Okay so Good Reads is the nerdy answer to Facebook... and of course I'm a member aggressively hustling to get as many friends as possible, but there's one strange thing that's puzzling me. Is it me or is it odd that there a ton of Iranian readers on the site? Is this some vast Persian conspiracy going on? I get at least 10 invites a day from people from Tehran and while I'm totally chill on being friends with people from a groovy city like Tehran part of me thinks something is up? But then again, I thought the bus dispatcher guy at 106th street and Broadway was running a gambling ring, when he was really just checking the bus times to make sure everyone was on schedule.

I have a cold and am lying around in bed moaning to anyone who will listen. The other issue with this cold of mine is that yesterday I was feeling pretty bad but I decided to go for a run - you know - eye of the tiger and all that - also I thought maybe I'd blow the cold out of me... then after I ran about 3 miles or so I did planks -- yoga position stuff - so end result is cold is worse and my oblique muscles and my hips are so damn sore! That and my nose feels completely enormous ... I don't think I will be running today.

So -- been a while - but here I am back... Have been sort of obsessing over Good Reads which I think is sort of like a contest of nerds - in a who can read the most kind of way... And for the record when I was in 4th Grade I won a prize for reading the most books so obviously I'm looking to be Queen of the Nerds...

Today was also an eventful day because my favorite author in the world invited me to tea! That doesn't happen very often so when it does - you of course accept. If you don't you would not only be rude - but an idiot (of which I'm neither)

Not much else - found out that my best friend's old boyfriend turned out to be Uma Thurman's stalker. I told her that she was at least in good company and it was sort of a small world moment because I did a movie recently with Uma and she was so nice - though I ended up getting no credit for my work but such is the movie business.

So that's my latest...

It scares me that I find the following information to be fascinating. This is the type of stuff that makes my boyfriend call me a 'nerd' - although I am his favorite kind of nerd - but somehow I don't think this makes me a nerd... I think it makes me smart or as he likes to say 'clever'... however check this out -- it's f'ing fascinating:

Most irregular verbs are eventually regularized under some sort of linguistic evolutionary pressure to obey the modern "ed" rule of regular verb conjugation. For instance "holp" the past tense of "help" became "helped" And "chode" became "chided" - althought I personally prefer 'chode' -- However, some irregular verbs are so embedded in everyday language that they will never regularize. Although less than 3% of modern verbs are irregular, the 10 most common verbs (be, have, do, go, say, can, will, see, take, get) are irregular, reasearchers said. They calculated the half-lives of 'be' and 'have' at 38,800 years, making them the least mutable of the irregular verbs.

But what's the next irregular verb to take an -ed?... I'm sure you're not nerdy enough to want to have a contest to figure this out... so I'll just tell you. It's "Wed" -- the term newly 'wed' is going to be gone soon -- and replaced with 'wedded'... which sounds odd.

For some reason all this talk of verbs reminds me of a sentence that my lesbian eighth grade English teacher gave us for a dictation -- and I was the only one who thought it odd! or maybe I thinked it odd!

The bibliophile fingered the book fondly.

And p.s. she was staring at me when she said it. I mean said-ed it... I se-ed her with my own eyes. And I get-ed nervous!

I can't stop watching Tell Me You Love Me. I think it's fascinating. The couples, the issues, the fact that we spend so much of our lives fretting about crap that doesn't matter at all.

Now - as a writer I get the whole 'sex is a character' thing but seeing Jane Alexander - Grande Dame of American Theater - balls ass naked going at it on a chair with some actor (who is not Ed Sherin ) may just be more than I can handle!
Okay... i'm sure everyone on the show is justifying the never ending onslought of graphic nudity but let's face it people... they are having sex like porn stars -- I freeze framed one of the couples because I was certain there was what they call 'nonsimulation' meaning 'full penetration' and I'm pretty sure I saw it! the crew must be howling during filming (don't kid yourself - film crews - particularly the guy members - turn into 12 year olds when it comes to filming sex scenes.)

And yet... despite this fascination - the sex is so banal and unimportant and I find it interesting that a show about sex has so very little to do with sex. Also I find it odd that one of the characters is named Palek. It's an odd name it seems (I could be wrong, maybe there are tons of Palek's running around out there living in angular modern homes) and I feel that it should be explained. I also find it disconcerting that he looks like a cross between my b.f.'s brother and Tom Cruise. And also Sonya Walger's fake boobs sort of gross me out.

Am I the only person watching this madness?

Hey... A bit of business as we head into the weekend -- I've got a request for all you boozers out there...

