Crikey, This is My Life?

After a grueling flight filled with Lost episode one like turbulence and me almost puking up my gummi bears more than once. I am in Atlanta (Hey! Atlanta bloggers!). And really? I'm trying to relax. Because, um... it is all anyone can tell me to do and with the treatment I've been getting I should be able to but it just feels so foreign to have so much free time and pampering. I mean seriously.

A rundown...

Actually watching the Bachelorette in real time will eating french fries with creme brulee. It's a must try dish.

Reading more than one page in a book without being asked to do something or where something is? Unheard of. Am loving it.

Realizing that not all drivers who arrive at my house to take me to the airport and look like this are indeed not assasins and out to kill me. That's a nice bonus.

In-room massage? Yes, please!

Noticing how much crap is on TV in the early morning is not priceless just useless. Why is Al Roker reporting on celebrity Family Feud and since when are Dog the Bounty Hunter and his wife actually considered celebrities? If that is the case then um.. so am I and I should be on Family Feud any day now. Does anyone still watch Regis and Kelly? How? While I like cranky old men, I cannot stand the insipidness that is Ripa. Blech.

They are either working on the room upstairs and renovating it or someone really likes to travel with their saws, drills and roll billiard balls across the room.

Must stop thinking each time I get a massage that the masseuse is going to do a grab, twist, pull or five fingers of death move on me effectively ending my life. Am I paranoid or what?

I leave you with this. If you can get through the whole thing, you deserve a medal. To me, it sounds like a bag full of cats going through meth withdrawal.