octogenarian wit

what happens when you teach a couple of scrappy old women to use a computer?
wonderfulness ensues.

if you need a quick distraction from all the networks' political pundits -- if you despise Elizabeth Hasselbeck -- and if you like sassy comebacks and "cussing," then you should probably check out the blog Margaret and Helen.

in their own words, here's the gist of Marge and Helen's blizzog:

My name is Helen Philpot. I am 82 years old. My grandson taught me how to do this so that I could “blog” with my best friend Margaret Schmechtman who I met in college almost 60 years ago. I have three children with my husband Harold. Margaret has three dogs with her husband Howard. I live in Texas and Margaret lives in Maine.

i've been reading the blog this morning, and let me tell you! with post titles such as
"IF YOU ARE UNDECIDED, YOU'RE NOT PAYING ATTENTION,"
and "ELISABETH IS A MORON AND THEN I HAVE SOMETHING IMPORTANT TO SAY,"
and "SARAH PALIN IS A BITCH... THERE I SAID IT," this is exactly what i need in my life right now.

i know, i know. it seems too good to be true. and maybe it is. i think the jury's still out on whether these are actually two old broads or whether they're a couple of witty 20-somethings who volunteer for Obamarama on the weekends.

but what if? what if this is actually the blog of some magical old women whose tone kinda reminds me of ELLEN's regular caller Gladys? life would be a dream.

i choose to hold out hope that Margaret and Helen are legit, so i'll keep reading.

as for you, when you're finished checking out their blog, here's a reminder of how fun it is to talk to sassy old bitties:




(p.s.: big ups to andrew sullivan for suggesting M&H!)

"I thought it reeked!"

it's been a long time coming, but my review of A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius is finally ready.

here it is: IT SUCKED! (as 'The Critic' would say).

that said, i'd still encourage you to read it. though i'm not quite sure WHY...

i could've written this review months ago, after finishing this heavy, dark, bipolar novel, but i wasn't inspired to do so until i read Dan Savage's review of the book. Savage is, after all, one of my favorite columnists and has been ever since my early days in Pittsburgh, when i used to scour the weekly city paper for his dirty sex column.

here's a snippet (what a faggy word! ha! snippet!) of Savage's review of AHWOSG:

Brotherly love

Dave Eggers' memoir, "A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius," has charms to break the Savage heart.

This book review contains a little information about the book being reviewed -- a short account of its contents -- but it should not be construed as a serious comment on the qualities of the book under review. In fact, I would like to take this opportunity to advise Salon readers to disregard this book review for several reasons. First, I am totally unqualified to review Dave Eggers' new book, "A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius," or any other book. I would also, then, like to take this opportunity to apologize in advance to Mr. Eggers, the author of a very fine new book, should I make a mess of this review, as I expect I will and fear I already have...

Not, of course, that my opinions matter much at this stage; I have no illusions. In no way can this review harm Mr. Eggers, something that I, as a fellow writer, instinctively wish to do. The New York Times' Michiko "She Won't Like It, She Hates Everything" Kakutani loved Mr. Eggers' very fine new book, calling it a "virtuosic piece of writing" and Mr. Eggers "staggeringly talented..." The Wall Street Journal also heaped praise on Mr. Eggers' very fine new book in Weekend Journal, an arts, living and real estate section recently added to that publication. (Friday's Wall Street Journal is now a must-read among the film-going, book-reading, estate-buying set.)

...

Mr. Eggers does not write of his tragedy -- and there is no other word for it -- as if it were the most horrific thing that has ever happened to a person. As Mr. Eggers states in his acknowledgments, "he is not the only person to ever lose his parents, and ... he is not the only person ever to lose his parents and inherit a youngster. But he would like to point out that he is currently the only such person with a book contract." (Mr. Eggers also includes one of my favorite lines from Oscar Wilde's "The Importance of Being Earnest" in his acknowledgments: "To lose one parent may be regarded as misfortune; to lose both looks like carelessness.") We live on a blood- and tragedy-drenched planet, and while the plight of the Eggers family is heartbreaking, worse fates have befallen other families.

