Ultratart: It's Got Bite

Yay!

My mother just called to let me know that my grandfather has been released from the nursing home ahead of schedule (never underestimate a man's desire to sleep in his own bed), and the dog has had her stitches removed, AND my baby sister has successfully managed to master backing out of parking spots (she's learning to drive). It's so nice to get some good news, you know?

Also, SoapNet is like a John Sears-athon right now because he's seducing Kelly and underage moppets on 90210 and being evil on One Tree Hill, which is on right after it, which is ALSO good news.

Out of the Rut

You know what helps? Dancing in your living room to "Bust A Move."

Yo Quiero

My neighborhood, in addition to being a powerful draw lately for women who trade sex for drugs, has Smell Issues. As my friend Michael said to me the other day, "Your neighborhood smells like the beach! And sometimes urine." And while it DOES often smell nice and beach-y, more often than not the odors wafting into my window are: REALLY STRONG FISH (are my neighbors gutting them? On my doorstep?), burnt toast (there's a bread factory upwind) and, for the last three days, Taco Bell. Like there's a dude standing outside my door eating a giant Burrito Supreme (there's not. I looked).

I do live five or six blocks away from Taco Bell. I wondered if it were possible that maybe it had exploded, in a giant burst of faux sour cream and shredded lettuce. But I imagine that would have been on the news. Is my downstairs neighbor, who is due to have a baby any day now, in the throes of a powerful Taco Bell craving that requires her to eat all her burritos outside?  Do I have a brain tumor? (I think I read somewhere that smelling strange things is a sign of a brain tumor). If so, can it be one of the ones that doesn't kill you?

Frankly, August has sort of sucked. Other than Heather's birthday, and some fun outings with friends, I've swung being pretty stressed to totally bored without ever hitting anything in the middle.  I'm either worrying about work, my dog, or my grandfather, or I'm whinging that NOTHING FUN and INTERESTING and EXCITING EVER HAPPPPPPPPENS, like it's August, 1985 and I'm going into fifth grade.  I'm sure I am A DELIGHT to be around.

And while my grandfather is doing better, I think (he ended up going into the hospital, which actually led to some improvement in his care, because the people at the hospital thought to actually try and figure out what's wrong with him, and now he's recouping at a nursing home until he's well enough that my grandmother can take care of him at home, which I hope will happen soon. Thank you all for your well wishes, too, -- that meant a lot), and the dog will be fine (thank goodness), and I know rationally that I have loads to look forward to (like Fashion Week! And the beginning of the football season! And all kinds of fun fall-y things that I'm lucky to have heading my way!) I just feel...like I'm in a total rut. A giant, boring, prematurely-aging rut. And I have no idea how to get out of it. 

But It's FUNDAMENTAL.

I just read a report claiming that 1 out of 4 Americans didn't read a single book last year and this BLOWS MY MIND. This just proves once again that I am an inveterate nerdy bookworm and always have been, as my response to this article was to wonder half-seriously what these people are doing all the time.

I am someone who CAN NOT not have something to read. As a child, I used to take books into the shower because showering was so BORING. (Now I just read the back of the conditioner.) I pack 4 books for a one week trip, especially if the trip involves an airplane. The thought of being on a plane without a book actually fills me with panic. I have to read something before I go to sleep at night; it's been my ritual since before I could actually read. The idea of being condemned to go a year without reading something gives me hives. 

Fundamentally, this isn't really a post about How America Is So Dumb Now Oh My God. I have no idea if 25% of people didn't read a book in 1963, either -- it certainly seems possible. I guess it just makes me dorkily sad that other people don't get the same enjoyment out of books that I do. They're so delightful! You can learn things! About wizards! Or botany! Or spies! Or drugs! Or sex and rock and roll! Or murder! Or any number of things!

So that's my Public Service Announcement for the day: read a book this year! They're potentially so much smuttier than basic cable.

Thank You, God

For this, via US Weekly:

Usmagazine.com has confirmed that Kevin Federline will guest star on the CW drama One Tree Hill. Reps for both K-Fed and the network confirm that the former Mr. Spears will appear on a two-episode arc of the teen soap.

According to the network, Federline will play "Jason, the cocky, enigmatic frontman for 'No Means Yes,' a seminal rock band from the fictional town of Tree Hill, North Carolina."

I CAN NOT WAIT. It will be TERRIBLE and ergo AWESOME.

Grazie

In a week which has been marked with stresses  -- finding out that my grandfather may have had a stroke ("or maybe he's just tired!" his doctor chirped, like, WHY DON'T YOU INVESTIGATE FURTHER, Dr. Lackadaisical?); my dog having major surgery (thankfully, we think she will be fine); a series of semi-hilarious-because they're-so-outlandish but also troublesome book developments (none of which, thank goodness, will impede the publication HOPEFULLY but some of which will be a definite pain in my ass); and a random smattering of boring but annoying personal issues as well as serious crabbiness caused by all of the above -- at least the Barneys Warehouse Sale gave me Prada shoes yesterday.

Thank you, Barneys. I owe you one.

Fruity Ethics

Just say, hypothetically, that you live next door to a house inhabited by crabby people and a giant lemon tree. And those lemons often grow over onto your walkway, to the point where sometimes they whack you on the head. And that, one day, in making a quinoa salad, you realize that you totally forgot to buy lemons at the market, and you need one. If, say, you were to sneak out to your walkway and pick one of your neighbor's lemons -- rip it off the the tree, really, because it didn't come off as easily as you thought, all whilst looking around shiftily and feeling guilty -- would that be considered stealing, and, if so, how much time am I going to have to do in Purgatory for same?

You Probably Think This Post Is About You

While I was combing my hair this morning, and staring at all the beauty products I can't stop buying,  I -- like Carrie Bradshaw before me -- got to thinking. Which, I wondered, was the most ridiculous purchase of them all? (I mean, I'm not buying $500 caviar-infused mascara or anything, but let's face it: if I were super rich, I would totally buy $250 caviar-infused mascara. Out of curiosity!) I decided, while applying volumizer, that my silliest beauty buy was the time I decided I really needed Jonathan Antin's Water Purification System. In my defense, I realized that this was a bridge too far, and ended up returning it.  It also didn't fit on my shower head. It also felt like one step away from washing my hair with Evian. Which I would probably try if it came out that washing your hair with Evian was a really good idea, because I do whatever magazines tell me to do, at least once.

Please tell me you've done something crazy in the name of beauty.