I hate to think of myself as someone who has only white, college-educated friends (the same as me), but mostly I have white, college-educated friends. I guess that happens, right? You end up making friends mostly with people of the same background.
Still. Hate. Say, June, how 'bout you be vanilla?
The point is, back in LA I mixed it up and became friends with a black college-educated person instead. Exotic! But she was also a good 10 years younger than me, and she's still in LA, so she's all hep and shit.You know what she probably never says? "Hep."
We're Facebook friends, and she complains she's become my urban dictionary, because I'm forever saying things like, "Ohmygod! Who's Mimi and what sex tape does she have?" I feel like a Crest White Strip when I'm reading her Facebook stuff.
(That sex tape is something, though, Mimi's is. Whoever the hell Mimi is.) (You'll never look at your shower rod the same.)
My POINT is, some months ago my One Cool Urban Friend had this song on her page, and when you watch this NOT EVEN REMOTELY SAFE FOR WORK VIDEO, if you are white, you are going to feel 800% whiter. You'll feel ultraviolet.
I think my friend Elena had this up because she thought Sage the Gemini is hot, which he is, although I am not successful with Geminis. Which is why I haven't returned Sage's calls. But I ended up liking this song, because the whole gist of it is that someone is about to shake her hind parts like a red-nosed Pit Bull, and guess who has her a red nose, with her part-Pitty self? I find myself singing this to her whenever she shakes her head.
I wonder what kind of music Tallulah would prefer, if she could sit up here and claw through my iTunes? I feel like Edsel would be into bluegrass. And Suzanne Vega. "edz so emo."
Oh, and you know how I just told that stupid story and you were all, "Heh, yeah. And there's a picture of Tallulah's red nose. There's the 190th picture of Lu we've seen on this blog. Heh. Yeah."
I like how I have you thinking, "heh, yeah" to yourself a lot. Anyway, let me just tell you. Me deciding to include a visual aid involved me getting up from this chair (hey, it's an effort. My hips still hurt), getting the phone, seeing if it would ACTUALLY take a picture today, getting Lu up out of bed (not easy), taking her into the spare bedroom and getting this nice shot:
Finally I had to drag her outside, then go back INSIDE to get treats in order to get her attention, then I finally got the pretty here's-my-red-nose shot of Louis. She's such a pretty girl. Who's my pretty girl? Who's my red-nosed pitty pit? Who's gonna shake it like a red nose? Let me sing the song to Lu.
Aaaaand, we've come full circle.
Anyway. Yesterday, I DID go to the estate sale, and I did not buy anything, MOM, because I said I wouldn't. I purposely didn't bring any money. But I liked looking around the house and staring at the people and OH!!! Oh! They had a Monster Maker, which is this really cool totally unsafe toy both Ned and I had. You pour what was inevitably toxic liquid into a mold, then you cooked it in a hot burny thing, and when it got hot enough to spread carcinogenic chemicals all through the room, you took it out and had your own plastic good-for-the-earth hello-landfills monster.
It was the bomb. And A HUNDRED DOLLARS at that sale.
I heard from white, college-educated Ned a few times yesterday. First he wrote to tell me he was having bacon. Later he wrote to say he was having shrimp. Finally he wrote to say he was having steak. One wonders if any vegetables at all made it to Manly Weekend. I also happen to know there was scotch on Manly Weekend of Men Doing Manly Things. So your four food groups were met.
I like how I act like I have vegetables all the time.
In the meantime, I weeded my damn garden and filled two bags and it STILL looks weedy out there. Those damn weeds grow like, you know, weeds. I never got the nerve to clean the gutters but OH! OH!!! I have BIRDS IN MY CHICKADEE HOUSE! BAYBEEEEEEE BIRDS! I did what I always do, which is call my Pal from MA, who is white and college-educated.
"There are little brown birds in my birdhouse and they go like this, "chirp! chirpchirpchirp bee beee!" "A House Wren?" asked Pal, and I like how my ludicrous bird impression was enough for her to make an accurate guess.
So, of course I'm going to need a leave of absence from work while I sit obsessively under the window and watch the mom and dad bring things to their babies. Oh how I love bird nests. As does Iris. To supplement her bell, I am also hiring a band to follow her and play an Iris theme song, so birds know she's coming when she's climbing the column to the bird house like Sylvester the Cat.
Okay, I am getting off this stupid blog now, but oh! I did see white, college-educated Tall Boy last night. I know! He's gettin' a whole tall Jesus look. It was great, because we only had to order water and then, free wine! Great loaves and fishes, too.
It was a beautiful night, and we went to eat outside. I mean, obviously, seeing as there's Tall Boy sitting outside and all. But for all you know, this could have been a stock photo I bought from an agency or something. You know how there are all kinds of stock photography agencies selling pics of the TB.
This is a photo of me, and not the Tall Boy. My hair looks tore up from the floor up (you know what my cool black friend also probably never says? "Tore up from the floor up.") but in real life it was pretty cute last night. The Tall Boy gave me communion wafers to wear as earrings.
No, see, Ned's mom gave me those earrings and they're cute as hell in real life, just like my hair, and I give up. My hair looks like I have some sort of Elias Brothers flip in the front. Get me a hamburger to hold aloft.
Okay, I'm out. I'm going to a movie and then lipstick shopping. I don't need lipstick and I probably won't buy lipstick, but I figure it'll keep me amused until Ned returns, which can't come soon enough. I can't wait to hear how he feels awful because he ate too much all weekend.
White and educatedly,