Sunday Sunday Sunday.

Ladies and Jellyspoons, it's PostSecret day. Here are my faves, such as I promised.

Some things you can't control. Some things you must offer up to the hilarious gods.

How else would they know about the He-Man underpants, the thumb-sucking, and the stack of porn....i mean...what?



I'm sure someone somewhere on the Enterprise thought they, too, had a crappy job at one point. Just goes to show you never know who's admiring you...

And my secret for the week:

Whenever I'm doing my ribbon wand routine in Block Party, I pretend all the scooter boys going by are racecars and I'm the sexy checkered flag girl.

Throwback

Listen. JT said he was bringing "sexy" back. To be honest, I was unaware that "sexy" had left. So before JT, was I thinking I was occasionally sexy, but in fact, was not? How embarrassing. Moving on, I've come to realize there are a few blasts from the past that need to make a comeback. Here's the short list:

Dangerous playgrounds

Because safety is not fun. The more old tires and rusty screws and tetanus, the better.

This Songlist

1. Aquarius/Let the Sunshine In: This is one of the only non-sexual songs I can think of where clothing is optional.

2. The entire Jagged Little Pill album: These emotions will never go out of style. And every time I scratch my nails down someone else's back, he will feel it.


3. Benny and the Jets: 27 Dresses made an attempt to spotlight this jam. I caught on.

4. The Hustle: One the whole family can dance to, regardless of who knows the actual dance. And don't act like you don't love whispering "Do it."

5. Copacabana: What a gripping tale about Lola the showgirl. And a very catchy bongo line. Even the most uncoordinated people can suddenly salsa when this one pops up.

6. All Night Long: For whatever reason I think of the Flintstones dancing with a sombrero. idk. But this is a great song.

7. Time of the Season: This song is hot. I can't put my finger on the why, but it's hot in a dark hallway, catwalking, put down your cocktail kind of a way.

Spats

Stop cringing because they remind you of Mary Poppins and/or Trolley. You love your jobs. Focus on the spats. I'm planning on single-handedly bringing back spats. How dapper and classy and stylish are these smart shoe items? And they can instantly turn a pair of pumps into boots! I love them.

PostSecret

It's SuperBowl Sunday! Which means....PostSecret has some fresh new secrets to share with the world. (I actually don't really care about the SuperBowl. Sorry.) So here are my faves and what I have to say about them:
I'm that way about brushing my teeth. But I'm rarely in this predicament, so....

I just got a package of empty wine bottles. That would've pissed him off.

OR Mercury in retrograde!!!

And my secret of the week:

The smell of automobile exhaust makes me kind of excited because I think I'm somewhere important enough for there to be a lot of traffic...like New York City.

It's a new day...

It's okay, guys. Mercury is no longer in retrograde. Which means one less excuse to be an a**hole. But you can all come out of your homes now. Until May. Then it happens again.

PostSecret

So this week's Post Secret was slightly flat. The secrets were honest and simple, but I've seen better from underneath America's rug. So here are the few that I did enjoy:

This is the opposite side of the card that read "Why does travelling make me so freaking horny?" The reason I like this is because it's written on a safety information pamphlet. I wonder if this person was turned on by the US Airways Hudson incident? ...too soon?

I use my company's paint refurbishment projects to get high...involuntarily.

Is this a picture of what I think it is?

And here's my secret for the week:

I think I would do really well on the Real World.

Log 3

Allow me first and foremost to apologize for my tardiness in updating my postings. Allow me secondly to introduce myself to the followers who have been caught in the world wide web of lies that is this blog. My name is Sofia Loren and I am the housecat of the Medusa that publishes this blog. I frequently post journalings of my pursuit to escape these confines, but have been on a small hiatus. Rest assured much has happened since I've last logged. Allow me to regale you:
I'll begin with the Christmas season. This has got to be the strangest time of year. I fail to recognize any occasion where trees should be kept inside. I was thrown at first by the foreign aroma but soon found it useful to practice my jungle climbing skills for when I return to the rainforests of South America. I was improving until Medusa sprayed me with a toxin that bittered my tastebuds to the core. I rebelled by removing all of the dangling objects from both trees (that's right, there were two). Littering the floor with these glass balls and sharp objects was all in an attempt to injure my captors, but my effors were to no avail. I decided that a better approach was to demonstrate my wrath and ferocity on an even more annoying Christmas chachki, a caroling frog, pictured above. (Panthers kill frogs in the rainforest, right?)

And now I must be vulnerable for a minute. Underneath my sleek, cunning, athletic exterior, there is fear. Only one, no room for two. That fear is the vacuum cleaner. Things go in and never come out. That is terrifying. As much as I want to escape, that seems like a torturous way to go. Today, Medusa performed surgery on the vacuum cleaner and the smell was horrific. I believe it was the smell of death and lost souls.

Moving on, I'm brought to the subject of jewelry making, one of Medusa's hobbies. How cruel is it to sit amongst small shiney objects and NOT be allowed to self-stimulate? (or play, as lesser intelligent beings might say). What is even crueler is being forced to wear such jewelry. A chain around the neck is the signature of captivity. Naturally, I made an effort to remove it with my mighty incisors. Howsoe'er, the chain was fit the perfect size so that my jaw was locked underneath the chain with my sharp tooth caught in the link! Medusa did not know how long I was like this, mouth open wide, throat drying, unable to speak, unable to look up. I could only walk and sit. Perhaps this was her evil plan to choke me into submission. Miraculously, she freed me. And I've been on high alert since then. Ladies and Gentlemen, I'm lucky to be alive.

So on that note, I leave you with this advice: Do not wear Medusa's jewelry.

Probaby a bad idea

So today is roughly the peak of Mercury being in retrograde. By all means, I should have stayed in bed all day wrapped in bubble wrap, as I was advised. But I only made it to noon. Because then I decided to give Mercury the finger and be productive by cleaning/redecorating my room and bathroom. (And by redecorate, I mean hang a few different pictures on the walls. I wasn't gonna go crazy on a day like today.) But Mercury had other plans. Starting with the vacuum, my trusty dirt devil. I plug it in and go about my business until I smell something rancid. Checking the filter, I decided it needs to be emptied because it was at capacity. A few sneezes and a messy kitchen floor later, I'm thinking it's working like a dream. Until the smell returns and I realize it's not picking up anything. So I flip the thing over and the roller isn't even turning. Instead of saying "okay, this is just broken, let it go, buy a new vacuum, pick everything up by hand," I get out my toolbox and gut the sucker. Soon I found myself sitting in a pile of dusty hair and crap amidst tools and parts I didn't even know existed. The smell, I found out, was burning rubber from the broken and melted belt, mixed with burnt hair, I'm sure. And now that smell was in my bedroom. I managed to put it back together, and resigned to the fact that the vacuum was lost. So I lit some candles in it's memory, and to rid my sanctuary of the foul stench.
...It okay, though, because we had another vacuum cleaner all along.... figures.