Captured Moment: Oh, How I Love Cirque du Soleil

A friend just sent me this photo from the Zumanity Cirque de Soleil Show and I had to share with all of you. Isn't it beautiful and romantic? I love her bra. I want her bra. It's, for sure, my favorite thing about this photo.

Thinking I totally need to see this show. Or not.

Vote For Me - It'll Be Funny

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Okay, nearly 4,000 people voted for Sir BasilMarceauxDotComDotCom. Gotta love hillbillies.

I am totally adding Stephen Colbert to my harem.

Hippo Swallows What???

OH. MY... Poor little guy. This story, as you all know by now, is perfectly set up to transform me into a puddle of delighted happy. The little one named Od. (Seriously???) The large one named Hilda. The trampoline. The yawn. The swallow.

But that was a person. And he died. In a hippo.

Moment of silence.

But, I gotta say, I am a bit jealous. Because I will most likely die in some boring illness - accident - old person way and he always gets to say, "Dude, I died in a Hippo."

That is a tiny bit awesome.

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Sssssssoooooo Not Relaxing

"Some people like the feel of non-poisonous reptiles slithering across their bodies in spa-like settings, with larger, heavier snakes providing a deeper kneading as they crawl across flesh." (Quoted from some lame article I read. )

Okay, I am sorry... I have entered one of the busiest periods of my life. I am working 3+ jobs while working to sell two books, while raising funds for the feature "Facing East," while working full time on a new show I am producing that I am over the moon excited about (set to hit this fall - details forthcoming this summer.) Oh yeah... single Mom, keeping the house running duties. Blogging? What's blogging? Dating? I dimly remember that. That has been seriously put on a back burner due to (A) Dating Burn Out and (B) the aforementioned list of projects. I need to recharge my batteries (literally ;-) before dating again.

I am stressed - but kind of in a good way. Busy - but happy-ish. I gotta tell you though, I do fantasize, almost daily, about getting massages. Lying face down on a table in that dark room, dim lighting, soft music. Said massage is, of course, administered by Gerard Butler and/or Taye Diggs and it goes on and on, deeper and deeper, for hours on end. (I really am talking about a massage. Although...)

No Where in this fantasy are there snakes slithering on my face and body. I can think of few things worse than that. Seriously, I'd rather have that other kind of massage while hillbillies suck my toes and Snuggles the Demon Fabric Softener Bear gives me all 857 Mormon Missionary Discussions.

A snake massage. Not a chance in hell.



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Ssssssweet Dreams

Behold, The Day When God Truly Smiled Upon Her

I have a dear friend that sent me an email introducing me to a third party he was certain my life could not be without - and vice versa. We emailed and set up a lunch date for this afternoon that I just returned from. I have a new gay boyfriend with whom I fell instantly, and madly, in love.

The clincher? After lunch he asked if I like chocolate (do Catholic bears shit on the Pope - and could they please do so to Elder Hafen?) and then proceeded to drive me to a certain Salt Lake City candy store run by certain people of a certain small size. Happygasms. Of epic proportions.

Those of you that have hung here with me for a while know that I am still in recovery so you will have to finish the rest of this post on your own.

Go to town.