OneFatBitchypoo.
You’re welcome.
* * *
So I’m chiming in late on this whole Paul McCartney/ Heather Mills thing, and I don’t have a lot to say about it, except that I was pissed when he got married to a much younger woman after he and Linda had their GREAT LOVE STORY and spent only like 11 days apart during their entire marriage, then two years later he’s getting married again.
HOW ABOUT SOME MOURNING, PAUL?
(Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know, I read it, too – people who were very happily married and lost a spouse tend to remarry much more quickly than someone in an unhappy marriage. I don’t CARE. Mourn a little, you fucker!)
Also, the refusal to sign a prenup is one of the big all-time boneheaded moves in Paul McCartney history, I think. Yeah, I believe in everlasting love and all that, but to be worth that much money and not sign a prenup? Stupid, stupid, stupid. Hell, I signed a prenup – in fact, it was my idea, to shut up a relative of Fred’s, who insisted that I was marrying Fred for his money (let’s forget all about the fact that I’m the ONLY one who encouraged him to leave the job he had and start a company where he’s making three times as much, shall we? Bitter? Me? NAH.), and neither of us had much at all.
Next time (oh, you KNOW there’ll be a next time), maybe Paul will give the idea of a prenup a second thought.
Probably not, though.
* * *
I taped the Dateline NBC special with Mary Kay Letourneau and Vili Fualaau Friday night, and watched it Saturday afternoon. I swear to god, those two just give me the screaming creepies. If she doesn’t have herself a pair of crazy, twirling eyes, I don’t know who does. She just really strikes me as someone who isn’t all there. I mean, honestly – how “all there” can you be, to have a sexual relationship with a thirteen year-old when you’re thirty-four? And her soft little voice, and the way she always defers to him when they talk gives me the creeps, too.
And he, he’s got the eyes of a serial killer.
Gah.
* * *
I was walking outside one day last week, when I passed a car parked on the street. It was a purple Firebird, and I glanced at the license plate, and saw that, appropriately enough, the tags were personalized.
Heh!
* * *
Meme, stolen from
Whitters.
I AM: Wondering if I need to get a pillow to sit on. My ass appears to be shrinking and there are… bones under there? Can that be right?
I SAID: “She’s stronger than she knows. I wish she knew it.”
I WANT: To be floating in the ocean with a froufy drink in one hand.
I WISH: I could fly. Literally. That would be so badass.
I HATE: The heat. Well. The heat above 95, in direct sunlight, to be exact.
I MISS: The ocean.
I FEAR: Things flying at my face.
I HEAR: The dishwasher, and Sugarbutt snoring.
I WONDER: What I want to be when I grow up.
I REGRET: Less than you would imagine.
I AM NOT: having a good week. The PMS monster has reared her ugly head and I want to eat everything in sight.
I DANCE: Never. Trust me – the world is better off without my
Elaine Benes gyrations.
I SING: Horribly, but with heart, depending on the song.
I AM NOT ALWAYS: Gung-ho.
I MADE: Something for
Nance for her birthday, which I still haven’t sent out. I’ll take a picture of it and post it once she’s gotten it. It cracks me the hell up. (I’ll mail your box o’ birthday stuff out in the next few days, Nance!)
I WRITE: When the spirit moves me.
I CONFUSE: Gavin de Becker and
Gavin DeGraw. Also, the Bills – Pullman and Paxton. Not to mention Julia Stiles and Erika Christensen.
I NEED: To find a drink I love as much as I loved Diet Coke. Nothing I’ve tried has come close.
I SHOULD: Get up and put medicine on the rash on my arm.
I START: Early in the morning. Once the cats wake me up around 6:15ish with their howler monkey ways, I can’t get back to sleep, as much as I try.
I FINISH: Early at night. In bed by 10 most nights. I swear to god, I used to be a night owl.
I BELIEVE: We are all stronger than we know.
I KNOW: I’m not going to
want to get up and walk tomorrow. I also know that I will.
I CAN: Wiggle my ears, roll my tongue, and raise my left eyebrow. Also, I’m told I do a pretty good Cartman voice.
I CAN’T: Sing worth a damn, but that never stops me.
I SEE: Sugarbutt to the left of me, Poo to the right, and Tommy Tubs’ hot little body draped across my arms.
I BLOG: I don’t blog. I journal.
I READ: Less than I used to before the surgery. I used to do the majority of my reading between 9:45 and midnight every night, but now by the time 9:45 rolls around, I’m ready to go to sleep and so there’s that much less reading.
I AM AROUSED BY: A sense of humor, someone who’s willing to smile and gets my jokes, and muscle-y arms and shoulders.
IT PISSES ME OFF: When someone objects to an interracial couple by claiming that they’re only concerned about “the kids.” My fucking
ass you’re concerned about the kids.
I FIND: Change on the ground at least twice a week. And I always pick it up, whether it’s face-up or not.
I LIKE: My life.
I LOVE: My husband, my daughter, my family, my cats.
* * *
I fail to see how this could be comfortable, but he stayed like this for a good, long time.
* * *
Previously
2005: Dumbass things I have done today.
2004: No entry.
2003: No entry.
2002: No entry.
2001: Ass in the Past will be the name of my 14th novel.
2000: Ah, the heart warms.]]>