The bitch stole my mojo. Does anyone have Tom Cruise's cell phone number?
The Mouthy Housewives were kind enough to ask me to be a guest advice columnist this week. Nobody informed them I lost my sense of humor AND know nothing about Twitter. Because the question I was given and instructed to provide sage advice on was on the subject of Tweeting. I faked my way through it as I do most things in life. (Speaking of Twitter, how about Jim Carrey and Jenny McCarthy announcing their breakup via this astounding social media invention? Don't get me started on how un-funny I think she is. Which is I would do in a very funny way if I myself was remotely funny anymore.)
Speaking of losing my sense of humor: I'm pretty sure it was stolen and I know the culprit. Suri Cruise. I'm serious. Due to this Famecrawler gig, which was restructured and now requires a lot more of my time, I am eating, breathing (and hating) Suri Cruise. And, really, I owe her something for all I've written (and not very entertainingly) about her. Her fuzzy pig slippers, her bunny ears, her New York City dining habits, her mother's unfortunate ensembles, her father who seems to be missing in action. So she swiped my sense of humor, the little well-dressed brat. Seems fair when you think about it. Whereas she's probably regaling her parents with witty blog posts of her own, I may resort to turning my blog into a regurgitated knock-knock joke haven, or maybe a site for bad dizzy blond jokes.
God help me. I PROMISE to think of something funny to write soon. I'm thinking of going to an overnight Buddhist retreat to get my soul back into alignment. You probably think I'm kidding but I'm not. There's one right around the corner from me, which appeals to my lazy side. Are Buddhists supposed to be funny? Let's hope so.
PS -- My children are monsters. I've lost any semblance of control in my own household. There are demands for lollipops at breakfast, closet-emptying antics at naptime, furniture destroyed all in the name of "building a boat for Arnold" (the little pig from Kipper), tantrums if I don't let them don Halloween-themed outfits every day. I officially give up. Look for me (looking like a deranged mental patient) on a future episode of Nanny 911 when said nanny admits for the first time some children are beyond help. If you want to volunteer to put me out of my misery, let me know and I'll forward my address.