How I spent the flight

Greetings my little pecan loaves. Last night I took a red eye flight back to New York. Normally I take flights that arrive late at night and then I suffer something I've dubbed "traveler's melancholy" which is where I feel kind of lonely and overwhelmed with all my suitcases and thoughts. When I flew back from Canada last month the show put me on a super early flight which got me back in the morning and I realized I like arriving in daylight so I thought perhaps a red eye would be all kinds of awesome because I wouldn't have to haul ass to get to the airport in time and I'd arrive with the whole day stretching out before me. What I didn't quite take into account was how disoriented I would feel on the other side of the flight. But whereas the flight time from NYC to CA was a cruel seven hours, the time going the other direction was only four hours and twenty minutes or something like that and no, that's not a pot reference. Although I snacked like I was stoned. You know what's kind of healthy? The way JetBlue now offers hundred calorie packs of cookies. You know what's less healthy? Eating three of them and a bag of munchie mix. I suppose it's sort of balanced out by the way I only ate scrambled egg whites the day before because I was feeling kind of nauseous, if by balanced out you mean there goes all your hard work, fat ass. But anyway, would you like a breakdown of my activities in the air?

flight time: 4 hrs, 20 mins approx

flipped continuously through 36 channels of satellite TV: 4 hrs

worried that incessant channel surfing would annoy guy next to me: 2 mins

put on sleep mask and then took it off and then put it on and then took it off and then put it on and then took it off: 20 mins

debated snack options: 4 mins

picked through a bag of munchie mix looking for pretzels: 10 mins

ate a few cheetos from the bag. also, some doritos and sun chips: 8 mins

ate the whole damn bag which was NOT THE ORIGINAL PLAN: 6 mins

yes, I know I spent about 24 mins with that evil bag of munchie mix which I wish I'd never opened

tipped my head back and poured munchie dust down my throat: 2 mins

ripped bag open and rubbed it all over my body: 2 mins

smeared orange grease under my eyes and ran up and down the aisles screaming: 3 mins

tried to wipe orange shit off my hands but realized I didn't have a napkin: 1 min

remembered I had an old kleenex in my coat pocket: 1 min

fished around coat pocket but coat was around my legs like a blanket so finding pocket involved kind of feeling up guy next to me: 2 mins

explained to guy next to me that while it was fun, I don't want to be tied down right now: 3 mins

wondered why everything was all wet in the bathroom: 3 mins

slept: 17 mins, GIVE OR TAKE

slept like a log thru landing so that when I woke up the lights in the plane were on and people were standing up and I was confused: 3 mins

I'm not even adding all this up because I know it's more than the flight time. No wonder it felt so long!

At the gym; reality tv

I'm at the gym not taking an abdominal class because yesterday I decided to get on some machine and do a few crunches and then the gym asked me to stop because I was doing it so well the other gym patrons were getting discouraged. "Save it!" I said, holding up a sculpted arm. "Story of my life." It actually is, and the first line is, "Call me sculpted arm." Catchy, right? It's been ripped off left and right, which is also the story of my life. That one starts, "It was the best of arms, it was the worst of arms." Around that time Hemingway came out with Farewell to Arms, which I took as a personal affront, so I went into witness protection. Ernie was always doing stuff like that, and I realize that now, but at the time I was really trying to be safe. Anyway, that's why I'm not in that class, but damn you, that's not what I was planning on talking about today! You're just too distracting, you know that? When I look into your eyes I see myself. Very tiny in your pupils. There I am! Waving! Wait hold still I think I have something in my eye. Sorry, am I making you uncomfortable? I can almost make it out.

