The weeks of nothing interesting at all happening continue.  I’m
sorry!  I’ll run from the police again!  I’ll watch a scary movie and
freak myself out!  I’ll buy another dog!  
I’m soooorrryy!

Actually, no.  I will do none of those things. (On purpose.)  But
what I
will do is continue writing entries about how very precious
little is happening in my world.  How little, you ask?  This little.  Let
me provide you with an in-depth summary of the things I have
been doing.  This should take about sixteen seconds.  

Let me also warn you in advance that this entry is not like my
usual essays.  There is no discernable point or theme.  (I like to
think I usually have discernable points or themes.)  But the only
thing the following paragraphs have in common is that they are
close to each other.  

Well.   And they
are sort of chronological.

Anyway.  You’ve been warned.

Friday night: I stayed home.  Drank most of a bottle of wine by
myself.  Talked on the phone with many, many people, including
the darling El Dukay, and everyone was enjoying getting drunk
somewhere outside of their own homes and with people other
than their own selves.  Unlike
myself.  Sad.

[The reason I stayed in, I would like to point out, is that (1) I was
tired and had a very long week of work-type things, (2) everyone I
know, including El Dukay, was either out of town or working, and
(3) I had big, huge plans for Saturday.  Huge!  Exciting!  
Supersized!  So I was resting.  You understand.  Shut up.]

Anyway.  So that was Friday night.  On Friday night, I also started
keeping a list of brilliant ideas I have had.  Let’s be clear about
this list.  This is a list of ideas that are, to me, brilliant.  And that I
came up with.  Except the ones I stole from other people.  
Anyway, there are just so many brilliant ideas out there that, in
my semi-drunk state, I felt the need to catalogue them.  So, here
are the Friday night entries to the Brilliant Ideas List:

BRILLIANT IDEAS.

1.        I will create a sitcom about the hijinks that ensue in
an organ donation program.  And I will call it “My Heart Will
Go On!"  Isn’t that
awesome?  Celine Dion could be a
special guest! Because she certainly is special, and also, I
do not think she has all of the same organs she started out
with, so it is apt.

2.        I think that when someone says to you, “You know
who,” and it is rhetorical because you
do know who, you
should always, always say, “No!  Who?  Greg from
Dharma
and Greg
?"

I have said this several times already.  And it always cracks me
up.  Other people...maybe do not find this so funny.  But I don’t
care.  
Brilliant.

Unfortunately, these were the only brilliant ideas I came up with
on Friday.  But don’t worry.  I was just getting warmed up.

On Saturday, I painted a wall.  And a door.  Which is fucking
harder than it sounds, people, to paint only one wall when there
are
four walls in the room and the wall you are painting is a
different color from the other walls.  In this instance, you are
required to paint a straight line.  

It is hard to paint a straight line.  Especially when you are trying to
do this with a paint roller.  Hard.

Saturday night, El Dukay made hamburgers and we went to my
house to watch movies.  (So what if these are the big, supersized
plans I was talking about earlier?  Shut up.)  I bought Season
One of the Chapelle show, and y’all!  This is a wise investment.  It
will provide you with very, very much entertainment.  One time I
saw Dave Chapelle live.  That is just how cool I am.  Did I mention
that I am a little bit in love with him? (Confidential to El Dukay: No,
I’m not.)(Confidential to everyone else: Yes, I so, so am.)

So we watched that, in my new house, on my new sofa, on my
new television that does not yet have cable because in order to
have cable, someone has to come and “runnawire unner the
house.”  (At least that’s what the cable company told me.  What
do you think it means?)  And we drank
more wine, and around
two a.m., I came up with another brilliant idea, although this one
was more of a brilliant observation:

3.        I should start a website that does nothing but point
out how fucking ridiculous many, many song lyrics are,
because somehow, when you are in high school, the
absurdity of some lyrics is lost on you.  

Now, don't be ashamed, because this happens to everyone,
including my damn self.  You just sing along to whatever’s on the
radio, la la la.  And you don’t really pay attention to what words
you just sang along with, and I think this can do lasting damage.  
An example of this from my own youth would be “Lightning
Crashes,” by Live.  Y’all! Consider this line:

“Her placenta falls...to the floor.”

"Her placenta falls...to the floor" should not be a lyric ever, ever
sung by an eighteen-year old boy.  And I certainly should not be
singing about falling placentas.  Maybe nobody should
ever be
singing about falling placentas.  That sort of  thing will scar you!  
(Confidential to Live fans: I’m totally kidding.  I love Live.  Please
do not email me.)(Confidential to everyone else: I am
not kidding.
Placenta?  In a pop song? Who wrote that?)

