Cleanup on Aisle Five!

Home again, Finnegan.

Girl-child spiked a fever at preschool yesterday, meaning she can't return for 24 hours. I'm home again, and have squired her in her bedroom on Disney Princess sheets with a fresh dose of Children's Tylenol whilst I do some cleanup here on the site.

1) This morning I did a terrible thing with a wonderful thing. I ate two (not one, but TWO) slices of white chocolate raspberry swirl bread from my local chain bakery. Me, who usually has Atkins-approved cheese or maybe eggs for breakfast. Me, who makes a cross with my index fingers when passed the bread basket at a restaurant. Now I'm FLYIN', man, look! No hands! Damn carbs freak my body the fuck out. Like this...I can feel every molecule and atom in my body, and they're all doing some contorted tango with each other. My skin is hot, my face flushed, I can feel each strand of hair on my head. My stomach is lurching like I was on the double ferris-wheel. Thoughts scatter, just scraps of paper blowin' about in my noggin. Eggs. I need eggs.

(Much much later.)

2) The girl-child and I had breakfast for lunch. Scrambled eggs and bacon. She had toast and cherries as well. Okay, now I'm not quite so shaky, but DAMN!

3) I've been very neglectful of my Five Freebie Lays. I've had a really difficult time with my current list, and decided last night to excise one of my choices and make another category for him. So Elvis Costello is now listed under 'Gurus'. Having him as a Freebie Lay just didn't cut it somehow, as my lustful thoughts of him were relegated purely to talent. Also, I couldn't move Mike Doughty out of the Floater position because...well...I've grown so attached to him. He was on Letterman Tuesday night and I just wanted to disrobe him and spread jelly on him and eat him like a sweet sweet sandwich. So Doughty has moved into a permanent freebie lay position. Welcome Mike! And congrats Elvis, for the new category!

4) Introducing the New Floater Freebie Lay



Peter Sarsgaard

The eyes. And the voice. I rented 'Kinsey' just to make sure this choice was the right one, and just finished watching the scene...for the THIRD time...where Peter strips naked, asks Liam Neeson if he wants to experience a '3', and kisses him sooo gently. Fock. Liam then pulls Peter's head in and kisses HIM, hard and long, oh fuck, yes! Ooh! Now Peter's seducing Laura Linney! I need to watch this movie again...and again. C'mon Peter, let me be the cream filling in these sandwiches you're making!

Peter seems to pop up a lot in indie films, either as a maladjusted thug or as a well-meaning good-guy. What strikes me from these performances is his ease in front of the camera, his gentle delivery, spoken like a normal bloke. Okay, and his eyes are hothouse 'bedroom' variety, of which I am especially fond. I enjoyed 'Shattered Glass', wanted to fuck him like hard rock in 'Garden State', and am really liking 'Kinsey' and will stop typing with one hand right...now. He's dating Maggie Gyllenhaal, which is okay, since she looks strong enough to hold the video camera needed to catch me riding Peter like he's a champion bull. Yee-haw! Welcome, Peter!

5) Many comments ago, Rob Helpy-Chalk inquired as to my Desert Island Pick. If I were stranded on a desert island with (in my case) a woman, who I would share 'everything' with, who would it be? This took me a while. The famous women I think are fuckable aren't necessarily smart, and vice-versa. I must have someone sexy and smart and funny (ya know, someone like ME). After much deliberation, I finally came up with my choice.
Only to have it dashed to the rocks.
By one Mr. Jones.

Because he featured on his blog the obit of the perfect woman, my perfect Desert Island Pick. Alas, too late for me to do anything about.
Posthumously, my Desert Island Pick is:
Anne Bancroft.
Sexy. Lovely. Bawdy. Smart. Funny. Fucking funny. Hilarious! Her mouth was a deadly weapon with words, she was lithe and focused and charming. "Do you want me to seduce you?" "Um, actually Mrs. Robinson... YES!"

Later I'll find another Desert Island Pick. One who can actually come to my door and lead me to a remote island somewhere. I can't let Anne go just yet.

6) Girl-child is demanding my attention and the dryer is buzzing with a fresh load of dry clothes. I can't get the image of Peter Sarsgaard's naked body out of my head. Hmm...nice way to end a post.