Oscar Post-Mortem, JT Style - Word to your mother

So here I sit, watching last night's Amazing Race, drinking a heaping glass of wine and eating a big honkin' bag of chips. Because that's how I roll. Did great on the diet all day, but tonight, well, fuck it, as the kids today say. I mean, tomorrow's another day, and I got all my fiber in today, so that means something. Since I always have slight cholesterol issues, I am really intent on getting my 25-30 grams of fiber done in a day, and damned if I didn't do it today. Of course, I was on the crapper twice and I am farting like Goldie Hawn after a night of malt liquor with her ex-son-in-law, but still, I did it. And the gas will go away once I am accustomed to the fiber. It was quite easy actually. I have my high fiber oatmeal for breakfast, which is 5 grams, and then my OJ with fiber, which is 3 grams, and then my All Bran snacks, which is another 5, and then at lunch I had toast, which was 6 grams, and then this Healthy Request Bean and Veggie soup, which was 8 grams, and then I had an apple and an orange. So it's all good. Anyway, my main problem is that I am allergic to something right now. I'd say it's one of my pets, since they are probably shedding lots of allergens now that spring will be here soon, but my eyes are itching when I am not home too, so I don't know. All I can say is that I am going to gouge my eyes out with a butter knife soon enough.
Anyway, I was going to ramble on tonight, but I am going to keep this short. However, I need to comment on the Oscars, since that is probably the thing all the hip bloggers are doing, and as you know, I am all about hipness - it's how I roll (y'all like how I stole Rox's catchphrase and use it as my own? Wicked!).
So, back in the day, I actually liked to watch the Oscars, even though I never see any of the movies. And this year, I wanted to watch because my girl Ellen was hosting. I don't care how much Rosie doesn't like her, I still love my Ellen like a mofo. This all goes to show you that Rosie doesn't wield the power that Oprah has. You see, when Oprah doesn't like someone, like James Frey, she just turns crazy and all her minions follow suit and write in saying how James Frey shook their faith in humanity and such - you know, all those old bitches comparing James Frey lying to literary rape and such. However, when Rosie does the same thing, it doesn't stick. I'm more like "I love ya Ro, but your issues with Ellen are your own issues, so suck it up buttercup" or "gee, Tom Selleck is nice overall, so where do I buy me a gun?".
Anyway, I watched for Ellen alone. However, let me say, the whole thing, while Ellen was fine, was much ado about nothing. The whole thing just takes itself too seriously. I mean, after 4 hours, you would think there could be at least an exciting moment, like in the old days when people would streak or Vanessa Redgrave would be booed for being a communist, or Brando would have an Indian holding an ear of corn accept his award. But Noooo, this sanitized, liberal bent Bruce Villanch scripted drivel sucked ass. Boring, squeaky-clean ass. Politically correct, hypocritical ass. What the Oscars need to do is get rid of that fucking (yes, I am saying fucking, because I am now beyond PC, I have finally realized) Bruce Villanch and his jokes. Dude, you weren't funny on Hollywood Squares, and while your PC liberal stuff might have been funny when Whoopi Goldberg was doing that schtick 10 years ago, it's lame-o now. From one fatty to another, lose 3 or 4 stone (I dunno what that equates too, but I wanna be British tonight), cut that frigging mop you call hair, and get yourself laid. Yes, I know it may be difficult, because your world probably hasn't been rocked since about 1983, and you are a hard sell for the gay community with your Big Bird slovenly look, but figure it out - your bitterness and your lame liberal jokes are old and are a result of your stifled sexuality. So, get jiggy with something other than old issues of Field and Stream and perhaps your outlook will change. I swear to God, when I saw your name at the end of the awards for yet another year, the light bulb went off and I had an "aha" moment Oprah is always talking about. It's like part of the secret, or whatever the hell it is that Oprah is hawking now.
Anyway, they need to get rid of those lame-o writers. And you know, switch it up - everyone expects the usual liberal joke stuff from Hollywood. So like, do something unexpected, and make jokes at your expense.
You know, being the mallable media baby who is swayed by everything I hear, I am all freaked out about the environment. Actually, I always have been. However, it's freaking me out more than ever now, and I am all for radical change, at the cost of the economy if need be. HOWEVER....
HOWEVER...... I resent being told all this bullshit by Leo DiCaprio. Who the fuck are you, you model-fucking, poker-playing bastard? He's up there, kissing Al Gore's ass (I love Gore, don't worry), and I mean, the whole system is screwed. It shouldn't be Leo up there, with him, getting accolades - it should be David Suzuki or somebody. Not Leo. SO yeah, the system is screwed. And then Leo is talking about how the Oscars have gone "green" and to log onto the website to see how easy it was for them to be green and everyone clapped like he was shitting Fabrege Eggs for Ethiopian orphans or something, but I mean, what in the hell is so wonderful about Leo proclaiming the awards are green? And so all of Hollywood is applauding but are they green? If they are so green, why did they all arrive in limos? Why didn't they arrive in smart cars if they are so green? Or hell, carpool. That would be green for their smog-infested city. But no, that never happened. It would also be green if they could have saved on child labor for the gowns and bought off the rack at Target. That's what I would have loved to have seen. But no, they don't practice what they preach. Assholes.
The rest of the thing was just boring. I was happy Jennifer Hudson won, but her speech and outfit weren't good fits, either of them. Then there was Nicole Kidman, who I now think is the creepiest looking person in Hollywood. She was wearing a dress that made Bjork look like Barbara Bush. It was just this dress with this freaky-ass bow thing that looked like it was coming out of her neck. And her face has this gross Renee Zellweger wrinkly thing happening - her head AND neck. Just fucking creepy. And I had no idea what in the hell Helen Mirren or however you spell it was saying in her speech. And Scorcese, God love him, looks like he is wearing a fake nose and glasses and eye brows. As you can tell, I am not spell checking the names, because I don't care enough.
And Ben Mulroney, well, he's an embarrassment to Canada on the red carpet. I'd rather watch Melissa Rivers. Ok, I am lying, but still, you can tell they have no idea who he is or why they should talk to him.
And while I am being callous, I love Melissa Ethridge, and her speech was great. But again, it was just so.... expected, her speech. But I love her, although Dreamgirls should have won.
Ok, and Jada and Will annoy me to no end. There, I said it. I am a horrible person.
And I hate when the nominees give a standing ovation to the winner of their category. I'd like them better if you saw them mouthing "fucker" or "I was robbed" or rolled their eyes or something. Or stomped off into their smart cars.
Anyway, that's all I have to say from the red carpet. Now if you excuse me, Joan Rivers and I are meeting for lunch at Spago and then we are getting some Botox done, and then Ben Mulroney and I are having a tanning party at a salon, and then Leo and I are going door to door to recycle for peace or something. Anyway, it's a busy day tomorrow and us Hollywood whores have to look pretty, you know.
Give em hell tomorrow, everyone.
Yours,
JT Dicaprio Villanch Mirren Bogdonovitch, Red Carpet commentator and pundent.

