Wednesday, April 28, 2004

Sometimes When I Don't Sleep For Days,
I Start To Hallucinate Elephants And William H. Macy

Ok. Well, yeah, I've been missing in action, but really, there was no need for you to seek solace in drugs or alcohol or barnyard animal sex. Oh yes, folks, that's right; I know what you've been doing. Just because you can't see me doesn't mean I can't see you. Everyday my super hero powers get a little bit stronger. It helps that I'm wearing my Wonder Woman underwear. And haven't taken them off since March. Yeah.
Anyway. Listen, I can explain my absence, really I can. It's like this. I'm pretty sure I was taken hostage by Mai Mai rebels in the Congo. Again. I mean, it's definitely either that or I recently became Mrs. William H. Macy and have been in North Dakota on my honeymoon. Or I was incarcerated for taking obscene photos of my mailman. Or I was incarcerated for drugging and tying up my mailman so I could take the aforementioned photographs. Or maybe I just decided to devote my life to ice skating and spent the last 14 days trying out for The Special Olympics Disney On Ice. Is it so hard for you people to believe that I might have been recording an album of romantic duets and Air Supply covers with Ice Cube? Ice Cube frowns on blogging, you know. I suggested he start a blog, but when I told him guns weren't involved he asked if we could just get back to singing "Making Love Out of Nothing At All". So we did.

Hey. Did I mention I have nothing to say? Because I don't. Clearly.

Confessions Of A Dangerous Mind, Part Deux,
In Which Skipper Is A Strong Swimmer,
And Steve Speaks To Me From The Afterlife
While Dressed Not As A Dog, But As A Bear

1. I used to try to drown Skipper. You know Skipper, Barbie's flat-chested sister? Or was it her friend? Lesbian lover? CIA Handler? Truth be told, I was never really clear on Skipper's relationship to Barbie, I just knew I hated her, and when cutting off all her hair and telling her she was adopted after her real family left her in a dumpster to die didn't put her in her place, drowning just seemed like the next logical step. It never worked though. Probably because she was never really alive to begin with, but who can say for sure other than Skipper herself and she moved to Vietnam with my next door neighbors when I was 10, so she can't really come to the phone right now. Or so her new owners keep telling me when I call them collect to see if Skipper has forgiven me for all those botched attempts on her life.

2. I'm strangely attracted to Steve from Blue's Clues. Well it's not like I watch Blue's Clues on a regular basis or tape it when I am going to miss an episode or bought all the DVD's and lock myself in my room at night so I can pleasure myself while watching Steve talk to an animated salt shaker. I've just seen it a few times while babysitting my nephews (babysitting to me equals "Auntie is going to let you watch TV! All night! While Auntie runs out to the liquor store!" Except for that part about the liquor store. Maybe.) and I was intrigued by, well, by his shirt, mostly. When I finally decided to come clean about my feelings for Steve to a friend who has a child of her own (and thus knows things about Nickelodeon and animated dogs and baby puke), she told me Steve was DEAD. Dead or in college, she said. His age? According to her he is "50. Or 25." Anything else I should know about Steve? "He writes music now. And he maybe ditched the green shirt for a bear costume and some Lips". Well if that doesn't describe my dream man, I don't know what does.

3. I like to wear swim goggles in the bathtub and pretend I'm deep sea diving.

This was almost fun and all, but now I have to go write out my wedding gift thank you cards (oh, you didn't send a gift? Nice, real nice. I'll remember that. And so will William H. And also, William H. says to tell you that people GO TO HELL for lesser things!)/pick up trash along the highway as part of my community service (definitely worth it for those nude mailman photos, let me tell you)/call Nancy Kerrigan to ask what time we will be practicing our triple salchow with side by side double axels, and will Moira Kelly and D.B. Sweeney be there?/start taking my meds again. Immediately. The green ones. We don't want any more incidents like this now, do we?


Tuesday, April 13, 2004

The Magic 8 Ball Says "Outlook Not Good,"
Which Translates Loosely To
"Your Retinas Will Burst Into Flames"

5 Things You Didn't Catch Me Doing Over The Weekend
And Not Just Because I Was In Jail, Like Last Time

1. Roasting a pig on a stick in my front yard. Or partaking in any pig-on-a-stick roasting in anyone's front or back yard. Or partaking in any human sacrifices at the altar of the devil.