So I've put up with a lot of shark jumping from Keeping Up With The Kardashians and I've loved them all the same, refusing to see the obvious contrivances, because such is my love. But last night they just pushed me too far with the completely impossible to believe calendar mix up. For the uninitiated, which is probably all of you, I will briefly recap:

For her boyfriend's bday, Kim Kardahsian decides to make a sexy calendar exclusively for him and she even gets her butt sucked by a vacuum in advance so her cellulite will be lint free. Then she has this photo shoot and her boyfriend actually shows up and is made slightly uncomfortable by the sexy factor but Kim tells us when he realizes it's for his eyes only it'll be okay, nevermind the fact that she posed in Playboy and there was a sex tape. So the big thing is that he can't know it's a surprise for him—he has to think it's a magazine photo shoot. So then Kim is somewhere off screen and a package arrives at smooch, the children's clothing store that the girls run. Because you'd obviously send your racy photos to a children's clothing store. So then Kim's mom Kris 'where's my nose' Jenner, wife of Bruce 'I don't know, but I can't find mine either' Jenner opens the package addressed to Kim because she's her manager. Might I say that is a really poor system? Upon seeing the racy calender, Kris thinks that obviously this is some project of Kim's that she forgot about and she doesn't want Kim to think she dropped the ball as a manager so she gets the thing published and puts it in four stores in Calabasas because she is a publishing magnate and that's how it works. Mind you, all this happens in the time it takes freakishly small Kourtenay and or-is- she-freakishly-large Khloe to have a few drinks and realize Bruce is inspirational. They had some drinks at a sports museum in orange county and I have no idea where this place is, but that's a side note.

So then Kim freaks out when she realizes her calendar is at the Stop & Go or wherever it is and also at the newstand and she has to buy up all the copies paying full price each and the guy selling doesn't even seem to realize that the girl buying up all the calendars being followed by cameras is the same girl in the calendar. That is some good acting. Everyone else's though was terrible.

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At the gym; Red Eye party report

Greetings my little tortillas, I'm back on the bike after half an hour on the elliptical machine where I didn't blog for all the reasons I listed yesterday. So it occurs to me that I'm overdue for giving you the exhaustive run down of Wednedsay's Red Eye party which someone here asked for. Of course I will deliver this, however my hands are sweating something fierce and my little blackberry is sliding all around. It's almost as if I'm getting ready to hold my own hand for the very first time.



Anyway, the party was held at a sleek downtown boite. I almost couldn't find it because I was looking for a chic dowtown loft and well, I had my boites and lofts confused as one will do. Anyway, the guest list was quite exclusive as you can imagine. I was numbers one to twenty of the three hundred and I spotted myself in a number of situations running the gamut from surprising to dowright indecent! I was a veritable who's who of the television elite. Also, I was shorter but even more beautiful in person. Blind item alert! Blind item after the jump!



[Whee!] (I just jumped)



Blind item! (I'll wait while you cover your eyes) okay, what known canoodler was seen canoodling with a canoodle while canoodlers canoodled? Allegedly?



Send in your best guesses! In other news I overheard myself talking in hushed tones excitedly about things. The drinks were flowing which made the names bolder. My middle initial may have made out with my last name! Quelle gumption!

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At the gym: heroin

Well here I am on the bike and I'm not even going to tell you what I'm working on because I think its quite clear I'm working on my valvolines, my trundle beds and my knapsacks. See, I was taking a break from the bike because I was getting this weird pain in my lower back that was strangely sharp and wet feeling. Were I back on the space station I would wonder if I'd wet myself, or worse, if I were hanging out with Doug, the drunk astronaut who was always spilling his freeze dried and then reconstituted mai-tais, as well as wetting himself. In fact we used to joke about how he'd 'reconstitute' anything freeze dried you gave him, if you know what I mean. But sadly I'm earthbound for awhile and so I could rule out the idea of the wetness being space mai-tais or urine. But there was pain and half of me half expected (that's about a quarter expectation rate) that I'd reach back there and find blood. Have I been literally stabbed in the back, I wondered? Et tu, LifeFitness 95ri? But there wasn't blood. No backmata or backcarriage or backstruation. Clearly I'm still working on that one.

