My fascination with everything Paris Hilton is finally wearing off. For awhile there, I had to know what she was doing every minute of every day, and I had no shortage of "news" outlets that were more than willing to give me everything I wanted. Actually, I'm being sarcastic. Sort of. London is getting attacked by terrorists. I’m already sick of all the presidential candidates on both sides.
I’m watering my lawn. I’m going to have a rum-and-club-soda-with-lime in a few minutes. I’m reading The Razor’s Edge by W. Somerset Maugham. I looked this edition up on the Internets, and somebody’s selling one for $350.00 bucks. This book has the following stamped on the backside of the title page:
THIS BOOK HAS NOT BEEN CONDENSED, ITS BULK IS LESS BECAUSE GOVERNMENT REGULATIONS PROHIBIT USE OF HEAVIER PAPER.
I think they must have been rationing paper or something for the war? It came out in 1944.
Anywhoo, Deb and the girls are visiting her mom today, so I got the place to myself. I’m going to have a drink, a smoke, and a sit on the porch, and I’m going to read.
I’ve been trying to catch my secret crush Maria Sharapova at the Wimbledon, but I keep missing it. I keep catching the guys playing tennis, and who wants to watch that crap? That's almost as pointless as watching men's beach volleyball. Makes no sense whatsoever.