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Please spend your memorial day with me at 11:30pm on E!

You’re probably wondering how I feel about the fact that Friday’s episode is airing Monday. At first I was disappointed at having to reschedule the viewing party I’d planned in sixteen different cities across the states. I was going to jump out of a cake in all of them at the same time, which is harder than it sounds, but upon reflection I must admit that I appreciate the two extra days of anonymity this will afford me. I mean, I’m used to living a life that’s slightly better than everyone else’s in the entire world, and I’m used to treatment that’s maybe a hair more professional than say, what you might receive, but at the end of the day I’m still a normal, if extraordinary, person and I have mixed feelings about that changing as it certainly will any minute now.

I’m in California, sipping a pina colada on the beach while my assistant fans me with a palm frond. Seriously, Esmarelda, must you fan so vigorously? Your fervent fanning nearly knocked the pineapple wedge out of my drink! Yes, it’s speared on tiny little sword most likely found next to a tiny little treasure chest—the purloined bounty of rogue pygmy pirates who met some unforeseen and possibly grizzly fate at the hands of something bigger than they were—judging from the size of their weaponry, and its most curious color (translucent yellow, in this case, but these tiny swords have also been found in red, light blue and white. also green), I’d say these pirates could be overtaken by any sort of fist sized fish. A hearty clam could also pose a threat. Anyway, a lot of history in this garnish, so I beseech you to fan with care.

Okay fine, I’m sitting at my parents’ kitchen table. I’m not drinking a pina colada and no one is fanning me. I’m not hot though, so I don’t really need to be fanned. I wouldn’t mind a light breeze.

I haven’t seen it yet but my profile of Evan Handler ran in yesterday’s Page Six Magazine. If you have access to the issue, please read it and let me know what I said. Just kidding, I remember what I said. Anyway, Evan Handler played/plays Harry, Charlotte’s husband, in Sex and the City, lest you are like, “wait, why do I know that name?” And here’s a tidbit/ factoid that didn’t make it into the story (because I didn’t put it in there) : When we went to take our seats at Hugo’s I asked him where he wanted to sit and he chose a seat in front of a bookshelf that had geodes displayed in it. “Ah, you’re keeping your back to the geodes! Very smart,” I said, because sometimes I say things like that. “What?” he asked. I repeated. “Oh! I thought you said I was keeping my back to the jew,” he explained. “Nope. Geodes, geodes,” I said like someone with geological tourettes. They were magnificent geodes, by the way. Sparkly and devout.

I was looking at this photo of Barbara Walters this morning thinking the flower thing on her lapel looks awfully familiar. Then I realized where I’ve seen it. On my computer! It looks just like the puff of smoke icon on a Mac which shows up when you remove an icon from the dock.

Okay, that wasn’t even funny. It’s like I’m not even trying!

I've decided to take my life in my hamds and blog from the elliptical machine. Not only is it probably inteerfering with my workoit but its also intefering with my ability to type om this small keypad. This sentence took m$e thiryt miniutes. Not realluy. Okay, I give up. Score one for the startrac. I hate you vile machine.
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So I go to get ice the other day and I can’t help but notice this strange little ice protuberance extending straight up from one of the ice cubes. It defies physics, or my I-didn’t-actually-take-physics-I-took-chemistry sense of physics. Speaking of taking chemistry though, or just math in general, last night someone joked that they “changed pi” and I actually said “they did?!?!” A hearty laugh was had at my expense and I didn’t have the energy to explain that of course I didn’t really think pi had changed, I just thought maybe some sort of official decision was made about where to cut pi off. That doesn’t really make sense though. But then Avogadro’s number came up and an old college friend whom I hadn’t seen in awhile said that it was 6.02 times ten to the negative twenty fourth and I said that actually it was negative twenty third. None of us went home and had sex that night. Incidentally, I used to fight all trappings of nerdiness when I was younger and yet as an adult I enjoy brief bouts of nerdistry. But while we all remembered once knowing about Avogadro’s number, none of us really remembered what a mole was exactly.

But back to the ice. Isn’t it weird?

