Remember how I was going to be on Red Eye on Friday and you were all like “I can’t wait that long,” well now you don’t have to! Hooray! Woohoo! Yippee! More similar words!
Dick Wolf's oeuvre
When I look back on my life and think that there are so many things I could have been doing in my thirties such as having kids and, um, scrapbooking, I suspect the following post will serve as a piquant example of how I frittered away my time. Now I’m wondering if an example can be piquant. If it were an example of salsa, certainly, however what if it’s an example of time frittering? A spicy, bold example?
But as I was saying: Am I the only one who vastly prefers Law and Order: Special Victim’s Unit to the regular Law and Order or God forbid that Vincent D’Onofrio version which I can’t stomach at all but is always playing on Jet Blue flights. I mean is there a channel that exclusively airs the Vincent D’Onofio Law and Order because I think Jet Blue subscribes to that satellite service. And then there’s Law and Order: Trial by Jury which don’t even get me started on because I haven’t seen it. But basically if it doesn’t involve Olivia shuddering over live victims and befriending children in a way which I know is supposed to strike us as compassionate but often comes off as creepy, and Stabler needing get a hold of yourself, Elliott, I don’t want to watch it. Goddamnit what is the name of that other one? The forensics one? I need to fly cross country so I can find out.
Apartments
Is it wrong to want to rule out an apartment just because it's a walk-up? The irony is that I'm typing this while at the gym, on the stairclimber. Not really. I'm on the bike. And perhaps if I had to cycle to my apartment I wouldn't be so quick to say no, but the idea of having to climb a number of flights to get home bothers me. What if someone is chasing me and my legs get all noodley/rubbery and I can't push myself any further and I'm carrying sixteen bags of groceries, two cans of hairspray, emergency television makeup, three books, a drink and a lawnchair and I slip? That would never happen as I would never carry a lawn chair. But this is reason five million and twelve why looking for an apartment when it's hot and summertime is stupid. Maybe I wouldn't mind stairs in the winter. Anyone? Weigh in please.
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I really don't feel good about this
…however I seem to have gotten sucked into Date My Ex: Jo and Slade.
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This morning's Fox & Friends segment
I had three railroads and Boardwalk and two yellows
We had to cut the Monopoly game short so I can go to sleep and be coherent tomorrow but that's quite alright because I was losing anyway. Perhaps I angered the Monopoly gods when I placed the top hat on my head, picked up the iron in my right hand and the dog in my left and announced, 'Hi, I'm here to iron your dog.'
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Just as fast-moving as I remember
I'm playing Monopoly. I'm getting gouged I tell you!
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Fox & Friends Saturday morning
The attentive reader already knows this, but I’m going to be on Fox & Friends tomorrow morning at 9:45am ET doing the news rewind segment. I’m filling in for fellow Red Eye person and pig doodler Bill Schulz. I don’t know where he is but I know that he and I bonded over the awesomeness that was Michael Ian Black on Red Eye. Did you see him? Wasn’t he funny? I thought so. Anyway, yeah. I bet Bill is shark hunting or shark diving or shark riding. That would be a Schulzian thing to do.
puppies and lesbians
I don’t mean to blow smoke up Gawker’s ass by linking to them twice recently but their referring to Lindsay Lohan and Samantha Ronson as “lesbadoodles” cracks me up.
Incidentally, when my friend Dustin and I worked at Time Out New York we wanted to breed puppies in the kitchen and call them TONYdoodles. Somehow that morphed into discussions of doodledoodles, but I can’t remember why exactly.
My new thing
Did you hear about my new thing? It’s that it takes me for-fucking-ever to write and some of what I write turns out to be crap! Unless you are one of my editors/bosses in which case I am lightning quick and only ever brilliant.
Seriously though, I feel like I’ve been wearing this constipated writer look on my face for days now and it’s interfering with my otherwise beautiful visage and sadly frizzled hair (yes, I know it’s not a word but I think it should be. the FRIZZLING being from the body wash as shampoo fiasco of two posts ago). What was I saying? I don’t know but I wish the writing just poured out of me in sheets of awesomeness but instead it seems to come out a tiny drip at a time. I need a brain colonic. I also need to stop with all the disgusting metaphors. Sorry readers. I’m tired and gross.