Shower Thoughts

Shower Thoughts

I ran out of my usual shower gel and was left with one of those suspicious freebie shower gels that come with shampoos. I say "suspicious" because if it were really that good, why are they giving it away? It was an Herbal Essences shower gel with the scent of "mallow flower" which I think is botanical code for "ass." Because that's what it smelled like. And I had to use it or just be one of those people that showers without using soap. So right now I smell like ass. And will continue to do so until I can get to a store.

Geo came home from work last week and told me he heard on the news that they're running out of names for hurricanes. Then he said "I told my co-workers that if ever a Hurricane Marissa comes they shouldn't even bother to run or hide. It'll just be armageddon." My husband is so sweet. Other wives get flowers, but flowers die. I get honeyed words likening me to a violent and destructive act of nature.

Speaking of hurricanes, I saw an ad (courtesy of K's blog) on the Breast Cancer Site which has the words "Gulf Coast Breast Cancer Crisis" over a picture of a destroyed house. It implores visitors to click on it and fund free mammograms for women in the South. Now it's just a click and cancer is a serious thing, but way to jump on the Hurricane Katrina bandwagon. I laughed when picturing hundreds of trucks arriving in New Orleans, filled with mammogram machines instead of food, water and first aid supplies. Right now men are chastising me in their heads. "Riss, it's important to save the tits. In fact, some tits are more worth saving than some people."

I am finally over my flu but all the coughing has left my chest sore. The worst part of having the flu is having to hock up loogies (lugies?) one tic-tac-sized piece at a time. If I were a chemist I would invent a pill that would somehow gather up all the phlegm in your body into one long-skinny mass and allow you to crap it out. My initial idea was a tube you could jam down your throat to suck up all the phlegm at once. But on further reflection that sounded painful. I really hate coughing.

You know what's a bit annoying? The fact that the things we played with and trashed as children are worth so much money now. Like lunchboxes. And Transformers. I had this exact fucking Strawberry Shortcake lunchbox as a kid. Used it to keep sandwiches in, sometimes for days. And now it's worth 200 bucks. Insanity. If I were a kid I would want this lunchbox. Or maybe this Batman one. I already have a lunchbox though. I even brought it to work once. It didn't have sandwiches in it though, just smokes and a flask. It has The Rock on it. Don't make fun, you roody-poo candy asses.

It makes me laugh when celebrities do commercials. Like Catherine Zeta Jones and her Sprint commercials or Robert DeNiro and his American Express commercials. It just seems weird for "serious" film stars to be pimping themselves out to Corporate America. I wonder if there are certain "rules" to it. Like it's okay to do commercials as long as it's a decent product, and not douche bags or mayonnaise or something.

I started doing this kickboxing workout on DVD and it's pretty good. But a side effect of watching it is that I want to beat the shit out of the instructor. She's just so damn peppy. Coked up cheerleader peppy. Which probably means she'd kick my ass because she'd have that crazy drug addict strength.

Julian McMahon has made yet another appearance in my dreams. But just as it was getting good, one of my twins started crying and woke me up. I tried to explain to her that technically dreams didn't count as infidelity to which she replied "Wah uh ah mama." Which loosely translated means "I don't give a fuck what you do on your own time woman, but get me some milk."