 TiVo + Me = Love |
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In impossibly glorious news, I have my new TiVo. It is happy, sunny, and gay. The Best Buy guy gave me an even exchange, all the while asking me such savvy questions as, "Didn't this come with a keyboard?" I just blinked and stared at him, like, you have got to be kidding me. I practically skipped out of the parking lot clutching the box to my breast and set it up immediately. I'm really enjoying TV Revolution on Bravo. I mean, there are few things on television I savor more than clip shows based on a certain topic when such clips include segments of shows I once loved that aren't available to me any other way anymore. I am easy to please. Throw me some Zwick/Herskovitz talking heads and my life is complete. I have caught myself fantasizing that the clips of thirtysomething will arouse a surge of interest that will groundswell itself into the show magically being released on DVD. Here's what I think about Fantasia Barrino. I think that what makes her good is her confidence, her presence, and her ability to emote like a motherfucker when she sings. I firmly believe that her voice would grate atrociously had she the plastic smiley delivery of, say, Jasmine Trias, or the personality void of say, John Stevens. Fantasia knows how to work the stage, the audience, and the song. Period. She does not have a better voice than Kelly Clarkson or Tamyra Gray or even LaToya, I don't think. But she has an undeniable presence that draws you into her performance and makes you cry right along with her. I don't think that's something that can be taught, and it is gratifying to see such a natural talent get some recognition. I can't believe I am sitting here giving this so much thought, but there you go. I think after we get back from Europe, I'm going to road trip up to the Northeast with my sister if I can get the time off. I really want to see where she'll be living and going to school for the next three years. She told me that my mom saw all of the anti-Bush signs around campus and was highly chagrined and worried that my sister will become (hushed, whispered tone) a liberal. I have to say that I found that mildly hilarious. I think that certain topics are just best left undiscussed between family members. I mean, my mother does not want to hear that I think the president is the devil, nor do I want to hear that she thinks he's a good person. That would be a fruitless conversation during which we would both just get upset that the other one is an idiot when it comes to politics. What's the point? I finally found a dress for an upcoming wedding. It's a black halter dress from Ann Taylor, where I never shop, but it was on sale. I plan to thrust out my bosoms with great vigor. My biological clock has begin to tick so uproariously that I behold toddlers and practically fall prostrate to the floor. I am resorting to using these weddings as a quest to find my future husband. Surely there's a guy with some suitable sperm who will be a guest at at least one of them. I mean, it is time to be proactive. I keep having dreams about spawning forth precious dark-haired babies. Speaking of precious dark-haired babies, here's a new one of me and the MOST precious of dark-haired babies from an Easter crawfish boil.  About this time in ...
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