Is there anything more satisfying than biting into a perfectly ripe peach, cold from the fridge? I have a whole drawer full of them, and they’re thick and fleshy and they pull neatly away from the pits and they drip copious amounts of juice down my chin and arms and they are, quite frankly, more delicious than Nick Lachey in a Speedo singing the Sweeney Todd libretto as he beats the living shit out of Mel Gibson.
Running in the rain
Warm, rainy nights are few and far between in Chicago, but whenever they make their dramatic appearances, I always lace up my shoes and head out to enjoy them if I can. Last night, after an almost week-long heat wave, the clouds appeared, the rain fell and the temperature dropped to the level of perfection. And I was out in it, pounding out six miles with my hair plastered to my face and my shorts sticking to my butt and my shoes squishing like Mary Cheney’s integrity. I had intended to run nine miles, but I got an offer I couldn’t refuse from
A smart, funny, distractingly handsome guy
Last Wednesday we enjoyed a concert in the park and a romantic walk among the gardens afterward. Last night he told me if I ran to his place downtown instead of looping back home for my full nine miles we could hang out and enjoy his view and talk about show tunes and he’d drive me home afterward. I’m no fool, and when I showed up dripping wet he wrapped me in two huge towels and we sat and laughed and talked about our lives and I drooled over his marble countertops. Which is not a metaphor for anything.
I don’t have anything particularly interesting to say on this topic; I just like lemon-scented soap. I started a new bar this morning in the shower. Come smell me!
My client base
I’ve been writing advertising copy for 16 years, in which time I have filled the nation’s mailboxes and magazines and newspapers (and, presumably but I just don’t want to think about it, wastebaskets) with brilliant (he said modestly), sometimes award-winning (he mentioned also in complete modesty) ads for credit cards, software, magazines, non-profits, home-equity lines of credit, gym memberships, leasing agencies, school and auto loans, home-buying clubs, financial services … all things I understood as a consumer and could sell with some semblance of authority. And this week, since I’ve apparently grown a uterus and started squirting out children, I have suddenly found myself on projects selling strollers (technically “travel systems”) and DOUCHES. My job is like the weather in the Midwest; if I get bored with it I just have to wait a bit and something interesting will come along. Not that I find doucheworthy vaginas personally interesting—my interest in them is purely professional—but people keep booking Ann Coulter on talk shows, so they obviously hold some appeal.