A Fickle Pickle

I figure that I fall in love about 6 times a day. I don't really have mild reactions to anything or anyone in my life. I either love it or hate it, but that's another post. The love thing: yesterday, for example, I fell in love with my red sparkly nail polish, coffee, Sun and Jin from Lost and Black Star by Radiohead.

Today it was my eyebrow lady, 'cause she fixed it so that I no longer look like this. Yes, Eyebrow Lady (who you should think of as Esmeralda from here on), I am in love with you. You are an efficient hair remover. And I forgive you for not getting all the sticky wax off of my face.

In other news: Some kid whose testicles had not even dropped yet rode past me on his bike while I was waiting for the bus and had the temerity/audacity/cheek to ask me for my number so he could "call me later" in a high pitched squeaky voice. Thought he was pretty damn funny. In his position I would've feared for my life, especially considering the fact that my right boob is like bigger than his puny head. I wanted to throw something in the spokes of his bike so he would take a spill. I didn't because I am a mature adult. At least I pretend to be most of the time.

This incident is part of the reason I will never have children. They are annoying at least 65% of the time in my experience. And you can't shut them off when they're annoying. Indeed, you have to rise above their annoyingness, because they're children and you're the adult. NUTS TO THAT. I don't feel like being the bigger person, I'm downright tired of it. I'd rather be snarky.

More importantly, my beloved Jubu and Subu have returned and I am super excited. There will be a great deal of group love and not a small amount of Star Wars watching. Apparently I will want to remove my ovaries through my nostrils after watching Attack of the Clones.

Looking forward to it.