So Christian Dior Me

I went to the gym this afternoon. There were ten TV screens in front of me while I did the elliptical machine.


Three screens were Dr. Phil.


Four were Glenn Beck.


One was that douche bag Rick Sanchez on stupid CNN.


The final two were Jerry Springer.


Later, I was sitting in my office when Hyka came in and tried to jump up on the top of the flat screen TV next to my desk. She went flying forward and the TV went flying backwards -- to its doom. Yes, my kitten destroyed a flat screen HDTV.




After I made sure she was OK, I checked and confirmed the TV was wrecked. Then I picked her up and kissed her and thanked her for keeping me safe from American culture.


Tonight, after a bottle of nice Italian and some pretty good lamb lollypops, TiVo told me it had recorded Evita.


Golly. Open other bottle?

Oh please.

Mark asked me if I was just going to cry through the whole thing again.


“What do you mean?” I asked.


“We watch this every three months and you always cry though the whole movie.” Mark explained.


“I have no idea what you are saying to me at this time, but this is the most underrated performance in the history of cinema. I can’t believe that director had such little respect for her when she was pregnant. The way she was photographed…hostile…just hostile. And who knew Antonio could sing so well?” I said, wiping the tears from my eyes. "Can I have some more wine now?


TV doesn’t really have to be that bad. If you buy an all regions DVD player you can watch Green Wing, and Beautiful People, and Forever Summer. And you should.


Off to watch Antony Bourdain in Vietnam now.






PS – Singapore looks likely for June. Fuck yeah!




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