obsession is a hilarious, sidesplitting comedy about a selfish dweeb who ruins the lives of two beautiful young women and one cat. we paid actual money to watch this movie in the theater on the enthusiastic recommendation of the teens, so yeah………..my fucking fault. i will literally never be listening to them ever again. i thought my husband’s wife was dead is a pulse-pounding thriller in which the least well known of destiny’s many children breaks out of captivity and shows up on the doorstep of her husband who has absolutely moved on in the years she’s been gone. the acting is like…………….my barbie dolls gave more convincing performances in 1987? 10/10 A++++++ stepfather is an incredible remake of an incredible remake, except in this one taye diggs is cast in the role of shane hollander’s dad who was playing the role of dan humphrey’s dad in the first remake. GOT THAT? the stepmother is essentially my biopic: erica mena, in a series of insane shake n’ go wigs, burns down her man’s house (pretty please just watch the beginning of this to see the burning special effects, it’s like the “this is fine” meme made real, a pencil drawing on a sheet of notebook paper would be more realistic) then meets elgin smith the third and proceeds to terrorize him and his child. her best friend is played by cynthia bailey, and if anyone other than me had a working sense of humor there would be a friendship contract scene between all the scenes of actors crying while shedding zero tears. this cinematic masterpiece was produced by the one, the only keith douglas sweat, and please give him his oscar immediately. the sheep detectives is maybe the greatest movie i have ever seen in my life? first of all, my stupid ass didn’t realize it was for kids (somehow the CGI sheep in the trailer didn’t tip me off?) so when we walked into the theater with a bunch of eight-year-olds i was like “damn i hope i don’t end up on a fucking watchlist after this.” anyway, hugh jackman is aging like delicious cheese. the wrong marriage is like a lobotomy, and that is why i loved it. in this house we worship at the altar of the queen vivica a fox. remember when i cried over her memoir slash motivational self-help book with chelsea on glamorous trash? I LOVE HER. what a fucking legend. set it off! soul food! two can play that game! independence day! kill bills 1 and 2! a vivica anjanetta fox summer syllabus:
the wrong baby daddy
the wrong life coach
the wrong roommate
the wrong blind date
the wrong cheer captain
the wrong valentine
the wrong real estate agent
the wrong wedding planner
the wrong housesitter
the wrong teacher
the wrong prince charming
the wrong obsession
the wrong friend
the wrong crush
the wrong student
the wrong child
the wrong man
the wrong mommy
a few things i’m considering getting into: balloon pants. daily journaling. washing my face before bed. british crime dramas. knowing rugby players’ names and/or thigh circumferences. calling people “mama.” epistolary novels. watching every alien movie in one day. domino, the kirke sister. dominos, the pizza. dominoes, the game. youtube barbers. costco gasoline. listening. memorizing an album from start to finish. texting people back. trying not to win the “customer the staff likes the most” award at every store i go to. mochi pancakes. being organized. shoes that aren’t ugly. making chopped salads at home. benson boone. having a tequila fresca every night. keeping sunscreen on my person. sending voice notes that are shorter than seven minutes long. learning to draw something. pistachio-based drinks. quietly getting rid of a streaming service to see if anyone notices. vacuuming my car. fiber capsules. thank you cards. knowing a single instrumental jazz album other than kind of blue. exotic vinegars.
i just read this hilarious romance novel pot shot by laura piper lee that was pretty much manufactured in a lab specifically for me: a stoner with crohn’s disease falls in love with her mean ass doctor??? inject it (along with the remicade and also the imuran) into my veins. a few more romances in my TBR: big girl blitz danielle allen (fat black lady); hold me like a grudge celine ong (gay wrestlers); flirting lessons jasmine guillory (black lesbians); the tuxedo society paul rudnick (gay james bond); reel kennedy ryan (fat black lady); thirty love tom vellner (gay tennis); the fastest way to fall denise williams (fat black lady); you should be so lucky cat sebastian (gay baseball).
