Do you remember that episode of Friends where Chandler discovers Monica's Closet? She had a closet full of all the crap or as she tries to justify it "things that defy categorization" and therefore do not fit among the organized things in her world. Yes her dirty little/big, secret. Literally.
Yes, well I have a Monica closet.
In fact I have five Monica closets. I opened one the other day, saw Jimmy Hoffa playing chess with Jim Morrison and decided it wasn't worth the pain or legal work or notoriety to clean it out. For all I know, I have a band of gypsys living in the one near the front door and Narnia at the back of the one in our bedroom. I figure cleaning out the mess will prevent any magic from forming in the confines of these walls so I'm actually doing us all a favour. The world needs more magic and dust bunnies.
Hey, did I mention we only have five closets in this apartment? You probably already guessed that.
How come no one told me about this Minute Rice shit? Seriously, precooked rice in a box that can't be burnt by absent-minded and reluctant cooks? Humans are amazing with the inventions they produce. Who invented this stuff? I want to give her a hug.
Hey, if you are going to rain on my Minute Rice parade, please don't tell me it causes the shits or prolonged exposure will make me shoot ray beams from my eyes. Just, just -- please don't. I'm still recovering from the Olestra debacle of 98. Let me discover this one on my own, even if it's messy. The lesson will stick better that way.
Now this Minute Rice hussy will never replace my basmati but damn, that stuff is super fine. If I could, I'd buy it dinner at a non-fast food restaurant and take it to a full-price movie before establishing it as my main booty call. Because trust me, it will be a booty call but I promise I'll whisper sweet nothings into it's unusually white husks as long as it keeps me from having to actually cook.
So how was your weekend?
That's interesting. Okay, now it's my turn: Do you know how I knew this last weekend was going to be awesometasic? I knew at 5pm on Friday when my daughter started to complain of a headache and then she said her stomach hurt. Of course this was right after we had finalized an awesome line up of family fun activities for the weekend -- not that plans can't be cancelled but seriously, it was moments after we had just said "see you in the morning" to friends. By six she was burning up and begging to go to bed. My child -- begging to go to bed while the sun was still in the sky and without the benefit of bribes. Last time she wanted to sleep this badly, she had pneumonia.
Well this time there was no pneumonia but I'm sure there's still time. Still lots of freakin' time. I should shut up before the Universe hands me something else.
On that note: Seacrest out.