It's beginning to look a lot like Lent, every where you go

Ok, it is now Lent and I want to give up something. You think I could give up sweets? As in no candy, ice cream, or anything else that makes life worth living? I think I'll keep gum though. Apparently, some people do it so that Sundays are "off" because of... well, I dunno....
hmmmm, but is that selfish of me to give that stuff up because I am trying to diet anyway? Should I throw wine in there? Wine, chocolate, ice cream, and candy? I had some jawbreakers today, but I guess I just will forget it.
Why am I thinking of doing this you ask? I don't go to church. I haven't for years and years and years. But I do pray. And I do long for a more spiritual life. So a sacrifice during Lent should give me pause to think. I did Lent once or twice as a teenager. Sharon always gives up things like sweets, or potatoes, or bread or something really hard to give up. I feel guilty because I don't want to give up my diet dr. pepper, my daily coffee or tea, or sex, and I mean, those are probably the hardest to give up. So is my candy and wine thing just sort of an empty thing? Oh I don't know....... Anyway, whatever, I'll stop talking about it and although Lent began today, maybe I'll wake up in the morning and just know what I am doing.
Well, I bet nobody was expecting this post, in light of all the bald Britney material out there just waiting for me to jump on. But you know, that makes me sad, ultimately, because really, when you think of it, she's done sweet bugger all for years, and yet people are still following her every time she hits McDonalds. Like, why in the hell should we even care? Anyway, whatever.
Hey, anyone know what software you download so you can save youtube stuff? Someone told me and I forgot.
Anyway, gonna fly now. TTYL.
JT

Could these Idol guys suck any more than they already do?

