Aliens Don't Have Eyebrows Because They Don't Have Sweat Glands

The title, ladies and gentlemen, refers to a comment my Father made at lunch yesterday and I thought it especially thought-provoking. Look at Michael Jackson and conclude what you will (do those look like they consist of actual hair to you?).

Hello again, small handful of people who think it worthwhile to read my thoughts. God loves you and I do too.
Not a whole lot going on right now (story of my life lately), but I figured I'd update you on the anti-progress I've been making lately. I know you're out there, Yam, so this one's for you because I stink at phone calls. For that matter Yam, share this one with Muffin Salley.
Completely by luck and the ever-amazing Sloan Networking Skills, I've landed myself a gig writing press releases for the bank here in town. Well...not a steady job,unfortunately, just an "every now and then when needed" thing where I'm apparently working for my Dad but being, as he put it, sub-contracted out. I'm extremely, giddily happy about this because, not only does it give me something to do and that something being writing, but it gives me the extremely valuable and ever-elusive Experience that one so desperately needs when job-hunting. Which I still am. My first three press releases are on their way to the bank via email as we type so more news on that later. Breathe in the meantime.
That being said, no luck so far in the Job Department. Turns out the Department wouldn't even look at my resume. Oh well, so it goes: no luck with one prospect so all you can do is move on to the next. It's as I told my boyfriend Jeffrey recently when we were discussing his summer internship, you've got to put your name in as many hats as possible and hope someone hot draws your name. Maybe that's the wrong hat. I'm going to hope instead that the right employer will draw my name. That'd make me happy. Hotness would just be an added bonus. Kidding. (J.T., Refer to previous IM conversation).
Aaanyway, reverting in an awkward manner back to the press releases, yesterday was my first hard-core, serious, "i'm gonna get these suckas done!" day of working on them. Murphy and his Law passed me the big Fatty of Distraction, however, and everything that could come along to delay work on the press releases came along. I won't tell you all of them because i did a test-run of trying that with Jeffrey last night on the phone and i'm pretty sure i bored him to tears, so I won't assume that reading them would be any better. But not all of my day was un-productive. In addition to getting almost five of the eight PR's done, my grandma, my Aunt Marilyn and my 8-year-old cousin, Anna Grace came to visit around ten-thirty am. Grandma's car had to be taken to the Buick dealership in smithfield (a place rarely frequented by anyone under sixty) for a tune-up and in the meantime, Dad and I got to eat lunch with her and my aunt and cousin. Before long, I found myself crammed into my dad's PT Cruiser with everyone, playing car games with Anna Grace and my aunt. The game of choice was the ever-popular "There's a Bug, I'm Gonna Slug" (known more popularly as "PunchBug!!!...smack!) Aunt Marilyn, in order to defend her arm from the persistent punches of her daughter, invented "There's a Cruiser, I'm Gonna Bruise Her!". Being in a row of car dealerships along Brightleaf Blvd. in Smithfield, there were many opportunities for them to inflict a girlish amount of pain on each other as we girls tend to do when we're being playful (you know about how hard we can hit). In fact, Dad even made it a point to drive through the Chrysler dealership on the way to Ruby Tuesday's so that Aunt Marilyn could pummel Anna Grace for about twelve Cruiser's worth. This went on for quite some time, inspiring me to invent my own version of the game which I call "There's a tractor-trailor, I'm gonna beat the crud out of you." Not very popular with the eight-year-old crowd but very amusing to myself. Especially since Ruby Tuesday's affords a fairly unobstructed view of I-95. I also gave "Look, A Minivan, Bust You In The Face" a try, but that wasn't a big hit either (no pun intended). Oh well.
They say that if you can laugh at yourself, you'll never cease to be amused, right?

Peace Out and don't give up the booty.