Well, dear readers, I need some new pants. I ask you, where else on all the Internet can you read such a sentence? Nowhere, that’s where. In any case, now that I have lost weight (and am continuing to lose weight), I need some new pants. I get very confused about pants – if you’re buying one pair of pants, for example, you’re really buying a pant, not pants. My late cousin Donnie told me that, and he knew for he sold a pant or two in his time. So, in reality, a pair of pants would be two pants. I think I’ve got that right. Do we have any pant experts around these here parts? Why am I talking about pants? What have pants got to do with the price of tomatoes or potatoes or kumquats, that’s what I’d like to know? I just find this whole pant/pants thing fascinating, rather like a gazelle playing Scrabble and eating a taco. I mean, it sounds weird to say, “That’s a lovely pant your wearing,” doesn’t it? Or, “That pant looks very nice.” In any case, I would like to buy at least one pair of pant. Speaking of pant, yesterday I panted quite a lot. That is because first I had to lug three huge boxes of CDs to Ye Olde Post Office, where I sent them on their merry way. I then came home and had to jog, which caused me to pant even more. I then went to Mr. Grant Geissman’s home environment to lend a helpful eye on Cissy Wechter’s book layout. That took six hours and I was quite ready to leave after we were done, because Mr. Geissman’s air conditioning unit was on the fritz. I then came home and had to answer a LOT of e-mails and ponder the pant vs. pants conundrum. Cissy then came over and went to Staples where my beloved Jenn is always so helpful, and we made some spiral-bound copies. And then I sat on my couch like so much fish.
Last night, I watched a motion picture on DVD entitled The Recruit, a film from 2003 that I’d never heard of. I do enjoy watching Mr. Al Pacino, although he seems to make only crap these days, this film being a prime example of said crap. I just don’t care for Mr. Pacino’s co-star in this film – Colin Farrell. I just find him one of the most unpleasant and boring actors ever. The plot is ridiculous – standard issue Robert McKee and Syd Field junk. Once you’ve heard the line, “Nothing is what it seems,” the movie is over. And since you hear it in the first ten minutes (and it’s on all the advertising), well, all the touted “twists” become obvious and stupid. Almost everything about the film is wretched, but it all starts with the inept writing. Mr. Pacino, however, is always fun to watch and he, at least, made the torture somewhat endurable.
What am I, Ebert and Roeper all of a sudden? Don’t I have to take off my pant and get ready for bed? Why don’t we all click on the Unseemly Button so that I can do so.
Today, I must mee with Miss Joan Ryan – I must MEE with Miss Joan Ryan? Really. Well, you know, I was going to meet with Joan Ryan but meeing with her sounds much more interesting, so today I will mee with Miss Joan Ryan, after which I must come home and have a phone meeting with my publisher to make certain everything is proceeding apace. After that, Miss Jessica Kiernan is coming over to import a whole slew of e-mail addresses into my Constant Contact Kritzerland account.
The dry, hot weather is playing havoc with my allergies and my voice, so I am doing very little talking for the next few days. Instead, I shall work silently, writing away. I shall nod my head yay or shake my head nay, but I shan’t say yay or nay, not even if you pay – well, I may say yay or nay if you pay.
Well, dear readers, I must take the day, I must do the things I do, I must, for example, jog, write, meet, eat, import addresses, and do some errands that need doing. Today’s topic of discussion: Where is the most exotic place you’ve ever been? What did you do whilst there, and what did you eat? And, of course, chime in the the pant/pants discussion, as well. Let’s have loads of lovely postings, shall we, whilst I take off my pant and put on my lounging pyjamas.