Just have to comment on Idol. Watching it right now, and holy man, you know how I am watching closely for Paula's antics, because, as you know, she is what she is... and she is BRILLIANT. Well, first off, I can't quite place what it is, but she's got some work done. Seriously. She honestly looks like some sort of blow-up doll. I am not shitting you people. She's got this weird rubbery sort of look, and it's quite sad, really, because she isn't that old, so the sister (or whatever the hell she is) should just let the skin be. Let it be, Paula. But no, she looks like some kind of blow-up doll - if anyone startles her and her mouth pops open, it will just be obscene.
So now Sanjaya is singing, and while I was hoping he'd kick ass, it's horrid and creepy and gross. The song he just sang was awful. Absolutely awful. Painful, really. Actually, they are all sucking tonight. I was also cheering for that Sundance dude, from one fat guy to another, but it sucked too. I don't know. This might be a dismal year after all. And Seacrest is just frightening this year too. Yeah, dismal.
So I am sitting here, blowing the diet one more night. I am just disgusted with myself. Tomorrow will be a new day. I just ate like a 1/2 a pineapple with fruit dip and now I am sucking back a glass of wine. Tomorrow will be a new day, damnit. Fucking hell. I feel so fat.

OH, FUCKING HELL, I just read the heart attack link from Chunks on Lattegirl's blog - this is EXACTLY the shot in the ass of buckshot I needed this week. Just what I needed. It's one thing to sit there and say "ah well, I already still have some fat clothes left" but then I think of my kids and imagine the pain for them of not being here - this is what I needed. But damn, sobering......

Well, that was a buzz kill. Reality bites, y'all. Anyway, I am going to go look at Britney's scalp a bit before bed.

Oh, and since everyone is posting all this Another World stuff on my comments, let me recap a couple of my favorite AW moments. Does anyone remember back in the day when Cecile would poison Blaine (who was married to Cecile's ex, Sandy Cory) and lock her in the cellar and she hired this crazy woman named Alma Rudder to dress up like Raggedy Ann and scare her? That was some crazy-ass shit. Or remember when Dean Frame was this "rock star' and he sang "Song for Jenna" and the poor bastard couldn't sing, so they could never show any of this music?
Or do you remember when Sharlene went all crazy and became a hooker, so sometimes she'd be baking at her Holly Hobby stove and other times she'd be working the street? Good times......

Have a good day y'all.
JT

Talbot, get out of the alcove right now - it's time for your oboe lessons!

