Saturday, after work

Life's too short to fold one's underpants, don't you think?

I know people whose underpants get ironed.  Do yours?

It's finally Saturday evening.  It's windy out.  The air is cool.

I'm watching Stage Beauty.  Claire Danes is looking good.  So is Billy Crudup.  (How do you pronounce his last name?) 

But I was interrupted by P2... an interruption that pleases me when I see that she has IMed when I stepped away to put in a load of laundry.  Information: she's going away but will be "out" tomorrow at a T Dance (Tea?).  Hmmm. I've never been before to the Sunday afternoon socializing opportunity.  Is this the time to go?  I'm wondering.

It's a frigid 69 degrees inside my home. There is only a thin plastic screen between me and the elements where the air conditioner sits in the window.  I have often thought about applying some of the instant foam insulation to the cracks. (I don't know that the landlord would mind... or even notice.) R called the stuff, which filled the spaces between the logs in her cabin, "t**t pus." 

I can't decide if sleep really is everything it feels like it will be or if I want to call L before it's her pajama time and see if she wants to go out.  Or maybe R2.  Hmmm.  Staying warm in bed grows more appealing every moment.  And I do like Claire Danes... and her non-Hollywood proboscis.  (And I do have more movies to watch in my library sack.)

You think Billy does Yoga?  He's got one of those bodies.... He's definitely a sinker.

Ya'll know what a sinker is?   Someone with such a small degree of body fat that they sink right to the bottom of the pool. 

Now we come to the end of the play in "Stage Beauty" -- for a second there, they had me fooled.  But he ends up kissing her?  Yeah, that's not gonna last. She's just made him bi- is all.

I can't believe Hollywood is still cranking out reversal flicks.  See, throughout film history, homosexuality was hinted at, veiled, made sly fun of.  One (or both) of the women had to be saved by a man.  To wit, "The Fox" based on D.H. Lawrence's story about two women ("March" and "Banfield") living together in a rural setting when a man comes on the scene, kills one by felling a tree on her and makes the other one a real woman... rescuing her from the evil.  Or "The Children's Hour."  Shirley McClaine is in love with Audrey Hepburn, so naturally, she has to hang herself when threats of exposure of her true nature will cause the two to close the school they run. 

Thank God for two out of three happy endings in "If These Walls Could Talk II." 

 

V and I used to joke about having a houseboy/chef to attend us so we could stay in bed.  We even named him.  (Sorry, that will remain private.)   Right now, I 'd send him to the store.  My body is begging for more carbohydrates. But it's cold and it's windy and I don't want to spend money or even have to slip back into work clothes.  Besides, the cat is cuddled beside me... how dare I ask her to move?

I brought her a cool toy yesterday.  It is a rubber ball with a bunch of smaller balls pimpling it.  It bounces erratically and boings about around the floor as if animated.         Oooo, good toy!