Cracklin' Rose

Listening to: Roman Vice - The History Channel

That title has no connection with this entry, but I'd T'vo'd Oprah and she's all about the Oscars and it's now my white noise as I try to update this blogigo. Makes me kinda sad, because I haven't seen ANY of these movies. I have no idea who these people are. Felicity Huffman came on and I had to call my best friend Lu. "I thought the Oscars were for movies. Did they expand to television?"

"OhmyGAWD," she shrieked, "You are so stupid. You gotta know who Jake Gylleennnhaalll is. The guy who fucked Heath Ledger? Donny Darko? Jesus. Does J ever let you leave the farm?!"

Because I am that far out of touch with popular culture.

Except for my latest and greatest pretend boyfriend Vincent D'Onofrio. C'mon y'all. Give Vincent your love. Can we get a whoop whoop? Awwwww yeaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh. Soulful, intelligent eyes? Check. Sculptured lips? Check. Cute as a button nose? Check, check, check.

But I'm not all about the physical. God! What, you think I'm shallow? (ignore the slam on Rique and Love below) The guy can act. He's got the chops. Gomer Pyle? (No, not that one. this one.) Thor the God of Thunder/car mechanic in The Adventures of Babysitting? Edgar? From Men in Black? Surely you remember! But most recently? Detective Bobby Goren of Law and Order's Criminal Intent. I know, I know, but give it a chance!! You'll be hooked and pretty soon you'll be all, ""Fuck American Idol. I want to see Bobby battle Nicole Wallace again!"

Okay, so you watch Law and Order: Criminal Intent for the first time and you think, that guy's kinda weird. And tall. Then you give it another chance because it's on all the freakin' time and you're suffering from insomnia, and slowly you start to get into this character. Before you know it your T'vO has 25 LOCI's that you have to watch (over and over and over), you're a member of the Bobby Goren fanfic sites (hush now), you start rattling off details about his life, and then before you know it, your husband starts poorly imitating Detective Goren's halting speech pattern (calling him the James T. Kirk of NYPD), his gangly walk (which, J? JUST LIKE YOURS), and it's then that you realize that he's jealous, which is kinda sexy.  So thank you very much LOCI and more specifically Vincent, for helping him remember just what a damn great catch I am. What else do you realize? That LOCI has replaced your Buffy obsession, and that you desperately need a hobby outside USA (now accepting characters!).

Where was I?

Oh yeah, where I've been for the past monthish. Busy. Fighting depression, writing the next great American novel, trying my damndest to keep my kids healthy, but failing miserably, especially when it comes to Rosie. I just can't get that girl's snot to stop flowing. Currently we're suffering a reaction to MMR, a double ear infection, and the cutting of molars. It's like fun, only not. Especially the part where for the past 3 days she's been waking up every 2 hours during the night to scream, play for an hour, and then scream again. Lather, rinse, repeat.

The depression. It's a bitch. A bitch that hates laundry, getting out of bed, and finding the motivation to shower. J seems to think it's the laundry problem that's causing the depression. Silly man. Clean underwear; the new prozac. I have a problem convincing him that it might be a symptom of something a bit more serious. But then, he's terminally happy. I don't think it's in him to understand the blahness that comes with depression. But whatever, point is I've gots a depression that needs dealin' with. More on that later.

Great American Novel(la). I've got pages and a strong idea of who the hero is. Unfortunately, what I don't have is a plot. Word on the street is, plots are kind of... needed if one is to publish. Still, I press ahead with whatever tidbits my characters are giving me. Plot will come. Maybe. Or perhaps I should write porn. Do porn writers sit around and wonder what their characters are going to do? I think not.

Or maybe they do. Porn writers, set me straight.