Bedrest

I have had the fluuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu. I am a shell of my former self, I tell you.

Moments I revisited in my head while lying in bed, looking for movies On Demand to eat away the few remaining hours of my life:

. The look Adam West gave me when I went all wrong on him. Hey, that right there is as close to Clooney I'll ever get. Leave me to my dregs.

. The time Bobby from up the street called my baby brother a "pig" and I jumped forward and before I knew it, had his bottom lip between my teeth. And I bit down hard, because no one talked smack about my brother besides me. I was five years old and FIERCE (in a totally non-hot, non-tranny reality TV show fashion).

. My first kiss. Dolly Parton was playing "Two Doors Down" on someone's portable radio and Trey took me by the hand behind the bushes. He leaned forward and kissed me. Soft, soft lips, no tongue because I was, what? 12? Just a simple kiss, and the best one ever in the whole wide world. I actually swooned. I fell sideways against the stucco side of the building and scraped my arm.

And when I wasn't hallucinating minor moments from my life, I was watching "Rock Of Love 2" and wondering if this is, truly, the End Of Days.

Today, I rose, yea, verily, from my deathbed and took the kids to San Francisco. How did I not ever know about The World Famous Bush Man?



I stood in a thin, apathetic gruel of rain, with some one hundred people, watching him. Pure madness. And yet, it is fascinating to witness, and, as you may be able to tell from the video, not hostile or creepy or strange. At least, no stranger than past the general concept of someone sitting and then shaking two handfuls of branches at people and going "Arghh!" while staying seated and hoping to get paid for it. And then getting paid for it.

I think there is an analogy I can make here between the Bush Man and blogging, but I won't.