A mosquito bit me on the butt tonight. Stop laughing! It's not funny. I now have this little red welt rising on a buttock that is already big enough and doesn't need more size, surely not from an annoying little creature such as the mosquito. And this bite is not going to look very attractive for the shoot I have early Monday morning.

I don't even know how the mosquito managed to attack my right buttock. Oh sure, there's plenty there to gnaw on, but I had a pair of thick, black workout pants on. How in the heck does it manage to get through the clothing and into my flesh? Two weeks ago I had matching bites on either side of my hips. That was mighty attractive!

Speaking of the fitness center at my apartments, I went in to complain to management about the atrocious upkeep of the center. There hasn't been soap added to the soap dispenser in the women's restroom for a year now. I should know. I've tried a multitude of times to squeeze out even a tiny ounce of the suds in order to wash my hands. That's not the worst of it, though. There's no toilet paper or paper towels half the time that I go in there. Now, men may not care if they have paper products after satisfying Mother Nature, but women have needs (I know, I know...we seem to have lots of needs, lots of expensive needs). And toilet paper is one of them!!! I just told management that it was unsanitary and downright disgusting. It sounded good. I don't think the guy was paying much attention, unfortunately.

I also mentioned the squeaking of the elliptical trainer, the stepper that seemed like it was bound to fall apart at any moment, most likely when I've stepped on it to start my cardio session for the day, and the bike that doesn't work and is only used as a shelf by this one old man with hairy shoulders and a plastic bag full of newspapers. You should see this guy. He brings latex gloves with him every day, snaps them onto his hands and spends 10 minutes trying to find a channel on the television before sitting on the bike that actually works, pedaling at the speed of a turtle in the desert sun, and shuffling through the morning paper. I try desperately to time my bike sessions away from his; so far, I've been lucky.

I think I'm going to go apply some cream to this bite on my butt. It's not going to look very couth for me go walking around, scratching my butt. I'll finish eating my chicken and broccoli, drink another glass of water, and then head to bed with the Bel Canto novel. I think I have another 100 pages to read before reaching the end. And then I'll fall asleep, dreaming of pizza puffs that someone devilishly mentioned on the message boards. Two weeks. Two weeks. Two weeks, and then my tastebuds can live again!

Jodi