...

Mr. Eggers' parents died at home, surrounded by their helpless, anguished children, attended by nurses, while painkilling drugs dripped into their I.V.s. Here in Oprah-land, we like to pretend that pain is equal, that no one suffers more than the next person. That is not true, as Mr. Eggers admits. His parents died too soon, they died painful deaths, but they weren't hacked to death in front of their children by their machete-wielding next-door neighbors.

...

The general thrust of Mr. Eggers' very fine new book, besides fate's maddeningly random cruelties, is how Mr. Eggers and other media-savvy, well-educated young people make their way in the world: They fake it. By holding the roles fate forces them to play (parent, wage earner, MTV "Real World" cast member) at arm's length, Mr. Eggers and his contemporaries mock and inhabit their lives at the same time, living compromised lives like everyone else, but paradoxically on their own terms. We root for Mr. Eggers as he reinvents the role of parent in "A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius." But like the dads we wish we had, and like the dads we all long to be (and can't be), Mr. Eggers' dual roles as sibling and father figure allow him to alternately play dad and best friend, wearing both roles lightly...

That Mr. Eggers can keep his sense of irony alive while his parents are dying and then continue to keep it alive once he has stepped into the normally irony-free roles of parent, breadwinner and provider is no small achievement. Mr. Eggers knows that parenthood is a joke the universe has played on him, but he manages to pull off an amazing double-cross, turning parenthood into a joke that he's playing on the universe (or, at the very least, on Simon & Schuster).

...

What's most amazing about Mr. Eggers' very fine new book, what staggers the reader and justifies the book's title, cover art and position on the New York Times bestseller list, is how thoroughly Mr. Eggers' self-deprecating tone and narrative tricks suck the reader in. Mr. Eggers allows us to remain as wary of cheap sentiment as he himself clearly is, paying us the compliment of not presuming we'll weep on cue, like Oprah's studio audience. Mr. Eggers doesn't rely on the facts of his family tragedy or on his readers' too-often-taken-for-granted empathy. He dares to entertain us, and then, once we've let our guard down, his very fine new book breaks our motherfucking hearts.

...

In fact, I challenge anyone to read even the first chapter of Mr. Eggers' very fine new book and remain unmoved. As I lay in bed with my boyfriend one night, while he read about Rwanda and I read Mr. Eggers' hilariously horrifying account of his mother's death, I became so upset I had no choice but to take another Xanax and go watch "Letterman."

i disagree with almost every complimentary comment made by Savage. i wasn't moved, and we all know i have a VERY warm, compassionate heart.

there was something about Eggers' style... the potentially beautiful and heartwarming relationship between Eggers and his brother/son was reduced to a train-of-thought, manic-depressive mumble, in the mind of this reader.

you can read the rest of DS's review here, if you like. don't waste your time, though. i gave you all the good parts.

and, again, i don't know why i'm saying this, but you should read the book. borrow mine, if you don't want to spend the $15 (totally over-priced at urban outfitters, if you axe me). i have a feeling that, even though i didn't appreciate it, YOU MIGHT.

weird, huh?

and if you HAVE read it, i'd like to know what you think. because maybe i just... didn't get it.

a little help from my friends

when i complain
when i forget
when i am down
when i get tired

my friends remind me. sometimes via Gchat.


*****: I know you have exactly what you want
you'd accept nothing less



he's right, you know.

i wrote me a letter.

...but i haven't received it yet.


my friend T is a treasure hunter. rather than digging through piles of sand, though, she digs through piles of internet sh*t and uncovers its hidden gems. and then, because she's such a nice girl, she shares them. usually here.


the other day she shared one that has me enthralled.

