A random list of randomness… because after my second run today full narrative prose is a mission too far for my brain cells. List format seems like less effort. (Though on the bright side – exercise hasn’t killed me or rendered my leg muscles useless yet. This feels like positive progress).
- James Avery died. This makes me incredibly sad because I loved Fresh Prince and he was the best – especially when he was chucking Jeff out of the house. They don’t make TV like that any more. Uncle Phil – you rocked. This is the proof
- When getting ready to go to work this morning, I went to grab a blusher from my make-up drawer. I had trouble finding the exact one I wanted (Nars Orgasm if you’re interested which I suspect you aren’t) because I seem to have accrued fifty zillion of the things. Certainly more than one woman can plausibly wear and many of which are overly similar colours. And I wonder why I’m broke.
- Cracked.com is my latest discovery and the world’s biggest time suck. It’s worse than Buzzfeed.
- Exactly how many times is it acceptable to play a Justin Timberlake album on repeat before you are officially classified as obsessive? Ball park figure?
- It’s a little strange how two different sides of the same relationship can see it. I seem to be having a series of strange moments lately where people I didn’t think I was that close to are suddenly telling me… things. Not bad things, just stuff that I would’ve thought was a touch personal. Or maybe it’s not the perception of the relationship that’s different and I’m just a little more reserved. I don’t know. I take it as a compliment, anyway.
- You know what’s annoying? When somebody you fancy drunkenly tells you they love you, all very sweet and friendly like, and your mental voiceover** is yelling “WHY DON’T YOU REALLY MEAN THAT YOU SWEET LOVELY BASTARD!”
- I cooked tonight while wearing an Eeyore onesie (I didn’t buy it, it was a Christmas present, I swear) and dancing along to Never Gonna Give You Up, amongst other 80s’ classics. You all wish you were as cool as me.
**Yes, in my head there is a narrator giving a running voiceover and making pithy observations. I also have a mental soundtrack. I basically walk through my life like I’m the protagonist of some farcical sitcom.