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2003-10-05 | 1:23 a.m.

Sick as a D-A-W-G this week which is part of why I haven't written. Actually wrote a great entry in the car tonight on the way home from the store. I do all my best writing in the shower or while driving alone. Too bad there's no way to get it all down.

I wanted to talk about Siegfried and Roy, roller coasters, nicknames, shampoo, Rush Limbaugh, and why I thought Duff and I had a good chance of producing attractive children (before we had them).

Let's see if I can recap briefly.

1. Siegfried und Roy. It's dreadful that Roy Horn got mauled within an inch of his life. But these incidents support the notion that wild animals don't belong in stage shows.

2. Roller coasters. Every year, somewhere in America, people fall off roller coasters and die. Not just rickety old carnival coasters but new, state-of-the-art coasters at premium theme parks with great safety ratings. Every time it happens, there is an investigation and then ... I don't know, I never seem to hear about it again. At most, the ride is moved out and another replaces it.

What I want to know is, why don't we care? I presume the families get paid off and then those people avoid roller coasters forever after. The whole idea sets them to grieving. But everybody else keeps going.

How come they can't make roller coasters that don't just randomly eject people? How come people don't demand it? Is it because knowing that people have died adds an extra frisson of danger to the experience?

3. Nicknames. When I was a girl, I read somewhere that nicknames, even unflattering ones, denote affection. After that I desperately wanted a nickname but I never got one. In college, a few people started calling me A.B., but I was using it as a byline at the time so it doesn't really count.

Now we have a cat named Rufus who is just six months old and practically indifferent to our affection. This cat, who has never wrapped a birthday present in his entire life, who has never cooked anyone an omelet, never told them in a discreet whisper that they had toilet paper stuck to their shoe--much less dragged their sorry drunken unconscious ass off the toilet while slipping around in a pool of vomit--has more nicknames than I can count: Rufee, Rufenator, Boo Boo, Bubba, Poofus, Boofus, Foofus, Roofah-Loofah, Kitten, King, Baby, Bacon, Parrot, My Man Rufus.

4. Shampoo. Okay, I'm really trying to hurry this up, so you'll have to miss my shampoo soliloquy. But I will say that I bought my favorite shampoo tonight for eighty-eight cents. Suave Salon Formula. If I knew of a better shampoo for my hair, I'd probably buy it, but I don't. In related news, my sister and I are going to buy a case of Unicure now that we know where to find it.

What else ... well, Rush Limbaugh, I'm sure you can guess what I was going to say about him. And my hunches about genetics story is too long and will have to wait for another opportunity. Sorry to stick you with all the brainless stuff but it is very late and I am oh so tired. I promise to write better another day.

Oh, I forgot--I was also going to write about how I'm off Dean and desperately trying to find out how tall Wesley Clark is. (Do I have to call him 'General'?)

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