March 31, 2006
I’m losing my mind. Seriously. I can’t concentrate on work. I can’t sleep. I can’t eat. Okay, I can eat. But the concentrating and sleeping parts? Totally true.
You see, I am currently obsessed with writing a screenplay. And not just any screenplay– oh, no, no, no!– but a screenplay of epic proportions! Yes! An Oscar-worthy screenplay! A screenplay that perfectly captures the absolutely riveting story I have whizzing around in my head, the story that I can’t stop thinking about. It’s a “dramedy.” Or, oooh, a “comma,” if you will. You know, a comedy-slash-drama? Well, honestly, it’s more drama than comedy, so I guess it’s a dramedy after all. Which, BOO, because as far as portmanteau terms go, “comma” totally ROCKS.
I mean, listen. I even bought software. SOFTWARE! And not just any software, but expensive screenwriting software. I can see My Crazy reflected in TGIM’s eyes when he looks at me, all like, “Oh my good lord, you just spent HOW MUCH on that screenwriting software you just installed on your iFred, you silly, silly girl?!” And my eyes are like, “But, the muse, TGIM! I can’t fight THE MUSE!” (Heh. Which naturally reminds me of the opening scene of Xanadu, right before the Muses come to life, when Sonny says, “Aw, what the hell. Guys like me shouldn’t dream anyway…” Which, allow me to say? Worst. Delivery. EVER.) And I get all excited and I drag my laptop around with me and type like mad and mutter to myself things like, “Yeah, American Beauty has NOTHING on this bad boy! And what? Good Will Hunting who?” et cetera, and generally act like a crazy person with access to kickass Mac technology, and I say to myself, “DUDE, you must chill. Because of the children.”
Then, of course, I remember another screenplay I wrote, which was a fun little romantic comedy, and I wonder, Wait. Should I go back and rewrite and polish that story first? And then I remember that the market is simply glutted with romantic comedies and I agonize over whether it would even be marketable if I COULD get it past the dreaded slush pile on the desk of the assistant to the assistant to the guy who delivers coffee to the famous Hollywood agent. And The Crazy starts all over again.
So, really, the fact that in my bleary-eyed, early-morning, get-myself-dressed-in-the-dark-so-as-not-to-wake-TGIM haste, I pulled on my super comfy, super ugly UGGs with jeans and a kicky blue blazer (with pink lining! aaaaaaw!)… well, my unfortunate Casual Friday wardrobe choice is the very least of my worries. No matter how many curious stares I got on the Metro at 5:00 this morning. Right? Honestly, though. It’s as if these people had never seen fluffy pink UGGs before! GOSH! Oh, just kidding. They’re beige. And decidely un-fluffy. I may wear UGGs, but I draw the line at walking around with furry twin Muppets on my feet. But still. UGGs at work? Dude. What was I thinking?
So, yeah. If you find my sanity, please send it back right away. I’ve been looking everywhere for it.
March 30, 2006
Confession #1: Okay, I admit it. I totally fast-forwarded my TiFaux to the last 7 or 8 minutes of the AI elimination episode. WHAT?! Don’t look at me like that?! I just was NOT in the mood for any of that Let’s Draw This Out Until It Is Literally Painful For Viewers Because Of The Head Slamming Against The Coffee Table nonsense, and besides, I was too psyched about an all-new Veronica Mars episode to be able to concentrate for a WHOLE HALF HOUR OF NAIL-BITING STRESS. I mean, honestly. I have three crazy, loveable, insanely high maintenance kids. I just don’t need anymore stress.
And then I saw Katharine in the Bottom Three and BOOM! Stress. She totally looked as if she would vomit at any moment, and not just in her mouth a little, but, like, full-blown projectile vomiting– you know, because of the nerves and the horror?– and I totally felt sick to my stomach, too, and I don’t think it was just all that Orange Chicken and Chow Mein I ate for dinner but honest-to-freaking-goodness stress (okay and maybe just a little bit of the Orange Chicken because, seriously, I ate an awful lot of it, yep, totally pigged out on the stuff because YUM!… but that’s beside the point, so whatev). Wait. What? Oh, yes. Katharine. She was NOT HAPPY, y’all. She could barely even fake the smile and stupid Ryan (looking good, Ry-Ry! Dig the ‘doo! MWAH!) is all “How does this feel?” and I was screaming at the TV going, “HOW THE HELL DO YOU THINK IT FEELS, YOU STUPID, STUPID (but totally hawt in a wee way) MAN!”
BECAUSE ACE GOT MORE VOTES THAN KATHARINE. The world? Quite possibly insane. Yep. What the hell were you thinking, America?! GOSH!
Thankfully, America did not completely let me down, but this CANNOT happen again or I will have to swear off this show forever. FOREVAH, I say! Like I totally did last season when Constantine was voted off and I was like, “I shall never watch American Idol again! NEVAH!” ‘Cha. Take THAT, American Idol. Okay, sure, my resolve only lasted until the next week, but still! I mean it this time! Probably!
