The city I live in is called Gahanna. (It's an Indian word from a  very, very long time ago (I'm guessing from before we killed them) and it has something to do with streams -- we have a lot of streams here.) (And don't make the mistake of calling Gahanna a village! Council members fought long & hard a few years back to get Gahanna officially declared "a city" and no longer a village and they get grumpy about it if you still call it a village! Consider yourself warned, then.) (Plus, Money Magazine chose Gahanna as one of America's Best Places to Live in 2007 -- you'll note that I moved here in late 2006. I'm sure you're aware of the concept of Cause & Effect... I rest my case, gang.)

Anyway, after some tireless sleuthing on my own part, I uncovered a pretty horrible conspiracy. The city has surrounded my mailbox with an invisible force field that actually repels any new issues of Vanity Fair away from my mailbox. The magazine becomes physically incapable of landing inside the mailbox, so the postmen (I have a whole team) have refused to even bother bringing the issue in their mailbags anymore. The issue is sitting alone somewhere, in some vague, dark place, gathering dust. (Or perhaps being read by giggling teenage girls who are getting grimy stuff all over its glossy pages.)

I'm currently in the process of suing the city. My grounds are something like "discrimination" or something like that. (I purposely scribbled in that information on the legal documents so that I could make it up as the lawsuit goes along.)

Well, it is so irritating! Why pay for a subscription to Vanity Fair if everyone and their fucking grandmothers (not a pretty sight but it's a popular porn category on the Internet; have you noticed that?), are going to receive their copies of Vanity Fair months before I do???

Even my beloved cousin who bought the magazine at the store said: "I don't want to upset you or anything, Marilyn, but the new interview with Johnny Depp is so great! I hope your issue arrives soon."

"Oh, I'm not upset; I'm fine. I'm really busy, actually. I've hardly even had time to notice if my mail has even come or not."

I sit in Barnes & Noble for hours; drinking double-lattes, staring at the magazine rack that so blatantly displays the new issue of Vanity Fair. But I refuse to so much as even touch it. It's not the issue that I've already paid for, damn it.

God, I hope you  know I'm just kidding!! I'm not really that ridiculous! But it is getting annoying... And since we're going to the movies tonight to see The Tourist I can only guess that everyone else in attendance, including my cousin, will be gently fanning themselves with their now well-worn copies of Vanity Fair...

Good News!

Keith's going to have the best Christmas, ever. I am now going to the store to buy a third copy of his memoir, Life. (This one is to give to my cousin for the holidays.) (And I'm not spoiling any surprises here -- she already knows I'm doing this so that she can read the book on her holiday cruise.) I offered to loan her my audio version of the book because, frankly, only God knows when I will have time to actually listen to that 20-disk collection. But she wanted the actual hardcover book. And I don't like any extra sets of peepers peeping at the pages of my own copy until I've completely finished reading it (you know -- that's how you catch "aura" germs), so I steadfastly refused to lend her my copy of the book to take on her holiday cruise. She simply has to take her own copy; that's final. That's my final word on it. So I'm buying her her own copy... (After all, she & I saw the Stones together for the first time on June 14th, 1975 at Cleveland Stadium -- we go way back! We have been hardcore Stones fanatics since we were wee bonnie lasses!)

Okay, gang, I'm outta here!! Have a great Friday, wherever you are!! Thanks for visiting! See ya.