Funny to Me

I just wanted to remind y'all about Bill O'Reilly's sexual harrassment problem, in case anyone has forgotten, plus, I didn't have this blog back then. Also Lori Mocha and I were just talking about it and I told her I was gonna blog about it, so here I go. A girl of my word.

So, remember when Bill O'Reilly said he wanted to touch that girl with a felafel?
He was regaling his then-assistant with a fantasy shower scene when he said it. He proposed to wash her in an outdoor shower in the Carribbean with one.

He may have meant loofah, since which he'd made reference to one earlier in the conversation.
(http://www.thesmokinggun.com/archive/1013043mackris16.html)

But what if he did want to touch her with a felafel? I like to think he did. He has secret yearnings to fondle women with Middle Eastern foods, I know it. Foods he thinks of as sinister and semitic. Soo taboo-breaky!

Even if this is only funny to me, it's still...funny to me.

Also this:
it occurred to me in recent conversation that I would like to have five boyfriends. I think five is a good number. I could handle it. I want one of them to be Ludacris, and another one to be a cowboy astronaut from Cuba. The other three are MY BUSINESS.

What would you like to touch Bill O'Reilly with, Barbara?
And how many boyfriends do you want?

New Studies Show Increase in Monsters Hurts Feet, Head

I am unheased by the proliferation of small monsters on television advertising for prescription medications.
Unheased, you ask?
It's a verb I got from that Kim Carnes' song, Bette Davis Eyes. I think it means, well, something like "to make uneasy."


She'll unhease you!
Something something!
All the better just to please you!
She's precocious!
And she knows just
what it takes to...something gross-us!

Unhease. You've heard it. But I digress.

The growing prevalence of smallish, often horned, gaudily-colored monsters to denote various health problems unheases me. Remember when we were kids, and television commecials for medications actually indicated those medications' effect on the body? Why is this less in evidence now? It seems like the logical way to go. The glowing red discomfort of a TRON-like blueprint of tortured feet would go cool and blue with the application of a little graphic of a swirling foot-cream tube. Some visual metaphors were less literal. Remember Contac? From what I remember, the tiny multicolored beads of medication would escape the large capsule and fill one's nasal passages, thereby allowing for the passage of arrows. Contac was beautiful.

Not so the Lamisil feet monsters or the migraine-ad migraine monsters. They're gross, and of course are meant to be. We're meant to want to take anything that will vanquish or repel bodily monsters. Americans are a race of primitives, they seem to believe. It's advertising hoo-doo! The complexities of cartoon pharmacology elude us, I guess. The ad hacks of my imagination explain it thusly:

"Listen here, Snively, America doesn't understand your fancy-pants, college boy anatomical science. They don't know what a bronchial dilator does. They can't identify an ear. What we need to focus on in these network spots is our lozenges' abillity to repel fictional creatures. What we gotta show 'em is CRITTERS!Podiatric trolls, demons of the lung, gremlins swarming the colon. All computer-generated, too. Trendy monsters. That's our angle! 'Cause God knows the side-effect profile of this crap isn't helping us."

Maybe it's the flu!

I'm sick. I know this isn't just a figment of my imagination. It started with a stuffy nose and a tickly-scratchy throat yesterday afternoon, and has progressed to mysterious body pains and vertigo hallucinations every time I move, and more mucus in my head than is attractive or called for. It's also brought on some moaning. I've been drinking fluids and sucking on C-and-zinc lozenges and watching Coal Miner's Daughter but nothing can stop the flu.

If I've got to feel this way, I'd better have contracted something famous. The flu is the A-list celebrity of late-winter, shitty-feeling viruses. I'd feel like an ass if this turned out to be whatever isn't the flu.

The summer before last, I didn't get West Nile. I was so disappointed. I did have something, but it was some lame-ass guest-star "Eastern viral encephalitis" crap. That just sounds disgusting, as though I'd been up to something gross. West Nile Virus was clearly the superior, zeitgeisty pathogen.

So, in closing, this had better be the flu. Or I'm going to be really put out. Oh, not at you, Barbara. Not at anyone in particular. Just at God.

I Have Been So Damn Busy

Please pardon my lack of posting these last three weeks...I was going great guns there for a while, too. It's just that I've been SO BUSY since the baby was born. Whew! I mean, I've never seen the baby--he lives in San Antonio with my sister, who is his mom. But newborns are so exhausting! All staying up all night screaming and whatnot, with their creepy little soft heads. Imagining this makes it hard to write.

Another reason is that I have been proccupied with my beauty routines.
I do this scam where I go to Kiehl's and buy like a $7 bar of soap and then ask for sample sizes of more expensive Kiehl's products, plus everything I know the actual name of, plus "something to detangle hair." Trying out all this stuff is a not inconsiderable challenge! Speaking of which, the Abyssine Eye Creme is EXCELLENT. It's made me realize that what I really need is an eye job. I RENOUNCE MY ANTI-COSMETIC SURGERY THING! I WANT AN EYE JOB!! And a bigger penis.

Lent, also, has distracted me. I have been fasting and atoning for my sins, except when I go out. I haven't been going out all that much, though. Some people go out all the time, and never atone or write.
They are called artstars.
KIDDING!!

Reality shows starring English nannies have also diverted my attention from my blog, which is weird. What's with me? I'm not a nanny. Nor do I have children. Who am I identifying with in these nanny shows? I think it must be the children. I must harbor a secret desire for a strict but benevolent British woman to arrive seemingly out of nowhere, get down to my level, look me in the eye, and tell me to USE MY WUUUUHDS.

By the way, Barbara (that's what I call you, my readers, collectively: "Barbara.") are those English nanny shows broadcast in the UK too? Like the same exact shows? And if they are, I bet they just call it "Americans Are 'Orrible."

At the Doctor's Office

There were some senior citizens in the waiting room of my doctor's office this morning.


Edited to add: OK, so, I saved the above sentence back in early March.I noticed it again today, and read it, and thought, one sentence? Why on earth did I save this sentence as a draft?

I mean, what did I have to say about these senior citizens?
I feel bad just leaving it at "there were some." It's true that there were a shitload in the office that day, as I remember. And by "shitload," I mean four. The official mount of old people that it takes to constitude a shitload, Barbara: Four.

So the shitload in this case: a ninety-something Jamaican lady in a wheelchair, the wheelchair lady's sixty-fivish-year-old nurse, the wheelchair lady's seventyish daughter, and a seventysomething Jewish dude who was trying hard to get with the wheelchair lady's daughter. He was persistent as hell, kept chatting her up way past the point where I was trying to ESP him thusly: stop, dude, just stop. Please stop before the inevitable point where she has to get hostile, 'cause man, that point is gonna be sad. And surely it's coming, because I'm already past it.

**But!**

He not only did he not alienate his chosen lady, he got her to sing a chorus of "When You're Smiling" with him. Holy shit, success---for old people, that's like making out in front of a bar!

See, this is why I don't score more elderly black chicks.

Elderly black chicks whose moms keep rapping on the armrests of their wheelchairs and saying "I WANT TO GO HOME" thereby incurring being placated with those Danish butter cookies.

I'm just not persistent enough.