After watching Britney Spears, Kim Kardashian, and Reese Witherspoon launch their own fragrance lines, I decided that I too can create something similar, targeted at the same customer base, and yet it will be starkly honest.  That is to say, my new product will be a fragrance for teenage tarts, and it will be called “Buy me.”  Get it? Get it?

I can see the commercial now – a sexy woman is pressed up against a handsome man (with his shirt open of course, and wind is blowing furiously) and he says – “wow. [pause. meaningful look into her eyes] you smell good, what is that?”

She smiles at him, nuzzles up to his neck and whispers in his ear: “Buy me.” Dramatic look of recognition flashes between the two, and then she says, “It was only 19.99 at CVS.”

See? tart.

I’m SPAM worthy. OK, true, I only got one Spam comment, but that counts.

I haven’t updated or even logged in to my blog in almost 4 months, and boy was I delighted to see that I had a Spam “fan,” robot, whatever. Count it!

Riding on this high, I decided to find out more about comment spamming as it’s sometimes called.  Unfortunately for you reader, I lost interest fast. So, I have nothing to give to you.

Go away.

OK. Not really. I realize that allergies plague a lot of people, and in fact, they’re really not all that bad for me – a little itchy throat, a chronic but shallow cough – no biggie.

The truth is, I really like the taste of wine, of certain beers, and of some mixed drinks.  And really, do I have to wait until I meet up with friends to taste the sweetness of their juice?

If I’m going to drink by myself though, I need a problem to blame it on.  Right now, allergies is it.  I rack my brain, and my self-help books for an alternative answer and I come up with nothing. Nothing!  I mean, I’ll keep thinking about it.

In the meantime, I’ll enjoy my glass of wine.

Cheers

(drumroll please)

Lawn furniture… for the lawnless.

Get it?

It will be portable – light and collapsable. It will be stylish.  It will allow the city-slicker to occupy the Dolores Parks of the world in higher style than the rest of the hobos on the street.  (no soiled blanket, thank you!)

Concerts on Summer Stage now center around you, oh stylish lounger and cultural demi-god.  No Walmart picnic chair will block your view of anything.

The kids will love it! And by kids, I mean, adults!

Now, someone find me a boardroom to storm.

Is this karma in action?  Surely this is what I get for hating on the fitness instructor who got me where I am today.

My original plan was to go to the gym again this morning and do the spin class, also taught by the same instructor.  Listen: she probably made it to class, flowing locks and all. I, on the other hand did not.  I fell so readily – and only after one battle. How sad.

The worst of it is, my ass hurts. My hams hurt. Throw in my shoulders, chest, and arms into that bucket as well. I’m a complete mess.

What if your fitness instructor looks like she’s going to throw her back out with every exercise she’s telling you to mimic?  That surely sounds like grounds for dismissal to me.

This morning I dragged myself out of bed at 5:45 only to have this woman jerking her body around in front of my face telling me to do the same.  I thought her life was in danger.  I must’ve gone through half the class with my jaw dropped waiting for the woman to keel over.  (And what was up with her having her long blonde hair swishing around sans hair tie?  And before you think I’m hating on an innocent beautiful instructor, this woman looked like a shorter Fabio.)  Believe me, I would follow a beautiful, lythe being in the most herkiest-jerkiest movements if I thought it would give me a body of similar proportions.

Thankfully, I had the sense to grab weights that I could handle.  I looked like a total wuss, but at 6am in the morning, I really didn’t care.  Let’s face it – I already looked stupid in so many other ways.

Take good care of your skin, you hair.

Maybe get blue contacts. If your eyes are dark, that’ll do too.

Dress sharp when appropriate, otherwise, get lots of photos of you casually hanging with the guys.

Smile.  But first, make sure your teeth are straight and reasonably white.

Then, go do your deed.

You might not get away with it.  In fact you probably won’t because you’re too into yourself and people love you too much for you to realize that sometimes good looking, well liked people can’t get away with everything.  Good thing you have those good looks though, because the media will love you and your photos will be all over the place.  All across America, people will have you on their HDTVs, and some of them will secretly hope that you’re found innocent.  You’ll be a star.  Even if you’re a complete psychopath.

But first things first. Go to the gym.

This week, CNN revealed a stunning new revelation into just how incompetent those hoo-hahs at GM are with their story on the 1.5 million car recall.  What’s wrong with the cars, you ask? Nothing, unless you count the spontaneous fire that lit under your hood as a problem.  Lower your standards already.  You probably got the car with no money down and 0% interest for the first 12 months so quit complaining.

I know what you’re thinking.  “We had to save them.  Millions of jobs would have been lost.”  I feel for the employees of GM, and of all the companies in the automaker ecosystem.  I sincerely wish that all of them (and everyone else in the world) can continue (or hope to) make a good living.  Here’s the thing I don’t understand: What else could we have done with the billions of dollars lent to GM?  Could we have stimulated Detroit economy in some other way?  Would the economies affected be able to recover through some other initiatives that encourage new businesses?  I’m obviously shooting from the hip here, but c’mon, if a restaurant around the block served terrible food and sucked overall, would you frequent it?  Would you loan them money?  Even if the Gordon Ramsay equivalent in the auto-industry appeared on GM’s doorstep and tried to make them over, chances are GM will fail anyway.  I’d rather that sucky restaurant go under and get replaced with something good so that the community benefits overall.  Maybe that’s harsh, but that’s the beauty of capitalism.

This was my response to mom’s inquiry of what it was that I had forgotten.

I’m not really sure what she was trying to get out of me with that questioning tactic.

OK wait. That was unfair.  She did legitimately have some clues that I might have forgotten something, and my response was just a stonewalling tactic, learned from none other than Billy Bob Thorton (that weirdo.)  Though if I were as weird/intense/angry as ol’ Billy, I would have said something like: “I never forget anything.  What did you forget today? You know what I like to do? I like to read about Monsters.”

Back to the main thread here – the topic earlier in the conversation was “Did I go to church for Easter Sunday?”  And no, in fact I hadn’t, but I never claimed to have forgotten about it.  Oh. oh. Maybe I am as weird/intense/angry as Billy.  I might not have the whole “art-TISTE” thing as an excuse, but at least my respnse wasn’t nearly as ridiculous as his.  AND my mom thought I was funny. so there.

What I really wanted to say though was: “No, but I did do my laundry.”
What does my laundry have to do with anything, they (and you) ask?

“Well, they’re both chores, aren’t they?”

ZING.

zing zing