I am dressed like an extra in a Cyndi Lauper video, circa 1984. In honour of my extremely dubious achievement, I have temporarily changed the spelling of my name to Kymli. Can’t stop messing with the danger zone, indeed.

I am disappointed to learn that once again, I am not famous. My hopes of stardom were briefly rekindled this morning when I learned that I was sought after for reasons unknown – obviously, I immediately assumed those reasons were of the “we want to make you famous” variety. Alas, it was not to be so and I am once again doomed to languish in obscurity until someone realizes that you can, in fact, market Mama Cass. I’m sure that’ll be happening any day now!

I’m getting the itch for some sort of adventure. Last night was a nightmare of domestic bliss – I cooked a chicken dinner for the men folk and washed the dishes while Ed did laundry and Josh dealt with the garbage and recycling. We are far too young and awesome to be mired in the American “dream” – you know, the one where I live with an ever-revolving series of half naked young men – and as such, I solemnly swear that we will have some adventure soon. I read something on the internets today about a guy who baked himself in a 100º Celsius oven just to see what would happen. Maybe we could do something like that! Or maybe something almost as painful – crossing the border this weekend to get some Mexican food and 7-11 beer! Yeah! Wooo! Adventure! Fuck domesticity and your white picket fence! Let’s get drunk and puke in the bushes!

Maybe we should just go buy a Wii instead.

I am getting cabin fever, though. I want to have Fun. As charming as it is to sit around the living room not watching TV because Ed is playing NHL 2K7 again and/or listening to endless (and I do mean endless) conversations about cars, I need a little more out of life. Anybody want to do .. anything? I’m fun, I smell good, and I never ever get lost.