The Bachelorette last night (we watched American Idol) and I managed to fuck it up and miss the first ten minutes or so of the show. Which is all that cute little Kelly Jo was apparently in, so I only got to see about ten seconds of her trying to explain something to the way-too-talkative Ryan. I was glad to see Ian and Lanny make it into the final four, but if Ian wants to go any further, he’d better start opening up. Also glad to see Ryan gone – that boy talked WAY TOO MUCH and he was too needy to boot. Cute guy, but he needs to calm down a tad. On American Idol last night, I was glad to see the pen salesman go through, as well as that cute little redhead – John Stevens? Something like that – and the girl whose name I cannot remember. She was in the group with Scooter Girl and she had purple (red?) dyed hair. To me, she looked JUST like Betty Boop, so now that’s what Fred and I call her. (Oh look, here she is! Amy Adams. Funny thing is that I had sucked it up and was going to go through all the contestants to find her and she was the first one!) I cannot believe that damn Lisa Wilson made it through, though. I liked her when she auditioned, but that whole blowing off working to hang out in the pool with that annoying guy (he didn’t make it through, did he? I hope not!) just got on my last nerve. Clearly I’m getting very old and crochety, when seeing kids partying instead of working for what they want pisses me off.

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I rented and watched Thirteen last week, and believe you me, folks, I gave a quick prayer of thanks at the end of the movie that the spud has never – and I’m willing to bet never will – put me through anything like that. Speaking of the spud, I turned on her computer to check her chat logs (don’t even look at me like that. She knows there’s no such thing as privacy on her computer when it comes to chatting and never will be as long as she’s young and dumb). I scrolled through the names, recognizing most of them (she does most of her chatting with me, her cousin Brian, my sister, my parents, and a few friends from school). I came to one I didn’t recognize and opened the log, figuring it was going to be a friend from school whose nickname I didn’t recognize. It was a 19 year-old guy from India, and what was the spud’s response? I DON’T KNOW YOU, I CAN’T CHAT WITH YOU, PLEASE LEAVE ME ALONE. Cracked me up, it did. The guy responded with “Y?”, but she ignored him and he went away. Good spud.
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Okay, it’s a crappy, windy, cold, rainy day, and I want to go sit on the couch in front of the fire and read and wait for the cable guy to show up, so I’ll toss up a bunch of Bean pics and call it an entry.
Bitchy Bean. Nosy Bean. Sleepy Bean. “What the hell’s going ON?” Bean. Yawning Bean. Yawn-and-stretch Bean. Cute-n-cuddly Bean. Love-the-daddy Bean. Nighty-night Bean.
(All pictures taken by Fred, who will complain if I don’t credit him.) ]]>