in this house we obey the laws of thermodynamics!

I have the same routine every morning. EVERY MORNING. Except weekends, of course, which are routine-free because I'm lucky and don't have kids. Yesterday, I got up 15 minutes later than I normally do AND I shaved my legs AND I had to remove 138 inches of snow from my car and I was perfectly on time. This morning, I got up at my normal time, didn't do anything extra like, say . . . give myself a perm or run five miles, and I was running late. HOW IS THAT POSSIBLE? I have to wonder if someone is messing with the space time continuum or something. Come to think of it, I DID see a De Lorean in the parking lot yesterday. And some bushy-haired, Einstein-looking fella in a lab coat was digging through the dumpster. Hmm.

Anyway, I don't know what it was that I did that caused me to be late. I already knew what I was going to wear and the snow came off my car super quick, so it wasn't either of those things. I did notice that I'm extra confused today. For instance, I was standing in the shower, getting ready to condition my hair. The bottle was tipped, ready to dispense conditioner, when I stopped and thought, "something is not right . . . what is it . . . hmm." I stood there with the bottle sideways for a couple of minutes, still as an Albert Einstein statue, only not sitting down and not made of poo and also not wearing sandals, and then I realized that the bottle of conditioner I was holding was NOT, in fact, conditioner. It was, however, body wash. That could have been disastrous. For real. The thing is, I worry about mixing up my conditioner and body wash EVERY DAY because they are in very similar bottles. That's why I keep them on opposite ends of the shower. Only, in the morning, my brain? It doesn't work so well. So I always forget which is which and I make sure to check the label like five times before I use either bottle. Except this morning. But some force greater than myself must have been watching out for me. Or my hair anyway.

THE REASON I'm so confused today could have something to do with staying up late reading. And also watching America's Next Top Model. Don't you judge me. There was an episode on VH1 last night that I've never seen before. CAN YOU EVEN BELIEVE IT? That never happens. Never ever. And as I sat there in bed listening to Mr. Jay explain the next challenge, my book half concealing the TV, I got an idea. What if someone wrote a book about a reality show called . . . Who Wants to Be a Fierce Model? And the host was named Lyra Skanks. And she had judges named Jane Hendrickson and Wiggy and Miss Elle and Neil Blocker. These parts aren't important so much, what is important is that Lyra Skanks is a vapid, self-centered narcissist who LOOOOOVES to hear herself talk and NOT ONLY does she think she is the savior of the modeling world but she also thinks she's the next Oprah. And she doesn't realize that Tidy Bloom's show about fashion designers is so much better than hers, partly because of Tidy Bloom's awesome accent, but mostly because of Jim Funn. And everyone hates her but they're afraid to say they hate her because she might be bipolar. And a sneaky woman, let's call her Sneaky Woman, who just happens to be tall and beautiful and FIERCE, decides to go on Who Wants to Be a Fierce Model? and WIN dammit! at any cost. And she does win and when Lyra says, "America's Next Top Model is . . . I mean, the person who wants to be a Fierce Model IS . . . Sneaky Woman!" And then the runner-up does that smile where she's trying not to cry but you can totally tell she wants to rip the winner's face off? You know the one I mean. But wait! Sneaky Woman is just standing there. She hasn't fallen on the floor. She hasn't burst into tears. She hasn't run around the room, screaming her good luck to the heavens and the world and, most of all, fashion. Oh no. She's just standing there calmly with her hands clasped behind her back.

Lyra approaches Sneaky Woman. "Sneaky Woman," she says. "Why are you not crying and bowing and kissing my feet?"

"Because, Lyra," Sneaky Woman says. "I don't want to be your Fierce Model."

And Lyra would be all, "you're a quitter and Lyra doesn't like quitters," and Sneaky Woman would be all, "suck it, Lyra, I don't want your stupid crown," and Lyra would pass out and hit her head and get amnesia and Sneaky Woman would take over the show. And also she'd give everyone in the world a free puppy.

THE END.