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rue-madame's Diaryland Diary


Is truth stranger than fiction?

I am so touched by all of the friendly advice pouring from every Diaryland nook and cranny! Itís doing a lot to keep my spirits up, and I couldnít be more grateful.

The other day my Chicken Littleism downwardly spiraled into a true depression. It was no fun. Just as the clouds began darkening and looking ominous (feeling crappy, health insurance debacle, fatherís condition worsening), my friend Harriet called. Out of the blue. To check in because she was on a layover in Minneapolis.

Man, the timing could not have been better. Within a few minutes, I was feeling sunnier and loved. She really cheered me up. That evening I came home to a package from heróa sort of belated birthday/get well soon combo that included: a Mates of State t-shirt, the new Of Montreal cd, a book about arthritis, an issue of People, some Rooibos tea, and a DVD set of Season 3 of Sex and the City. Clarence was right: ďNo man is a failure who has friends.Ē

But enough about that: Tom actually proposed to Katie? At the Eiffel Tower? Yeah, like no oneís every done THAT before. Real original, Top Gun. This is such a bizarre publicity stunt/Scientology snowjob, itís starting to freak me out. Itís like Madgeís proselytizing childrenís books, or her weird tour documentary (that was rejected at Cannes) that was more Kabbalah than music. Itís this a Scientology vs Kabbalah slugfest?

I got the new W yesterday, the one with all of the controversial photos of Angie and Brad. Thereís no denying that the timing couldnít be worse, but the photos are really fantastic (and Iím not just saying that because Brad gets to wear Thom Browne suits--my favorite--and Ang looks amazing. In general, I donít admire Steven Kleinís work.) Anyway. Maybe theyíre trading on their Mr. And Mrs. Smith characterizations, maybe theyíre trading on the rumors about their dalliance, the truth is theyíve got a movie to promote and this is genius publicity. I have more respect for those two actors than I do for the above mentioned ones (except that Madge is no actress. All of her scenes in Guyís new movie have been cut, didnít you know?)

Today is the day that TA works until 1. I canít wait for him to pick me up. 4 hours to go! Weíve got errands to run, Iíve got an occupational therapy appointment, he needs to get a haircut from Drooly the 90 year-old Hamden barber, then I canít wait to finally do some laundry with our recently repaired machine.

Happiness can be measured in weensy spoonfuls sometimes. Itís like that shrill Denis Leary bit: ďĒI'm not happy." Nobody's happy, ok!? Happiness comes in small doses, folks. It's a cigarette, or a chocolate cookie, or a five second orgasm. That's it, ok! You cum, you eat the cookie, you smoke the butt, you go to sleep, you get up in the morning and go to fucking work, ok!? Thatís it! End of fucking list! "I'm just not happy." Shut the fuck up, alright?

9:12 a.m. - 2005-06-17



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