All work and something something make Homer something something

I'm not keeping up with my internal promise to update the blog every two days, but it's funny how something as simple as sitting down and writing something that doesn't even seem to follow a stream of consciousness becomes cumbersome to do more than a few times a week. I'm sorry, loyal readers and peripheral well-wishers, I aspire to do better.

I found my iPod. I'm very excited. If you were to look at the last playlist I created and the one that I will wear out until it tires me, you would think I was musically schizophrenic. But if you are, in fact, a loyal reader, you know that there is a monkey DJ in my head who does suffer somewhat from a multiple personality disorder. The songs on my iPod range from "Ring of Fire" by Johnny Cash to nearly the entire soundtrack of "Rocky Horror Picture Show," to Blind Melon to Frank Sinatra, and I love them all; and find that starting my day on the ride to work listening to my Sybil-esque playlist seems to alleviate the stress of the day..ooh, and Madonna, how could I forget her? She is my fall back when nothing else works. Which reminds me that when I was in middle school, I once recorded myself on a Fisher Price tape recorder singing "Dress You Up" and called my current crush and played it. Well, I played part of it, but I think he hung up after the first verse. Ah, the good 'ol days before Caller ID.

Speaking of the Fisher Price tape recorder, I also recorded myself singing Annie's "Tomorrow," because my mother cut my hair off when I was about 6 and forced me to suffer through Ogilvie home perms administered by my grandmother, which caused an actual Afro. Then, she made me sing in talent competitions. If I hadn't been so awkward and markedly untalented, we might've had whatever Toddlers and Tiaras turn into at age 8, but thank God after losing for the 3rd time to someone not much more talented than I singing "Rocky Top,"  a song which still haunts my dreams, she finally heard me say, "No means no." This is part of the reason why A. I refuse to ever cut my hair above shoulder length (although that's also because I look like a super butchy lesbian with short hair, and B. Pageants and talent competitions kind of creep me out.

I'm getting the old thyroid checked tomorrow. Well, actually, I'm going to the dr and saying "Take all the blood you need, check my thyroid, my blood sugar, my hormones, my cholesterol, my gravy to blood percentage, my prostate, whatever you got..." I have had swollen ankles for nearly a month, have possibly lost one pound that I gain back every day, and I'm getting cranky. If all of those things come out normally, she's giving me a new diet that includes carbs. My body needs carbs. You can't live a decent life without pasta or potatoes. Ask Sophia Loren; she's 400 years old, and people still think she's sexy. That's spaghetti..she's said it herself.