Ugh. America's Next Top Model marathon on VH1 today. I'm so addicted to that show that it's ridiculous. Kinda pathetic, actually. There strut thin models and here I sit, engorging myself on cookies and milk. Every single time I watch it, though, I feel five million times smarter because of some of the idiocy that presents itself on that show. It's too fun.
Plus, as I stated in the novel I left to Sarah, I love fashion and shopping and hair and makeup and heels and... ahh. It sounds wasteful and shallow, but besides acting, reading, writing, painting, sculpting, playing and/or listening to music, it's my escape! Escape from what... I'm not sure. So it's so neat to watch all these gorgeous clothes from famous designers and the wild makeup come to life, instead of just seeing them on the pages of Vogue.
Speaking of magazines, National Geographic is dangerous for me. I keep having to go online to see the Tut exhibit and stuff. I found a place that teaches Middle Egyptian Hieroglyphs, which would make my copy of the Book of the Dead much more fun. See, it has a translation of the glyphs underneath, but it'd be great to test my knowledge. I don't know how much it'd help me with the tombs in the Valley of the Kings, since I'm pretty sure that was during the New Kingdom, but it couldn't stray too far from the original language. Granted, I can't understand a lot of Canadian or Louisianna French though French it is, but I'd like to remain optimistic. I can't get enough of the History Channel. All three hours on Alexander the Great. I admit it. I watched it all.
Just like I watched ANTM all day, too.
Maybe I need to get off my butt and away from my tv. To the Y, maybe? I want to clean my brother's room tomorrow, and give my dogs a bath. Add to my sunburn. Maybe read a little. Hardy's killing me... I keep wanting to read, and keep skipping ahead, and loosing the will to read, and setting it down, and wanting to read again. I already know everything that's going to happen, but for the very end. And it's taking me far too long to finish. Next I should read something from the "love, blood, and rhetoric school" (thank you, Tom Stoppard!). Something overwhelmingly French. Not Camus, though. I'm not in a Camus mood.
I'm really never in a Camus mood, now that I consider it.
I am in the mood for icecream. Even after feeling fat from America's Next Top Model. And even if you've seen me and don't think I'm fat, you just can't tell because I'm so tall. Pttth.
Title's from Seinfeld. Read it all in one breath. Have fun with that.