I finally bit the bullet and started watching Dexter on the plane during my trip to Vegas a couple of weeks ago. My husband had bought the first two seasons on iTunes and he and his sister kept raving about it, telling me it was the best show EVER. To tell you the truth, the idea of watching a show about a "good-hearted" serial killer -he only kills murderers- did not really appeal that much to me. It's kind of an oxymoron, really.

*WARNING* Spoilers ahead (small ones, but spoilers nonetheless)

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Is it really possible? Are there people out there completely happy or do they just put on their happy masks before they leave their houses? I do that a lot, and it gets old. It's not all the time, but it is more often than I'd like to. Most of the time I just go with the flow, I do my best to ride with the bad times until they go away. But it pisses me off to feel this way. My life is pretty damn good: great husband, cool kids, awesome friends, a job that I like, a nice house... Why the fuck am I not completely ecstatic?

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Okey, so I had even gone to bed, I was underneath my covers, all cozy and stuff after watching "A Cinderella Story" (please don't hold it against me), when I realized what my problem is about this blogging business. And then I started to think that maybe I should write about it, specially since I promised Mr. Do You Know How Many People Visited Your Blog Today? that I would definitely put something down today. Well... I look at the clock and it's 10 to midnight, thus the getting out of bed and opening (well, not really, 'cos it's always open) my laptop. So, about the blogging thing.

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