Don't ask me why, but I'm in self-loathe mode today. I usually attribute that feeling to a day in which I accomplish jack shit. I was too lazy to wash my face this morning, so I hate my complexion. My hair is starting to grow back into a wavy mess that requires too much straightening, so I hate my hair. I haven't worked out in a few days, so I hate my physique. I received three credit card bills today, so I hate my dearth of finance. However, deep down inside I still know that my face looks perfect, my hair is well styled, my body has nice tone, and someone else will pay my bills. Like most of you, I really don't have a plausible reason for being unhappy. Sometimes it's just more fun than being content.

While driving around aimlessly today, I fantasized about another career option in L.A. My new dream involves being the cabana boy for a wealthy, washed-up actress. I'd get paid thousands per day just to lounge around poolside and look like sex. From time to time, I'd be asked to bring out a round of Cape Cod or Sex on the Beach. However, the main job description would be to be scene in a skimpy bathing suit and not heard. Eventually, I'd leave the has-been and use her money to become a famous movie star.

On that note, Grammy just arrived. She and mom are driving to Omaha tomorrow to visit farm relatives and shuck corn. I have to go load the coolers into mom's car so they can bring home corn for me to peel. God, I hate the Midwest.