I flip on the TV in the kitchen every night around seven; after working all day, after the supper gig, after walking, and my choices are (without even my LIMITED FRICKIN cable connection) Inside Edition, I Hate That Stupid Frickin Raymond and Entertainment Tonight. As the lesser of three evils, I usually have ET blaring in the background as I unload the dishwasher, fix the coffee pot for the next morning, make my lunch, throw in a load of clothes, as I wait for prime time to begin. Because I have no life.
Honestly. Isn't Anna Nicole dead? Because I swear I thought I heard that she died.
Apparently ET has no idea she's dead because they talk about her EVERY DAY. Ad nasuem. For months now. They show video of her family. They show lost videos of her "career". They show videos of her baby and the two Baby Daddy's. They talk about how pitiful and painful her life was. I think if they show me the picture of her kissing that Grampa/Husband one more time I will lose my mind.
Today they're reading lost pages of her diary; "her secret thoughts that she never wanted anyone to know." They're showing her "lost" high school photo, "with soft brown hair and bangs curled under". They're showing video of her talking about what a dim bulb she was in school and how everyone was mean to her.
Is America really that starved for celebrity news? Any publicity is good publicity?
No wonder the world hates us.
But I will say, in her skinny years, Anna looks an awful lot like Reese Witherspoon.
I'm just saying.
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
Saturday, May 05, 2007
Yahoo
I've tried to post a couple of times in the past few months and couldn't seem to put a cohesive paragraph together. Don Imus. The Virginia Tech shootings. George F Bush. How the IRS is persecuting me. The custody fight over Ana Nicole's baby.
The list of what's been on my mind is freaking endless, but it hasn't translated well outside of my own head.
So this morning I'm perusing Yahoo Personals instead of firing up the pressure washer and getting the patio ready for outdoor living, and some of these ads are like staring at a car wreck. You just can't look away: the misspellings, the improper use of pronouns, the Harley riders looking for @ss, gas or grass, the pictures of men without shirts. And I'm thinking about the fact that I've been divorced for 17 years. And when I'm really honest with myself, I have to at least respect the fact that these poor bastards are in the game. I haven't really been in the game since 1985...the year I married D's father.
I'm thinking a lot lately about what I want in a partner and a relationship and I've determined that knowing what you don't want is just as important as what you do want. With that in mind, cut and pasted directly from Yahoo Personals, are the men I do not want to date.
The Grammatically Impaired:
John “Your, it....”
Tom “Good Man that is Real. Are you?”
Paul “I.m looking for a nice women”
Michael “im here where are you.”
Chris “What do U 4 C?”
The Animals:
Thomas “Lone Wolf Looking for mate”
Brad “Like a cat, cuddly with sharp claws”
The Desperate:
James “looking for someone to fill the void”
Kenneth “Hoping second time around is better!”
Ted “True love, Fling, Whatever”
Ron “I Won't Fear Love”
The Teddy Bears:
Paul “Sweet little Teddy Bear”
BARRY “BIG TEDDY NEEDS A LADY TEDDY”
Greg “Teddy Bear Looking A Sweet Treat”
Michael “big teddy bear,needs cuddling!”
The Loons:
Brian “easy going guy looking for a sane woman”
Gary “i gotta a big one”
Danny “Fun w/grandpa”
Bob “hi i am barneys fifh brother”
Larry “Space creature seeks earthly woman”
And just like any room full of men, I find two or three interesting. And what these men have in common is that they are not the beautiful. Or the skiiers. Or the CEO's. Or the bikers.
They're the clever, smart, quiet, unassuming ones, wearing flannel or ball caps.
And it's Norm Abrahm all over again.
D@mmit.
The list of what's been on my mind is freaking endless, but it hasn't translated well outside of my own head.
So this morning I'm perusing Yahoo Personals instead of firing up the pressure washer and getting the patio ready for outdoor living, and some of these ads are like staring at a car wreck. You just can't look away: the misspellings, the improper use of pronouns, the Harley riders looking for @ss, gas or grass, the pictures of men without shirts. And I'm thinking about the fact that I've been divorced for 17 years. And when I'm really honest with myself, I have to at least respect the fact that these poor bastards are in the game. I haven't really been in the game since 1985...the year I married D's father.
I'm thinking a lot lately about what I want in a partner and a relationship and I've determined that knowing what you don't want is just as important as what you do want. With that in mind, cut and pasted directly from Yahoo Personals, are the men I do not want to date.
The Grammatically Impaired:
John “Your, it....”
Tom “Good Man that is Real. Are you?”
Paul “I.m looking for a nice women”
Michael “im here where are you.”
Chris “What do U 4 C?”
