What a way to start off the year...my eye swollen shut and hives on my legs. An allergic reaction to something. Oh well. It's a good thing though, because now I have an excuse to not really do anything. While I really want to see my friend, since I haven't seen her in ages, I'd like to without the pressure of a holiday. Especially New Year's Eve. Everyone wants to start the year off with someone special, or even with someone not so special, just so long as it's spent with someone. So as the clock ticks down to the last minute, people are scrambling to find some stranger in an overcrowded, obnoxious bar just to find someone to kiss only to see that you're stuck with Charles Manson (or Leona Helmsly, depending on your sexual preference) and you're spending the rest of the year filling out paperwork for a restraining order. All that because everyone has this expectation to have a REALLY good time on New Year's Eve, and that it will somehow be magical if there's someone to kiss at midnight. Even if you're not stuck with some evildoer, and just find joe/jane shmoe to kiss and never see them again, does that really fulfill that aspiration for an auspicious new year? 'Hey I just made out with a complete stranger that I'm not at all attracted to, but had to do because it's midnight.' what does that portend for the new year? It can't be anything good. Don't get me wrong, I'm not against celebrating the hope for a propitious 2004, it's just the 'traditions' that turn people into desperate idiots that I'm against. All of my best new years eves (post high school) have been really mellow, with just a couple of friends and a lot of booze. If I go out with my girlfriend tonight, that will definitely not be the case. So I'm going to play sick(er). Here's to a promising and favorable 2004. Oh my god, Valentine's day is just around the corner... [1:11 PM] |

Tuesday, December 30, 2003

I went over to my mother's to drop off my dog while I ran some errands today. I heard one of her dogs had a huge bump in his ear, so I wanted to see how he was coping also. Apparently, while at the vet yesterday, they took out the thing in his ear, extracted two teeth, cut his nails, and took off his balls. My mother was livid. She loved his balls. He's 13+ years old, there's a reason she didn't whack them while he was younger. Well, she tried, but every single time she got to the vet, she couldn't bring herself to do it. Well, now they're gone, and she doesn't get to keep them. She actually asked to keep them. Go figure. So now my dog is freaked out as this frankensteined dog is keeps coming after her with a huge satellite dish on his head. It's really funny, but kind of tragic funny, but entertaining to watch nonetheless. Needless to say, I haven't done anything I was supposed to because I'm amusing myself by watching this little train wreck. I'm a sick, sick girl. [2:56 PM] |

Monday, December 29, 2003

Yeah, it sucks, but at least it's not San Francisco, which is like being in a huge, indoor mall without the central heating, filled with perpetual adolescents who share a scornful attitude toward Mainstream america. Whatever. I'm not there, so I don't care. So I will be spending my New Year festivities in LA. Honestly, I don't know if I can stay up that late, but my ideal holiday would be to get to sleep by 10pm, get up wicked early and go to the Rose Bowl Parade (my aunt lives on the route, so I'd stay with her in her swank abode), then head over to the patriarch's family to indulge in traditional Japanese New Year's festivities, which may or may not include: pounding rice to make glutinous rice cakes (although it sounds otherwise, they are very yummy, but they end up plugging you up, so you have to have your roughage also), fighting over who gets the fish eyes (they're good luck), public drunkedness (everyone has to drink a cup of sake when they get there. And if you get there early, you end up drinking a cup with everyone. Hilarity ensues soon after), Indescribable food with questionable ingredients (what kind of balls?), and lots of yelling men during all of the bowl games. New Year's is undoubtedly the only holiday that I actually enjoy with the father's side of the family. Everyone is so drunk and jolly (even the kids), that no one has the inclination to harp on your soon-to-be middleaged spinsterism or lack of a decent job. Let's hope tradition remains the same. [12:54 PM] |

