And reminds me of my little sister somehow. Is that you Margaret?
Dorking out
I haven’t been up to much these days. Dorking out, mostly. Staying in. Chronic fatigue syndrome. Hot chocolate. My grandmother is still ailing. She has renamed my family’s cat “Percocet.” Last night Darren and I watched the first episode of The Wire, which I couldn’t help but compare to Monk, a USA show we watched last week, also for the first time. The Wire is a “gritty” HBO drama about multi-ethnic, hard-boiled homicide and narcotics detectives in Baltimore, Maryland, where it seems that everyone either smokes crack or owns a loaded gun. The second is a cute show about a lily white obsessive compulsive detective who solves murders by being a charming idiot-savant. I want something in between these two shows. For instance, a jaded Mexican cop has to break up a heroin ring at the high rise Lifesaver Towers in Candy Land. Or a child detective who can’t stop wetting his pants has to kill a couple guys in Queens.
Sorry for the lack of blog posts
I know it hurts.
Tanya Tucker might lose her spandex jumpsuits
Poor Tanya Tucker. She has to sing to the Republican Party for her supper, and now she has to battle the fire that is menacing her stage costumes:
About 1,400 firefighters battled the Malibu fire that started Sunday morning and had spread more than 2,200 acres, destroying 25 structures — including five homes, a glass company and Malibu Presbyterian Church. Officials ordered the evacuation of several hundred homes — including those of James Cameron, director of the movie “Titanic,” and singers Olivia Newton-John and Tanya Tucker.
“All my stage clothing, boots, belts and wardrobe is in that house,” Tucker said. “I have so much memorabilia since I just moved from Nashville to Malibu.”
Why do I get the feeling that famous peoples’ homes are like museums to themselves? The only thing that relates in my life is my fridge, which is like a Wistar’s Half-Eaten Sandwich Hall of Fame.
Gay wizards
Dumbledore is gay. Leno is going to have a field day with that one.
Shhh my grandma’s sleeping
When Big Wis is trying to position herself comfortably in her sick bed, she describes it as “scrounging around.”
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This morning at the soccer game I was subbing out with another girl. We were talking a bit too loudly about how good the other team’s goalie looked in his short shorts. “Too bad he’s married,” I said, having seen him around.
“Actually, he’s married to me,” said a girl in cleats on the sidelines. Then she elbowed the hell out of me when I was defending her in the second half. Or maybe it was the other way around.
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I went to bed without dinner last night and before I fell asleep I had visions of eating chocolate chip mashed potatoes.
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I’ve been stalking the writer Stacey Richter on her website. I’ve been leaving her self-obsessed comments meant to show her how clever I am. I hope no one ever does that on my site. Please remember, people, this website is about ME. Unless your comment makes me sound smart, popular, or mentions my cleavage, I am probably going to erase it. Let’s try to get two million viewers tomorrow! I’ll start!
Evil sea lions eat penguins
Planet Earth keeps trying to make me cry, but I know it’s just a movie.
Saturdays in September
I went to a beautiful wedding yesterday, but with great beauty comes great anxiety. I sat in the church pew and thought of all the ways in which I might inadvertently ruin the bride and groom’s big day. During the ceremony I chewed a piece of gum, because I encountered no trash can at the back of the church. What if when I went to give the bride a congratulatory kiss on the cheek, I accidentally I spit the gum into her hair? The updo, the picture-taking, and possibly our association would be over. But I did all right. At the reception I managed to limit myself to two plates from the buffet, I only caused one physical fight (but the principals were under three feet tall), and I found a pretty white purse to replace my green one (I’m just kidding, Lisa. I did not steal your purse. I hope it turned up by the end of the night.). Darren danced with me, which was awesome, and I got lots of compliments on my cleavage, mostly from the hot lesbians at Sian’s post-wedding birthday party. I might start showing up to all parties in fancy dress, saying that I just came from a wedding. I love any excuse to wear a push-up bra. I will post some pictures in a little while.
Birthday workout
Does it still count as a workout if you walk on the treadmill for 20 minutes and then climb back into bed in your gym shorts?
Sick people make me want to eat junk food
Is that why there are so many pudgy nurses? The more grey heads and wheelchairs I see, the more I crave potato chips.