Sometimes...
Sometimes I walk around my apartment wearing my pants pulled up above my navel -- nearly all the way up to my armpits -- looking like Harry Highpants or that old battleaxe Tina Too-high Wood (former colleague). Of course, it only works with pants or shorts that have a lot of "give" to them and let me do this without doing any permanent damage. Editor's note: I live alone, so it's OK. Nobody sees me. I think.
Sometimes I wonder what Sally Struthers is doing. Is she on food stamps? Working at Wal-Mart? Manning the Information counter at a mall? Doing local dinner theatre for fun? Turning tricks? Just wondering, cuz it must really suck going from one of the most visible celebrities on TV to....well, to whatever it is she's doing today.
Sometimes I think I could do a better job of being Posh Spice than Posh Spice. Imagine the life: rich beyond belief, married to Mr. Beckham, recording singles that nobody buys (but who really cares how many you sell when you're already rich?), launching perfumes and clothing lines at will. In fact, I think I've discovered the secret to being Posh, er Victoria. Whenever there's a camera around, it's all about the posturing -- the fake, pursed-lip, fabulously-sunken-cheekbones, slightly-squinted-eyes look. Jeepers, I can do that! Next time you see me, ask me to do my Vacuous Victoria look. You'll be amazed at the uncanny resemblance. Yup, I reckon I'd be way better at being Posh than she is.
Sometimes I wonder why Paris Hilton is famous. I know, I know, I'm not the only one. But seriously, what's the deal with her? On a related note, Paris is on The OC next week and Ten is trumpeting the hell out of that little fact. She's just a tool.
Sometimes I wonder why I don't swim more efficiently than I do. I mean, I can swim a looong way, but it's usually really slow and inefficient (and, I'm sure, painful to watch). I watched once while this really good swimmer was doing laps at Andrew "Boy" Charlton Pool and he took 28 strokes for one 50-metre lap. I take, on average, 60 strokes to cover the same distance. How pathetic!
Sometimes I think I'm a great prognosticator. I've been telling my friend Will since last January that he should keep his eye on Aussie tennis player Alicia Molik. January is when she played some great matches at both the Hopman Cup and the Australian Open. And since then she's had her failures, but has also taken an Olympic bronze; won (as of today) 10 consecutive tour matches, including the last two WTA Tier 1 tournaments; raised her world ranking from #35 to #12; and really established herself as a rising player. I foresaw this improvement. Quite simply, I'm a gifted prognosticator.
Sometimes I think the girl that lives next door to me is the most inconsiderate neighbour ever. And she's got one of those really annoying put-on English accents that seems destined to drive me insane every time it's raised a few notches just because she's talking on her mobile phone. Damnit, annoying girl, your friends can hear you just as easily if you're talking at normal levels. Oh ya, and she walks around in heels on her hardwood floor, and always slams the door.
Sometimes I think I'd like to have big muscles. And then I realize that I don't want to go to the gym to get them. If I could just buy them, on the other hand, then maybe I'd be in business.
Sometimes I laugh when I recall calling Australian Immigration one time and hearing a recording on the other end say, "Welcome and thanks for calling Domino's Pizza, Elizabeth Street. One of our operators will be with you shortly."
Sometimes I wonder why I'm not into video games. Never have been; probably never will be. I mean, I'm comfortable with it but sometimes just wonder why.
Sometimes I wonder why my computer is so freakin' slow!
Sometimes I wonder what Sally Struthers is doing. Is she on food stamps? Working at Wal-Mart? Manning the Information counter at a mall? Doing local dinner theatre for fun? Turning tricks? Just wondering, cuz it must really suck going from one of the most visible celebrities on TV to....well, to whatever it is she's doing today.
Sometimes I think I could do a better job of being Posh Spice than Posh Spice. Imagine the life: rich beyond belief, married to Mr. Beckham, recording singles that nobody buys (but who really cares how many you sell when you're already rich?), launching perfumes and clothing lines at will. In fact, I think I've discovered the secret to being Posh, er Victoria. Whenever there's a camera around, it's all about the posturing -- the fake, pursed-lip, fabulously-sunken-cheekbones, slightly-squinted-eyes look. Jeepers, I can do that! Next time you see me, ask me to do my Vacuous Victoria look. You'll be amazed at the uncanny resemblance. Yup, I reckon I'd be way better at being Posh than she is.
Sometimes I wonder why Paris Hilton is famous. I know, I know, I'm not the only one. But seriously, what's the deal with her? On a related note, Paris is on The OC next week and Ten is trumpeting the hell out of that little fact. She's just a tool.
Sometimes I wonder why I don't swim more efficiently than I do. I mean, I can swim a looong way, but it's usually really slow and inefficient (and, I'm sure, painful to watch). I watched once while this really good swimmer was doing laps at Andrew "Boy" Charlton Pool and he took 28 strokes for one 50-metre lap. I take, on average, 60 strokes to cover the same distance. How pathetic!
Sometimes I think I'm a great prognosticator. I've been telling my friend Will since last January that he should keep his eye on Aussie tennis player Alicia Molik. January is when she played some great matches at both the Hopman Cup and the Australian Open. And since then she's had her failures, but has also taken an Olympic bronze; won (as of today) 10 consecutive tour matches, including the last two WTA Tier 1 tournaments; raised her world ranking from #35 to #12; and really established herself as a rising player. I foresaw this improvement. Quite simply, I'm a gifted prognosticator.
Sometimes I think the girl that lives next door to me is the most inconsiderate neighbour ever. And she's got one of those really annoying put-on English accents that seems destined to drive me insane every time it's raised a few notches just because she's talking on her mobile phone. Damnit, annoying girl, your friends can hear you just as easily if you're talking at normal levels. Oh ya, and she walks around in heels on her hardwood floor, and always slams the door.
Sometimes I think I'd like to have big muscles. And then I realize that I don't want to go to the gym to get them. If I could just buy them, on the other hand, then maybe I'd be in business.
Sometimes I laugh when I recall calling Australian Immigration one time and hearing a recording on the other end say, "Welcome and thanks for calling Domino's Pizza, Elizabeth Street. One of our operators will be with you shortly."
Sometimes I wonder why I'm not into video games. Never have been; probably never will be. I mean, I'm comfortable with it but sometimes just wonder why.
Sometimes I wonder why my computer is so freakin' slow!
conceived, scrawled, heavily edited, carefully reconsidered, left for a while to digest, edited once more, and then ultimately posted by: just call me jeff at
10:21 p.m.
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