I hope that indep day treated everyone kindly. carra and I had ourselves a nice lil beach blast at wrightsville. leaving at the ass-crack of dawn paid off; we got the last empty space in my preferred parking lot and spend the rest of the day answering "nope, sorry" to the many "are you leaving"s we got from anxious sunbirds. the rays did a number on carra, though, as she's laid up with yet another nasty burn.

lemme tell y'all, though: I've never seen so many half-unclad beautiful people in one place. I drove carra nuts by oohing and aahing over all the eye candy. poor us; we're trying so hard to understand each other's taste in the opposite...I mean preferred...okay, taste in men. not to sound shallow, but when my brain/hormones are scoping out a sexual partner, personality, intelligence, etcetera don't enter into it. if I wanted to discuss tolstoy, I'd be hanging around the library. after all, sex basically just amounts to people giving each other physical pleasure. it shouldn't be equated with friendship or intellectual compatibility, least of all love. separation of sex and emotion may seem callous, but they are only intertwined due to societal constructs. if that makes me a neanderthal, give me a friggin cave (and ixnay on the west virginia/cave house jokes).

james talked me into renting my favorite year tonight. great, great flick, kind of soapdish meets the dick van dyke show. and with more of a feel-good factor than anything I've seen since amelie.

I've had it up to here (envision hand held above head) with caterpillars. absolute swarms of them have taken to loitering outside my front door. I kid you not; we're talking hundreds. I finally sprayed the bastards tonight. if they keep showing up, I'm marching into the leasing office and throwing around the word "exterminator" until someone gets me one. no longer will walking up to my door cause nauseating crunching sounds.

if I'm ever even remotely famous, I'm going to be arrested for cavorting naked in a fountain in some major city, preferably nyc or rome. hell, I might do it even if I'm not famous. it's just such a devil-may-care, classic way of getting thrown in jail.

my beloved cedric is a fine auto indeed, but I'm ever so dismayed by his gas mileage. well, that's the price you pay for being able to blow the doors off mustangs at traffic lights. er, not that I've tried.

as late as it is, I've got housecleaning to do. gabe is coming into town tomorrow, probably around two, and damn do I have my work cut out for me. by the way, if anyone from the board of health asks for my address, tell them you've never heard of me. at least for the next day or so.