"I DON'T WANNA WAIT!!! For our lives to be overrrrrrr! I want to know right now!! What will it BEEEEEEE!!!!!"
My hairless armpits and I watched an episode of "Dawson's Creek" this morning, a really good one I missed when it originally aired. (Paula Cole sings the theme song and she had hairy armpits last time I saw her. We used to go out to lunch all the time, but apparently I offended her with one too many Polish jokes. She may have shaved by now. Let me ask my assistant to google that. "Ethel, can you google whether Paula Cole is still sporting pit beards? Thanks.")
OK, it was really, really good. The stupidly ornate vocabulary was kept to a minimum. Joey and Pacey had been lip-lockin' it for a couple of episodes (yummy to watch) and were now at the point where they Must Inform Dawson. It was filmed three different times, each time from a different character's perspective. Dawson actually had tears in his eyes. It was heartbreaking. I'm almost - ALMOST - tempted to rent the whole season so I can see what happens next. ("Ethel, google what season that episode's in. Yeah, the one where Dawson freaks out and snorts coke. HA! Yeah! More drug humor! I know, I kill you. Thanks, Ethel.")
We're watching some movie with Pierce Brosnan and Julianne Moore - they're lawyers and they wake up married. Apparently she talks in her sleep. ("Ethel. The one where Pierce has long shaggy Bohemian hair and Julianne's mother is the chick that plays Rose's mother in Titanic. Yeah, I know they're the same age. Just check it for me. And move my spastic cat who insists on planting his furry little butt in front of the computer monitor. Oh, stop it, is it my fault he thinks your watch is a toy? Take that dumb thing off. Will you quit that sniveling? Go get a tetanus shot if you're so worried. Yeah, bite you too.")
I had a dream about a guy in our bishopric last night - we'll call him "Harry." In my dream, Harry was the leader of the band I was auditioning for. He actually played on the BYU football team and works for the FBI now, so any band he'd be leading would be a roving band of thugs, and not anything the least bit musical. However, I found myself in an impromptu audition last night, and I stunk up "Somebody To Love" pretty awfully. But he's so nice, he'd never say anything negative, no matter how bad it was. He heard me sing, he stifled back some serious laughter, and then he said to me, "Uh... tell me what to say."
I said, "Tell me it's not the worst singing you've ever heard."
"It's not the worst singing I've ever heard."
"Now tell me it wasn't the best it could have been."
"It wasn't the best it could have been."
"Now say, 'Actually it was pretty stinky.'"
But there, he could not pull the trigger.
("Ethel, now my cat is yowling at the window. When's that neuter appointment? Can't we buy, like, a kitty muzzle or a home neutering kit or something? Yeah, google that.")
At that point, I woke up and thought, "I ate too much last night. Good grief, that burger was huge."
("ETHEL!!! That stupid cat just jumped on my Crock-Pot! Will you get him the heck out of here!")
Then I turned the TV on and watched some "Murphy Brown," the one where Miles is interviewed for a magazine and misquoted as saying, "I'm just a guy looking for a plaything to fulfill my sick whims" or some such thing, and flipped back and forth between it and Silence of the Lambs, the part where that dope Jodie Foster rings the doorbell, whips out her badge, and bounces into - -
("WAIT A MINUTE! Is that Elton John murdering "Signed, Sealed, Delivered" on that Pierce Brosnan movie? Holy crap, my idiot cat yowling at the window sounds less annoying! Ethel! Find out who sings that song on that movie. And quit filing your nails all over my paperwork. It leaves dust, you know. Yeah, whine, whine, whine. Call your therapist, that's right. Your boss is a great big jerk. Cry about it.")
...um, Buffalo Bill's house, the guy who starves the fat chicks and then ... yeah, you've probably seen it. It's too gross to describe. Oh, you haven't seen it? Hang on.
("Ethel, while you're on the phone, tell your therapist I'm threatening to do what Buffalo Bill does after he starves the fat chicks in Silence of the Lambs. I know you haven't seen it. Go ahead, ask him.")
*hehehehheheheheehehehhe*
("Ethel, what's wrong? Don't look at me like that. I was just kidding! It was a joke! Ethel, where are you going? Why are you crying?? What did I say??!? Hey! Does this mean you're not taking my cat to the vet tomorrow?")
*slam*
Crap.