tiaras optional

"My only argument is with those who do not view the world as cynically as I do." Michael Korda

Tuesday, May 30, 2006

The All-Grumpy Edition

1. I woke up (much too early) with a sense of dread hanging over me. Not a good way to start the week.

2. I am in full on grump mode at the moment. I ate way too much meat yesterday and am apparently still feeling the effects of a meat coma. The cooking out was good, it’s just that I seem to have no self-control.

3. People are saying that maybe Britney isn’t the worst mother ever and that the press is too hard on her even if she does forget to put her baby in a car seat, or puts the car seat in the car wrong, or almost drops the baby because her pants are too long and she just had to carry that glass of water too, but I still think she’s not exactly the best mother, because yesterday I saw my friend June hold her baby in one arm and consume an entire plate of food with the other, so it can be done people. (I do feel sorry for Sean Preston though, because, let’s face it, he hasn’t exactly won the genetic lottery with those two Mensa candidates for parents.)

4. I tried to break in three different pairs of shoes this weekend, so I now have blisters pretty much all over my feet.

5. I have recently published two articles of clothing (a top and a dress) that, although they fit, are hard to get in and out of. After wearing both pieces, I discovered that they both have those side zippers that make getting in and out much easier. I’m not sure how I missed the zippers previously, but it made me feel kinda dumb.

6. I can’t decide if I am sick, or if it’s allergies, or if I’m just really tired, but I feel like a Mack truck ran over me and left me for dead on the side of the road.

7. The Snow Patrol show on Wednesday has been postponed, new date TBD. I’m bitter.

8. I found out yesterday that this guy I sort of dated like six years ago is now completely bald (he had a small bald spot at the time, but it wasn’t very noticeable because he had a lot of hair). His complete baldness made me smile because he was kind of a jerk. (Not that I have been maintaining extreme bitterness for six years or anything.)

9. It’s too fucking hot. It’s gone from pleasant spring to beastly summer and I’m just not ready. Also, when it’s hot, my fat little fingers swell up, so my wedding ring is way too tight at the moment.

10. I woke up early everyday this weekend, despite going to bed late most nights. Saturday morning, I got on the internets and started buying shit, and I finally had to force Lord Kissington to wake up and stop me from spending all our money.

11. I realized that since getting married I haven’t done anything responsible in terms of money, like making my new husband the beneficiary of my life insurance, bank accounts, and retirement accounts. Regarding the topic of what would happen if I were to die, we also came to an agreement that after my demise, he could sleep with Rachel Weisz, but he is totally not allowed to sleep with Angelina Jolie. He thinks I’m being arbitrary, but I pointed out that she likes to bring knives into the bedroom, and did he really think that was a good idea? He has no issue with any of the people I might want to go for if he died, other than pointing out that Anderson Cooper would probably not be interested in me.

12. I read Bergdorf Blondes this weekend, and although it was mildly amusing, I found it be really badly written, which made think that if the hated Plum Sykes can write a book this shitty, surely I could crank out something better. I’m not under any illusions as to my talent, but I know I could write something better than that. Of course, that would mean I would have to get up off my ass and do something.


  • At 5/30/06, 6:11 PM, Anonymous Pagan Marbury said…

    I read Bergdorf Blondes, and while it was a fun beach read, grand literature it was not. Are you going to read her new one? Have you read The Devil Wears Prada by Sykes' arch enemy at Vogue? I was exhausted by the time I finished reading.

  • At 5/30/06, 8:56 PM, Blogger JordanBaker said…

    I still don't buy that it was a glass of water that Britney was carrying.

  • At 5/31/06, 3:37 AM, Blogger Pretty Lil' Dreamer said…

    I'm sorry you're grumpy-welcome to my world!
    I enojoyed the read though-it's always funnier when stuff happens to someone else-though, they are just everyday annoyances-nothing to get your feathers ruffled over-but again, it's easier said when looking in on someone else.
    Lord it's hot out...

  • At 5/31/06, 5:00 AM, Blogger Vegas Princess said…

    I completely agree with number 6 and wish I were feeling better.

    Rachel Weiz is a much better option, much more class...never know what you're going to get with Angelina: vials of blood, weird African rituals in the bedroom or perhaps she may trick him into adopting yet another child. Rachel would be so much more fun!

    Oh, and I thought the same about Bergdorf...you probably can do so much better than that poor excuse for a book.

  • At 5/31/06, 3:57 PM, Blogger schadenfreude said…

    cool that you publish your clothes, and should I be doing that?

  • At 5/31/06, 4:50 PM, Blogger Lady Tiara said…

    pagan: i think i'm going to skip plum's latest. i may have to read the devil wears prada, just because i am interested in anyone who is plum's archenemy (did i mention that i really can't stand plum sykes?).

    jb: neither do i. if it were vodka, that might explain why she was wearing that unfortunate outfit. seriously, a pregnant woman wearing a backless halter with her bra AND thong showing? euuuwww.

    pld: i love reading about other people's grumpiness and annoying experiences.

    amanda: i agree. rachel seems pretty cool, and angelina seems like so much work. she would always be wanting you to jet off to some african country to save people when you really just want to sit around the house and play videogames.

    schadenfreude: clearly, i'm an idiot. (my clothes have only been published in obscure journals so far, but i just ordered this adorable jacket and i'm really hoping she'll be accepted at the new yorker.)


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