More to Love

A couple nights ago, Michael and I were hanging out on the couch playing 20 questions. If you haven't done this with your spouse/partner/loved one lately, I highly recommend it. You can still learn a lot of interesting things by those answers. You have to be prepared though, for things you didn't expect or perhaps didn't actually want to hear. A gin and tonic or two aids the process.

While we were engaged in this little tete-a-tete, we lost track of what was on the television screen behind us. Suddenly we were immersed in this horrid show called "More To Love". Now, I am not a reality show snob. I love The Amazing Race, Survivor, Design Star, ANTM, and the Biggest Loser. I have also been known to get sucked into American Idol and a host of other examples of real people embarrassing themselves. I have never though, understood the Bachelor, the Bachelorette, and any of the other "find your true love" programs. They all seem to give ONE person the permission to manipulate the emotions of others. They are given permission to cheat and overall be lying bastards. And people seem OK with that.

I've been told that More to Love is basically the Bachelor with fat people. Great, take a bunch of women with low self-esteem and make them live together and fight for a stupid man. Oh my, how freaking sad and wrong. This idiot has 20 or so plus-size women swooning all over him. He basically tells one of them that she is beautiful and special, and that he could fall in love with her. Then there is some making out (and who knows how much more off camera). And then he moves on to the next woman and DOES THE SAME THING. I am simply perplexed. He is cheating on all of them, and they continue to beg for his attention. WHERE IS THE SENSE? I am just speechless.

Thank goodness I have Top Chef and Project Runway to look forward to in a couple weeks. I need a healthy dose of reality where people simply backstab others in order to get themselves ahead in the world. Not simply to inflate their own self-worth and hurt those that they claim "to love".

Into the Wild

I slept last night. I mean I really slept. I can't actually remember the last time I wasn't either lying awake at 1a or wandering around the house aimlessly at 3a. I don't know if it was because the Chupa was quiet (we locked her in a bathroom) or if I just couldn't keep going down the exhausting path any longer. No matter, because I slept.

When Iona and I stepped outside this morning to run, the sun was peeking out and the air was cool. Sometime last night the humidity just went away. I wish some other things would just disappear so easily.

We ran and ran with Eddie Vedder loudly whispering in my ears. As great as Pearl Jam is, he is so much more poignant alone. And the "Into the Wild" soundtrack is nothing short of magnificent. This is what I listen to when my tolerance is low or when I know my anxiety is running high. The funny thing is, I used to listen to this each and every time I was waiting to board a flight in Cebu. There was something about this small Philippine airport that made me incredibly edgy. I would feel my heartbeat start pounding and I would lose my ability to concentrate on anything other than the noise around me. I would sit at the gate wanting to literally run out the door or tell the people around me to just shut up. Instead I would turn my iPod on Eddie as loud as I could handle, and just take it down a few notches. Much better choice.

I leave for Wisconsin again tomorrow night. My mom's birthday is later this week and all the daughters are getting together to celebrate with her in Door County. I look forward to seeing them, spending some nonsense time together, and giving Eddie a rest for a few days.