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1:18 pm | 27 October 2003 | peas porridge in the pot, nine days old

All weekend long, I think of things I want to share with you, my homies, and then come monday my pickled little brain is wincing in a corner of my cavernous skull, devoid of idears. (I think that is why list entries seem to happen mostly on mondays). With that in mind, I am about to drop

Things I Should Neither Like Nor Admit To Liking, But Do, including Things That Are Weird to Like, But I Like 'Em Anyway, Dammit

1. J. Lo. I don't know what to plead here, folks. Perhaps it is the power of that legendary booty. Perhaps it's the uncomplicated, consistently mediocre output (her acting is okay. Her music is also okay. Her perfume? Eh, s'allright. Her fashion? Sort of unchallengingly "hip." You are getting my drift). Mostly I think it is because she seems so damn nice. Probably this is more nave idiocy on my part, but if I were forced to have lunch with her, I don't think I'd suffer the way I might through a Paris Hilton encounter*. She would probably be totally adorable shopping, too. Like you could ask her whether or not a pair of pants made you look like a giraffe going in for a drink** and she wouldn't lie.

2. Gwen Stefani. See above. She also appears to be as dumb as a bag of hair, but we could sit around and, like, sew zippers on pants together, or something.

3. Cutting things out of paper. I can't get enough of it. I have eight pairs of scissors and a surgeon-caliber array of blades. For a long time it was cutting pictures of birds out of paper, and now it seems to be cutting holes in paper the shapes of birds and aeroplanes. Yes, I know this is weird.

4. Arranging things around the house for maximum aesthetic pleasantness. This is weird because they are things that do not need arranging. One houseguest, puzzled, turned from the fridge and asked "Are these lemons...edible, or are they for display only?" because they were immaculately presented in a white enamel colander. I am compulsive. The shower is another one; I only use white soaps and shampoos, and they are transferred to unmarked bottles and flagons since I hate being confronted with the (usually poorly-written) marketing spiel*** on the back of every bottle, every morning. Why? WHY??

5. Singing gospel versions of unlikely songs, such as the Menard's jingle, "On the Road Again," and "Mama's Little Baby Likes Shortening Bread" around the house, to self, dramatically, and frequently in a variety of keys to see which is most effective. My neighbours? Must hate me.

6. Enrique Iglesias. CRAM IT.

7. Martha Stewart, Our Lady of Excessive Domestic Witchery. We all get a little crazy sometimes.

8. NPR quiz shows, which for some reason seem more provocative of laughing-out-loud than any other passive entertainment form. And

9. Writing HTML on a semi- to fairly-competent basis. As I have said so many, many other times before: Dork!


*Statistically impossible as Paris appears not to consume, as Ab Fab's Patsy once called them, "those, sort of, food-things, darling."

**Frequently-encountered problem in Claudeland.

***It is another fact that I compulsively read everything and retain it, thereby wasting precious brain cells on things like "ROLLING ROCK: From the glass-lined tanks of Old Latrobe. We tender this premium beer for your enjoyment as a tribute to your good taste. It comes from the mountain springs to you. '33.'" How useful, remembering such things! Jesus!


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