Coffee City

Don't fall for it girls. That's really Antonio Banderas.

Between "Spiderman 3" and "Shrek 3" this summer, I'm trioed out.

Peter Parker does Kirsten (or will he ever?), more donkey jokes from Eddie Murphy. We've got the tabloid TV producer madcap in Spidey, Cameron Diaz Fiona-sizing over the Ogre.

Much more popular than presidential debates 18 months before the next election.

Now back to heavy reading. When I last left off, some dame was in office of chief detective, complete with tissue to eyes, protesting she really loved rich, now-dead-unfortunately, husband.

I know Paris could use some good reading material for at least three weeks.



"Sir, I know this is detention. But I really don't think I belong in here."

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Wow.



First part is when she's four. Last part with Oprah and Leno together, she's six.

At eight now somewhere, maybe she should have been part of that presidential debate last night.

Whiz kids have always fascinated me, those from history like Mozart, others we glimpse in our time. Parents must have a tremendous responsibility to protect their emotional development.

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As enjoyable as it was talking and singing about Donna yesterday, (song still up, just for you, or if Lindsay checks in, wondering who the hell Donna is), these rug fur balls must go.

Domestic determination might not last past whim.

Ebay was fun yesterday. Wonder how much I spent? They hold you to those "commitments" ya know.

I'm almost out of the black hole of bidding on just a few new photos of movie memorabilia. Went as high as $100 for a classic portrait, even employed an automatic bidder program called "auctionsniper.com". It was like a horse race as the clock counted down. Riveting.

Three seconds before the end, someone out-"sniped" me to the tune of $216!

Too rich. Some guy in Australia is RAKING it in and I'm in the wrong business.

Boys and toys. At least it's not a boat.

I find myself wondering what the mailman thinks, package after package, leaving that little key with the yellow tag in my box, to open the bigger box like some sort of self-Christmas present or something.

I'd better win this Natalie Wood.



Robert Wagner didn't deserve her. Had he not let her drown twenty-five years ago, she'd be blogging in eloquent Russian amongst us.

A vacuum is a volume of space that is essentially empty of matter, so that gaseous pressure is much less than standard atmospheric pressure. The root of the word vacuum is the Latin adjective vacuus which means "empty," but space can never be perfectly empty.

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Is there any stronger candidate for making a man stick?

Jimmy Stewart meltdown.

Grace still exists.

Collecting old movie photos lately, and those few modern actresses who should have been there.

Just got the Amber Tamblyn, the Kirsten Dunst, and those gems from Jennifer Connelly and Rachel Wiesz who seem to embroil themselves in a brunette "I got him first" contest for attention.

All fall before the incredibly gorgeous Deanna Durbin, circa 1941.



This photo is worth many hundreds of dollars, and I have it when lights go out beneath the next hurricane.

At age 27, she quit.

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Think he knows he won?

Stop horsing around with photographers.

Three years old, won the race, this hoopla worse than bad barley. Get me back to the barn with Molly and May.

I guess it really is Sunday now. If you read yesterday's excruciatingly hammered-out entry, because I knew Lindsay might read it and become flattered again, twice since April.

Somewhere, Kate Bilo is jealous in between Russian novels, but she refuses to say so.

Whenever anyone like Lindsay or Kate drops you a line, thoughts of cubicles evaporate and air dancing is called for. I know Kathy Howe can give instructions on the technique.

Are you the kind of person who considers for a second the wisdom of placing a valuable safety deposit box key in one's safety deposit box? "Loss of keys will cause you considerable expense." Quandary.

I've been pumping up the economy on ebay. Enough. Paypal account exhausted. House needs cleanup. Must wait for mail. Patience is what happens to other people not tracking UPS codes 24/7.

But when I get those classic portraits, some frame shop in the greater Clear Lake City area will rope off a special corridor for me.

Red carpet treatment, and lots of "Sirs."

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I woke up this morning convinced it was Sunday. Radio infomercials.

Pulled on the robe. Yes, it is usually hung over the door and don't try to change my habits. Hit the light switch without looking, as though I'm proud of muscle memory. Down the stairs to coffee pot. My body - a bio-mechanical self-guiding drone. Grab flashlight. Take dog outside. Try to avoid crunching snails, because they are all over the place.

While Emerson sniffs grass, I play with the flashlight against the stop sign down the way, or the "no parking" sign in the church lot. I wonder why they can't park there and how reflective coating works, and isn't that cool how the photons from such a weak electromagnetic source are reflected back?

My mind. Can't be stopped.

Then back inside for the coffee. Trundle up the stairs, not trippingly. Flick on PC with that hesitating uncertainty we all feel upon opening Outlook Express. I'm always wondering which bridge I burned and what kind of reply, threat, acrimony, promise might lie in lurk.

But first, the clock, dear little time stamp in lower right corner.

SATURDAY?

Rock my world. I think there's a horse race later. Given recent blog themes, let's root for "Nobiz Like Showbiz" at 8-to-1 odds, roughly equivalent to the next date I haven't quite secured.

Most women prefer men who know what day it is.

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Deanna Durbin does Walmart.

Even the floor sweepers know me by now, deftly navigating a shopping cart around precarious towers of boxes.

Sometimes even the cashieress at aisle 32 asks me about Emerson, Clark bar on her own debit, jokes about paying for her own lunch at 4AM, gnashing teeth she wasn't behind the counter when I happened along.

They live for whistling dream-seekers.

A twisted sense of humor fills my soul for walking in there well-dressed, cell phone on hip, promoting mysterious wonderings. My pre-dawn contribution to weekly drama.

I've become an ebay junkie. Look at that portrait up there. I shudder to reveal my high bid, but I'm thinking this might become a second career as the first launches totally out of control.

But I'm losing a lot of auctions in the last minute. Some geek in Minsk hovering over a Cyrillic keyboard, waiting to rip a quickly-fostered golden hope right out from under. You don't think anyone is using a PROGRAM to miraculously win an auction by one dollar with 30 seconds left?

Today is the first Friday in May, and already the season finale for Raines.



He sees dead people.

And you can actually watch full episodes online now for free on the NBC site. Just what we need.

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