I am sick. A nice bleearghish sort of sick. Tropical Storm Ernesto* is blowing through town and has brought misery to each and every one of my head holes. My eyes are watering, my nose is running, my ears are throbbing and everything I eat tastes like linty socks. And the sinus pain! OH MY GOD, THE SINUS PAIN. I am discovering sinuses I never knew I had, like on the back of my skull.
* "Tropical Storm Ernesto" always makes me think of some tempestuous storyline on a Telemundo soap -- a storyline usually of my own invention because I love to watch Telemundo soaps even though I don't speak Spanish. Does anybody else do that? It's way fun.
Maria: Ernesto! Why you come into my life if all you do is destroy? Why you enjoy making me cry, Ernesto?
Ernesto: Because I do not like your hair. No one with that hair deserves of the happiness.
Ernesto: I also probably slept with that nun from the last scene, I think.
Ernesto: And now we make angry love. Ernesto OUT.
Yes. Clearly, I am sick. I may perhaps be at death's very door.
So here: a bunch of paragraphs and entries that I sort-of started this week before getting bored of them. Lucky you!
The new TiVo is working out well, thank you for asking. (Oh, did you not ask? Am I hearing those pesky voices again?) Although we're still getting to know each other. For instance, earlier today, according to the Now Playing list, it was recording Blue's Clues. But when I hit the "live TV" button I was affronted with some other random obnoxious children's show. I immediately yelled at New TiVo for recording the wrong damn channel, and spent several tense moments futzing around with the remote before I realized that it WAS recording Blue's Clues, albeit on that strange, mysterious other input it has.
So obviously I don't understand the Second Input of Dual Tuner Mystery yet, and then New TiVo got back at me for yelling by auto-recording Full House, the Munsters and two episodes of Sanford & Son as "TiVo Suggestions."
To help New TiVo understand what kind of wanton, sinful household it's been brought into, I'm recording five different showings of The Aristocrats. Just for fun.
It's taken a few weeks, but I think I've finally come to terms with the fact that I think someone stole my shoes at Blogher. My black Chuck Taylors never made it home. And since nothing is ever my fault, I am blaming y'all.
Or maybe the maid stole them. Or Ernesto! Maybe he followed the maid into my room and they made angry love on the bedspread and then he thought the sneakers were hers and stole them so he could finally prove that Umberto's baby was not hers, or something. Which would make sense because 1) my little plastic Philosophy powder scoop is also missing and could have been used to scrape DNA evidence from the insoles, and 2) the bedspread totally smelled like ass.
Or maybe I just forgot to check under the bed.
I have never read The Da Vinci Code. Or seen the movie.
I never saw the movie because I haven't read the book. I haven't read the book because everybody kept telling me don't buy the book, they would totally lend me their copy, seriously, they'd bring it tomorrow, totally. And then no one ever lent me their copy, and I cannot bring myself to buy the book now, because seriously, there are five frillion copies out there, I must have ONE DAMN FRIEND who will lend it to me, but I never remember to ask anymore because it's not like it comes up in coversation ever, and also, I'm too embarassed to buy it now because JESUS CHRIST, WHO HASN'T READ THE FUCKING DA VINCI CODE BY NOW? LOSER.
Hey! How about more pictures of a baby sitting on a broken TiVo?
By the way, anybody who mentions the words "September 30"...
...or "one year old"...
...is totally getting fed to the tire. The end.