Katie Doyle, Girl About Town

Monday, Oct. 14, 2002 - 6:06 a.m.

My life is inanely boring. It's amazing how boring it is.

However, I dig a good laugh, so if you wanna bust a gut laughing reading about a tarantula, go here. I swear to GOD you'll die laughing. It's 5:24 am, so I don't really want to call attention to myself, sitting here in the dark, reading strangers' diaries, and I'm all huddled over my laptop trying to quietly dissolve into hysterics lest my boyfriend find his suspicions regarding my dubious sanity confirmed, but I'm sorry, that was one helluva funny story. I had to add Sundry to my list of faves.

BTB, here's an interesting idea I'm totally behind. Think we can get the politicians to embrace it, too? Hmm...maybe not. They may desire to continue cornering the market on paid cavorting. But I say we take back what's ours, America. Cavort til the cows come home, and press for the moolah to do it.

Wow. That reminds me of the Moo game I used to play with this guy Jason at work. Work was the Cheesecake Factory, so you gotta know we were insanely bored and forced to rebel. But the gist of the game is that you may only communicate with each other using the word "moo." Hence the term, "Moo game." Sometimes we did moo impressions, and the other person had to guess whom the mooer was. Again, the only word you could say was moo. My personal best was Moo West. Ah, what kicky fun that was. I love people firmly in touch with their inner geek, for they, dear reader, are the fun.

Please don't hold it against me, but I feel the need to pun: My favorite book is of Mooce and Men. Sorry. I'm better now.

It's 6am. Guess I should sleep now. Gotta look moovelous for class tomorrow, you know. (I know, I know, I'll stop now)

But before I do, I have to say, remember that commercial for Snickers, I think it was, that said "Not going anywhere for a while?" It had what the polite world refers to as an older gentleman lying down in the grass of a football field endzone, painting the logo, and at the end, this football player walks by and goes "Hey, that's great, but who are the Chefs?" Then the older gentleman looks down and realizes he misspelled Chiefs, and says "Great Googly-Moogly." That delivery used to crack. Me. Up.

On that note, I'm outta here. I don't want to make Mooch Ado about Nothing. (ok, ok)

Later,

Katie

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