I am SOOOOO over work.  Just over it.  It helps that I’m not working tomorrow.  It is a FREAKIN’ GORGEOUS day outside, and I don’t have to work tomorrow.  Not only that, but I’m having lunch with the other 9/3 ladies.  Raving bitches, unite! (Reminds me of something I could see John Robinson quoting.. “DYSLEXICS OF AMERICA, UNTIE!”)

Okay, so Ronda can feel me on this.. I have a bit of a crush.  I am IN LOVE with Nick on “So You Think You Can Dance.”  He is just SOOOOO cute!!  Bryan doesn’t see it, but he is.  He’s got this HUGE grin, and he’s not afraid to be goofy, and did I mention that he can dance?!  Yes, I’m in love with him.  He totally kicked ass last night, too.

I love phone calls that surprise you.  Like when he calls and says, “Let’s go for a walk when I get there.  Just us.  I want to put you on a swing.”  That was nice.

I’m wearing very over-the-top chandelier earrings today.  They’re waaaaay too flashy to wear to work.  I thought about dressing them down with a sweatsuit, but fought against it.  I just wanted a bit of pizazz.

I wish my company would give us time off to go help down south.  I totally would, if I could miss work.  I mean, I would even if I DIDN’T HAVE TO miss work, but if they would allow me the time off, I’d so be there.  I watch the news and just ache to help.  Not that I have any skills or talents that would be needed down there, but I’d happily serve as instructable manual labor.  My heart hurts for them.

I watched the news last night and just wept.  Survivors guilt is coming in pretty strong when I think that we’re going to have a party this weekend.  But you know, we’re all doing what we can to help, no question.  I know we’ve all donated money (mine was smaller than the other WildeChicks, I’ve no doubt.. but every little bit, right?), and I can’t help but think that New Orleans would want the party.  I was in Louisiana when 9/11 happened, and I PROMISE you, New Orleans did their part to help the effort afterwards, but they celebrated life every night.

I guess that’s what hurts so much about it.  New Orleans was all about life.  You can stand on your brimstone soapbox and tell me it was full of sin and disgust and debauchery, but that just means you didn’t SEE New Orleans for what it was.  There is a pulse in that city, a history and a bloodline that is so strong and so vivid that you can FEEL it.  It’s in the Cafe du Monde.  It’s in the Quarter.  It’s in Pat O’Briens.  It’s on Bourbon and Canal Street.  There is just no other place in the world that you can walk in, a complete stranger, and people will invite you into the party.  They will put a cup in your hand, an arm around your shoulders, and you immediately have 1.5 million best friends.  The smell saturates you and you hope that, no matter how many times life requires you to shower for the rest of your days, you will still catch a whiff of that sidewalk when you toss your hair.  You hate to sleep for fear that a moment, and all of its many layers of electricity, will pass you by.  New Orleans is New York with southern hospitality.  And the most depressing part about this paragraph is that I don’t know what tense to use when I speak about New Orleans.. past or present.

Sorry to be such a downer.  But we have to realize what we lost in order to rebuild, right?