First things first, please observe my sidebar carefully and visit KizzyKim’s diary and xanga. She has a passion for theater which shows in her entries and her stunning personality. She entertains me, in a dirty way, during my long hours at work. Visit her, bookmark her and thank me later.

After class on Thursday, I headed over to my boyfriend’s house to cook some dinner and watch a movie. A next door neighbor had invited himself over to chat and help out with making french fries and burgers. After peeling the potatos, he picked up the skin and told us that frying the skins and covering them with cinnamon and sugar would make a delicious addition to ice cream scoops. He had seen the trick on Iron Chef and insisted that he couldn’t have ice cream any other way. This sounds understandably gross but we decided to trust our new friend (who is quite the cooking enthusiast) and fried up some skins for the eating. It turned out very well and was a unique way to dress up vanilla ice cream.

My boyfriend’s blue cellphone cozy is complete. I made the huge mistake of binding off too tightly which resulted in an uneven edge. It could definately look better but it serves its purpose (other than forcing my boyfriend to exhibit my knitting skillz, I’m not entirely sure what purpose that is).

I spent Saturday with a friend at Tampa’s Bodies exhibit. The Museum of Science and Industry hosted the exhibition which displays cadavers in various forms of dissection preserved in a type of polymer. This sounds gross and, indeed, it looks gross but the results are fascinating. The exhibit is so extensive that it’s almost overwhelming. There’s a body on display for every system: circulatory, muscular, skeletal and respitory. While I have no objection to bodies being used for scientific purposes (despite all the hoopla), I do object to bringing babies into the Fetal Development section of the exhibit. Somehow carrying in your 4-month-old to check out the other babies who didn’t make it seems, oh I don’t know, creepy. That’s like making a cow eat beef.

Cappycom is starting to warm up his domain with his latest entry on the Playstation 2 game, We Love Katamari. Cappy’s entries make you want to play and more importantly, you will want to play with him. He recieved Guitar Hero for his 24th birthday and will surely expand on its addictive gameplay.

As part of a field study for my Peru As a Global Culture anthropology course, I will be leaving for Peru on Friday. My classmates and I will be staying in Lima for the better part of 10 days and traveling the country side to places like Machu Pichu, Lake Titicaca and Cuzco. If all goes well, I’ll return with 4gigs worth of Peruvian photos and maybe a little llama spit in a jar.

It’s nice to see Elijah Woods reviving his creepy role of Kevin in Everything is Illuminated. I wonder whose bright idea it was to use the same glasses in Sin City. Sure Everything is Illuminated sounds semi-interesting but the image of Wood’s torso being stripped apart by a dog is still fresh in my memory. I probably would have enjoyed the scene much more if he were the midget from Lord of the Rings. What was his name again? Bobo? Frobo? Ginormous-Gratingly-Annoying-Pussy?

Last night, I collaborated with my sister and a friend to make Aussie Chicken and classic poundcake. The main course was delicious but the poundcake didn’t fair so well. After making the mix and waiting nearly 2 hours for it to bake, I basically de-pounded the poundcake. I took it out of the oven and had every intention of waiting the recommended 10 minutes for the tasty treat to cool. Instead, I turned the cake pan over and shook it vigorously until 3 seperate, broken pieces of the cake came tumbling down on the countertop. Listen, in my defense, it still tasted good. It just wasn’t intact.

I went to Babies ‘R Us to finish some baby shower shopping. I felt odd among the gaggle of minature clothing and brightly colored diaper bags. Even with the paper registry in hand, I floated around as if lost in a foreign country. The store itself is a giant warehouse of googly, moogly things for tiny human beings that will shit and cry for about, well, the rest of their lives. The husbands, slowly lumbering after their wives and holding a plump, pink, gurgling spawn in each arm, turned to me with pleading eyes. All I could do was offer them brief sympathetic glances while deciding between two vaguely kinky nipple pumps. I was most surprised when I came upon an aisle specifically for “Preemies”. You know, I’m certain that Preemies don’t appreciate being called that. It’s derogatory and implies that they are incapable of growing up. I suggest something a little more sensitive like Inconveniently Tiny. Regardless, the shopping experiences left a lasting impression on me. I’ve decided; I don’t really want to push out another human being from my vagina. Ever. If I ever want a kid, I’ll be sure to buy one like Angelina Jolie’s.