Not that my previous post doesn't stand -- Eliot Spitzer, I thought I knew ye, and the ye that I thought I knew was not about prostitution (although, OMG, thanks for spending your prostitution dollar in Berrrrgen County) -- but I am just saying.
Oh my GOD, I hate Daylight Savings Time. Whose shitty fucking idea was this anyway?
I seem to remember a time when I just drank my way through these time changes, and the effect was pretty light because a hangover's a hangover. But now that I am an old lady, the whole thing just fucks me so hard. I have no idea what time it is, I feel like the clock's been fast-forwarded, like, 5 hours, not just one. I feel like death.
My face and brain hurt too much from sleep deprivation to make remarks on Eliot Spitzer, but please know that I am generally irritated and repulsed.
I know it's not really the point of the news stories, but is anyone else totally gobsmacked that they have an Army recruiting center in Times Square? All I can think about is, how much is the rent in that fucking place?
(Also, are people in the habit of being all, "Oh, I am totes going with you to go buy a brass figurine of the Statue of Liberty, but hold on a sec, I have to go join the Army.")
I know it's been a while. I have to say, I really thought I had gotten over the idea of buying q-tips and Luna bars on the internets when there are a whole slew of stores -- I think they might be called supermarkets? -- that sell those things, and apparently these "supermarkets" are all over the place. Lucky for you, Drugstore.com, I have developed a mild agoraphobia intensified by the competitive parking practiced by New Jerseyians in crowded shopping venues. (And by "crowded shopping venues," I basically mean all of New Jersey.)
Anyway, since it has been so very long since I felt like going to the grocery store/drugstore/Target was an insurmountable obstacle, I have to say, I was surprised to see that apparently? Your website has gone back in time! To 1999! Wow, yeah, those were good times, Drugstore.com, Clinton era and budget surpluses and peace and prosperity and all that...
But seriously, I had to reload my cart (which was full of completely unnecessary things because obviously I cannot mail order a box of q-tips, old lady face cream and a box of Luna bars...I also need fancy lotions and some makeup!), like, 4 times. And you wanted to ship it to me in Massachusetts, even though I kept telling you, I left that hellhole 2 years ago!
Drugstore.com, don't get me wrong, I am super-excited to get my L'Occitane orange-smelly lotion and be able to use q-tips again (is there any use for q-tips that is not vaguely gross?), but I am a little worried this might be the end of the road for us! Think about it -- maybe couples counseling is the answer?
I cannot tell you how delighted I am that someon has found their way to Pinktalk by googling "goddamn bats." No fucking shit, right? Now that one I understand, way more than the occasional "Mary Kate Olsen gaucho pants" search I used to get.
In other things I cannot even begin to fucking tell you news: please permit me to advise you that I have been so itchy the past 24 hours that I have pondered causes as diverse as measles, fleas, allergies, leperosy...but really, I guess it's just dry skin to the xxx-treme. I woke Mr. P. up last night with my scratching, he thought my arms would be bleeding like mad because of the intensity with which I was sleep-scratching...and I do have long nails, but I awoke unscarred. Seriously, I feel like I am losing my mind. Someone tried to engage me as I was leaving work and the itchiness was so bad, I finally just blurted out, "I am really sorry, but I have to go home and scratch."
Now I will give you an outdated link -- you're welcome! It's the Kanye vs Balenciaga story that has been high comedy for some time now, but obviously I have been too busy scratching myself to post it earlier. I like the kinda happy ending here. Let's all hug!
True story: just got an email from Mr. P. asking me to remind him to bring to work a photo he found of Dudley Moore, circa maybe 1974, in a book at the Cornell library. Because, duh, he totally needs it to do his job! Oh, these creative types.
Fun game made up at brunch this weekend: guess which one of your friends would be The Disease Vector!
Which brings me to this great story from the LA Times about snowflakes containing a beautiful core...of BACTERIA!
Other good read: the NYerMichelle Obama profile! I think I need to re-subscribe to the NYer, except that if I did, I would not read books because getting through it is, like, a total full-time job and very quickly descends into piles of magazines everywhere and then if I am killed in a car accident and they come to clean out my stuff, it will look like I have hoarding disease and everyone will stand around, shaking their heads sadly. You know? This is what's holding me back!