So blogging is hard when, um, you don't have internet. Which is exactly what happens when you, um, borrow someones internet in the neighborhood and they most likely discover that it's being borrowed and then suddenly block it while you are enjoying a streaming episode of Brothers and Sisters on ABC.com. And then, just when they gay couple is going to kiss at their wedding on the streaming video and you are giggling and hugging a pillow and excited to see it happen, it goes "Putt" "Putt" and poof... your free ride is gone.

This now involves me waiting for my new service to start... in a week. A WEEK!
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That's a long time.
But here's the thing. It's actually fun. See, for me, the internet is like filling up on salsa and chips before your giant burrito comes... then you can't even eat the burrito. Basically, it distracts me and I get nothing else done that I've been meaning to get done for months. Like, OK, get this. I folded all my socks in the same way so they are really pretty on my shelf in the closet. I hung my collared shirts all facing in the same direction. My t-shirts currently look like they should be folded for display at Barney's. I took a toothpick to my bathroom counter. I've read magazines that have been sitting in perfect piles because I've now got time to make perfect piles of things. My dishes are all washed. My fridge has been cleaned out and I know now all the words to Duffy's "Warwick Avenue" because, well, I haven't been able to download any new music and pretty much sing my woes of no internet to the tune of "Warwick Avenue". Which, if you're ever bored, I can send you those lyrics.

But most importantly, due to not having internet and having to work at coffee places more often, I met a man that insisted I looked like, and I quote: "That new kid. That kid on that new Indiana Jones... what's that kids name? SHOW BUFF or something?"

"Um, Shia LeBouf?"
"Yeah. That guy. Anyone ever tell you you look like him?"
"No."
"Never?"
"No. But someone once said I acted like Ryan Seacrest."
"SHIT! I hate that guy."
"Yeah. Most do."
"Well, once I got told I looked like John Ritter."
"Really? Huh."

The man did not look anything close to John Ritter... ever. He actually looked closer to Mr. Furley. But he went on to tell me his story about how this woman insisted he was better looking than John Ritter and how this woman was the love of his life and how this woman doesn't talk to him and more...

I miss my internet.