writer's block.

i don't like a man in a white belt. 

oh, come one. you know what i'm talking about. 

there is a very specific man (or should i say...young gentleman) that wears a belt of white...cloth, is it? think hard. dig into the annals (or animals) of your memory. you know what i am talking about. 

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on some days people can only reasonably be held accountable for two things. getting out of bed. and showering. i have yet to do the latter. 

oh, and i do need to go the bank.

but i'm washing my black suit. that should count for something? yes, yes, ladies...i'm practically a businesswoman, i wear a suit to work. unfortunately, it's the same suit. everyday. and if they had any idea how often it it taken to the dry cleaners, or put in at the local laundromat...hmmm...hmm.mmmm.mm.

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i'm starting to think all potential boyfriends, lovers, people-i-care-to-call-my-friend should be pre-screened. i sit behind a closed circuit television, watching, as they interact in a restaurant setting.

husband-to-be,

i know you'll pass with flying colors, but just so you feel prepared here's the cliff notes:

1. semantics are important. these chips are stale is very different from, would it be possible to get a new bowl of chips, these seem a little stale.

2. when someone addresses you, acknowledge that. servers, hosts, busboys and the lot are not just part of the furniture, or props as you play out your meal. 

3. don't be a jerk. most people feel okay to do this in a restaurant. it's like all normal, civilized behavior goes out the window...don't fall into this trap.

love you lots, 

wifey-who-hates-being-treated-poorly-for-no-reason-at-all

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i'm thinking of buying a foldable bike.

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i'm thinking this writer's block is a holdover of mercury in retrograde. look it up. 

and so i've abandoned this blogspot lover of mine. even had a few fights with him. and i've stopped responding to you're unbelievably kind comments or commenting on you're unbelievably exciting blogs. but i'm coming round. i hope. rousing from this slumber.

thanks for not giving up on me.

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off to shower.

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photo by Henry Clarke