Bounce, bounce!
My new bed arrives tomorrow! A plush firm, queen size mattress set. And I’ve already bought all the beddings. They’re sitting in their packages, waiting to be unwrapped and herald in the beginning of a peaceful night’s sleep from now on. I’m taking the day off to gut my room, scrub it down, toss out the old mattress, and begin anew. I can’t wait.
There was some super shit commercial on the other night where this skeletal-thin chick is eating one of those one hundred calorie packs of Oreo’s or M & M’s or whatever–all of which still contain trans fat/hydrogenated oils, so you’re not doing yourself any favors whatsoever. And she’s being driven in a cab through this urban fairytale of a city replete with kids playing jumprump and people walking dogs who fortuitously bump into their future lovers, all while this jaunty tune plays. And the whole fucking thing is like getting anal raped with a molten lava-tipped pitchfork over and over again ’cause those hundred calorie packs aren’t going to help you be thin and happy. Just chunky and happy. So cut the crap, Jan!
Hearing a beautiful new song is like riding over the tip of a roller coaster. It’s amazing and exciting, and you wouldn’t think you’d ever still be alive and get to experience something like it.
