happened? Why all of a sudden is her big scary clown face all over the place talking about it? She was on the cover of Redbook or some other magazine of it’s ilk (they all blend together; maybe it was Ladies’ Home Journal) with the quote "Sometimes when you can’t forgive your husband, you have to forgive your children’s father" under the picture of her and her two funny-looking kids (I’m sorry, it’s true. Cody’d never get any kind of acting job if his mother weren’t Kathie Lee. You know it and I know it). Now she and Frank are going to be on Dateline 20 Minutes or one of those newsmagazine shows, and whatcha s’pose they’re going to be talking about? Why, Frank’s infidelity and how much pain it caused Kathie Lee, of course. Get over it, Kathie Lee; we sure have. And don’t let the door hit you in the ass on your way to obscurity. Buh-bye. Do you suppose it’s her way of getting her revenge? Just keep bringing it up, like her goal is to talk about it and "We can help other couples who are going through this very thing, Frank! Of course, other husbands might choose someone other than a not-very-good-looking bleached blonde bimbo ho to fuck, but – what? I’m just saying…" So Fred and I watched most of Dogma last night, and the rest of it this afternoon. I liked it a lot – that Jay is one rude motherfucker – but then, I don’t carry all that Catholic angst around with me, either. Matt Damon was surprisingly funny, and it was good to see the actors who played Dante and Randall in Clerks again. Today, my errand-running consisted of going to Bruno’s Pharmacy to pick up my birth control refill, and then taking the pictures I gave to Fred as presents for his birthday last year to be framed. The framing of those pictures is his birthday present this year. I intended to go to a framing store across from Bruno’s, but I arrived in the little strip mall to find that where it had previously been is now a martial arts center. I drove around Madison, searching in vain at all the strip malls on Highway 72 for frame stores, and finally called Fred and asked him to look in the phone book to see if there were any frame stores anywhere in Madison. We finally located one, and I headed there. Once there, I discovered that I’d only brought three of the five pictures with me, so after I picked frames for the ones I’d brought, I ran home (figuratively speaking) and got the other two and brought them back to the framing store. Just like yesterday, it was almost 1:30 before I got around to eating anything, and by then I was STARVED. As I was settling down with a cheeseburger and fries from Burger King (yes, VERY BAD Robyn, buying junky fast food instead of eating something homemade!) the kitten walked through my little bowl of ketchup with her big fat back foot, leaving litter pieces behind, which made me gag, the very thought of it, and I couldn’t finish my meal. Anyway. The spud is going to Washington, DC with a bunch of other 5th graders, some 5th grade teachers, and parent-chaperones next week. They leave at 4:30 am Sunday morning, and will be back Friday morning at 8 am. I kind of wish I’d known I wouldn’t be working anymore last Fall, when I signed her up to go, ’cause I wouldn’t mind going to DC myself. I was there once with Fred – the weekend we met, as a matter of fact – but it’s all a sleep-deprived blur, except for the incredible lemonade in Union Station (is that right, Union Station? I think it is) and the fact that I walked around for a good ten minutes with crumbs all over the front of my blouse from the pizza I had with that lemonade before I realized they were there and brushed them off. To this day, I give Fred hell for not telling me they were there. I’m still keeping my fingers crossed that we go to Destin later this month. Fred doesn’t like to talk every detail to death like I do, damn him, so I haven’t been bringing up the subject. He said the other day "What I’d like to do is not think about it, and then just do it when the time comes." So I’ve been VERY good about not bringing it up compulsively like I WANT to. Of course, this whole paragraph is completely passive-aggressive, because he reads my journal every day or every few days, so this way I’m making sure he knows I still want to go. Hey, at least I admit it. —–]]>
05/03/2000