Last night I told my mother that I was really sick again (lies!), in an attempt to shut her up so I could begin having a 'conversation' with her. It worked, but we didn't talk about anything except my 'sicknesses' and there's no fun in that, really. Every time she started going ballistic with the mouth and the words I would moan and cough and casually mention the wound that won't heal on my forehead. It's manipulative, but don't we both win in the end?

We had our first party in my apartment on Saturday night and it was wicked awesome! Rajo bought a million postcards and we addressed them before guests arrived. We then randomly distributed them to our guests, inviting them to write 'words of inspiration' to the receiver. Much confusion! But there were some cupcakes later. I made all the food and I have decided that my new secret talent is deciding exactly how much food to prepare for a gathering. I based my calculations on expected number of guests, time of year, type of occasion, temperature, seating arrangements, etc. etc. I just pile all those variables into my head and I just, I don't know, I can just see how many types of dip to make.

And that brings me to my next topic - the magic bullet. My mother called to tell me she had an extra one, and asked if Rajo's mother would like it (?). I said, that's so ridiculous. Why do you have an extra one, and why would you think of her? I told her no thank you, because Rajo's mother actually just bought her own magic bullet, because I couldn't stop talking about mine. But, if she hadn't bought one, she would have received one eventually .... and so completes the circle, of magic, if you will.

And then there's Andy Dick, who bit someone in the hand. My friend Laura bit me on the hand last Saturday because we were playing a game called "Lohan & Publicist" and she fell down and when I tried to help her she bit me lightly, just as a warning nip.