Wednesday, December 24, 2003

I often forget that the executive producers of Los Angeles have made it so the weather is always temperate, with very little atmospheric discomfort. So here I am in the Northern area of the country freezing what I thought was my well insulated tuckus off. Just think if I would have tried to visit friends on the East Coast: Jerksicle! I've become a weather-wuss, but I need to learn to suck it up if I plan to move to the Pacific Northwest in the upcoming years. You'd think I would have been used to it, living in San Francisco with no heat for so many years. But alas, I have returned to my Angeleno ways...One of us, one of us. Yes, I've officially turned into a freak. And here I thought I was doing a great job of storing for the winter. Plenty of fatty food, rich in carbohydrates, never shaving. What have I been doing to keep myself warm up here? Making jam. Yes, everybody is getting jam for Christmas. I'm such a cheap bastard. [2:38 PM] |

Tuesday, December 23, 2003

As I was looking at my calendar and eating pancakes that I pretty much deep fried in butter, I realized what my Christmas gift from our lord savior was going to be...Merry Christmas, you're not pregnant! Ho ho ho! I guess our lord savior doesn't say ho ho ho, does he? Maybe he does when he makes commentary about my promiscuous habits? Rather, my former promiscuous habits? Habit...hm...Maybe that's the next outfit to invest in, the little school girl is starting to get stale. Anyway, yes, on X-mas, I should be expecting my uterus to be weeping tears of disappointment, while I wipe my brow in relief. Not like I have anything to worry about. Force of habit from previous experience I guess. If I have anything to worry about, it's the fact that if I were carrying, I'd be bearing the second coming or the anti-christ, and my guess would be the latter. Lets cross our fingers it's not either and that the world will be safe from another religious confrontation other than those that show on TNN at midnight starring Dolph Lundgren. And have a happy holiday. [12:26 PM] |

Monday, December 22, 2003

I used to call my car "Bill". Now, I think I'm changing the name to "Christine". Granted, I'm not wild about my car, but it's a decent ride, and it works especially well for the dog. I've always treated it well and made sure it was healthy, but lately, I think it's been trying to kill me. Either that, or it's trying to really really annoy me, which it has been. Here's the deal: For the past three or four months, my car has constantly been shocking me, literally. No matter what, when I step out of the car, I get a shock with the next thing I touch, usually the car door as I close it. I try to close it with my jacket, only to be shocked opening another door, even minutes later! Now, it's gotten to the point where there is an actual visual arc of electricity when I touch something. I've tried different seat covers, sheepskin, vinyl, synthetic, nothing at all. It's not like I'm rubbing my booty all around when I drive. I put a wet towel on the floor, and I have rubber mats. Nothing happens to me when I'm in the car, although a couple of times there was a spark when I put the key to the ignition, scaring me even more. I'm so afraid to pump gas. Nothing happens to passengers, just me, leading me to believe Bill, I mean, Christine is after me, and only me. And I'm racking my brain to figure out why. Do cars have three month long periods? Is she mad that I'm not getting any? Or if I was, I wasn't doing it in the car? Is it because I drive like an old lady? Is she absorbing all of by bitterness and rage and sending it back to me as punishment? Maybe she hates that all I listen to is NPR and the Prairie Home Companion? But I'm telling you, if she wants to kill me, I'm taking her with me too. [11:50 PM] |

Saturday, December 20, 2003

...shows you nobody beats Jerky when it comes to pathetic. But things are starting to look up now that school's over for a bit. Soon I get to look forward to more of that stress but even more challenging. Well, at least the kids will be 21 instead of 20. And I know that my readership is up to two, not counting Kitty's other personalities. It's funny, the ex gets to read all of my dirt on a semi-regular basis, but he doesn't have nutsack enough to say I can't come up to pick up some of my stuff because there's going to be another girl around? Come on, who's he fooling? It's really no big deal, let me get my stuff already! We haven't been together for over a year, and it's been many many years since we've been sexually attracted to each other, so whathefu? Just because I'm single doesn't mean he has to be too. Move on my friend, move on. Sure, one of these days I'd like a boyfriend again (I say that now, just wait until I get one, then it's complain complain complain.), but right now my priorities say trolling for manmeat isn't at the top. And honestly, I can't picture myself with a Los Angelino. Too much trouble, it's like having a kid, and I read the Nanny Diaries, kids are a pain in the ass. So, I think I'll try and post once more before I go away for the holidays, but if not, have a good one. But that also depends when Hanukkah and Ramadan are, because if those holidays run different that Christmas, than forget what I said, because I might be around for those holidays, depending on what date they fall. But I'm not religious at all, so why I'm subscribing to one in particular is beyond me. I guess I'm a sheep. Still trying to figure out plans for the New Year, either be bitterly single with one of my oldest (oldest, as knowing the longest, not oldest by age) friends, who is just as single as I, or bring in 2004 with the lost love of my life 1000 miles away, who may or may not be with someone else, and may or may not want to spend the rest of his life with me, leaving the whole notion of seeing him portentous with doom. And while not particularly superstitious, bringing in the new year with someone who you're not together with anymore for a reason before, may not be the best way to start the year. I'll keep you updated. [11:51 PM] |

