Man, what a relaxing past week.

I had seven consecutive days off from work... that's right, Monday thru Sunday and I feel good. I did nothing but watch Dreamgirls on DVD, several times back to back... (once dubbed in French) I love the movie that much. I wallowed in vanity, I ate massive amounts of Ramen noodles and finished two mangoes. Cat visited Tuesday - Thursday as she had a few days off from her job in Plattsburgh, NY as well, and I did not watch July 4th fireworks, because activities like that aren't my bag. Today is bidness as usual however, but I think people in this culture and in this country in particular, take vacation days for granted by refusing to take consecutive days off. Why? I'll never understand. It is almost as if we think we'll miss something (drama? office politics? the banalities of work-life??)- if we stay out of work for more than 3 days. Some people don't even want to stay the hell home when they're sick. They martyr themselves, proving their worth and dedication by infecting their colleagues with their rancid germs. The Europeans have the whole concept of "holiday" down to a T. We could all benefit from extended holidays and siestas. We may just be none too worse for wear if we slowed down a bit and took the time to inhale and then release. Anyway, I've been tagged by Jessucka the great ... I think I'm supposed to reveal 8 random things about myself, that may seem eccentric to the casual observer. As if the world (or the 8 people who read this blog regularly) needs to read into my neuroses even more. I find tagging fun, so I'll play. I'll omit the tagging rules, however (many of you bloggers know the drill) and I'll refrain from tagging any one else. I reserve the right to alter the rules for my own convenience and out of my own laziness. Anyway, here's another load... washed, rinsed, tumbled, and dried for your enjoyment.

• I feel compelled to wear high heels at all times. No matter how uncomfortable they feel, I suck it up and I take the pain like a champ. My feet will be twisted and may need to be surgically repaired as I age, but it's a price I'm willing to pay to make my feet and calves look sexual.

• I have a mean streak that is unbridled and sans remorse when I'm pushed, shoved, or if I dislike someone in a major way. It knows no bounds... my heart turns into a black, cold, lump of coal. And sometimes I like it.

• I believe in divination, my horoscope, the stars, karma and 'ish like that. Using divination as a tool to gain perspective on myself (and others) is quite relevant (and very real) to me.

• Sometimes tree hugging environmentalists and hippies get on my flicking nerves. I'm glad people care enough about the environment to school the masses, but methinks they need to lay off when it comes to protesting toiletries and things that make my body smell sexy and feel yummy. Each day I step outside and inhale noxious city fumes, I'm taking a risk, so who gives a damn? Smelling like a spice scented rose as opposed to a derelict who lives amongst wild wolves and wilderbeasts is something I don't take lightly. I care enough... but not enough to go gamey. If I want to spray up my personal air and space with perfumes and what not, then I reserve the right to do that.

• I want to own a luxury, leather bag... preferably by Hermes or Prada, but can't afford a real one. Yes I said leather. Suck it PETA. P.S. I don't eat pork or beef.

• I love black liquid eyeliner.

• I'm adept at booty clapping (and can isolate each cheek. Oh yes, I can) and do it for my own personal amusement. I'm saving that trick for marriage.

• BONUS: I'm obsessed with moisturizing and glossing. I can't be without hand lotion or lip gloss. I fly into a panic if I forget to travel with lotion or lip gloss.

That's it.