FutureMe.

it's like a time capsule, but comprised of words. buried in the mysterious internets, destined to resurface in a year, five years, ten years, whenever you want it to come back to you, or to someone else. until it does, anyone can read it online (don't worry, it's anonymous), and herein lies the magic of this site.

sure, it's nice to be able to write the future you a letter, give yourself advice, just in case you forget to remember something. but that's not what i like about the site.

the beauty of the site is that it satiates the voyeur in all of us, allowing us to peer into strangers' emotions and personal drama. perhaps causing us to wonder who wrote the note. or take to heart the back-from-the-future advice, sympathizing with the giver.

check out the site. and for those of you who are so lazy that you won't take on the burden of clicking your mouse and checking it out for yourself, i've copied a few that i appreciated. i will not, however, be sharing with you my own letter to my future self. cause that's private, y'all.

* * *

Dear FutureMe,

you need to tell him. Tell him you love him. Tell him before it is too late..oh ya, also happy valentines day =]

(written Sat Feb 9, 2008, to be delivered Sat Feb 14, 2009)

* * *
Dear FutureMe,

I'm with hunter right now. I love him. I hope you're not dead, in jail or out of college!!!

Greg
(written Sun Feb 10, 2008, to be delivered Mon Mar 5, 2012)
* * *

The end. Is near.
12-21-12

Be prepared.

(written Fri Dec 15, 2006, to be delivered Sat Jan 1, 2011)

* * *
Dearest Future Me,

At the moment you're feeling lost and terrible. You're trying to convince yourself that you're making the right decision. You're moving back home. You came here, 3 provinces away from where you originally started, to be with him and it hasn't worked out.

I love him, with all my heart. And I swear to god if anything else goes wrong I'll be so upset. Was it worth it? Was he worth it? Right now I think he was. I hope he's still around.

Two and a half years of my life down the hole, but I'm not regretting a single moment of it. I just wish I could have made this work. I miss him already. He's beautiful and intelligent and outstanding. He's beyond words, and my love for him will never fade... it just hurts so much.

In a years time, you will receive this letter and if you're not over it - you're an idiot. Stop dwelling. Otherwise, I hope this finds you well.

(written Wed May 11, 2005, sent Thu May 11, 2006)

* * *

Happy birthday my princess...

You turn fifty today. I wonder if you still remember me...

I loved you with my heart when I wrote this e-mail. I hope you are still part of my life when you receive this...

YATLOML

(written Sun Dec 18, 2005, to be delivered Tue Jun 16, 2026)

* * *
Dear FutureMe,
I'm almost certain I'll have forgotten this.
1. For a short period of time you were happy.
2. You better have written a book by now.
3. Hopefully you're still with her.
4. Good luck

(written Sat Dec 31, 2005, sent Thu Apr 12, 2007)

* * *
Dear FutureMe,

hopefully you have a time machine by now, please send it to the past, i need it... send it to 6/28/2006 at 6:30 pm. in the event this is sent to someone other than myself, and you also have a time machine, please travel to the past, reply to the email, and i will give you instructions on how to deliver the time machine. to ensure you contact me, you can visit my myspace page, the url is swiftwithoutfeet

regards
past me

(written Wed Jun 28, 2006, to be delivered Thu Jun 26, 2036)

check out FutureMe here, and write yourself a nice note.

you got me again, stars.

There is a distinct difference today between who you are and how you feel. It's like you know what you want yet you still respond to everything that happens on a gut level. Your head and your heart have different agendas and ultimately it must be your heart that wins out. Although it may not be that simple to bring your rational mind to a rest, practice being flexible by softening your stance and meeting others halfway.


dear keepers of the sky,

how knowst me so deeply?
how seest thee into mine own soul?
and riddle me this: am i to get a raise soon?
speak on, guiding lights.
speak on.

M


disclaimers:
all horoscopes from tarot.com.
all rights reserved.
the author does not condone satanistic star worship (a/k/a "astrology"), but neither does he judge those who rely on it to choose lottery numbers or to help make important personal decisions. ahem.

no, really. EVER.

remember the shock and horror i expressed after wasting two hours of my life on "Lady in the Water," one of the most recent pieces of total shit coming from M.Night.Shamalamadong?

well that was nothing compared to the rage i felt last night after suffering through THE FOUNTAIN.

i should know better than to pick a film off the shelf the moment i see it and think to myself, "hmmm, i've never heard of this before." yeah, there's a REASON you've never heard of it before, jackass!

