Male manicurist, Phil Collins in the background--so genius, raining and I don't want to venture out in my high heels, falling happens often for Dish, nails look super-fab, but so disappointed about last night's The Nora Walker Show: Epic shocking denouement, she's a florist, not a lesbian, a Boniva taker, not a flying nun. Would be so refreshing for Sally to be a lez, but then no more bfs, as with Lindsay (a girl's name, come on, England) from Chariots of Fire and Danny "I'm too old for this sh*t" Glover, Jon Tenney (called me for my 40th birthday) and Such-a-Treat Williams. It doesn't make the stomach turn like all the closeups on CNN's Parker/Spitzer. Who are we kidding, it's Spitzer/Parker and she is barely a dust ruffle. Spitzer is back, Jack. TG and I ralph daily over how this world is in shambles but we make no generic claim of moving to Canada like other faux-bohemian-affluent-liberal acquaintances. You know who you are, but then, you don't read this because celebrity is pitiful (we say delicious). Will do peace march for all transgressions, including freedom of thought. The smile is back and so is Ben & Jerry's Mint Chocolate Chip ice cream.
Bright light: Bill Maher's Christine O'Donnell footage--though it is more silly than damning. Dish was in love with Sonny Bono at age five. I once tried to make an empty chalk carton rise from the power of thought--maybe that was more recent. The only people who might take O'Donnell seriously don't watch Maher.