Before you know it, you're the crazy cat lady in the scary house

Oh, To Be An Entrepreneur

March 18, 2003 ... 11:15 a.m.

center>

Eibisch: �I swear, you are the living end!�
Oscar: �What?�
Eibisch: �The cat�s pajamas.�
Oscar: �What?�
Eibisch: �The bee�s knees?�
Oscar: �Are you talking in code?�

I sit here multi-tasking. Yep. Listening and singing to music. And typing. And I�m downloading an NSYNC video. NSYNC�s Grammy 2003 tribute performance to the Bee Gees. The Bee Gees, people! BEE. GEES. Woo!

Jeez, I�m a dork! But that�s okay. I own my dorkicity.

Yes, I made that word up.

I really wish people would check with me before they stop writing their diaries. Especially when they�re on my favorites. I mean, it�s pretty inconvenient to think of a semi-witty remark and a week later there, instead of an entry....a �Dear Diaryland� letter.

People. I believe we have already established that the world does, indeed, revolve around me. Gravity? Pfft. That�s not gravity, it�s my magnetic personality. Narcissistic? Me? Yes.

HA!

I got to watch Abbie and Michaela yesterday morning. Ach. So cute. So little. So cute. And Michaela was in a really good mood--laughing at everything. Do you know how little kids have those belly laughs and get themselves all worked up and can�t stop laughing? She did that all morning. Which made me laugh. Which made her laugh more.

I want a baby. Where is my husband already? I�m only waiting on you for a couple more years, Mister! My kids are waiting (well, maybe not technically. yet) and if I have to go to Vietnam, Guatemala, Haiti, China by myself--so be it! We�re in a bit of a time crunch here, Mister. You�ve got until I graduate, capiche? Verstehen? Just so we understand each other.

We all went to the game last night. UIowa beat Valparaiso. Yay! My voice is raspy from yelling so much and I smelled like beer all night. The guy behind me spilled his Guinness (Happy St. Paddy�s Day!) all over me while the teams were warming up. They don�t even allow beer in Carver. Bootsie and I went to talk to a couple of the players we know. They kept giving me a *look*. At first, I couldn�t figure it out. And then I remembered. Me. Beer. Saturated. I bet you could�ve gotten drunk from standing within arm�s length and inhaling.

Now, you have to understand that attending games--especially Hawkeye basketball ones--with us may result in hearing loss. Actually, watching the game on tv with us could produce the same results. We are loud. L.O.U.D. And we coach. Even my brother. He�s screaming at the players, �Box out! Short! Clock! Weak side! Help! Sean, back door! Back door! Sean, are you listening to me?�

And last night, Bootsie screamed �Jared! Put your hands up!� and he did. And it worked. Dang. U of Iowa---throw that mil per year our way. My 8-year-old brother coaches better than Captain Gel--and he�s only been speaking English for 10 months. Not to mention, he�s only been watching basketball half that long.

Why aren�t there mail order husbands? Or are there? Because that might be worth looking into. No, I don�t mean for me! Although...No! What I meant was there�s gotta be some money in that. How much money do those women pay to go to Alaska to meet men? There must be a way to tap into that.

Oh, I know. I�d never do that. Make money off people�s...desperation or whatever. I�m not that cynical. Although I read somewhere that cynicism is just the natural, healthy reaction of a romantic to an overdose of reality.

Currently Reading:
Jackie After Jack: Portrait of the Lady by Christopher P. Andersen

Listening To: Oldies
...Now I don�t hardly know her, but I think I could love her...

~*~

Have a happy day!

7 ... 8