but the box was interesting. and i was in the mood for something fantastical.and, let's be honest, my primary motivation was that it stars Huge Ackman.

it was all downhill after the dvd cover.

and just to ensure that you never capriciously pluck it off a rental store shelf or click on the title on your On Demand list, i'll tell you what happens. in a nutshell.

the film follows three stories in one.
1. HugeAckman is a brilliant brain surgeon or something who is fighting to save the life of his fug wife, Rachel Weisz, who I have never really liked to begin with, and so I wasn't terribly sympathetic to the huge tumor eating up her brain as her studhorse husband raced against the clock, slaughtering monkey after monkey to cure tumors. mmm... monkeys...

the only redeeming quality of the film pops up in this story-line, and this is it: manstud with zac efron hair in all his scenes.
2. Huge also plays the role of the fictitious Conquistador in the manuscript written by his dying tumor-head wife. When he reads his wife's manuscript, he slips into a trance (AKA falls asleep out of boredom) and becomes the main character. the Conquistador is roaming through the Mayan jungle to find the Tree of Life, the sap of which is actually the fountain of youth.

3. The third story-line is disjointed and utterly confusing. the entire film would have been better without this part. basically, a naked, hairless, albino Huge Ackman lives in a bubble that is floating through the heavens toward a star. when he and his bubble reach the star at the end of the movie, he bursts into flames. until then, he survives by eating the bark of the tree that is, actually, his dying wife. SICK, dude.
not to give away the ending or anything, but EVERYONE DIES, basically. the brilliant surgeon fails to cure his wife, and the tumor just EATS HER BRAINS! and he goes crazy. the Conquistador finds the fountain of youth, but when he drinks its sap, he turns into an eternal bush (seriously, WTF?). and like i said, naked man in bubble bursts into flames.

for the love of god, don't rent this crap. i know i'm not Roger Ebert, but you've gotta trust me this time. you'll regret wasting your time watching The Fountain.

in fact, you've just wasted several minutes of your precious, ever-trickling-away life just reading about it. and if you wish you could get these past few minutes back, just imagine how i felt about the two hours i wasted last night.

i hate everything!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

to sum it up, WORST. MOVIE. EVER.

here's me.

this idea has been stewing around in my head for a while, and i've finally decided to share it. but not totally in my own words.

my buddy patrick's friend sheila decided to share some very personal and usually private information that most of us simply keep to ourselves.

and i really liked how she did it.

so i'm following her lead (thanks sheila) and divulging my own list.

rather than positing on what my top tunes say about me, as sheila did, i'll leave that up to you to decide. or not decide. either way...

sheila wrote:

Top 25 Most Played Songs

The best thing about the iPod playlist "Top 25 Most Played" is that you can't hide who you are when you look at it. All is revealed.

You may wish you were the kind of person who listened to Igor Stravinsky enough that he would show up on your Top 25 Most Played - but unless you are, organically, the kind of person who listens to Stravinsky on a daily basis - he will not be in your Top 25 Most Played. If you want your music to give off some kind of specific impression meant to impress others - if you want someone to think you're cool, or eclectic, or deep, or if you scoff at music made by 'the man' - if any of these things are an issue for you, then don't let anyone look at your Top 25 Most Played. Just keep it under wraps. If you're not comfortable with people knowing that you listen to "Day Dream Believah" so often that it makes it into your Top 25, then I suggest just not mentioning it.

In the interest of full disclosure - here is my utterly bizarre (and quite revealing) Top 25 Most Played...

So here it is, here I am, in my unvarnished glory:

. . .

and here's mine. here's me.

here's what comes through my headphones and speakers, rolls around my mind, manipulates my emotions, and gets me through the day:

1. Because of You (Jason Nevins remix) - Kelly Clarkson [i should add that this is my top song by an OVERWHELMING margin, 40 more plays than its runner-up.]

