Bouncy Houses

For the annual Memorial Day party that The Situation's family throws, his parents rented one of those big inflatable bouncy houses for the kids to play in. They were thrilled by it, obviously-- a giant castle that you can throw yourself into without getting hurt or in trouble!-- and the kids jumped their little hearts out.

For about fifteen minutes, before they got bored and went inside to play video games.

And even though I was far from athletic as a child, and would have given anything to get out of kickball or gym class, seeing that unoccupied blow-up castle depressed me. It was so exciting! And so safe! And so available! Why avoid it?

This week, my blog has felt like the bouncy house. The Hayleylujah Chorus is like a mystical candyland where everybody gets along and is happy to see me and thinks I'm funny even when I'm boring and stupid, but I, inexplicably, just haven't been feeling up for a bounce. It's not for lack of stories to tell you, because I've been staying at The Situation's house for a week now, and we've done a whole slew of fun things, from going on cutesy dates to walking around the zoo. And it's not for lack of time, because I'm halfway through rereading The Catcher in the Rye, and about to start Jaclyn Moriarty's new book, The Ghosts of Ashbury High. There's no real excuse for not checking in with you guys. As sad as it is, I guess video games will sometimes beat bouncy houses. And in this case, The Situation is a Wii.

But enough of that! I'm here! I like being here! I don't mean to sound like it's a great hassle for me to grace you with my divine presence four times a month. You guys are the coolest people in all of the internet, and even when I don't feel so much like spewing my soul into print, I do miss you. What's up in your lives? What have you eaten today? How 'bout that soccer game, huh?*

Right now, I'm on The Situation's bed, typing with one hand and carelessly banging a drumstick on his pillow with the other. He's off elsewhere in the house, recording himself singing. His sister just walked past and touched a key on the piano in the hallway. I hear clanging noises coming from the kitchen, which means there must be food. For this, I am extremely pumped. Along with being utterly wonderful in general, The Situation's parents also have this fabulous habit of providing me with delicious meals. It's like staying in a hotel where everyone is funny and good-looking and feeding me. I feel like Little Orphan Annie.

However, if there is a downside to spending every second with my ridiculously entertaining and sweet boyfriend, it's that we have very different eating schedules. He likes to have breakfast at noon, lunch at three, dinner at eight, and a meal before bed. I start eating as soon as I wake up, and don't like to stop until I'm falling asleep with food dangling from my open mouth. I'm big on salads, and he refuses to eat vegetables unless they're deep fried or deeply hidden amongst cheese and bread and meat. I can deal with this, though, because he looks like a Disney prince. MY LIFE IS SO HARD.

Okay, on that note, my stomach is telling me (quite noisily, I might add) to get off my butt and go fill it with nourishment. I hope you're all having a lovely first week of summer (or winter, for those of you down under). Our group mission for the day (because I apparently give out missions now) is to find one of the metaphorical blow-up castles in our lives and go for a bounce, while we still can. Happy jumping!

Chipotle burritos this year: 19
Subscribers: 29,751
Nail color: Chipped and not so hot

*You can comment about soccer if you must, but I'm sorry for misleading you; I do not care about soccer.