Wednesday, December 17, 2003

Except all I have are fuzzy mittens, so you get kind of a wussy brush with mittens. But it's a challenge nonetheless! Further reasons as how I am more pathetic than Kitty: * I have simultaneous acne and wrinkles. * I am still occasionally mistaken for a little boy. * My pocket rocket is broken. * I'm really really excited about some yarn that I bought and can't wait to knit with it. * Not only is my head turning grey, so is my cootchie. I thought it was just cobwebs, but surprise! Grey cootchie hair! * I'm excited about school. * Either my butt cheeks are so big they've created a hermetic seal that won't let anything escape, or my sphincter has taken a vow of silence. Either way, I don't think I've pooped in like a week. Now who's full of shit? * I'm a really gross person. * While Pisser has a 17-lb beast, I have a 67-lb bear that likes to cannon-ball on me in the wee hours of the night. * You'd think that while being sick, I'd lose some weight, but no, just the opposite. I ate an entire box of pop tarts yesterday. AN ENTIRE BOX. * There are children EVERYWHERE. The world is being overrun by naughty, ill-behaved children and it's driving me insane. * I almost checked Dr. Phil's book out of the library. * 99% of the men that I date seem to be women with penises. If I wanted to be with a woman, I'd be a lesbian. * Being a lesbian is becoming an attractive alternative. * I left a very important study group to go see The Lord of the Rings. * I was the only one who didn't cry, but rather said, "what a pussy-ass bitch that guy is" [note: if you go see the movie, and you all probably will, make sure you empty your bladder beforehand, even dehydrate yourself, and not only eat before, but bring extra food. It's a really really long flick, and the geeks sitting next to you will get more irritated at your stomach growling than a phone ringing, because your stomach growling will freak them out thinking it's part of the film, making them jump out of their seats like little girls.] * I think my blog readership is down to one. [7:51 PM] |

Monday, December 15, 2003

More reasons why I'm more pathetic than Pissed Kitty: * I'm still running into things. * While at least most of you (you included, Pisser) have someone to snuggle with at night (Might not be sex, but it's something), I am snuggling with a gaseous, stinky, snoring dog, whose breath, as my mother says, resembles the smell of vagina. Don't ask. * 99% of the men that I have dated (you included, Trigger) have many many issues. * Too many cars like mine. While trying to get into my car at the Warner Brothers parking lot, I inadvertently set off the alarm, then realized, I don't have an alarm, and having security look at me suspiciously while trying to help me find my car. I don't know my own license plate number. * Projectile vomiting. For some reason, I just threw up in front of my house. I just burped and vomited, with absolutely no warning whatsoever. And I've been freaking out all day, thinking it was going to happen again. Damn ear infection. * I have full on conversations with my dog. And I take them seriously. * I have friends that want to start "sacred circles" and "the artist ways" gatherings. These same friends like to be really mean to our other friends behind their backs. I at least do it to their faces. * I have become sooooo Asian, that I'm really bummed that I'm getting 'B's in my classes. When I was really in school, that was like a major feat for me. * I'm becoming my grandmother. * Ass will no longer fit in my sweats. Thighs so big, my underwear cuts off my circulation at the legs. I had to cut the sides to widen them. * Found the man of my dreams today. Found out he works in film. Had to break off imaginary engagement. * The Kitty is leaving me soon, for too long to be with her family. But who will I bitch to? Some thankfulness in my life: * I got to hang out with Sebastian Bach of Skid Row today on set, and he admired my childhood crush on Shawn Cassidy. He's actually really funny, and a very nice guy to work with. * School is almost over and I'll have two months off. * I can hear out of my ear now. [10:14 PM] |

