So I thought, "Ok it's a bad gym week. No biggie. They happen. Let's focus on being a domestic goddess instead." I am quite resilient after all. But well, that plan kind of backfired when I scorched my omelet so bad the entire house smelled like burnt egg for 2 days. And yes, this little snafu most likely could have been prevented if I were patient enough to stand guard by the pan instead of wandering off to water the plants while it was cooking, but still. Who burns eggs?
But once again, I shook it off. If at first you don't succeed and all of that nonsense. So I made what I thought was the most delicious pasta salad for dinner Thursday night. I mean noodles, salami, mozzarella, spinach, tomato, olive oil---what's not to like?
Now on the whole, I have a very healthy self esteem. I have a pretty firm grasp on just who I am and who I am not. So these little set backs while a bit disheartening weren't enough to bring me to my knees. Nope. That came yesterday with the discovery of this:
Yes, the escaped and recently recaptured Bronx Zoo Cobra has nearly 1,000 times more twitter followers than I do. I mean Charlie Sheen and his winning, tiger blood, rock star Martian, gnarly gnarliness was one thing, but a snake? Come on! He has no fingers--how does he type? With his fangs? And his brain--so small. How could he possibly be more interesting than me? The world is not fair people.
So at this point there's only one option left for salvaging any happiness: indulge my narcissistic tendencies by playing with Photo Booth.
Steve Jobs is my hero yo. I bet he has more followers than me too, but dude's earned it, so I'm ok with that. Plus he's human. That helps.