2. Don't Stop the Music - Rihanna

3. Hallelujah - Rufus

4. Never Again - Kelly

5. Since You've Been Gone - Kelly

6. Stolen - Dashboard

7. Gypsy Woman - Hilary Duff [wtf? when???]

8. Release - Timbaland

9. Somebody Told me (Remix) - Killers

10. In These Shoes? - Kirsty MacColl

11. Freakshow - Brit

12. Welcome to Hollwyood - beyonce

13. Radar - Brit

14. Big Girls Don't Cry - Fergie Ferg

15. In Da Club - Beyonce

16. Never Again (Remix) - Kelly

17. Chasing Cars - Snow Patrol

18. Check On It - Beyonce

19. Praan - Gary Schyman

20. One - Mary J.

21. Feedback - Janet

22. Piece of Me - Brit

23. Gimme More - Brit

24. We Belong Together - Mariah

25. Cater 2 U (Remix) - Destiny's Child

and a bit of my own commentary:

what i find most interesting about a person's Top 25 list is that it spans the life of the iTunes program. my list, for example, has been tallying for about 5 years, and some of these songs i don't even listen to anymore. it's almost a collection of quasi-memories, giving a glimpse of where we have been over the past few years. the ups, the downs, the poor musical taste... and judging by my musical preferences, i have, in fact, been a gay for the past 5 years.

btw, check sheila out here. i like her blog. it's random, it's fun. you just might like it, too.

and as you might guess, her Top 25 was waaaayyyy more eclectic than mine. i mean, i have lots of non-pop music, but apparently all i want to listen to is britney and kelly. hmph.

you are always on my mind...

i know i harp on gay rights and marriage equality, some months more than others. and if you're my facebook friend, i could apologize for filling your stalker-feed with countless posts regarding equal rights, bigotry, etc. could. but won't. because you need to know.

and since the recent CT supreme court decision, the subject has been fresh on my mind once again. how could it not be? it's in the news, on the fingertips of bloggers, and all over television with the upcoming Proposition 8 vote (hint: vote NO!) faced by Californians.

rather than talk your ear off (type your... eye off...?), i'll just share a few tidbits that i think will begin to sum up the progress (or lack thereof) of equality in the USofA. enjoy.

* * *

No government has the right to tell its citizens whom to love. The only queer people are those who don't love anybody.
—Rita Mae Brown

* * *

this video almost made me cry.

* * *

Marriage is one of the "basic civil rights of man," fundamental to our very existence and survival.
-USSC, Loving v. Virginia

* * *

thanks, A, for sending me this video. yo, you tryin' a tell me something?

* * *
a real money quote:
A government that would deny a gay man the right to bridal registry is a fascist state.
-Margaret Cho


* * *
and i'd like to conclude with a reminder to hope:

No army can withstand the strength of an idea whose time has come.



and JSYK, you haven't heard the last from me on this topic. this is just the beginning. in the upcoming weeks, you can expect an entry featuring excerpts from a fantastic Andrew Sullivan article re: civil unions, and another featuring my very own Non-apologetic Argument, currently stewing...

YOU'RE KILL(er)IN' ME HERE...

dear Killers, or more specifically, dear Brandon Flowers (aka "the cute one"):

you've done it again, ain't you?

i'm still listening to Sam's Town, and already you've got a potentially even more awesome follow-up in the works. i. am. excited.

don't tell Mr. Paltrow this, but your new single HUMAN has tooootally replaced "Viva La Vida" as my new fave wake-up song. you're now playing on repeat in Apartment 2F every morning and probably even waking my upstairs gaybors. i don't care, though, because i hear them slamming doors and stomping on the stairs at all hours. I HATE YOU, NEIGHBORS!

at any rate, thanks for the new song, and thank you in advance for your upcoming hotness, Day & Age (due for release on 11/25, bitchez!). you know i'll be first in line to get my illegally uploaded copy of the album the night before its release!

XOXOtobrandonXOXO,

M

* * *

if you haven't yet heard it, take a listen here on The Killers official site. OR just take the easy way out and enjoy this unofficial youtube bootleg:

zappa says...