Of course, I’m actually just re-posting my DWM AI posts to my brand-spankin’ new AI blog. But damned if they don’t BLEEP me, y’all! I can’t say DAMN! Or HORNY! (But I can say “ass” and “hell” so WTF?) I have to go back and fix my posts in those spots because “BLEEP”? Well, it doesn’t quite covey the sentiments I am oh-so-eloquently trying to express with my strategically well-placed potty-mouthing. Plus, it’s so Network Channel 1989. Honestly. It’s 2006! There is partial nudity on TV now! Am I right? Well, AM I?! And I can’t say “damn”? This is not to even mention the fact that Lisa sang a song with the word “damn” in it and she’s only SIXTEEN years old. I’m freaking thirt… um, twenty-something years old, for God’s sake! I ask you, where’s the justice?
Hee. AI let a sixteen-year-old sing the word “damn” and they won’t let me blog it. Heh. What sillies.
But anyhoos, it’s FUN to post over there because these, wacky, angry, die-hard fans of contestants I may not recap in the most, um, let’s say flattering manner get ALL up in my grill over the least little thing. And hey, for the record, I didn’t say Kellie looked like a hooker; that was all TGIM. Hello?! I put quotes. DUH. Too. Funny. But I like to give ’em a hard time, so no biggie. I mean, honestly. If people are gonna be calling me names, I’m gonna be sayin’ something back, fo’ rizzle! WOO!
Anyhoos, here’s the link.
Confession #3: My little Mack is going to have her tonsils and adenoids surgically removed from her body and she is FUH-REEKING out, and all I keep thinking is how bad it’s going to suck when she hauls off and decks the poor nurse who is attempting to stick an IV in her arm, then hops off the table and hits the floor running, all the while screaming, “Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!” I hope they give her a sedative first, that’s all I’m saying. Screw that! I hope they give ME a sedative first. Or, oooooh, a shot of whiskey to dull the pain, perhaps? Oh, get your fingers off CPS Speed Dial and step away from the phone. I meant for me. Because OH! EM! GEE! The surgery thing? It’s going to suck. Hardcore suckage. Yep.
And is it weird that I hope the doctors save the tonsils and adenoids and send them home with her in a little jar of formaldehyde?
I thought so.
March 29, 2006
Is it just me, or was Paula uncharacteristically lucid last night with her comments making sense and whatnot? Huh. WEIRD. Like Twilight Zone weird. She must have hired better writers, which, hey… good call.
GEORGE! Hi, George! ‘Sup? Dude. George got hosed. I couldn’t even watch the rest of Season 3 after they dumped George. George was AWESOME. Love you, George!
Lisa — Girl? That was Un!COMFORTABLE! What were you thinking? Even the judges were like, “The hell?!” Buh-bye.
Kellie — Um, Pickles? Don’t wink at the camera, especially when you’re singing off key, mm’kay? It’s tacky. And honestly, I didn’t hate the performance. I know, right? My world is spinning out of control! I therefore damn you with faint praise.
Chris — Why you so angry, Chris, huh? Why? With the yelling? And the angry glaring? Anyhoos, I can’t believe– Ooooh! Looky! Smoke! Lasers! ooooooh… aaaaah… Um, what? Er, okay, while I am sure you are a lovely, lovely person, I really don’t need to see all the way up your nose (okey dokey, Mr. Cameraman?). I knew you’d do Creed. Effing Creed, man. I totally won the office pool. Ha! Thank you, my little one trick pony! But hey, I’m digging the scruff, so there you go.
Taylor — The stylists are sure treating you right, Taylor, totally working their magic because… Woo! And rawr. You are looking almost disturbingly hawt. And that performance was oh-so-soulful and darn purty, I tell you what. Judges? Crackheads. That being said, I want my Soul Patrol (Woot!) back, okay? Okay? See, I like the funky dancing and the crazy twisting and the snapping and especially the woo!ing. C’mon! But still, love you big lots. (Seriously, dude’s too good for this competition. I’m not even kidding. I’d totally pirate his record, I like him THAT much.)
Mandisa — Eh. That was SOOO yelly. I’m so over the yelly. And the camera people kept taking the song in an unnecessarily literal manner because whenever you said the word “bottom”…? Yeah. I’d kick someone’s ass if I were you because denim isn’t at all forgiving, you know what I’m saying? But still, it’s strange, I suddenly feel as if Jesus totally loves me. Yep. Totally feeling saved and stuff. Which is way cool, so bonus. Can I hear a big AMEN?!
Bucky — Again, my world? Out of control. See, I kind of liked this. No, really. I am so not kidding. And the little slidy dance move thingy? So cute. But not loving the hat. I’m serious. The hat is bad, dude. Listen to what I say. Oh, and ajdhsa ajsdfgh gheir, okay? What? You couldn’t understand what I just said? Well, I guess now you know how I feel! GOSH!
