Farrah, sorry they bumped you

I am missing my mom tonight. I think it's because of Michael Jackson, actually. Anytime some big pop culture death happened, I would call my mom - she ate that shit up like me. My sister, who I call Typhoid Mary because she'll call you the second a star dies or a natural disaster happens, or when terrorists hit - she is the one who informed me about the World Trade Centre - called me this afternoon before Michael's head hit the ground and told me he was dead. I swear she has a chip implanted in her wrist that broadcasts TMZ. Anyway, after she spread the news, we talked Farrah and she said she bawled when she heard, and I mean, I didn't know they were that close, so I asked why and she it was probably because of the cancer. Well.
Anyway, it's getting to be that time of year when it'll be the anniversary of us discovering her illness and then her death and I can't say that I am in a really good place right now. I might appear ok, but there are cracks that I notice that tell me I am not ok - sleeplessness, huge weight gain, etc. Anyway, it's par for the course, but what got me about MJ was that I almost reached for the phone to debrief with my mom and yet again I couldn't. Same with the trip. I was dying to call her every day and tell her everything we saw and were doing. The trip ended, incidently, on her birthday, where I made a trip to her hometown, which I will tell you about later. And I wanted to call her as soon as I got home and tell her all about it.
Anyway, it's the trivial things that get to you.
On the MJ thing, I feel nothing - am I horrible? Like, with Farrah, I actually felt sort of sick when I heard, maybe because of the cancer, maybe because it seems like yesterday her poster rocked the world of boys of the 1970s everywhere and her death means we ain't kids anymore, maybe it was that my dad had a thing for her shampoo and that brings back memories, or maybe it's because I always root for the underdog and she always was the underdog. But I hated to hear of her death. And hell, when Diana died, well, I almost sent casseroles to the castle. Then there was the brief two hours when John Denver died but they accidently reported Elton dying, and I was in a panic along with the other losers in the chatroom I used to visit every night. But hearing about Michael doesn't mean anything to me. Odd, isn't it, as I was a huge fan back in the Thriller days. I actually own it on cd now. But whatever.
Funny one for you - I went to google Jeff Goldblum dying, because Typhoid Mary heard that rumour, which wasn't true, but I came across some poster of him that says "Jeff Goldblum is watching you poop." It's fucking brilliant. Google it.
Well, that's about all I have to say. I better go see who Larry King is interviewing now. He had a whole show devoted to Farrah planned with Dominic Dunne, and now they bumped her for 2 hours of MJ. Fuckers. Peace.