Back to Diaryland

the latest waddle:

good morning, wordpress - 10:36 a.m. , 2009-07-03

elaborate murder attempt - 2:56 p.m. , 2009-07-01

building a tractor in the basement - 10:42 a.m. , 2009-06-19

ask no questions tell just a few lies - 3:17 p.m. , 2009-06-09

my long lasting flavor really lasts long - 1:10 p.m. , 2009-06-04

2001-03-27 ... 01:24 p.m.

I've decided that today I'm going to ramble on and on and alienate a large chunk of my so-called "audience," that is, those of you who, like me, read web journals when you have nothing better to do. I've been reading a lot of web journals today, and a whole lot of people whose writing I like and respect have entries dealing with the recent Oscars. I'm not dissing anyone for being interested in the Oscars (god knows some of the things I'm interested in, such as the sea cucumber and a pantsless Al Gore, are by no means highbrow), but I guess I'm kind of surprised that this is relevant to so many people. I was like, They are still giving out Oscars? People still care about who wins an Oscar? People still watch the Oscars?

(Hmm, looks like in many cases they don't.)

I just hate movies, but that's my own personal problem and I've ranted about it before. Go ahead and watch the Oscars, I won't love you any less.

You say I haven't alienated you yet? Okay, I'll try again. You know what's worse than movies? Theater. Specifically, big-budget Broadway theater where they take a Disney movie and make a play out of it. Or adapt some horrible old movie musical for the stage (apparently both Fame and Saturday Night Fever have recently been made into stage plays. Why? she asks, weeping and rending her garment. Why god, why?). Or a lot of rhythmic stomping for $32 a ticket, or that creepy Irish dance thing where people flail their legs around like puppets. Or an Andrew Lloyd Weber monstrosity wherein a bunch of buttmunches on roller skates pretend that they are trains. I mean really. Are you so desperate for entertainment that this is OKAY with you? I seriously would rather eat paste than prostitute my brain by sitting through all that Broadway crap.

Mmm, paste.

Speaking of food that yet is not food (like Yahweh or Yoda, I speak in riddles), the inventor of the Slim Jim Dried Beef Snack has died. He had a big-ass New York Times obituary. Only fitting, considering the weight of his contribution.

More later, perhaps. I ought to be able to do better than this, but there's a lot going on and I'm completely overwhelmed.

(By "overwhelmed," of course, I mean "drunk.")

---mimi smartypants


join my Notify List and get email when I update my site:
Powered by