Eat Some Eye Candy

I’ve been blogging every day for 23 days. It’s my birthday in 7 days. That’s a week. Unless you’re a Beatle. Then it’s Eight Days a Week. I’m tired.

The problem… or great thing, about giving oneself a challenge and then broadcasting said challenge on the world wide web is that one really can’t pussy out. Or one could. But then the whole wide world would know one is a pussy, and that would wreak havok on the ol’ self esteem system. Hence why I will complete my 30 day challenge and blog every day until my big 3-0. Even if it kills me.

Today was another long day that started with doing my cousin-in-law’s hair and ended with a long but rewarding photoshoot. Unfortunately, now, I have nothing left in me. When I came home, Christopher was half way thorough Iron Man 2. He tried to catch me up on what I’d missed, but I couldn’t follow. He was all, “Russian Guy this, and Hammer that…” He should have just said “Micky Rourke’s the bad guy.”

I wish he was watching Prince of Persia when I came home instead. Jake Gyllanhaal’s big, wide mouth, smoking body and way of jumping effortlessly from building to building require no explaining.

If only everything in life were as simple.