Coat of Many Colors:
I never thought that Dolly Parton would mean so much to me. I never expected her to be the queen who ruled my heart or a personal hero. I just love her…SO MUCH. Today, she posted a picture on Instagram — and isn’t it adorable to think of Dolly on Instagram? — of herself reading one of her books to children and I nearly wept. I did a bit.
Her organization has shipped nearly seventy-five million books to needy children! Were you aware of her impact? She’s basically a deity. She’s one of mine, and I’m a reverend so I can say things like that. Will any of us ever forget the day Jessica and I went to the O2 in London and watched her sing, mime playing a saxophone, thank us for our money, and make me shudder uncontrollably as she sang “White Limozeen?” I know I never will. Therefore, when it was announced that there would be a series of television movies based on her life and her songs, I lost every last bit of my shit that I hadn’t already lost. (I lose my shit a lot.) The first one was based on her triumphant song, “Coat of Many Colors,” and I couldn’t wait. The line, “One is only poor only if they choose to be,” has always spoken to me on a spiritual level. So I drew a very hot bath, poured out a kir pêche, and deep conditioned my hair as I watched the film in my bathroom theater. (That was one of the dumbest and most genius things I’ve ever concocted. I don’t know if I could honestly live without a large screen television hanging above my bathtub at this point. Why would you want a life without luxury like that?) And the film was marvelous. I was drawn in at once by how everybody was attractive and had perfect makeup even though they were the second poorest family in the county. And the little girl who played Dolly was triumphant, espousing such wise lines such as, “I’d rather be plain ugly than just plain.” She was a sass master! And the parents were charming, even though I never could understand why Dolly’s mother was such a dictatress about her husband going to church. Why should he have to? That was a major plot point. But did I care? NO! I was having too much fun watching this trite and cheesy Christmas special. I was living my best life and so were all the characters on screen. It was great. It was fabulous! It was the greatest thing on network television this year! I hope they make a movie for every Dolly Parton song she ever wrote. NBC, if you’re reading this, here’s the top three I suggest: 1) “Jolene,” for the obvious reasons. So much drama! 2) “White Limozeen,” because who doesn’t love a rag-to-riches movie about Hollywood success? 3) “These Old Bones,” because a movie about a dying witch and her orphaned daughter would be television gold. You better take notice, NBC. PLEASE! And hire me to do anything. I MEAN ANYTHING for the production of these. They should be a seasonal delight every year for the rest of time. Dolly’s immortal after all. Don’t tell me she isn’t.
Jiffy Pop Popcorn:
It’s a miracle I survived to adulthood since I spent the majority of my youth consuming only popcorn. I would have it for lunch and for snacks and I still oftentimes have it for dinner. There’s nothing better with a chunk of cheddar cheese. I guess that’s a weird thing, but it’s always been normal for me. Everybody’s normal is different… I am currently out of my mind obsessed with air popped corn with sea salt and extra virgin olive oil. It’s ridiculously good and I highly recommend it. I love that air popper more than I ever dreamed. I said to myself, “Self. How could I possibly enjoy something cooked with air, something that tastes of styrofoam?” But, I was wrong. So wrong. This post has nothing to do with air popped popcorn, though, it has to do with Jiffy Pop. It’s a miracle. We used to get them once in a while and it was such a fabulous treat. It was exciting to shake the pan for fifteen minutes while our old burner heated up to a temperature hot enough to pop the kernels. It was salty and the kernels were firmer than they were from the microwave, so I was a major fan. But, these cost more than any other kind of popcorn, so they were never anything more than an occasional indulgence. And so, I forgot about Jiffy Pop. The other day, though, I saw it hanging from the shelf at HyVee, so I tossed it in the basket. That night, I turned on Keeping Up With the Kardashians, which has become a ritual, and put my Jiffy Pop on the stove. I have a professional gas range now, so it was heated up immediately. It popped beautifully. It tasted delicious. I’m obsessed. I need to see if I can get it in bulk on Amazon or as a monthly delivery. I’d lose my shit every time.
Ab Fab Film Coming Out:
Most of my vacations are planned around an event like a play or a museum exhibit. It helps to narrow things down because a trip can become far too broad and overwhelming. How could you possibly narrow down everything to do in Paris or London? It’s so much nicer to have an well-edited list of things to see and do. So, imagine my utter joy when it was announced that the Absolutely Fabulous film is coming out in July! I knew it was real, but now it’s really real! Patsy and Eddie are going to be on the big screen! I’ll see them traipse through the south of France and make jokes, and it’s going to be the best two hours of my life. I will die. I’m planning on it now. It will be a happy death, dying with Joanna Lumley and Jennifer Saunders in front of me. What a way to go! ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ So, Jessica and I are planning our European jaunt around this movie. I want to go to the premiere and scream until my throat bleeds. I will wear a bird on my head and say, “Will it stay with me forever?” Then I will squeal endlessly as I joke, “Is it a bee?” It will be too much for me. If I get either of their autographs, I will head to the nearest tattoo shop and get their names inked upon me immediately. Jennifer and Joanna are great inspirations to me. I admire those two more than anybody. They are funny and generous and courageous and Joanna Lumley is one of the only people in the world that I would happily change places with. That’s not an easy thing to admit since I completely enjoy being myself, but I would change with Joanna in half of a heartbeat. I can’t wait for the film. Even if it’s garbage, I’m going to love it. Seeing it with other Londoners is going to be incredible. I’ll cry.
I have so many ideas for this summer’s trip out of the country. I mean, you just read the Absolutely Fabulous post. I will go to Europe every year for as long as I’m able. There is no force of adult responsibility that is ever going to stop me from seeing the world. I am an adventurer by heart, and I hope that someday I can turn that into a career, whether it be doing literary research or Egyptological work. There’s no reason to stay at home when the world is waiting for me. I have ideas for this year that range from exploring more of Great Britain, staying in a German castle, catching up with Madame Betty, and riding on the Trans-Siberian Railroad from St. Petersburg to Beijing. I have a million ideas running through my mind. Who knows what I will actually do? I always have vague ideas, and most of them tend to come true, but I don’t have to have anything solidified until spring. Then I’ll decide. A friend was telling me about Singapore, and I am terribly tempted. It’s like California in Asia. What madness is that? I’m crazy about the idea. I want to go anywhere and everywhere. I don’t care where I go. I’d go to the middle of nowhere. I’d even go to to that island of plastic in the middle of the Pacific. I need to see deserts and rainforests and rivers and I’d even go to Antarctica. I wonder where I’ll go?
I just finished my semester and I did effing great. Don’t get me wrong, I’m super humble…lolz. I passed every class with an A , even astronomy, which was an incredible shock. I was nearly one hundred percent certain that I would get at least a B, if not lower. But I got an A and I’m still on that President’s List thing that I was bothered about, so that’s a relief…that doesn’t really matter in the scheme of things. I don’t know why I get my mind so wrapped up in that competition crap. Anyway, this is a long introduction to say that I received 100% in my Detective Fiction class. My final paper didn’t get one mark. Not one comma was corrected, not one bit of grammar was changed, not one idea was questioned. This bothered me tremendously. In fact, it’s one of my biggest pet peeves. How could I receive a perfect score? Surely there’s something on it that wasn’t quite perfect. I would have been happier getting a 97% with a note on something I could work on. It’s more realistic. Why don’t they just give me a degree if I’m proficient? They need to be realistic.