— I love Judge Judy. Desperately. I want her to approve of my life choices.<\/p>\n
— Not as much as I love Bret Michaels and Rock of Love<\/i>. I think that Rock of Love<\/i> is the best show on television. Ever. It’s a high water mark of unbelievableness. I have fierce opinions about everyone involved, I am totally engrossed, and I must watch it as often as I can. Doesn’t matter if it’s a rerun. I watch it again. I think I need to own the entire series. So I can dip into that glorious pool whenever I want to. And believe me. I will want to. “Will you stay in this house and continue to rock my world?” WHAT???? it is GENIUS. I think he and Heather are soulmates. I really do. Lacey can cry her crocodile tears all she wants. It won’t make a damn bit of difference. At least I hope it won’t! Jess seems way too sane to really be Bret’s girl. But Heather is as nuts as Bret is. It’s a match made in heaven. Go, Heather!!<\/p>\n
— I’ve been sick for the last 2 days. Every month when I get my period, there’s a day where I think: “It has NEVER been this bad before.” And then it passes, and my female mind willfully forgets it until the next month. I was in agony last night. I reiterate: it has never been as bad as it was last night. It’s still pretty bad today but last night was the nadir.<\/p>\n
— While I was in agony, I sat down and read the entirety of this<\/a> – which I do on occasion when I need some damn fine writing, as well as a laugh-out-loud funny read. It doesn’t matter how much I’ve read it … certain sentences still pierce through the glaze of familiarity and I find myself literally GUFFAWING at my laptop. Bless you, Ali, for the funny!!! I saw her do her one-woman show of that material and she is just as funny in person. Great stuff.<\/p>\n — My feet are all messed up. Again. I’m feeling very OFF, physically.<\/p>\n — Meeting with my trainer tomorrow morning at 10:30. I’m dreading it. I have gained 20 pounds in the last 2 days from water retention alone. I feel horrific.<\/p>\n — Rachel was describing to me, tonight, a restaurant she loved – where she recently had dinner with her husband. “It’s like college food. You know. Every sandwich has avocado in it.”<\/p>\n — My days have been really long recently. Long and busy. I’m exhausted when I finally get my ass home. The weekends are a black hole of nonproductivity. I am going to try to change that this weekend.<\/p>\n — Because of a favor I did recently for the assistant of a celebrity hairstylist (that is indeed his job description) – she’s arranged for me to have a cut and color at his salon in New York (NOT the one in Beverly Hills!) – gratis. As a thank you for what I did for her (and him). What she is offering me would probably end up costing about 700 bucks all togehter but it’s going to be free for me (I will still, however, tip everyone and anyone who touches my hair during my time there!). So I am kind of terrified of going to this salon – terrified as I always am by anything truly high-end – I’m such a proletariat – but the conversation in my head at this point is an interesting one, something to be duly noted. Am I not worth it? Is she not giving this to me out of a true sense of gratitude? Why do I feel ashamed about it? And slightly guilty? A truly odd state of affairs. It was the kind of situation too where she offered it to me and then it took me 2 weeks to get up the nerve to take her up on it. ??? So weird. I sent her a shamefaced email today: “Uhm … if the offer still stands …” She emails me back immediately: “I thought you’d never ask!!!!!!! Just say when!!!!!!!” (Her emails are always like that. I love her.) I say a time that might work for me, but give her a HUGE opening to say back, “Well, that is celeb stylist’s busiest day … can you pick another day?” This is what I expect from life. Barriers at every step of the way. Small ones, but barriers – one that intimidate, and say, “You are not in THIS club.” This is what I expect. Instead, I hear back from her: “You pick the time!!!! Whenever!” So I did. And that’s that. I find myself strangely moved to tears by the entire experience.<\/p>\n — If anyone makes a comment tut-tutting the frivolousness of anyone spending 700 dollars on a haircut, it will mean you have missed the point entirely.<\/p>\n — I was on the bus the other morning, coming into the city. The traffic was unusually bad. We were in a dead standstill in the Lincoln Tunnel and it was all I could do to not go postal. We were underneath the Hudson. Stuck. I’m not really a claustrophobic person, but any kind of gridlock coming into the city is always kind of stressful – and brings up memories of 9\/11 for me. Especially being UNDER the water. And not moving. For HALF AN HOUR. It was unbelievable. Turns out a car had stalled on the New York side – right at the exit to the tunnel – and backed up traffic all the way into Newark practically. But we had no updates, no nothing … just stasis. I couldn’t do anything about my situation … nothing I could do … so I had on my iPod, and I tried to just zone out as much as i could. I tried to focus on Bleak House<\/i> – unsuccessfully. I had iPod on shuffle and suddenly out of nowhere … I heard my own voice. A duet I recorded years ago. I never listen to it anymore, it’s from another time and place. So sitting there, underneath the river, I resisted the impulse to click “Next” and listened. Listened to my own voice singing. I sounded so YOUNG. That was my first response. So YOUNG and actually kind of fierce! I surprised myself. Certain nuances and notes and details … I enjoyed the harmony – it brought a smile to myself – it brought pleasure – after all these years. But god, what an odd sensation. An echo … coming up through the years … my own voice … I can see where I was, what I was wearing when we recorded it (a long black skirt, a blue t-shirt, and a blue bandanna round my head), what I was LIKE then … I could hear it all in my voice. Who was that girl? And the weird thing, is I know the end of that story. The girl singing didn’t know the end. She was in the middle of it. I can hear her oblivion in her voice, the clear tones of positive hope and belief. It wasn’t as depressing as I’m making it sound, but it sure was strange.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" — I love Judge Judy. Desperately. I want her to approve of my life choices. — Not as much as I love Bret Michaels and Rock of Love. I think that Rock of Love is the best show on television. … Continue reading