thursday, the twenty-fourth of may, two thousand one
Reading: The glut of posts at
MBTV
about the X-F season finale.
My favorite so far: David Duchovny,
go away already. We get it. You're unhappy
doing the show, but remember buddy, you
used to host THE RED SHOE DIARIES (hello
my name is Jake and I read soft porn letters
to my dog), so take the hand that feeds
you (FOX) out of your mouth and say "thank
you." There's also some good shipper vs.
noromo debate going on about the last scene.
Glossary: "shipper" [n., deriv. relationshipper]:
someone who feels Mulder and Scully are destined to ride off into
the sunset, hand in hand, or hand in hand with their kid in the
middle. "noromo" [n., deriv. no romance]:
someone who feels that the relationship should stay
platonic and thus has no patience for mooshy ooey gooey
love stuff. (For clarification, I am not a noromo, but a
disillusioned shipper who is bitter because
we didn't get to see any of the ooey gooey, and I don't mean
just the hot monkey love, I'm talking
about anything that gave anyone any clue that there
even was hot monkey love going on offscreen.)
Wondering: Pirate's Booty. What is this stuff,
anyway? Why is everyone talking about it?
Attending: The baseball game last night. We had
great corporate seats and ate hot dogs and peanuts and
drooled over the funnel cakes (funnel cakes!) but they
were five bucks, so we passed. And it was
unseasonably chilly, which everyone else was bitching
about, but I thought it was great.
I saw the most ridiculous story in the world on the Today show this
week, and I'm serious.
I was only watching the Today show because my friend Tara, the one
who makes me look like a financial genius, came to my apartment at
6:30 in the morning to take a shower because they shut off her water.
She was ready to go by 7:15, but didn't need to be at work until 8:00,
and since she works practically around the corner from where I live, we
sat around and had coffee and watched Matt and Katie.
Anyway, this girl in Florida, this 18-year-old honors student,
was suspended and arrested and charged with a FELONY
because the school security woman found a knife in her
car.
A steak knife, people. She had moved over the
weekend and somehow a steak knife fell onto the floor
of her car and because of this stupid pointless asinine
zero-tolerance policy crap, she was arrested and spent
nine hours in jail and will not get to walk with her class
at graduation.
That is crap, and I wish I was a really good
lawyer so I could get up in front of a judge and argue
the hell out of the unconstitutionality of zero tolerance.
I have to say, I do wonder from time to time how people
get addicted to prescription drugs. Not the addiction part
of it, but how they are able to acquire enough to feed
an addiction.
See, back in December, almost six whole months ago, I
went to the urgent care center about my back and got
a nice little prescription for Vicodin, 30 of them. I had to take
them twice a day for like a week, and then just as needed,
when my back was feeling squirrely.
I ran out like a month ago, and I called my regular doctor
yesterday
to see if she would mind calling in another prescription
for me, just so I could have them on hand in case I had
another attack. I was actually nervous doing this, because
I didn't want anyone to think I had a problem. I stressed the
fact that it had been almost six months since I had the
initial prescription, and I just ran out, and I felt like screaming
into the phone "It's okay, I'm not addicted, honest!" which of
course is exactly what you say when you are addicted but
don't want anyone to think that.
And then the doctor's office called back and said I'd have to
come in and see her again to get the prescription. And I
felt busted, even though I honestly, seriously, do not have
any issues with Vicodin whatsoever.
I know that money can do a lot for you, and maybe
I'm being naive, but I get the impression that I could be
the Queen of England and my doctor would still make me
come into her office. So do celebrities
just have unethical doctors? I do wonder about this.
I have decided on a new hobby. Well, actually, just a hobby,
as 'new' hobby implies that I have one already, and unless
you count lying on the couch watching tapes of shows that
have been cancelled, I actually don't have one already.
Pottery. I'm going to try pottery.
Elise has been potterying (pottering? potting?) out in California,
and she sounds like she's been having fun with it. Then I went
to this party last Friday night, and I noticed the plethora of pots
and bowls and vases and pitchers strewn about (but very tastefully)
the kitchen, and my co-worker's wife told me about the Kansas
City Clay Guild, which is where she does her stuff. And then last
night at the baseball game I mentioned that I was considering
this, and one of the girls I was with said that she used to go there
and she really enjoyed it.
I've actually tried it before, forever ago, my senior year of high
school. We moved to Virginia the summer before my senior year,
and I had to take an art class in order to graduate. (Art was
not required at my previous high school, so I stayed well away.)
As I am completely unable to draw a straight line and as the
photography class was full, my only remaining option was Clayworks.
I actually enjoyed it, except that we did in fact have to draw for
the first quarter, and I sucked, but fortunately we were graded on
effort, not talent. Once we got to the clay part, though, I fared much
better, and had a lot of fun with it.
So, I think I'm going to try it. And just look out, everyone who is in line
to get Christmas presents from me. Although, you never know --
by December, I might actually be good at it!
Right.
Watching: Nothing. I will be, though, tonight,
Sports Night, woo-hoo, the shining ray of light
in this era of season finales with no summer
Survivor to look forward to.