1. Why am I Facebook friends with jerky conservatives I was never even friends with in high school? One girl’s status this morning was “Still makes me smile when I think about Scott Brown’s win! Way to go Massachusetts!!” To which another classmate replied, “Me too!!! We The People WILL INDEED TAKE THIS COUNTRY BACK!!!!!!” And all I can think is YOU THE PEOPLE HAD THIS COUNTRY FOR EIGHT FRICKING YEARS. IT’S OUR TURN NOW. And then I think, TOO BAD THE DEMOCRATS ARE DICKTRIPPING BUMBLEFUCKWITS WHO SHOULDN’T BE ALLOWED TO CATSIT OR HANDLE POINTY THINGS, after which I mutter and seethe and look at baby animal Xanax to settle myself down, like this:
2. I am officially bored by the late night wars. I suppose my initial sympathies were with Conan, just because he’s tall and brainy and dry, which is enough to make me date a guy, (but not, apparently, enough to watch a guy’s late night TV show, no matter what it’s called or when it’s on). Leno’s just too Velveeta-Everyman for me, in bed (I’d imagine, although I really don’t want to), as in commentary and comedy. (And eww, why am I picturing these late night yuksters naked? It’s like a bad dream where you get all gropey with your Driver’s Ed teacher, a man with sansabelt coach’s shorts and a blond-grey backwards combover.) But enough already. These overpaid joke-hounds are taking up a disproportionate amount of space in my brain and I don’t even watch any of them. Just call me Team Past-My-Bedtime.
3. I am afraid of this face. She’s 23, but she looks twice that, like a living version of bad photoshop. And, although I think she’s a loathsome little fame-bot I’d like to delete from my knowledge bank, with her look-at-me, guns-and-jesus, demi-porn twittery, I am sad to say that I now feel something that passes for kinship with her. Sigh. I hate these sudden shots of empathy for celebudrones, because it’s just so much easier to hate, but what can I say? She makes me feel all squidgy inside, like I’m looking at what happens when the inner eighth grader who lives inside most girls can’t quiet the voices in her head that tell her she’s not good enough, not pretty enough, not worthy or wantable. Damn you, plastic-Heidi for making me feel something for hurty, artificial you.
What about you? Who have you had to hide from on Facebook? Do you watch the late night shows and have you picked a side? Would you undergo ten hours of plastic surgery for double-Ds and a fakey face? What about two hours of surgery to look a little fresher, more like the person you still expect to see in the mirror?