Episode 100: When did we move to Seattle?

Wow. I can't believe I've actually made it to 100 posts on this little blog.

And, along the way, at least five of my friends have joined Blogger as well. Too bad there isn't some sort of referral or finders fee!

Check out the links on the right of my blog, and you'll see that the Wichitamas blogging crew is just as sick of all this rain as I am. Headlines range from "Splish Splash" to "Rain Rain Go Away." Seriously - I think the timing of that movie "Evan Almighty" is perfect right now - because it's been raining for 40 days and 40 nights here. Thankfully, I haven't seen the animals leaving two-by-two yet, but they can't be far behind.

Our dehumidifier is working overtime in the basement - love the houses in College Hill, could stand to do without the basements. It's not flooded, but the water table is so high around here that water is seeping in through the cement.

If I'm going to live in a town where it rains and is gloomy 24/7, I would at least like to have the chance of running into Dr. Korev or McSteamy. Throw us a bone, here.

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Last night, we went to see Ratatouille, the new animated movie. We went to the 9:15 p.m. show and you wouldn't believe all the little ones there. I was sure that the movie would not be that crowded since it was so late. Thankfully, most of them were either a) very well-behaved or b) asleep before the previews were over.

There was one little trashy bunch sitting about three rows behind us - an aunt and her niece and nephew, and what must have been the aunt's boyfriend. While waiting for the previews to start and the lights to dim, they decided to have a belching contest. Okay, I'm sure that I might have been involved in something like that at that age, but my God, not in a movie theater. Let's teach our kids to burp in public and then bust out in fits of laughter about it, instead of saying "excuse me." I was tempted to call up Opinion Line...

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I might have discovered a new guilty pleasure this morning. You see, I love to look at my mom's People magazine. Well, when I was eating breakfast this morning, I found a new show on E! called "Hum." It's like a live-action version of People magazine, and you can hear all of the inane questions the papparazzi are shouting to the celebs while they are inducing epileptic seizures with all of the flash bursts. It's really strange to look and listen to what that must be like. Now I see why famous people need bodyguards. Judging by the POV of the E! shots, most of the photographers were within a foot or two of the celebrity.

Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not saying "Oh, poor little rich kids and all this attention you get." Obviously, if you choose to live that sort of lifestyle, you must put up with the trappings that come along with it. But, jeez, I can't believe the photographers are that aggressive. There is a tiny thing called personal space that we should all be allowed.

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I think I'll have to stop complaining about Sweaty McSweaterson. I went to Body Design class at the East Y today, and I pretty much was Sweatina McSweaterson. That class kicked my ass, and it kicked ass. I will be hurting tomorrow. That's another thing I'll miss about Doodah - I love the group exercise classes at the Y, and now Kat will be a member again, so I could go with her, but we're moving. Ugh.