A Real, Honest to Goodness Post by the Belle Herself

So here I am, typing away on my delapidated iBook, eating buttered popcorn jelly beans and drinking a Coke that I swore I would stop drinking last week. The more things change, the more they stay the same, huh? Very, very weird.

So how are things? So it's been awhile since we talked. Sorry about that. You know, I had that thing. That thing with the moving across the country. Yeah, it was ok. And you? What have you been doing? Oh that's good. Good to see you, good to see you.

Oh, you wanted to hear more about that moving across the country thing that I mentioned? Oh, yeah, see, that was freakin' sweet. Except Kansas. Yes, folks, the state of Kansas, along with the band that bears its name, sucks. You see, Matt kept trying to diss Kansas as we approached it, and I stuck up for it, saying, "Well, it can't be as bad as Indiana." But, Kansas, you proved me wrong. You sucked the proverbial goat penis. Except for the Wyandotte BBQ outside of Kansas City. You rocked my world with your pulpy sauce and pink coleslaw. Seriously. But the rest of Kansas, well, it can all go to hell.

But other than that, the trip was great. And then moving here has been, for the most part, great. I love my new NorCal home, with its strange weather, its eternal breeze, its neverending stream of fog. I love my Chinese landlord, who speaks less English than George W. Bush, and the El Cerrito farmers' market, with its hybrid fruits and cheap tomatoes. I even love my job, unprestigious as it may be, but more on that in a bit. So overall, I love it here, am incredibly happy and not really stressed for what seems like the first time ever.

It's not what I thought it would be at all, to tell you the truth, which is probably a good thing. I don't have the job that I thought I would have (the job that I was hired for) because of a budget glitch (i.e., they laid me off before I ever came to work), so I am working as a cookie/coffee maker at a kitchy little cafe inside of a classical music store. And really, I am cool with that. It's a fun job where I get to see a lot of neat people, I get to bake cookies, and I don't work for Starbucks. So there's that. And since I go in at 6:30 in the morning (seriously) I get off in time to have some serious cooking/reading time. Perhaps more importantly, I don't live in Berkeley, rather I live in El Cerrito, where you can get a bigger place for less moo-lah. So instead of a closet sized apt. in Berkeley, we have a house here--an real house with no one living under, over or beside us. We even have a yard, and a full dining room, and a Japanese garden in the front. So that's good. In fact, it's all good. For the first time ever, I feel calm and cool and at peace. And that's probably the most exciting thing at all.

So let me endow this petty blog with this knowledge: it's best when things don't go according to plan. I know I joke around a lot on here, but seriously, this whole move has taught me the most important lesson. And that lesson is that in this life, you gotta roll with the punches. Life is chaos and little more, and things never go according to plan, and that's probably good, because as stupid as we all are, our plans are not that great anyhow. So if I never give you any more good advice, I'll give you this: loosen up. Pay attention to the ways that you are led to go by something bigger than yourself. Don't pay attention to the crazy ideals of this country. Just pay attention to the way the wind blows, and believe me, sooner or later, it will blow you the right way. Ok, that's enough of the touchy, feely stuff. That is just too much, and I apologize.

But anyway, I just read a new book that I am going to add to my favorites list: A Confederacy of Dunces by John Kennedy Toole. This is a very funny, very good, Southern tale. So, after you take my wonderful advice about life, run out and grab this book. While you might regret taking other elements of my advice, you won't regret buying this book. Seriously.

Oh, and while I'm dishing out advice, here's this. Get TiVo. It rocks more than Axl Rose's jungle.

Well, must go. I need to start on cleaning up my kitchen so I can make some pork chops for supper. Have a good un! And remember: You can be my dixie chicken, and I'll be your Tennessee lamb. And we will walk together, down in Dixie land!

Letter of Truth: California Girls Edition

Hey all! Britney here. You know, Britney Federline? Yeah, it's me! Totally me. See, I've got all this new time on my hands, with being PREGNANT and all, and since I don't really have anything to do but throw another bag of Cheetos in the deep fryer (baby food--he he!), I thought I'd update Morgan's blog for her. Cause, see, we've got a lot of common now--we're both Southern girls who live in the great state of California. Even though Morgan lives in the other, cold part of CA, (seriously, it's as cold as Cameron Diaz up there, but you didn't hear that from me), we still have a lot of common. So here I am, talking for my new BFF, who says she is too busy to update, but really I doubt that. See, she just got TiVo, and now she's just as lazy as my husband, who I am really starting to have some mean thoughts about, let me tell you. But that's for another time and place, I guess. Let's just say that if I have to pay $3745 again for a bill to 1-900-HOT-CHIX, some manpri wearing boy toy might find his hand in the deep fryer! So there.

But anyway, Morgan is doing well, I think, even if she does make coffee for a living. She doesn't work for Starbucks, which sucks for me, but for this little classical music store with a cafe in it. It's okay, I guess. But they don't have frappucinos, which, like I said, sucks for me, because frappucinos are so good for the baby because they're like milk, only amplified with vitamins and other good stuff. With all the frappucinos I drink, my baby is going to be super, super healthy, even with old what's his face smoking all the time around my bump which is just SO NOT COOL. But anyways...

Back to Morgan...she lives in this house now, which she got for a good price because she rents it from a guy who doesn't speak English. And it's a cool house because she's spending all her husband's money that he gets from reading stupid communist stuff at Ikea buying rugs and shelves and this big ass computer desk. So that's good. And she lives right behind the BART station so she can ride anywhere she wants to go without getting on the highway because she's like really creeped out by driving in California.

So I guess that's it. My wrists are getting totally tired from typing all this. I'm not in shape anymore, guys, because my mom isn't standing over me anymore waving a dollar bill and a cattle prod making me do sit ups. But that's good. It's so good to be pregnant. Even though my parents might have been right about rat-face over there, I'm glad I did it all. And I don't even think about Dustin--I mean, Justin--anymore or how he's always on the TV with that old hag of his. Seriously. I don't. And I'll think about him even less once I get Morgan to stop TiVoing all those VH1 specials. So there.

Love ya'll,
Britney