Once upon a time,
there was a little girl.
And she had a little curl…
…right in the middle of her forehead.
Then she realized that blow dryers and hair salons existed. Ergo, she no longer was just very very good when she was being good. Nor was she completely horrid when she was being bad.
Just like the Big Bad Wolf, who, in children’s fairy tale books remain to be the quintessential villain. But in Angela Carter’s The Company of Wolves, wolverine-ish qualities suddenly became hotter than Jude Law. (Remember not to let your children read that particular short story unless you’re ready to explain where babies really come from.)
I have a certain affinity with wolves. I sympathize with their plight as their predecessors failed to hire really good consultants, agents, and publicists. Like Dracula who suffers from the image of being an unforgiving bloodthirsty bastard of an immortal, wolves are just as misunderstood as vampires.
Even former little girls who used to have curls on their foreheads could grow up to be contradictions in a moment.
Because I took pity on Dad, I agreed to bake another chocolate cake last Friday–half of which I am sentenced to eat. And because March 22 is looming nearer and nearer (I refuse to be FAT when Mom arrives), I hurriedly packed 2/3’s of the cake in little plastic boxes and gave them away. Then I can pretend to continue dieting. (Hah!)
The treadmill has become more than just an exercise machine. It has become The Enemy. Somehow, walking on fake ground, as I used to call it, produces intense attacks of boredom that couldn’t be appeased by loud music or movies like Kingdom of Heaven. Honestly, the movie probably made it worse. Orlando Bloom is cute but watching him fight with a sword made me want to scream desperately for his blond wig and elvish archer gear. =D Yes, admit it, we all want Legolas back.
By the time 10pm came, I realized that I had not started anything I promised to finish for that day. So I consoled my indignant conscience by watching whatever mindless reality TV show happened to be on, which just happened to be Joe Millionaire. And I was just lucky because it was the season finale. Hehe. I found out that Dad was an avid fan *lol* and I made him tell me the whole gruesome tale from the beginning. By the time David and Linda got together in their spanking new Texas ranch and exchanged I love you’s in impossible accents, I couldn’t help but grin. They were too cute to be kitschy.
Before we discovered who David chose to give the diamond ring to, Dad and I had a big argument about Cat and Linda. He was convinced that Cat, no matter how beautiful, sexy and smart she was, would not win because Linda was the type every guy wanted to marry. I was sure about Linda, too, but I was convinced that David would choose her because she was so funny, intelligent, and likeable and not because of Cat’s overflowing oozing sex appeal that even managed to affect the butler. Cat was too fake, and it was glaringly obvious in spite of the glamour.
On the other hand, I do not like this week. I am jumpy, impatient, and lazy this week. Do not entrust me with matters of life or death.
I wish weekend would come sooner. =D