I am currently in the throws of writer’s block.
Which is ironic, because prior to this diary, I hadn’t written anything especially weighty in, oh, three or four years.
Sometimes I think I should be working in a delicious 300-year-old English cottage somewhere, with lichens growing on the slate roof. Even though most English cottages have those thatch roofs, though I’m certain that they would tend to get musty or possibly moldy and that makes my throat itchy. I yearn to be a independently wealthy writer, capable of taking weeks off as the muse dictates. I think it would have been easier if I had been a writer in, for instance, Jane Austen’s time’. Or maybe Mary Shelley. They had things like absinthe and opium and they were LEGAL. I think. Maybe not. But then I think about niceties like penicillin and my asthma inhaler and the little cake of chemicals that I drop into the toilet tank so that I don’t have to scrub out the tank. So maybe I’ll just live in the now and wear a lot of empire waist dresses.
This writer’s block is not so much block as angst, even though I detest that term. Everyone is so angsty, there should be a store at the mall devoted to it, like the Gap, filled with many drab outfits and smelling of eucalyptus. Douglas Coupland has decided that he regrets ever coining the phrase ‘Generation X’. One of the little 19-year-olds that I trained actually told me that they were ‘Generation X’. I am 30 years old and I barely old enough to qualify for that generation. Stop calling it Generation X and start calling them the Depressed, because that’s really what they are.
Last night, finally got to spend some quality time with Esteban’. For two hours, that is. He was the perfect husband last night. My first words once I got home at 7:15 pm were ‘I want to watch ‘Big Brother’!’ which he nicely already had on the telly for me. Then he ordered a pizza for us from our favorite joint, which was to arrive at 8:20. Then we both watched ‘Big Brother’ together. It was so wonderful.
At one point, Esteban looked at a box of truffles sitting next to the recliner and said, ‘What’s this?’
Now, for the record, it’s a box of truffles that I had forgotten that I purchased a month back. I rediscovered it on Sunday and tore open the wrapping to eat three truffles for dinner while watching the Buffy rerun. And figured that Esteban, with his steely hunter’s gaze, would spy it immediately, sitting out as it was, in plain sight. The man can find a pack of Oreos behind the canister of flour on the bottom shelf of our messy pantry, for crying out loud! So naturally, as I continued to snack on them throughout the week, I figured that Esteban was also munching on them. But I should have realized that this was not the case, as Esteban does not snack like a girl, feeling guilty, munching and nibbling, pretending that he’s not really eating. No. Esteban eats like a guy. ‘This is good, I’m still hungry, I’m eating some more.’ Until every delicious truffle is gone.
‘What?’ I said, ‘You mean you haven’t been eating the truffles that I left out? You mean that the box is mostly gone because every one of those truffles went down my gullet?’ I recoiled in horror.
Esteban looked at me, eyes wide and began talking in a very soft voice, much the way you would talk a jumper down from the ledge of a tall building. ‘Noooooooooo. I’ve known about it alllllll the timmmmme, honey. I’ve actually eaten most of this entire box. Almost all of it, actually.’
So I calmed down. Later, after we finished the pizza, I noticed Esteban was playing with the cat with one of the little inner trays from the box.
‘Did you finish that box?’ I asked.
‘No!’ Esteban sneered.
&AO8AvwC9AO8AvwC9-No’, because that would be very piggy of someone to sit there and watch television and stick truffles down their gullet? ‘No’ because only an orally-fixated freak would eat so many truffles in one sitting?’
‘Nooooooo, hon,’ His eyes were large and focused on me again, like talking with a woman wielding a loaded pistol. ‘Noooo’ actually I lied’ I ate every last one of the remaining truffles. They were delicious and now they are gone and I don’t feel an ounce of remorse because it was completely natural.’
‘I love you, Esteban.’
‘I love you too.’ And then under his breath &AO8AvwC9AO8AvwC9AO8AvwC9-freak.’
He wins the Perfect Husband award. But only on this diary, which he doesn’t read, because I don’t want him get a swelled head. And he still doesn’t wash the dishes nearly enough.
This morning started out fairly badly. My hair was disapproving of my lifestyle. My hair wants to live on the head of a television news anchor, who will spend an hour lavishing attention and professional haircare products upon it. After blow-drying my mop this morning, I realized that I had just precisely replicated the hairstyle of the studly Keith Partridge.
Then I was forced to trot down to the basement naked as Allyson Hannigan, as both the bra and panties, which were required by my chosen outfit of the day, were still in the wash. I’m certain that I frightened several spiders, but I’m looking at it as a natural alternative to insecticide.
When I opened the door to the dryer, out popped a $20 bill. Now, I realize that most strippers do not receive a $20 tip, especially not from their major appliances. This made me feel more like the curvy round sex goddess that I am, so I gave the dryer a lapdance while the washing machine watched and hooted. The Maytag man is not so lonely anymore.
I got to work and I was promptly informed that my shirt was on inside out. I jumped into the conference room and quickly removed my top. The copy machine started yelling ‘Take it off, babeeee!’ but I only perform in the comfort of my own home and only for cash, thank you.
Have you seen these?
And for an encore, I imitate Danny Bonaduce
This week, on a very special episode of “Weetabix”
You mean, if my friends buy 1.4 billion dollars of stuff, I’ll get a free colander?
Charo and the horny little bitch
The quest for poop
Lazy days and Sundays always make me sleepy
Will taking amoxicillin get rid of my clematis?
It’s not over until your brother counts the votes
Feral Girl raised by wolves desires Rouge Pulp lipstick and some hair gel