Anyway, I decided to take a break for a day, which I did yesterday and maybe also the day before? Yes! And then I came here and did the elliptical machine for awhile and the did the stairclimber for less than awhile because that shit is hard and boring, like scrabble. Oh yes, I went there. I don't like scrabble very much. I know this will surprise you because people expect I would be good at it, and oh I am, but I don't enjoy it.

Right so the thing about the other machines is that you really can't blog on them because you might fall off so all you can do is count forwards and backwards in your head in other languages and then you can count out the drum beat of whatever song you're listening to in your head and then you can play drums in your head along with the music. My friend told me that while working out, men fantasize about calamity hitting the gym and then saving all the women at the gym. What about the animals, I ask? Man, what kind of humanitarian wouldn't build an ark? But that's where I came into all this, I was emailing at the gym and he said it sounded dangerous and I said I would die of boredom otherwise, as I did on those machines today. Those other machines.

So now I'm back on this bike. It's like heroin only if I try to inject it and there's an air bubble, I won't die from the air bubble, I'll die from the huge piece of exercise equipment I just shot between my toes. Truthfully I never thought I'd get to this point, stealing giant spoons (really they're more like industrial ladle shaped forklifts. Do those exist? I need a joke intern asap), wrapping bikes in tin foil and smuggling them out of the gym.

Whoa, where am I? I felt like I touched God and also like I was in the womb and also like I was glowing and just warm. You know? And tired, so tired.

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Still at the gym; reality tv

Still at the gym where I'm thinking about reality television, more specifically my unironically beloved keeping Up With The Kardashians and I have to say that it's weird to me how much the sister fued chronicled in the last two episodes really stirred up my own emotions. Did I ever tell you that my own sister and I once went to couples counseling? It didn't work unfortunately, she just couldn't get past the fact that were related, and no matter how many times I tried to explain that our shared background was a plus, not a minus, she just couldn't. Said she thought of me like a brother. But I don't see it as a failure of the psychiatric community. Nay! On the contrary I really feel like we got to know ourselves from the experience and think we're only stronger. But really, I found the kardashians resonating on a level deeper than I would have liked and I may have squeezed out a few sympathy tears along with kim which surprised me. I was thinking about when you get to that point, or someone gets to it with you where the empathy just dries up and they're clearly going through something or they think they are and all you can do is laugh because it doesn't seem authentic to you. Or because you're so hurt you feel like until they understand you, you won't try to understand them. You know? No! Okay nevermind. But I do wish khloe had sounded a little more compassionate on her message to kim before kim pulled the storm out psych out maneuver which I thought was some grade A malarkey. And what was with her makeup being off and on and off and on? First I thought they must not have brought their makeup artist to colorado, but apparently he flew in between the crying jag and kim going in the hot tub.



I take no responsibility for this post. My blackberry seems to have fallen into the hands of a fourteen year old girl. Please forgive her. She's easily exciteable because she just got braces tightened.

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At the gym; next few decades

Well here I am at the gym again. After seeing myself on tv this morning I decided to spend the next two to three decades here. It's a little gift I'm giving to humanity. At this rate, when I get out in two to three decades I'll be able to hit on hot fifty year olds. I like 'em young. Seriously though, wow. Wow did I not love how I looked. I feel like I've been able to get away with not looking like everyone else on tv for quite awhile but this morning it hit me that I really need to go blonde. That's what I've been talking about this whole time. What did you think I was talking about? Don't be silly! And I think my favorite moment in our hard hitting political discussion was when I admitted I like bosom buddies.. Um, what else. Well I'm currently exercising in the residue of this morning's heavy spackling (I tried to wash it off but there's only so much you can do yourself. I plan to walk myself through a car wash later and then give myself a flea dip. I might get neutered too, cuz what the hell. Scratch me?) Um, yeah, that was awkward! Jeez, now I feel weird. Right so what I was trying to say is that I'm soon to be sweating in a light film of makeup which means I'll be breaking out soon. Care to date me? I'm getting neutered at eleven, so let me know soon.

