The Real OC

I just decided to skip working out because I didn't bring any gym socks. Initially, it took me a long time to even get up the courage to move off this couch and over to the suitcase to find my shorts and a t-shirt. After I fastened my hair to my head, I dug for socks. There are none. There are long socks, but I refuse to be one of those people in the hotel gym who forgot short socks and so is there on the treadmill in shorts with her long socks on. Uh uh, people. Ef that. So after thinking about my options for approximately one twentieth of a second, I sat back on the couch where I plan on spending some time responding to e-mails and channel hopping between The Real Housewives of Orange County and Anthony Bourdain while waiting for my friend Kari to get out of class so she can save me from my boredom.

Seriously. These shows are ridiculous. Ridiculously awesome. I think I would give my left leg to be Anthony Bourdain--just out there hopping around the world taking in new countries. But the more I think about it, I would probably die from having to eat half the crap he shovels into his craw. Still, dude's gone all over the world basking in cynicism and food...love it.

On the other hand, I think being an OC Housewife wouldn't be all bad either. Married to the rich hottie, not having to work, and lusting over the lawn boy while the angsty teenagers stop in for a hundy, or to grab the keys to their BMW since they're taking off for the weekend to Baja Mexico to get wastey with their friends...hmm...maybe I'd rather be the angsty OC teenager??

What's the point? There isn't a point. The point is, I'm bored with my life and would love to take in someone else's--even if only for a half an hour. I am off to D.C. this weekend though, and certainly will have a little better life view and some good stories upon my return!