Tuesday, July 29, 2008

Titskas and TV on Tuesday?

Shalom Loverdeedo's. What a fucking Tuesday. Did Mercury bypass retrograde and nosedive? Geez Louise.

This morning, a broad was stabbed to death in the parking structure of a building in Century City. This wasn't one of those meant-to-mug-you-mini-stab-and-runs, either. It was the real deal. Some asshole repeatedly and violently stabbed a woman in the neck. What kills me (so dramatic, Katie) is that there were people at the scene during 'said' incident and did nothing. It reminds me of the below video I saw on YouTube of a woman who keeled over and onto the floor of a waiting room in a fucking hospital and died. People sat by and watched for 45 minutes and did nothing.

Are we too afraid to get involved? Have we stopped caring about jumping in and preserving another life? What happened? It seems to me that things have radically changed over the past few years. I worry about the direction we're heading in. These two situations aren't isolated, I've read about many others. Do I need to add this to my "Worry To Do List"?!



There was also an earthquake in LA today, 5.6. I was standing in the LR minding my own business when the telly and my titties started to shake, as did the walls and windows. I am a novice in the e-quake department. Sure, in a crisis, I'm your go-to-gal, but not in an earthquake. I had a full scale panic attack and screamed "I will not die without a fucking bra on. God dammit. I refuse to peel out with my titskas doing the swing!"

I have this thing: I cannot die without my bra on or my shoes off. I just can't. That's my deal with God. We have a plan and I expect him to stick to it, otherwise, we're breaking up. Not to be cunty, ultimatumey or anything...

I'm happy to report that my bronchitis is clearing up beautifully. On Thursday, I have a date with FranIAm for cawfee. I'm so looking forward to that. More evidence that I'm not a 90-year-old yenta, CP.

Blogging While Semi-Insomniacking

I am listening to the Goodbye Girl on the pod. One of my favorite songs from one of my favorite movies. The kid and Richard Dreyfus do it for me in that flickundra, not Marsha Mason.


Should I write a puzzle? I didn't fall asleep until midnight and when I popped up at 2ish, I was in the middle of a nightmare about being trapped in a crossword puzzle.

I really love being continent. When my grandmother had a prolapsed uterus, she became incontinent. Worrying about my uterus becoming an accessory is now in the top 25 on my "Worry To Do List".

Have you seen the movie Superbad? That was a continent killer... Get it? "I laughed so hard, I peed."

If Ellen Arkin married Adam Barkin and they spawned a fruit named Harkin, the kid's name would be Harkin Arkin Barkin. I can see it. The name screams rehab ready. He's almost three quarters of the way with the acronym HAB.
I started reading one of Wade Agnew's poetry books "Solace For A Starving Naked Alone Soul". So far, I'm really into it. He is wicked dark, yo. After I finish, I'll spill awwwl the dish.

Do you watch Mad Men? The second season just started. This season looks to be dishy-fab. I fucking love that show, so brilliant.

I think I wish I could fall back to sleep, though I don't think it's in the cards.

I have to FedEx my pops something. I was supposed to send it Saturday. I suck ass. Bad daughter, bad, bad, bad. Okay, Katie, let's really beat the shit out of ourselves, very productive. Wait, that was supposed to be inner-dialogue. That reminds me of a story my sister told me about the time she had dinner with a friend from school, one of those "first-time-friend-dates". She crossed that inner/outer dialogue boundary by punching herself in the leg three times while disclosing her inability to maintain a relationship. And she wonders why she can't catch a fellah?! Oy.

Do you remember double belts? I saw one the other day in red. The broad wearing it was also sporting shoulder pads. Really? Really.

 

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