First, I read about the Pussycat Dolls making a reality show to choose the 7th Doll. I can’t even google for a link to this; when I did it the first time there were so many shows dedicated to keeping me in touch with reality TV I became mired. Just take my word for it. Would I make this shit up? Next to Tyra Banks becoming the poster girl for self-esteem and body image (oh she’s proud, y’all, that’s why she’s in her girdle on the cover of People) it’s the most ridiculous oh I can’t even just stop it can’t you?<\/p>\n
Then, I turned on the TV at 1:15 (pm) and it was on channel 3, which is the CBC, which is, apparently, the Land that Quality Forgot; there was a show called Living Vancouver which I have encountered and ignored in the past (it’s only been on for a couple of weeks) because it was banal and offered nothing in the way of relevance but it was just beginning a segment entitled “How to Train Your Husband” and I kept watching even though I knew it would make my blood boil but I didn’t expect that, at the end, after the woman’s husband brought her breakfast in bed, she would say, “Praise him, praise him, praise him like a small child or a dog! Or else, he’ll NEVER DO IT AGAIN!” or that I would react to this like an allergic person reacts to freshly mown grass or peanut butter, namely I puffed up and couldn’t breathe.<\/p>\n
When I ventured to the website of the TV show to see if there was a comments section and if so, if I would be able to submit a photograph of myself all puffed up and out of breath to make my point because words weren’t going to cut it this time, no, I don’t think so, I found that not only did the story in question not have a comments section but below the story in question, directly, was a link to a Bed and Breakfast package at a local hotel – oh, you say, so what, well, it’s for your DOG it’s a goddamn bed and breakfast package at a really fucking expensive hotel for your fucking DOG because at least HE brings you a hard boiled egg when you ask for it oh wait NO HE DOESN’T, that’s your HUSBAND<\/p>\n
…and then I lost what was left of my mind, which, as you know, was about an iota’s pinky-full anyway so, you know, no great puddle of spilt milk there.<\/p>\n
And another thing. If any of you ever sees me write something like yesterday’s entry without a caveat at the end like Knock Wood!<\/b> or So Far! LOL!<\/b> could you kindly find some way to kick my ass. Yes, even all y’all who live far from me and wouldn’t know my ass from a Coldplay song. I KNOW the rules. I know the baby never keeps doing the good thing it’s doing once you acknowledge it. And I got cocky. It won’t happen again.<\/p>\n
PS: The Wedge<\/a> is playing as I type this. The Wedge is playing Mad World<\/i> as done by Michael Andrews. Goddamned gorgeous. And now – Radiohead, No Surprises.<\/i> The second Radiohead song in 30 minutes. I have almost a visceral reaction to Radiohead sometimes, like if I could claw out my pancreas and chew off my ears I would because it’s so beautiful I can’t stand it. Damn. Thanks, The Wedge. I may not swear at all tomorrow.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" First, I read about the Pussycat Dolls making a reality show to choose the 7th Doll. I can’t even google for a link to this; when I did it the first time there were so many shows dedicated to keeping … Continue reading