Like the alcoholic friend who's fun when he's drunk

Sort of.

That's to what I'm comparing this '06-'07 Tar Heel basketball season. You know when you have this really funny friend who drinks way too much and he tells the funniest jokes when he's drunk and is just always "on time" and remembers the inside jokes you have and makes you feel special and then always makes the funniest scene of the party and you just want to get even drunker so you can be as funny as he is? I used to like to think I was That Guy. But I had to stop drinking ... for a number of reasons. Among them was that I was telling more inside SECRETS than jokes and I wasn't that fun to be around and did more stupid things than funny ones and alcohol became drugs and I guess every once in a while I was really on time but I couldn't come through in the clutch.

So what I mean is ... see: last night's loss to Maryland. It's almost shameful. But really it just hurts. Someone needs to have an intervention with the team, or maybe even Roy.

... that was Saturday and Sunday ... that's my whole weekend!

(please see Haiku Tunnel)

I spent Saturday vomiting with what I think was food poisoning, but at the time my cramping was so severe and regular (every 15 minutes) that everyone was concerned I was in premature labor so I went to hospital ... spent the following six hours receiving fluids and being ignored by doctors, midwives and nurses alike. I finally had to sign something saying I was leaving against the staff's wishes. Whatever. I feel much better after having gone home. I'm finally peeing and NOT vomiting, which is nice.

Happy non-weekend to the Vandegrifts.

A couple of fashion thoughts

or, rather, people:

vanessa minnillo. i have never seen her wear anything bearable. she's fond of metallic fabrics, i know. and ick. she either hired melissa buie ca 1993 to be her personal stylist or she has terrible taste. i'm thinking it's the latter b/c i hear melissa buie works with special needs kids in dallas.

chloe sevigny. i understand she's supposed to be a trend-setter. i can see that the clothes she wears are at least attempts to be nouveau or trendy or some word outside my vernacular. however i hate all but 10% of them. it's just me. i don't know much about fashion though.

mischa barton. somehow this girl got credit for knowing something about fashion. she has more hits than misses but i find that usually when she dresses up in a "frock," as the british would say, she looks nice. her voice is horrible.

nicole richie. pretty cute. too skinny. hate the scarves and bug-eye sunglasses.

reese witherspoon. i really don't like her. but she doesn't mess up often. she is preppy and ashamedly, so am i. however, she's still not as good as ...

kate winslet. everyone messes up, i'm sure, but damn she gets it right almost every time. i love her.

My daughter will sit on the step until she puts the Nemo cards away

I almost feel affection for this country

This morning I was shopping in an almost-ghetto section of London called Hounslow. Man I bought some cheap stuff there, and there's a KFC! But anyway, I saw this poster that almost made me cry ... it was of two metro-looking, very young guys, one behind the other -- the one behind leaning suggestively on the one in front. In huge letters it said, "HOMOPHOBIA. It's a crime. Report it."

Am I wrong, or would this never happen in the U.S.?

The hostess with the leastest

I hosted the neighborhood moms' tea today. I made carrot cake. I cleaned. I worried about whether I knew how to use my kettle. I cleaned. I cleaned.

No one showed up.

** Editor's note: Four people showed up 45 minutes late. I'd say 45 minutes is enough time to assume no one is coming, don't you? So I don't chastise myself for feeling pathetic for 30 minutes. And it was funny for a bit there ...

I have wrinkles

At some point in my youth ("my youth" -- as if 30 is old; I truly do not think it is) I decided that crow's feet were somewhat attractive on a 40-ish woman, that laugh lines give a woman character and reflect the joy of her lifetime. But that was before I woke up one day, aged 30, and looked at my reflection ... then noticed wrinkles. I'm totally serious. I'm too dumbfounded to count them, but there are few enough to count, which is somewhat pleasing. I forgot to look for the laugh lines or crow's feet around my mouth or eyes but they're probably there too. The real problem is my fivehead. What on earth happened? Is this really the result of too much sun in ... well, in my youth? Someone mentioned that maybe I'd just been surprised too much lately. But I'm already wondering if Botox would do me any good. (As if I could afford it.)

The most horrifying point to all this, in my personal opinion, is that I noticed the wrinkles for the first time two days ago. As I was applying bezoyl peroxide to my entire face to counteract the acne I've battled for the last 20 years. Literally: 20 years. How can I be facing both wrinkledom and acne at the same time? How is this fair? Well, then I think about how my mother actually asked me to pick at her face when I was at home. And though she ranks in my top-five people of all time, the woman has LOTS of wrinkles and unfortunately had about three or four Vesuvius-like blackheads on her face. She can't see them to save her life so she asked me to get them for her. And this, including complete blindness, is my destiny. *sigh*

On another note, I'd like the world to know that I've gained 23 pounds (almost 2 stone!) since last March and though I probably gained 5-7 of those before I got pregnant, that means I've still gained at least 16 pounds since the seed was planted, and ladies, this is not good. I am so going to be your Leah Remini friend.

In all honesty, I just want to make it to my children's weddings, maybe hold a couple of grandkids. I don't have to look good doing it. But, yeah, looking good wouldn't hurt.