Because I am covering several topics today, I will divide them into categories. Today's categories will be divided by Things I Know About Football.
A. Footballs are brown. I feel terrible about Philip Seymour Hoffman and his dead self. I always liked him. I read in the New York Times that they found two different bags of heroin, one marked Ace of Spades and the other had a heart on it or something. I didn't know heroin came in names, did you? I guess it's like wine coolers, there's more than one.
Anyway, I liked him in everything he was ever in, including Marissa Tomei. Once Marvin rented a Philip Seymour Hoffman movie for when his parents and my mother and stepfather came for Thanksgiving, and he popped it in and SCENE NUMBER ONE was Philip Seymour Hoffman on top of poor Marissa Tomei, in an endless sex scene. You have no idea how fervently everyone felt the need to get up and check on the turkey. Hello, comfortable.
B. Football players like to take out their teeth guard things and play with them a lot. Speaking of The New York Times, one of the things I got Ned for Christmas is a subscription to the Sunday Times, and it is wonderful to read that thing, and their Fashion & Style section buries the Living section of my hometown newspaper. Although I did miss reading about what they're serving at the senior centers across town in the NYT--those meals always sounded delicious to me. My hometown paper has THAT over it.
My point is, yesterday I read about Sarah Jessica Parker designing her own line of shoes and I saw these and if I don't get them my life will be meaningless.
MEANINGLESS.
C. They have expensive food at football games. I know this because Artie Lange is my Facebook friend and he took a picture of The Gluten-Free Grill and wrote "The pussies have taken over" and I love him, but I enlarged the picture and a gluten-free hot dog was $14. FOURTEEN DOLLARS. That's 5% of a Sarah Jessica Parker shoe!
D. Ned likes that Russel Stover guy or whoever he was in last night's riveting football event. Ned also likes independent bookstores, and they've just opened one here in Greensboro, and it's really lovely.
You can get coffee or wine or pretentious beer, and sit in the window or, you know, actually shop for books. On Saturday they had the grand opening of it, and we went.
Official the-types-of-people-who-go-to-independent-bookstores photo. We walked in as they were giving speeches and reading the world's most annoying poem and Ned said he could not look at me, because he knew I'd have a look going and that it'd make him laugh and then we'd be the official disrupters of bookstore parties.
We ran into a few people we knew, including Faithful Reader and Fancy Author Jo, who is putting on Pink-A-Boo, before you ask.
They'd told us, during the interminable speech (note to people having parties or throwing weddings or opening a book store: People get bored. Take your riveting speech or performance or "let me just thank a few people" and cut in in half. Then cut that. Get over yourself. Thank you. XO, June), that we could adopt a bookshelf, and it'd have our names on the shelf forever, and you could pick three books to go on that shelf for the rest of time.
"What'd YOU put on your shelf?" I asked Ned. He picked the world's pretentiousest books: White Noise by Don DeLillo, Suttree by Cormac McCarthy, and then I think he said Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, which I am down with. Jo said she'd put her own books up there. I said Charlotte's Web, The Secret Garden and Little Town on the Prairie. You can't beat books that influenced you as a kid.
What would you put on your shelf?
E. Football players throw Gatorade at each other like it's fun. Ned's cat eats my hair approximately 79% of the time that I am there. As soon as she hears me come in, she ties on the old feedbag.
thenk you, dad for breengeng home gurl wif six ton of hurr
F. They have girl reporters now at football games, and they all have long hair and a trifle too much makeup on. I know the rest of you had wings and seven-layer dip and so on last night.
Ned served a roasted chicken and four different kinds of vegetables. It was delicious. He made the vegetables himself, and bought a rotisserie chicken, and as he was cooking he kept announcing, "The chicken's done!" Isn't it sad when someone gets a kick out of their own self? I wouldn't know.
I guess those are all the things I have to tell you. I liked the commercial where the woman is a cancer survivor, and the Radio Shack one where the '80s called. What is this a commercial for? Cancer? Anyway I liked it.
Have a good day. Try not to OD on the heroin. Love, June
