Lateshoes

Will you please be my president?

I am a romantic and as such it is my way to hold onto the past, hope for reversals of fortune and hang onto the idea that all wrongs will be righted in the end. It’s sometimes a sad, annoying way to live, I must admit and it’s never come in handy in relationships or in my literal heartbreak over the cancellation of beloved t.v. shows, but here – right now, in politics we have a chance.

It’s a sappy wish and a fallible one. It’s not as if Al Gore could turn the oval office into a time machine and fix everything that’s been so radically fucked over the past 6 years. (Though, that would be wicked cool). At the very least though, we would once again have a president who inspired loyalty, confidence and hope. A president who could complete whole sentences and talk for hours about the history of the printing press.

It’s late and don’t get me wrong, I’m all for Hillary and Obama – I want them to succeed, but my penchant for the dramatic compels me to hope for poetic justice.

Read a excerpt from Al Gore’s new book, The Assault on Reason.

I honestly spent 6 hours at Ikea on Saturday with my neighbor. I want every bloody thing in that entire store.

Work has been utterly complicated lately and I can’t get into it except to say that my department is down 1 and a half people and it’s our busiest time of the year, so the situation is prime for “the boss” to have his annual panty-party. It’s already begun in some respects. He tells every person who walks by his office how busy he is…how swamped and overwhelmed he is …as if he’s the only one. We’ve all volunteered to help and have really been working well to pick up the slack, but none of that matters in the face of his “sacrifice.” Ugh. Whatever. I’m so sick of this job taking up my valuable mental space. I want to coast. Come in. Do my job. Go home. I honestly envy people who are capable of not getting passionately worked up about EVERY THING that happens around them. I want so desperately not to care.

I really have to do something different with my life; and soon.

But back to the good news: Ikea has come to town just when our house needed it. I love you, Ikea. Really I do.

Hahahahahahahahahahaha… Oh, Utah’s local news is the best.

Click here to see my New West story on the same topic.

Ugggghhhh…. Well, yeah. I’m bummed.
Here’s the email I sent to the CW.

You suck!
Why don’t you do a Google News search for “Veronica Mars”…. Would a show, so wildly unpopular really garner that kind of response from the media?

I don’t think so. Thanks for canceling the best show on television, chumps. I guess you need more time for King of Queens reruns, huh?

Well, that’s cool. I’ll just not be watching your channel or buying any products from your advertisers. Suck on that.

Tracy Medley,
Salt Lake City, Utah

See my previous letter: HERE

I haven’t had my period in over 4 months. I knew it was stupid to hope that might mean something other than the usual – something other than being broken – but, I did. Secretly, I had been walking around for weeks imagining that I might be knocked up. I’ve been feeling “off.” I’ve been dizzy, clumsy, hormonally crazy, forgetful, sleepy…you name it and over the last couple of weeks, I’ve felt it.
So, today while waiting for my second bus, I slipped into Walgreens and without any fanfare got a home pregnancy test. I waited several weeks to take this step, because I feared the reality of the outcome. I’ve enjoyed entertaining thoughts of babies and motherhood. I’ve enjoyed imagining what a wonderful father Lars will be. I even enjoyed thinking about the complicated financial and job scenarios having a baby would introduce. Anyway – taking a test would crush the whole thing and I knew it. I knew it would, but I had to take it, just to know, just to be sure and also to kind of force myself out of the fantasy before I got REALLY upset about a negative outcome.
I took the test. Waited two minutes, with the little digital display blinking at me. NOT PREGNANT. What a mocking, fucking cruel way to put it. Thanks a fuckin’ bunch. I realize now that I will never buy this kind of test again. I could have handled a blue line or a minus sign, but spelled out like that – the thing might as well have read, FUCK YOU…. (blink…blink) Asshole!
Yeah, so I’ve been in a funky mood ever since. I almost snapped out of it over at Melissa’s watching Top Model, but when I got home I immediately started cleaning everything, so I knew I hadn’t even reached the worst of it yet.
I’ve gotten teary a few times, but I’m trying not to cry. I don’t know why other than I want to stay positive. I want to put that positive energy into the universe and have it throw a healthy, nerdy-cool baby back at me. Someday, in the near-ish future…and also a car. I think the universe at least owes me a cute, little hatchback for way less than low-book price… oh and a better job. I think that’s the least it can do after saddling me with a fucked up, stupid body that can’t even make babies right. I want restitution.

First of all, the million dollar bra was worth every penny. The boobs are lifted, separated and they look kind of pretty too. Wow. Fayreform! You have won my heart.

Speaking of boobies – Americas Next Top Model ended its 8th cycle tonight and I have to admit, like at the end of every season, I feel just a little empty inside. Jaslene won and while she’s kind of funny, I’m left thinking, huh? Really? I know models are supposed to be thin and I’m not a fat-elitist or anything, but that girl is waaaay too skinny.

All of Tyra’s yammering and grandstanding about weight and body issues fall flat now that we’ve heard her go on and on about Jaslene’s “great body.” The hell? I’m not saying that Jaslene is unhealthy, because I don’t know for sure, but she is definitely the skinniest girl I’ve ever seen on the show and that is saying a lot. Not only that – but, I’m still not convinced of her being “born female.” Not that it matters – I mean a tranny Top Model winner would be amazing, but at least be honest about it. I’m rambling now and it really doesn’t matter. I’ll watch that fucking show no matter what they do because it’s funny and lame and never stops contradicting itself. It’s genius television and Tyra deserves every penny she gets, because god knows she needs every penny for that wig collection she’s got going.

I’m sad for Natasha though – I had become emotionally invested in that crazy, mail order bride. Sigh. When does the next cycle begin?

Melissa has a GREAT post on the same subject: HERE

Pajiba’s 10 Sexiest People – The Celebrities You’d Most Like to Bang

Okay, maybe not “bang” exactly, but I would (barring marital impropriety) completely have a cuddle party with Paul Rudd, Simon Pegg, Christian Bale, Nathan Fillion and Jon Stewart. All at once – all together in a big, purple bed with Prince playing in the background and soft lighting.
Well done, Pajiba.

I also learned from this list that Maggie Gyllenhaal has taken over Katie Holmes’ roll in the latest Batman series, which couldn’t be better news.

I have officially gone off the deep end. I bought a bra today for an amount of money I’m not really willing to disclose here – but, let’s just say I could easily buy 3 crappy bras for the price of one. It’s an indulgence I wouldn’t normally be proud of…but hey – thems my knockers. I gots to take care of them shits.

I thought Melissa was making it up – but, she totally wasn’t. Bubble Tea is yummy and strange and wonderful and creepy all at the same time. It’s also oddly obsessing. I’m already craving more. Iced milk tea, tapioca “pearls” and a fat straw. Give it!

Like I told Lars, “It’s like your sucking the tea through this fat straw and the yummy balls come right into your mouth.” Yeah, I should really think before I speak.