Pink Ice

So, there I was today, in a store, shopping for life's necessities when I was deterred by the aisle containing the nail polish. It seems, recently, I'm much happier when I have nicely lacquered nails... probably related to my MLC... but nonetheless, I purchased two very fine bottles of polish, making 4 bottles this week alone.

Now to provide some relevance into why I needed the fourth bottle (as if the third bottle was not obvious--I didn't have silver, duh!): Several weeks ago, I started writing a new series of chapters for what may turn into a small book, tentatively titled Pink Ice. Our main character finds herself in the midst career boredom and a bottle of nail polish triggers a series of events that comprise the storyline. The polish is a silver pink and thusly called Pink Ice... today's 4th bottle of polish was a nice silvery pink, and it was called Pink Ice... fortuitous, no?

As you can image, I was terribly excited and felt that I needed to have that as a token to my story. When inspiration comes at $2 a bottle, you really don't pass it up. Especially when you consider that the polish gracing my nails currently runs upward of $8 a bottle and is called "deeply in love" a sentiment that neither describes me or the color very accurately... Pink Ice seems a little more apropos.

And a few comments on my outing tonight... first, it was Top of the Park for a salsa dancing lesson and listening to the Cuban music that followed (oh and there were some awesome white man dances going on to that Cuban rythym, I do have to say). It became overly crowded and I could no longer handle getting pushed in the crowd for no other reason that people are rude. A cappucino from Beaners (take that Starbucks)... and I was off to Meijer... and let me just say, screaming children do not belong in a grocery store after 9... they are tired, let them sleep and not scream for 20 minutes in the meat department. If you pre-teen falls because he isn't skilled with his stupid roller shoes, yelling at him probably won't help and only makes you look like an ass. Finally, and I can't stress this enough, showering is essentially everyday... and if you think you might not pass--take a second one before you enter a grocery store--or any establishment for that matter. Just sayin'.

Pink Ice, signing out.

Dance Fever

Oh my, inane headlines are rampant on thus slow news Tuesday... of course, a slow news Tuesday is better than coverage of Bush in Latin America (oy...!).

Heather Mills, of marriage to Paul McCartney infamy, debut her dancin' moves on a show I'm certain is something that would make my head implode--though friends and family swear it is terrific--Dancing with the Stars. I cann't bring meself to watch the video of the prosthetic high kick... and you know, how good a show can it be when they got Billy Ray Cyrus (you do remember him and his "achy Breaky Heart, right?)... If it truly is a good show, I'll take your word for it--I have no desire to see the proof in the puddin'.