I turned the horny cube on its side to try to better capture it. It didn’t work so well but you can sort of make it out.

Earlier we* were making preparations for an upcoming TV thing and I was asked if I’m going to show up to the taping camera ready or if I’ll need hair and makeup. I said that I was born camera ready but that I would need hair and makeup.

Then I saw the call sheet and it said “Full Hair/Makeup” so I think I will take advantage of this opportunity to request a perm and also that they make me look like a cat.

*By the way, I’m not lapsing into the royal we. There was actually another human being involved in this. His name is Ned and he’s invisible. He lives a pencil box on my desk and comes out when I am lonely, scared, or need a pencil.

If you don’t even have a pot to piss in then couldn’t you just use a restroom?

And let’s say all you have is a pot to piss in, wouldn’t it be better to still use the bathroom and save this pot for other things like making soup out of tin cans and newspapers, provided you could find those?

Unless “pot” in this case means toilet, like you don’t even have a toilet to piss in, in which case I would suggest using a Le Creuset 2 3/4 qt. soup pot. They come in an array of colors and according to the web site, “each pot is shaped to promote the natural circulation of the ingredients while simmering, so soups and stews cook evenly.” Imagine what it would do for your urine.

Also, you could toss your hay-pennies into this pot.

that I’m already a fan of the Denise Richards reality show. Memorial Day Weekend can’t come soon enough! Unless maybe I’m just a fan of the commercials? I just hope the show lives up to the commercials because they’ve set the bar ridiculously high/low.

Speaking of commercials, am I the only one who thinks the chemistry.com commercials are kind of ruthless? The ones where they show a passive-aggressive couple making promises to each other, promises like “I promise not to tell anyone that you pluck the hair in between your eyebrows,” “I promise not to tell anyone that your family is insane,” “I promise not to tell anyone that you wet the bed on a regular basis,” “I promise not to tell anyone about your DUI’s,” “I promise not to tell anyone that it took you three tries to pass the bar and by that point not even your close friends thought you would pass it,” “I promise not to tell anyone that you have a speech impediment and also, you’re tone deaf.” “I promise not to tell anyone that the way you sneeze bugs me,” etc. Maybe I’m just too sensitive? On behalf of strangers?

Well it finally happened. I made some gym buddies. Well, not really buddies yet, but I shared a moment with Thelma and Sam. Note: I don't actually know their names but they seem like a Thelma and Sam. Anyway, I was laying or lying on some ab crunch machine thing and I heard Sam say that working out is painful. Then Thelma, stretching on the floor, said it was boring! They were talking amongst themselves and I got up and as I was walking away I said 'I think it's boring AND painful!' They both laughed and nodded and invited me to go yachting with them.. I had to decline as I get seasick and I already have plans to go heliboarding this afternoon.

The thing is that I don't really find it painful and boring. I may change my mind tomorrow when those damn tens get me, but still, I like to meet people on their level. Don't worry about it, I'll come to where you are, I often say to people who are stuck in trees or drowning. I like to think they appreciate my willingness to be accomodating. Occasionally I tire of always being so selfless and altruistic and giving and generous and kindhearted and when I do, it's best to avoid me because I engage in petty theft and dabble in grand larceny, but I think it's justified because my daughter needs the medicine and that's why I had to also turn to prostitution and black out one of my teeth and begin speaking as well as singing in a French accent. Who am I? Shall I condemn myself to slavery? This is my opera house! Don't look at me! Turn your face away! Acunamatada! Means no worries? My knowledge of the Disney songbook is strikingly lacking although I enjoy myriad songs from The Rescuers and also Lady and the Tramp. Dumbo, too, but that shit makes me cry.

For my birthday I received the collector's dvd of emmett otter's jugband christmas, quit laughing at me, and it was excellent. I'd forgotten how good the songs were. And there was a bloopers reel which was hilarious and a whole behind the scenes documentary. I recommend it highly to myself. (Despite the fact that I'm kind of paid to be a critic, I don't feel comfortable imposing my otterphilia on you. Not yet at least.)

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