Feels like sour milk.

(May 20, 2008)

I'm beginning to worry that I may never smell or taste anything again. It's been days. I'm eating some cereal because I was craving the texture of something other than Airborne and these terrible oranges I got which do not maintain their segmentation. And this cereal may or may not make me violently ill because my milk was dated yesterday, but I can't smell it. I took a gamble. Let's see what happens.

In other news, Anne has invited me to go with her to a casting call at a BMW dealership (wtf) for The Bachelor. I'm pretty torn because while this does seem like a pretty classy thing to do, I'm not sure I'm the kind of personality the Bachelor producers are looking for. Because I have one.

I've never seen The Bachelor, so maybe there's a big cash prize I'm not aware of -- bigger than the one you got for eating pickled bull balls on Fear Factor -- but last night, watching the Flavor of Love 3 finale, I decided that if I was ever going to really enjoy television, I was going to have to overlook the inexplicable strangeness of the huge number of people who are willing to go to casting calls at car dealerships for the opportunity to compete for a claim of ownership over a complete stranger.

Somewhere, there is a grad student writing about the parallels between Kierkegaard's leap of faith and the willful suspension of disbelief required to participate in/enjoy A Shot at Love with Tila Tequila.