I haven’t shared all that much about my personal life here on IB and you should know that’s less about wanting to be mysterious and more because my personal life is far less exciting than the shit I make up. Don’t get excited; that hasn’t changed. But I’ve been busy enough lately that I haven’t been able to post half as much as I’d like.
You see, aside from work these days, I’m in the process of applying to graduate schools (researching programs, creating writing samples, getting recommendation letters, etc.), cramming for the GRE, and also writing an extensive book report and a hefty term paper for a graduate class I’m taking. So if you hear from me only sparingly in the coming weeks, you’ll know why. I’ll have to put the Words of the Week on hold briefly. It’s dreadful. I miss all you beautiful people.
But, like I said, I have not forsaken you. They say the road to hell is paved with good intentions. This is horseshit, of course, because good deeds will get you into heaven and all good deeds start off as good intentions. (Suck it, Satan.) To prove my devotion to you, the following is a teaser of several of my own good intentions in the form of posts currently sitting in my “Drafts” folder:
- A post entitled “For the Love of Snoop Dogg”
- A surprisingly educational post about rip currents
- A new Sorry, Darwin post
- A stack of book posts
- Coming soon: “An Open Letter to Those Who Bedazzle Pumpkins.”
Also, since I’m sharing, for those of you who missed my musings on Twitter regarding my recent stay at the Ritz Carlton [1. Seriously, when I own a first class hotel, I'll call it the Ritz Cruz, and there will be a 1/4-lb slab of dark chocolate on every pillow. The crap we got wouldn't have satisfied a Lilliputian.]:
6:22–Checked in. #459 is about to be my lucky number.
6:29–First class my ass. The toilet doesn’t have a single diamond on it.
6:31–Ugh. The champagne in that bidet is totally flat.
7:30–I’ve been waiting like an hour for the men to come carry me to the dining room on one of those satin pillows. I’m going to be late.
7:42–Made my boyfriend do it.
8:14–Ordered the ambrosia at dinner and the server said they were all out. What a crock.
9:12–Chocolate cake almost made up for that.
10:48–Mattress is exceptionally firm. Sheets, not silk.
In the meantime, in the spirit of my last post, Farmville kills babies. (This is sadly not a joke.)
And in celebration of today’s holiday, here’s a link to the scariest fucking thing I’ve seen in a long time (it will haunt your dreams): It’s happening.
Happy Halloween, everyone. I’m off to take my Rottweiler-Pitbull mix, Daisy, for a walk in search of chicks dressed as Lady Gaga in the meat dress