The Amazing Farce

Music: Daphne loves Derby “ Hopeless Love”

Colour: Incarnations of crimson

Mood: her shoes are still by the door but her corporeal being has disappeared. Lost in Translations perhaps.
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After sitting through the two-hour finale of the Amazing Race, I am furious. The model douche-bag squad won through lying, cheating, deceit and general ill will towards the rest of the members playing the game. I’m irked. I had my fingers crossed for the all- around virtuous team (Kris & Jon) and once again I was bitch-slapped with the realization that the world is not a fair place. Life makes it painfully obvious that the most deserving ones rarely see the light of victory.

(grr)

On other topics for the day, today is my day of atonement – I have officially penciled in my “gym” thereby making it a date (with me, myself, I and 60 other sweaty women). I plan to work my little heart out because quite frankly the lack of motion in my life is starting to make itself excruciatingly apparent. My friends are the greatest unwitting charlatans, you can’t really trust them when it comes to games like “rate my looks”. They’re all biased you see – they love me blindly, thereby not realizing that a life with no movement can transform a beautiful swan into an ugly duckling. (super-sized at that too!)

Three cheers for good intentions.

Words: the real conspiriologists. They connive to leave me writhing in pain as I attempt to birth a fabulous piece of conceptual art. Unfortunately, 9 out of the 10 that do survive the grotesque birthing process end up falling short at some point of the game.

Be warned: perception mixed with expectations can be quite deceptive to the naked eye.

My goal (well our goal – B’s & mine that is): To increase our chances by participating in some Lamaze-esque practices – to faciliatate the slow and organic birth of precious light bulbs with the sparkle of brilliance in their new born eyes. It’s on its way – I can feel it (I sure hope it doesn’t get stuck in that treacherously long birth canal).

Now if we only had something comparable to an epidural, we would be in business folks!.

B is a saint to put up with my snarky behind.

Be blessed.