oh, morning call, how i have missed you?

it just occurred to me that i have not checked the morning call all week. it's sort of like forgetting to brush your teeth before you leave the house. i mean, you do it everyday, it's part of your being, you don't even think about it, but then when you realize you didn't brush your chompers on your way to work, it seriously shakes your sense of being and self. 'i should schedule an mri or cat scan or something,' you think as gently imagine your life without a frontal lobe. anyway, we are back on track now. whew, you can stop panicking. i read the morning call, so you don't have to.

i'm not saying anyone should have seen this one coming, but opening a candle shop in the lehigh valley drastically increases your chances of fire destroying everything you have worked so hard for. i know the owners really were making a go at a serious business and everything, and this is a tragedy, no doubt, but really crime and bad news in the lehigh valley is like god's personal ironic playground. the 600lb anvil will fall from a transporting plane onto the acme building. irony in the lehigh valley crime/bad news scene, well, it just goes hand-in-hand.

see what i mean about irony: woman hit in eye with bb. it's like the christmas story mom is the puppet master in the lehigh valley and everyone is living out her worst fears. "don't leave that candle burning, you will burn down the whole store." "don't play with that bb gun, you'll shoot your eye out."

christ, it's like a cartoon in the lehigh valley this week. man hit in head with frying pan during robbery.

hooters air flight ends with passenger in handcuffs. not for the reason you think, though.

quotable quotes from my sister on the first week of november.

after a bitch session about a boy:
it, once again, begs the question, 'why can't men be women?' ANSWER THAT ONE, JESUS.

after i asked her how she was:
did i tell you that i think Max (her 8 month old) is eating ants on a regular basis?

work is interfering with my life.

to quote raising arizona, "H.I., you're young and you got your health, what you want with a job?" not so much blogging this week with the novel writing and, like, working, okay. but whatever, mama's cranky and needs more coffee, valium and cabana boys. it would take the edge off. this is why ceo's have bars in their offices, you know. still, it doesn't hurt to have co-workers with nothing to fucking do and who send me amusing onion articles to make me giggle and not take myself too seriously while i am wearing 3" heels. (homegirl looks goood today! rowr.)

i am always preparing for the worst, hoping for the best. it's my nature. still, it is interesting to ponder, what is the worst that could happen? for me, it could be...clowns burst into my office, grab me and tickle, while wearing their stupid shit-eating perma-grin, then torture those closest to me, while i am forced to ride around and around them in circles watching on a tiny little bike. it would ruin biking for me forever.

not for nothing, but when i first saw this picture of the mel gibson, i thought it was saddam hussein. the beard makes him look a little nutsy. okay, a lot nutsy. mel, mel, mel. just because you went all catholic, and the press is like on your ass all the time because you say wacked out fundamentalist catholic things, and speak in aramaic and shit, doesn't mean you have to appease them by dressing like a drunken raving homeless lunatic. next thing you know, you'll be holding a sign that says 'lyndon larouche is right!' he's not right, mel.


no, for reals, i actually really like mel and his wacky catholic thing. i mean, i respect people who are extreme, crazy, raving and/or totally nutty. the grey pluralistic type people feel uncommitted to me. if you are going to be fundmentalist, pre-vatican II catholic, speak latin, aramaic and greek. stop shaving. do what you have to do. it's so much better than those fundy protestants who are writing articles, (i shit you not i read an article like this in university) like, jesus was a republican. and it said, 'jesus wasn't a long-haired hippie like the lefties have led you to believe. he was a capitalist and a republican with short hair.' no, actually, jesus was not politically affliated, except 'romans, go home.'

anyway, i like mel gibson's projects. the passion was amazing, in my humble, non-committed catholic opinion. this new one is in ancient mayan and it is going to be rockin' good. i can just tell. there is a fine line between genius and bat shit fucking crazy, and mel is walking the line, baby. I LOVE IT. plus, i just dig people in beards. when mel came out and announced he was doing a movie in mayan, defamer had the best comment.

Look, when you’ve got $600 million of Passion of the Christ fuck-you money, you can make a black-and-white documentary about nymphomaniac donkeys overdubbed in Klingon if you feel like it. If anything, Mel Gibson’s choice to go Mayan feels a little bit safe.

i, for one, welcome our new squirrel overlords.

ladies and gentlemen, we have a plot.

it's not like it's original or anything since, well, it's all about me me me, but what isn't really? (i assume my reputation for arrogant presumption has preceded me.)  but i mean, where else am i gonna get a plot in three days replete with character, names and locations? come on, a no-brainer, of which, incidentally, my ex-husband had to remind me. of course, i will fictionalize whatever i damn well please, because i am the author, motherfucker. so, if you are afraid to appear in my crappy, tell all, roman a clef, month-long novel, let me know, and i'll be sure to make you be the biggest fucking asshole prick in the book. i get to do what i want, bitch. no, really, i do. it's my book. gosh, novel writing and novel thinking has made me mean. well, i guess that's what genius does.

so, interestingly, i wikipedia-ed (it doesn't work as well as google to become a verb, eh?) autobiographical novel, and this entry came up. i know how fucking nerdy of me to wikipedia it, but whatever, it's my world, you are just reading about it. the interesting part was that after the definition, there is a list of famous autobiographical novels. something to note was Ballard's Crash is mentioned with this note after it: described as "an autobiographical novel in the sense that it is about my inner life, my imaginative life." two words: holy fuck. that was the sickest book i have ever read, man, and i have read some sick fucking books. i couldn't finish that shit, seriously. i mean, i did, but i was having some serious vomiting issues during parts of that. let's think happy thoughts, shall we? like, look it's blythe!

wonder twins powers, activate. Form of Useless Shit.

not for nothing, but my sister and brother-in-law are raising my nephew like it's the 70s. the dvd of spiderman, schoolhouse rocks, and my sister and my favorite cartoon ever--the superfriends. it's funny watching them again, from the bleedingly obviousness of aquaman's homosexuality to the complete uselessness of the invisible jet, it's amazing what we missed and that what we thought was cool was really worthless and totally absurd. let's take the wondertwins, por ejemplo, they turn into really gay things that are totally useless. i mean, zan can only become water related things. how fucking useless is that! how emasculating! if he becomes water, he needs a bucket and a fucking monkey to carry him, if he is ice, he can melt. jayna on the other hand can only become an animal of some kind. like an elephant or an eagle, which i will grant you can be useful if you have something with opposable thumbs as a counterbalance. i mean, her partner in crime is liquid. useless. impotent as a superhero. completely. anyway, a band called gleek would still be rockin'. or was it jayna and gleek? my sis might remember what the name of our band was. gleek and the smug hussies.

UPDATE: It was Gleek and the Bear.