this picture. Is it just me, or is she a total dead ringer for Evan Rachel Wood? They could be sisters!
Speaking of Evan Rachel Wood, I swear to y’all, every time I think about the fact that she’s dating Marilyn Manson, I want to throw myself at her feet and beg her to stop dating that attention-whoring poser FREAK.
Evan Rachel Wood! You are throwing away your youth and beauty on a talentless freak! You are wasting the pretty! Stop it right now, young lady!
I’m sure he’s a wonderful person underneath all the posing and attention-whoring and lack of talent, but he makes me shudder and to see sweet little Jessie Sammler dating his freak ass makes me shudder twice.
(I’ll admit that she does seem to have the flat, dead eyes going on. Probably they’re a match made in heaven. ::shudder:: )
* * *
Last week we finally got around to watching
Bobby. I had no real desire to watch the movie, but at some point in the past I’d put it in my Netflix queue and when I wasn’t paying attention, it made it to the top of the queue and Netflix sent it to me.
(On a side note, I think Netflix should incorporate a “Are you sure you really want this movie?” feature, so that when they’re getting ready to send you the next movie on your list, they send you a “We’re about to send this movie you put in your queue a long time ago. You might have no desire to see it. Are you sure you really want it?” email, and you have like 6 hours to confirm that you really want it; if you don’t respond in that time, they go ahead and send it anyway. Wouldn’t that be a convenient and nifty feature? IDEA COPYRIGHT, Robyn And3rson, July 25, 2007.)
So one night last week we didn’t have anything to watch, so I said to Fred “Let’s just watch the first ten minutes of Bobby, and if we don’t like it, we can stop the movie and I’ll send it back.”
He put it in, and can you guess what happened next? That’s right – we loved it.
There’s one scene where Helen Hunt and Martin Sheen are getting ready to go out, and she says to him, “Do you think I’m a Jackie or an Ethel?”
Fred turned to me, a slight look of confusion on his face. “Ethel?” he said. “Who do you suppose she means? Ethel Merman? Or Ethel Mertz?”
I looked at him.
“You’re kidding, right?” I said. When it was established that he was not, in fact, kidding at all, I hooted derisively.
“Ethel KENNEDY!” I said. “She wants to know if she’s a Jackie or an Ethel KENNEDY!”
It blew my mind that Fred didn’t even know there WAS an Ethel Kennedy, so I made fun of him some more.
“I’m not obsessed with the Kennedys the way you are!” he said.
“I’m not obsessed with them,” I said. “I just think it’s sad that you have no idea what’s going on in the world around you.”
He got smug.
“Oh, REALLY,” he said. “If you’re so on top of the world around us, why don’t you tell me three Democrats who are currently running for president and three Republicans?”
“That’s not important,” I said.
“No, really. I’d like to know. Let’s hear it! Three Democrats, please.”
“Fine!” I huffed. “Uh… Hilary Clinton!”
“That’s one.”
“Barack Obama. And…” I had to think for a moment. “John Edwards!”
“Very good,” Fred allowed. “Now three Republicans.”
I had NO FUCKING CLUE.
“Well?” Fred said.
“It doesn’t matter!” I said. “The Republicans haven’t got a chance in hell of winning this one! And I wasn’t talking about POLITICS. I was talking about stuff that MATTERS.”
“Uh huh.” And with a smug, self-satisfied air, he started the movie again.
* * *
Speaking of the Kennedys, I have to say – sometimes they’re really good looking and sometimes, they’re just very much not. It’s like if the genes go one way they’re model material, but if they twist ever so slightly in another direction, they’re straight out of Frankenstein’s lab.
* * *
After I took Sugarbutt to the vet, the sore on his neck didn’t get any better. The problem was that as it healed it itched, so he’d scratch it and make it worse, then it’d start to heal and itch some more, more scratching, and so on. Finally, I went to the drug store and bought some supplies, and when Fred got home from work, we put a gauze pad with hydrocortisone on it directly on the sore, then wrapped some of that
self-stick stuff (it comes in rolls and looks like Ace bandages; all the bloodwork labs around here are using the stuff to hold gauze on, rather than using band-aids).
When Sugarbutt was all wrapped up, we stood back and looked at him, and then we had to laugh. ‘Cause he looked exactly like one of those
long-neck women in Africa.
The neck is slowly getting better, but I’d like to see it completely healed. It’s crusty and scabby, and still driving him a little crazy. If it’s not significantly better by the end of the week, I’m going to take him back to the vet and see if there’s anything we can give him to stop the itching.
Poor Sugs.
* * *
How YOU doin’?
* * *
Previously
2006: No entry.
2005: Home again, home again.
2004: I am a SUCKAH for the bullshit claims on bottles of lotion.
2003: Momma always said, stupid is as stupid does…
2002: No entry.
2001: Oh joy.
2000: I’m such a wimp that even a confrontation on TV ties my stomach in knots.]]>
