Ramblin' Woman

I haven't blogged in a while because, quite frankly, I didn't have anything on my mind to talk about. To tell you the truth, I don't have anything to talk about now, so this is what happens when Kellie doesn't have anything to talk about but she decides to ramble anyway...well, I don't think anyone actually decides to ramble because then it wouldn't, technically, be considered rambling--it would be words formed from actual thought and since no actual thought is going into this post, then I am, in fact, rambling. When I call someone on the phone and I get their voicemail/answering machine, I ramble. Not on purpose, mind you. But there's something about the phone being answered by a disembodied voice that completely unnerves me. My dear friend Dana can attest to this, because, over the years, I have left some seriously screwed up messages on her machine. My friend Melissa can probably attest to this, too, cuz I've left her some as well (and, if I'm being honest, I've called myself and left some long-arse messages that were meant to be helpful, i.e., sending myself a reminder to do something or pick something up from the store, etc., and later when I've played back the message for myself, my eyes, not to mention, my ears, have glazed over from the absurdity of my own message to myself). And now I've taken to texting messages to myself, especially in the middle of the night, and this is only because I'm sometimes too lazy to get up, turn on the light and write down whatever pearl of wisdom I want to remember in the morning. But I have this new iPhone and I often hit the wrong keys so I end up with some weird-ass messages in the morning. It used to be even worse before I figured out how to turn off the auto-correct function. I once sent a message to myself during the night to remember Tom's ornithologist appointment in the morning. Google that one, folks. One of my favorites was my middle of the night grocery list reminder which included, among other things: breast milk, Egypt, Iceland and cheetahs...also known as bread, milk, eggs, ice-cream and cheese. Which reminds me, I need jelly, not to be confused with JetBlue airlines which is what comes up when I start typing jelly. No more auto-correct for me. And I should stop texting messages to myself in the middle of the night and just get up, turn on the light and write down my message the old-fashioned way--with paper and pen. Of course, this poses a whole new problem and that is--I absolutely cannot read my own hand-writing. Dana: remember when your ex tried to read one of my letters I'd sent you from Spain and he thought it was in Spanish, but it was just my illegible hand-writing? That was awesome, considering you don't speak or read Spanish so why would I write you a letter in Spanish? Ah, fond memories. On that note, I will stop rambling and close here. Can you imagine how different this post would have been if I'd actually had something to say? Me neither.
Laters, baby.