Personal Worst
Personal Best



September 26 , 1999

Here I am, looking my sexy, trendy best for all of you. This whole webcam thing makes me thing I should put on makeup and make a hairdo to update my journal. Not. Bloody. Likely.

Tonight's entry is going to be one of those, "what I did today" kind of entries. The type of entries I normally hate.

I don't care that you got up, took a shower, brushed your teeth, had no clean clothes, drove the carpool, missed the carpool, have a headache, backache, and toothache, hate your boss, went to the market, and cooked dinner for your thankless husband, children, lover, wife, mother, in-laws, outlaws, or neighbors.

My, doesn't that sound awfully bitchy.

But, there you have it. Thanks what you're getting today. So, let's consider this, to-date, one of my personal worst's.

We had a busy weekend.

We managed to get a sitter last night and had date night. Actually, it was our cleaning lady who sometimes sits with Zoe. Clean house and child care all in one. What more could a girl ask for?

Movie and dinner. Movie: don't recommend. Double Jeopardy. Starring that sterling actress Ashley Judd. Killer body, pretty most of the time, not overly talented. And also Tommy Lee Jones. My word, did he look terrible. Almost like his face was made out of Silly Putty. (The old, dull pink kind, not the new and improved with sparkles variety.)

I'll admit, the movie was my pick. I saw a trailer for it and I thought it looked good. Chuck thought it looked like one of those Lifetime Made for TV Movies. With the exception of a brief glimpse of nipple, it could very well have been one.

The plot was full of exposition. Surely the sign of a novice screenwriter. Characters would show up, dialogue would consist of one or two lines to explain the plot and disappear.

While I'm pretty generous, generally speaking, about movies, this is a definite wait till it comes on cable, and if there's nothing better on, watch it.

Chuck was absolutely brutal. On the way to dinner the man would not, could not shut up about how bad it was. At one point he asked if he should stop talking about it. Then went on to ask if he could stop talking about it. It was amusing to me so I let him blow off steam.

Chuck loves to hate movies. He loves to talk about all the things that are wrong with a movie. He loves to talk about how bad the acting was. How bad the script was. How bad the direction was. How bad the writing was. All this from a man who never misses the opportunity to go to the movies. Go figure.

Then we went to dinner. Sushi. I have only been eating sushi for about three months now. I've graduated from all things totally cooked, to the raw stuff. I've even found myself being a little adventurous. I'll admit it, the saki helps enormously.

When we were leaving the restaurant last night we ran into one of Zoe's schoolmates with is mom and her boyfriend.

Today was filled with the usual Sunday busies.

Zoe and I started our day at the Studio City Farmers Market. We went on the train ride, pony ride, pet all the animals in the petting zoo, and Zoe went on the bouncy thing. The only way I could get her out of the damned thing was to tell her her time was up and she needed to get out before they yelled at her. It's mean, I know. I was tired and ready to go home. It was the only way to get her out of that damned thing without a major meltdown.

Speaking of meltdowns, those seems to be coming more and more frequently these days from my once, perfectly, perfect, angelic daughter. I'm thinking of changing her name to Suzi Mood-Swings. Man, that girl has a temper. We can thank Chuck's gene's for this.

After a non-nap this afternoon we went in search of a big screen TV. This is Chuck's latest obsession. He all but drooled all over the salesman at Circuit City. We did not get one.

We did go to the $300 Store today. We needed toilet paper and paper towels. So, $400 (a personal best) and two cart-fulls later we were done.

Interestingly, the same little boy and his mom who were at sushi last night were also at Costco.

I think they're stalking us.

Until next time. . .


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