excerpt from The Bonfire of the Vanities by Tom Wolfe

sorry bookpimp but it's really not my fault.

two weeks after buying my first ipod, I purchased my second ipod at the apple store in st paul's atrocity of america. this would be because 9 days after buying my first ipod, apple released a newer and bigger ipod for a mere $100 more and as I like to say when dealing in such matters, they're giving them away. So now instead of 5gb I have 10gb of space and instead of having 1000 songs I have 2000.

the first thing marty asked was where i planned on getting the extra 100 bucks. i was happy to report that my wedding ring already drew an impressive $135 on ebay.

every year i watch the oscars and every year i get up from the table pissed off. while some good things happened (finally) i still must somehow digest the fact that  Pearl Horrible left the night with an award and Amelie did not.

i'm sorry but like halle, i can't continue.

a year ago i wrote about how i did not know how to write about the birth of my first child. now i sit here struggling for some bit or piece from the last year in attempt to define the experience in some well constructed and better presented paragraph. this exercise of reflection is nearing the two week mark and i think i need to capitulate the matter accepting that a pithy comment encapsulating be...

while filling my cup with water from the drinking fountain yesterday at work, i heard a toilet flush in the bathroom next to me. as i listened to that i watched the water pressure from the spigot i was using droop to nothing and then chug its way back to form a few moments later. i'm perfectly comfortable saying i would very much like to see a little more disconnectedness with my drinking water and an unseen person's bowel movement.

this landed in my inbox the other day. it's safe to say that i haven't felt more intrigued by an event for many events.

i forgot to mention that, at the betty ford clinic, they have 'the cable'.

in the event that you are ever speaking with me and i say that i just returned from the betty ford clinic, i'm not referring to the institution proper, but instead my parents' new home. in answer to your next question, i call it this for two reasons.

first, their new home sits out in the middle of nowhere on a gob of acres and the only thing you can see all around are woods and trees and foresty looking horizons which makes one feel like they are in some secluded drug rehab center for the privileged, not that i've ever been in drug rehab or mistaken for the privileged, but if i were either, i reckon this is what i'd expect it to look like.

the second reason i call my parents place the betty ford clinic is that the only other place it reminds me of is the evil killing guy's house from the 80's film manhunter (some may know it as the original silence of the lambs). this guy lived outside of st louis, just like my parents, in the middle of nowhere, just like my parents, and his house made funny noises in the middle of the night, just like my parents. in fact, i'm not totally unconvinced that my parents aren't living in this guy's place. i know it's vacant cuz william peterson waxed the evil guy at the end of manhunter so i know it was available for purchase and killing guys houses outside the metropolitan st louis area aren't the biggest in demand so chances of it being available were more than reasonable.

and, that is why i call my parents house the betty ford clinic. ultimately is just sounds better than saying i just got back from evil killing guys house. people might look at me oddly then and that just won't due.

carrie fisher (actress, writer)

i certainly hope i have demonstrated that when i see something i want, need, crave and covet i can whore up with the best of them. grail like in its majesty the shiny bauble now rests in my recently washed and thoroughly exfoliated hand. we've been unduly and unjustly kept from one another, but not again, never again, will i abandon you my sweet. i will carry you in your protective sheath near my heart, clipped at the waist or tucked in the man-purse but you will be on my person at all times. my living will is being adjusted as we speak and as of this moment i will never share my bed with another.

ok bookpimp, i'm done. i'm finally and exhaustively done.

the number of times the guy sitting in front of me on the metro touched his combover, trying to repair the havok caused by the wind: 7

bookguy
(and no one thought you would really do it. enjoy your faux retirement brother.)

and, oh yeah, happy birthday B.

in two days we celebrate bella's one-year birthday and in honor of this milestone, i will be reenacting the weekly rockefeller center updates for the month of march. and, in case it has been too long for any of you, that means that a new bella pic will be waiting for you each and every monday morning. i hope you enjoy them.