Virtual Insanity

I stepped in a pile of fire ants today, which is something like stepping in a pile of…well, in a pile of fire, what with the searing little bites, piercing fangs and poisonous venom. In a word, awesome. I was doing some work this weekend at an event where they actually flew in northern grass to please the sponsors – northern grass, as in, grass that doesn’t feel like prickly little needles and isn’t full of benign-looking piles of sand that turn your feet into flaming pustules of misery. Weirdly, it reminded me of the little things I miss about living somewhere else – things I forgot about that aren’t that really important, but are things I miss all the same. I mean, do y’all know what kind of grass we have down here? It’s sandy and silty and rough, and, due to the aforementioned fire ants, you can’t even dream about rolling around in it, and what then is the point of grass, I say?

The things I miss are shrinking by the day, actually, as I learn to appreciate the situation I’m in, and love the things that are, instead of what isn’t. And ah, it doesn’t hurt that it was 85 degrees outside today, and that tomorrow, I’m going swimming again. Outside. In February.

Suckers. But I still miss grass. Console yourselves with soft grass, you know, for the five minutes each year that you can actually see it. BAHAHAHAHAHA. I’m mean. But consider this, once again: I’m getting into NASCAR, and if that’s not the sign of a declining mind, I’m not sure what is. Did you know we have an entire season coming up? Yes! The Daytona 500 was only the beginning. Red Sox and NASCAR, all at once. A whole season full of fast cars, bizarrely hot men and…I don’t know what else, but I guess I’m not ashamed, but still, I am not a person to envy, warm weather or not.

Also, and this is important: I no longer find Howard K. Stern hot. The video with the makeup and the eight-month pregnant Anna Nicole Smith did it for me. No, just no, sexy jawline or not. Although I feel compelled to mention that my strange freak fetish to Adam, who did not recoil in utter revulsion, but instead replied thoughtfully, “Huh. I guess I could see that. He kind of looks like JFK Jr. from certain angles.” I’m pretty sure he was trying to make me feel better, but I’m pretending he was serious.

The last thing the Internet needs is this, but American Idol makes me very, very tired. Invariably, someone sings Marvin Gaye, Paula swoons, the fat guy has a hot wife, and it’s all just…well, it’s all the same, seriously, and I’m not all that excited about continuing to waste my damn time, and yet every Tuesday, I am pulled like a magnet to the television, guided by my friend TiVo. Also, a man attempted to sing “Fever” which made me want to kill myself slowly, and by ‘slowly’ I mean maybe with Vicodin, which makes Penny very, very happy.

Happy Wednesday!

*Jamiroquai. The only decent performance tonight. What?

15 comments February 27th, 2007