What’s the Frequency, Kenneth?

I have a huge crush on Brian Williams. I never thought I’d care much about who delivered my news each evening, and I certainly never thought that anyone would ever — could ever — replace my beloved Peter Jennings, but good goddamn, if that Brian Williams doesn’t miraculously fit the bill and make me want to welcome him with open arms into my living room each evening. Because he’s totally talking directly to me, and no one can convince me otherwise. Also, he’s not wearing any pants.

Tom Brokaw, not so much. His mild speech impediment leaves me believing that he’s spitting directly in the faces of everyone he interviews, and made Brian an already welcome replacement.

(Incidentally, I loved Dan Rather, I don’t care about the disgrace and whatnot, and I think, in a strange way, he was justified in suing. He was a scapegoat! A SCAPEGOAT!)

(Also, Katie Couric, no no no, not at all. In fact, she’s terrible. So terrible, I am embarrassed for her, and it’s not — NOT — because she’s a woman. Tell me Elizabeth Vargas isn’t anchor material, because she SO IS.)

The point — this long-winded, miserable point — is that I caught up on TiVo and made sure to watch Brian Williams on SNL, and I think … I think I kind of want to marry him, and I think Adam would be okay with it, as he loves Brian as much as I do.

It’s also worth mentioning that I once knew this guy when he was but a lowly correspondent on the local station in Syracuse while I was in college, and I spent an evening doing shots with him at the local hotel bar waiting for my boyfriend to show up (he never did). A few years later, when he was with the local ABC affiliate in Boston, I would run into him outside the metal detectors in the lobby of the Brookline Planned Parenthood where I was waiting for my monthly shot of Depo Provera.

Not only did it make for one of the more awkward reunions of my life (and also maybe kind of make me HATE the guy because God, he’s such a giant tool), I ended up on the stupid nightly news exiting Planned Parenthood because — oh yes — they were filming the front doors, and was greeted the next morning with two coworkers sheepishly asking, “Hey, um, did I see you on that Planned Parenthood segment last night?”

(Not that I owe anyone an explanation, but at the time, PP was my primary gynecologist, as it was the easiest place for me to get an appointment like, EVER, and for this, and many other reasons, I adore the people at that Planned Parenthood.)

So no, I do not like David Muir, either. Not at all.

Hey, this might also be a great time to tell anyone who’s ever considered it that Depo Provera is, generally speaking, a Bad Idea. I can’t take most birth control pills as they mimic pregnancy in me so well that I actually get morning sickness and throw them up, so it seemed like a good idea at the time, and while yes, I didn’t get my period for a full two years (TWO. YEARS.), despite only being on it for one year, over the course of that year, I also gained approximately 20 pounds that dropped off almost immediately after failing to go for my regularly scheduled 12-week shot. Also, not getting your period is kind of freaky and the whole bone loss thing is also a black mark for sure.

And hey, my hair is still pink, even though I’ve washed it six times, and I’m having lunch with Tammie on Friday, and she will totally be able to vouch for its pinkness. There were a lot of open stares today at work, and once, I overheard a colleague asking another coworker, “I’m kind of color blind, but is that … is that pink? Wow.”

“YES I KNOW IT’S PINK. IT WAS AN ACCIDENT.” I yelled over the wall of cubes.

Le sigh.

*R.E.M.

33 comments November 7th, 2007

Dizzy

Oh hi! Do you have any meetings tomorrow? Because I do! At 10 o’clock, in fact. A 10 o’clock meeting at which I plan to explain to my coworkers that yes, yes, I know I have pink hair, I KNOW. And that yes, it was actually an accident, and an insane, ridiculous case of me being a dumbass and not breaking up with my hairdresser earlier, after talking about it endlessly. I’ve got to fix it, I KNOW I’ve got to fix it.

I have pink hair, y’all. Think I’m exaggerating? Because it’s so pink that I catch myself in the mirror and I actually shudder. It’s actually the same color as my banner. Yes, yes, look at the masthead, and picture my face underneath it. And worse, I was so tired when I left the hairdresser, I barely glanced at it, seriously, and when I got home, I nearly died.

Oh ho ho HO! Tomorrow should be a blast.

Incidentally, I had a surprisingly good time at Disney, despite my terrified misgivings and fear of all things Mickey. I mean, it’s never going to be in my top ten list of places to go, but it’s kind of hard to have a bad time shuffling two excited little boys around the park, and if you aren’t moved by the sight of a starstruck little girl as she catches a glimpse of Alice in Wonderland, then you don’t have a soul.

I will tell you that I very nearly shit myself on Tower of Terror and that’s not an exaggeration. I’m not a particularly pansy-ish rider — I’ll go on nearly anything, and I actually like roller coasters, but dropping repeatedly, as in an elevator that’s broken from a VERY HIGH PLACE, actually had me in tears, and I believe I was screaming, “I HATE IT I HATE IT LET IT END” or so I’m told by my 11-year-old nephew, whose shoulder my face was buried in for comfort.

Interestingly, being around Disney made me long for kids, because hot damn, the sight of that many happy kids was glorious, and I think perhaps there must be some sort of biological clock ticking to believe such things, because I’d think under normal circumstances the sight of throngs of angry parents wandering around the park shoving processed pork products into their kids gaping maws would be the greatest form of birth control under the sun, but the stars must have aligned just so, for there wasn’t a badly behaved kid in sight.

All that being said, I’m still perplexed by the Mickey ears and Goofy hats, and I still find the whole Disney culture a little … creepy at best. I’m clinging to that small vestige of my former full-throttle, Disney-hating self. Seriously, the thought that I sort of enjoyed it gives me the willies, and maybe I need a stiff drink.

And wow, I intended to write a whole lot more, but I’m still tired, because Jesus, they had me up at 6:30 every day and at the park no later than 9, and there were character breakfasts and Fast Passes and JESUS, Disney is extraordinarily exhausting.

*Siouxsie & The Banshees. During the trek to Disney, I cycled through my iPod from the beginning without skipping just to see what was there, and wow, um, I have a lot of Siouxsie. I also have a terrifying amount of Patti Smith, who I DESPISE, I’m sorry, I really do. Also, John Mayer. Did you know I owned a John Mayer CD? Neither did I.

26 comments November 6th, 2007