do you believe in planets?

do you believe in pants?!?!?

I think I'll finally move forward with the blog re-naming.  Any last minute pitches?  Remember, your entry/nominee must keep with the DYBIP in my url.  "Did You Bust it, Prissypants?"  is leading the pack right now.  I dig "Do Your Bitching in Private" for the irony.  I also like "Damn!  Yo' Bitch is Pregnant!" for sheer rudeness.  "Drag Your Business Into Public" is great, but awkwardly crammed into the acronym.

Feelin' Elastic was blogging about the narcissism inherent to blogging.  It's unavoidable. Even if you're not blogging about yourself, there you are, blogging, as yourself.  And while I think I've almost killed off the very last of my urges to purge on the internet through the clusterf@#$ that is Facebook (which in part accounts for the piss-poor activity here at DYBIP), I have no desire to pull down the blog.  None.  Despite how good ol' Mr. Blog is reduced to a herky-jerky procession of tricks and gags, specially designed to shut down interchange and real "reaching out," hammering my dwindling readership with relentless irony, hard-to-swallow-in-comparison earnestness, self-deprecation, shameless bragging, even more shameless exhibitionism in tandem with extreme caginess, etc. That and tennis.  And the occasional "DO WANT!" fashion blog. Despite all that.  Here my blog remains.  Staring out into them internets with unblinking eyes.

No one noticed that I didn't blog the Aussie Open.  I did follow it, though. And then came the tears.  OH, the tears. 

Anyway.

::crickets chirping::

Here's a picture:

Yeah, there's always that.

I got "the email"

and now I'm a little weepy. Totally DON'T wanna talk about it.

Bye.

Self-indulge much? Yeeeeees.

I don't teach on Monday, Wednesday, or Friday, and Tuesday was a snow day*, so technically I had a one-day work-week this week.
Of course, the snow day blew all of Sunday's and Monday's prep work out the window, so I spent Wednesday reprepping to cram four hours of material into two hour lectures (for two courses), but on Snow Day proper, I enoyed quite the time with a bunch of work-free friends. My Father's Place bloody marys and free whiskeys at one o'clock in the afternoon can only lead to one narrative cliche: "hijinks ensued."

Thursday I worked, but more importantly: yesterday, exhausted by Thursday's teach-a-thon, I indulged in hours upon hours of Australian Open** action, on my new black leather sofa, with my kitty on my lap, with the dining room still not painted and laundry to do, the dishwater beeping to be emptied and the stomach growling to be fed, I just plain didn't move for hours and hours and hours. Didn't go to the gym as planned, didn't even brew coffee--made one cup on the crappy Senseo thing we got for Christmas, then J brought me a 12-ounce serving from Goldrush (the "coffee bar" he "works" at) at 2 pm or so (by which time I had already logged a good 4 hours of sitting). Jamey even made dinner, which is such a rarety that I had to stick my finger into the plate of food in front of me before I'd believe it was real.***

Don't let all this "I sat for hours" shit lead you to the mistaken conclusion that I am suicidally depressed or plan to buy a trailer and start smoking Kools. In light of all the fit hitting the shan lately, I have a tepid agreement with myself to lay low and stare vacantly out of windows until everything blows over. So that's what I'm doing. My point where y'all are concerned is that this bout of continous sitting means I FINALLY dumped a bunch of photos from NYE, NYEE, and NYEEE in Chicago (plus one measly photo from my trip to Madison) onto Flickr. So, you know, make me happy and check them out. More will gradually trickle on today, namely those preserving in digital The Great Frosting Fight of the 06/07 Divide.

Enjoy.