Well Rachel. Speaking of blogging, I actually do feel like doing it.

I hate mosquitoes. You know this. I think they are Satan’s henchmen, and they lurk with their barely visible bodies, taunting you with their hovering capabilities, attacking when you least expect it, so light that you can’t even feel them, and they SUCK YOUR BLOOD STRAIGHT OUT OF YOUR BODY. And then, they’re gone before you see them. But they make you know they were there. Ohooo do they make sure. Like a serial killer leaves behind his signature to take credit for the kill (i.e., yin yang killer), they leave their mark. The infamous and dreaded mosquito bite. You have this ugly red blotch on your body for days that itches so much you want to die, and every time you look at yourself, you remember the silent attack that you couldn’t even see, let alone fend off. Then to top it all off, you get malaria. How does one minute creature cause so much upheaval?!?! Anyway, I got work today and had eight mosquito bites on my legs and feet. Feet, Rachel. Do you know the physical and psychological pain this causes me? WHERE WERE THEY? All I can do is sit here and think about where my enemies were hiding before they ravaged my body with their evil suckers. WHERE ARE THE MOSQUITOES?!?!? Are they in my apartment? My bed? My shower? Can I go home in safety this evening or do I have to be in full-on combat mode? I NEED TO KNOWWWWW.

Look at all those caps. I read an article today in the Times about how using all caps and excess periods in blogging is a distinctly white thing to do. You know, like I LOVE JUSTIN BIEBER or i.love.justin.bieber. Hashtags are more black, according to this one supposedly expert dude. They have even transitioned into rap music. Which is actually quite fascinating.

My workie got feathers put in her hair at the salon. You know how that’s in. Fake feathers that they somehow weave into your hair that last a few weeks and look delightfully boho chic. Then she told me about her friends that put real feathers in their hair. “Real feathers?” I ask, “Like from a real bird?” “Well,” she says, “do you remember that road kill story?” RACHEL. These people took feathers off a piece of road kill and put them in their hair!!!!! I think they might have eaten the road kill too… apparently they’re real hippie types who live off the land. I saw an episode of Dirty Jobs once about the guy whose job it is to collect road kill off the roads. He then takes it to some hicksville (hi Danny) roadside joint where they make it into stew. Whatevs, if the meat is fresh…

Speaking of Danny, he texted me. He got a job. What a delight. I wished unemployment on him, but apparently it didn’t work. I just wanted him to come to Amy Day 2011…. are you coming. ARE YOU COMING?????

I am over halfway done with season 2 of Buffy. I had myself quite a little marathon this weekend. Angel’s character is so deep and provocative… DB, you are such a star. A star! DB is, of course, David Boreanaz.

I’ve discovered when I listen to latin music in the car, I try to salsa while I drive. It might be dangerous.

Be praying for Joplin, MO. What a tragedy. Makes me think of Sodom and Gomorrah. I wonder what was going on there that made God wipe it out… that, of course, is just a train of thought.

I will have an Asian baby.

Bye!
Becca

P.S. Changed the look of the blog. Hope you don't mind.