Sorry I'm late today. I was super busy beating up my brother-in-law in an elevator.
By now I hope you've seen the delightful and riveting video of Beyonce's sister, Solange, beating up poor Jay Z, who always struck me as a normal person but what do I know? I thought Lamar Odom was normal, too, and it turns out he's all hooked on phonics or hair-oyn or something. Of course, if I had to be married to Khloe Kardashian, the Horse might be looking mighty tempting to me, too. I might be all "I been through the desert on a horse with no name."
Do you enjoy my heroin references? Are you reeling at how hep I am? I once knew someone who was getting off the hair-oyn, and I know you wish I'd keep pronouncing it that way, and he said, "The monkey is off my back, but the circus is still in town." I loved that guy.
Anyway, Beyonce. And her delightful family. I said yesterday on Facebook, where I discuss all the crucial News of the Day, that my theory was Solange really, really wanted to be the one to push the button. I tell you what, something was chapping her hide, anyway.
Anyway, this is just the sort of thing that's right up my alley. I love drama, I love celebrities, and you bring me celebrity drama, my whole day is complete. And there's nothing more perfect than the fact that his signature song is I Got 99 Problems But a Bitch Ain't One. It's just all too perfect.
I know as a world-famous blogger celebrity I should be on his side. You never know when some relative might backhand me on an escalator at Belk.
Did anyone watch that Jay Z video? I want to go in and kiss those Pit Bills. I got 99 problems but a lip ain't one.
Oh, and speaking of Pit Bulls, I went to dog daycare yesterday at lunch and retrieved my curs, who summered there while I was at the beach this weekend. Let me tell you something. When those dogs have had four days of nothing but play, when they emerge from that room and into the lobby, they're what you might call keyed up. When the poor 15-pound girl they hired to retrieve your personal pet comes out of there all pulled by dogs like she's doing her Ouiser impression, I always think, "Man. Maybe I should have just, you know, never come to get them."
But I could never do that, because while I pay with two bucking lunatics pulling my wrist off, the sounds emanating from Edsel are ridiculous, and if I ever abandoned him at day care he'd just expire of a broken heart.
Yesterday he whined and squealed and cried and looked up at me with weepy eyes and presented me with a poem on the drive home.
POE-UM FOR MOM
Viol--LOVE MOM SO BAD EDSUL DO! LOVE MOM! EDZ LOVE MOM! MOM!
So that was nice.
Last night I slept with 100 pounds of dog, and tripped over 100 pounds of dog on my way to the bathroom, and shared my teensy tiny small bathroom with two dog heads, and everything is back to normal over here.
Oh, and does anyone have any theories about why I cannot keep a goddamn shower curtain rod up? No matter what I do it keeps falling and I'm ready to borrow Karen Silkwood's shower, I'm getting so annoyed. Let me know your thoughts.