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At the gym; teleporting

I'm at the gym still. I've been on this bike for thirty six minutes and five, oh, wait eighteen seconds. That just goes to show you how slowly I'm typing. I'm pedaling faster than I'm typing but slower than in a cartoon where a character winds up his feet and then shoots forward. I guess that's kinda obvious though. Were I pedaling that fast I'd probably go shooting through this mirror here and end up sitting on some man's shoulder press, or in some other dimension. I'm not sure what kind of mirror I'm dealing with here: reflective or portal to another galaxy. The important thing is that if I went through it I'd leave a super hot and toned outline of my unbelievable body. Some kind of supermodel went crashing through this, they'd say. We're looking for the lithe body of someone involved in a gym accident. All we know is that she had incredible form and her sweat smelled like ambrosia. Also, birds tended to perch on her shoulders while she was biking. Occasionally they'd help with her sewing. She favored gauzy fabrics. Sometimes she'd set her homemade pies to cool on the handlebars.



God, I know it's kind of weird but I miss myself already! I just hope wherever I am they have wifi. And coffee. And showers, because I didn't get a chance to take one before teleporting and my hair seems to have lost some of its usual bounce and sheen. I was planning on pumping up its volume later.



If you're just now starting to read my blog, you're probably concerned for my sanity. Fear not. I have a tinfoil hat which protects me. It's a tinfoil fez actually. Like I'd be caught in some kind of tinfoil sombrero. Puhleeze!

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At the gym; sleepy

Well here I am at the gym. I can't even say what I'm working on because I'm working on not falling asleep. I've never encountered so much difficulty getting out the door. My eyes are rejecting being open and my body is rejwecting being upright. It gives my face the scrunched up pained expression you'd see on a newborn baby with a hangover, except I'm not hungover. I'm so tired that if there was a coffin next to me that was open, empty and had a pillow in it and also didn't smell, I would consider climbing in and taking a nap. That's not a cry for help. Um, I don't really know why I feel this way since I got a decent amount of sleep last night. The only other time I felt like this was when my sister and I went to france before she studied abroad in italy. We have pictures of me sleeping in a variety of locations. Just resting my eyes really. Well actually there are some of me all dressed up to go out, asleep. I remember her constant refrain: 'don't sleep on public tranportation.' Anyway, then I got the flu or laryngitis or something but then I was okay and then she and her friend who we'd scooped up along the way also came down with it and they were more tired than they'd ever been in their lives and boy did I laugh long and hard at that point. Not that they heard me though, they were asleep. I did what was only fair, took photos of them dressed up to go out, napping. Anyway, that's how tired I feel today and its not a mental sluggishness but a physical one. I wonder if I could sleep on this bike? I'm tempted to try. Not sleep, just rest my eyes. Let's see. Here I go. Twenty five seconds passed. Ugh! Today is not not sucking so far.

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At the gym; FAQ

At the gym again, toning my hexagons, perennials and robots and I really don't feel like being here. I don't want to feel the burn, I want to feel a snack and then a nap. So I'm going to do what I do when I am forcing myself to stay here: cry. Okay, now I'll blog and I was thinking this might be a good time to answer all those questions FAQ style, except the formatting will likely be all messed up. Deal with it.

Do you really write those posts from the gym!
Yes.

Why are you always in the newsroom on Red Eye?
I get this one all the time and I've been in the studio, in both chairs at different times, however that was before I suffered a horrible accident and lost my left foot. In what can only be viewed as a horrible miscalculation on the part of the medical community and also the veterinary community, they grafted the foot of a duck onto what was left of my stump. Infection and deformity resulted, but I won the women's freestyle and butterfly strokes in the olympic trials so it's not without benefit.

Do you eat foie gras?
What am I, some kind of cannibal?

So then when people say "Is there a duck in here?" around you, is it actually a reference to your webbed foot!
Precisely!

When's your band playing?
Never. Unless we reunite for a wedding of one of the members or a short west coast tour which I'm trying to beat the drum loudly for but likely won't happen.

