06/28/2002

Currently Listening To: Sonic Youth, "Goo". Proving once again that I'm stuck in my own past musically. (And therefore these copy-protected CDs that don't play in the computer aren't even going to put a tiny little dent in my iTunes playlist. Muahahaha.)

Currently Reading: Alison Weir, "The Six Wives of Henry VIII." And it sucked to be them, mostly.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Are You Pondering What I'm Pondering?

I've been in such an overwhelmingly foul mood for most of the day that I really shouldn't be writing now. But what the hell. People seem to like me most when I'm cranky, anyhow. So here you go:

*Why do some parents believe the "Please Don't Touch" signs adorning the "party animals" (pictured above and in the last entry) must refer to anyone but their own little precious snookums, who's making them chuckle indulgently as it clambers all over the damn things? Can people not fucking read anymore, or have they just surrendered the last pretense of caring?

*Why in the holy blue hell does it matter if Americans don't care about soccer? Of all the stupid non-issues that get lots of play in the newspapers for no apparent reason, this is definitely one of the most recent.

I'm going to make you care about dolls right now. It's vitally important to me that you like everything I like. So, dolls. If you don't like them, you should. They're pretty. If you can find ones from the 60s and 70s in good condition, they make great little retro-looking conversation pieces. Do you like them yet? No? Why not? Why aren't you running out to the stores right now? I don't understand. You must be unsophisticated. There must be something wrong with you that dolls don't appeal to you.

See? Isn't that silly?

*Why are John Turturro and Steve Buscemi playing second banana to Adam Sandler? That's just wrong. I know it's because Sandler commands big movie bucks and they don't. But ... why?

*Why do people care about Eminem, Britney Spears and J-Lo? Even without actually seeking out any information about them, I probably know more about those three than I know about many of my relatives.

*And while I'm sort of on the subject, why does Britney adorn the cover of almost every haircut magazine I looked through recently? She doesn't even have good hair. It's just sorta long and overbleached and stringy-looking to me. I can't imagine taking that picture to a hairdresser and saying "Do that." I can overbleach my hair all by myself.

*Why are we paying our vets thousands of dollars only to have them steadfastly refuse to help us make decisions? Is there some recent trend in veterinarian school towards being as wishy-washy as possible when presenting options to a patient? "Well, you could do Procedure A or Procedure B. But no, I'm absolutely not going to tell you which one I think is better. Not even if you hold a gun to my head. You decide. What do you think would be better for the cat?"

What the hell? You're the fucking vet -- you tell me.

(In case you're wondering, we're having that issue right now over poor Cleo cat, not Rascal. She's been sick with some kind of liver condition but we don't know what kind, and knowing what to do next would be easier if our vet were to be decisive about it. She's a sweet lady who's great with all our cats, but goddamn this makes me mad.)

(And yes, the Cleo situation has a lot to do with my horrible mood today.)

The next entry.

Previously, in Insomniaville...

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