Full Life, Non?
not proofread. so sue me.
My life is insanely busy and I'm always having to use time wisely, more so than the average person. You see, I have no job. So my schedule is a big donut hole every day. There are no weekends, just days. Day after day after day. My calendar pages are crisp, clean and blank as hell.
I've begun to leave myself "To Do" lists, for motivation, which are theoretical at best. Who's going to check on the completion of my assorted tasks? I'm the boss of me. Last night I wrote myself a To Do, "No Country For Old Men, 11:30am, Union Sq." My big plan for the day was to be at the movie theater by 11:30am. I conratulated myself after writing the goal b/c I honestly figured it was a reachable one. How hard could it be? Quick shower, grab a bagel or something, hop on the F and bingo! Cohen brothers genius time.
Sigh. Missed that. At about 1pm I rose from slumber b/c I heard the doorbell ring. I was expecting new boots. Dreamt about them, too. UPS made my dreams come true.
At 4pm I caught a bit of Chris Angel on OPRAH. His show is called Mindfreak and cudos to Chris for self awareness. He is a fucking freak. He walks out to the adoration and applause of Oprah's audience, a mix of 40 something female ethnicities going apeshit. Oprah herself is flipping for this dude, giving him all kinds of props. Thanks, Oprah, I did need to know that at age 11, creepy young Chris made shit levitate. And Chris is sucking it all up like he's a semi-deity. He reminds me of someone. Does he have an accent? No. His teeth are feminine. Fake tan. Dude, he's Celine Dion. His false humility aura is just like hers!
"You are so kind, so kind. Thank you. Yes, I am so blessed. I have a talent and God gave it to me. He did. And I am here to give it back...to you. I share my gift b/c it can change people's lives and that's what really matters. When some schmuck from Timbuckfuck pays $1,500 to sit in the 12th row of my Celine Vegas show and he stands, weeping when I sing Love Can Move Mountains--they can, Oprah. Non? Love moves mountains. It does. Anything is possible. I am just girl from Montreal from musical family of 43 children. Ask my husband Renee--and I can feel his energy coming to me, to my face, my soul, you know? He's feeling I am an angel. Well maybe, Oprah, maybe he is right. And if I am God's angel I should sing to the world, non?"
It's too easy to rag on Celine. And over done. Damn you, Kathy Griffin! Back to Chris. He's all pimped out in ice, yo. The man dripped himself in diamonds. Ugly ones. Earrings, rings, necklace. He bares a passing resemblance to Liberace (who, incidientally, would blow him, deep throat blow, in a Garland heartbeat) or Chris Brown, it's a toss-up. And the man's hair is a poorly dyed bird's nest, layered distastefully by a buzzsaw. One thing is clear: he's and his AquaNet caused An Inconvenient Truth. Chris would blend very well if this Oprah show wasn't about him but rather 'Hair Horrors.' A whole panel of bitches done wrong by their sad selection of salon lined up on Oprah's stage with Chris smack in the middle. He would fit right in. He's got a faux leather jacket on too. If it's not faux, it's so brand new that it looks fake. There's an anarchy logo on the upper arm. Wow, Chris, you're a real boat rocker. Someone should have pulled Chris aside and told him that Skid Row was cool in 1990, that he shouldn't wear those shoe boots, oh yes, SHOE BOOTS he bought from Aldo b/c he saw Andre wear them on Real World season 1, New York. Why must all magicians look like idiots? I'd like to see some dude in khakis and a blazer slide himself out of a straight jacket. A Republican escape artist. Too rich!
I had to change the channel because their egos started eating themselves.
After Oprah I surfed youtube for about 5 hours, no joke. I won't tell you exactly what I was watching but common search words were South of Nowhere, teen lesbians and Christmas blind girl. Busy me.
Hey, I got a tattoo on Friday.