Another Holee Shit Moment. Worthwhile viewing. [10:12 PM] |

Last night I went out for coffee with a dog park boy (no, not THE hunky dog park boy, just a dog park boy). Let's just say it was doomed from the very beginning. After reluctantly agreeing to go, we get to the cafe only to have him slam the car door on my little finger. The entire nail is completely off. And very raw and sore. Then while sitting outside in the cold (the dogs were there), he spills his mocha-type drink on my dog. So she's sticky and wet. Luckily, his drink wasn't too hot, or I would have had to kick his ass. One of the drawbacks from dating dog park people is that you never realize what they really look like. You're usually looking at the dog, never the person. So as I was having my tea (still trying to cut down the coffee), I actually LOOKED at this person. And while he has one of the cutest puppies I've seen, he also has one of the biggest heads I've ever seen. I'm talking enormous. I mean his melon must weigh a ton. Putting him in a headlock would be like carrying a surfboard under your arm. You'd think with a cranium that size, he would be wicked smart. But he's not, not really. You'd think with all of that space inside his head...So what does he carry in that space? Is it like an overhead compartment that you can store your carry-on? Is he like Zeus about to bear Athena out of his head? What? WHAT? And that's all I could think about. Then he started talking about being in real estate, and ten minutes later I had the hokey-pokey going through my head for pretty much the rest of the evening. Ah, to be dating again.... [11:18 AM] |

Sunday, December 14, 2003

Screaming Yellow Zonkers give me a headache. It took an entire box in 30 minutes to come to that conclusion. [9:21 PM] |

Pissed asked me the other day, because of my ear infection, if my equilibrium was off. I told her I didn't think so, I'm just naturally always clumsy. But now that I think about it, I may be a little more wobbly than usual. Whereas, I usually bump a shoulder in a door jamb, I now find myself running face first into them instead. I've bloodied my nose twice in the past three days. This morning, I was turning a corner in my place, and turned a bit too soon, thus ramming my face into the wall. Not pleasant. Thank goodness no one was around, but I seriously think my dog was laughing at me. At the dog park, I fell a couple times today. I was just standing, and found myself toppling over like a felled tree. I think hunky dog park boy might think I'm an alcoholic. Either that, or that I'm not so subtly trying to touch him. Okay, granted, I would LIKE to touch him, but I can probably think of better ways to do so without falling. So I have one more strike with hunky dog park boy before it's all over. Although with farting and falling, I better think of something really good to make up for it. I baked some cookies once before, but he wasn't there, and I ended up pretty much getting attacked by the dogs because they could smell the food. Here's hoping I don't fall on anyone or break anything while meat-propping tomorrow. I'm standing in for some actor, so while they're setting up the shot with me, I'm going to be all wobbly and make everyone work really hard. It should be pretty funny, but I probably won't get called back to work that show again. Ouch. [7:57 PM] |

