Alan surfed past “Queer Eye” tonight; the boys were taking on a frat house. And as those words passed through my brain — “oh, they’re taking on a frat house” — I wondered how much, er, San Fernando Valley-school cinema if-you-catch-my-drift has used QE as the framework for their plotlines. Because, you know, it’s perfect: The Fab Five take on the Sigma Chi house, and the Sweetheart gets locked out — for good! Maybe Ashley will do the soundtrack.
That may have been the most interesting thought I had all day. Illness passed through our household Monday evening and into Tuesday, and that tends to take your attention away from everything else. I discover, yet again, why I’m not cut out for nursing — too results-oriented. I want everything to happen the way it does on a Tylenol commercial; I want everyone feeling better within 30 seconds. Alas this rarely happens, although a good two-minute barf can do wonders.
I did get some reading done, and I recommend this interesting take on Bruce Springsteen, from Slate. I also heartily endorse “Gilead,” but so did the Pulitzer jury, so my second is probably unnecessary. And just to show I can roll in the gutter with the best of them, I wish the voting on “American Idol” would switch to a who-do-you-want-to-leave format, so I could give either Scott or Anthony the hook. Someone defend them — that should get the party started.