Funny thing happened this morning: I put on pants that go all the way down to my feet. Crazy. It was 47 degrees outside when I got up, so I'm glad I closed the windows last night. Last time I wore long pants was the 4th of July, and only then because we were in New Jersey watching fireworks on the beach and it was cool and rainy. Since there is no dress code for the chronically unemployed, I've been rocking shorts 24-7 since then (except in the shower, Tobias.)
Aaaaaannnnnnnnnnd.....that's all I've got on pants today. Sorry, pants enthusiasts.
So what else is there to talk about? Rachel gets the award (deferred) for coming up with the best alternative name for the abortion pill in yesterday's comments: Uterscrub! There were several hilarious ideas, but this one just works in every way.
What? You didn't know it was a contest? It's always a contest, my friends. You should know that.
Obviously I haven't been struck over the head yet today with any good post ideas. Otherwise, you would know it because you'd be much more entertained by this point. Hey, at least I nixed the idea of taking pictures of my older pairs of shoes and telling a story about each one (Don't breathe that sigh of relief just yet; that one may be backburnered for NaBloPoMo.)
Don't forget to enjoy the VP debate tonight. I just hope Biden knows when to let up on the poor girl (and when to shut his prodigious yap.) And by "poor girl" I mean "wealthy governor of Alaska who knew exactly what she was getting into when she said 'yes' to McCain." And don't be fooled by what each of them is packing between their legs: Biden is the feminist, making women's issues one of his causes throughout his political career.
And here's a little drinking game for you: Do a shot for every minute that passes before the word "maverick" is uttered. I bet you won't even get drunk.