Sluggish Start

Could I be more bored? Yes, I suppose I could. I could be fighting to stay awake in science class but this is almost as excruciating. I haven't worked in about a week. Such is the life of a freelancer with standards. Too bad my personal life can't mirror my professional one.

Today I'm at the broadcast PR firm. I have been sitting on my arse all day. I haven't written a single word for them. So what have I been doing? Looking for a crackberry, glancing at the copy of The Times sitting on my desk and thinking I should probably pick it up and get the latest on Darfur. I did one useful thing. I purchased these clear shoe boxes from a website called neatcontainers.com. Not the most creative name to market their product but at least I'll be able to see all the Prada and Gucci shoes that are still too painful to wear. Why is it that the more you pay for heels, the more they resemble medeival torture devices? Ooh, I should totally go online and buy that book about how to wear high heels... what's it called? "How to Walk in High Heels" me thinks. Must read that.

I had brunch with Thermos last week and his college roommate joined us. The guy's a big shot plastic surgeon. So I may be getting a few things nipped and tucked. I'm going to need you to calm down over there. It's safe, relatively speaking, and there are fat deposits some of us are genetically predisposed to having despite how much we work out. Granted, I could try working out but we live in an age of instant gratification exacerbated by text messaging and video on demand. I'm not sure I have the inclination to sit through hours upon hours of yoga to connect with my chakra's or whatever the hell they're called.

Plus, yoga stresses me out. I went to Bikram's yoga in San Francisco when I lived there. That's where they turn up the heat and you sweat your ass off during poses. I actually liked it but the instructor was Hitler's bastard stepchild. First of all, I hate it when white people try to speak Sanskrit. Please don't say "shaanti," an English translation will suffice. So he was doing that and then when he was trying to get us to relax and focus, he kept saying, "No itchy, no scratchy...no itchy, no scratchy." This was making me giggle and after a while, the power of suggestion resulted in some itching and the desire to "scratchy." But the final straw was when he tried to help me adjust a pose with his sweaty TOE! I hate feet to begin with but to have a virtual stranger extend his toe on my ankle was really too much. I thought my boyfriend was going to collapse in his downward dog pose when he saw the experession of sheer disgust on my face. Needless to say, that was my last yoga class.

I've been talking to the chiropractor. He's actually considering flying out to L.A. from Chicago next week while I'm there. Ironically, Boston will be there, too, but that ship has sailed. This guy is 5'10" and ready to settle down like yesterday. I'm trying to learn from my recent mistakes. Most importantly, to stay grounded and act sane. Note, I said "act sane." We all know the Love Pariah didn't change overnight. My boss has a script for me to write. Yippee- life has meaning.