For some odd reason, I cannot get the old Nicolette Larson song "Rhumba Girl" or whatever it's called out of my head tonight and, quite frankly, it's driving me batshit crazy. I don't particularly even like the song (although I hate to say that since Nicolette is dearly departed and I feel bad saying that about a dead woman's song). However, I love "Lotta Love", so it all evens out in the end. Anyway, just had to share that with you all in case, at some point during this post, I accidently type "I can't stop doin' the rhumba baby...." hells bells, I don't even know all the words, so why am I forced to sing it? Slap me Dorothy.
Well, let me share another annoyance with you. My darling wife, Rachel, queen of undisputed beauty, always buys these magazines called "Kid's Rooms" or something like that and it's ways to decorate your kids' rooms (I am spelling that out to you like y'all are a bunch of inbred hillbillies or something - my apologies). Well, none of these rooms could ever really be done, because the people who they profile live in lofts, or 4 story Victorian ramblers and the kids have their beds built into an alcove in the attic, or whatever. It's just nothing doable in a house built this century. But that's not my complaint. In the one article, there were these three kid rooms from this family, and above each girls' bed was a framed thingy that had their names in this cutesy writing. Well, I am looking and see one kid is named Josephine. Nothing really wrong with that - they probably had to name her after a great grandmother who gave them the money to purchase the 1789 Colonial so that they could indeed fulfill their dreams of being featured in a magazine. So yeah, Josephine was ok, I guess. But, as I was glancing at the next bed, I see this cutsey "Talbot" picture. So, I had to call darling Rachel over and said "Gee, I don't think I am seeing right - it looks like Talbot." To which my darling love replied "it does say Talbot" (that is so a sentence fragment, did anyone else notice - did anyone else notice the comma splice in this sentence as well? Oy). So, I just sat there and, well, mourned for that little girl who has to go around with the name Talbot. What the fuck? But it gets better. I turn the page. I see the next bed. And I see the next name - Greer. Josephine, Talbot, and Greer. Are you picturing kids dressed in reams of calico too? Those poor little things. Greer. I mean, the moment she flopped out of her mama's va-jay-jay, did they look at her poor defenseless little baby body and say "look at her - she's a Greer!" I mean, I don't know about you, but Greer seems to conjure up a stern woman in an office, wearing a man's suit (oh man, I hate that look) and drinking vokda neat, and who lives with her cat Chuckles. Poor little Greer. I can't even imagine what they were thinking when lil' Talbot popped out and they saw her for the first time: "My, this baby looks darling - let's name her a freaky name that sounds vaguely robotic." Fucking Josephine got off lucky. Sweet fuck almightly.....
Anyway, I had to share that with you all. Those poor little things.
Anyway, let's backtrack. Spent the last week sick with good old influenza - it happens every 5 years or so, and little by little, I may be starting to let go of my resistance to flu shots. Oh, well first, last Monday, I had a dentist appointment at 1:00, and so I made sure I took a good old Ativan to get me through. I made it through. Still rough around the edges, and I was beginning to get sick, but it was ok. So then, as they day progressed, I got more tired, and my tickle in my throat was getting worse, but I didn't put 2 and 2 together, even though we spent most of the Saturday before at the walk-in. Kelly woke up Saturday morning fevered and with a sore throat. So, she had this white patch in her throat, which it doesn't take a rocket scientist to realize it's an infection. So, Rachel takes her to the walk-in by our house and comes home empty handed. The stupid fucker didnt see the white thing in her throat, so I completely lost it and started ranting about the south Africans who come to practice here but don't give a shit and on and on and I was ready to throw her into the car and take her to another walk-in, but then I had to go swimming, so we didn't get her to the other walk-in until evening. And so we got our medicine and were vindicated with his immediate look and his "whoa, tonsilitis and ______" - something else I don't remember.
So where was I? Oh, I didn't make the connection that I was indeed getting sick. So, by the end of the day, I couldn't frigging move I was so tired. So, basically, to make a long story short, I was sick all week, and then Mrs. JT got sick. I went into work for 1/2 day on Thursday and when I came home she looked like something ate her and puked her up, and the acid from the stomach of the creature who ate her was eating away her eyes - she just looked horrible. THEN, Kristen got a little sick for a day, and Brianne has been out of sorts too. And I am still so tired I can't stand it. So that's where I have been.
Hey Devo, I hear Covenant Bible College is closing down in your town. It used to be here, right down the street from my house. I literally lived down the back alley from it and walked by it every day on the way to school. Anyway, just thought I'd share.
Well, I am so flipping tired, I better just get my fat ass to bed.
Stay away from that Trim Spa, people - that shit is murder.
Love and Other Indoor Things,
JT

You can't fight city hall

OK, I switched to new blogger. I guess you just can't fight city hall. Anyway, I'm still alive, but I am too tired to post tonight. Our house was hit with good old fashioned influenza, and motherfucker, let me tell you, it knocked me on my ass. Then it knocked Rachel on her ass. Now the kids are fighting it. So anyway, I'll recap the week tomorrow night, but I just have to get to bed now. I had a bunch of nonsensical funnies from the week, but I am too tired. And, of course, the whole panic attack of going to the dentist, but sorry friends, Theologian Kevin needs his beauty sleep. But I'll really try to post tomorrow if I can (but it IS a big tv night). Monday is a holiday so I can stay up late.
Anyway, I'll talk to you sexy people later.
xo
JT

Theologian Kevin is in da house! Welcome to Hollywood BABY!

