If You Want to Live, You Should Not...

Read something on which I have written "January 4, 2006" and then leave me a sticky note that says, "Maybe it should say, 'Wednesday, January 4, 2006.'"

Wear a train conductor's hat and sing some silly song about not wanting to be anything other than a prison guard's son. Just fucking be one, then, and take off the hat. And then shave your head. Basically everything going on up there is wrong and full of ick.

Say, "Oh, Erin." Then turn around, walk away, and then do that fucking two finger beckoning thing that I suspect only rich women do to their maids to get me to follow you to where you can show me the 14 million things you want me to do that there are no logical reasons for me to do.

Talk in such a way that there is a distinct possibility that if you were on tv, the little bouncy ball would be travelling down your words.

Be a drunk Irish boy who is very gropey and impossible to understand. And then don't grab my friends. And then don't sniff me.

October Letters

Dear People of the Universe,

You know what you should not do if your family is being batted around by events that make you (but more so your mom) want to cry more than a little?

You should not watch a show about two-headed babies.

Because at more than one point in that show? One of the heads comes off, and it’s not the best.

Seriously,
e

Dear Sheryl Crow,

Good is good and bad is bad?

No shit.

Smooches,
e

p.s. On the cover of Self? One of your eyes is TOTally bigger than the other one. heh.

Dear Rachel Ray,

Just when you win me over, you hook up with Oprah? Really? You JUST got less annoying. Haven’t you seen Dr. Phil? And don’t you already have four shows? Leave some for the rest of us. Well not me so much because I really could not want to be on tv any less than your friendly neighborhood hermit but still, you see where I’m going.

You had to push it, didn’t you?
e

Dear West Wing,

Shut it. Immediately.

Bradley Whitford, I’m looking at you. And get rid of your stupid name while you’re at it.

I mean now,
e

Dear $,

Why don’t you like me? Don’t you want to hang out with me for a little bit at least? I’m working, I’m reasonably nice, and on certain occasions, I have to say, I’m a hoot.

I really feel like I am offering you a very nice place to stay so please? For a little while? Just stay here and hang.

I’ve got beer,
e

Dear girls on Laguna Beach,

Who smushed in all of your faces?

I mean really…why do you look like that? All of you…it’s freaking me out.

No offense, the boys look funny too,
e

Dear Squash,

When did you get so good? I’ve been very anti-you for very long and now I am jumping right on board. Let’s work on the name now, ok? Lovely.

I’m not talking to you, squash the game…you’re silly and dumb and men only play you to talk to other men about the secretaries they are sleeping with. Well, at least that’s the gist I got from Dynasty.

Squash the vegetable..who knew?
e

p.s. On further reflection, I realize that “Squash the vegetable” sounds like I’m telling you who are reading this to actually squash (as in smush in the manner of the not so lovely ladies mentioned above) the vegetable of your choice. If you think that? Then you’re stupid. Sorry.

Dear my cable company,

Switching Fox News with Mtv…just plain mean.

I don’t like you,
e

Oh, Kids

**I just read this post over. It's not that good. You can skip it if you want.

I cannot think of a single thing to write about. Nothing. Not one. Zero things. I have been rendered completely useless by television. I cannot stay away from it. There are millions of zillions of things I would like to read, yet I do not. I watch tv.

At this moment? I am watching something about Kanye West's purchase of a diamond-encrusted Jesus head. They keep saying "Jesus heads" over and over. See why I am stupid?

What will kill me though? What will actually cause my brain to leak out of my ear? That would be My Fair Brady. A completely made-up yet plotless reality show about two people who squick me out. And this is not one of things that you know you shouldn't like but secretly do. I DON'T like it. I don't care what happens from one episode to the next, I don't feel any emotion at all while I'm watching it, and I don't particularly pay attention to the "Next time on..." which I am usually obsessed with. Yet, I watch. And then I hate myself. Awful. And I should be reading right now, but it's getting late and I have to work tomorrow...and also, you know, the Jesus heads.

Work. Eh. And then a mouse was spotted in my apartment. And then I have been attacked two times by giant mutant bees that appear to emerge from within my walls, and then I am currently the walking definition of living paycheck to paycheck.

So, in an effort to secure my financial future I have been reading up on all sorts of important stuff with initials and was all ready to make all these moves to increase my FICO score when I learn that I have somehow gone over my credit limit. Ridiculous! Now it will take me like a million years to make it up. Not so happy there.

In other news, for the first time ever in my life I had to wash out TWO vases at once and that was nice.