Dear Diary,
Oh my god, how cute is every single thing on this page?
I'm glad to see it; for a while there Old Navy was really pushing the flouncy gypsy look that I just don't stand behind. And accessories are all I will have going for me for the next, oh, year or so, because it turns out that I have fallen pregnant.
But more on that later. Right now I need to concentrate on not barfing up the McChicken sandwich I just scarfed...
Love,
Fluffy
26.2.08
Like, at least 14k.
Dear Diary,
So I am reading that Paris Hilton is now dating Benji Madden, the twin (identical, unhappily for him) brother of Nicole Richie's baby daddy.
And all I can think is: reality show GOLD. And that's probably what they and all their managers are thinking as well.
Can't wait! It just better not coincide with the Real Housewives or Celebrity Rehab.
Love,
Fluffy
So I am reading that Paris Hilton is now dating Benji Madden, the twin (identical, unhappily for him) brother of Nicole Richie's baby daddy.
And all I can think is: reality show GOLD. And that's probably what they and all their managers are thinking as well.
Can't wait! It just better not coincide with the Real Housewives or Celebrity Rehab.
Love,
Fluffy
25.2.08
Oscar Bits
Dear Diary,
I was able to catch a bit of the Oscars last night...
- I'm wondering whether Harrison Ford was drunk or having a stroke. At his age, I guess it's hard to tell.
- Um, Diablo Cody? Mrs. Roper called, and she wants her dress back. Just get it dry-cleaned first.
- Hello, Cameron Diaz? Sweetie, it's customary for people presenting at the Oscars to actually get their hair done. By a professional.
That's all for now.
Love,
Fluffy
I was able to catch a bit of the Oscars last night...
- I'm wondering whether Harrison Ford was drunk or having a stroke. At his age, I guess it's hard to tell.
- Um, Diablo Cody? Mrs. Roper called, and she wants her dress back. Just get it dry-cleaned first.
- Hello, Cameron Diaz? Sweetie, it's customary for people presenting at the Oscars to actually get their hair done. By a professional.
That's all for now.
Love,
Fluffy
12.2.08
Radio Reverie
Dear Diary,
This morning on my commute I took a break from my usual diet of NPR to peruse the stations. Ahh, Pink Floyd's Comfortably Numb. Reminds me of studying for trig in high school with my friend Mary Ann, most likely smoking something or other. A great song, to be sure: haunting, beautiful. But then that unfortunate guitar solo snaps me back to reality. Why ruin a good song with that sort of nonsense? I'll never understand it.
And then, then... INXS. Need You Tonight. I remember being 12 years old and hopelessly smitten with Michael Hutchence, wearing my mint green Forenza sweater (or perhaps it was my blue Benetton rugby shirt?) peroxided blonde hair with big bangs, driving in the car with my mother and listening to that song, and her saying something to the effect of, "Do I have to hear about this person sweating?" (For the record, she still bought me tickets to see them when I was 13. Good thing, too. I surely would have died if she hadn't let me go.)
Love,
Fluffy
This morning on my commute I took a break from my usual diet of NPR to peruse the stations. Ahh, Pink Floyd's Comfortably Numb. Reminds me of studying for trig in high school with my friend Mary Ann, most likely smoking something or other. A great song, to be sure: haunting, beautiful. But then that unfortunate guitar solo snaps me back to reality. Why ruin a good song with that sort of nonsense? I'll never understand it.
And then, then... INXS. Need You Tonight. I remember being 12 years old and hopelessly smitten with Michael Hutchence, wearing my mint green Forenza sweater (or perhaps it was my blue Benetton rugby shirt?) peroxided blonde hair with big bangs, driving in the car with my mother and listening to that song, and her saying something to the effect of, "Do I have to hear about this person sweating?" (For the record, she still bought me tickets to see them when I was 13. Good thing, too. I surely would have died if she hadn't let me go.)
Love,
Fluffy
6.2.08
Separated at birth?
Dear Diary,
On the left: John McCain.
On the right: Frankenstein.
Seriously, has anyone ever seen him move his head?
Love,
Fluffy
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