Category: etc.

Poorla’s new boy toy is a pretty young black fellow named Chris.

Just sayin’ is all.

Sings his love song for Poorla:

“There is this girl I know, I follow her around, I broke into her house, took off all my clothes and tried on her underwear. I really think that I love her. I’m not much of a talker, so I guess I’ll just stalk her. If she were a dog, I’d think that I would walk her, if she were Colombo, I’d Peter Falk her, if she were a bathtub, I’d caulk her.”

Simon: “I really think you should leave. You’re creepy. There’s something off about you. Get out of here.”

Amen, Simon. Ew.

Milo. Stumpy, balding, 39, so overage for the competition. Looks like Woody Allen and George Costanza had a love child. Ryan lets him in anyway to share the song he wrote: No Sex Allowed, complete with weird little marching steps. “Sex is weak but love is strong, yeah …. No sex allowed! ….. if you don’t like it, just get outta town.” And so he did.

The girl who looks like Willem Dafoe, according to Simon. And you know, he’s not necessarily wrong. She does a Grace Slick imitation, the judges decline, and she begins to pontificate all over the place, flipping the camera off, wildly declaring how she wants to leave with her dignity, how, screw it, she’s “gonna go for actressing now.” Okay, Willem.

“Errrrwaraaaraaaaerrrwahaaaa, let my pippa go …… errrrrwahawaraaaahaaaraaa …. let my pippa go …… go don Moses …. errrrhaaamaaaawahaahaawaaaaa ….. let my pippa go.”

My favorite so far. Pippa.

Said the Egyptian dude to the judges.

Premiere tonight. They’ve tinkered with the show, I hear, which is probably good, because last year was a bit of a bore.

And keeping San Diego in this week’s news, I believe that the premiere tonight starts with auditions here. It’s America’s Finest City, don’t you know. I seem to remember hearing that when AI came to SD back in July. So, of course, I have to watch. Maybe I’ll see one of the crazies from Boheme auditioning, in which case it will be my duty to report it to you, of course. 😉

Autobiography in Five Short Chapters by Portia Nelson

I
I walk down the street.
There is a deep Hole in the sidewalk.
I fall in.
I am lost… I am helpless.
It isn’t my fault.
It takes forever to find a way out.

II
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I pretend I don’t see it.
I fall in again.
I can’t believe I am in the same place
But it isn’t my fault.
It still takes a long time to get out.

III
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I see it is there.
I still fall in… it’s a habit.
My eyes are open
I know where I am
It is my fault.
I get out immediately.

IV
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I walk around it.

V
I walk down another street.

Piper’s older brothers, Halloween from a few years back now. Superman is giggling wildly on my lap. Spiderman is basically beside himself with howling as MB dangles him upside down. You think they’d be used to being upside down, being Superman and Spiderman and all. But no. It is beyond their ability to cope. They cannot breathe. It is death from dangling. Terrible aunt, dreadful uncle, killing their superhero nephews this way. I can’t remember why we’re in front of this weird sheet backdrop. Clearly, some strange, poorly lit film project was going on in that house. As you can see, I am in a red-hair phase and MB is in a backward-cap phase. The boys are in an extreme cuteness/incurable giggling phase.

WEEEE WONNNNNNNN!!!! San Diego 28, Indianapolis 24!!

Oh, sweet Jesus. My heart.

Even with LaDainian Tomlinson, the league’s best running back, on the sidelines since halftime.

Even with our QB hurt on the sidelines since the 3rd quarter.

Even with the Colts about to score and take the lead late in the game. We held them at the 6-yard line for all 4 downs.

I am astonished, but so proud of them. A great, great game! Both teams were intense.

Uhm, so next week, we take on the undefeated New England Patriots and their coach Bill Belicheat for the AFC Championships. Yikes.

(Please excuse my editorial comment about the New England coach. I have zero respect for him.)