In a way as in a way as that's not right guy must leave for work now open by by could the buy not could the buy goodbye a leader who didn't

The above words were said by Margo with her brilliant voice recognition software. I wonder what in the hell she was trying to say. She's a deep girl, that one, even though she could not buy the buy, and had to say goodbye to the leader who didn't..... I did figure out the software was calling her dog Anacin instead of Addison. I think I figured out she was saying the dog wanted in and she was asking Rochelle to let the dog in, and the "dole" dog wouldn't come in.... but I dunno who theologian Kevin is. Check it out at http://agirlandherhammer.blogspot.com/ -- it will do a body good.
You know what I realized today? You are not considered cool when you are driving in your Dodge Caravan listening to Kim Carnes' Greatest Hits. In grade 8, I bought a 45 for her song "Invisible Hands" and I was quite excited to realize I had this greatest hits the other day (I sometimes have no idea what in the hell I actually own) and immediately searched for the song. Well, the chorus still sounds really good, but holy mother of fucking pearl, parts of the song are so cheesy. It's got these keyboard parts that make it sound like some outtake of Fame, where they break out those keyboards that look like guitars and off they go, playing them like they are gay Eddie Van Halen's, all decked out in yellow. And then I was listening to "Bette Davis Eyes" and glanced at the lyric sheet and realized yet again that for 25 years I have been singing "All the boys think she's a SPAZ" when really it is supposed to be "spy". I like spaz better. Remember my Hotel California and the "on the dark desert highway/combing my hair" thing? I still sing that.
Yes, call me a dork. Call me whatever you want. Theologian Kevin has faith in me. I can still sing the rhymes faster than an Indian on a trampoline (anyone remember that one?). Fuck me Dorothy. Or scare me. Or something. Anyway, in the words of Paula Abdul, it is what it is, and it's brilliant.
So the diet went to sheep shit tonight. I was doing so well, but we had our friends "Sebastian and Eliza" over for dinner, with their daughter "Ina" and we made homeade pizzas and I had 3 pieces, 2 helpings of Greek Salad, plus some cake, and then not one, not two, but THREE of these cream cheese chocolate cupcakes. Plus, I had two glasses of wine, and now I am killing the other glass left in the bottle. But tomorrow is another day, peeps. I don't know if I have even lost any weight, but I feel smaller, so whatever. I may just have one more of those cupcakes because that's how I roll.
So anyway, Devo apparently didn't like commenting here which freaked the ever-loving shitaki out of me, because I mean, someone who repeatedly says "fuck me Dorothy" and can't even remember where that came from obviously needs mental help. Yes, you will see me on Intervention one night, scrawling hip buzz words all over my walls and calling myself Theologian Kevin.
What else - Chunks had an erotic dream about a woman which she bravely posted about. But you know, I don't get the whole thing about guys thinking it's hot watching two women together, because it does sweet tweet for me - I mean, it's threatening in a way, because obviously they ain't needing a penis in the mix, so I don't know why the popularity. I don't think lesbians sit around going "oh, a straight couple copulating... now THAT'S hot!" Call me crazy - that's just the one man ramblings of Theologian Kevin.
You want to know something odd? I know a woman named Albertine and a woman named Marcelline. I am not making this up. WTF? What next? A woman named Oscarette moving into the hood? Sweet everloving Bessie, those are two of the ugliest names this side of Ethel.
Ok, I have a funny to share with you, and this will prove I have a sense of humour about my Joan. Joni was in the paper because of this award she got, and there was this picture of her, and Sharon takes one look at it and says "oh, Tom Petty!" and we laughed like banshees. But really, there was a resemblance. But she's still a foxy mama, don't get me wrong.