Everybody believes in something and everybody, by virtue of the fact that they believe in something, uses that something to support their own existence.

it's only words...

i woke up on the wrong side of the bed. i can't say why. this morning was just off. very off.

and from a truly random source came my first smile of the day. talking to a long-distance friend who i'd never expect to say such a silly thing. but what he said was exactly what i needed to hear. what i needed to feel.

he said:

Radiant warm light I am.

and this morning that's exactly what i needed in my world.

"Am I bovvered?"

the catherine tate show is my new favorite thing, basically.



it's amazing how quickly you can watch two seasons on DVD. but now i want more.

your MOM's so gay...

i'm not sure yet what i think about this new Think B4 You Speak public service campaign.


on one hand, i'm sympathetic to the bullying and harassment faced by teenage (and younger) gays, lezzies, and non-GLBT kids who are labeled based on assumptions, stereotypes, and/or ignorance. i've been there. i know it's a problem. i know it can be traumatizing. we all know kids are assholes.

we also know that suicide rates among gay/bi/queer teenagers is alarmingly and disproportionately high. i know depression riddles these youngins. we've got to do something.

and for that reason, it's a great idea to initiate this dialogue and inform our nation's youth that words have both power and consequences.


on the other hand, i've long believed that words have only as much power as we will give them; to that end, we are able to slowly drain words of their potency. we can defuse these terrible slurs that can cause and have caused so much pain.

i'm no longer afraid of the F-word the way i used to be. in high school, the word's very utterance made me sick to my stomach, even if it was in no way directed at me (though it frequently was). over the years, i've heard it - and said it - enough that it's now just another word. like plenty of other nasty words, it can be used in a threatening and assaultive manner.

but fearing it and shunning its use doesn't solve the problem.

in fact, i think the word that shall not be spoken is much more powerful than the word that's taken for granted, ignored, shrugged off.

if ninth graders say "that's so gay" often enough, the word "gay" will cease to have such a devastating effect. it certainly won't be as powerful when it's hurled at an innocent teenage boy who may, in fact be gay. yeah, the bully just called you gay in the locker room. but you know what? three minutes ago he said the same thing about the field trip to Gettysburg. and everyone knows Gettysburg effing rocks!

as for the F-word, it's a more sensitive subject. it has become one of the most loaded words i can think of, and even some of my close friends cringe when i use it casually. apparently it's even worse than the C-U-Next-Tuesday word, which i more freely toss around, to the chagrin of my female friends.

for now, i'll keep using these terrible words. i'd rather own them than be wounded by them.

then again, i'm not a sensitive teenager stuck in one of the most terrifying environments known to humankind: high school. so i'll try not to scream "queer!" when i see an awkward 13-year-old boy walking down the street. there, a nice compromise.


what do you bitches think about this?

from the archives - verbatim

5 years ago today. 2003.
before bloggers blogged.
back when bloggers journaled.
when this blogger journaled.
verbatim.


Oct. 7

Que caprichoso!

Well, I was today. I did something so capricious. I guess I knew where I would get a piercing, but I never really thought I would get one. So I was in the mall... in the piercing shop.

The man said it would cost 8,000 colones, and I had exactly that much in my pocket. So maybe it was destiny.

Either way, I went into that little room.
"It's just like a shot, right?"
"No," she assured me, "this is going to hurt."
"Muchas gracias," I laughed. She was such a little bitch!

It did hurt. A LOT. I felt like it would never end. Then it was over... and it still hurt :-)

"A minute of pain for a lifetime of happiness," she told me in Spanish.

Does she think I'll have this piercing when I'm 80 years old? Or did she mean that this was the beginning of a lifetime of happiness? Have I been liberated? Am I now a free spirit, ready to live a life full of happiness and adventure?

Hmm... I think she just meant that I could keep my piercing for life - or the scar. I dunno.

I'f argued before that if the good Lord had wanted an extra hole in my body or a tattoo permanently on my skin, He would have given it to me. But now that I have gotten another hole in my body, I don't feel bad or weird. I, well, I kinda like it. I feel different - like I've got a great accessory.

It's so small - it isn't even a big deal, and no one will notice it. But the important people will. And I notice it. It was a liberating experience.


five months later i took it out.
i made the decision to get it before i knew my character.
and it still hurt sometimes.
and he didn't like it.


my, how far we've come!
.

coelho says...

