Tyne Daly Demasculinized Neal

I totally blame last night's theater in my head on Neal's bright idea to watch vintage television.

The Insight guy came yesterday and took our cable box away. It wasn't quite as heartbreaking as I had imagined. Except for the 7 episodes of American Experience and the one episode of Life, it didn't contain anything that I can't live without or find elsewhere. Neal got an HD antenna for his birthday (who needs pearls and diamonds when you've got electronics??) and he had just purchased a Roku, which allows us to download all of our news channels daily and watch on demand. Plus, we've had the ability to stream instant watch Netflix video for some time. All in all, we're pretty set to watch anything that we would want to watch (as opposed to CNN on 24-7 for background noise...which is apparently not child-friendly, anyway).

Last night, as we settled into our butt-carved seats on the couch with dinner, he loaded an instant watch show on Netflix. I thought it was going to be MI-5, which was the British template for 24 and, in my op, an infinitely better show. But no. He had loaded Cagney and Lacey. Yeah...Tyne and Meg together again (let me just say that it was not until the writers of Burn Notice wrote Tyne a part this past season, opposite her old partner, Meg, that I was clued in to their former working relationship. The skies parted, the sun shone through, angels sang the Hallelujah chorus. I got it). I will go more into the phenom of revolving fashion some other time...but for now, let me just say that I'm desperate trying to find way to make these:

They are RUBIX CUBE EARRINGS!! Tyne was sporting a pair as an undercover prostitute. And I feel the need to make and sell immediately.

Any80's, we went to bed, I read like 4 pages of A is for Alibi, my March bookclub book, and passed out asleep. And then it proceeded to all go down like this:

Neal came home from the gym, doubled over in pain and complaining that some guy had accidentally racked him during a basketball game. When he took his gym shorts off, the...er...base was badly bruised. To this, he muttered, "damn...I'm going to have to take it off to let it heal." Then he unvelcroed his penis and set it on the coffee table. Yep...it was just a flat landscape down south with a bean bag left blowin' in the spring wind. And that did not at all seem odd to me. I just knew that it would sit there, next to my stack of unread Real Simple magazines, until the bruise disappeared and he could re-attach it.

If you're thinking what I'm thinking, then you are humming Detachable Penis RIGHT NOW!! I actually woke up with the melody echoing in my head. Need some words? Let me help you out:

I woke up this morning with a bad hangover
And my penis was missing again.
This happens all the time.
It's detachable.
[background singing begins: "detachable penis" over and over]

I really suggest you give iTunes your 99 cents for this little ditty. You won't be sorry, swearsies.

And because I can't leave well enough alone, I went back to sleep. This time, Neal and I were in a mall in London (England, not Kentucky...yes, we have a London, KY...and a Paris, KY...and a Versailles, KY - pronounced Ver-SALES with about 32748 syllables) and someone released a bioterroristic gas in the mall, which killed all of us.

So now I have convinced myself that I have 7 hours to live because when I went to water my ivy this morning, it had a fungus and sticky leaves...and now my throat sort of hurts and I have a little bit of a headache. It's just a matter of time. I promised Queenie Jeannie the Mustang yesterday. Everything else is up for grabs. Except for my husband...who has to now go commit himself to the monastary and marry God. But I really hope it doesn't go down like that. Maybe if I wash my hands and eat a brownie, it will all go away. I'll give that a shot....

Oh and if this fungus doesn't kill me today, come back tomorrow because Champagne Friday LIVES and I have the BEST Top 5 Friday EVAH!