Chunks, what did you think of Clouds? I am not really a Clouds fan, although I love Chelsea Morning (almost named one of the kids Chelsea because of the song - I love the line "the sun poured in like butterscotch and clung to all my senses" - or something like that - this wine just went to my head and I feel a little drunk right about now. Now Chunks, I am not turning into a nighttime drinker/drunk like Murphy's husband, nor am I turning into a Kahlua hootchie Mama like your mama (your mama ain't a hootchie mama, but I just wanted to use the phrase), nor a dopey, slurring spectacle like my mama after a handful of her evening cocktails. Rather, I've been dieting for weeks and just needed to finish the wine since one of the kids did something with the cork from the bottle (I think it was attached to the fridge by gluestick from one of the kids at some point), so chill out, honeychile - tomorrow is back to liters of water, oatmeal, and wineless evenings. Because that's the way Theologian Kevin rolls.
I talked to Margo tonight who sounded a little tipsy-wipsy too, methinks. Bitch is thinking of buying this expensive house, and although I am more cautious, I say follow your bliss mofo - whatever turns your dial and drives you wild. So buy the house honey. Her lovely woman Rochelle was reading Augusten in the background and laughing, which automatically makes me love her, because y'all know how i love me someone who gets Augusten. So let me get all tipsy talky and say I love ya man. I still remember the first time I got the "I love you mans" as a teenager. Remember Margo? We were in your Nova, listening to either Motley Crue's Theatre of Pain or Duran's self titled album with Planet Earth, and we had Claude St. whatever with us, and made him pour most of his 26 of vodka in our big gulp, and instead of sharing it with everyone, I drank the whole fucking thing, and we went to McDonalds and it hit me and I was all "no, really, I just have to tell you all how much I love you man!" Ah, good times. Anyway honey, glad you found yourself a keeper. That bitch you obsessed about for those years was just a waste of skin. She's just a dork from Luseland. Remember that. Rochelle is the real deal. She can cook, she's cute, likes good books, loves Kim and Aggie, and can maneover your moods. Just get her to stop smoking.
Ok, call me Stephen Harper conservative, but I just don't think Shrek is all that appropriate for my children. I am watching the commercial right now for the new movie, and it's just too much. Make a movie for kids, and fuck the parents. Yes, I know, the "knowing" jokes are cute, but really, as parents we should just suck it up and watch lame kid jokes. That should be a sex ed talk for your children - you think you are old enough to have sex? Well, are you mature enough to watch 14 hours of Treehouse a day?? Because let me tell you, after watching those bitches Tansey and Trixabelle or whatever the fuck her name is, on Treehouse, over and over again, you need to know what you are getting into. One day, when Rachel was on her mat leave with Kristen, I came home, and she said to me, "Today on Caillou....." and then we stared at each other in horror and collapsed in a fit of laughter. But you know I wouldn't trade it for the world. I love my kids more than life, and I get sad thinking that our procreating days will end one day soon, because we can maybe afford one more, but we have to stop sometime, don't we? Unless we win a lottery and have kids into our 50s like we are fucking Adrienne Barbeau or some such weirdness.
Hey, Chunks, I read the Tatum O'Neal book - lemme know what you think.
I have nothing of any value to say, but I just don't feel like going to bed - also, I found another glass of wine via the box of wine left in the garage.
My secretary was trying to quit smoking today - she went two days and then broke down, borrowed a smoke from someone, and almost passed out. I totally relate to how fun and rewarding it was, but it ain't worth it. Devo, do you smoke? Have you smoked? Chunks, what brand did you smoke? Margs, what does Rochelle smoke? It will be 5 years in July since I quit. I can't wait to pass that milestone. Nobody believed I could do it or would do it. I showed them, and for times when I crave it like a mofo, I think of the naysayers and flip them the bird in my head.
You know what song I hate? Black Velvet. Watching American Idol right now and everyone is singing it this year. Margo used to love it.
My wife just woke up from the cough and said "ARE YOU TAPING THIS"? Scared the everloving hell out of me. So, I leave you now. Theologian Kevin wishes you all happiness and love for your Thursday.
Peace out.
xo JT

Jann Arden's remake of "Midnight Blue" - Now Available on 45 at a Woolworth's Near You!

