It's phucking rainy. It's phucking cold. The phucking sky is phucking gray. It's been raining all phucking day, and for some unknown phucking reason I've got a headache the size of a phucking Buick. Some Sumatra coffee and two Naproxen tablets might do the trick. And maybe a little Salma Hayek to add some color to this dismal phucking day.
(Glorious pictures from Exclamation Mark, which is described as
"a cross between Leave It to Beaver and Satan's School for Girls.")
Like the song says, "I don't need no doctor."
America is gearing up for another "Black Friday" of shopping for junk that nobody needs. My daily newspapers are all starting to look like Sunday papers with the extra ads and circulars and sales spectaculars and inserts. And the mail is filled with offers from credit card companies, trying to drive us all even further into debt. Last night I watched the 2006 documentary Maxed Out: Hard Times, Easy Credit and the Era of Predatory Lenders, a fascinating look at how politicians waste our money, how we waste our money, and how financial institutions thrive on keeping us all in debt and making those minimum monthly payments until we die. Grim but true.
Let's not get carried away with our credit cards this week.
The Greatest Enemy, besides Fear, is Debt.
I got this really, really cool picture of Romy Schneider from Iconista, who writes she has not smoked in fifteen hours and says, "It is hell." Well, of course, it is. I think maybe it was Denis Leary who pointed out that the years of life you save by not smoking are those final years of toothless slobbering senility and chronic incontinence, and that you might as well enjoy yourself now. But good luck, kid.