one fish, two fish

Some random things that I have thought about and wanted to blog about but haven't had the energy to devote one entire blog to...

I heard on the radio this morning some new theory that Oprah stresses people out. They see how there's all these things they could be doing or should be doing to improve their lives and it's not possible to do it and they're stressed out. Yeah. Ok. I've watched Oprah plenty and I never felt stressed out. I felt REALLY poor, but not stressed out.

The Average Joe chick strives to be better than she is. She's trying to act like she's this really nice person underneath her paper thin facade and I'm not buying it. Not til she falls in love with the fat guy. Or the guy whose teeth are all the same size. I was expounding on some of my "theories" to HP2 and she was (mock?) impressed that I had these theories. I realized I need to get a life.

Scott has this thing that he does, when I say how much something costs he will follow the amount with AMERICAN?! In faux shock. For example.
Me: My roots are a mess and I'm saving to get my highlights done before it becomes a Greek tragic situation.
Scott: Uh-huh (feigning interest) -- and how much would something like that cost? The highlight thing?
me: $55 (grossly undercutting what the REAL cost is out of shame)
Scott: AMERICAN?!

My friend in Korea, Kiosk, thought this was somehow for her benefit. So she wouldn't think I was talking about some other country's currency. (I referenced this joke in my Richie Rich blog) Which brings to mind an interesting point. When he says AMERICAN?! I would like to retort with some other country's currency that's worth very little but I don't know any other country's currency, because well. I'm dumb and I don't go anywhere. I would prefer an obscure country, like Chandler's favorite Yemen. AMERICAN?! No! YEMEN!

Not much feedback on the Richie Riches "piece." Fame and fortune are ever elusive Siamese twins slipping from my grasp.

Ick, when I attempt to be symbolic that desperately it's time to go to bed and finish this crappy (and it's compellingly crappy, but crappy nonetheless) Candace Bushness novel 4 Blondes. Don't read it. Ever. It's just not very good. The problem is it's not bad enough to make me stop reading. And I want to.

your AMERICAN?! idol,
HP