I'm going to Beck tonight. I'm very excited. I should be in a great mood. I'm not. People are pissing me off today. It happens. Plus I have Road Rules waiting for me at home both before and after the concert. Two good things about Road Rules is that this is the last one. Thank God. And unless we're all being scammed, the one tolerable, nay, very charming cast member is emailing me, having read the recaps. She seems quite cool, but my suspicious nature has to prove she is who she is before we try to set up an interview or anything.

I find it appalling that Disney is using real Dalmatians in so many of their ads for 102 Dalmatians. Didn't they learn the first time? Dalmatians were abandoned left and right and sent back to shelters after the puppies so many spoiled kids demanded after the last live-action remake turned into problematic dogs, as Dalmatians are wont to do. Apparently they didn't learn or don't give a shit. Shame on them. Seriously. PETA goes too far sometimes, but I'd love to throw a can of red paint on Eisner.

What is up with men and bathrooms? Seriously. You women are nasty, but men are fucking nastier. No one washes their hands. People groan and huff and are just generally disgusting. I hate public bathrooms.

I sit next to Loud Talker. Now I'm a loud talker myself. Pamie had to tell me to shut up when at the awards lunch in Austin I thought I whispered, suggesting we yell "Crossing Delancy sucked!" when Paul Mazursky was speaking; I guess I don't whisper as covertly as I think I do. But anyway, this woman, I'm sure she's a wonderful person and seems like a lot of fun, but she screeches, she cackles, and most annoyingly, she has to punctuate Every Word with a raucous bang on her desk. My co-worker and I have taken to either talking very loudly or turning up Every Girl's My Girlfriend very loud whenever she forgets to close her door during a meeting with her fellow loud talkers. Well, luckily her business unit is sucking big time. (I just said "business unit." Kill me.)

I'm constantly amazed by how fucking rude some people can be. Recently, I've come across a few instances of people talking shit about me on various forums or journals. They really bothered me for a few minutes, and then the minute I walked away from the computer, I wanted to punch myself for being upset in the first place. Still, the silence with which I (usually) respond to these disses can be read as me first holding my tongue forcibly, and then truly, very truly thinking, "How sad and bored that person must be." Hopefully silence speaks louder than the flame-wars many people seem to just love to participate in. (Wow, as I was writing this, an old blow-hard popped up on 3WA, talking shit about someone else. Run run, sad little man, run run.) And to be honest, the people I've met or "met" online have been terribly wonderful people. There are just a few out there, man. A very few that I'm talking about. We all know who they are, and in the main I think we encourage them. Remember, if attention is not paid, the attention seeker will be forced to seek it elsewhere. It's a good thing to remember.

I was up at a house Sunday night in Bel Air which might have been the nicest place I've ever been to. It made John Stamos' house look like my college apartment. Seriously. At one point I was lying on a bed on this isolated deck, talking on the phone and staring up at the tall pines giving way to Los Angeles fall evening sky. I only left to go hit a few serves on the tennis court, watch a movie in the screening room, and then drink red wine by the pool. You can't go home after that. You just end up crying.

OK. Will and Grace is very funny. I was wrong.

I'd suck. No question.

COUCH WATCH:
DAY 37.

STATUS:
STILL ON CURB
...currently holding a broken TV and an empty Fruitopia bottle

---

The Anna Nicole Smith Happy Song Corner

 
 
There was a time that I had nothing to explain. All this mess I had made. But then things got complicated, my innocence has all but faded. All this mess I have made. And I don't believe in god. So I can't be saved. All alone as I learn to be in this mess I have made. Oh, the untested virtue, the things I said I'd never do. Least of all, to you. And though he's kind and true. I know that he is good to you. He'll never care for you more than I do. But I don't believe in love. So I can't be tamed. All alone, as I've learned to be. In this mess I have made. The same mistake. Over and over again. There are rooms in this house that I don't open any more. Dusty books and pictures on the floor. But she will never see. She'll never see that part of me. I want to be for her what I could never be for you. And I don't believe in God. So I can't be saved. All alone as I've learned to be in this mess I have made ... speaking of which. (Anna just fell asleep. Call the nurse.)
 
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