Mmm mmm good

J and I had the most peculiar discussion this morning. I was fixing myself a PB&J, and he commented on my use of strawberry jelly. He thought it was a sacrilege to put anything but grape jelly on peanut butter. I informed him that it was all a matter of taste, but he insisted that it is a commonly known fact that peanut butter only goes with grape jelly, while strawberry goes very well on toast or muffins. ??? I guess I shouldn't tell him how much I love apple jelly. So, it was another instance of agreeing to disagree, which really does work for those of you who wonder. Besides, I don't criticize him when he insists on buying creamy Jif. Everyone knows that Skippy crunchy is the only way to fly. I love that stuff. And I'll admit something that I would never ever ever admit in public, I love to eat it by the spoonful. Not that I sit and pig out with a jar of peanut butter in my lap, but it gives me a fix when I need one.

Let's see, did the laundry, cleaned the bathroom, did the dishes.

I'm going over to see R&W this weekend. It's a weekend of camp. No, not that kind, although that would be fun. The weather is extraordinary. No, I mean Valley of the Dolls camp, and whatever R has to surprise us with. Just as long as we don't have to suffer through Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf again, because gawd, I'd have to go out and kill myself that movie is so depressing. But I love VotD. And we both agree, though that Anne—a.k.a. Barbara Parkins—didn't suffer nearly enough before she kicked the dolls. I mean really, one bad trip, you throw yourself on the beach, get washed in by the tide, and that's it? Give me a break. I want body bags that you have to rip yourself out of with your toe. Another classic moment in film history. Damn Jacqueline, is this supposed to be anyone we know? How great is Hollywood....

So it's camp and cocktails. In fact, my invite said to bring me and my liver, so I know what that means. You know, I went three whole damn weeks without a cigarette, and now this. There's no way to get out of it this time. Oh well. At least I know I can quit if I have to. So funny that I don't have an addictive personality, except for things that are so not real, like Star Trek and Charmed, and sex, too, and that truly is real. Thank my stars it's real! And you know, in my last life, my name was Heidi Abramowitz.

So, if you don't hear from me in a while, call up Betty Ford and have me paged. Bye.

I was silly enough to write this at 1:53 PM