Well, internet, what have I been up to, you [didn’t] ask? Oh, too much. Too much and not enough, as always. The past couple of weeks, the tiredness that has accrued by this point in the semester is hitting me hard. It hasn’t helped that I took 10 days off running to rest a sore hamstring and knee, and thus was deprived of my delicious running endorphins, aka the crack that keeps me at human-like energy levels throughout the week.
But in other, completely unrelated, cool, brisk, and beautiful news, fall weather seems finally to have arrived here in the deep South. Check it:
Gray skies and everything. A scarf, a coat, and I am a happy girl. Just let’s ignore the weather forecast that suggests by Thanksgiving it’ll be back in the upper 70s. Moving on!
I have, however, been doing my best to relax and buoy my spirits when possible. Occasionally this involves a little too much of the liquid spirits, such as the Basil Hayden pictured above. It is the best bourbon, trust me. It is, in fact, just a little bit too delicious. To counterbalance having too much of one thing, I apparently went with too little of another:
Like Bridget Jones at work, I seemed to have forgotten my skirt. Seriously, is this slutty, or cute? I don’t think I even know any more.
Speaking of Bridget Jones, I happened to have the television on Saturday night after the football game, and on one of the four or five basic channels I get (free, bare-bones package that comes with internet service) was playing Bridget Jones’ Diary. Oh, how I love that movie! Keep in mind, y’all, that this was a regular cable channel, not, say, one of the channels that allows cussing. And this movie has, as I noted during my censored viewing, a fair amount of swears in it — or rather, swears that were conspicuously missing from it. Not that I in any way object to profanity, as you may already know.
(Have you ever noticed that a lot of “profanity” just consists of Anglo-Saxon words, while their Latinate counterparts are considered acceptable? Compare, for example, the etymology of fuck vs sex, piss vs urine, or shit vs feces. Go on and get out your OED; I’ll wait.)
(Just kidding about the dictionary thing. You can just trust me on this. Polite society is opposed to Nordic people.)
But back to my point about the censorship: When Bridget declares to Daniel Cleaver, “if staying here means working within 10 yards of you, frankly, I’d rather have a job wiping Saddam Hussein’s arse,” the TV censors changed it to “washing Saddam Hussein’s cars.” Lord help me.
And apropos of nothing much, but mainly because I am now thinking about Bridget Jones and her awesomely foul mouth, here’s some dating advice from Miss Jones herself:
Will find nice sensible boyfriend and stop forming romantic attachments to any of the following: alcoholics, workaholics, sexaholics, commitment-phobics, peeping toms, megalomaniacs, emotional fuckwits, or perverts. Will especially stop fantasizing about a particular person who embodies all these things.
Words to the wise, there. Now what do you think the TV network replaced “fuckwit” with? “Fartwit.” No, really. So tell me, what’s your favorite fake cuss word? It can be from a cleaned-up-for-TV movie or not.