HAPPY BIRTHDAY, GARY COLEMAN!
2006-02-08, 1:58 p.m.

Ha. I got an email this morning from one Heall Lefevre, and the subject is �Judah or axes�. I guess I pick axes, because that Judah was one backstabbing mofo. I don�t need that. I could totally clear some cedar, though, or even clear out my list of People Who Must Die, if I had me some axes. How many axes are we talking about, Heall?

In other news, we had some goddang quesa-dillahs for dinner again the other night, cooked on the Gary Coleman Grill, which is really a George Foreman Grill, but LG can�t stop saying Gary Coleman, and by the way, today is Gary�s 38th birthday. Anyway, I had my little cooking station set up, grilling first the onions, then the green peppers, then the chicken, etc, and I was really enjoying myself, because I am a woman of simple tastes and am easily entertained, and I could see the TV.

I told LG, who was doing homework at the table while I cooked, �I think I�ve found my calling. I�m a goddang quesa-dillah griller.�

He looked at me blankly for a moment, and then said, with dawning comprehension and relief, �Oh. I thought you said you found your colon.�

Wouldn�t that be a little disconcerting for the person cooking dinner to announce that they have found their colon?

***
The Big Work Proposition churns forward. At least, we haven�t come to a deadlock in the negotiations, although I think some dreadlocks in the negotiations might make things interesting. I�m excited, I�m scared, I�m worried about being discovered to be fraud that I know I really am, all that �Fear of Success� kind of bullshit. I called a friend in the same line of business that I�m going to be careening into, and asked about a thousand questions, and he answered my questions with more questions, so it�s all about asking the right questions and being comfie with the answers I get. First I have to figure out all the questions. But isn�t it fun when your questions just open more cans of questions? I�d rather be opening up cans of whoop-ass, myself, but it�s hard to finagle that into earning a living, at least when you�re one of the smaller, spiny mammals like me.

***
Speaking of whoop-ass and all its redneck connotations, tonight�s the big rodeo night. Um, you know? It�ll be fun. I like the rodeo, I like live performances like music and comedy, and it�s all about getting over my tendency toward inertia, putting on my getting-up-to-go-out clothes, and forcing myself to stay awake past 9:00. I wonder if DW would mind if I brought my Big Book of S�dookie? I could wear one of those little headlamps...and shit, give me some straight-leg jeans and sensible black loafers, and I�ll be set for the nerd rodeo.

But really, calf-roping and barrel-racing and bull-riding are not things I see every day, and it�s always interesting and entertaining. Horses PREEETTY. Plus, it�s fun to pick out the women with their big man-catching hair, and see what their name is written on their western belt. There are a lot of Crystals, Tanyas, Donnas and Pams. Not to make fun of actual cool people with those names; I feel your pain, as your names have been hijacked by the cowfolks.

And then after all the livestock runnin� and jumpin�, there�s Bill Engvall, who is perhaps the most normal and least redneck of all the blue collar comedy tour comedians. Seriously, I don�t think I would have accepted tickets to see Larry the Cable Guy. Sleeves cut off the shirt with those big, flabby fat-boy arms? Ew. I don�t want to look at that.

***

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, GARY COLEMAN!