My life is in chaos, and it disturbs me. Is what it does.
The paint is peeling on all my ceilings, which I think means there's water somewhere bad where it shouldn't be and of course I can't fix it, and let me tell you, decorating magazines do not often show peeling flaking ceilings. Not even when they're touting shabby chic. I have the first half down, anyway.
My air conditioner is completely broken now, and am def going to call a repair person today, although the bank still hasn't put in the money that the stealy-pants person took, so if the repair guy decides to, I don't know, charge me, I am doomed.
Plus also, the yard is full of the tallest weeds imaginable, and part of a fallen tree, and this whole place is starting to look like the Addams Family yard, with less character.
In the meantime, I'm going to have to put dog food on my credit card today, because we're almost out of food, and do you think the dogs would be understanding about my card being taken, and that they can certainly eat at the end of the fifth business day? Do you think they'd be good about that?
So, chaotic. I hate the chaotic.
The good news is, Edsel has finally gotten to play with his chew toy birthday present a little, although as I sit here, Tallulah is on the ground giving it the college chew. Yes, I totally just made up the phrase "the college chew." The fact of the matter is, Edsel really doesn't want any other toy other than his Blue. He lives for Blue.
Which of you left me the comment about how you'd broken up with a boy in 7th grade, after a hard-hitting week of dating, and you called the radio and had them play Nothing Compares 2 U? And you listened to it all dramatically?
I heard this song the other day, and thought of you, being all angst-y because WE HAD ONE WEEK OF LOVE. Nothing can take away these blues. Do you think it's sad that I giggled uncontrollably over someone I've never met and her sad 7th-grade scenario? I totally should have called the radio and had them play this song. Nothing compares 2 reader.
All the flowers that you planted, mama, all died and went away.
How often do you call some man "mama"? Does that come up a lot for you? Next time I'm in a passionate situation with Ned, I am so calling him mama.
I have no idea how I got off on this tangent. Was merely going to talk about Edsel's toy, and how he's playing with the new one, but will always prefer Blue.
Do you have anything like that? I mean, I use my other mascaras, but nothing is going to be Illegal Lengths by Maybelline. When that got invented, I'd reached my pinnacle. And I've loved other cats a lot, but no one will ever be Mr. Horkheimer.
Once, when the economy was good and I had money and my ceilings weren't peeling, I went online and had perfume made just for me. You answered a series of questions, like what perfumes do you currently wear, and out of these scents, which do you prefer (they had, I remember, scents like biscuits with honey, new-mown grass, a spice rack and baby powder) (for me it was the grass).
In a few weeks, they sent me a small bottle of June's Blend, and it was perfect. PERFECT. It smelled exactly as I had always wanted a perfume to smell: green, fresh, a little citrus-y. I used up that whole damn bottle in a couple of months, and then they went out of business. Nothing will ever be as good.
So, what's your Blue? What's your June's Blend? Do you have one? Or do you hate everything? Cause I can be down with that, too.
Oh, and P.S. Bull Durham was excellent last night. Tonight we have Willie Wonka. "I guess we're gonna see Oompa Loompas, then," said Ned, as we parted ways. "We are," I said. "And they make me nervous, Ooompa Loompas do."
"They make everyone nervous," said Ned, and I didn't know that. They're so disturbing, with their green hair. And so goddamn preachy. Ohhhh, we're Oompa Loompas. We have it all figured out, with our too-long-in-the-tanning-booth selves. Oh, sure, we're slaves at a chocolate factory, but let us tell you how to parent.