I’m not the cleanest person in the world.
Let me clarify: I am NOT dirty. My bathroom and sinks and such are clean. There’s no moldy food growing under my couch. Having said this, as anyone who knows me, knows, I’m messy. Or…if not messy, definitely a dropper. Clothing ends up all over my floor, purse and keys are anywhere from kitchen counters to dinner table to couch to bedroom. Don’t even get me started on shoes.
But then, every once in awhile, I go absolutely insane and do a major overhaul. Closet gets completely emptied and rearranged, things come out from under the bed that haven’t seen daylight in years…everything I own gets put into such an organized, alphabetized conglomerate that it’s pretty much impossible for me to deny the OCDness.
This weekend was much of that sort of thing. Not that it started out that way. Friday bounced around with a bunch of exciting possibilities…then they all fell through. Thankfully, Cin took pitty on me, and I ended up staying overnight there. We sat up for most of the night…finally deciding to call it in at almost four A.M. I woke up around six, forced myself to sleep for another hour and a half, then went down for cereal and some cartoons. Restless, I headed back to my place in time to get back into bed before 8:30a.
Instead I turned into an insane asylum escapee and spent the next eight hours doing nothing but organizing, regrouping, vacuuming, dusting, soaping down baseboards, and just generally being a crazy person. For sure this is all part of the “I’m changing my life,” deal, but man, was it ever kinda frightening to watch my OCD rear its ugly, focused head. I honestly think I wasted ten minutes of my life determining what order my blue and green vase should be arranged on my dresser. (Well, the blue is darker, so it should be further behind…but the green looks better when its centered, and it can’t really be centered in the foreground…) The counting was ridiculous. I mean, looking back on it, it probably doesn’t matter that I washed the baseboards exactly three times, with equal strokes of five all the way down, but it seemed super important at the time. Also, I can’t help it that my closet is colour coordinated...or organized by sleeve length/torso length/neck cut/collar. It’s what works for me, so leave it alone.
Sunday I did a bit of laundry, watched Sweeny Todd for the millionth time (and yes, I do sing all the parts, deal with it), fed the fishies and then took off to spend the afternoon/evening with Dad, Dad’s GF, and Dad’s GF’s daughters. He had golf on when I arrived, which is clearly unacceptable. I maintain the only way to enjoy golf is to be around lots of fun people consuming lots of alcohol. My father responded to this by asking if I would like him to make me a drink. I replied that no amount of alcohol would help me enjoy the watching of golf.
Eventually, the youngest of the two daughters and I managed to extricate the remote from Dad, and switched the station over to fabulous cartoons. (6teen and Total Drama Island My father asked when I ever was going to grow up. I upheld the belief that I never would. Weirdly, he seemed pleased by this.
Later on, I forced everyone to watch Mike Meyers host the MTV Movie Awards. Nothing too mind-blowing there…he did it way better back in 1997. (Do you guys remember the lord of the dance opening? Oh, how I wish I could find it on YouTube). Since I cannot, this will have to tide you over:
Megan Fox, my current muse for the sequel to Atsou, had lots of screen time…and I had the rather silly task of convincing my father that yes, he did know who Coldplay was, and that no, they weren’t really a “cool kids” band. Then there was the whole Johnny Depp fiasco…
I love my dad, I really do, but this whole Texan deal of hating anyone who’s spoken out against either the US or presidential policies is retarded. You either love the US freedom and the ability to speak your mind about anything, anywhere (well, with the possible exception of airports) or you think that anyone who speaks their disagreement with a government should be shot. This is a very simple choice, and you only get one; the two cannot coexist on the same plane, within the same person. Trying to accomplish both is like…it’s like throwing bibles at people who are uncertain about God.
Wow, sorry about that. I’m off the soapbox. No, seriously, I’m down. I’m just wearing really tall heels today (Yea, Steve Madden circa Fall 2002!). That’s the other thing about me lately; I seem to be rekindling my love affair with “the heels.” And why not, I ask you? I’m little, I can rock the big girl shoes, and wearing them while climbing stairs really does make my ass look fantastic.
And, really, what more could a girl ask for?
Quote of the Moment: “I had this friend once, who wanted her nose to be bigger so her boyfriend could do her there…not really sure what that means…”
Soundtrack of the Moment: Sweeny Todd, Not While I’m Around
TV/Movie Quote: Saved!:
Hilary Faye: Mary, turn away from Satan. Jesus, he loves you.
Mary: You don't know the first thing about love.
Hilary Faye: [throws a Bible at Mary] I am FILLED with Christ's love! You are just jealous of my success in the Lord.
Mary: [Mary holds up the Bible] This is not a weapon! You idiot.