Oh my GOD y'all. What a day. What a fricking freaking fucking day.
I have a cold that will not quit, a sinus headache and a hacking cough like my three-packs-a-day uncle. Who died. And who I just made up because I couldn't think of anything and I needed a simile. I also stepped on my dog this morning and dropped the can opener on my cat. Then I ruined my Spiga shoes by spilling a gingerbread latte on them.
Then? When I went to write today's entry? I had this great idea to do a Drunk Amy Retrospective. Links to my drunk posts and a series of vignettes about Things Amy Has Done While Drunk And Found Out About Later. It was going to be brilliant. And then I looked at the calendar.
So I compiled all of this week's Advice Smackdown questions, which were all wonderful, but I just wasn't feelin' any of them. Or even feeling them. Everything I wrote was just blah blah lame lame jump the shark blah. I just wasn't up for the hair advice as I had the worst stringy flat frizzy hair day ever today, combined with winter-onset dry skin and two nasty premenstrual zits. (Just except for the actual "premenstrual" part, as I STILL DO NOT OVULATE OR MENSTRUATE BECAUSE MY OVARIES ARE RETARDED.)
So I hope no one needed really urgent advice this week, because I suck. I also look as shitty as I feel if that's any comfort.
And now? I have just finished watching A Little Princess, which I TiVo'd last week and have been waiting for Jason to work late or go see strippers some night so I could wallow in my little-girl-sappiness. (Me: "But it was directed by Alfonso Cuaron! Who did Y tu Mama Tambien! With the threesome! So it's cool!" Jason: "Whatever.")
And lord, I cried like a baby. Full-on heaving sobbing with hiccups and tears and runny eye makeup. (Waterproof my ASS, Loreal.) It was the best cry ever. Even better than Steel Magnolias with Sally Field crying in the cemetery just before Olympia Dukakis is all, "Hit [Shirley Maclaine]!" and they all start laughing through the tears which is Dolly Parton's favorite emotion.
That scene doesn't hold a fucking candle to the end of A Little Princess. See, she's all hungry and tired from being a servant and she recognizes her father but he doesn't remember her because he has amnesia from the nerve gas from the war and Sara is all "PAPA! PAPA!" and sobbing and then the police drag her away in the rain and then that mystical Indian dude is all "SCHWAA WAA WAA WHAMMY" and her father is like, "SHIT!" and runs outside and screams "SARAAAAA!" just as the police are taking her away and the evil school mistress is all, "Fuck." and then they all hug and are crying and happy and wah.
It was awesome. I think I might watch it again.
So there's really no way I can do an Advice Smackdown in this schmoopy sappy state. I have absolutely no edge tonight. I really would just like to tell you stories about magic and how all people are good and all girls are princesses and la la la.
And y'all would just fucking hate that. So piss off. Til tomorrow, anyway.