Holy sheepshit Batman, I had no idea Jann Arden had an album of covers out! Fuck me Dorothy, that is exciting news! I was told last week tickets were going on sale for her in Saskatoon on the weekend, and I didnt buy any because my wife said we just saw her and I was thinking that she hasnt done anything new since then, so why in the hell is she touring anyway, and then whammo, I find this out. I got some email from the Jann people, because, as you know, we are really close friends in my mind, offering me some vip package to meet and greet and get a picture with her and first 5 row seats, for the low price of 295 buckeroos, because I would never ask my good mind friend to comp me anything, so then I google this "Uncover Me" thing, and then whammo, I'm getting fucked by Dorothy - she covers "At Seventeen" which is a song I've ALWAYS thought she should do, and "You're So Vain" (although I really don't like anyone covering anything of my Carly's) and Love is a Battlefield, which I worry (yes, I worry, because I don't want my imaginary friend Jann to do a song that might not be the best fit) might not be good, but maybe I am wrong. Oh, and she's doing "Downtown" which will also be the cat's ass and I can't wait to hear it. I really wish she would have remade Melissa Manchester's "Midnight Blue" because honey, I bet my imaginary friend Jann could sing the everloving hell out of that motherfucker. I am curious about "Peace Train" too because I didn't think anyone would remake it good, and then the 10,000 Maniacs did it so well, and I wonder if Jann will too. But yeah, I want her to do "Midnight Blue". Perhaps me and the three of you who read this can start an internet petition to get Jann to remake the song, because, as you know, those lovely little email petitions from weirdos with computers are highly effective. Come on, y'all, let's get our girl Jann to record the song as a B-side. For the love of God, you make me look nelly for non-chalantly buying fucking CHATELAINE magazine in the check-out of Walart to see what the Jann cover was all about - I mean, I casually threw it on the counter with my stuff and tried to look busy, like some teenager buying condoms or lubricant or whatever, so I mean, for going through that, it's the least Jann baby could do, don't you think? Come on, Jann, wouldn't you give your hand to a friend (if you don't know the song, this one will have whizzed by you).
You know, Jann is so cool, it would really be funny if she remade some classics outside of her oeuvre (gonna use them there big words now), like the Dazz Band's "Let it Whip", or the Cult's "She Sells Sanctuary" or hell, how about "Method of Modern Love" by Hall and Oates. I can hear her now in the studio, as she is singing the "M-E-T-H-O-D-O-F-L-O-V-E" suddenly stopping and saying "Wait... wait... what in the hell does this song mean?" Anyway, it would be the cat's ass, is all I am saying.
So anyway, I don't know if tickets are even left, and I don't think I got the $$ to go anyway, but it is a nice dream to think that I might. I'd love to take Kelly - she's only 5 but would love a concert.
Anyway, enough of the Jann Arden lovefest. It sounds like I am doing some sort of paid commercial blog announcement or something for her new album. Hey, maybe that's the ticket - get sponsors and ramble on aimlessly about their product. Give me a product and I'll plug it tomorrow!
Ah well, now that I talked on and on about Jann (because, you know, we were married briefly in the late 80s, back when we didn't have 2 nickels to rub together and really bad hair), I don't have time to post on all the other shit I wanted to - so here is a laundry list of what the next post will include - this will be the outline I am using. Look forward to the following topics for your reading pleasure, all in one handy-dandy post:
-- Sugar Coated Candy Sex (don't you wanna know what that is all about?)
-- Xtra
-- Carnie Wilson
-- global warming
-- the Cure
-- the Cease and Desist letter from Jann's people regarding the "Midnight Blue" campaign.

Ok, I have to go to bed now because "Heroes" is on right now and I have no idea what in the HELL this show is, but it is freaking the everloving hell out of me. It's creepy and stupid, all rolled into one.
OH! And I watched half of Ugly Betty last week, and holy doodle, that's one funny show, I kid you not. I take back everything I've ever said about Salma H., or Penelope Cruz or Rosie Perez or whoever it was I just said was annoying - doesn't one of them have something to do with Betty?
Anyway, check it out, it's the cat's ass.
xo
JT

p.s. I think my cat just farted. I didn't know they could do that.....