I know. I have to own this, don't I? Even though most of my friends are also hooked on Facebook...and, come on, Facebook doesn't MAKE me attach my psychic consciousness to it all day...so it probably is, at least somewhat, my fault that I didn't get up when the timer went off for the pizza. Again.
Crap! It was such a beautiful pie, too. I got it freshly made at PCC. Which in itself is saying a lot - please see my vile November post entitled "Life Amongst The Encapsulated, Part 1" to fully know how hard it is for me to revisit that slow-motion, tree-hugging, nightmarish establishment. Yet I did, and I was anticipating such succulence, even if it was organic.
I think George Clooney could have been waiting on me in the boudoir with tactile-enhancing oil from the yumyum plant and I wouldn't have budged tonight. The subject on the thread was "Glee," the musical, and the way Rachel nailed her rendition of one of my all-time favorite Broadway hits, "Don't Rain On My Parade." I mean, I wept and had goosebumps for an hour afterward! Fuck Dinner, Right?!?!
Gawd, I can be so ambivalent. Pizza, Facebook, pizza, FB, pizza, fb...?
Today I am grateful for: being able to afford something to eat, certainly pizza; for having a psychic consciousness at all (much less one that can attach to FB drek); for being able to own my own part in the demise of things dinner (kind of); for George Clooney and the ability to be moved to tears by Broadway show tunes; and for being able to consider the possibility that I will someday enjoy a PCC experience.
Not necessarily in that order.
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