Filling Up The World

Notes on Desperate Housewives:

It's killing me that Gale Harold (aka F*ckface, damn that ExBF17 for making a nickname stick) plays such a nice guy. It might even make my love grow. Here and there, you see glimpses of the badness. I enjoyed his white shirt. Boys have the coolest clothes.

Some people's faces are falling off. I won't name names. Mine is held up by clothespins so I get it.

Felicity Huffman and Doug Savant's relationship tickles me and I loved that last night's show went Oedipal. I wish my dad had been curious enough about my teen craziness to make up an identity and flirt with me on the Internets.

Celebrity News:

If you believe anything in the tabloids, Brangelina claim to want more children. As a bitter shrew who will probably never have kids (unless I get knocked up, which could happen), I say ADOPT. Children are a blessing (some are little sh*ts, admit it) but overpopulation is a serious problem, likely what will cause The End. I know this because one science person told me, so it must be true.

Actually The End is that I've run out of Chivas and I'm too tired to leave my apartment...

4 Minutes Until DH--and Gale Harold

I survived the Staten Island Ferry. The fact that I boarded a boat makes it official that I am sort of admitting that maybe I might be dating a human even though it's not at all appropriate for my life. I'll go with the flow (though I'm happiest about the chocolate mousse and GH on DH coming up in a few).

Right now, I'm watching Valentine, a vapid cute-fest. Dish loves the gods and goddesses of old but this show is a little stinky. Jeremy Piven was more entertaining in Cupid many years ago. This current fiasco stars the talented actor, Kristoffer Polaha, who played John-John a few years ago, as Eros and all sorts of love hijinks. Finally, the arts are no longer portraying Eros as a cherub with an arrow. If you've read The Golden Ass by Apuleius (not gay porn), Eros is a hot stud who will make you hurt with love. I'm not feeling it from this show, though the casting of Eros and Aphrodite is decent.

Dish's suffering ends in four minutes. What will Susan's painter do this time?

Out of My Mind with Duran Duran ESPness

DISH IS BUSTING A SPLEEN!

Because it's been four months since I've seen them in concert, I was missing my boys. Only to find out today: THEY ARE COMING TO THE US AGAIN!

Dish is scrambling to get tix to one of the NJ shows. Now if only I could get my first backstage pass in 40 years. No...that's too much to hope for. (And I would need a big drink and pills beforehand---just kidding, Dish secretly has nerves of steel).

Which Witch?

In The Witches of Eastwick, Dish is totally the Susan Sarandon witch (but wanting to be Cher). My nightmare is teaching middle school band but as with Susan, pulling my hair back tight, slipping on glasses provides excellent armor against the rigors of everyday life. Which witch are you? On a Saturday afternoon and as I still sported inexplicable rage, this fluffy flick kept my mind off the blasted ferry schedule. The best part of the movie: when the amazing Veronica Cartright blurts out in church, "Whores!"

Dish's first wave of madness hit this morning, so I slipped in High Art, where Ally Sheedy proved what a good actress she is (and kinda hot, too!). ExBF11 said the best makeout session he ever witnessed was Ally and her boyfriend going at it in the parking lot of the Northshire Bookstore in Vermont. He maintains it lasted for about half an hour. Wow. Broad daylight, famous, and in a parking lot--that's impressive.

Whores!

Cranky Pants

Ever have a day when a nasty person speaks to you the wrong way and you want to pull out a shotgun? Or at least say, "Get your bony ass out of my sight." That's Dish this Friday. Any number of things could have helped: the nice boy who opened a door for me, the coconut macaroon I scarfed after a grueling workout, Dr. Phil's gentle ministrations with a troubled family, a phone call from a celeb. Dish is still in Bitchtown (population: me).

Maybe it's that I have to take the Staten Island Ferry this weekend. Like Samantha on SATC, I don't do burrough (anymore) and have added to my forbidden zones anything above 96th Street on either side. Watching Melanie Griffith in Working Girl might get me across that Superfreak of a river (don't tell me it's an ocean). Perhaps, too, if I get myself some Pall Malls and a tall beer, it'll ease my discomfort.

Happy Birthday, Peter!

Peter was born 25 (who loves you?) years ago, making Earth a better place. I met him for the first time four years ago as he shuffled from room to room getting ready for a party. Handsome, super-friendly, creative, energetic, he's important not only because of who he is, but also because he makes J.J. happy, which means J.J. won't shave my head in a fit of rage. Dish was most impressed seeing Peter in The Producers on Broadway and then his one-man show Clown. Now I'm lucky to hang with him and his hubby J.J. on nights when I'd normally be playing computer solitaire. Happy Birthday, Peter! You rock everyone's world!

SPOILER ALERT:
Speaking of world rocking, Dirty Sexy Money was outrageous last night. ExBF17 had to visit (such is the power of Dish) but he was again instructed to be quiet, no idiotic comments, no dissing anyone on the show. Sadly, ExBF17 predicted each event before it happened, but redeemed himself by providing nasty dirt on Blair Underwood. I'm still reeling with afterglow from Billy Baldwin's wife's tirade and her surprising yet satisfying death via failed Psycho shower sabotage. That's the best way to kill off a nasty spouse who keeps you from your he-she girlfriend. My fave part of the night: When Blair said, "I love you" to Karen and she said, "Thanks!" (Way to keep the upper hand, Karen!) What an ending: Laetitia Darling led away in handcuffs. I know my Jill could chew through steel to get free! Or at least freeze Lucy Liu off the show.

Because Dish likes to be literary, here's a tip from my famous reading couch: Phyllis Curott's The Love Spell--buy it, own it, live it (take hot lavender, sage, peppermint baths and dream of James Dean). Dish loves witchiness and Phyllis writes an enchanting "erotic memoir of spiritual awakening."

I'm Just Saying...

Don't you think Jill would totally win? See below.

Hot Daddy Donald and Jonesing for Jill

Dish is hyped for Dirty Sexy Money, where Donald Sutherland brings back sexy to TV. He is hot hot hot and no one's voice turns Dish into a puddle faster (well, there is one voice). With Mercury in Retrograde, my computer and I-Pod freaking out faster than me on a plane nestled between two screaming kids (I love kids just not on a plane), I'm so into tonight's premiere.

But you know, I'd like to gush about Jill Clayburg. Her singing warmed me through middle school when I played "Kind of Woman" from Pippin over and over. In my callback for the part of Ado Annie in Oklahoma, I sang that song. Wrong key for Dish and I lost the part to skinny blond Denise (who was sorta perfect, actually) but I treasure Jill. She brings life to all her roles, yes, even as the mother in Fools Rush In. I remember her sauntering around in her underwear in An Unmarried Woman, loving her husband who had just cheated on her. She gets through the divorce and finds herself fabulous without the mans. She is beautiful and talented--by no means everyday or customary. Just your average ideal.

ps. Plus, if Jill's pointy nose got into a swordfight with Kate Walsh's pointy nose, Jill wouldn't totally kick Kate's Private Practice butt.