Timely and Useless Facts about MomCat

It is amazing how absolutely frivilous and fluffy my posts are as of late. Sorry, but this is all I've got, folks:

• I have 135 unread messages in a certain email provider’s email account. (This is the address I use a lot publicly, so I get a lot of spam, but still…)
  
• I am really sick of a certain socialite’s saga behind bars. I think her parents should be tried and punished for spoiling their child so much that she thinks she can answer to no one, no matter what she does.
  
• I have actually reached the point that I do not want to eat out for awhile. I really thought (and so did my husband, I’m sure) that this would never ever happen for me. I mean, I don't even want to eat Mexican, people. This is SERIOUS.
  
• My waistline has reached the point that it does not want me to eat out anymore either. Oh, and so has the spandex in my swimsuit...which I've managed to avoid wearing quite nicely so far this summer.
  
• I’m once again fixated on the fact that I can’t go to bed before midnight. What am I, a friggin’ vampire or something?
  
• At least I am up blogging and not staying up to watch Johnny Knoxville's "The Ringer" like someone else in my house is doing. (no names here)
  
• I’m amazed at certain family member’s abilities to not answer important emails I send them about important things, even though they are highly technical human beings and I know they have read them. (ahem…no names here...again)
  
• I really dig Cinnamon Life. Why I never tried this cereal before now, I’ll never know. I feel like I've been let in on some sort of crunchy snackers secret world or something.
  
• I’ve sort of had it with Oprah lately. It all came to a “head” (pardon the really awful pun) when she featured families who had faced the worst tragedy of losing a child, and she repeatedly kept stating how one mother’s daughter’s head was severed in the accident. I apologize for the grimness, but she kept saying that over and over to the point that my husband screamed at the TV for her to shut the hell up already. I agree. Oprah, that was not necessary—the story was awful enough without you dramatizing it right in front of the parents who were obviously still emotionally distraught. Shame on you, O.
  
• I’m totally excited because I ordered the new book from the author of The Kite Runner, but I’m too lazy to go and look up the spelling of his name to tell you it here. Maybe I will by the time I get around to reading it if it is good.
  
• I also ordered a potty training book in preparation for next week’s festivities at my house—the great princess panty-a-thon, Act II. This time, I’m hoping girly stickers and robust bribery will do the trick. Keep your fingers crossed—I’m really at the breaking point with the three P's lately: pee-pee, poo-poo, and pull-ups.

That is all. I'm all bulleted out. I'll try to form more deep and meaningful prose for you another day.