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Archive for August, 2009

If you’re here because of the pliers remark, this entry will seem anticlimactic for sure.

I have a post stirring about women and relationships and false expectations and public facades. It is provocative and hopefully insightful and also probably a little bit righteously fucking indignant. It’s been, what, like two years since I did some hearty righteous indignance, yeah? You lot always gobble that down without chewing, rabid reader-wolves!

I also get to admit that I am going to chaw on some of my words –grown hard and maybe pretty salty– for those of you that dig seeing me do such a thing.

Before I can get to that particular piece of writing, though, I have to craft an entry addressing how ‘Weeds’ didn’t just jump the shark this past episode, it jumped a whole school of them laid side-by-side and stacked ten high. And also I get to remark on how I felt that moment palpably and nearly wept with the negative force of it. How I immediately wanted to declare fatwa or some shit on Jenji Kohan, who is in charge of steering that ship. But I can’t write about that, either, until I get to other topics!

Those I will approach here, with this post in which you are even now immersed, are the Other Matters that stand in the way of my expounding on the sharkjumping scene and –beyond that– me waxing all rhapsodically angry and poetically just.

Jesus, do I sound all Cult Leadery, or what? Awesome.

There are two issues at hand: A list of famous people I could totally see myself being besties with and the information I promised eons ago about what I call ‘The Lexapros And Cons Of Being Medicated One Week Per Month’. I will, this late eve, address the former and then by the time the weekend is up I will chuck my wordsmithy endeavors toward the latter. Probably.

So here we go:

A List Of Famous People I Could Totally See Myself Being Besties With

+ Kathy Griffin


+ Tim Gunn

(best friend of everydamnwoman, bless him)

+ Jenna Elfman


+ Jenny, Bloggess

(more famous than me. and also you. SO SHE FULLY COUNTS)

+ Will Ferrell

(who, I’m convinced, has secret pain. I have an equally weighty secret desire to fix him. we will be tackily and delightedly co-dependent)

+ Zooey Deschanel

(but not at mealtimes because that bitch is, apparently, an extremely picky eater)

+ Drew Barrymore

(say it with me: “drewwwwwww.” we are all in love with her and you know it)

+ Shaquille O’ Neal

(I have certain non-celebrity friends* with whom conversation consists solely of varying degrees of laughter, from delighted snicker all the way up to full-on Smedley; I imagine a friendship with Shaq to be exactly that way. oh, for ham and hell, the man says things like, “VERY QUOTATIOUS, I PERFORM RANDOM ACTS OF SHAQNESS”; how could we for one minute keep straight faces at one another?)

+ Maynard James Keenan

(but he would only be able to communicate with me by singing and I would respond with a complex series of winks that only he and I understood. he owns a winery now, did you know? total besssst friend quality right there)

+ Niecy Nash

(because she’s all confident and sassy and hilarious and you know deep down in your heart that bitch will cut a fucker if crossed. she is also in no way inclined to entertain another person’s foolishness; in short, my platonic fantasy woman!)

A List Of Famous People I Could Totally See Myself Being Besties With, PROBATIONARY DESIGNEES

+ Juliette Lewis

(probationary basis ‘cos I suspect there is some Mallory –NOT THE ‘FAMILY TIES’ ONE– to her, for real)

+ Uma Thurman

(probationary basis solely for the fact that I can’t quite get a bead on her, but she oozes the sort of woman-coolness that typically hallmarks the best female relationships in my life)

+ Cate Blanchett

(only probationary because she is likely the one actor that could make me fidgety in that ‘OMG. So talented. Not worthy. GUSHGUSH. Personal embarassment.’ fangirly way.)

+ Zakk Wylde

(just being shallowly honest here, he’s tagged ‘probationary’ because he looks as if he employs questionable hygiene practices. and hey, I’ve received inside information that he sort of lives up to that impression. I’m not one to prejudge a guy, though, and am prone to making my own calls on people regardless of the input of others. for the record, this whole hygiene thing is a personal standard which makes me feel guilty because I’m sure there are a passel of homeless people that I could totally get down with conversationally but with whom I will not be able to do so because of my stand with regard to the bodily stench. /painful and clunky run-on sentence)

That about wraps it up, Muffinasses. Now you go.

*I know this stuns you, reader

|| August 3, 2009 || 4:45 pm || Comments (4) ||

like a permission slip

Lying in bed last night, Maxim said to me, “If your boobs had their own zip code, it would be nine-oh-two-one-WHOA.

“And you can blog that.”

There was a very brilliant conversational lead-in to that one line, but when he actually gave me permission to blog an exchange between us it all flew out of my brain, fleet-footed and fickle.