Check Out My Bowl, Bitches

Dear Pamela,

Ah, yes. I missed you, too.

I’m sorry you will be unable to join us at the 2002 International Society of Poets’ Fall Convention and Symposium in Hollywood, California–the largest and most prestigious poetry event ever held. As you know, you were selected to be honored at this event, and we were looking forward to your presenting your poetic artistry in front of the more than 1900 poets from over 50 countries who will be attending.

Do you really think they got 1900 people to go to this thing? It makes me so sad. Maybe I could crash it — go down to Hollywood and Highland this weekend and look for the large group of weepy beret-wearers, all holding bowls and wearing medallions.

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Don’t Forget to Vote

It’s not that I like bragging, but I’m having a spectacular couple of weeks. I mentioned yesterday that I’m a semi-finalist for Austin Film. Just a week ago I was mistaken for Naomi Watts at a fancy Manhattan hotel (It’s true! Even though my friend laughed her ass off at the concept, I was mistaken for Miss Watts).

What? It’s not entirely impossible that I could get mistaken for her. I did have really sweaty messy hair in Manhattan because of the rain and the walking. I even smelled a little like booze and sweat and exhaustion, like any girl who just jetted from LA to NYC on the red-eye should smell.

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Unique Artistic Vision and Semi-Worthy Poetry

Caught up on TiVo, and it turns out that I hate the show I thought I’d like, and I like the show I thought I’d hate. How about that? The Anna Nicole Show was so disappointing. I couldn’t even find a reason to laugh. I just sat there staring, wondering why nobody bothered to make it funny. Obviously there was enough footage that it could have been funny, but it was cut in such a way it looked like the footage right before the Behind the Music guy goes, “But Anna Nicole’s lifestyle couldn’t take much more abuse.” And then every shot of her sliding into a tub with her stilettos scratching the finish would be in slow-motion over and over and over.

Then, I’m all giggling like an idiot at The Rerun Show, a show I wanted to see because I thought I’d hate it. The guy that does Mrs. Garrett cracks me up with every line. But, as Wing pointed out last night I just find Mrs. Garrett impressions funny, mostly because they remind me of my own Mrs. Garrett impression. (By the way, when you know you’ve got a good friend when she can totally call you on your shit and instead of blushing or getting defensive you crack up because she saw the truth where you were still trying to talk bullshit to yourself.) But I did find some of the parodies funny, when the actors find that one bad acting trait the original actor had and exaggerate it. Like having Tootie never stop flopping around and wiggling while she talked. Or how Kimberly was always having to wear some kind of dance outfit.

Ignoring the segue, I need to tell you the really exciting news I received just before I left for out of town: I may already have what it takes to be a writer. It’s true. I just received the documentation.

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Second Annual Squishy Valentine's Day Entry

i remember
that certain summer.
you were wearing that little bikini
and we played volleyball.
i thought it would be funny
to pull the string in the back
as you went for the spike.
man, i was right.
that was funny.
I wish you had a better sense of humor.
Happy Valentine’s Day.

more than coffee.
more than a new pack of cigarettes.
more than a naked matt damon.
more than a naked matt damon and a naked mena suvari
telling me to come to bed.
more than finding twenty bucks in my jeans pocket.
more than a pixies reunion.
wow.
i really do love you.

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size does matter

i just want to impress you with my length

When I was younger I remember daytime television being really interesting. I could watch five consecutive hours of talk shows. Now I couldn’t sit through five minutes of Sally or ten minutes of Ricki before I started looking around the house for something to do.

So, what I’m saying is: I’m bored.

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a quick jot

because i still consider myself on vacation

Back from vacation.

Very, very poor. Ih. Ate popcorn for dinner. A haiku, I think in these times:

Vegas. I lost cash.
I do every time I go.
Why do I go back?

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