Bring it.

I'm feeling rather sparky these days which is pretty ironic considering I'm basically living off coffee, adrenaline and ciggs.  Went to see my optometrist last week and the first thing she said is "ooohhh...you're dehydrated.  Less coffee, more sleep."  Sure.  I will get right on that.  Bought me some Refresh Ultra to take care of the eye ball dehydration, and grabbed a Grande Americano with room from Starbucks to keep my brain functioning, and figured that should take care of that.


Seems I have a freckle on my left eye, 3 o'clock.  Nothing to be concerned about says the Dr., but it is interesting to note.  See, it's very common with brown eyes; not so common with blue, she tells me.  Fascinating.  Am I going to live?  Great.  That's all I need to know.


My eye sight has improved so I'm pleased as punch about that.  Still need to wear the suckers but not as often as I used to.  Little does she know that if I remember to even put them on it's a miracle.  But I have me a new prescription and I'm off to the races to find some new glasses.  That's always fun.  Bedazzled red frames, bring it!


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Are you wondering about the cigg reference above?  Yeah.  My 18th million attempt at quitting didn't quite cut it this time.  Ah well, there's always next time.  I hear the 19th million attempt is usually the successful one so that's what I'm going with.  Why stress. 


I saw my lit prof smoking outside last week.  Smokers have this funny little way of acknowledging one another, like we're part of this select little group.  It's an understanding of sorts.  Instant acceptance.  How wonderful for me that my lit prof and I share such an understanding.  The world is at my fingertips.  Literally.


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The boy had his very first date Saturday night. I don't think I was supposed to know but once he admitted he was going to see the new Twilight movie, the cat was out of the bag.  What 15 and a half yr old boy will admit to going to Twilight if not for a girl?  It was a blind date (well, as far as blind dates go with the likes of facebook and such), and he was being set up by his best friend's girlfriend.   


The girl's name is Brittany. She's 16.  (Oooooh an OLDER woman!!  The plot thickens.) 


Sunday morning I say:  "Sooooo!  How did it go?"


The boy says:  "She's nice." 


Ok.  Nice in what way?  Nice as in she's a nice person?  Nice in that she's pretty?  Nice in that she liked you? Nice in that she has a nice body?  What!  What!!  Oh it drives me crazy that the boy tells me NOTHING.   And I think it amuses the boy knowing that his silence drives me insane, which drives me even more insane. 


But I'm a savvy chick.  I'm a cool cat.  I'm smooooooth.  I figured I would just bide my time and get it out of him in time.


He spent the entire day Sunday applying for part-time jobs and texting on his phone with a big smile on his face.  Nothing further required.  We have success.


How... nice.

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