I am going to be co-editing a weekly online magazine that is going up in January called The Grange Hall. The Grange is going to cover politics, books, trends, dating and debauchery -- all from a personal point of view (think This American Life meets Slate). One of the many weekly topics is going to be BLACK OUT which will feature drunken takes of debauchery and I am currently looking for contributors... Pieces should be no more than 500 words -- and links to UTube showing you running drunk (and possibly naked) across Avenua A for e.g. are more than welcome... We also have one contributor who chronicled his night (which began with dinner with his girlfriend and ended with him naked in jail) in the form of a photo essay proving a picture really is worth a thousand words (or in this case 500). If you have a great story to tell I want to publish it! Shoot me an email if you are interested or want to know more...

also -- memo to my Cousin Charlesworth (who has a great myspace blog that you should all check out): You better get a new post up soon or I'm going to tell everyone how you planted drugs on me when we went to Antigua (and p.s. - I will also mention how you tried to sell me to a resort owner in the rather dubious "sex for two extra free weeks of vacation" plan that was hatched with the assorted Rastafarians that you invited to stay in our room... )

Dear lord! I have been horrible about posting of late -- it's just the whole back to school thing had me in a dither and then there's soccer practice - did I mention I coach my daughter's U10 team and we have training sessions twice a week plus games - then my son's playing... Between soccer, carpooling, foodshopping, and other extraneous extra curricular activities (extreme pilates, for e.g.) ... How is a person supposed to work much less blog?

Also haven't been sleeping much - have chronic insomnia sometimes - which caused me to burn myself in a nasty incident involving my upper arm and a George Foreman Grill (don't ask) and last night I fell asleep sitting up!

Ok - I realize this has become some sort of complaint-fest - but that said I'm going to try and do better -- I will have some genius post readied for tomorrow but in the meantime (and more importantly) has anyone seen the new HBO series Tell Me That You Love Me? There is a scene in which one woman gives her husband a hand job and they show it! My question is - was that a prosthetic penis? I find it hard to believe (no pun intended) that an actor - even on a closed set - would be comfortable enough to do that. (but what do I know)

Let's start from there.

This probably won't mean much to anybody but it needs to be said and let it be known that it was said here first (dammit) --- I have this bad feeling that t-shirt impresario Michael Stars is about to jump the shark. The guy made the greatest t-shirts ever known to woman kind. They were one size fits all and they made giant boobs look less wobbly and small boobs look massive! But now I feel he's ruining a good thing by doing too much. He has too many styles, too many cuts and now he even has sizes! ugh. But the harbinger of doom occurred yesterday when I saw this personal Michael Stars message in my email inbox...
"Introducing our New 12-Gauge Cashmere".
What the hell is 12-Gauge Cashmere?! Actually I don't even want to know. I'm sort of depressed because I know that the demise of the perfect t-shirt is near.

This leads me to two topics that I'm too tired to discuss but somehow seem related so let's just lob them out and table them for another day: Why is it so hard to find a perfectly fitting black turtleneck? and... What is the deal with the show Big Love, i.e. why can't I stop watching it? and... why do Mormons do the crazy things they do?

Another day on both topics. Promise. (and p.s. could my subject be a more obscure T-Shirt reference?)

The homeless. They are everywhere. There's an odd disconnect when you see them. It's almost as if they're not all there, and because of this it creates a safe emotional distance between you and the shell of what was once a vibrant human being. You watch from the safety of your car maybe. You ponder the sorry state of mental health care in this country. You feel compassion and helplessness. You want very much to help, or offer solace, or maybe you count your blessings.

But today (as I was driving to the shrink no less) I saw a homeless man running across Santa Monica Boulevard. And as he risked life and limb to cross to the other side (for no apparent discernable reason though I'm sure he had his own) I couldn't help but notice that his white on white ensemble (manpris and a t-shirt) were completely filthy... and I am ashamed to admit that this was what came into my mind...

Homeless people really shouldn't wear white.

There was some interesting *dinner conversation tonight with my **eight-year-old and my ***five-year old tonight. This was because they informed me, rather nonchalantly that they both believe in reincarnation. We are loosely Catholic, in that we go to Church about twice a year (The Easter/Christmas circuit) and suffer through a mass and then leave quickly. They've heard of heaven and all that, but not to any hardcore degree that would prompt a sort of theological debate or issues of faith or anything of that sort. It all started because they had recently read a Junie B Jones book about the Tooth Fairy. For those of you not in the know, Junie B Jones is sort of a Post Modern Eloise (only she doesn't live in a hotel). According to Junie B the Tooth Fairy pays for teeth because she is recycling them into the mouths of babies (who are born toothless - as you might recall). That said, both my kids felt that souls were also recycled because "it just makes sense" and if they weren't "heaven would be too crowded and that wouldn't be very heavenly". Therefore, according to them, you die, you go briefly to heaven for a layover of sorts. Once there, you take a nap, have a shower, take a brief (though no doubt fearless) inventory, and change your underwear (this according to my son) and then Wham-O... you get shipped back down.

It sounded good to me. I tried to get the Pope on the phone for a little Holy Convo, but alas he was out shoe shopping. Still, I'd say they're onto something.


*hot dogs, apple sauce, and bok choy - not every meal can be inspired
** - daughter, brilliant
*** - son, ironic