So yesterday I woke prettily at 10.30a, decided that that wasn't anything like enough, and fell back in a pile of snores until 1p. Now that's the time to get up on a weekend. I felt like the God of Sleep in Metamorphoses, with the hat covered with bouncy Z's.

After tottering from my bed, I went to the store, for the first time taking Bonnie's Radio Flyer that she got for her birthday.

I would like to make this perfectly clear. I will never, and I mean never shop without it again! I don't have to choose between the cat food and the cat litter! I can get everything that my acquisitive little heart desires and not break my arms carrying it all home!

And I was in such agonizing pain from carrying everything around for hours and hours the day before, that I could barely carry a toothpick from the store, let along 400 lbs of cat litter and so on. But pulling it all in a little red wagon, easy peasy lemon squeezy!

So I came home and changed the cat litter (to the supreme gratification of the cats, who immediately dirtied it up again), then sat down to write some entries and watch some TiVo. Like the show that I TiVoed the night before, Ultimate Manilow! Which was great!

I'm sick of apologizing for loving Barry Manilow, so I will no longer do so, the show was swell and that's all there is to it! Barry stuffed as many of his old hits into the show as humanly possible, and did a couple of songs off the new album as well, which sound pretty great.

"Well, good evening, it is I, the Ultimate Manilow! Back with my own TV special after all these years, which just goes to show that if you live long enough, anything is possible."

"I had long blonde hair down to my shoulders, you might remember me, I had pukka shells, pukka beads, I had bell-bottoms, I had platform shoes, I looked alot like Britney Spears. I have no idea how that song became a hit with me looking like this."

I realized for the first time what the line in "Even Now" that goes, "Even now, when I come shining through, I swear I think of you," means! It means that when Barry is having sex and he comes he thinks of someone other than the person that he is coming inside of!

Okay, probably everyone else on earth figured that out a long time ago, but it was certainly a shock to me to think that Barry Manilow wrote a song about shooting his wad. And it's not as though I haven't listened to that song plenty--about 200,000 in 1978 alone, just ask my first freshman year roommate, Karen, who finally asked me through gritted teeth if it was really necessary to listen to that album one more time.

Then I watched the second disc of The Parent Trap, which was quite good and all-inclusive.

My personal favourite thing, though, was the conversation between David Swift and Ward Kimball, reminiscing about being animators for Disney back in the day. Marvelous stuff, and since Swift died in December, an irreplaceable document. These stories are lost forever unless someone takes the time to record them in some way.

The funniest story was that when they did The Reluctant Dragon, it was almost finished when it was returned by the Hayes Office, because they refused to let them show the navel on the dragon. Later, Swift was saying how when he was a bomber pilot in WWII, he painted a huge, eight foot high picture of The Reluctant Dragon on the side of his plane, and Kimball interjects, "With a great big belly-button!"

At one point, Swift said about Kimball, "He did the four crows in Dumbo! They were just black birds until Ward got ahold of them..." And then I said, "And then they became hideous racial stereotypes!"

God, my God, I have so many entries to write! I am so behind! I so totally planned on getting caught up this weekend, but that totally isn't happening. Totally, that is.

Frankly, this is all Melissa's fault. When we went to her house three weeks ago or whatever, I got two days behind, and then everything all went to hell. Currently, I am fourteen days behind, except that I really am not, because about a week ago I started writing my entry of the day on the day I was supposed to, just not posting them, which means that I am actually only six days behind, because once I write those six entries then it's Katie bar the door and you will be flooded, flooded I say with more quality reading material than you can shake a stick at.

It's jus writing those six entries that are the problem. I am doing anything to keep from writing them, knitting, washing dishes, painting my nails, I even tried to take a shower, but there was no hot water and thus I was sent back to my desk. And don't think that I don't know that writing this right now, this entry that I cannot post, rather than the entry for 5/7 that I am supposed to be writing isn't procrastination as well. It's a rather useful form of it, writing something that I need to write to avoid writing something else that I need to write, but still.

5/7 is calling me (hey! you!), not to mention 5/8 through 5/12, and heed their calls I must. You know, either that or watch Evil Dead on DVD, I really need to do that, too!

Lenten entries missed:

Never shuffled forlornly around the house with her blankie, got some very interesting insights into the job market, was being hair-stalked by Ozzy Osbourne, cared desperately about my soul, cleaned the craproom, ran around her yard all nakedly, and had glow-in-the-dark legs.

Today's horoscope:
Today, you prefer life be secure and predictable. The familiar appeals. Stick to what's safe.

One year ago today:
Of course, neither did I weep with pride and declare that I never had to take another picture again, because I could never outdo the glory, the wonder, the perfection that is my picture of the trombone slides.

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Last Updated Sun 19 May 21:31:09 2002