Prarie home campanion

Dooce, for all her annoying use of ALL CAPITAL LETTERS, does find some fun shit on the Internet. I wish my job was to surf the Web all day. Oh wait ....

Those of you who know me well will recognize this saying as one of my personal favorites. In fact, in some cases, it may be the first thing out of my mouth when we meet (Ken).

Skinny hater

The ball of fire received the cutest pair of camo jeans for his birthday. I'll admit, I was envious.

Today while I was diligently (ahem) working on some freelance copy, I decided to check out some favorite stores for a pair of camo jeans in a mommy-friendly size. I thought they would look cute with the new Dr. Marten Mary Janes I'll purchase with my freelance cash.

I stopped by Gap and Banana Republic. No luck.

Inspiration struck. Urban Outfitters. Of course!

Then I saw it. Right there in the jeans section. Skinny jeans. And not just skinny jeans, but those God awful Jordache-looking-tight-around-the-ankles-80s-flashback skinny jeans.

Damnit, I just threw up in my mouth a little.

I fucking hate retro sometimes.

They are speaking my language

Recently I had the great honor to see my friend Bob (the greatest actor in the world) in a local production of "Laughter on the 23rd Floor."

Bob is a lucky fellow. He found something that he loves to do, he's damn good at it, and he does it as often as possible. But he's also found a fabulous group of friends who share his passion so he gets the opportunity to work with them again and again.

I had seen "Laughter" a few years ago when it was a movie starring one of my all-time favs, Nathan Lane.

There's just something about live shows that make it better. For example, there is a particular scene where a Russian character is trying to tell another character to go fuck himself. Of course it comes out oddly due to his bolshevick accent. To which the other man replies, "A person can't be an American until they can say 'Go Fuck Yourself.' "

Now anyone who knows me also knows that "go fuck yourself" is my signature line. (Ken, you know.) So it elicits my highest praise and gratitude to hear it so blithely used in such a manor.

It also reminds me that I too am pretty lucky to have found my own passion, my own brand of dramatic interpretation. I am an artist in the truest sense of the word. I explore every aspect of my trade from the flouncy florish of a short story to the droll drudgery of a corporate piece. But it's in the fuckery of it all that I really excel.

God, but I do love the English language!