2. Cracking my head open while being run over by a three year old on a tricycle. Every time my nephew came wheeling towards me at full tricycle speed he would scream "Watch ouuuuuuuuut...I'm going crack your head open!"
In terms of how frightening it was, I can only compare it to that time the other Smurfs turned on Papa Smurf and attacked him with a giant mushroom. So yeah, I told him I didn't know him well enough to let him crack my head open and he got all serious and adult like and said "No, just for pretend!" Ohhh, ok then. Tell that to THE POLICE, little boy, that's what I said.

3. Finding any eggs with dead baby chicks in them. Or any eggs at all. Easter Bunny bastard.

4. Attaching bunny ears to my cats' heads and making them pose for pictures. Because I'm not quite at that stage of the disease yet, thanks for asking. Maybe next year.

5. Giving birth. Yeah. One of my older brothers, who is married and settled with 2.5 kids, the white picket fence, the SUV with built in DVD player for those mindless hours of Elmo Takes Manhattan, or whatever the hell Elmo is doing these days, and the whole shebang, loves to ask me what I'm "up to" which is his special way of asking if I'm "with child". Uhh, aren't we missing a step here? This weekend I got bored so I told him I was in fact pregnant and that I had just dropped the afterbirth on the floor of his gargantuan SUV's passenger side and left the baby in his neighbor's trash can. He just stared at me the way you are probably staring at the screen right now, with a combination of fear and horror and confusion and a smidge of excitement. And then we had sex. Oh. No, I'm pretty sure that didn't happen.
Now if someone could kindly show V.C. Andrews to the clearly marked Exit door inside my brain, that would be great.

5 Things You Might Have Caught Me Doing This Weekend
If You Weren't So Busy Playing With Your Wind-Up Toys

1. Being given a brand new digital camera and photo printer. Just because I asked and just because no one can say no to this face. Except my mailman. And Jared Leto. But let's not get into that. Once I figure out how to work the thing I will be posting photos galore. Maybe. Tasteful photos. Of my ASS.
No, not really. Maybe of my mailman's ass though.

2. Being called cheap by a GAS STATION ATTENDANT because I didn't want to buy "Two Reese's Peanut Butter Cups For A Dollar," and when did gas station attendants start working on commission anyway? I ought to go back there next week and recreate that "You work on commission, don't you?" scene from Pretty Woman and show her a receipt for 50 Reese's Peanut Butter Cups which I will have purchased at a different gas station. Except I won't. Because I have this thing about buying candy where I buy my gas, ok? Never the two shall meet! Or something.

3. Watching Fillmore, some cartoon that, as far as I could tell, is about a bunch of narc middle school kids and that's about it. What the hell? I was severely disturbed and confused and if I was a kid watching that I would never want to go to school. Oh and I want my mommy.

4. Listening to country music. It might have even been the same song, just played over and over and over again. Something about some guy's wife leaving him and taking the dog, maybe? I couldn't really tell you because after 2 minutes and 20 seconds my ears started bleeding. I'm even surer now than I was when I saw my face on the milk carton that I am either adopted or abducted. If you think you might be my real family, please e-mail me your address so I can come live with you. Or just a check would be nice. Your choice. I love you, real family!

5. Painting my nails Vixen Red to see if there is any truth to the Amish tale that red nail polish = sex. Yeah. I know what you are thinking. Does it count if it's with a family member? What about if it's with Haley Joel Osment? Sick-o! You just had to go and ruin a perfectly quaint piece of Amish history, didn't you? You are going to HELL, baby.

Ok. Now you know too much. I'm going to have to kill you. But it will have to wait, because I have more pressing things to attend to, such as the growth in my left eye. Don't worry; I've narrowed it down to either a tumor or a baby. I'm hoping it's a baby because I'm sure that giving birth out of my eye socket would come with some sort of merit badge that I missed out on when my parents refused to sign me up for The Girl Scouts.


Friday, April 09, 2004

This Is Sort Of Like That Time I Didn't Pay My Pimp
And Winnie The Pooh Repossessed My Soul
(Only With Less Honey)

If my life was a movie, at this time it would be a slightly more psychotic version of Being John Malkovich with me as John Malkovich, and weirdly enough, Sarah Jessica Parker playing the role of EVERYONE ELSE, including the monkey.
So yeah, I'm afraid, and you should be afraid for me. Please.