Eh, Happy New Year

MITTENS OFF.

Like my earlier post this year about Joy's saying that Billy Bob Thornton should just admit to being the dirty old man he really he is so we can celebrate with him, I'd like to say that Mariah Carey needs to let her Inner Aretha/Soul Diva out and let the chub take overt he capitol building. The chub has already taken over the borders and shipping routes (hips and the under-bicep flab wiggles) and by this time next year her cheekbones and jawline won't look thin enough on camera (with strategic blush) to shade in strong jawbone lines for the TV. At some point every true Diva must admit that hitting the notes makes up for not hitting the gym anymore.

Just go with it honey, it can never get *that* bad. Even Liza still has thousands of New York drag queens worshipping her till she dies. Even though these days when she hears "Minelli!" screamed at her on the street, she politely replies back "no thanks but I doesn't eat pasta anymore."

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Yes, Ryan Seacrest will be the new/next Dick Clark. What the hell else can he do?

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I've seen 'The Big Lebowski" so many times I lost count. And even tonight I noticed a new layer of writing brilliance with that film/script.

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I love how the Bangles are on Dick Clark's New Year's Rocking Eve every year.

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White Russians are awesome. Especially when you're on your 4th when you start blogging.

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'
2005 sucked ass. Big, ripe, cabbage-and-broccoli/cauliflower-diet ass. Light but putrid, like 'heavy ink-saturated plastic stuff on fire' ripe ass; Dog turd in the shoe sole, first girlfiend dumping you, one number off from winning thousands with a lotto ticket, wedgie in public, identity theft, Dick Clark strokin', food poisoning, tsunami apocalypse, Jar Jar, paying for unnecessary car repairs, favorite band flaking out, no more beer, religous fundafanaticism RIPE ASS.

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Hey! Like, 4 months till Spring dude!

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This year I turn 35 and leave the coveted 18-34 demographic target. I am officially considered uncool and worthless to the U.S consumer corporate nation-state. Unless my future kids wish to drink liquid plastic from wax snack tubes and play in my ultra clean living room being scented with plug-in toxic waste diluted down to a slow gas with chemical agent GX720 (who's label reads "smells citrus-ey") which also keeps my electric bill constant.

All we read about is how pheromones are what really attract people, but all the beautiful people wear overpriced perfume and zap the ions from their home's atmosphere to eradicate odor and replace it with clean scents. How are we supposed to get horny and know our mate's want it when our suburban biosphere kills every airborne spanish fly agent? Pat Robertson wants us to assasinate dictators, but not feel the need to reproduce more 700 Club members? I don't get it.

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2006 is big for me. The last 5 years have been an amorphous glob of time in my head. 2000, 2001, 2, 3, 4, 5 has always been in my head just another year of the millenium....hitting 2000. But since 6 is closer to 10 than it is to 0, 2006 finally feels to me like the Oo! Ah! of the millenium has lifted. It's no longer just a little past 2000/The Millenium, but the second half of a decade. I remember my life thus far per decade and can remember significant perceptionary shifts for each year. But 2000 to now has been one big cantelope. I always hated on Wild Kingdom how the lions would chase, catch and eat the cantelope. But Dad told me it was good I understand how nature really works.