Sometimes I wish Kay Thompson was narrating my life, Eloise-style. I think I'd be in a good mood more consistently if I could scrape my skate key along the hallways of my office, pour a pitcher of water down the mail chute and have all my imaginings unfold before me outlined in red ink.
How is it possibly only Friday? Friday should have been three days ago.
Friday, September 25, 2009
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Thought: "The Formation of Mental Objects"
All dresses should be required to have pockets.
My neighborhood has been overrun by the UN General Assembly. It looks like a military junta has taken over and all I can say is thank goodness one in every 15 police officers is good looking. At least this way, when I'm fighting to walk to and from work, I can play infinite rounds of Spot the Hot Cop to distract myself from the diplomats and their aides who, frustratingly, have yet to master the art of brisk, determined, NYC-style pedestrianship.
Have been inspired to blog once again by Dooce.com -- if you haven't read her, you haven't really lived. In a completely hyperbolic sense. Clearly.
My neighborhood has been overrun by the UN General Assembly. It looks like a military junta has taken over and all I can say is thank goodness one in every 15 police officers is good looking. At least this way, when I'm fighting to walk to and from work, I can play infinite rounds of Spot the Hot Cop to distract myself from the diplomats and their aides who, frustratingly, have yet to master the art of brisk, determined, NYC-style pedestrianship.
Have been inspired to blog once again by Dooce.com -- if you haven't read her, you haven't really lived. In a completely hyperbolic sense. Clearly.
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