My boyfriend is actually working out right now while I am typing. I imagine that as he does his lunges and ab twists that my body is getting more toned by the minute. Sure, it's not possible but I promised myself that if I started to get fat skinny that I would hit the tread mil or immediately stick my finger down my throat after any good, big meal. We'll see. I think the one thing I hate more than exercise is vomiting. Just the worse.
I still have no work for the rest of the week, so I am going full on philanthropic. My parents have bought a house with my little sister on the south shore and are trying to get it ready for move in. It's an in-law apartment kind of thing and it needs paint. No money, but a good feeling like I have done my part to help my parents. I just wish they were older and more feeble because it would feel more gratifying. Damn them for having me so young.
Speaking of my sister, Erin, I had totally forgotten how freaked out she gets about me being booked on American Airlines Flight 11 on Sept 11, 2001. I guess it is freaky, but I changed my flight about 3 weeks out to the 10th and averted an obvious very tragic demise. My point is that we all dodge bullets. Not the literal ones, that's for we Dorchester dwellers, but you get what I am saying. The plan was not for me to die that day and I have never really questioned it. I did take great pleasure in making my voice over client in California fel bad about almost killing me with their plan to fly me on "11 on the 11th" as they told me. Apparently I am someone they thought would benefit from the ease of remembering such an easy itinerary. How right they were.
You know that recurring nightmare you have since you were a small child? The one where you are falling off a stack of pancakes 20 stories high in a redwood forrest surrounded by flying nymphs? Well....... my recurring nightmare, one that hasn't happened since Sept 11th, is that I am on a plane, it's flying out of control for some reason not known to the passengers, through a city full of sky scrapers. I wake up just before it hits a building. Yeah, what the fuck, I know. Maybe I should call Chip Coffee and discuss with him my potential for psychic teachings. I am, after all, looking for a career change. It's something to consider......
Out - and remember, Ryan Seacrest has my career. If you see him, jump him and get it back for me.