I am in the middle of Christmas cards. Not literally. I'd have to be awfully, you know, flat. But I am in the middle of WRITING them, and it is at times like this that I wish Marvin had insisted that I convert to Judaism.
I left off on the Ls and I have already written 33 cards. And that doesn't even count the people of Tiny Town, who for some reason I have listed in a separate book, because everything needs to be as difficult as possible.
And can you tell me why I know so many Bs? And I do not mean beeyotches, I mean literally people whose names start with the letter B. It's like Sesame Street came over and took up residence in my address book. June's address book is brought to you by the letter B.
Can I just tell you a story that has the F word in it? If you are going to lose your mind and your eyeballs are going to pop out and burst into flames, then just bleep over the next paragraph.
My old neighbor Alicia back in LA was from Spain and although she spoke English really well, sometimes she messed it up in really hilarious ways. Alicia had a run-in with a celebrity, and oh, how I wish I could tell you who the celebrity was but I am afraid that somehow I will get sued or something. You know, with all the really high-powered people reading this fascinating blog. Anyway, Alicia called me to tell me about the celebrity and how awful she was, and she said, "Meja, she was a fuckin' B." Like, somehow Alicia thought the F word was perfectly okay to say, but man, you'd better say "B" and not "bitch."
But none of this is why I gathered you all here today. My REAL reason was so that we could poke fun at yet another faithful reader's photograph.
Faithful reader Apronstrings sent me this picture of her in Italy, from a trip she took last week.
Okay, how long am I gonna drag that joke out each time, with the obviously dated photographs? Actually, Apronstrings dates this photo to circa 1983, she is not entirely sure, seeing as she LIVED in Italy for a few YEARS, and we are all supposed to feel sorry for her that she wore these unfortunate shorts.
Now, Apronstrings was particularly mortified by her hair in this photograph, but I don't think think it's that bad. First of all, Marvin is going to be passionately in love with her because he likes him a redhead SO BAD, and secondly she was able to quite successfully achieve the Farrah thing that I could never, ever get no matter what I did. So I am retroactively envious of the hair.
Really, Apronstrings, I continue to be fascinated by the shorts. They are mom jeans, they are acid wash, they are, you know, rolled up, AND you have added a jaunty red belt. Really, they are all-the-way-around flattering.
Who do you think is delighted that she sent me the photograph? Do you think it's Apronstrings? What if she STILL OWNS the shorts? What if she has them on right now? Do you think I have lost her as a reader? Do you think there is any way I can get her to send them to me, so I can wear them around a, you know, railroad track or wherever she's wearing them here? Do you think it'd be like Sisterhood of the Traveling Shorts, and they'd be this pretty on me, too?
Do you think she is using the F word or the B word about me right about now? Are you gonna tell us? Apronstrings? Hello…?