Now THAT'S Gratitude For You

The Mets have been winning, and my general disposition is one of hope. WHAT...a correlation. NYC weather is of the Springtime variation, but I am restless whether horizontal or vertical. Music of the rock & roll variety soothes me, silence woos me, and I wish I were someplace where the initials following a comma were not N.Y. Hey God, I am open to suggestions. Just give me a tweet. While I have your attention, thanks for the Chelsea Handler dream last night! I could just kiss the sky.

I Love Chelsea in the Springtime

May Day has come and gone. NYC temperature is anything but Spring-like. The Mets are playing below .500. Rain prevails and does nothing to help my depressive state of mind. I crave the sun, and I crave Season Two of True Blood. WHAT...a conundrum. And what is going on with Chelsea Handler's hair? It's been looking limp and lifeless. Meanwhile, next to Chelsea at the roundtable, Loni Love's do is full and luscious. And over in his private corner, Chuy sits nite after nite looking like Mr. Springtime incarnate in his pastel cap and vest ensembles. Maybe I need to start taking life lessons from the Mexican Little Nugget, and not be captivated by Chelsea's dazzling smile, killer deadpan stare, and boom-shakka-lakka-boom physique. Are we still in the month of May? Damn!