First of all, thank you all for the sweet words and messages about Dickens. Your kindness means the world to me and I honestly felt so much better after reading your comments and emails. If any of you were here in person, I’d give you a big hug and kiss and not even try to pick your pocket or pull out a few of your hair strands for DNA testing should I one day need an alibi. So thank you.
But between Dickens, moving, Christmas and a few other non-fun things, lately I’ve felt like a truck hit me. A big truck, like one of those Ford F-5500s or whatever the hell it is they sell during our year-round Texas Truck Month. And it’s really, really hard to write funny stuff when you have tire tracks on your stomach. (Just ask Skidmark Jones, the failed Catskills comedian. God knows he was never the same after that freak accident on the 405 freeway.)
Anyway, today I’m going to shake all of that off and try to get back to being funny. Or “funny-ish,” let’s not kid ourselves here. So for your amusement, may I present a few non-nonsensical ramblings:
Jennifer Hudson has a new Weight Watchers commercial on the air where Big Jennifer is singing and suddenly Skinny Jennifer comes out and sings next to her.
I know, it’s like some bizarre The Twilight Zone premise. And unfortunately, Big Jennifer doesn’t even try to eat Skinny Jennifer, even though that would have made it the best commercial ever created. (“OMG, Skinny Jennifer, you taste like rice cakes! How many points are you if I just chew on your leg for a mo?”) But I hope they paid her a crap load of money for doing this because God knows I would never, ever want to see 16-year-old permed, chubby Wendi singing “Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go” while standing next to current day 44-year-old permed, chubby Wendi singing….nevermind. You go, girl.
In other news, we need a new couch for our house, so we’ve been shopping around town for one this week. (And let me tell you, 10 and 8 year old boys just love going furniture shopping. They look like they’re being held in some sort of intense hostage situation at Pottery Barn.) It’s been a few years since I’ve browsed couches, and I was a bit surprised to see how many of them now come with motors. Not the kind that allows you to ride it into the kitchen for a salty snack, unfortunately, but the kind of motor that reclines the couch for you because pushing out a leg rest using your body weight is just so damn taxing. Yay, America! Using our technology for good!
The stores also have plenty of solid white leather sectional couches for sale. These couches always have chic, cool names like “White Diamond,” or “Mega Modern,” but anyone with a child or pet just calls them “Fucking Stupid.” Seriously, after two seconds in our house, a solid white leather couch would look like Dexter’s kill room after it was attacked by a pack of rabid badgers carrying paintball guns. Who, besides drug dealers and P. Diddy, would buy this? No, thank you. I’ll take my big, puffy couch in the color of “Crumb,” please.
Another thing confusing me is the segment the Today Show had on this morning about “Do-It-Yourself Holiday Hair.” Because apparently, they don’t have the same definition of Holiday Hair as I do. Not a single one of the models had mashed potatoes in her bangs and/or gravy dripping from her ponytail. I know, WTF? How is sticking a $15 hair extension on your head “festive”? It’s a good thing I’m totally unpopular and not invited to any parties this year or I’d be really confused as to what to do besides put a stick-on bow on top of my head like one of our North Dakota relatives used to do. (She also was very avant-garde and wore her lipstick way outside of her lips. Man, I miss her.)
Finally, the day before Christmas, our new neighbors came to our door bearing a box of Krispy Kremes and three adorable daughters who asked if they could babysit. Isn’t that sweet? And I know you’re thinking what I’m thinking, aren’t you? Total grifters. Probably into identity theft and black market organ dealings when they’re not busy robbing banks for the Russian mafia. That’s why my binoculars are already trained 24/7 on their house through the vertical blinds because Neighborhood Watch waits for no man. You WANT me on that wall, you NEED me on that wall HOA.
But for now, I’m spent and hungry and need a snack. I just wish this stupid couch could take me to the deli.
Happy New Year, everyone!