Did I tell my Erin Brokovich story? Well, I really felt like her just the other day. It was on the terribly hot, balmy and humid afternoon. The sun was screwing me, as usual, while I was carrying a box of specimens, in tight, tight Levis with really expensive tee, tottering down the road in my Havaianas. (The Levi’s were giving me. The freaking hipster was way tight at the crotch and I couldn’t like spread my legs, even to walk while the flowers on the poor Martinique tee looked as if they were wilting away from such heat)The place around me looked like the place near the power company in the movie. The grass was dead and everything was brownish. And there I was, like Erin, dressed for the wrong occasion, going about doing strange things that one wouldn’t do in his or her normal course of life-like walking down a road, in the middle of no where, with no one, and trying to look very nice. It’s madness. I still don’t know what possessed me to dress like that just the other day.

Well, I’ve the penchant for being subconsciously hypnotized anyway, by the people I see and the shows I watch. Like Elyse said in America’s Next Top Model, I thought I looked like a hooker gone wrong that day. And arghhh, I think I’ll be influenced by the guys in America’s Next Top Model in days to come. Shit. Tyra, save me….