Stuck on George

I'm lying in bed and I can't sleep, because I'm blogging. Blogging has claimed the term for internal monologue in my mind. They pretty much work the same with the exception that more intimate pieces stay in the head. After musing over the meaning of my life, I stumble on a topic worthy of public blogging. George. I can't get George out of my head. And there's so many.

There has been more than one King George, both in England and the U.S.

There is George Orwell who eerily predicted George W's regime and text messaging, but he labeled it Newspeak.

There is Georgie the baby doll. Bella's favorite, but I've been informed that he is not a doll. He is real. My mistake.

There is Curious George, which is the first movie Bella made it through in a theatre. The first try was with Madagascar, but not even 5 minutes in she was wailing, "Why are you doing this to me?" So, Will Farrel as the man in the yellow hat, Jack Johnson soothing soundtrack, and a year later George was it.

There's George of the Jungle. I loved the cartoon as a kid. I love Brendan Frasier as an adult.

There's Boy George, of which my cousin has possession of a rather defaming tape of me singing Karma Chameleon a capella when I was kid.

There's George Clooney hot on Facts of Life and hotter now.

There's neighbor George. Best neighbor we ever had.

There's George in the band - who I hardly know.

There's Georgia. More stories than I care to repeat.

There's Georgia On My Mind. Ray Charles scares the poop out of Bella, but I like him.

I could keep going, but this will only get increasingly boring by the George. Hopefully, I've purged enough to sleep.