Saturday, December 13, 2003

As I take stock of what I've become, I'm thinking, " wow, I need to hoist myself off a bridge right now". Why you ask? Let me recount the ways... *My ear infection. I feel like ooze is dripping out of my ear (but it isn't, I swear, it just feels like it) and my head is a throbbing mess. *No more insurance. Means no antibiotics for my ear infection. Or hormones. So I'll be a blathering mess. Ah well. *I am now officially a meat prop. I have to call myself a meat prop by profession because it's my main source of income (besides my quickly dwindling savings) and I'm doing it at least once a week now. And I've paid my union dues, so I guess that makes it official. * I am the oldest student in basic community college classes (as least it seems like it). I just found out I'm older than the second oldest student by almost ten years in my "math for students who fucked up and took too many drugs in high school" class. *NYU won't even consider me for grad school because my "Statistics for Art Majors" (yes, it really is a class) from undergrad isn't going to fulfill my calculus math requirement. Apparently, Fine Art majors aren't exactly welcomed with open arms in the graduate biochemistry department. "But I'm ASIAN!" I cry, to no avail. "Yes dear", they say, "We have enough Asians here. And you're old, with no science background. Try law school." *I'm living with my grandmother. I feel like Baby Jane. Sometimes, I don't believe I'm the best caregiver for her. The cheapest, yes, but not the best. I find myself saying, "oops" a lot. *I'm turning into my mother. Tip of the iceberg. I can keep going. But then I remember why I don't jump off a bridge. I'm afraid of heights and I don't like pain. And I really want to stick around to spite people. Because I'm a huge bitch. [3:48 PM] |

Thursday, December 11, 2003

I think I may be sick. Not cold-like sniffly kind of sick. That's pussy-sick. I'm talking, body ache, scratchy eyes, ear infected, head throbbing, someone please kill me NOW kind of sick. And if I am I'm going to be really really pissed. Next week is my finals week, and everyone wants to see me fail ('you can't teach an old dog new tricks'-type mantra from everyone), so I have to do well. And I'm talking ASIAN kind of well. But all I want to do right now is get my head out of this vise, and jam an icepick through my ear. So if I sound down and/or angry for a while, you know why. And I just lost my insurance. Great timing, huh? If you don't hear from me in a while, I'm in too much pain, or I've died. And if I've died, I'll have my mother post something. But knowing my mother and her penchant for ass, she'll probably describe in great detail how I shit my pants or something equally charming. I'm just going to sit here and feel sorry for myself and blame Trigger. He's always complaining about feeling under the weather. Although I haven't seen him in a while and the last time I saw him he was actually symptom-free, I still like to blame him for everything because he takes it like a woman. But I guess I can't expect too much sympathy from him, considering he's a boy, and not very good at that kind of stuff. Well, there's always Miss Kitty she's always good for some sympathy. [10:15 PM] |

Wednesday, December 10, 2003

I finally finished the Nanny Diaries and I have to admit it wasn't what I expected. It was much, much worse. I am filled with undeniable shame knowing that drivel has been entered into my mind. I feel brain cells being torn asunder like Hulk Hogans unfortunate muscle tees. The Nanny Diaries is like sulfuric acid poured upon my soluble mind. It burns, yes, it burns. I am angry that I wasted my time with that nonsense when my time would be better well spent even watching "Access Hollywood" or reruns of "The Power Rangers". I think this book was slightly more productive than shelling almonds for a toothless old man, or buying really expensive running shoes for a double leg amputee. Not only is it useless and a lot of trouble (if not painful), it's just plain mean. Then came time for the phone call. I;m not very good at preparing speeches, or planning what to say ahead of time. I sound about as convincing as George Dubbya talking about anything dealing with humanity. So I just decided to wing it with my friend. Her: So, whatdjya think? Huh? Huh? Was it not great??? Me: It was something! It was not great! Her: wasn't the love story so heartwarming? Me: There was a love story? Between the little boy and the Nanny? Isn't that pedophilia? Are sure that feeling isn't heartburn? Maybe a little gas? Her: Stop being so silly (note: For some reason, this woman never understands that I'm being caustically sarcastic, I'm always just "being silly". And when I'm just generally sarcastic, she thinks I'm being serious. She's the type of person who has cat posters from Hallmark on her walls. She draws full circles over her 'i's instead of stabbing the page with her pen, as I do. She is usually happy, almost always positive. But I still adore her anyway. Go figure) Me: Uh, yeah. I finished it. It was different than what I expected. I, uh, jeez, school's been tough, finals coming up! I'm working a bit now, did I tell you I have a really really sick friend? Her: Study harder, save your money, sorry for your friend, so what EXACTLY was your favorite part of the book? Me: .... Her: Oh, you don't have to choose just one, what part are you thinking of now? Me: The end? Her: Oh my god! Me too! Don't you just love how she carries herself over all of the blah blah blah blah....(half and hour later)...blah blah? Me: My thoughts exactly! Her: I have a bunch of reader's club discussion questions, let's go over them! Me: Uh, you know, I just remembered I have an appointment to roll around nekkid in broken glass and lemon juice, Gotta go, bye! Her: Wait! So what are you reading now? Me: Sick Puppy [12:01 PM] |