The Animals:
Thomas “Lone Wolf Looking for mate”
Brad “Like a cat, cuddly with sharp claws”
The Desperate:
James “looking for someone to fill the void”
Kenneth “Hoping second time around is better!”
Ted “True love, Fling, Whatever”
Ron “I Won't Fear Love”
The Teddy Bears:
Paul “Sweet little Teddy Bear”
BARRY “BIG TEDDY NEEDS A LADY TEDDY”
Greg “Teddy Bear Looking A Sweet Treat”
Michael “big teddy bear,needs cuddling!”
The Loons:
Brian “easy going guy looking for a sane woman”
Gary “i gotta a big one”
Danny “Fun w/grandpa”
Bob “hi i am barneys fifh brother”
Larry “Space creature seeks earthly woman”
And just like any room full of men, I find two or three interesting. And what these men have in common is that they are not the beautiful. Or the skiiers. Or the CEO's. Or the bikers.
They're the clever, smart, quiet, unassuming ones, wearing flannel or ball caps.
And it's Norm Abrahm all over again.
D@mmit.
Sunday, February 18, 2007
Dreaming
I read somewhere a long time ago that you shouldn't talk about your dreams to anyone who didn't wake up with you. I think that's very telling. Because truly? Nobody cares about your dreams. The only person that should have to listen to that b/s is a person you've graced with your nakedness.
And since I woke up with just Kitty this morning and he clearly doesn't understand plain English...well I dreamed I was in Russia. In a hotel. A very large and presumably elegant hotel; which had busy, confusing wallpaper and cryptic Cyrillic signage. I was alone, wandering around kind of lost.
At first I was all, this is lovely! this is huge! I'm all amazed I'm in Russia! But the further I wandered, the less comfortable I felt. I became sure that someone was following me, my heart started beating faster, I turned and went through an archway and the hallway I found myself in was a dead end. I retraced my steps and found restrooms in the next hallway, but couldn't tell which of the two crazy words I had to choose from read "ladies".
A strange and crippled man with withered legs and aluminum crutches finally helped me, even though the crippled man completely skeeved me out. The bathroom was tiny and cramped, but recently remodeled. I found teeny, tiny eyeglass screws on the toilet seat. Clearly a clue, but of what? The toilet bowl was filled with sea shells, small, sunken bathtub toys and smooth, pretty stones. Another clue. I suddenly found a cat litter scooper in my hand and began to quickly clear out the bowl before someone came in to check on me.
And that's pretty much all I remember.
WTF?? While I would love to go to Russia someday, there are many other places in the world I'd go first. And if I am going to dream of being scared in Russia, wouldn't Lubyanka be a better choice, or...what's the frozen tundra they send you to when you're an enemy of the state? Siberia!?
Even my dreams have become pedestrian.
*sigh*
And since I woke up with just Kitty this morning and he clearly doesn't understand plain English...well I dreamed I was in Russia. In a hotel. A very large and presumably elegant hotel; which had busy, confusing wallpaper and cryptic Cyrillic signage. I was alone, wandering around kind of lost.
At first I was all, this is lovely! this is huge! I'm all amazed I'm in Russia! But the further I wandered, the less comfortable I felt. I became sure that someone was following me, my heart started beating faster, I turned and went through an archway and the hallway I found myself in was a dead end. I retraced my steps and found restrooms in the next hallway, but couldn't tell which of the two crazy words I had to choose from read "ladies".
A strange and crippled man with withered legs and aluminum crutches finally helped me, even though the crippled man completely skeeved me out. The bathroom was tiny and cramped, but recently remodeled. I found teeny, tiny eyeglass screws on the toilet seat. Clearly a clue, but of what? The toilet bowl was filled with sea shells, small, sunken bathtub toys and smooth, pretty stones. Another clue. I suddenly found a cat litter scooper in my hand and began to quickly clear out the bowl before someone came in to check on me.
And that's pretty much all I remember.
WTF?? While I would love to go to Russia someday, there are many other places in the world I'd go first. And if I am going to dream of being scared in Russia, wouldn't Lubyanka be a better choice, or...what's the frozen tundra they send you to when you're an enemy of the state? Siberia!?
Even my dreams have become pedestrian.
*sigh*
Friday, February 16, 2007
Dear Lord
It's been a month since I posted?? WTF??
There has been knitting and drinking and movies and drinking and music and drinking and psychics and drinking.
And did I mention I've been drinking?
So little time...so little alcohol.
I'm just saying.
There has been knitting and drinking and movies and drinking and music and drinking and psychics and drinking.
And did I mention I've been drinking?
So little time...so little alcohol.
I'm just saying.
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