Absence makes the heart grow...

Fonder?
More pissed off?

Sorry for the delay, dears.
Life has been needlessly (or essentially, depending on how you look at it) busy.

Work is hectic... Being the new link in the chain, one is required to pull a ton of weight. New man on the totem pole syndrome? I think so.

And my beloved Jayhawks have made it to the Final Four. This requires much dedication. My bracket is totally hacked (10 seeds upsetting 3 seeds? This is not conducive to successful bracketeering), with the exception of the final game... You know where my money is. My fellow Hawks and I have barricaded ourselves in every bar and grill in the South KC area, cheering them on and downing tall beers, onion rings and shots of the Irish Car Bomb variety (scary combo). It's a stressful job, but someone's gotta do it. ;)

I've also been ensconced in the gym (locked in?), trying to motor my way to summer spent in a bikini. Snort. We'll see how that pans out. Quite honestly, I've made some fabulous progress. I'm in better shape than I've been in years, although my goals are still yet to be fully accomplished. I've become one of those gym rats- the type of person that feels naked or completely out of whack unless they've logged 5 days a week at the gym. How pathetic... Or awesome? For as long as I could remember, I've never been one of those people. I was always the girl that appreciated exercise if it came bundled in a package of a sport- like volleyball, for example. I was fine with running and huffing and puffing and sweating if it meant a sweet set or a line kill. But running for the sake of running? God, no.

And now, here I am, running (okay, walking fast and occasionally jogging) for the sake of running. How times change.

Other current endeavors include trying to find the perfect self-tanner (I'm employing a method of various types and brands on various parts of my body right now... Dark and not-so-subtle on my legs and arms, a little bit lighter on my face and chest, something verrrry gentle on the tops of my feet and hands. My forever enemy is Lohan Skin. You know Lohan Skin, right? Where your skin is unevenly brown, orange in some spots, and completely white in others? Dirty looking. Rough. Patchy. Lohan.

Speaking of... She's blonde again. And hanging out with that ferret-looking DJ, Samantha Whats-Her-Face. (Honestly, Samantha? Samantha is such a ladylike, elegant name. Which does NOT describe the DJ. No. I feel like "Butch" or "Knuckles" would work much better.) And Lohan's hitting the clubs and getting papped by the paps on a daily basis...

So you know she's back to the blow. You know it. Ugh.

Is anyone else completely excited for the return of Gossip Girl? Ooh, I am, I am. Beyond. I can only take so much reality television, honestly. I love it, I really do, but I have to punctuate the "realism" with some pleasantly dramatic scripted programming. Have to. And GG (and then Grey's, too) will placate this.

I feel satisfactorily cleansed. Writing has been on my to-do list for ages- both in the blog sense and in the short story sense. I've jotted down several ideas, sentences, bits of imagery that have popped into my head, but haven't written anything new since I graduated (almost a year... Holy hell). This must stop; I need to start 'er up again. Although that is much easier than it sounds... But we shall attempt.

Ta.
savvy