my real world.

now that he has arrived safely in kisumu, kenya, i can stop waiting for confirmation e-mails and do things like what i'm doing right now. things that i'm deeply ashamed to admit that i am doing. it's a gorgeous sunday afternoon in menlo park. i am not going for a run. i am not watering our roses. i am most certainly not unpacking and organizing the 700 metric tons of shit in my room that arrived over two weeks ago from santa barbara - and i'm a J!. i almost don't want to get off the couch to let my dog out to pee.
sorry, mom. winston peed on the floor because i was so wrapped up in the real world awards show on mtv that i couldn't get up.

seriously. it is sooooo awful. everyone's getting rewarded for their worst behavior, watching each other and drinking and preening. i wish i was there. i mean, i would never tell anyone that. but if i had a secret wish, that would be it. i would be on the real world. i'm getting too old, though - at 23, i would definitely be a senior cast member.

is it a bad sign that i'm sitting inside on this lovely afternoon, unable to tear myself away from my fantasy life? and it's so many things i'm not in favor of, too - objectification of women, way too much alcohol, total lack of privacy, fake boobs, bad music - but i still have this deep-seated urge to be one of those seven strangers. i know an embarrassing number of the people who are showcased on this awards show, and more about their personal lives than any respectable young working person should. although, technically, i suppose i'm not 'working . . . '
is this what it has come to? unemployed, sitting on my parent's couch, waiting for winston to learn how to open the back door on his own?

at least i'd be the pretty one.

right?