"I got money in the bank, tell me what you thank 'bout that..."

That song has nothing do with this post.

Today is one of those days where there's just enough clouds and gloom outside to make you want to sit around all day, bra-less and curled up under a blanket, reading Carl Sagan's "Cosmos". And you keep telling yourself that when you finish this chapter you're going to put on a bra and get some exercise and stop being a fat piece of crap. But instead you just raid the refrigerator and return to your nook of warmth and safety and Sagan-ism.

Carl Sagan is one of those men who has that a strange medley of eloquence and savviness and dorkiness going for him. You would think the big teeth, 70's fashion, fact that he's been dead for 11 years would be a turn off... but it's not! It's not a sexual attraction... it's more of an "Old Man Attraction" where you admire from a distance, but any real interraction with them would probably be a huge turn off. Does any of this make sense? My point is that Sagan got class. Unlike Richard Dawkins who seems to be a substantially large douche bag.

In other parts of life that exist outside my repressed sexual fantasies for men 3 times my age, I've been volunteering for the past week. I did 3 days of the data entry job, which is boring as hell, but they give me free yogurt so I stay. Yesterday, I made and served lunch at a soup kitchen which was new and different and really fulfilling. I want to say that I got some kind of lesson out of it that I could put here, but I didn't. It's just a swarm of thoughts and emotions that are still kind of circling around my head. Sometimes it's hard to put things into nice neat little revelations... or even words for that matter. Oh well...