I'll see you in hell, NaBloPoMo.
I am not usually one to discuss news or current events in this space.
Mostly because I am pretty self-absorbed.
However, sometimes a story is just SO huge that a person can’t not bring it up.
And I don’t mean the Barry Bonds thing, because, let’s face it, unless they make being a sac de douche a felony, he won’t spend day one in the hoosegow.
I think a few months of him having to watch his own huge acne-riddled back in the shower would be good for him.
What I am, of course, talking about is Lindsay Lohan and the rough 84 minute stretch that she did in the pokey.
Why not just make her sit through a screening of JUST MY LUCK? It is 103 minutes long and twice as painful.
In tribute to poor LL, here is a short list of things that I have spent more than 84 minutes doing:
- Your mom. (Come on. It was too easy. And just sitting there. Like your mom.)
- Showering. (I once sang the entirety of Journey’s Greatest Hits and didn’t get out until the hot water heater spit the bit.)
- Crafting an e-mail reply to Clink describing how I feel about Anna Friel on “Pushing Daisies.” (I apparently know a lot of different ways to say “I LOVE her.”)
- Trying to get sideburns even.
- Playing Scrabulous on Facebook (x1000)
- Learning to play “Sister Golden Hair” on guitar. And then never picking one up again.
- Trying unsuccessfully to forget that my mother’s cell ringtone is “My Humps.”
- Sitting in a jail cell. (When I was a kid, my grandfather was the local jailer. He used to lock us in for fun. And sometimes got sidetracked before letting us out.)
- Pondering why Lo doesn’t get more burn on “The Hills.”
- Trying to convince myself to hit “publish” on this. Stupid NaNoBloMo. It makes everything seem like a chore that you don’t want to do, yet feel obligated to.
Like your Mom.