So I was just now watching an ad for Abilify, an anti-depressant. I have a cherry pie in the oven and am killing time, not that I need to explain. Anyway, a woman wanders through a dark beach-scape, black rocks jutting out into the sea over sand that, itself, appears to be black. By all accounts it’s cold and she looks really sad, maybe because she’s so depressed. Then, presto!, she has apparently taken this drug, which renders everything blindingly bright and cheery. Now, instead of Finland, it looks like the Hamptons or some such place and she has a boyfriend. He seems as bland and boring as the beach and I imagine that they’ll argue on the jitney back into the city.
Another ad for the drug that I found on YouTube lists the side-effects. They reinforced to me that I’d rather stroll the beach in Yyteri, Finland. The pie turned out great.
Sometimes I feel like I’m having a crappy day and as if I’m being pulled in a million different directions. Scared and almost pulled apart. Thank goodness for friends!
I remember when I was much younger and older relatives and other adults would express shock and horror at the clothes and actions and poor taste of younger people. Sometimes in an effort to explore and push the envelope, both natural activities, kids just miss the mark terribly. And adults say, “Not in my house” or “My mother would have…” When I came home on break from college once with blond hair my father just cried. I didn’t understand.
Enter Marche Taylor, an otherwise lovely Texas senior who was denied entry into her prom for trying to wear the Category 5 disaster below to the event. She was subsequently handcuffed, presumably for causing some ruckus in addition to obvious crimes of fashion. The most amazing thing to me is that she proudly models the dress for a news crew. Sadly, it kind of looks like she was sleeping au naturel when her house caught fire and she pulled down some drapery as she fled.
I should be in bed, but who can sleep when Whitney, the human sized one, just won the latest cycle of America’s Next Top Model? So I’m flossing my teeth and writing instead. My teeth are having a photo shoot. Look, it’s, like, season ten or something of that originally original show and I still watch it every week, without shame. Or fail. It’s possible that I need help. Executive produced and hosted by Tyra Banks, the show has seeped into every area of my consciousness.
For example, last night at orchestra we were rehearsing the first movement of the Bach E major violin concerto with soloist and leader Jennifer Frautschi. There were four basses playing - way too large for a baroque piece. So Ms. Frautschi, as was her wont, dismissed half of them. My first thought? Standing before me I have four very talented bassists. But I only have two photos in my hand…
I wonder what line Starbooty star RuPaul will use to dismiss contestants.
I think Philip Glass is the final cylon on Battlestar Galactica. Just a thought. Because I’ve just realized that the whole hybrid jibber jabber is straight from Einstein on the Beach, minus the newspaper reading. You Battlestar Galacticans will understand. And check this guy out. He got in the tub for his impersonation. But should he really be fiddling with electronic equipment while submerged in the tub? Regardless, what a world. Hard core.
I am watching Dynasty Season Two episode one, that delicious episode in which Alexis first arrives on the scene as the surprise witness at Blake’s trial. This, my favorite TV show as a kid, is why it’s not entirely true when I say that I didn’t have gay role models growing up. Speaking of, watching is making me remember things. Hideous, gay, things! Like that I had two gerbils, Alexis and Sable, and that I would hold one in each hand and pretend that they were fighting. Or that I played the theme quite handily on the piano.
But for all the cat fighting, diva behavior, questionable dialogue, and bad 80s fashion, to my mind it is better than the crap on TV now. Personally, it taught me that gay people could fall in love (hello, Steven and Luke) and that black folks could be rich and eat in fancy restaurants and nearly burn to death in cheesy nightclubs. Is anyone learning anything from Farmer Wants a Wife?
My stimulus check has come… and gone. It went to bills, a few essentials, an antique leather doctor’s bag on eBay (fingers crossed), and a new pair of shoes, which I actually quite needed. They are sensible shoes, so I don’t feel in the least guilty. Yesterday during lunch I went to the Puma store on Union Square, but all their shoes now seem to be made in conjunction with another retailer or show or something. I didn’t want “Yo! MTV Raps” or Ducati Pumas so I left, rather annoyed, and took myself over to Shoegasm, where I was successful in stimulating the economy with the purchase of a pair of New Balance sneakers. Apparently, one can run in them.
Some things I love, despite the fact that they are completely pointless and useless. Take my cats and Today Show semi-hostess Ann Curry. Though she may not be with us long. They are intent on getting rid of her in not-so-subtle ways, whether it’s forcing her to go skydiving or sending her to the seemingly doomed and deadly Quantum of Solace set.
Anyway, my new favorite pointless and useless thing is this cell phone - what shall we call it - caddy.
I’m watching Law & Order. Sometimes, like just now, the detectives get uppity and the captain has to yell “You are out of order! In my office now!” Anyway, this Verizon Fios commercial was just on, too. I think cats and women everywhere should be up in arms.