Here's my To Do list for tomorrow:
Try NO COUNTRY FOR OLD MEN @ 11:30 again, wear new boots
posted by Shannon E. Ennis at
Monday, December 10, 2007
My life is insanely busy and I'm always having to use time wisely, more so than the average person. You see, I have no job. So my schedule is a big donut hole every day. There are no weekends, just days. Day after day after day. My calendar pages are crisp, clean and blank as hell.
I've begun to leave myself "To Do" lists, for motivation, which are theoretical at best. Who's going to check on the completion of my assorted tasks? I'm the boss of me. Last night I wrote myself a To Do, "No Country For Old Men, 11:30am, Union Sq." My big plan for the day was to be at the movie theater by 11:30am. I conratulated myself after writing the goal b/c I honestly figured it was a reachable one. How hard could it be? Quick shower, grab a bagel or something, hop on the F and bingo! Cohen brothers genius time.
Sigh. Missed that. At about 1pm I rose from slumber b/c I heard the doorbell ring. I was expecting new boots. Dreamt about them, too. UPS made my dreams come true.
At 4pm I caught a bit of Chris Angel on OPRAH. His show is called Mindfreak and cudos to Chris for self awareness. He is a fucking freak. He walks out to the adoration and applause of Oprah's audience, a mix of 40 something female ethnicities going apeshit. Oprah herself is flipping for this dude, giving him all kinds of props. Thanks, Oprah, I did need to know that at age 11, creepy young Chris made shit levitate. And Chris is sucking it all up like he's a semi-deity. He reminds me of someone. Does he have an accent? No. His teeth are feminine. Fake tan. Dude, he's Celine Dion. His false humility aura is just like hers!
"You are so kind, so kind. Thank you. Yes, I am so blessed. I have a talent and God gave it to me. He did. And I am here to give it back...to you. I share my gift b/c it can change people's lives and that's what really matters. When some schmuck from Timbuckfuck pays $1,500 to sit in the 12th row of my Celine Vegas show and he stands, weeping when I sing Love Can Move Mountains--they can, Oprah. Non? Love moves mountains. It does. Anything is possible. I am just girl from Montreal from musical family of 43 children. Ask my husband Renee--and I can feel his energy coming to me, to my face, my soul, you know? He's feeling I am an angel. Well maybe, Oprah, maybe he is right. And if I am God's angel I should sing to the world, non?"
It's too easy to rag on Celine. And over done. Damn you, Kathy Griffin! Back to Chris. He's all pimped out in ice, yo. The man dripped himself in diamonds. Ugly ones. Earrings, rings, necklace. He bares a passing resemblance to Liberace (who, incidientally, would blow him, deep throat blow, in a Garland heartbeat) or Chris Brown, it's a toss-up. And the man's hair is a poorly dyed bird's nest, layered distastefully by a buzzsaw. One thing is clear: he's and his AquaNet caused An Inconvenient Truth. Chris would blend very well if this Oprah show wasn't about him but rather 'Hair Horrors.' A whole panel of bitches done wrong by their sad selection of salon lined up on Oprah's stage with Chris smack in the middle. He would fit right in. He's got a faux leather jacket on too. If it's not faux, it's so brand new that it looks fake. There's an anarchy logo on the upper arm. Wow, Chris, you're a real boat rocker. Someone should have pulled Chris aside and told him that Skid Row was cool in 1990, that he shouldn't wear those shoe boots, oh yes, SHOE BOOTS he bought from Aldo b/c he saw Andre wear them on Real World season 1, New York. Why must all magicians look like idiots? I'd like to see some dude in khakis and a blazer slide himself out of a straight jacket. A Republican escape artist. Too rich!
I had to change the channel because their egos started eating themselves.
After Oprah I surfed youtube for about 5 hours, no joke. I won't tell you exactly what I was watching but common search words were South of Nowhere, teen lesbians and Christmas blind girl. Busy me.
Hey, I got a tattoo on Friday.
Here's my To Do list for tomorrow:
Try NO COUNTRY FOR OLD MEN @ 11:30 again, wear new boots
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