"Love is not a habit, a commitment, or a debt. It isn't what romantic songs tell us it is -- love simply is."


-from The Witch of Portobello - one of my favorites.

stifling my laughter...

taking a break from my normal lunch break trek through the politically-charged, hype-overloaded, celeb-obsessed, and oft-depressing blogosphere, today i spent a little time chuckling for a change.

it may be stupid humor, but Oddee is a humorous blog nonetheless. we all love LISTS, and this blog has a bunch of comical Top 10-type lists, such as "10 Funniest Law Firm Names" and "Most Bizarre Magazines."

now that i'm relaxed, in a pleasant mood, and not foaming at the mouth at the latest bit of outrageous and appalling news about Sarah Palin, i'd like to share with you a smile. just a smile.

these come from the list, "15 Unfortunately Placed Ads." enjoy!





and if you are offended by any of these, please remember: i'm just the third-party messenger.

outta my outta my head...

For today I'll let it go
You've been good to me,
Have I been good to you?

chekhov says...

We shall find peace.

We shall hear the angels, we shall see the sky sparkling with diamonds.

peace.

Every day.

Samantha: Relationships aren't just about being happy. I mean, how often are you happy in your relationship?
Charlotte: Every day.
Samantha: Every day?!
Charlotte: Well, not all day every day but yes... Every day.



because a friend of a friend met SJP yesterday.
and because i've watched the movie repeatedly since it came out on dvd.
and just because... you know...



and while we're on the topic of the SATC girls, i gotta give mad props to Miranda Hobbs for her sassy anti-Bush rhetoric the other day, citing the administration's "fear-based, war-mongering, torture-supporting, homophobic, anti-immigrant bullshit." her words, not mine :-) ch-check it out.

"i'm so mad at you right now..."

the first words out of my mouth when my mom answered the phone.
fortunately she survived the phone call, because had those been my last words to her, i'd feel really terrible.

but i had to express my anger to this sabateur, this trickster. she may seem thoughtful and harmless, but trust me: evil takes a human form in this 5'7", transition-shade glasses wearing, tomato-cultivating "CSI Miami" aficionado... the world has known fewer women with her cunning, her sneakiness, her ability to plot.


i arrived home to find a huge box sitting in my foyer -- big enough to fit two toddlers, yet light enough to be empty. what could be inside it?

on the outside, a sweet card, addressed to me and Atticus.

inside:
1. kitty treats with atti's name on them (aww so cute... if just a little desperate. it screams, "i want grandchildren." but then, so does she, literally screams it every time my brother and i are home for holidays.)
2. banana nut bread (so thoughtful! homemade and healthy!)
and
3. two -- gasp -- oh NO she DI'N'T!!!


let me preface my outrage by pointing out that my mom knows i'm on a diet -- okay, in her potential defense, i've been on a diet since i was 7. but this time i'm REALLY on a diet. and she knows it.

i KNOW she knows because when i was home in mid-august, and she called me "chubby," i vowed to return at thanksgiving and SHOW HER. that's what i said. "I'LL SHOW YOU..."

at the time i had grandiose visions of anorexia, a gaunt frame by Thanksgiving, possibly showing up at the front door in a wheelchair due to my feeble, malnourished body. anything to prove a point...

and while that hasn't quite happened yet, i AM trying, and i've lost more than a few of my bar-studying, stress-induced summer pounds. and now, apparently, people are out to sabotage me. main culprit? my mom.

which is why she filled the huge box with potato chips. huge bags of potato chips. not just normal-size bags, but "Weekender" bags.

for those of you who are unfamiliar, the "Weekender" denotes a bag of potato chips the size of which should last a nuclear family one entire weekend, yet which i myself have eaten from start to finish within one evening at home, bored, in amishville. and she KNOWS THIS.

these central pennsylvania treats are like my kryptonite, only supposing superman wanted to devour kryptonite, rather than flee its presence.


i'll show her...

but for now, i have to go. i have an entire bag of potato chips to eat today.