The Bold and the Beautiful, and shaking my head. Only on the soaps is it okay for people to storm over to the houses of their enemies, force their way in, and be insulting and mean. Of course, everyone on the soaps are so freakin’ thin that a good wind will knock them out of the doorway. If someone I really loathed tried to do that, they’d never get past me. I’d set my feet and lean against them when they tried, and they wouldn’t have a chance. Assuming that I opened the door in the first place, that is.
And how come Brooke on The Bold and the Beautiful is considered a freak for boinkin’ Ridge, his brother Thorne, and his father Eric (though not at the same time, mind you), whereas over on Guiding Light Reva’s been doing everything Lewis for years, and no one bats an eyelash? It’s not fair, I tell you, and Brooke will have Thorne whether the Forresters like it or not.
The bastards.
Today has been an incredibly relaxing day, and has included not only much TV watching, but also two naps (they were short naps, so don’t look at me like that), and having my hair colored by Mr. Fred. It was about time, too, since my roots had grown out about three inches. I got my first gray hairs when I was sixteen, and started coloring my hair when I was twenty-one. From what I can see of my roots, it’s obvious that if I let my natural hair color come through, I’d be half to two-thirds gray. I was actually going to let my hair go back to it’s natural color earlier this year. My roots had grown out about five inches before Fred freaked out and told me he’d color my hair himself.
I guess he doesn’t want people to think he’s married to an old lady.
Anyway, my hair is colored Feria "Brazilian Brown," my soaps are watched, and I only have two months worth of Glamour, Mademoiselle, and Cosmo to read. Oh, and the newest Reader’s Digest. I read an awful lot of crap, but it’s what keeps me informed, people. You know that’s what you love about me, that I can spout details about Teena Brandon/Brandon Teena, because I read all about it way back when it happened, in one of the women’s magazines. The only thing that really pisses me off is all the ads and perfume strips you have to wade through to get to anything of substance.
Though I guess "substance" would be a matter of opinion.
I woke up with the kitten on my face at 3:30 this morning and the foulest stench wafting around us both. I don’t know how long she was there before I woke up – I’d guess only a few moments – but I think my sense of smell is permanently gone. She’s so cute, though, that you can’t really blame her. Much.
Fred and the spud headed for Wal-Mart at 7:00 this morning, hoping to beat the crowds. They were apparently successful (I’m sure here in the Bible Belt that everyone was getting ready for church), and came home with my christmas present from the spud and bags and bags of fruit. Fred’s been having a craving for grapefruit, and while they were at Wal-Mart he bought grapefruit, tangerines, ugli fruit, and a bunch of other stuff that I can’t recall at the moment. The grapefruit was pretty good, but it sure had a bite to it. I’m not a big fan of fruit, when I do eat it I prefer the simple stuff, like apples, oranges, and bananas, with the occasional grape or pear thrown in.
I’ve got all my christmas shopping done, except for things for the spud’s stocking, and something for the cats. I’ll be hitting Wal-Mart early one morning this week. Knowing me, it’ll probably be Friday morning. I like to live dangerously that way.]]>
12/19/1999