Its approaching the hours that people refer to as “wee.” And I’m restless. At 8:30pm (most of you were probably gushing over the season finale of that irritating show called Glee) I was so freaking tired that I could barely carry myself upstairs to crawl into my nest (chauffeur Ants would have been nice here), and wouldn’t you know it, as soon as my head hit the pillow my mind started racing and sleep became forever out of reach. Even a Xanax didn’t help. All that did was make me start thinking about George Carlin. So I decided to read some of his quotes, which won’t likely put me to sleep, but that shit will forever be funny. During the Googling of George Carlin process I came across This guy is pretty freaking hilarious. Not to mention, did a post back in 2007 on 100 of George Carlin’s best quotes.

Some of my personal faves:

  • I wanna live. I don’t wanna die. That’s the whole meaning of life: Not dying! I figured that shit out by myself in the third grade.
  • The very existence of flamethrowers proves that sometime, somewhere, someone said to themselves, “You know, I want to set those people over there on fire, but I’m just not close enough to get the job done.”
  • So I say, “Live and let live.” That’s my motto. “Live and let live.” Anyone who can’t go along with that, take him outside and shoot the motherfucker. It’s a simple philosophy, but it’s always worked in our family.
  • Hooray for most things!

I agreed to be set up again today. I must be a masochist. That, or I am willing to take one for the team (that’s you) in order to bring you yet another recount of what will likely be another dating disaster. I’ve never been able to articulate what it is I am looking for, so how can someone else possibly know? I do, however, have a long and ever-growing list of what I am not looking for. I suppose one day, simple math says I will run out of things to not look for and either arrive at the Cadmus conclusion of a perfect man, or simply realize that one does not exist and go back to low expectations.

Meanwhile, my trainer decided it would be fun to hook me up to a bunch of wires and assess my fat content. Hmmm. I do not like this idea. Not one bit. After she sat me down and delivered the sad news, she gave me a print out of my results… I guess I am supposed to hang them on my fridge or something. Pretty sure I will ceremoniously sets them on fire. I suppose it did accomplish the goal of lighting a fire under my ass…which then accomplished her goal of getting me to spend the money I should be setting aside for taxes on another round of sessions with her. End of month and gotta meet quota? Break out the calipers and start pinching some fat.