Being the good sister that I am, I decided to help my brother out because, well, no one else would. Believe me, I wasn't the first one he called, far from it. While I adore my sibling, we aren't the closest of kin. We have very little in common. So it irks me to be seen as the errand girl, only to be called when something is needed. Take today, for example. Last night big brother's car was impounded. So bright and early (and on a school day, mind you), I go to pick him up only to find he's still doing his hair (after a lecture of "don't be late!) and needs another 15 minutes to finish his hair. So we drive to AAA, which is essentially right by my place, to wait in line to get his registration, then go back to his neck of the woods to go to the police station to wait in line to get the paperwork so he can pick up his car, only find out he has to go to the DMV which is in BFE, to wait in line to wait in another line to get that paperwork, and back to the police station to wait in line to get the aforementioned paperwork, then off to the impound to wait in line to get his car, to find out it's the wrong impound, then back to the police station, only to hear the idiot officer who was making wise-ass comments every single time we were there, say, "hey guys, this is your third strike, you're going to jail! ha ha ha!" And at that point, all I could say was, "oh fuck off", and since he wasn't helping us, and I wasn't busted for anything, nor did he have my name, he couldn't do anything. But the clerk was very nice and whispered, "I want to say that every day to him", and gave us detailed instructions on how to get to the other impound in which we were to wait in line to get his car. After he go this car, we went our separate ways, and I found it took 50 miles to pick up his car. Four hours after I picked him up, I got to go home and take a shower so I could be late for class. Moral of the story: If your car gets towed, don't call me. Not unless there's food involved or some gas money. [12:27 AM] |

Tuesday, December 09, 2003

I am recalling a moment not too long ago finding a booty call of mine nekkid in bed. Oddly enough, I had clothing on. My mother decides to meet said suitor, so she comes into the bedroom makes introductions and departs. Later, all she said to me, was, "how rude, he didn't even stand up to greet me". [12:57 PM] |

Monday, December 08, 2003

Well, so much for trying to write at least every three days as promised to my list members. Should I promise a dollar for every time I go over three days? Maybe it will be incentive for others to join the list? Ah whatever, the crappy thing doesn't really work anyway. So what is it that could have been keeping me from my precious blog writing anyway? Could it be fame and fortune in my newly acquired, semi-regular role as meat-prop? Maybe my intense concentration as I delve further into the realm of academia? My loyalty to family members as they rehabilitate? Curing cancer? World peace? Cock? Maybe a little of all of the above. Well, let's see, why couldn't I write? A night of carousing with the same people I usually see on Friday nights at the FAKE, and the fact that I wrote Friday, made the need to write moot. And I was forced to stay in bed until past 3pm on Saturday, only to be forced out of bed by the need for some type of caloric intake. I went to my mother's place to pick up the pooch, walking in to her telling me of the massive poop she just took, "It was at least a foot long!", as if I should be proud. I stood in a dark corner trying to erase the event from my mind for a while, leaving me time only for a dog walk, more food, a movie at home, then too beat to do any writing. Sunday forced me to do holiday shopping and errands and someone else's office party. So there you go, all the reasons why Jerky hasn't been writing. But don't worry, more to come, I'm going to finish The Nanny Diaries tonight. [5:42 PM] |

Friday, December 05, 2003

I woke up this morning, to find I had three pennies embedded in various parts of my body. And I found them when I was going to take a shower, AFTER I had been piddling around for a while. So they were superglued to me by my own body pressure and fluids during the night. I have no idea how those pennies got there, or why I didn't feel them when I went to bed, I must have been tired. Maybe it's down payment from the tooth fairy, telling me to cut down the sugar in my diet. But if that's the case, I don't think (s)he's caught up with inflation. Now, even after my shower, and more piddling around, I still have penny indentations in my body, and I don't want to leave the house. People will think that I'm a cheap whore, or that I'm homeless and slept on my change cup. Ah well, most people think that anyway. [12:22 PM] |

