action shots

Me dumb.

Me big dumb. Me no can write, me like look at puppies.

That's the theme for the day. I've been trying to write some stuff all day and I'm getting no where slowly. I'm not uninspired just dumb. I'm writing things for the studio which is always tricky as my own voice is snarky and sarcastic and that doesn't always jibe with my mellow minded yogis. So I keep typing and erasing and typing and then reminding myself that it doesn't really matter if it's perfect, it just needs to be done, but then I erase and type again. I ask myself "you dumb?" and I say "sorta".

Also my lab top ignores me when I push the shift button and the letter i about 75% of the time which makes me look either humble, or lazy. i usually go back and fix it but sometimes I just get sick of it and go with it. At least i don't put 7 exclamation points after sentances that don't even require one. (Nice sweater!!!!!!!!!!)

i've get to get back in the studio soon and talk for hours and me so big dumb.

Tune in next time for a discussion on Salsiccia refusing to go pee pee outside.

Overheard

Time: 6:55am
Location: my apartment downtown Holly, overheard from the street below

"Hey you guys Mario"

"What?"

"You guys Mario?"

"No um we (car drives by)"

"Ha ha, awesome!"

cookies for breakfast

Another thing I can do just because I want is to eat cookies for breakfast. These are pumpkin oatmeal which is really a vegetable plus a whole grain therefor I will have 5.

I am working on an essay about my host family which is taking a while. In the mean time I didn't want you to say that I am a non blogging blog braggart so I am writing this half assed post this morning.

My mother sometimes gets slang wrong. Which would be normal if it was slang from my generation, but Basketball Jones came out in 1974, 6 years before I was born. So when she leaned over the kitchen counter last night to say that she's been cooking all day because she "just had a cooking jonesy" I tried my best not to laugh and correct her. I've corrected her before, many times. Explained that she could say she has a jones or that she is jonesing but not jonesy. Not jonesy at all. She doesn't believe me or she doesn't care. It's odd that she'll ask how to say other things, ask when to use affect vs. effect but she won't believe me on jonesy and she won't believe me on measure. My mom pronounces this word like mayzure. At first I'd say "mom it isn't your playzure to mayzure your trayzure." This elicited a cold quiet stare. I'd gulp "Get it mom? Those words rhyme. Or they should when you say them correctly."

Gulp.

She doesn't want to be corrected by her daughter. So I let her say "We need to mayzure those windows perfectly because if you mayzure them just a bit wrong the shades won't fit." and "I've got a pad thai jonesy." And I smile at it and am glad that she doesn't say we should go out for some Eyetalian food.

Cheesy movie update:

Baby is still gone, gone till Saturday. Last night I watched 4 weddings and a Funeral. Hugh Grant spent the entire movie looking like he was going to puke on his shoes which gave me an odd anticlimactic feeling when he never did. Andie MacDowell (and any other Americans) seemed to be talking very slowly. I never really got why they loved each other. Andie's character was pretty rotten just sleeping around and marrying for money. And the only personality trait that Hugh's character exhibited besides nausea was tardiness (and paleness). So it was hard to root for them. But I cried lots when Gareth died and his boyfriend read that poem over his casket.

let's just pretend

that I've already written the compulsory "I'm back in the blogging saddle" post.

So now that that's taken care of I can write about uh some of the very um compelling things that I've certainly been thinking about. Definitely.

Or

I have discovered the plethora of crap I can watch instantly on my lap top (does anybody else say lab top?) from netflix. I barely ever watch tv or even movies but Baby is in Brazil and the dogs sleep a lot and when she's away I don't, sleep that is. So I watched Spiderman 3, which I wouldn't have paid a dime to see in the theatre. But since living on my own I have developed a taste for stuff I would have turned my nose up at a year ago. Just because I can. I was dust mopping the floors in my overpriced organic panties one day when I suddenly blurted out "I like Lenny Kravitz." So I watched Spiderman 3. It's cheesy to the point of making me feel less vegan as a consumer. But I cried. When Aunt B or Aunt Mae or whatever talks about Uncle charlie or whatever proposing or whatever... I cried.
Whatever.
I cry easy. Storycorps on NPR makes me cry every Friday morning. I just hear the homey intro music and I start to fumble through my glove compartment for starbuck napkins to blow my nose on.
Baby's gone for a week and then home for just a few days then gone for another 10. So think of me at one in the morning, lying in bed with my lab top propped on my knees, eyes itching from staring at the screen and red with tears while I watch Pirates of the Caribbean or some such piece of crap.