Another weird night. When am I going to have a normal night's sleep, or are those only for people under the age of 37? I have gone directly into the odd-sleep zone of the elderly, like my Mom. But don't let on that I called her elderly, because she'd have me for breakfast.

Anyway, I joined Flylady yesterday, because all of my friends who are doing it say that it's awfully cutesy and corny, but their houses are apparently spingle-spangle clean and stay that way, and I can put up with a little corn if the results are so good. Anyway, I got an email from them last night saying "It's 11.45p EST, you should go to bed!" and because I am so suggestible that's what I did.

Me in bed before midnight, who ever heard of such a thing? Anyway, I went to sleep ,then I woke up thinking that the kids were much more quiet this morning, that they hadn't stomped around a bit, then I glanced at the clock and it was 2.45a. Which explains the lack of stomping. Though later, during prime stomping time they still didn't wake me, so clearly Fran taught them to levitate.

Anyway, I got up and went to the bathroom, then couldn't get back to sleep for awhile (man, I used to be able to go to the bathroom without quite waking up, but them days are long gone) so when the alarm rang at 8a, I re-set it for 9a. Then hit snooze until 10a. That is a very bad habit to get into, getting up when I actually have to leave the house.

I need to just get up when the alarm rings, revolutionary idea though that may be. I'm sure that Flylady would agree.

Watching everyone absolutely stroke out laughing at the almost completely unfunny Robin Williams on Inside the Actors Studio. And it's not even Lipton, who is constantly chuckling warmly, it's those easily amused idiots in the audience. There is one woman who seems to have an even more annoying laugh than I do, which is going some.

Now I know why the thing is two hours long, it certainly isn't that he has two hours worth of insights about acting to convey. Honestly, I'm perfectly interested in hearing him talk like a person, but that Tourettic babble I can do without.

God, why don't I turn it off! Because every twenty minutes or so, he said something interesting. But then it's back to the slobbery dick-sucking. And who can blame him for carrying on when that is his reward? But honestly, people, a little perspective, this is the man who did the execrable Toys and Mrs. Doubtfire, after all.

It's not that he's not a funny man, because he is, I think that his concert at the Met is one of the best standup films ever, but since everyone laughs at every goddamn thing to come out of his mouth, it doesn't matter whether he actually says anything funny or not. Were I followed around by people weeping with laughter at my slightest utterance, I'd forget what was funny, too.

Man, were I in that audience, I would have chewed off my own foot to escape. The horror. The horror.

It snowed all day, but nothing stuck, which is pretty pointless. Of course, I don't like snow, but that's as may be. Actually, it stuck at bit round my house, especially on the grass, everything looked like it had been dusted in powdered sugar, like I live in a donut.

I wore the Silliest Hat in the World for the first time, which was amusing to all and sundry. I haven't got a picture of myself in the Hat, but I do have a picture of Quinn in it, from when Amy and Andy were holding it hostage.

I actually looked marginally sillier, though I drooled less. And my outfit wasn't a pink potato sack.

Actually, the title of Silliest Hat in the World was only held by me for about half of the day, because then I saw the Director of Operations, a perfectly staid grey haired man around 50, in an astounding headgear. It was striped, soberly striped, conservatively striped, which I hardly see the point of, since it not only had ear flaps but a foot long point going straight up into the air! I told him that he looked like one of the Pinheads in The Elephant Man.

Hat or no hat, though, it's the time of the year where I either need to figure out where I put my damned gloves last year or break down and buy new ones. I know where my scarf is, because I wore it in my last show, but the whereabouts of any of my 400 pairs of gloves are a mystery. Off traveling with Jenfu's I can only imagine.

When I got to work, neither The Raccoon or the Penultimate New Girl were in their cubes, but there were ladders leading up to holes in the ceiling. I ran to the Ultimate New Girl's desk and cried out that there had been a prison break!

This is why they keep me around The Company That Must Not Be Named, because of the never ending hilarity.

Today's horoscope:
You are quieter than usual, less inclined to reveal your thoughts and feelings. Solitary thinking brings some insights.

One year ago today:
Well, the answers to the question, why should my purple hair remind people of all of the war orphans have been pouring in, and there were actually several people who got it right...

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Last Updated Tues 8 January 20:45:09 2002