could retake them. But my camera is upstairs and I am lazy.

Onions and Nick Hornby

My dad makes this really delightful French Onion Soup. As a kid, I was a staunch opponent of All Things Onion and so when dad made this soup, I just slurped the broth with some bread and cheese and shunned those rogue bits that snuck their way into my bowl.

But in the past year, I have come to find Onions quite indispensable and just this weekend my dad made yet another winning batch of soup, and I not only ate all the onions, I scooped up seconds–and even thirds.

And wow, do I reek. I woke up smelling onions. Was I imagining it? Perhaps. But real or not, “onion” is not a great morning smell.

Also, they don’t sit so well with me. I can feel them in my stomach and I’m sure they’re plotting revenge for all the years I dumped their American compadres down the sink.

*********************

I babysat Thursday night.

We watched Hannah Montana, and afterwards played frisbee in the street.

We went to the bowling alley and bowled barefoot.

I scored a 43.

Then we cranked up the radio on my phone and danced all the way home.

It was a good night.

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On Saturday, I checked out some movies and a book. Tonight we watched Men in Black, which is still one of my favorites. Probably in my top 20. Or 15.

I checked out About A Boy and have been reading it since Saturday, and enjoying it immensely. I can’t recommend it because of its copious use of the f-word, but if any of you are so inclined, I will buy you a copy and edit it myself. And I’m not just saying this because I’m an Anglophile. It really is great writing and delightful characters.

Tomorrow night, I will have some friends over to watch Jumanji (Jumanji!) and play Balderdash (woohoo!).

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I’m doing my best to squeeze all the life out of my days (in a good way!) because today I sent in my cover letter and resume to the IOM. My fingers are crossed, but not too hard. I was initially quite excited but in browsing the web on Thursday afternoon, I found an even better potential opportunity in Egypt. I don’t know if I could intern or work there (also an IOM project) so I wrote the lady in charge of the counter-trafficking program and am eagerly awaiting her response. My fingers are crossed so tightly they hurt.

Since returning from Jordan, I really haven’t been eager to travel. I know! Me! Not wanting to travel! (Amman will do that to you.)

But in the last two weeks, I’ve been itching to get out. To see new things, to shop in souqs, to be a part of a crazy Middle Eastern city with noise and beat-up cars and teetering high-rises. Not so much to be harassed on the street, no, but falafeeel. It is calling my name and I am doing my best to heed its voice.

The Angels May Quote From It

Keeping a journal–a “record”–is a big deal with Mormons. We’re told from the time we’re small that we need to keep a journal of our life. (In writing this post, I couldn’t remember exactly why this was important, so I asked Google and found just what I was looking for. Google. Where would I be without you?)
Well, I was a great journal-keeper in high school and in an effort to de-crap my life, I have been going through closets and drawers and boxes, and have stumbled upon my stash of journals. Oh man, did my teenage self write some funny stuff.

Tonight, I came across journals from EFY and Sunday school. Boyhowdy, the fun never stopped, not even in Sunday school.

Before I share this with you, I must preface it with some words from the late Spencer W. Kimball:
Your journal should contain your true self rather than a picture of you when you are β€œmade up” for a public performance. …
Get a notebook, a journal that will last through all time, and maybe the angels may quote from it for eternity. Begin today and write in it your goings and comings, your deepest thoughts, your achievements and your failures, your associations and your triumphs, your impressions and your testimonies.

And, apparently, your best jokes. From one of my Sunday school journals, scrawled in sparkly-blue gelly roll pen (remember those?) on a page of its own, I wrote this:

Oh my gosh! I am sooooooo bored!!! It’s like sitting through a meeting where Ben Stein is the featured speaker!
I heard a joke yesterday…Let’s see if I remember it…
girl: if you were my husband, I’d put arsenic in your coffee.
guy: If I were your husband, I’d drink it!
Ha ha ha

I hope the angels quote that one, and my posterity, too because that is a funny joke. Especially since its written in one of the journals distributed by the church. You know the purple one with the temple on the front and a little flower at the top of each page? Yeah, That one. (I hope I wrote it during a lesson on eternal marriage. I think the angels would really get a kick out of that.)

Ah, my true self recorded on glossy, flowery paper in sparkly-blue teenage scrawl.

Yep. I am going to heaven.

My Life Is Average

Have you met MLIA? If you don’t know what I’m talking about, don’t even finish my post. Just go here. Now. NOW I SAY!

Because it is the funniest, feel-goodest site on the internet. I spent hours a very reasonable amount of time today reading excerpts from the lives of others, and laughing. Laughing and laughing and laughing because we humans are just so darn funny. Life is funny. It is! It just is.

Here is my own MLIA story, contributed by my 16-yr old self:

Like every other holiday, Easter ends with a 75% Off All Candy sale. A spur-of-the-moment decision led my friend and I to target 10 minutes before closing. We ran to the aisle with all the Easter merchandise, grabbed several bags of jelly beans, and ran back to the checkout. I read the cashier’s name tag as he rang up the sale candy: Clarence. MLIA.

HAHAHA. Don’t you love 16-yr old me? I sure do. More of my teenage hilarity to come!

The Brits Have Done It Again

It’s one and I am supposed to be fast asleep right now so I can wake up for my 6 AM workout and have like, proper hormone levels or something. Instead, I am sharing this video.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAA

Pretty Soon I’m Going To Start Asking for Money

Yes, Sister, I am looking at you and your insomnia.

