Recommend a good scotch
1) I can’t get my head around a work day anymore. 5 days...FIVE days...of not having to log in to a computer, five days of not having to be fully dressed, five days of checking the frig for cheesecake and stuffing. Oh, to win the lottery and spend my days half-naked and lounging around the pool, watching Raoul tend to my roses.
2) Thanksgiving was full of food, and I’m feeling like one of those whales that washes ashore and spends a week in the sun, bloating from the decomposition and heat. Yeah, I’m a pretty picture. I need an apple and a glass of water and a high colonic. (But I'll take a good scotch.)
3) I have a new Fantasy Boyfriend in Daniel Craig (Bond…James Bond). If you haven't seen his turn in Layer Cake, well, run yer butt out right now and rent that puppy, 'cause he's a bit of fantastic.
So that makes my Fantasy Boyfriend list:
Colin Firth (actor)
Dave Matthews (musician)
Bradley Whitford (actor)
Mike Doughty (musician)
Floater: Daniel Craig (actor)
Uh...oh…I forgot…Kirk Herbstreit is my ‘standard’ floater during college football season, but…well…I guess I’m cheating on him. And since when do I have more blondes on my list than brunettes?
4) Dear Garrison Keillor…sorry I fell asleep last night while watching “Prairie Home Companion”. I’m sure it wasn’t your movie, as I’m both a big fan of yours and Robert Altman. But…well…I guess it was too late, and my ‘cleaning up the last of the pumpkin pie’ attempt put me in a sugar coma, and it was too damn hot in the house. I do have to say, man, that although my love/lust for Kevin Kline runs mighty deep, he wouldn’t be my first choice to play Guy Noir. You need someone a little grittier. A little naughtier. A little stupider. Capice? Just a thought for next time. Sincerely, Mona.
5) I got all huffy and pissed off at the lawn last night and raked up 10 huge paper lawn bags full of leaves and detritus. My shoulders and arms feel like I had great sex on a trapeze, and then I got hit by a truck. But still…nice.
6) Yesterday I gave my daughter raw baby carrots with her lunch, and as we were eating, she turned to me and said, “Look!” She’d bitten a circle around the carrot, about half an inch down from one end, such that the thing looked like a mini penis. I had one of those mom-moments where you try not to laugh or freakout. (A Penis! Har! Shit!) I managed to squeak out, “Nice, honey,” before leaning back to exhale out a combination of fright and impressiveness. I couldn’t watch as she ate the thing. Could. Not. Watch.
7) Last night at bedtime, my son asked, “What’s a meshuga?” In my graciousness, I sputtered something like, “Wha…what…what? Where…where did you hear that word?” “In Lion King 1 1/2 , Timon’s mom says it to him.” Oooohh…well, I explained that it meant someone silly, someone foolish, and tried to follow that up with an explanation on what Yiddish is. Then I went on to explain what a mensch is, and bupkis, and I realized I need a Yiddish dictionary, because some words just sound better Yiddish. Oy.