on the 12th day of unemployment

As anticipated, I have taken laziness to a whole new level. In one week I have left the house exactly twice--once to go to Target; once to the far inferior WalMart--and my LL Bean flannel pj's are getting quite the workout. Also, as you can perhaps tell from that last sentence, I've finally gotten around to reading Eats, Shoots, & Leaves and am trying to help keep alive the semicolon and make proper use of dashes. (Though there is really no hope that my grammar will ever be as good as it was at age 15 or so.)

Highlights of the holiday weekend included introducing my parents and uncle to the wonderful worlds of Da Ali G Show and Freaks and Geeks, a rousing dinner table conversation about the ages and causes of death of every single semi-close relative, and the revelation that if my grandmother (70, lung cancer) had had her way, I would've been named Gretchen or Gertrude. If you know my last name, just take a moment to ponder the atrocity that would've been. If you don't know my last name, trust me and assume like I do that Grandma's brain was almost as fried as her lungs from smoking two packs a day for 50 years.

Anyway, after a few weeks of uselessness I'm going to have to, like, start doing stuff. This includes making plans for getting my lazy ass into graduate school for psychology so that I can make money listening to people's problems all day and then sell out by writing some self-help book and hawking it on Oprah for lots of money. Or something. Or perhaps I could become a researcher and come up with brilliant insights like those in this article, which is on the first page of the APA's website for chrissake.

I'm already making fun of my possible future career. Awesome.