Holy guacamole, I've been busy. Which I know everyone says. Except I really was. Especially at work. Like I didn't meet with enough people last week, I've been trapped like a caged animal in meetings again all this week. Yesterday, while trapped in the same conference room for no less than six hours I had to restrain myself from giving people the hurry up hand signal while they were rambling. It's called concise, people. Look into it.
The whole world needs to take three steps back and stay out of my way today. I went to bed at 9pm last night and woke up at 5 am feeling capable of scaling a tall building in a single bound while wearing cute Nine West boots I haven't felt sassy enough to wear in months. I even walked on the treadmill before I got the kids up. And then I used some sort of Svengali-esque mind control to get the aforementioned kids up and out the door in 15 minutes. I'm either operating on all cylinders or just feeling lucky. I don't really care which. Whatever gets the job done.
Despite being much too busy to handle things like blogging, dirty dishes, or stacks of laundry, I did find time to watch Project Runway. Priorities, baby. It's important to maintain them even when you're busy.
Ricky remains king of the criers. I thought his dress was nice but apparently I'm not high fashion enough to understand why it won. I'm also not high fashion enough to understand why he makes hats out of denim. Hopefully his denim hats are more attractive than the stupid mesh baseball cap he's so committed to wearing every week. It never ceases to amaze me when designers that can create such beautiful clothes dress like complete slobs all the time. Not like I don't dress like a slob 99% of the time. But then no one pays me to design pretty clothes for a living so there.
Christian is still my new best friend. Although he's been my new best friend for awhile now so maybe I should stop using the word "new" to refer to our relationship. Henceforth, he shall be known as just my best friend. And he's a total lock for the final 3 or I'll be a monkey's uncle. Because he's very talented and deserves final 3.
On the other hand, I will eat my shoe if Chris makes it to the final 3 because there's no way he deserves it. Especially since he was already eliminated once. I hadn't thought Sweet P had final 3 potential until recently but she's really coming on strong. She turned that hideous patchwork thing she started with into a thing of beauty. And Jillian needs to stop whining. So does my best friend Christian but he's my best friend so let's get off his back. To make it up to me he can bring me candy next time he comes over to paint my toe nails.
And, finally, I feel obligated to confess that I also watched part of The Rock of Love 2. Ok. Technically, I've set the DVR to record the series now. But it's not my fault this time. It's the writer's strike. There's nothing else on. What do you want from me? I've been reading a lot more too. But sometimes a girl gets tired and just wants to lay in bed with the remote in her hand. It doesn't make her a bad person. And everything else is repeats. And I can only watch Sex and the City repeats so many times before I know what's going to happen before it happens and feel my brain turning to mush. And if I'm going to turn my brain to mush anyway, what does it hurt?
My husband watched it too. So I guess if I'm going to hell for watching it at least I won't be alone. And my husband would also like everyone to know that if our daughter went on that show we would be the parents on the 10 o'clock news getting arrested for kidnapping their kid and driving her across state lines tied up in the back seat. And we're only kind of joking.