but it was her response to a plastic surgery question that really fired my imagination. i paraphrase, but the gist was "if i want to put my tits on my back, that's nobody's business but mine. and if you don't like me because of it, well, that's america." i've been searching for months now for an illuminating definition of america. little did i know i would only need to behold the glowing presence of our lady of perpetual (insert whatever makes this sentence yours here). see, this is turning into mad libs.

the freedom to put your tits on your back. THIS is a movement i could get rather fired up about. the possibilities are limitless. where is this...America? How can I sign up? It sounds delightful. It must be that city on the hill i've heard so much about. Meanwhile, down here in Murka, the war against Tur marches on against an Axis of Evil developing Nucular weapons. if only i COULD turn back time.

I find that i use the word "really" more often than i am comfortable with. i became conscious of this in a rather disturbing fashion: watching cheers on nick at nite. well, i wasn't quite watching, more channel surfing. this was an episode from right after frasier and diane broke up and frasier takes diane to task for overusing the word "really". this hit too close to home and i surfed on, finding this great piece on art in black america on pbs. other than a window display at SEARS on state st, this was the only hint that february was black history month. "...to a DEluxe apartment in the sky-high-high".

spent the morning in bed with my favorite gal pals, the gilmore girls. i've taken to waking about an hour early and instead of being productive, i rewind an hour of tv that i taped earlier in the week. i believe i've mentioned before how i can't be bothered to watch television when it actually airs. i prefer to set the vcr, live my life and fast-forward through the commercials when i wants me some entertainment. tuesday is the worst, given that upn's buffy/roswell combo is up against the girls of gilmore and the boys of smallville on the wb. don't even get me onto 24. it's a good thing that fx repeats it. i've actually got the first 12 hours on tape if anyone fancies a marathon. in order to catch it all, i MUST watch one with the rest of Murka while my trusty-rusty vcr captures the other.

since the cable was out last week (or was that two weeks ago...more about this later), i missed a pivotal roswell (morgan fairchild, chrissy seaver from growing pains, apparent death of major character) and as this week's buffy featured the return of riley and roswell was wrapping up the morgan fairchild saga, my wb pals got videoed. hence, gilmore girls on tape in bed this morning. TMI? too bad. it's the minutiae that i excel at.

i think the cold has my spidey sense tingling. couldn't be those spiderman flavored pop tarts, could it? who knew tobey maguire tasted like strawberries?

woman on train. i've seen her before. appears to have been assaulted by a bottle of bleach and a caulking gun. bit of advice: when your face and hair blend together into a disconcerting mass of beige, think twice about camel for outerwear. disturbingly, i'm convinced that some men would consider this woman HOT. try GHOULISH.

train cars covered in target ads. gives new meaning to the RED line. if only the cars were designed by Michael Graves. understand financially-strapped public transportation system's need to participate in such schemes. much like public schools and coca-cola or channel one. doesn't make it any less sad.

i'm on the elevator alone. it stops. one man enters (two men leave?). he says hello but not quite to me. we rise several floors. the doors open. as he exits, he mutters thanks. i suppose this is to the elevator. this has happened before.

well, that's america.