Fell asleep on the sofa, right after watching excellent Iraq documentary by Charles Ferguson, “No End in Sight” (which self thinks she might try showing to her students next week, if she feels their minds sufficiently ready to receive her “wisdom” — which they weren’t this week, but never mind). As always happens when self falls asleep on the sofa, she awakens with a terrible (and she does mean terrible) crick in her neck.
And where was hubby in all of this? Well, at last sighting, he was excitedly chatting on his webcam with mystery friend “Rommel,” who from what self could gather from a brief peek over hubby’s shoulder, is a twenty-something pinoy with a rather “hip-hop” look — long shoulder-length hair, beanie, etc. And this morning, when self awoke blearily from the sofa (in scene reminiscent of Naomi Watts awakening blearily in Toby Jones’ house after night of watching Toby’s Chinese mistress do the Dance of the Seven Veils, or something similar, in movie “The Painted Veil”), she rubbed her eyes and ascertained that those snores shaking the house rafters were emanating from the bedroom.
Anyhoo, self struggles valiantly toward laptop (green light blinking merrily away, like a siren calling “Yoo-Hoo! Yoo-Hoo! Yoo-Hoo!”) and manages to turn it on (fighting down extreme nausea, which always happens when self has a crick in her neck), and there finds very sad tale of Heath Ledger’s funeral in Perth. There is Michelle Williams, looking cute in white and black sundress and very short, blonde hair. Model named Gemma Ward, billed as “one of Ledger’s former girlfriends” (a category that seems to be quite elastic) is there in all black. Cate Blanchett delivered an eulogy, as did several other actors and directors.
Then, self lands on her blog (after going the whole round of her various e-mail accounts, which this morning takes an exceedingly long time as: a. Self is nauseous, as she has repeatedly reminded dear blog reader; and b. There are many, many messages, from all over the world — Virginia, Tel Aviv, San Francisco, San Jose — and finds that people are actually reading her previous post about begging hubby to bring talangka and bagoong back from the Philippines for her, and self finds that she can link to a site about talangka in a jiffy, but all the links she examines for bagoong show awful, brick-colored paste that is nothing like the bagoong self truly knows and loves, and she’s just going to have to search extra-hard this morning, until she finds that one perfect rendition.
Stay tuned, dear blog readers, stay tuned.