What is the maximum amount of Diet Coke a healthy person could drink on a hot summer day?
Is all the reading I’m doing good for me or will it just turn me into one of those jerks who says things like “the movie wasn’t true to the book” or “I simply adore Jane Austen.”
To Have and Have Not wasn’t true to the book.
I should be reading more.
Should I go to grad school? If I go to grad school, should I do creative writing or folklore? And if I go to grad school, how should I fill the 11 months between when I finish PC and when I can enter a program?
Is that mole cancerous?
How am I going to realistically train for a half-marathon here when I have no way of measuring the distances of my road runs and can’t run more than 3 or 4 miles on the track because I want to kill myself after passing the President’s photo-shopped picture 12 times?
Man, Rachel Brice’s workshops are expensive and fill up fast.
I wish I had the house to myself so I could practice my zills without alarming anyone.
Is it lame that I’m comforted when I hug my teddy bear?
What can I make for dinner that isn’t one of the three things I always make?
Do I want to bother with Game of Thrones season 2 if Sean Bean’s not in it?
Calcium supplements are linked to an increase in heart attack? My heart feels weird.
What dress design will make the other girls positively green with envy at the COS conference?
How much would it cost for a house with a library with one of those wheelie ladders?
Is that stray dog eyeballing me?
I miss reading Cosmo articles about the sex I’ll never have.
Ok, how many hours of each club do I have left to teach here? What can I add or cut to fit that time?
Where can I get my hands on a “Pascal is my homeboy” T-shirt?
I should be working on my language, but while Russian would be useful here and endear me to people, Italian is more fun and will be useful when I listen to opera. I’ll just play my DS while I decide.
I wonder what my parents are fighting about? Maybe it’s good I don’t know Russian?
There’s that creepy guy that hangs out at the stadium; keep an eye out and be ready for a fight.
I wish our Hitler cat was clean enough to pet and could come inside and cuddle.
I should get a dog when I get back to the States. Maybe a hamster would be better. They’re cuddly but don’t need to be housebroken. But you have to clean their cages a lot. Which furry pet requires the least maintenance?
Ooh, I just realized they’ll probably have hot dogs and hamburgers at the embassy picnic. Mmm, American meat.
What exactly is the difference between a geek and a nerd? I’m not sure I agree with Greg’s delineation.
Is it bad that most of my dietary fiber comes from popcorn?
Grey hair and zits? That seems cruel on God’s part.
Many of my story ideas seem to be cathartic revenge fantasies. Is that something I should be concerned about?
What are the odds I could successfully seduce Gerard Butler if I met him?
How much crap should a reasonable person put up with before they say ‘enough is enough?’
The powers that be remind me of Hamlet in their inability to make a decision.
Should I be concerned that I am likening people in my life to Shakespearean characters?
It’d be great to own an original Alma-Tadema or Ernst.
I miss riding my bike to the farmer’s market and then going home and making meals out of my purchases.
I wonder if I’ll ever be able to afford to fly my sister and cousin to America to visit me.
Oh, great. It’s trash burning day. I wonder how many of my lung cells just died from that whiff I got?
Damn it. Greg’s not online. I really wanted to talk. Well, I wonder what I can do online to amuse myself? I know, I’ll take a mental_floss quiz. Can I name all the U.S. Presidents in under eight minutes? Is my dad a history teacher who would disown me if I couldn’t?
Ice cream makes a perfectly acceptable lunch on a day like today.
It’s really sad, the great sense of accomplishment I have every time I do laundry here.
What conceit can I invent for my next blog post?