WHO’S THAT GIRL? I went for a long walk thi afternon as part of my “feel good/look good” plan, and since I didn’t see any use in fixing myself up BEFORE sweating for an hour I donned a cinched black trenchcoat, black baseball hat and oversized sunglasses. I headed to an area where I was least likely to run into anyone I knew – the local seaside amusement park. I was aware of the fact that I looked like a movie/rock star with the don’t-recognize-me-or-you’ll-turn-into-a-pillar-of-salt thing goin’ on. In fact, my inner monologue was imaginging that I was mid-1970′s Elizabeth Taylor: more curves than straight-aways, slightly bloated, but still awe-inspiring. I held on to this fantasy just long enough to calculate the median age of the passers-by giving me that special inquisitive look, and only then did I come to the conclusion that they were actually thinking, “Is that Rosie O’Donnell?!” Which begged the question:

What mistaken-identity-almost-a-celebrity-look-a-likes populate your corner of the world? Here in our little town there are a lot of Billy Bob Thorntons and Nick Noltes. There’s an abundance of Vanessa Redgraves and one or two middle-aged Gwen Stefanis, but she’s on the arm of a Drew Carey instead of a Gavin Rossdale. There are too many Tom Greenes and not enough George Clooneys; oodles of Hillary Duffs, Joan Osbornes and Kelly Osbournes, but only one Seal.

Makes you wonder. Okay, maybe not.

Kim

P.S. I LOVE…the thighs on speed skaters

RECENTLY DISCOVERED OPTIONAL DIALOGUE FOR 97.44% OF OLYMPIC ICE DANCING ROUTINES. At least this is my best guess after watching way too much ice dancing, way too late at night.

Boy/Girl (together): Here we are!
Boy: I love you
Girl: I love you, too
Boy: This is nice, the skating, the dancing
Girl: Whee!
Boy: I think I’ll hold you near
Girl: Wait, I’ve decided I hate you
Boy: Come back here!
Girl: No, stay away
Boy: But we had a love
Girl: A shameful, hurtful love
Boy: But who else can please you like this?!
Girl: I look the other way thusly!!
Boy: Damnit, wench, you’re mine, now and always!
Girl: The confusion is making me spin
Boy: My love lifts you high
Girl: I melt for you after all
Boy: We are together again. The happiness makes me giddy. And spin.
Girl: Whee!
Boy/Girl (together): Here we are!

DIZZYING HEIGHTS or JUMP JIVE AND WAIL (or is it TWIST AND SHOUT?). Along with the hours and hours of figure skating, I’ve also been watching the other, less diva-populated sports. Last night I watched the freestlye ski-jumping. Is that what it’s called? It reminded me of the Summer Olympics’ high dive competition for two reasons: 1) they start up high and end down low, 2) I have no idea how to watch them twist, turn or flip. Really. The commentator can detail every double or triple this or that, and I can be staring at the athlete in action, and I still cannot tell what’s going on. “Aaaww…” the informed announcer will say, “He tried for a triple and had to pull out at the double, leaving the last three-quarters of the twist for his next run.” Really? I would have probably just said, “Wow! Look at him go,” every time, for every jump. I would know when to throw in, “Well, he fell down that time,” or maybe “His outfit is white with blue stripes,” and I can spot a good landing from a bad. But please, tell me I’m not the only one who feels like I’m watching my blender while making a smoothie, trying to find the banana in the whirlwind.

Kim

MARITAL DISCLAIMER or NOW THAT YOU BOUGHT THE COW CAN WE BE VEGETARIANS? I was listening to my usual news radio station yesterday and heard the following disclaimer that will fit nicely into my arsenal during “rocky relationship moments.” You know those moments, the ones when you’re engaged in aggressive and audibly enhanced dialogue with your partner and one or the other lets slip a reference to how the other “used to be.” Maybe it’s a comment about tidiness, energy level, instances of actual romance, libido or even just ‘being more fun.” I have now found the proper response to any such comment, real or implied. Here it is:

“Past performance does not guarantee future results.”

PASS ME A GREEN BEAN…NO REALLY – JUST ONE GREEN BEAN. So, another inspiration came to me from an unexpected source yesterday. I’d been hearing on the news about Saddam Hussein’s hunger strike and suddenly it hit me – I’m going to go on a hunger strike of my own. I haven’t decided on my exact demands yet, but my motives might be a little different that the usual strikers. And my methods. See, I’m not going to stop eating, I’m just going to eat a little less and therefore remain slightly “hungry.” Afterall, it’s not called a “starving strike.” Once I settle on the moral outrage that backs my hungry stance, I’ll have an obligation to stick to a plan of eating less, something I have yet to achieve without a mission statement.

In other news, my family appears to be on a “carelessness and sloth strike.” Their demands are unclear, but I suspect they include cartoons and sugar.

Kim

MOTIVATING CIRCUMSTANCES or PERFORMING THE FORMERLY UNEXAMINED TASK. My days are filled with mundane activities, repeated chores and lackluster errands. More often than not I’ll procrastinate as long as possible and then achieve enviable quantities of crap in record time (see me at the Bonneville Salt Flats for the bank-to-post-office-to-market-to school-pick-up land speed trials. I’ll be driving the Goldfish and cold french fry-modified Dodge Caravan). However, I have hit upoon a motivator that gets me through these soul-sucking tasks with some modicum of my sanity left in tact, if your definition of sanity includes role-play and imaginary camera crews and audiences. I have discovered that folding 61 (that’s an odd number, damnit) white socks will push me over the edge, but starring in my own DIY show, “Secrets of Fluffing and Folding” is almost entertaining. Simply pretend that you are an international expert at whatever is on your list today and proceed as if teaching a live and/or broadcast audience the tricks of your trade. This accomplishes two important goals: 1) the chores are completed, 2) you realize just exactly how much thought, experience and expertise you have culled after years (nee eons) of toilet scrubbing, dishwasher loading and dustball wrangling. This weekend you can see me live on my special show, “Redecorating the Disgusting and Awkwardly Shaped Bathroom, With Your Host, Kim.” Hmmm..the homeowner seems to have left us a real mess to wade through…

Match the following quotes to the appropriate episode:

QUOTES:

“If the dirty sock comes to me inside out – it goes back to the wearer inside out. Better the one to dirty the object sticks his or her hand in the sullied object.”

“The third strike offense will be dealt with by the disappearance of ALL the washcloths, for a period to be determined by the launderess.”

“Clean the child’s room with an opaque contractor’s bag. The color, shape and muffled sound will be masked by the industrial appearance. Rocking ‘n Rolling Elmo passes for a wad of dirty diapers under veil of brown plastic. “

“Fresh fruits and vegetables do not adhere to the interior of the produce bag – skip the smell test and dispense immediately.”

“Knives go blade first, so unloading is not a risky endeavor. Other cutlery goes handle first so they don’t “spoon” during the cycles.”

EPISODES:

“Cleaning Out the Refrigerator: Use Your Five Senses (Sometimes Your Sixth)”

“Mildewed Rags in the Corner of the Tub: Nag or Snag?”

“Dishwasher Loading, From a Loaded Dishwasher”

“The Souls of my Feet Are Permanently Imprinted With Lego Marks”

“It’s Bad Enough I have to Sort Your Stinky Garments, Don’t Expect More”

Well then. It’s off to step one: remove everything from the bathroom. Ugh. Let’s go to commercial.

Kim