Monday Morning
Bumper sticker we saw on the way to school: “Republicans for Voldemort.”
This was while the annoying male DJ on Houston’s most popular Top 40 radio show sneaked “God” into his morning blather for the zillionth time since the election of George W. Bush. This DJ just got back from the $40MM Inauguration Extravaganza. I keep wanting to call in during, say, “Bachelorette talk” and say, “Oh, I know! I can’t believe she picked him, either. The Buddha works in mysterious ways…”
On the other morning radio show we listen to – the Top 40 But Minus the Rap station – they asked listeners to identify the ten top-grossing movies of all time. “Star Wars!” said one stupid woman for Jurassic Park and two other movies that weren’t Star Wars. Then, when they gave her the clue for Star Wars, she didn’t know it. The annoying female DJ blamed her annoying male cohort for giving difficult clues. He said that he refused to dumb down the game anymore than he already had. That made me laugh. Most of their listeners probably didn’t realize he was calling them dumb, though.
Why do my kids and I listen to two dumb radio stations every morning? So we can have a direction in which to vent our scorn.
Sunday Afternoon
Yesterday I had one of my best drives to Austin, ever. It was cold but I couldn’t feel it because the sun was shining so hard through my windows. But it wasn’t shining in my eyes, so it was good. Also, some of the previously blocked highway miles had been opened up, exposing smooth-as-glass asphalt to my sprawling tires. Also, the songs on the CD player were my most sing-along-able ones.
Monday Morning Again
So now I’m back at work again, this time with a pinched nerve or pulled muscle in my lower back that hurts like hell when I get out of any chair. I brought my (borrowed, old, very heavy) laptop so I could work on my new book at lunch time. But my back wouldn’t let me carry it and walk faster than ten steps a minute through the parking garage. So I had to abandon the whole thing – banish it back to the trunk. My whole book, minus the 30 pages I still need to write, is on a floppy in my purse.
I have a salad of my own making for lunch. Bagged romaine mix, cold pieces of the roasted chicken Tad left for me in the refrigerator, grated parmesan, and Green Goddess dressing, which sounds sexier than it is. Also, I have diet black cherry soda and diet ginger ale. Also, I have zillions of Atkins bars and Atkins fake candy. Mm, mm, good.
