Geoff, I KNEW You Couldn't Resist

For the record, my cold is gone, but I’m continuing to drink Airborne b/c it tastes good. Is that weird?

Anyway, three random things before I talk about the lovely birthday dinner that I had with the surrogates last night.

--I downloaded a ring tone y-day (inspired by Sauj, thanks friend) – Promiscuous Girl by Nelly. Well actually it’s the part where she sings so it’s Promiscuous Boy, but whatever. It makes me giggle and blush a little when it rings. But I downloaded yesterday late afternoon in the office. Didn’t realize though when it downloads that it would actually PLAY the music, but it does. I quickly snapped my phone shut, which stopped the download. Because I rarely learn from my mistakes (and I’m really tempted to write about my personal life here but I’ll resist), I of course began downloading one more time, and of course it happened again, and it was obnoxious….again.

--This morning, on the radio, I heard the following commercial snippet: “Do you text message so often that you have well-developed thumb muscles? Then DeVry University is for you!” I changed the station after that…but is this effective marketing? Somehow, I don’t feel like it speaks highly of a university if they are searching for candidates whose most outstanding skill is their ability to text. I mean, I’m SURE they had a good point, surely they did…but it was lost on me just a little bit. I don’t know. I signed up for UCLA when I heard it’s a really good place for people that go to pasties-pool-parties.

--I also heard a song that includes the following song lyrics: “You're the typa girl I wanna roll with tonight / I'm at the Double Tree / I got an early flight…” Wow, SEXY!!! Seriously, I hear you’re at the Double Tree and all I wanna do is come by your room and do it. Because the Double Tree just SCREAMS sex. Really, it does. I can think of no bigger turn on. Except maybe my glass of AirBorne. Or, maybe my calculator. Or like any other random object sitting on my desk.

Hmm. Guess what. Now that I’ve written about this mostly pointless stuff, I really don’t feel like writing much more. Which is saying a lot as I typically can go for hours, if you know what I mean (that’s from a Pink song). I don’t though: for the record, inquiring minds have asked, and a typical blog entry takes about 20 minutes of my precious, precious time. And I know, they are long, but that is just the way I roll.

Anyway, I just need to note, that my real mom asked for my summer mom’s address last week cuz she wanted to send them a thank-you note for taking care of me. I forgot to do it last week. Then I get home y-day and real parents had sent me flowers. Ha! That is why you wanted the address. So sneaky. But anyway, when I called her after the flowers she was like “Yeah, you forgot to send the address, so I Googled Sylvia and found their address and phone number.” Jane, you’re an f’in Internet expert.

She then apparently called Sylvia and they chatted for what must have been at least 20 minutes about me given what my summer mom now knows about my life. She was even sure to tell them how much I hate family photos at restaurants but encouraged my summer dad to bring a camera to get plenty of shots of me smiling over my mahi. Mom, thanks, no really, that is a sincere thank you. The evening was quite pleasant though. I found that like my real mom, my summer mom could talk to a spoon for 3 hours straight, and my fake dad, like my real dad makes incredibly corny comments like, when the waiter asks if we’re three, “Yep! Unless you can find us a fourth!” (insert cymbal clash sound here). And of course the night would not have been complete without the waiter asking me if I am getting sick or something, pointing to his throat. I don’t explain anymore. I just said very briskly, “Nope. This is just the way I talk.”

Anyway, look at that. I wrote more. Hot damn. Ok, times up. Time to go continue working on my write up all about faucets and hotels. Sure is fun. Suuuuuuuuuuuuuureee is.