May
02
2007
Oh, my chickens, you have been so patient. So, so, patient! In fact, it's sort of sweet how patient you've been when one thinks about the absolute rubbish you're waiting to hear about. But thank you for being so patient! And to the people who emailed me things like "WHERE IS THE BACHELOR POST? WRITE IT NOW!", well, thank you as well. It's sort of bizarrely flattering to be chased in such a way. I almost want to give each and every one of you a rose.
Oh, I know. I know, I know, I know. I've failed you, haven't I? Those of you on the East Coast are probably already watching the newest episode of The Bachelor RIGHT NOW, and I haven't even given you last week's recap yet. I'm terrible! I'm awful! I don't deserve you lovely readers and your hilarious comments!
First, let me clarify: I am hardly ever bored in Target. I am, after all, human. There are far too many racks of cheaply-made skirts in Target for one to ever get bored (I bought this one this weekend! In "Tendril Green"!), and also the candy selection is fairly bitchin'.
The other day, my mother was walking back to my apartment from the grocery store, when she passed a man on the street, a vaguely homeless man, who sort of leered at her and called out "have you been a doughboy all your life?"
Do you realize that tonight is The Bachelor finale, and that we only have one more Secret Bachelor Tuesday Wednesday Friday The Following Tuesday Whenever to get through after this? I know! What will we do when it's all over? Well, I guess we'll have to talk about real things again, like politics and current affairs and how gross Spencer from The Hills is and what a fool Heidi is for staying with him.
"Where the fff........FENG SHUI are my shoes?"
Oh! It's just so...final, isn't it?
"How dull it is to pause, to make an end,
To rust unburnish'd, not to shine in use!"
---Tennyson, Ulysses
First of all, thank you so much for all your wonderful comments and e-mails on the Memorial Day post. Thank you for sharing these personal strands of your history with someone you've never met, for trusting your fragile fragments of family lore to a person who is really, for all intents and purposes, still just a voice inside the computer. I feel like each of you handed me not a story but a four-leaf clover, a bird's nest, a perfectly-formed bubble, and said "here is something precious; look after it." And I will. Thank you all so much again.
