From Fred, first thing this morning: "Bessie, you should turn on the news. The Republicans are grandstanding on the Elian situation. Apparently I’ve become a Democrat without my knowledge." Now he’s talking to the spud, trying to explain the whole thing to her. It doesn’t sound like she’s quite getting it. The Miami relatives are described as being "beside themselves with grief." Good. They fucking well should be. It was fun and games for weeks while they were in control of Elian, and now that he’s with his father and HAPPY, they just can’t stand it, can they? Assholes. God, it makes me so freakin’ mad. I probably shouldn’t personalize it the way I do – all I can imagine is being in Juan Gonzalez’ place, with someone keeping the spud from me, and I honestly can’t imagine how the poor man hasn’t taken to a tower with a rifle. Okay, I’ll shut up about Elian for now. I’m sure I’m boring the bejezus out of y’all. It’s so rare that I take any kind of interest in anything going on in the world today! So Fred was in charge of renting movies this week, and as always when he’s off to the movie store I say "Look for something I want to watch!" Thus, each weekend he and the spud watch three crappy movies (one each day, including Friday) and I end up watching one or two movies only I wish to see. This week, Boys Don’t Cry came out, and I hoped fervently he’d be able to rent it for me, though I wasn’t holding my breath. After he got back from the movie store, we were laying on the bed talking (not a euphemism for sex) and I asked what he’d rented for me. After much verbal dancing around – my god, the boy does like to drag things out – he told me he’d rented Eyes Wide Shut for me. "Um. Why?" I said, confused. "I thought you wanted to see it!" he said. "Um. Noooooo, I told you I had no desire to see it!" I told him. "Oh," he said. "Well, I got Boys Don’t Cry, too!" So last night, he disappeared down to the computer room while I watched Eyes Wide Shut. I had no real desire to see it, since the vehement distaste of other journallers for the movie pretty much warned me off. However, since he’d rented the movie, I figured I could just fast forward through the movie and only watch the naked parts. Because, I mean, naked people are naked people, but how often do you get to see FAMOUS people naked? Sadly, the majority of the nakedness was women. This saddens me, as I had hoped to see Tom Cruise’s penis, so I could pause the movie and look closely at it. Really, how often do you see famous penii? But unless I missed something – by the time I got to the orgy scene I was only half paying attention, the other half of my attention being focused on an old People magazine – there was not a naked penis to be seen. I saw plenty of Nicole Kidman’s bare ass, though, and who could blame her? If I had a body like that, you’d have one hell of a time keeping clothes on me. Later today, I’ll be watching Boys Don’t Cry, and I can’t wait. I would have gone to see it in the theater, but it never played in any of the six theaters in the area, which I can only attribute to the fact that I’m smack in the middle of the Bible Belt. Friday night/ early Saturday morning, I had a dream that makes me think I’m sublimating my real feelings about leaving DI. In the dream, I was sitting at a desk in front of a computer, and a woman – in the dream, I knew she was working for a moving company – kept coming in and taking parts of the computer and walking out of the room with them. Standing across the room watching dispassionately was a man I knew to be my husband (not Fred). He and I made small talk, and all the while I fought back tears and tried to force myself to say "Ask me to stay. All you have to do is ask me to stay, and I will." I couldn’t force the words, though, and I woke up dry-sobbing with my heart pounding. I don’t think I need someone to analyze that one, do you? Ah, the house is alive with the smells of that hardboiled egg fart smell. Devilled eggs rock. Beneath that smell is the smell of turkey cooking – we’re having turkey instead of ham, since I’m not a ham fan – and I hear Fred rustling around in the kitchen cleaning up before he begins making squash casserole and stuffing to go with our meal. Dinnertime is around 1, central time. Y’all stop by if you’re in the area (and you know I’d shit a brick if anyone actually stopped by!)
Happy Easter if you celebrate it. Happy Sunday, otherwise.
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