The Google Doodles make me happy. Like, delirious-happy. Like I-am-special happy– special as in Hope Diamond special, not Special Olympics special.
This morning, I have not been so happy– more like listless and bruised-feeling and cranky-pants and depressed-ish.
Seeing today’s Google Doodle made me happy. And it made me wish I were a sexy and super-smart Italian (albeit, perhaps, a dead Italian).
And happy is an understatement. The Google Doodles make me so joyous, it’s as if someone had thrown a birthday party with loads of cake and confetti for no reason at all and I were always invited. I shall blame that last statement on the hormones. But I still want to be Leonaaaaardo.
I want to type this entry backwards! I want to design gadgets that people 500 years from now are calling “visionary”. However, I don’t want to be a vegetarian. There. I said it. I want to feast on meat every single day of the week, and eat it voraciously. In old wives’ tale tradition, craving meat and salt is usually a sign that you’re having a boy. Personally, I just think I’m having something growing inside me that is slowly pushing my insides outward. This causes irritability and the desire to poke the eyeballs out of anyone who doesn’t respond to you with extreme speediness. So there: I am pregnant and whiny, and will continue to be even more pregnant and even more whiny for the next seven and some months. Capisce?
Pasta sounds killer right about now. Pasta with Bolognese sauce and meatballs. And a salt lick. And I gotta pee again. *furious noises*