Beat the drum loudly? I thought you played guitar.
You're awfully literal, you know that? I do or rather did play guitar, Amelia Bedelia, but since you ask, here is a fun fact: I was the drummer before we had one who was actually good.

Um, what else?
I don't know, you're the one asking the questions.

Right. Is your hair really black?
Yes. I used to lighten it actually.

Are you goth?
I prefer 'realistic.' I'm just kidding. I'm not goth, damnit, although I do remember that when I started working at the OC Weekly years ago someone told me that they thought I was just some 'sullen intern.' I promptly had them fired.

How long have you lived in New York?
Six years.

Where did you go to college?
Yeah, because I really get this one frequently! You are too much!

Thank you.
Pomona College. It's a small liberal arts college in Claremont, California. It was also the facade of Eastland in the credits for Facts of Life, but that's not why I went there, I swear.

Who's your favorite Facts of Life girl?
Can't choose, don't make me.

Have you been listening to "Why Do You Let Me Stay Here" by She & Him on repeat for days?
Pretty much.

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At the gym

Well, here we are again. Me: on the recumbent bike even though my ass is smarting. You, reading my blog. I suppose it should be awkward but it isn't really. I think enough time has passed and frankly I don't think about that thing you did anymore, even though it's still all over the internet. Oh, you KNOW what I'm talking about so let's dispense with the innocent act. Let's also dispense with the charade and the parade because while I love a parade, it's quite winky out and the blooms aren't sticking to the float in the way I'd hoped and it's not reflecting well on the dirigibles industry. Not well at all!



So then, it's come to my attention that I said it's not winky out in the above heartfelt note and obviously I meant windy. Although winky weather is terrible for a parade too. The ticker tape goes everywhere. And I hardly think I'm alone in saying I've never had a good batch of nachos when it's winky out. Oh hey also I'm going to be appearing on chelsea lately may 23. As it gets closer I'll update the tv thing on the right, or you know maybe I'll do it tomorrow, but for now it's just a little extra special treat for the people who actually read this stuff. Maybe I'll tuck a treat into the end of each post! Ooh, fun! How shall we do this? Should you guys make a request and I'll try to work it into the post? Nah, that sounds too hard. Well, I'm open to suggestions.



Oh and P.S. I almost forgot I'm working on my allen wrenches, my flugelhorns and my geodes.

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Duuuuude

I'm at the gym working on my rutabagas, bugles and fire irons and I'm feeling less jaunty than usual because when I got here all the recumbent bikes, which are my bikes of choice because they're the closest to lying prone in a bed other than I guess the bench press and let's get serious, I'm a girl and a weak smushy nearly translucent skinned one at that so I'm likely not going to be pumping iron (considered and promptly vetoed a curling iron joke. Too schticky). Anyway, I had to pedal on the upright stationary bike which apparently uses a whole set of muscles I don't regularly use and so I had to hang on for dear life while time slowed to a torturous trickle and the commercial breaks in jeopardy which I was watching were an eternity. It reminded me of the feeling one gets about three minutes which feel like hours after smoking pot when the novelty has gone away and you are just bored. But, like, so bored you don't know how you will ever get through it. So bored you consider doing something risky like returning some phone calls because the element of danger might make you feel alive and you feel so bored you feel like a little kid who's awake long after everyone has gone to sleep. So bored you think, fuckit, I'll stare at myself in the mirror so you do that for awhile which is alternately disorienting and horrifying and then you look at the clock and realize it's only four minutes later. So bored that you begin to wonder if maybe life is this boring and the pot is just opening you up to the myriad ways reality drags on in a crushing pageant of banality, so bored it's as if you are in the fourth hour of a flight from nyc to ca which is usually when I'm pretty sure I'm going to freak the fuck out if I have to stay on this plane anymore. Not that I've ever smoked pot. So bored that, and I can't really explain this one other than the onset of light level psychosis, but you begin to wonder if you're even stoned. How would you know? Then you laugh for two hours or thirty seconds. But that's how that bike felt, so after twenty seven minutes that felt like years, I switched to the recumbent bike and now I'm recumbing quite beautifully. Wait I had something else to say. Hmm. Oh yeah, has anyone read the book Singularity by william sleater? It's a kids science fiction book that I loved though it chilled me when I was young. When I woke up this morning wanting a bird I was also thinking about kids books, first The Last of the Really Great Whangdoodles and then Singularity. Time is all out of whack in Singularity, which is why I bring it up. And I should say that if I'd ever smoked pot it hasn't been in years, years I say, so if you're my parents, please don't worry. I realized I prefer heroin.

