Well, dear readers, tomorrow morning I shall be on my way to New York, New York where, at long last, I might get some blessed sleep. I am so behind right now it’s not even funny. I haven’t begun to pack, I still have to pick up my dry cleaning so I can actually have stuff to wear, I have to get to the bank, I have things to mail, blah, blah, blah (that is three blahs). I wish I had more to report but the fact is the days have been so long that I haven’t been doing anything in the evenings that would give me something to write about. Therefore, this week it has been like pulling teeth to write these here notes. And now I have no teeth left and isn’t that a fine kettle of you-know-what. What else can I tell you? I am currently sipping on a Diet Coke which curiously does not taste like a Diet Coke. Is it possible that someone pulled a fast one and put some other drink in a Diet Coke can? Wouldn’t that be a fine kettle of you-know-what. After reading yesterday’s posts I was so hungry for See’s Dark Chocolate Nut and Chews and a package of Flicks (which I don’t think they make anymore) yet I had not one sweet thing in my house, beside my very own self. I was sans sweets, and I had already put my automobile in the garage. Speaking of my garage, do you know that several times I have returned home only to find the garage door open? Two days ago my neighbor from across the street came over and said she’d seen it happen, so now I finally know what the problem is. It seems that the idiot who lives two doors to the south of me, in the ugliest house on the block, has an electric gate. And apparently said gate is on the same frequency as my garage. Now, just who does this unmitigated twizzler think he is? One of us has to change frequencies, and since I’ve had the same one for four years and he just got his stupid electric gate (why does one need an electric gate – he can’t just open a gate?) so he should be the one to change frequencies. But he’s an old codger, so when I get home I shall have to have the garage door people come out and change the signal, which will then have to be changed to my car button. Meantime, my neighbor has been keeping an eye on the situation and I’ve told her what to do and how to close it should it happen whilst I am gone. Now, I don’t like to bring this sort of thing up, but has anyone else noticed how long this paragraph is? I simply forgot to make new paragraphs. And now we’re stuck with this endlessly long paragraph and isn’t that a fine kettle of you-know-what. Well, why don’t we all click on the Unseemly Button below because this endless paragraph is making me want to vomit.
My goodness that was a long paragraph. I feel spent, frankly. I don’t really have much to say in this new section. I mean, I could kill time just writing any old thing, but what did time ever do to me that I should perpetrate a homicide on it? I can’t kill time. Time is on my side. Time heals all wounds. If I could put time in a bottle would I have bottled time? If I bought some parsley, sage and rosemary on the installment plan, would I be buying parsley, sage, rosemary on time? Time waits for no man. Time marches on. On marches time. What the hell am I talking about? I’m just killing time and that’s all there is to it. And isn’t that a fine kettle of you-know-what. What else can I tell you? For the last two days I’ve eaten chicken salad sandwiches for lunch. Isn’t that exciting? Isn’t that just too too? And I’ve been eating nothing of consequence for dinner, because I’m starting to have trouble fitting into my pants. So, for example, last night I ate a piece of bread with cream cheese on it, and five crackers. Of course, it helps that I haven’t had an appetite all week. In the office, some bad PA has brought in scads of those mini-candy bars – Snickers, Milky Way, Three Musketeers – but thus far I’ve managed to keep my grimy paws off of them. What else can I tell you? I’m looking forward to seeing all you East Coast Hainsies/Kimlets on Sunday. Oh, what fun we shall have. We shall wear our pointy party hats, as well as our colored tights and pantaloons, and we shall sup on cheese slices and ham chunks (weather permitting) and we shall dance the Hora and the Frug. It will be quite a bash and I’ll be writing all about it right here in these notes. Now wait just a darned minute. I can’t believe it. It’s another endless paragraph, one long endless parade of words, words, and more words. Well, that is obviously the style of today’s notes. One paragraph per section, today only. I didn’t mean to be stingy on the paragraphs, but sometimes that’s the way things go down. Well, things also go down with a spoonful of sugar, according to my pals, the Sherman Brothers (I spoke to Mr. Richard Sherman just the other day, and he sends all his love to you dear readers). Well, I must take the day, I must do the things I do, I must prepare for my trip, I must eat a chicken salad sandwich. Today’s topic of discussion: Yesterday we had James Stewart and candy, today we shall have Barbara Stanwyck and fast food. I’ll start: Double Indemnity (at her most sublime), The Lady Eve (ditto), Ball of Fire (ditto), Sorry, Wrong Number and Lady of Burlesque. Filet o’ fish, In and Out Burgers, Taco Bell tacos (sue me), Jack in the Box Onion Rings, Breakfast Jack and too many others to name. Your turn.