Thursday, June 01, 2006

Postcards from the Couch

There is cataclysmic thunder and lightning outside, lightning that looks like it's going to come right in through the window and fry my brains. I love thunder, but I'd be lying if I said lightning doesn't scare me. It's electricity! Coming from the sky! If you say that doesn't freak you out, you're a fibber. Just because you have it under control in your house doesn't mean that it's benign if it rains from the heavens. What if it started pouring knives? Scalding hot Chicken and Stars?

The last week or so of my life has basically been eating, watching "Little Britain," and eating with people I'm telling about "Little Britain." Especially when it gets hot out, I want to recede into my house like a bear to a cave, and finding shows as unbelievably funny as this one are life rafts on a sea of bottomless boredom. "Little Britain," the extras on "Little Britain," and Good Friend delivery -- the greatest burrito and Chinese express in the five boroughs. This is everything you need to know about me.

The National Spelling Bee is on tonight, and these children probably shouldn't be on television. I was them. I had their poor fashion sense and not even the benefit of their IQ. Yes, I agree that they are incredibly talented, and intelligent, and probably will go on to win Pulitzers and Nobel Prizes, but they are not cute. They are awkward. N-E-R-D-Y, awkward. They have decided to televise--prime time and to millions!--the worst phase of human development through children whose most social skill so far is phonics. Can this not be on the radio? Or postponed until they, like me, realize in their sophomore year of college that using hair products or plucking your eyebrows isn't selling out? I can't even bear the thought that people have copies of the Mildred E. Strang Middle School sixth grade year book in which I appear like Our Lady of Orthodontia. I am terrified one of them will suddenly realize that millions upon millions of households have their pimples all zoomed in on their screens and die right in the middle of "lophophytosis," which I just learned is a contagious skin disease of fowls caused by a fungus.

"Little Britain," Good Friend, and watching televised dorkery. This is everything you need to know about me.

A few days ago, on the way to work, I noticed this three or four year old boy sitting on his grandmother's lap who was wearing a baseball cap that said "Princess." I felt sort of bad, but when wondered if maybe he had really gender progressive parents, and realized he will probably be the type of kid to grow up and enter his college creative writing workshops with an arsenal of stories of the most exquisitely poignant and painful type.

"Little Britain," Good Friend, televised dorkery, envying the future careers of unfortunately dressed kids. This is everything you need to know about me.

The other night, I had this really involved dream after Brad and I almost went to see an advanced screening of The Prairie Home Companion movie. I was dating Robert Altman, geriatric, present day Robert Altman, and living in his house, which was really nice and well decorated because in my dream he was also an accomplished painter. My whole family and a few friends came to visit me at the Altman pad, and they kept questioning my decision to date someone so much older than I am. I remember kissing his wrinkly cheek and assuring everyone that I was very deeply in love, but thinking in my head "this is kind of gross, but at least he's rich."

I do not have a crush on Robert Altman. This is everything you need to know about me.

1 Comments:

Anonymous anonymous mom said...

tho i now know everything there is to know about you, i feel like i don't know you none too much.

our lady of orthodontia. cutelol

2:46 PM  

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