And no, I haven't shaved my legs

I like open letter entries - they're fun to read and they're fun to write. Especially if one is a crappy writer *cough*likeme*cough* and does better with a rant than a narrative.

Anyway, for the past week, I've had a series of open letter entries semi-composed in my head. I sat down to write them out, but then realized they'd be a bit repetitive. Check it out:

Dear Lady in Front of Me on Mopac:

Fuck you.

Sincerely,
Laura

Dear Teenager in Starbucks:

Nice bag. Fuck you.

Sincerely,
Laura

Dear Hair, Big ass, Blister on my Toe, and Back Fat:

Fuck you, you, you and especially YOU.

Sincerely,
Laura

I think you get the point. The Mood over here has been so monumentally bad that I almost wrote one of these to TBFD. Why? Because he lives in Dallas. No other offense.

Then yesterday, it started raining and thundering and lightning and the power went out at Border's before I could check out and as I was leaving I realized that even though I'd have to go back to get my books, I was in a good mood. I was chipper! And cheerful! I still wanted the dude driving down the MIDDLE OF THE LANE in the parking lot to die a festering death, but I muttered my "fuck you, assmunch" CHEERFULLY! With a smile on my face! 'Twould appear that I've moved from getting horrible killer migraines when the barometric pressure shifts to getting grumpy and semi-suicidal. I'm not entirely sure this is an improvement, but it does make life interesting.

(Note to self - stock up on chocolate, wine and fashion magazines before the rainy season starts.)

I've spent today doing pretty much nothing. Let's see, I made the breakfast equivalent of shit on a shingle (mushrooms and sausage in a cream gravy over biscuits - it'll cure what ails ya) and burned my finger in the process.

Yeah - did you know that roux gets really fuckin' hot and that just sticking the end of your finger in it to taste it is really damn dumb??

On another note, I never realized a blister could form that quickly. Heh.

I've also spent just about all damn day reading the archives over at Fussy. Why? I do not know. But I have this weird thing I do, where I start at the very beginning of a site and then read the pages in chronological order (January '02, February '02, etc) but I read them from the top down (Friday, Thursday, Wednesday, etc.) So I'm reading them...inside-out? Upside-down? I dunno. But it kills a slow-ass Sunday.

I'm currently sitting on the floor, back against the couch, legs propped up on one of those seating cube thingies, laptop in my...well, lap. I'm watching a Law & Order re-run and drinking the last bit of one bottle of red. There's Italian sausage defrosted and the last bit of another bottle of wine in the fridge. My kid is up in Round Rock, visiting friends and has been told that somebody else needs to bring her home, since I hauled her and her friends back and forth twice yesterday.

In other words, you people are lucky I took a shower today and a bra ain't touchin' this bod till tomorrow AM.

Hey! Feral Mom, wanna hang with me?? Bring more wine, I'm almost out.