Momentary respite

I need to take a quick breather from this fuck of a week:


Ah yes, that will do it. Since I can't exploit the jaw-droppingly seductive, "Why the HELL aren't you home RIGHT NOW?!" photo of CB for viewing pleasure (damn morals), the least I can do is come up with a suitable substitute. Like the Speedo scene from X-Files, but about 1000 times better. Once again, the placebo effect lives: I feel better already. Don't you? (Courtesy of many places, but particularly this one.)

Random thoughts from an overworked mind

Dear God, Jamie Bamber is hot.

The fact that King County makes you fill out 9 .pdf pages for an entry-level job is a good indication of just how sadistic government can become unchecked. Seriously, don't you people have better things to do than make me sweat over my computer for three hours, swearing as I reformat text boxes that somebody put in the wrong place?

Both husband and I went running in our respective countries today. Both of us made sure to run until we were feeling slightly ill, which in our minds indicates a good workout. Clearly, both of us are insane. Distance does not appear to be fixing this shared affliction.

Any ideas on how to convince well-meaning family that maybe it's not such a good idea to have a dog with my name, even if it did come that way?

Career guides make it all sound so easy. They are liars.

No, I mean Jamie Bamber is REALLY hot. I cannot deny reality.

This whole two-year drought thing is going to be a problem.

The husband, although he cannot conceive of it now, is maybe possibly going to be sorry by the second day home. The neighbors might be sorrier.

I cannot believe I just wrote that.

Let alone that I am going to post it. The blogosphere really is a bad influence on us all.

I am definitely getting rid of all references to my real name tonight. And hoping all family members stopped reading months ago.

(But Jamie? Still hot.)

It's just a little crush

Poor CB. He has competition.

Some of those pictures do not do Kate Walsh (aka Addison Shepherd of Grey's fame) justice, but seriously, she is the most smoldering on-screen presence since, well, I don't know what. Sure, it might have been better for my self-esteem to never realize how uniquely attractive some women can be without trying -- but I gotta admit, after marathoning my way through the second season, I sure do enjoy looking at her anyway. ;)

Sorry, love. We can now update my lust list to include Zach Braff, Jake Gyllenhaal, Natalie Portman and Kate Walsh. Hey, a girl can dream...

Musings on married life

Somehow, getting hit on is much more entertaining. It's fun to smile and nod while they test out cheesy platitudes ("Damn, you work out? You're all put together..."), then flash the ring with mock disappointment and announce that you're off the market. Although this guy did offer to give me his card "in case things go south." So professional...

Impure and unchaste thoughts

So, um...*looks sheepishly at keyboard*...the wedding is three weeks away, and...*slouches in embarrassment*...I'm in that phase where I just keeping thinking about how this is the End of Dating.

I don't even like dating, or any of the politics that accompany it, but it's just...weird. I'm never going to kiss another boy again. Unless, of course, my dream comes true and fellow-writer-far-more-successful-than-I, Zach Braff, really becomes our roommate after grad school. Then I'd probably have to on principle, just like my fiancee would have to kiss Tina Fey if she showed up anytime before the birth of her child...it's one of those mutual understanding things.

I have no idea why I suddenly care; you would think that 3.5 years of being an emphatically single college student would get it out of my system. (For my Seattle U readers, we do not count the Canada incident in those 3.5 years. Thank you for erasing it from your memories.) I do not harbor burning desires to kiss anyone other than my fiancee, and yet I obsess. Someone please tell me that this is a normal stage in the Bride Panic Process.

On a lighter note, the programs are done! Hurrah! They didn't even require ice-pick poking! I even mustered enough courage to make two trips to craft stores in a single week for much-needed wedding supplies. After getting lost in a field of faux flowers, I snatched up whatever looked good and ran for my life, thereby confirming that I would rather bike 20 miles in a downpour than learn how to navigate Ben Franklin.