Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Flipping around the cable-sphere I stopped on the new Oprah channel called, OWN, as in, " I, Oprah, OWN the air you breathe. " On my TV was a two and half hour epic devoted to a day in the life of the world's greatest singer, Celine! Dion. I discovered that Celine!days are actually two weeks in length instead of the more vulgar 24 hours apportioned to the rest of us. So on this particular "day" she spent the morning riding in a golf cart touring three of her eight indoor PGA golf courses with her husband/manager, René Angélil and their combined DNA, René-Charles. For lunch they went to Africa where they were met on the tarmac by a frail Nelson Mandela and the Soweto Blind Children's Chorus. After handily winning a VH1-style Diva sing off against ALL the children and Mandella, she was off to safari. On safari, only specially selected albino animals encrusted with genuine Swarovski crystal were allowed to prowl within the sight line of la famille du Angélil. Early evening found her dancing like a scarecrow and displaying her trademark vocal pyrotechnics in Abu Dhabi, Brussels and Papau New Guinea. There was only time for the shortest of visits to the Vatican to have René-Charles hair trimmed.
I will never know if they they sleep on piles of cotton balls picked daily by children of the world's remaining royalty because Dr. Robot walked in and changed the channel (with out asking) to a show about Bigfoot sightings and spent the next 28 minutes yelling at the TV. Believe me, I am as disappointed as you..
Saturday, February 5, 2011
My husband, J. Maximus Robot, is a scientist/adventurer. Shortly, he will be leaving for several weeks to go to a jungle in Central America. He has a relationship with the government of the moment so he will have the added benefit of being accompanied by armed security. I know what your thinking, "Are you going too?" Regretfully, no. Robot doesn't blink at wading chest deep in water, hacking vines with a machete or exchanging gun fire with narco-traffickers in the jungle. I do not know why he likes these things, they make me terribly nervous, but I would never dream of stopping him. I enjoy quaint hotels that offer a variety of good jelly at breakfast. He enjoys being damp without end and eating whatever can be caught, cooked and eaten on a tortilla.
While he is gone there is the problem of feeding his fish and other crawlies. I will throw some flake food in a tank but I am not tearing the legs off of crickets or feeding any thing thawed sea monkeys. So now he is trying to find minders for His children. I have enough to worry about including our dog - I love her but she has a very high need for attention - and the cat that he has allowed to become a half & half fiend. It's 'bout to kick off, y'all - hold on to your wigs.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Winter is hard. That is why I did a preemptive post about it in August. I warned you, I prepared you. I am using Lamaze breathing to avoid breaking down nervously and becoming hysterical. Winter, like alcohol, is not inherently bad - it just encourages me to be more of what I should not be. Winter lends legitimacy to my most phobic behavior by providing me cover for a few months. I spend hundreds of hours retreating to the far corner of my couch, watching movies and making up songs about and for my dog. So now you know why I have not been posting - obviously I am very, very busy.