I'm rereading Wuthering Heights and I just have one question:

What's "wuthering"?

I mean, Heights.....do they wuther?

ME: Hey Heights, it's good to see you.

HEIGHTS: You too, Jill. It's been a while. What have you been up to?

ME: Oh, the usual. Work. Doing comedy. How about you?

HEIGHTS: Me? Well, mostly I've just been wuthering. It's up to like six hours a day now. The wife hates it. She wishes I just played video games.

ME: Errrrr.......

Wuthering? Anyone?

I've figured it out, chums.

The problem, that is. The one I have with going to the gym.

If I wash my dishes, you know what I have the next day? Fewer dishes to wash. If I spend an hour picking up clothes off my floor, what do I get? Fewer clothes to pick up. If I mop my floor, what happens? I have a floor that doesn't need mopping anymore.

(Keep in mind, this scenario is purely hypothetical. I don't want to mislead anyone into thinking that I actually DO clean my apartment.)

But if I lift weights at the gym.....lots and lots of diligently heavy weights....and I lift them geniusly, with joy and gusto and charm and brilliance....you know what I get the next day?

Heavier weights.

Sigh.....

The President of Iran, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad is currently visiting New York City.

(Who wouldn't want a visit from a guy whose name sounds a little bit like falling down the stairs?)

Yay-and-sparkle-hands for us!

While he is here, I would like to show him around.

I think I'll take him to see the Empire State Building and then a matinée of "The Lion King." Yes. We'll go to the Central Park Zoo and look at cute-as-buttons polar bears. Afterward we will eat giant bagels and yummy pizza and buy various items with hearts and "New York" on them. 'Twill be splendid-like.

But it seems he already has plans.

You see, some people prefer eating bagels and going to the zoo, whereas others prefer making speeches denying the existence of the Holocaust.

To each his own.

Frankly, I think he might be on to something here. Damn the torpedos! *I'm* going to start denying historical events. Why???

Because, chums, I believe the children are our future.....

And let's just say more denial of historical events, means more A-pluses on history tests ("When was the Spanish Inquisition?" "Never!" "That is correct.")

More A-pluses means more children get into college. Which means there will be more college graduates to get jobs as consultants (what DO consultants do?). And, thusly, everyone in America will become happily upper-middle-class and buy organic vegetables.

And isn't that what's best for everyone?

Remember the Alamo?

I don't.

Do you think Mr. Heimlich is mad that he doesn't get royalties every time someone chokes?

I need to create a maneuver. And how!

Quick! Help!

I have completely lost my voice (I know, I know, it's always the last place you look for it.)

Problem is, I just got called for a big commercial audition in two hours.

If anybody reads this in the next two hours and has secret get-back-your-voice remedies, please comment.

Yes, do.

Things I overheard that make me want to stop listening in on my co-workers' conversations:

"What!?!? How did I *not* know the Spice Girls have a concert coming up!??!"

I might have to get a new job.

(Chums, I went straight from busy to sick. I'm pretty sure I have SARS again. But I'll back soon. In spades.)

(I never understood that saying.)

Sigh.....

I seem to have tripped and fallen into a giant pit of too-many-things-to-do-in-a-short-period-of-time.

I'll claw my way out soon; I promise. Maybe tomorrow. Or Halloween.

When's Flag Day?

If you have spent the last week or so with your head in a bucket then you may not be properly up to date on all the exciting news that has happened in our great country this week (also, depending on how long your head was actually IN the bucket, it may actually have become bucket-shaped.)

Lucky for you, chums, you have me---a girl who was chosen by her high school graduating class as "The Girl Least Likely to Spend a Week With Her Head in a Bucket"--to update you in a compelling-and-possibly-accurate fashion on my favorite scandal.

Whee.

Here is the scandal as best I can tell it: See, there was this Senator in an airport bathroom. This part of the story is not even a little bit scandalous. Senators go to the bathroom just like you and me except that when Senators go Number Two, they refer to it as "filibustering."

Anyway, as I understand it, said Senator was "filibustering" in his stall when he started performing some feet and hand motions that made the police officer in the stall next door think that he was soliciting gay sex.

It would be for the best if you didn't ask me any specifics on the feet and hand motions in question, because I never really understand that part of the story no matter how many times I read it.

So yes. Airport bathroom. Hand motions. Gay sex.

(Oh dear. Just the google hits from that line alone will be overwhelming.)

To be fair, having spent several hours in an airport in Kalamazoo, Michigan just a few short weeks ago, I can assure you that the stifling airport atmosphere will make even the most normal person do all sorts of crazy things. I, for example, drank TWO root beers and then, later, ate an entire cinnamon roll without a fork OR a napkin.

Oh yes, it was a crazy day.

But two root beers is, I think, a far cry from soliciting gay sex in a bathroom. Although, I suppose if we're being accurate, the more root beers one drinks, the more time one will have to spend in the bathroom. And, I feel pretty sure that, the more time one spends in the bathroom, the more likely one is to, eventually, solicit gay sex there.

Probably.

(I would not suggest this as a good advertising campaign for root beer, by-the-by.)

But here's the truly fascinating-and-scandalous thing about this Senator: He doesn't even LIKE gay people. Nope. According to his voting record, he doesn't think gay people should be allowed to get married or have children and employers should be able to fire them just because they're gay (in his defense, Congress never had a "Should Gay People Be Allowed to Have Sex In Airport Bathrooms" bill for which I feel certain he would have voted a resounding yes.)

So apparently, friends, the logical way to deal with one's obvious dislike for gaiety (gay-ness, gayosity?), is an elaborate system of hand-signals which lead to gay sex in the bathroom.

HATING gay people leads to gay sex.

For real.

The concept concerns me greatly , friends. For, you see, I hate lots of things. Mayonnaise, for example. Bad grammar. People who type the letter "u" instead of "you." Techno music. Bingo in prime time.

And I don't want to somehow, though no fault of my own, find myself soliciting mayonnaise in an airport bathroom.

Just the hand-signals alone would be horrifying.