And then we went to bed.  You get no details!

The next day was Sunday, and that day, I became very proud of
myself because I, alone, put together a bar.  A whole bar!  With a
wine rack and a hangy thing for glasses and a mirrored back.  If
you saw it, you would totally say, “Oooh.  That’s a nice bar.  Did
you put that together yourself?”  And I would say, “Yes.”  And
then you would say, “And did you have to use a hammer, and
nails, and a screwdriver one time?”  And I would say, “Yes.”  And
then you would say, “You may be the perfect woman.  May I give
you a box of money, and also, will you marry me?”  And I would
say, “I will take the money.”

And then I did something even more impressive than that,
namely, I put all new knobs on my kitchen cabinets.  I put knobs
where there were not even
holes.  I had to make new holes with a
drill!  And I had to do all this while balanced on the kitchen
counter.  And wearing stiletto boots. Because even when I am
working on home improvement projects, I am wearing stiletto
boots.  Possibly because I am really stupid.

When I finished, I called all kinds of people and demanded that
they hie themselves immediately to my house to gaze in wonder
at the knobs and the bar and the wall. I am such a huge dork.  
But I did come up with a brilliant idea, too.  Even though I stole it
from my sister’s boyfriend devin, who is fucking funny.

4.        If you use instant messenger, on Thursdays, your
away message should always read, “Thursday I don’t care
about you.”  I’m sorry, people.  That is just awesome.  And
brilliant.

On Sunday night, El Dukay, my mother, my father, and my 87
year-old grandmother who has an intense, Depends-sponsored
crush on my boyfriend all went to dinner.  (She calls him her little
friend.  She does.)  And that is where I came up with yet another
brilliant idea:

5.        All Italian restaurants should have liquor licenses.  
What kind of Italian restaurant doesn’t have a liquor
license?  Am I in hell?

Then last night, we watched Lost In Translation, and these
brilliant ideas were added to the list:

6.        I fucking need to buy some sheer, nude colored
panties and lounge around in them in expensive hotel
rooms for every day of my life from now on.  I can be
alienated in Tokyo, too!  Please!  

7.        I want lip implants.

That’s when I realized that I had veered away from “Brilliant Ideas”
and into “Christmas List” territory.  So I brought it back, with:

8.        The microwave was a fucking good idea.

And, about an hour later:

9.        So was wine!

And then, this morning, this one just came to me out of nowhere:

10.        People on reality television shows should be
required to carry guns.  Loaded ones.  This would make all
elimination rounds much more interesting.  Imagine if they
had guns on the Bachelor! (“What?  NO ROSE?  After I
listened to you singing fucking JOURNEY songs in your
damned MAN PAJAMAS? Oh, that is RICH!  Kiss STEEL,
Bachelor Bob!”  Then, BLAM BLAM BLAM!!!)

See?  Brilliant.  

So, stay tuned. Maybe nothing interesting will ever happen to me
again, but I guaran-damn-tee that these Brilliant Ideas of mine will
keep popping into my head.  Either that, or sometime in the next
week, I will fall down and hurt myself, but not so badly as to
require hospitalization, and in a manner that is entertaining to all.  
So we're pretty much covered.  It's such a great plan, it's almost...
sing it with me...
brilliant!

Brilliant Ideas

Home

About

Old Dogs

New Tricks

Speak!

Do you know what kudzu is?  It is a very fast growing weed.  It is
dangerous.  It eats children.  And chairs!

Special love box!

The following people are the
coolest.  For varying reasons.

My
AB don't mess around,
because she loves me so, and
this I know fo sho.

Coleen knows what's cooler than
cool--ICE COLD!

Allison don't want to meet your
DADdy.

Hannah Beth just wants you in
her CADdy.

Amy don't want to meet your
MOMma.

And Miss
Sarah B. is shaking it
like a polaroid picture RIGHT
NOW.

Sign up for my Notify List and get email when I update!

email:
powered by
NotifyList.com

Y'all!  Don't you want to join my shiny
new Notify?  Why not?  Is it because
you like making me cry?

Happy (very late)
birthday to George,
aka PogoGC!  Break a
leg* at your recital
this week!


*Obviously not in a literal
sense.  I am told that broken
legs hurt.  They hurt even
worse that boils. Ouch!

Previous

Next

Well.  Sort of brilliant.  Better than
writing about paint drying.

Old Dogs