Portlandia: Now this is the kind of television I can get behind! Carrie Brownstein, one of my all time biggest girl crushes, in a velour tracksuit and Uggs learning about the promised land up north? And Fred Armisen (still kinda on my shit list for screwing over Peggy Olson, but this clip is helping) singing the praises of a fantastical place where the dream of the 90s is still available to the pierced and tattooed? This rules. Wish I got IFC. Starts January 21 at 10:30pm.
Honey! I’m home…!
Whew! It is crazy hot here in Hollywood. How have you survived? I’m this close to envying the Donner Party.
[Sets luggage down.]
Where have I been? Didn’t you see the Post-It note I left on our autographed portrait of Gunnar de Frumerie?
What do you mean you were struck blind by the Lord Our God while traveling the Road to Damascus? Are you crazy?
Yes, I know Labor Day traffic on I-5 is maddening, but I hardly think a detour through Syria was good idea. And anyhow, I wrote the note in Braille, so that’s no excuse for not reading it.
[Takes off shoes and unbuttons shirt.]
Anyway, I don’t want to fight.
I’ve been in Santa Barbara over the weekend. I was at a wedding for some of Corey’s friends. It was hot there, too, but at least we were on the coast, so it was beautiful.
Oh, a funny thing happened that continues a strange theme in my recent blogs. One of the humans attending the wedding was Octavia Spencer – a total sparkplug, very quick with the one-liners – and, as she was introduced to my small group, she lowered her sunglasses at me and said:
“Whoa! You have some pretty eyes! Hoo!”
Which makes two times this week that an obscure female comedian has commented on my optical globes. I know, right? What exactly are my pheromones excreting? Too funny.