BRAND NEW SONGS i’m playing on repeat:
jealous lover the rolling stones (my fathers)
voyager pj harvey (my mother)
morning dew (donk) beyoncé (my sister)
just like you jensen mcrae (my daughter)
on wires carly rae jepsen
is it cool? steve lacy & sza
permanently obsessed baby queen
love sensation madonna
am i okay?! durand bernarr (so, so good)
BIG DOG TI
congratulations to the new york knickerbockers and their insane fans, nothing is more fun than watching new yorkers lose their minds in the streets. everybody is so happy! i love watching people be happy!!! i’m not gonna be a bandwagon guy, but i will say that my homegirl elizabeth made shirts and asked if i could help her get one to my other homegirl cynthia knickson and i worked it out, which made me feel like michael clayton or olivia pope or something.
did you know i have a father in law? what a crazy ass sentence. jerry is so nice, he was a teacher and an elementary school principal before he retired and very much still has that “the principal is your princi-pal” energy. he reads a ton (i hope not my books) and writes really long and thoughtful reviews of each book he reads (again, hopefully mine not included), and at his house for father’s day lunch he and i had a spirited conversation about modern indigenous fiction; due to my irrepressible codependency, i decided to send him some of my recent faves (he doesn’t really dig horror, otherwise there would be 500% more stephen graham jones in here) the minute i got home:
there there tommy orange
junk tommy pico
night of the living rez morgan talty
white horse erika t wurth
winter counts david heska wanbli weiden
the only good indians stephen graham jones (what a fucking knockout)
some shit i found when i cleaned my office yesterday:
this tomato lip oil i know i got bullied into buying on instagram
do i remember buying a heart-shaped post it note dispenser? no
“healing ointment”
cheated on my beloved pilot G2s with a box of these
a puffy glasses sleeve with kittens on it
for a minute there i thought i could be a person who is into hydrating facial mists
this book dissection of a murder that i was rabid to get my hands on then immediately misplaced and forgot about
unopened weed lube
whimsically-shaped eyeglass wipes (donut, school bus)
one of these felt and fat confetti plates with some sort of congealed viscous sauce stuck to it
this incredible hypertonic nasal spray i use for my gross rhinitis and post-nasal drip (and for my real sniffers, try the carbonated one)
an unopened pack of pencils made for literal children that i use on my crosswords
i had a pretty intense and revelatory therapy session with my psychiatrist a couple days ago and one thing that sucks, out of the many many things that suck, is that you’re never too old to discover some new rotted thing about yourself and your personality. for the first time in however many years i’ve been talking to her i mentioned this truly devastating end of a friendship from like 25ish years ago? and part of the whole ending of it all (not my choice, obviously) was my listening to a list of things that i’d fucked up, ways in which i proved to be a less than desirable person, and as i was telling the doctor that she was like, “hey, do you think maybe you created this fawning, people-pleasing personality” (a thing i’m supposedly working on) “because you feel like a person you loved and trusted rejected you so you’ve spent your entire adult life trying to be worthy of someone who doesn’t talk to you anymore?” i was gobsmacked, because YES??? and it only took two decades of shoving my head up my ass for someone to help me figure that out!!! all that to say that it never gets better, you can and will continue to find more and more things that are bad and wrong about yourself as long as you live, personal evolution is not real, and i’m about to scam myself into buying a workbook about weathering an identity crisis (is that what this is?) because i’m addicted to the myth.
OLD ASS SONGS i’m playing on repeat:
mixed bizness beck (don’t sleep, this knocks)
scabby head and legs this is the kit (on my writing playlist)
dibujos de mi alma y la bamba (on my stoner playlist)
cool god jack symes (stoner playlist)
run away old man canyon (stoner playlist)
time moves slow badbadnotgood
how to meet yourself hiatus kaiyote
big wheels electric light orchestra
arrow through me wings
pride is over so i’m back to feeling deep lesbian shame for the next eleven months, BUT: my books are bisexual and i forgot to guilt people into buying them during the thirty days they’re feeling the most charitable toward annoying gay people. you know what’s crazy? more people than i will ever meet in my life read what i wrote about being married to this mean-ass lady in my house and my bonehead ass did not take that golden opportunity to peddle my precious, sexy children? a crime actually!
it’s hot, take it easy, here’s an old thing that still really makes me laugh.