Wet

Rainy rainy rain has rendered my flip-flops smelly. I should stop wearing them. The rain has also made them gritty with swirling, smushed, bacteria infested, city dirt. But I'm not ready to give in to socks, and autumn, just yet. Though the fall is looming pretty unstoppably today. I had to attend an orientation this morning, thankfully, not for myself. Orientations are like alligators-- you get stressed out just being near one. All the students skitter around like rabbits, hacking out the same introduction over and over, like parrots. Orientation, apparently, is a menagerie. Always better to visit the zoo than be the zoo.
Willa Ford is going to be on the next Dancing With The Stars. This really bums me out. I worry, clearly irrationally, that if she ever becomes deeply famous, people will start saying to me, after I've introduced myself, "Like Willa Ford?" And I'll be compelled, by the talk center in my brain that Can Not Be Stopped, to say, "Her real name is Amanda Willet." Just to convey that my name has not truly been degraded by being shared with some trashy, hussy who used to date a Backstreet Boy.