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Behind on sleep

I kind of lost track of time on the bike. If my behind were any more asleep I'd have to rename it Rip Van Winklebutt and read it a newspaper.

Butt Van Winkle? Ass Van Winkle? There is humor in there somewhere, I'm sure of it!
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At the gym, Buddhism

So I'm at the gym working on my gamma deltas and my dingbats and I have a confession to make: I read embarrassing self-help books. It's why I'm so wildly successful at all my endeavors, especially my endeavoring to procrastinate and be reclusive. I bring this up because last time I was at the gym with my embarrassing book, ipod, blackberry, pack of smokes, cooler of bacardi breezers, small bbq and outboard motor in case I came across a boat and body of water, I had to tear out of there to do red eye at the last minute (may I applaud myself for getting home, dressed, reading the stories and getting out the door in about forty two minutes? Okay then) So today I was getting ready to go back to the gym and suddenly a panic shot through me when I thought I may have left When Things Fall Apart: Heart Advice for Difficult Times by Pema Chodron at the gym. Thank god I didn't really. Or thank Buddha, because this book is buddhist although I am not. Now pema looks like a man with a very round skull, but she's really a woman with a bad haircut. I didn't realize this until she talked about how she felt when she discovered her husband was cheating on her with a box of hair extensions named jenny. I know what I'll do, she thought. I'll get a bad haircut! And so she did, and now she's a famous author. What was I saying? I forget, but I'm not going to try to hang on to that thought, or even my mind, I'm just going to touch and release it, as I would a small child's hand in traffic, because that is the buddhist way.



Now you may have found that joke in poor taste but I can't control that and I have the wisdom to know the difference as well as the serenity to take a nap. Naps, actually. Not now though, right now I'm pedaling as fast as I can divided by about thirteen. I'm pedaling at a thirteenth of my ability because it's not a race it's a journey. It's not a sprint it's a marathon? Keep it simple stupid? Day at a time? Uh oh, I'm trapped in a downward slogan spiral! Shall I talk about kids again?

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At the gym

so I'm at the gym, working on my quads, glutes, triads, dingos and bananas. You aren't familiar with dingos and bananas? They're very important groups of muscles located under other muscles and you only begin to define them once you're really far along in the world of body sculpting. For example, I didn't even think I had dingos. I thought I was born without them (which, I know now, sounds totally silly!), but little by little I chipped away at first my triangles and then my tampolines and then there they were, right under the mangos! Also, I'd like to say that I sat down on this bike and went to put on my seatbelt! What's more, there wasn't a seatbelt! I'm doing, um, let's see, seventy rpms and they expect me to just hang on? I smell lawsuit! Also, the girl on the treadmill across the way bears an uncanny resemblance to the wife of the last guy I slept with, which is distracting. (I'm sorry, my humor has taken a turn for the darkly perverse today. I don't know why, just bear with me. I blame the bananas which are likely secreting bananatine which regulates tropical functioning but can cause dark jokes if it isn't balanced out by, um, ovaltine.) If you're about to say you aren't familiar w... In the misdt of this I just got a call to do red eye tonight, so that's where you'll find me. Good thing I worked out my bananas!
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What It's Like When a Big Celebrity Visits The Gym

Some people are probably wondering if the fame is going to my head so I'm writing the following to assure you that I'm exactly the same as before. I still have my assistant put on my pants one leg at a time.