Ace — What did I say about the nasally all up in the nasal bidness, huh? HUH?! It’s so incredibly unpleasant. And if that shirt ain’t coming all the way off, don’t break out the Dirty Diana Shirt Rip, you hear me? No one likes a tease. And it was so clearly a desperate attempt for votes from the female (and way gay) demo; it was a little embarrassing for me to watch, actually. But oh, did I laugh. Yes indeedy. Then I was like, “Oh… DUDE. Just, no.” Gosh. I am so over you, Ace. But still… pretty. Go in to acting or modeling, dude. Something where we can just look at you, ’cause you are SO not anyone’s Father Figure anymore and that’s the truth. (Paula? Two words: Corey Clark. Yeah. You must chill.)
Katharine — You attempt Christina? Whoa. Ballsy move, my friend. Ballsy move. The judges are all, “Best of the night!” and I’m like, “Huh. They must be laying off the crack.” Which is good because drugs can KILL. But you are not allowed to dress yourself anymore, Kat. Because COME ON.
Paris — Oh, girl. The hair? For the love of God, WHY? Man, I hate it when Simon is right. Sure, your voice was fanfreakingtastic on this song, but the dancing? Totally made me feel dirty. You would so get detention if you got caught busting the freak like that at a school dance. I’m just saying.
Elliott — You are no Bo and that’s all I have to say about that… because I totally miss him and his flingy hair and growling and mic stand acrobatics and why doesn’t anyone do any of that this season and anyway you can’t compare but that’s okay dude, because it’s totally not YOUR fault that you aren’t Bo and you’re growing on me. I just wasn’t feeling the Bo-ness. I did, however, feel a tad bit of Marky Mark-ness. Which is unfortunate. That is all.
Off to watch Chicken Little with the kiddos! Right now a big ol’ fat pig and an ugly duckling are singing karaoke and it is insanely funny: “So tell me what you want, what you really really want, I wanna, I wanna, I wanna, I wanna, I wanna really really really wanna zigazig ha!” Man. (*shakes head affectionately*) Those Spice Girls.
And now I’ve just learned several new idioms for urination: pee, tinkle, whiz… make pishy?
What are we talking about?
Hee! This movie’s FUN.
March 28, 2006
You know what is a funny word? Freckle. For serious. Freckle is a funny word. Say it. Freckle. See? Freckle, freckle, freckle. Weird, huh? Frecklefrecklefrecklefrecklefrecklefrecklefrecklefreckle… You almost don’t even remember what the word means anymore, do you? FRECKLE! (Freckle.)
Nother. People say it all the time, and it is totally not in the dictionary. I wish it were because people– even smart ones, y’all!– say “nother” all the freaking time. It would be simple to add it to the dictionary, really: “Nother (adj.) Other, but with an N thrown in for kicks. EX: I can’t believe my mom gave me a whole nother donut! Score!” That way, when people say something like, “Well, that’s a whole nother story!” or “I’m going to buy myself a whole nother box of donuts since you ate the last one!”, it will be totally legit and I won’t end up giggling and pointing while saying, “Nother… you totally just said ‘nother’… A whole NOTHER!… Hoo!” which inevitably leads to angry people wanting to punch me in the nose. Which is never fun. (Okay, fine. I believe “nother” is in the dictionary, but only to say that it is unequivocally incorrect.)
Oh, my, my, my, y’all!… Miss Kellie “Pick Pickler!” should ABSOLUTELY wear her high school prom dress tonight on American Idol because WOO!
Hey, y’all! Looky here, at my purty li’l prom dress! Ah jist KILLED at the prom in that get-up, Ah tell you what! Too bad Ah didn’t have me any of them there fake eyelashes (which felt like tarantulars, y’all! for reals!) like Ah got to wear on American Idol. Those were tickly, y’all, but looked real good. Maybe then Ah would have won Prom Queen instead of Bobby Jo, the fake li’l slut. Anyways, Ah ‘member that my grandaddy told me that Ah looked like a two-bit harlot in that get-up, but Ah said to him, Ah said, “But grandaddy, Ah can’t help it if my dress is in two bits. It was already like that when Ah bought it at the store!” And hey, don’t my belly-button look fiiiiine?! Ah mean, look! Ah’m just the picture of that there genie lady in Ah Dream of Jeannie, right? You know… hmmm… what was her name on that show again?… Anyways, Ah sure look fiiiiine. Maybe Ah’ll send home fer the dress. Good LORD, Ah bet Simon would jist bust a guy when he saw me in it. On account a me bein’ a naughty mink, and all. I’m a mink!
March 25, 2006
Joy is dragging your kiddos down to the elementary school to teach them how to shoot a basketball by introducing them to the classic game of HORSE, then giggling in the most embarrassing, absolutely NOT grown-up manner as your middle daughter skips around the basketball court– attracting the attention of pretty much every ever-loving person within a half-mile radius– shrieking excitedly in her shrill little voice, “Let’s see… I’ve missed two times… I’m a HO, Momma! Mom, did you hear me?! I’M! A! HO!”