Yes, I should be in bed. Fuck if I know what the hell I am doing still up. It is 11:11 pm, and I dragged my stupid ass all day again, because yet again I had trouble sleeping last night - I think I saw 1:15 on the clock. But of course, I am not tired right now. Actually, I will go to bed shortly. I just had to find the Madonna/Timberlake song - 4 minutes. I have to say I love it. Of course, I love almost anything she does, so it's no big surprise that I am digging this, but it would make a great exercising song. I love her "tick tock tick tock" in it. Anyway, thinking of finding Sugar Walls now, since I went on and on about it the other night. Now I just have to dig out my Cure Kiss Me Kiss Me Kiss Me and put that bitch on my mp3 player. Damn I loved that album 20 years ago. But anyway, rambling again, aren't I?
This has been a week from motherfucking hell, you know that? And it's only Wednesday. Tomorrow afternoon, the Mrs. has a Dr. appointment, so I will be going with her to that - I try to go to all of her prenatal appointments. Then we have an appointment with the bank to get signing authority for our school council, which we have been promised takes forever and a fucking day. Then Friday and Sunday we are off again to another small city in the middle of fucking nowhere for dance. They dance Friday at 4:00 and Sunday at 1:00. We've been told that it will take 2 hours to get there because of the shitty-ass freak highway we have to take. Good times, since it's supposed to be snow and blowing snow on Sunday. Good times. 17 tomorrow and minus 4 on Sunday. Welcome to Saskatchewan.
OMG, I am listening to "Transmission" by Joy Division right now. I know none of you peeps were really into the whole new wave/goth/punk thing to the degree that I was, but holy mother of fucking Minnie Pearl, Joy Division's "Love Will Tear Us Apart Again" rocked my world when I discovered it at 17. Transmission always reminds me of dancing at The Bronx in Edmonton, with lots of black eyeliner, pretending I was cool like all the rest of the hipsters there. I always stuck out like a sore thumb, but damn, we'd dance until 5 in the morning and if we annoyed the dj long enough he'd play "Swamp Thing" by the Chamelions. That one is a hidden gem too if you are ever looking for music. Anyway, sorry - tangent again.
Anyway, the purpose of this was to rant about my old friend Oprah - you remember her. Ok, well, when I get home from work, the Mrs., who gets home 1/2 hour before I do, has charge of the remote. So, I get to watch one of four things. It will be good old Oprah Windbagfry, Dr. Phil with the creepy robotic wife, Rachel "chainsmoker voice" Ray, or the Young and the Restless. I am not satisfied with any of those. As I said, Dr. Phil's wife, Robin, completely freaks me out with her face that cannot move, because it's been ironed or something. Seriously, it looks like an ironed pillowcase or something. And then there is Phil himself. The fatass writes a diet book and people snap it up like fucking crack. What the hell is wrong with people? He's portlier than Merv fucking Griffin was. And then there is his whole sensational style now - the other day, I dunno what was going on, but something about some old bitchy grandma who didn't love her grandkids or something and old Phil hauls in a wheelbarrow of dirt into the living room and dumps it and says "you can fight about whatever or you can fight about dirt!" and I mean, in another two years, he'll be another Maury, doing paternity tests to find out which thug is some poor hillbilly's baby-daddy.
And then there is Rachel Ray, who for some reason comes across as so orange on our screen, it's like she's Chinese, with jaundice, and is partially animated or something. Just completely orange - both her and the set. We can never see her clearly. But oh, that voice, like fingernails on a chalkboard in hell, makes up for it. And the whole "EVOO" thing - why the fuck does the audience whoop it up like she's farting gold coins every time she mentions olive oil? I mean, just because the bitch throws some oil in a pot doesn't make her a star. Listen - I too can put oil on my food and slap it together in 5 minutes. It's called supper. So pay me a shitload of money and I won't be orange nor will I ramble on forever. As you can tell, I have RR issues too.
But let's fast forward to windbag. This isn't even about her, but about Charlize Theron who I don't really know from a hole in the ground, really, but I despise her now with a passion. I don't know what the hell Oprah was about this one day - it was something to do with Africa, and she's got Charlize of all people there in some sort of school. Not the school Oprah started that is staffed by abusive lesbian sadists - this one was for boys. Well, all these teenage boys are gathered around in this classroom and these poor guys are all decked out in thrift store duds - like plaid suit jackets and shit, and there is Charlize, giving a motherfucking LECTURE to these poor African teenagers in these AA cast-0ff suits, about how to overcome adversity. And these poor African boys are polite and looking like she's the fucking divine Coke bottle that they should take back to the village and worship, and I mean, what fucking right did she have to say this: "I too had a tough upbringing and if I can make it out....." all inspirational like. I mean, maybe she did have some suck-ass life story that was hideous, but you know, something tells me that you didn't find yourself born on a continent where everyone dies of AIDS or starvation or malaria or river fever, and you didn't live in a hut or had to fight rebels or didn't know what shoes were, or had to eat that Oxfam slop stuff, or wear AA cast-offs and not go to school, or never see a telephone or running water or electricity. So, I'm sorry, but that just about made me vomit. And again, for Opie not to edit that condescending bullshit out, well, it pissed me off. Now, I give the woman props for when she went to Africa that first time and brought all that stuff - you remember that show one Xmas - made me bawl my fool head off. But this Charlize thing, well, I think she should have kissed the fucking ground and said "there but for the grace of God". I felt insulted for the Africans.
And finally, there was the other day. I was making supper and didn't hear much, but Mariah was on and Opie was asking about her marriage and I don't know what Mariah said, but it was something about the divorce and the fear and whatever, and it alluded to something about what all divorcing women go through and out of my mouth popped "yes, Mariah, all woman can leave their controlling husbands with billions in their pockets and move on to new rich digs and such." She should have said "luckily, I wasn't trapped".
Holy fuck, I am so judgemental aren't I? Yikes, I have the urge to delete all of this because who am I to talk about anyone? Damn, I feel petty and shallow. But I will keep this here because I am an enigma. Love all of me, or damn you all to hell! HAHAHAHAHAHA!
Ok, the lack of sleep is kicking in - must go read my new book "Are you there vodka? It's Me, Chelsea". I am also reading another Nick Hornsby book (fuck, where the hell has his writing been all my life?) and STILL that Joni/Carly/Carole book that I haven't picked up in ages. I need another 2 hours in the day. Perhaps I should try crack....
Hey, speaking of crack, I discovered Diet Pepsi Max - double caffeine and ginseng. It's awesome.....
Have a good day everyone.
And now you know the REST of the story.