Tuesday, December 02, 2003

A Jerky reader e-mailed me with this question: Dear Jerky, What's with the name? Do you really like Jerky or something? Or is there some hidden meaning behind dried meat products? Should I be imagining you eating tons of jerky as you are typing up your thoughts? Please enlighten the rest of us. Curious Reader Dear Curious, Did Babe eat bacon? Of course not! I am Jerky, because I am, not because of any fondness for dehydrated slabs of flesh. I am Jerky, because my mother couldn't think of a better name at the time, and she just spent many hours uncomfortably pushing me out of her womb. Treat is a bastardized version of one of the Japanese royal last names. The people on Ellis Island gave it an American tweak. And there you have it, the origin of the naming of Jerky Treat. What, you think I made it up? And no, I do not eat jerky. I leave that up to my current booty call. [11:09 PM] |

Monday, December 01, 2003

I have a friend (really!). A person who's been my friend about twenty years. We have nothing in common. We don't enjoy the same things, the same activities, the same food, the same aesthetics. Yet we remain friends, and will continue to be such. When we see each other, we generally have a good time. We remain friends by the common bond that we were swim partners in the 6th grade and have been geographically close all these years. And that even though we have been in close proximity of each other, we have never dated the same men. And between the two of us, that's a lot of men. As of now, we are not so geographically close, but we remain in contact via e-mail and occasional phone calls. A messy divorce has turned dealing with her into the emotional equivalent of a Mike Tyson fight, where a conversation will end with you getting your ear chewed off. Sometimes quite literally. So I treat her with kid gloves and try and support her in my own snarky way. So when she told me I HAD to read this book, it's her absolute favorite, and she wants to talk about it with someone, my first inclination was to tell her to ask someone else, but I acquiesced, not wanting to agitate her into another emotional fit. The book is "The Nanny Diaries". How bad can a book be? Let's just say, I think a hot, chicken fat enema would be much more pleasant. Take two of the things I dislike the most, working, and children, and put them together. Add snotty rich people, a thin storyline, trite dialogue, vague characters, and a lot of predictability, and you've got The Nanny Diaries. In other words, I'm not so fond of the book. She's been e-mailing every day, wondering how far along I am. How do you tell someone teetering on the edge that you can't stand what she loves? Usually, I'd say screw it, and tell her what I really think, but when she's a mental Jenga that's being held up by one stick and The Nanny Diaries, I have to tread carefully. I really do wonder why she would like this book, it is of no substance, the literary equivalent of a rice cake, or in my case, an undigested legume that keeps coming up to bother me. The armchair psychologist that I am, I have to wonder what drew her to this piece of crap, I mean, book. And the armchair psychologist wonders if it is because everyone's marriage is failing and there is no love or romance involved, which is partially the point of the story (if there is one), and in that way, she relates. Hm. Still doesn't make me want to talk to her about it. Well, at least I remember why I like non-fiction so much more. [9:49 PM] |

Turkey Jerky

Blogarama Watch out for them Asians Aussie's Rule! Who needs a hug? The Prettiest Girl Good clean fun! Rock Star semi-nongirlfriend A whole lotta LA Because I said so

other jerky

Old Jerky

Archives 10/01/2003 - 10/31/2003 11/01/2003 - 11/30/2003 12/01/2003 - 12/31/2003 01/01/2004 - 01/31/2004 02/01/2004 - 02/29/2004 03/01/2004 - 03/31/2004 04/01/2004 - 04/30/2004 05/01/2004 - 05/31/2004 06/01/2004 - 06/30/2004 07/01/2004 - 07/31/2004 08/01/2004 - 08/31/2004 09/01/2004 - 09/30/2004 10/01/2004 - 10/31/2004 12/01/2004 - 12/31/2004