funky chicken

so here's the thing. i just stop. i feel like, this is so dumb. no one reads this. it's like what i hear in my head when i am trying to refrain from sounding like a weird stirrup panted dog mom talking to small dogs. but then if i don't, it's not here. so here, it's back.

really it's been a quiet october. weather's been good. dogs have been about the same. no houses to look at on the market. doing some work. got glasses so i can read better.

just this morning i acted like a weird bad jeaned dog lady at the park. the dogs were just shit heads. they were irrirating. i was irritated. i felt fat. i felt cranky. they were sniffing the air and not listening. i dropped a leash and had to go find it.

but i catch myself talking to them in ways i hear other middle aged ladies talking to their dogs. and i am wearing running shoes! and i say to them, in completely public places, where other people can overhear, albeit people with dogs, things like, "come on you guys. we're going to be late. timmy put that down, ruby let's go. pop get out of that." but it's like a conplete conversation. it sounds weird and loony and like i never talk to actual humans.

we love Big Love on tv. we rent it. I loved marie antoinette. the costumes were stunning and the dialog was just like paris hilton channeling little thoughts into kirsten dunst's mouth. i saw amy sedaris last night, she made a craft. we have the same middle name, somehow i ended up sitting practically in her lap and we chit chatted briefly over that. she isn't at all fat and is teensy actually and very cute.

people, are you reading this? do you know how obsessed i can be over these bad 10 lbs that have settled on my hips, the fact that otterpop barks at judges and that i don't live on a ranch? what kind of life is that. oprah would kick me in the ass if she knew me. i have a large lack of gratitude for what i have most of the time and am absorbed in weird things. luckily i am doing pen drawings again!