January: The best part is, in high school I was voted (more than once) “The Girl Most Likely To Have An Affair With Her Poetry Professor.”
February: Okay, first things first: Nashville is motherfucking COLD.
March: Oscar Review:/ I absolutely KNOW that I cannot be the only motherfucker who died about a million deaths when Lauren Bacall came out there slurring and staggering through that intro.
April: The only good part about this bastard cold from which I am currently suffering, is that when I speak…I sound exactly like Bea Arthur.
May: Okay, you know you have officially become an Angeleno when, after seeing a Del Shores play at The Zephyr, you duck over into Canter’s Deli…and eat a late supper of a Reuben and matzoh soup whilst sitting five feet away from Rodney Bingenheimer.
June: Sometimes a good public shaming is all that’s needed to break it down for a motherfucker.
July: Last night we purchased a new work laptop for me and it should be zinging its little self to my tender little meathooks even as we speak.
August: Gosh, I have to tell you that I am completely bowled over by all of the generous and amazing responses to last week’s incident involving our daughter.
September: I saw Little Miss Sunshine last week, and please allow me to tell you that you absolutely cannot get your fatasses to that theatre fast enough, my friends.
October: Prepare to BELLY LAUGH like you’ve never belly laughed before, my friends. I am literally pissing my granny panties: (insert Little Superstar video here)
November: I had a big scrapbook when I was a teenager — one into which I would lovingly paste concert ticket stubs, pictures, letters, notes, hospital bracelets, friendship bracelets, pressed flowers, report cards, dance bids, fast food napkins, and other assorted and ridiculous teenaged girl treasures that I wished to preserve for forever.
December: Ted Hughes and Sylvia Plath saved my life.
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