June 11, 2004

I swear you can tell how much (or, more accurately, how little) I'm getting laid by my Netflix queue. Suddenly it will fill up with a bunch of crap chick flicks whose only virtue is that the star is my favored matinee idol of the moment. Right now it's Hugh Jackman, thanks to Van Helsing. I just suffered through Kate and Leopold and Someone Like You (which, embarrassingly, I've already seen, as I'm also a guilty consumer of chick lit & much enjoyed Animal Husbandry). If I'm particularly weak and pathetic, I might spend half an hour going through their pictures on imdb. Luckily Hugh Jackman doesn't have too many pictures.

I'm feeling better about my recent choices for imaginary boyfriend, however. I'm sticking more to my age range. Peter Krause and Hugh Jackman and Colin Firth aren't all creepy and cradle-robby like the casts of my favorite Fox of WB shows.

I sure would like a beer right now.

I'd like to have a beer and some popcorn and watch what I think is the final item from my Hugh Jackman queue, but instead I have to be content with Diet Coke. What a drag. Hmph. But there it is. I may actually get a little sobriety reprieve before the rowdy girlcon at the end of the month if Rebecca does in fact celebrate her birthday next weekend, but depending on how kiss-assy her friends are, Father's Day may put the kibosh on that plan. Not that I don't love my daddy. He's the tops! But I'm not compelled to drive all the way to Humble, Texas, especially not with gas prices being what they are and after having missed 2 weeks of work on jury duty. Hm. Now I feel like a bad daughter. Does that make me a bad daughter? If only I could have a beer, I'd forget all about that. Anyway, it's not like my dad has ever come up here just to visit me. I mean, yes, he did come up last week, but that was for the ROT Rally; that had nothing to do with me personally.

I'm all alone and planless on a Friday night after a 13-hour jury day. It was allegedly our last day for a 2-week case, but instead we got a surprise holdover until Monday. I have no plans and no prospects for the weekend, outside of a little chainsawing tomorrow morning and some cheering at the finish line of Rebecca's triathlon on Sunday, if it is in fact this Sunday. And maybe make a less-skimpy camo version of the skull & crossbones halter I knitted this week.

But that's all later. The best I can hope for tonight would be to finish the dishes & laundry and take a satisfying dump. Ah, the glamorous life. Oh wait! I need to bake Brian a pie for his letting me use his chainsaw, as agreed. That may not sound glamorous to you, but it's a very special pie of my own invention, and it's far more exciting than housework and bodily functions!

05.31.04