I’m working on a redesign, which involves more than just picking out and uploading a new theme. It involves manipulating CSS and HTML and all that, which sounds smart, if you know what you’re doing, which I don’t. Hopefully, it’ll all work out and sometime soon you’ll see a new design here and you’ll think to yourself, “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever seen.” Why so hateful, Internets?
Oprah’s 21 Day Cleanse: Day 3
This is one of the worst ideas I’ve ever had. I have a raging headache that no overdose of ibuprofen or Excedrin has been able to rid me of. My sister thinks this should be called “The Third World Diet” because I can’t have anything but rice, practically. She suggested, for variety, I enjoy myself some dirt cookies. Janie has not yet told me to stop whining about this stupid cleanse (who could love such a stupid, stupid cleanse?) but she did beat me about the legs with her closed fists last night, which was rude. RUDE! Also, there are unspeakable things happening in my bottom system.
We have two friends joining us in this bullshit 21 day horror of horrors, Judy and Dana. Judy started one day earlier than Janie and I and we received an email update yesterday morning. Apparently, day one went well but on day two she ate a cheddar bratwurst at a barbecue for her mom’s birthday, but she didn’t have any alcohol or cake, so I guess that’s something. Something TOTALLY NOT FOLLOWING THE CLEANSE. Dana started her cleanse the day after ours and her update was just to let us know that her first day was the longest day ever recorded in history – it lasted 3,000 hours and all of them were filled with wanton thoughts of coffee. She’s decided to eat fish during the cleanse which is NOT REALLY A CLEANSE AT ALL because it involves things other than rice and dirt cookies. FUCK. This cleanse makes me lash out at the people I love. I’m sorry.
In closing, day three is going swimmingly, if swimmingly means I want to die.
My parents were recently in Florida. They spent their first few nights in Ft. Lauderdale from which they phoned my sister to let her know they found themselves in the midst of a fetish convention. For ten minutes my sister received whispered updates from my mother about the scarcely clothed persons walking around them in the lobby. A man with assless pants. A man in nothing other than a leather thong. A man wearing a gas mask…”on his junk.” We do not know where she picked up that lingo. It must be all that rap music and the MTV.