Today she told me that I had to update again QUICK because she read my blog immediately instead of during the insomnia as we negotiated. So I said, with the help of my keyboard, HEY. My updates are not like my amazingly delicious chocolate chip cookies–I can’t just whip them up and have them be great. I mean, for starters, I need something to talk about.

And then I realized, When have I ever needed something to talk about? Anyone who’s ever gotten an email from me knows This Girl is a master at talking about nothing. Isn’t that how I passed college? Yes. Yes it is.

So, for your insomniatic pleasure, I present to you: This Post.

Today I went to the clinic. I waited in the waiting room for an hour, just sitting there, staring. I didn’t have a book with me because I usually only have a to wait a few minutes. (“Usually” meaning “the one other time I visited the clinic”.) I couldn’t listen to my iPod because I had a headache and all I could think about was my throbbing
forehead, and the pressure all along my cheekbones. Music would have been painful. So, I sat there, mouth slightly open, temples throbbing, and made my own music. It went something like this:
*throb* Ow.

*throb* Ow.

*throb* Ow.

*throb* Ow.

*throb* Ow.

*throb* Ow.

*throb* Ow.

The bright fluorescent lights in the white-walled, white-floored room enhanced the experience. Unfortunately, it was one experience that would have been better without enhancement.

I have never had a sinus infection before, and can’t say for sure whether I do now. It seems I do, but the drug-happy doctors here don’t need things like a “diagnosis” to prescribe antibiotics. Nope. She just jabbed at my cheeks and forehead and asked if it hurt (YES) and then sent me away with a prescription for three different medications, as well as a referral to some hospital in Sharjah for a face x-ray. Would you believe that some people actually want a reason for starting a course of pills called “anti-life”?

I came home and swallowed some Advil Cold & Sinus and slept curled up at the end of my parents’ bed. I can’t explain why I did this; it was rather canine of me. But two hours later, I felt good enough to be productive, so I guess those animals are on to something.

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Ah, look what I found. Photographic evidence of my Life.

That’s my mom in her Halloween costume. She went as a souq. Dad insisted that didn’t count as a costume, that it was more of a routine–a shtick, if you will–and she needed to find something more orthodox.
Of course she didn’t, and obviously it was a hit.

My least favorite part of Halloween is the dressing up, so I didn’t.

This is me at the Halloween party, jumping off an armchair:

Lest you find me completely unfestive, I did don a wig for part of the evening:

I look like a lioness, but actually I’m a She-wolf. Like Shakira.

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This is a clothing store at Wafi mall:

I am not kidding.

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Last night, my mom left the country for a conference in Denver. She’ll be gone for a week.
Today, I met Dad for lunch. He was having a hard day because Mom is gone and so he didn’t sleep well. It’s only 12:30? He said to me. It feels like 5:00 will never get here.

When he did come home, he asked what we should have for dinner. This was sort of a trick question because all we have in our fridge is salad, pickles, and a thawing turkey. We thought about making pasta, but were too lazy to make a flour-run.

Well, we could have salad. Of course, then we would have to make the dressing

We thought for a minute, then he said,

How about popcorn?

So we ate a bowl of popcorn in front of the television, and then spent the next two hours staring at our laptops and occasionally flipping channels on the TV we weren’t watching.

*************

I’ve been switching between MTV and VH1 for the last 3 hours. I love MTV. I’m sorry, that wasn’t quite right. I *LOVE* MTV. I love Made and My Super-sweet 16 and True Life and Pimp My Ride and Punk’d and music videos. Most of all, I love getting caught up on pop culture. I get so isolated out here and watching MTV makes me feel like a part of something. Is that sad? A little, right? Well, anyway. I love it. *LOVE* it. Music videos are cool, too. Especially since much of my self-worth is dependent on my ability to identify the song title and band name of any song on the radio. Lately, my self-worth has been increasing.

But tonight, just in the last few hours, they played She Wolf (Shakira) four times. Four times! And I’ve heard 21 Guns (Greenday) twice. And both VH1 and MTV played Madonna’s new song. I watched the Lady Gaga video (Paparazzi) once and it was…strange. And cool. Coolly strange. I love Katy Perry’s Waking Up In Vegas, but am not crazy about Rihanna’s Run This Town. I was not impressed with Kid Rock’s All Summer Long video. But, it is Kid Rock and when have I ever been impressed by one of his videos? Zactly. Oh look, they’re playing Circus again. Which is okay with me, because I like this video and song. But you know what? Womanizer is a dumb video. And, like, I’m a fan of Britney and all, but what the heck is up with that video? Brit, I expect more of you.

Tonight, VH1 wins. Because they played a Michael Jackson video AND they didn’t repeat one video four times. (Yeesh.) Michael Jackson is The King. Have you seen This Is It? I have. Twice. And MTV, you really need to follow VH1’s lead on this and play more of his music. His dancing is good and his videos don’t rely on the pornification of women to be entertaining.
(Halo. VH1, this is the second time tonight. What up?)
(Run This Town. Third time. I think it’s time for bed.)

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So, now it’s time for bed. And it’s evening over there in the Western hemisphere. I am setting this to post at 9 PM. See what I do for you, Insomniacs? Forget travelogue. This is like, … shoot. I can’t think of anything clever right now but someday I will come up with something and it will be funny and it will have to do with insomnia and this blog.
Yeah, I’m spent.

Good night, you crazy insomniacs!

[Edit: I lied. I’m making it 10 PM. I think. I hear you guys just when on daylight savings time, so I’m not so up on time differences anymore. 12 hours to California? Hm. I think so.]