So yesterday morning I was at the gym with my deceptively angelic-looking personal trainer Sam, and I was holding a big heavy black bar across my shoulders, clutching it on either side, and I was stepping up and down onto this high bench, over and over, right foot up left foot up left foot down right foot down, 50000 times and then the other side, and the song "Your Body is a Wonderland" came on and that horrible breathy voice just snaaaaaaaked along my red, sweat-covered skin, and I'm telling you: IT WAS THE WORST MOMENT OF MAH LIFE. That might be a slight exagerration, but really. Not by much.

Then I saw The Duchess with my mama, and I was so sucked in that I still secretly feel outraged for Keira Knightley and hate Ralph Fiennes with my whole heart.

I also downloaded the soundtrack for Bread and Tulips, that lovely lovely Italian movie in which an unappreciated housewife gets left behind on a cheesy tour and ends up hopping a ride to Venice and starting a new life there -- working in a flower shop, hanging out with a sad, handsome old waiter and a kooky masseuse, and, after finding an accordion in the waiter's closet, gorgeously and charmingly playing the songs her grandfather had taught her as a child -- at which point she gets more and more hot, I might add, with flowers appearing in her hair and her lips turning glittery and red... And anyway she plays the loveliest little songs, totally sad and totally beautiful and totally glittery, and my goal in life is to LEARN TO PLAY THOSE SONGS.

Well that, and make a meeeeeeeeeeeeelion dolla.

The end.