Smelly Musings on Packing and Sex Jokes

I went to see Julie and Julia this afternoon with my mother and sister. We were the only people in the packed theater not on the senior citizen discount, and the permed white heads behind me had the elderly habit of chuckling at things that weren't funny, but I still really liked the movie. Films usually ignore the existence of technology such as instant messaging and facebook for the sake of plot advancement, so it was surreal to see a story about a blog told realistically. I felt like a loser for tweeting so, but every time Amy Adams's character mentioned her readers, I whimpered a little bit. I wrote to you guys last night, and I was somehow missing you. Excuse me while I palm my eyes, shake my head, and giggle. What my life has become.

My mom just came into my (much more organized, yet still unpacked) room to tell me she's been downstairs, reading Julie Powell's blog. She also thinks my sexual joke about milkshakes in the other day's un/sexy was gross, and advised me not to write things like that. I opened my mouth to make some kind of excuse, and instead, I had an epiphany. "Wait!" I said, feeling empowered. "I can write whatever I want in my blog! I'm an adult and it's funny!" My mother, who has a habit of trying to govern her children even after they've moved out and gotten married, responded with this really cute laugh that escapes whenever she realizes her kids are right. "People from church could read that," she said, failing to force down her smile. We laughed together, and swatted each other's hands away from my laptop keyboard, as she tried to make me appropriate, and I tried to think of the most offensive thing possible to say.

Guess what, Mom? GENITALIA.

Anyway, the packing situation has calmed down a lot since yesterday. I now have a tupperware container full of sweaters, sweatshirts and jackets stowed away in the closet, with a box of pants, cardigans, and long sleeves stacked on top of it. I'm now left with the gigantic stack of underwear on the unoccupied side of my bed, an array of tights/hose/leggings on the carpet, and various piles on the rug: t-shirts, tank tops and camisoles, zippies, short-sleeved tops, sweatpants, pajamas, shorts, towels, dresses, skirts. Add to that all the shoes, toiletries, books, scarves, and the ever-growing ocean of nail polish bottles accumulating on my desk, and you've got yourself a headache.

Oh, but fear not. I'm going to calm the madness by getting up early tomorrow to go SHOPPING in Cleveland with my sisters, mom and grandma, for MORE CLOTHES. That'll diminish the piles. Sigh... I only really own one pair of jeans, though, and despite the heap to my left, you can never have too much underwear. Right? Right.

On that note, I'm going to go take a shower, because if I were a Sim, my hygiene meter would be pretty damn low. My legs feel a lot like sandpaper, and my hair feels a little bit like a Slip 'n' Slide covered in oil. Isn't it charming, the things I share with you? I like to keep a certain mystique to my online personality. I only tell you the things you absolutely need to hear. Like how gross and frumpy I look, virtually all the time. You're welcome.

Sexy: Charlie's new video. It's an original, and therefore, one of his best.

Unsexy: My outfit. Light blue shorts, teal-green t-shirt, Jazzercise teal nail polish, turquoise flipflops. I didn't intend to dress head-to-toe in clashing shades of the same basic color, but I appear to have done so.

Chipotle burritos this year: 27

S'mores this summer: 6

Subscribers: 19,724

Bye, guys! Hopefully I'll see you tomorrow. <3