The Late Show

I think I've mentioned here before that I tend not to go to the movies. This is primarily because, I think, nobody ever ASKS me to go to the movies, which in turn is because there aren't a lot of current movies that interest me. Ergo, people have gotten out of the habit of bothering to ask...I guess. Except of course for Harry Potter, and Sarah and I and a bunch of people always go to the midnight showing.

This is the reason why I never caught up with Tropic Thunder until tonight...and I didn't know what I'd been missing. Good Lord, that was fun. I particularly loved the opening, with the fake coming attractions, even if it did take me a minute or so to catch up with what was going on. But what a wonderfully silly piece of work. Definitely my kind of movie. And the absolute best was Tom Cruise, of all people...I didn't even realize it was him (he?) until the credits. I don't much care for him, but what a wonderful bit. Now I have to catch up with Don't Mess With The Zohan, which has always sounded like the kind of nuttiness I like, and Zoolander, for the same reason. Ah, the pleasures of cable.

But really, I'm quite sure I'll watch a lot more television when I (eventually) move and everything is on one floor. This really does sound like the worst kind of laziness, but honestly, think about it. Due to the layout of my house, the TV is in the den. The powder room is in the kitchen. This means that to watch TV, I go down the few stairs from the kitchen, then down the few stairs to the den. And I'm carrying my beer/diet soda/water (whatever I've chosen to drink that night) and my cigarettes, and my phone. If I have to go to the john during the show, it's back up those two little flights of stairs and back down again...and if (as tonight) I'm watching something I've never seen before, how the hell do I know what I might miss? It's definitely a nuisance.

I feel quite accomplished today. I finally achieved some money...Social Security and unemployment (such as it is). It's mostly gone now, but I got a lot done. I paid Con Ed, cable, and my telephone; I picked up prescriptions and stocked up on toilet paper and paper towels for at least the next month, got kitty litter, and then I cleaned the whole downstairs bathroom. I even stopped at Gourmet Garage and bought myself a decent dinner; lovely sirloin steak and potatoes (well, potato...how many can one girl eat?).

Tomorrow, rain or no, I'm off to 14th Street to blitz my way through the Associated supermarket and cram my house with food for a month. If you have never lived with an apartment sized icebox (damn...I mean refrigerator), you cannot possibly understand, you privileged character, what it means to have my glorious side by side machine with all that freezer space, as opposed to a "freezer compartment" that held one ice cube tray and one box of frozen peas...tops. I'm actually going to bake a small ham for myself, because I love ham with an unholy passion, and there are SO many ways to use up leftovers. Also, there are few nicer hot weather meals than cold sliced ham with chutney, some buttery corn on the cob, and a lovely sliced ripe tomato with vinaigrette and a little shredded basil on top...and there you have it, children...Mother's recipe of the day. Given cooking the corn in the microwave (which takes abut two minutes), there's also not an easier meal in the world.

I have never understood why people don't use their microwaves more. They are God's gift to almost any vegetable. Artichokes in ten minutes. Asparagus at exactly the perfect point. Corn on the cob in two minutes, again at the perfect point. Softening butter to make it easier to cream with sugar for cookies. Or to mix with confectioner's sugar and brandy for hard sauce. Melting butter with minced garlic for REALLY great garlic bread. As I have said before on this subject, get a copy of Barbara Kafka's Microwave Gourmet and go to town.

Oh, and does anyone want a leaky cat? I swear to God I'm going to KILL this one. After I had cleaned the entire downstairs bathroom, washed the floor, toilet, sink, changed the cat litter, et cetera, et cetera, and so forth (just for you, Anonymous), the goddamn animal calmly walked over and shat on the plastic bag containing the old cat litter, and the floor around it. Precisely two feet away from his fresh, pristine litter box. I wish I could charitably say, well, he's old, but really...this is beginning to seem punitive. Particularly after he actually walked over the other morning and SHAT ON MY HAND. I am not kidding. I was reading the paper and had just removed him from the page I was reading, and he jumped back on the table and SHAT ON MY HAND. Now come on...this isn't feline Alzheimer's...this is being a total son of a bitch. If only I wasn't such a nice person...I mean, I have dreams of simply taking him to the vet and saying, put him down, but I can't possibly justify that. How on earth could I, getting older as I am, take someone who is clearly enjoying life to the hilt, eating well, leaping about like a two year old, and just in general having a wonderful time (he smiles when he shits on things), say, well, your happy old age is annoying me? I would have to think that karma would get me in the end, and when I got to be ninety (you know, next week or so), Sarah would decide she was pretty damn tired of paying someone to change my Depends and...well, it's just not on. Ah, well. 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Well, well. An actual illustration. The above is what happens when your 900 year old pussycat, full of joie de vivre, leaps directly onto your computer when you're trying to write something.

AARGGHH!

Love, Wendy