Oh, heavens.

Someone asked me the other day for a book called, “The Ice Cream Man Cometh.”

Coming right up…

What’s that clip-clopping I hear? Oh, yeah…

it’s the fourth horseman of the apocalypse.

Why, oh why, does Kim Kardashian have a show? And why is she trying to convince me that she and her gazillionaire, adidas-wearing, Subway-chomping, Pepsi-swilling (and, oh yeah, football-playing) boyfriend Reggie Bush are even anywhere in the same zip code as normal? I admit to having seen half of an episode once, so I feel qualified to judge her based on that and on the quote below:

Since part of Kardashian’s job – starring on the second season of her reality show, Keeping up with the Kardashians – is being trailed by cameras, she says they’ve kept his involvement in the show to a minimum.

“I definitely think we get along because my work is so important to me right now…”

And my verdict? Using the words “job” and “work” to describe what amounts to spending your dead dad’s money and making sex tapes is pushing it. My favorite part? That you would make the sex tape, sue Vivid Video to regain ownership of (and, presumably, to suppress) it..then, in the end, drop the suit and settle for five million bucks, and allow Vivid to sell it all over the internet? Well, to quote Sir Winston Churchill, “Madam, we’ve already established what you are. Now we’re just haggling over the price.”

“

Newsless.

Well, here we are, three months gone from our last post and with no news. At all. Or, at least, none regarding the baby we don’t have yet. Though lots of other things have been going on….Lisa has quit her job (back in July) and though she is now ready for another job, we are both very happy she left the seething pit of hell where she worked before. I am still at my job, and finally getting the chance to benefit from the awesome domestic partner benefits we got a few years ago by adding Lisa to my insurance.

We were ready to try baby creation again this month, but the magical day(s) would have fallen when Lisa was in New Hampshire helping her sister, who just gave birth to her second daughter. Soooo….we wait and plan to try again at the end of September/first of October. We just need to have a freakin’ kid and get it over with, really.

Oh, and I put a shed together this weekend, so I pretty much rock.

How DID they do it?

Just watching Hitchcock’s Shadow of a Doubt, and good old Uncle Charlie jumped on a payphone and sent a wire or telegram to his family in California. Now, given that Charlie was on that payphone, how on earth did he pay for that telegram? He couldn’t have billed it to his home phone (or could he?), and likely no credit card either. Did the receiver pay for it? That seems patently unfair, really. You could bankrupt someone by simply sending a note to say “hi” a few too many times.

I’m not meme-immune.

Jeff memed and said, consider yourself tagged if you want to be. I love nothing more than (a) being random, and (b) talking about myself, and heaven knows I have nothing worthwhile to write otherwise, so I’m taking up the meme banner. Here, then, are eight random things about me:

1. I smell my deodorant. Every. Day. Before I put it on, that is. Why? I have no idea. I know what it smells like, and I keep buying the same kind over and over (Adidas aluminum-free sport something-or-other). It smells like vaguely nothing, yet I keep smelling it. Even when I think about it prior to application, whilst brushing my teeth for example, and say “I’m not going to smell it today,” I still do. Of course, I smell most things, particularly if they’ll be going in my mouth. (Hmmm…..) OCD, anyone?

2. I knew I didn’t want to be a journalist not too long after I began j-school, actually. I had applied and been accepted into the advertising sequence (the hardest to get into, lord knows why) and then switched to magazine editing and design. One semester on the newspaper, and being forced to talk to strangers about things I had little interest in, told me this was not the thing. However, if I changed majors it was more time in school and my parents might have expected me to move to Ohio, where my mother had relocated with my siblings. I didn’t want to move, and I knew if I was in the World’s Oldest Journalism School, they wouldn’t ask me to go to just any old j-school. Besides, who the hell USES the degree anyway? Lots of people? Oh. My bad.

3. I can detect Jay McInerney’s smug self-infatuation 2 sentences into any previously unattributed paragraph. I hate him. Though in a nod to Bright Lights, Big City, I do still like to think of cocaine as Bolivian Marching Powder. And I think of cocaine so often.

4. I love the Golden Girls. Not like…love. In fact, that’s not a random thing about me. To be honest, it is at the core of my being.

5. On two road trips with my sister, we have invented imaginary traveling companions and constructed elaborate backstories for them. The first was the captain of the S.S. Peach, a small green boat we got in a Happy Meal on a family trip to Florida and the Bahamas, and the more recent was Hertzie, the slightly condescending voice of the Hertz Never Lost system we found in our rental car as we tooled up the coast from San Francisco to Seattle. I preferred Peachie, to be honest.

6. I love to watch the following infomercials:

• the one where the hungover alleged houseguests watch the hosts make all manner of gross things in some sort of bullet-shaped blendery thing
• the one where the lady (don’t know her name, but she reminds me of the neighbor lady from The Hogan Family TV show, formerly known as Valerie’s Family)…ok, anyway, she makes those gross little sandwich pockets in the little clam grill, you know, last night’s leftovers become an awesome dinner for 2!
• and the lady on QVC or HSN or whatever who has the appliqued sweatshirts in 3x and wears a spangly headband. Quacker Factory! Not technically an infomercial, but still…

7. I hate going to bed. Truly. I always feel like I’m missing something. All I’m missing are those damned infomercials.

8. When I saw Lisa for the first time, I thought she was hot. I was straight at the time, or so I thought, but it was a Women’s Studies class. When I met her, she was very sullen. When we became friends, she was dating someone I knew. And was friends with. When I fell in love with her, I planned never to tell her. When we got together, I knew it would never last more than a few months. When we celebrate our 15th anniversary this fall, it will amaze me that time can go by so quickly.

Are you as creeped out as I am?

No, not about that. About the new Orville Redenbacher ads, in which a digital and/or animatronic Orville appears pitching popcorn and rattling on about MP3 players, for some reason? Even the (presumably) real actors surrounding him in the spot seem puzzled and a bit afraid. His lipsynching is not matched up to the audio, which frankly doesn’t sound like dearly departed Orville, anyway. ConAgra Foods says the family is happy about it. Um, ok. I’d be beyond disturbed if you did that to my late grandfather. Ewww. Dead people, no matter how folksy and appealing they were in life, should be brought back in death to resemble the world’s scariest Muppet. Jerry phrased it best: “You can enjoy my popcorn, while I enjoy your brains.”

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