I think my dishwasher is too violent. Sometimes when I unload the dishwasher, I find chips in a few of the bowls. It may be the way I tetris the dishes together that makes it seem like there’s some brutal MMA fight going on, sponsored by Frigidaire.
And speaking of MMA, I know many people who love the sport and I know this is going to sound so Pollyanna of me, but I can’t watch it. I remember seeing a fight with Kimbo Slice where he popped the other guy’s eardrum and then SMELLED his glove. I know he was playing to the theatrics of it, but it’s really hard for me to watch anything that makes me nervous. That’s why I love CBS Sunday Morning. Nothing bad happens when Charles Osgood’s around!
I also loathe watching stupid conflicts like THE LAST SEASON OF 24. This is the first seasons I’ve watched and in this span of time feature Jack Bauer breaking up an attack by an African Junta leader on the president. Then he saves the president’s life THAT DAY, goes undercover and disarms the enemies, he finds out there actually is a cure for the biodiesase he contracted, and his daughter is perfect match for the antidote. HOORAY!
And this is not counting all the inane subplots that should be categorized Mona Hates Watching Because It’s About The President’s Daughter And/Or Husband AGAIN! And how many people do you think actually believe Sangala a real country? Also, Jack pretended to kill Renee but the bullet only grazed her neck and yet she had no hearing problems afterward? What is this? A TV SHOW?!
I was telling my friend Matt (heeyyyy!) that I would hate to be famous and followed by paparazzi and see my horrible pictures making the gossip blog rounds. They are unfiltered and I would definitely give them a lot of material, like tmz taping my clumsy and comical workout on the wii and how I yell at the game’s trainer, “You’re right! I am making this look easy!”
I’m really lucky to know some very funny people but when I think about how funny and brilliant they are, I wonder, why are you even talking to me? My IQ is so small, that when I was in high school, I pronounced Hippocrates as two names: HIPPO CRATES. It kind of reminds me of a friend’s story: when she was in college, her friend would always lead the prayer group with, “Dear J.C….” Also, her friend would set up the mood by playing the Waiting to Exhale soundtrack in the background, a fine choice for prayer music. So there she was, holding hands with her other friends, praying and wondering, “WHO IS J.C.?”
It was hot last week, which is a weird thing for me to say since my tropical island self is yelling, “CITY GIRL YOU DON’T KNOW FROM HOT!” It did allow me to wear my favorite J. Crew dress to work and to buy a new hat. What do you think?