What It's Like When A Big Celebrity Visits The Gym

So I'm at the gym right now, working on my already amazing physique (just calling it as I see it because it's humbling to be honest and it keeps me grounded to remember where I came from: an above average background in every sense, again just having the courage to be honest). People are being really cool and not mobbing me. In fact they respect me so much, which I really appreciate, that they aren't even acting like they recognize me at all from my many accomplishments in a number of areas which I would detail for you here but I don't want you to think I'm bragging.

I mean, here is the thing, when you are possessing as many natural talents as I am you really learn quickly that you have to be careful to come across as humble, like by reminding people you're humble, because otherwise you run the risk of people thinking you believe your own hype (even if its true as it is in my case), which brings me back to my point about how I really have the best fans because they're just letting me work on my award-winning body in peace. I don't even hear any whispering.

Actually, when I took a cell phone call on the treadmill earlier people were whispering because they probably recognized my voice from my extensive voiceover work in feature films and commercials. Well actually I guess I should say that I didn't take a call, I placed one, to my manager, calling her back. Or rather following up on a call I'd placed earlier. To someone I want to be my manager. About getting some voiceover work. Have you heard my voice? If you were anywhere in the vicinity of the gym when I fell off the treadmill because I got distracted when I was dialing, you probably did. And thank you for looking the other way. Yes I could have used a hand getting back up, and a band-aid (the bleeding wasn't profuse, a few stitches and I was as good as new) but I can see where you would be afraid to approach a big celebrity who has injured herself because you don't want to embarrass her. But honey it takes worse things than that to embarrass me.

I remember when I had a role as 'atmosphere' (but atmosphere that was super important to moving the plot line forward. In fact the director told me that I was like the best he'd ever seen at looking like I was actually in a restaurant drinking a cappuccino) in a big Hollywood blockbuster and my pants fell off, okay yes I actually took them off, it's a long story but I've been to rehab since which was also humbling and I'm hoping to publish my courageous tale of courage and bravery in the face of being humbled and then maybe a reality show, who knows!!!! :)

So where was I? Oh yeah, I was saying that when famous people like me and brit and linds and my good friend scarlett who sent me an email earlier today (asking me to stop emailing her, I assume because she wants me to just call) go out in public to premieres or awards shows or the gym, it can be really tough because we get mobbed so that's why I feel fortunate that people are just treating me like a 'regular person' (sounds so gay to say that!!!! Right?' LOL ;) wait not gay bad! :) don't you put words in my mouth! okay and anyway—

Okay I seem to have fallen again. Don't worry, I'm okay. Thank you for not drawing attention. It's humbling. It kinds of hurts though. Does anyone know if legs are supposed to bend this way? Anyone? Hello? A celebrity needs help here!

(Note to my parents who sometimes worry: I am actually at the gym. I didn't really fall. The above is satire. This disclaimer is humbling.)
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The gym

I'm going to go the gym. I'm wearing my gym clothes and everything. I even have a rubber band around my right wrist to keep my hand from falling off. Have you ever tried to exercise without a hand? Actually for certain things like jogging or riding a bike (if you have a good balance) it's not so bad, but for weight lifting or, say, competitive hand shaking, it's a detriment. But actually it's there so I can put my hair in a pony tail at said gym, which I haven't been to in so long that last time I went (not to exercise, but to check on my locker) I found a layer of dust on my lock. I would have opened it but I couldn't remember the combination. I also can't remember what's inside there. Probably some hair junk, more rubber bands, a half eaten sandwich and some arts and crafts supplies. My friend and I long to spend a day in the locker room creating dioramas inside our lockers, just to see what people would say to us if we were really in there for a whole day cutting little things out of construction paper. Also, I removed the irritating rubber band and if you'll notice I'm sitting here writing BS so as not to be at the gym. Okay, here I go.