In my next life, I’m going to have a voice like Ms. Erykah’s, trust! Bought the new album, for $9.98, from Target on Saturday after chowing down on rice & beans, scallops & plantains, at Versailles. I’m trying to take in each of the 11 tracks, one at a time, as it seems that every song – or should I say “episode” – consists of a million layers. She’s kind of major. Always has been. If you listen closely to her live album from back in the day, you might hear me screaming, in full-on fan mode, in the background.
I’m wondering why I can’t stop watching The Wire. Marlo’s catching bricks, Templeton’s temple of lies is about to crumble, Michael clipped Snoop and is now on the run. Oh, and who would have thunk that Kima would turn out to be a snitch and that Bubbles would wind up clean and sober and answering to his government name, Reginald (which, as a sidebar, would have been my name if I’d been born a boy). I can barely wait until Sunday’s finale, which I did try to access on On Demand and was nicely shut down by the folks at HBO. What will I do until then? Um, like, continue watching reruns, I suppose.
Went for a lovely, little nature stroll this morning before diving into work. Gazing at the grass and trees and listening to the birds is the best way to start one’s day before plugging into the Matrix. It’s almost 80 degrees in LaLa and I have NO complaints. Went to Venice the other day and just sat on the sand for a while, listening to the waves. It’s on these days that I vow never to live anywhere else. Unfortunately, that all gets tossed out the window whenever I’m stuck in for-no-good-reason freeway traffic or have to fight to find parking at my neighborhood Trader Joe’s! But those are luxury problems, I know.
By the way, it’s been almost a year since I gave up soda and still, no city-sponsored parade to celebrate my coupe. How is that possible? Sadly, I can’t seem to make those “6-8 glasses of water” a part of my daily life, which is a mission I’ve been chasing since I was in high school. WHEN will I ever be able to do it? Is it just me or is that the hardest thing to do every, single day? I fall off my H20 game on such a regular basis that I’m embarrassed. I feel like the Water Gods are somewhere shaking their heads at me.
I missed Hillary (code name: “The Hater”) making fun of herself on SNL last weekend, but I’m still so gagged about her antics during the last debate. It seems as though her entitlement issues are eating her up from the inside. Barack remains as cool as a refrigerated cucumber that just received a shot of mist in the produce section. That Farrakhan questioning was killer, though, remember? Denounce, reject…tomato, tomato. I must, finally, get to the Newsweek cover story on wifey, Michelle, which has been at the top of my ‘must read’ list for a week now. For the record, I think she would look a-mazing with a center-part in her hair, but I know there are bigger issues at hand. Also, just got my New York mag in the mail today (thanks, Courtney!) and Chelsea is the cover girl.
Wonder how the numbers will add up tomorrow night? Hmmm…
Have to do expenses (boo!) and a gang of transcribing (yaawwwn, stretch). I wish there was a way to get through the tedious stuff with just a wave of my magic wand. No dice. Life calls, I need to pick up…and sound cheerful, like I mean it.