Ever since I did not show up at the royal wedding the rumblings among my 18 fans have increased until this morning when they reached a dull roar at last. At least that is what I have interpreted the AM hollerin' in the Mickey D's parking lot beside my office to mean.
To settle a few things I have seen in the supermarket tabloids about myself lately - These assertions are false:
Death Becomes Her (DBH) died in a limbo accident (We all know it would be clogging or two-stepping.)
DBH has a new job (I tried to put shirker as my IRS taxable profession but I never bothered to send it in.)
DBH is moving. (There is a Smartbox in my yard but it involves some scheme between my mother and son to get his room clean. It is currently holding two small boxes of treasures and has become a perch for the block's avian population.)
DBH is on the road with a band (if only.)
However, at some point aliens will land on earth and probe the tender private spots of people who have stopped taking their medicines. So the gawkers and gossips do get a few things right sometimes. These assertions are true:
Death Becomes Her has felt angry lately and is not into angry posts.
DBH is having a crisis of faith. For those of you who are not Unitarian Universalist, YES we believe in something and YES we believe in it strongly enough to be aggravated when we feel our religious institutions work against our faith beliefs. (I think my Catholic readership just tripled. Welcome to all three of you!)
DBH did go back to rebuild New Orleans and strongly considered not coming back to her home but her lovely family prevailed. If you are looking to rid yourself of some Magazine Street property call me.
DBH has spent considerable time of late inspecting the dance floors of a variety of cities. The ones checked so far have passed but the inspector's work is never done.
DBH has lost her focus and does not know what to write about.
That pretty much sums it up. When a blogger loses her focus - look out. She becomes just another failed vice-presidential candidate, Disney backed singer, or talking head on Fox news. See what I mean? Those were such dull and easy shots. I've got the mega blahs.
In the dim light of the blahs, I have tried some solo and group therapy lately which has taught me the following things about myself (but we'll put it in 3rd person to pretend it is about some pitiful stranger):
1) people with abandonment issues do not cope well with suicide loss;
2) eating more can control extreme hypoglycemia while also packing 10 or more lbs on you;
3) there is nothing on TV that will make you feel better so don't turn it on;
4) old pain still hurts.
Important lessons all but I see some of you taking an extra hit of mocha latte to counteract my doldrums so here are a few upbeat updates for the loyal fans:
In music - I do really enjoy the latest Lee Rocker CD. A Stray Cat covering "Honky Cat" is surprisingly enjoyable. Meanwhile Richmond's own The Chiggers have a new CD out and if you don't get the blues from "Every Saturday Night is Las Vegas" or shake some part of your body to "Roller Derby Girl" go to the ER immediately because your soul is broken. Download from iTunes, eMusic, or Amazon or show up to a gig and buy one of the purdy cd's.
In fashion I think the return of wedges is mildly hilarious. Let the ankle specialists begin buying vacation property! As for my sassy red polka dotted ones, they were a present from the Easter Bunny and no one looks a gift hare in the whiskers.
The roses are extra beautiful this year. Neglect spawns abundance.
My new dog continues to be a maniac. Neglect spawns a bounding nuisance.
My daughter interpreted a Picasso drawing called "Coupling" as "A boy, a beast and a cloud. And look! They're snuggling."
My son may use the Smartbox as a clubhouse and skip the room cleaning.
My husband is longer suffering than the last time you heard about him.
The undertaker bail bondsman continues to entertain. He is still pursuing his lifelong dream to organize a flashmob all dressed as nuns, start a pagan retreat center, make the perfect pork butt, and splash in as many bodies of water as possible before the Fall commencement of school.
So you see, you have not missed that much in two months.
See you for Independence Day!
Death Becomes Her