I try so hard to love you, but you make using certain things (like my MSNSpace) impossible.  Missing framework my arse.  Are you forcing me to go back to IE?  My friend in the IT department reports that the new version is a lookalike of you, with better security... it's even got tabs. TABS.  You see what you're doing to me?  Don't go there.

 

And you! Microsoft!  I know you want to be cutting edge, but really.  The Spaces were fine before you decided to try and make them all Vox or MySpace or whatever you're doing.  Just stop it.  My background doesn't even show up properly.

 

...

 

You kids will never learn.

 

 

-------------------------------------

 

And now, back to your friendly neighborhood PVE.  My shaman's halfway through level 42, which is much closer to 60 than she was this morning.  Woot!

Convenience only gets you so far, was the thought blaring on repeat in her mind.  After that, you actually have to start paying up what you owe.  The breeze coming off the ocean smelled less of fish today, and the umbrella's shade was the perfect blend of comfort.  She snuggled a little deeper into the teakwood chairs, a martini  in one hand and a masseuse at her feet.  The rockstar shades were almost alarmingly large for her small face, but it hid the view perfectly.  Her neighbors were insane and if they knew who she was (what she'd done!), it would be over.  For now, a slightly run-down oceanfront apartment made for the perfect cover.

 

She watched his hands dexterously work the tiny muscles on the sides of her arches.  His being gay made for a great sense of peace, not to mention he was talented as well as attractive.  It was nice to be pampered by someone who didn't have anything on the agenda except a paycheck and some entertaining conversation.  He'd even brought a box of chocolates, how thoughtful.

 

At the gym the other day he truly put her through the full gambit.  Wanting to look like Jenna Jameson was something on the minds of many females, but they didn't all have the same motive she did... not to mention the time and money. 

The breeze washed in again and helped her many thoughts to drift along the river of her mind.  She remembered the look in his eye as she walked down her spiral staircase.  The flex of someone else's back, biceps, calves as they explained different moves to build lean muscle versus bulky muscle.  The words of a mentor.  The soft hands working tension out of her leg as a charley horse made her collapse in pain.  A random unasked-for hug at a necessary time.  Men who looked good in hats, and men who knew how to be men.

 

She thought about her last meditation session.  A short drive in a white dress, shoeless on the sands, climbing over rocks and seaweed just to find a spot free of children screaming with delight.  The one spot in the world where her thoughts didn't seem to hurt her; a large flat rock a a yard or so above the breaking point of the waves. The surf would pool in and up around the rock, but she could sit there until almost 8 p.m. without fear of getting wet.  The sun broke in slanted rays through the mist and clouds, the children evaporated, and the waves brought the stillness and repetition she needed to feel whole.  She began to sing softly, rehearsing her parts for a new club's debut, and knowing she was a star.  The staircase curled in her mind again, the spotlight shone.  He was there in the dark with a cigar and a trail of smoke wafting past mirrored glasses.

 

Her head scarf fluttered against her face, and she felt almost relaxed enough to take it off and let the sun give her some new highlights.  Then the gleam of silver caught her eye, and she pushed her gun back from the edge of the table.  There was no rest for the weary, and she was going to have to start getting her massages at midnight again instead of noon.  The ocean looked nice with a full moon as well.

 

 + + +

 

In my room several hours away, I suddenly smelled an ocean breeze.  It was time for a new pair of sunglasses and maybe even a hat.  The road was calling.

 I don't like it.  See also: "If it ain't broke, don't fix it!"
I also don't like the 'missing framework' error I get.
I wonder if this is due to using Mozilla.

I do, however, like my cat, but don't like how difficult it is to type with him being on my lap.

 

- - - - + - - - -

 

Other things of interest:

+my first week at the gym [check]

+my organic shoppic experience [check]

+dishes done [check]

+ad to sell the mustang updated [check]

+search for new 'daily driver' car [check] (mazda rx 8, i think.)

+indulge in a five-hour marathon of watching the simple life [check] (wow.)

+smogging completed [no]

+painting completed [no]

+laundry done [no]

+d's visit [rescheduled for september]

+new jeans [still needed]

+new shoes [NO! stop it.]

 

This week will be busy.

 

The gym excursion seems to be going well.  I have my first session with a trainer coming up on Tuesday, plans to hit the La Jolla gym with Tagen (my psuedo trainer) on Monday & Wednesday, and then back to the Mission Valley gym on Thursday with anyone who wants to come.  More for my reference than yours is the following:

 

monday: legs / cardio

tuesday: core / cardio

wednesday: legs / arms / cardio

thursday: core / cardio

 

I need upper body strength, but after having the girls recently measured, I'm just fine with a 38D.  The goal is to get rid of this excess crap below the waistline, and tone up overall.  Also, I've decided that Sundays make a perfect day for juice fasts.  Stupid immune system.

 

TMI: The Internet's True Purpose.