Wednesday, March 21, 2007

strong enough for a man, made for a woman

Have you heard of The Secret? Me neither, and I am the last chump on earth to not know about this crap. It's apparently some sort of world-wide phenomenon, if by "world-wide phenomenon" one means "recently n heavily pimped by Harpo Industries." It's also the biggest Fun with a capital F to take over the Pyggy household since Luche Libre masks.

I finally read the whole thing at Costco last weekend, it's about the size and shape of one of those "100 Great Things About being a Grandma!" or "50 Sisters Talk About Friendship" mini-books you can buy at Hallmark for stocking stuffers for people you hate, and within 20 seconds both finished reading it cover-to-cover, and determined it was terrifically mistitled. I have a lot of alternate titles in mind, I'll leave them to the collective imagination of the Interhive.

Thus far, after some serious discussions on the topic, the N. has decided all he really wants is vintage AirPump Reeboks. The Secret has insisted he visualize himself in Pump Reeboks, so he goes around fake-inflating the tongues of his Adidas which is not annoying at all.

I have wished hardcore for dishes to be done, so far, with only some luck. Until the dog starts doing housework, I consider The Secret a failure. But I'm willing to keep trying.

Basically, everything in our lives has been handed over to the power of The Secret, while we've decided to watch Futurama episodes on repeat and eat Jello snack packs without spoons.

The Secret also let me know I don't have to diet, which is a relief, even though I wasn't planning on dieting anytime soon because dieting is for (food) quitters. I just need to expunge all thoughts of FEELING like I need to diet in the first place, and then all my 300 pounds of excess flab will simply fall off. It also suggested I post photos of myself at my ideal weight around the house. Related, the N has decided he wants me to have giant comicals breasts, just for the giggle factor, and has begun Project Secret Boobs: posting photos of me with my head photoshopped onto Jordan's body around the house. According to the Secret, if he believes hard enough, I will have triple E's, and this will make him laugh.

My favorite Secret: Hal Sparks girlfriend wished to find true love and the universe came back with an answer - Hal Sparks. (Also, if Hal Sparks gave her the book, that leads me to believe they were already in a relationship of some sort, so I'm totally confused on how this book helped this poor girl land... Hal Sparks.)

Also, tv show!

Thus ends my glorious non-review of The Secret. Go pick up a copy today.

* * *


- - - -

The G: Wanna hear the two most frightening words in the English language?

k: Go.

The G: "rhinestone accents."

- - - -

k: so...i caught a larry king interview w/ heather mills while i was at the gym last night... does every shot of her dancing HAVE to zoom in on her leg. it freaks me out. and yes, i do realize that this makes me a bad person. and then she started talking about a move next week that they're going to do...and the leg might just come off.

The G: oh good lord. who cares if her leg falls off?

k: why would you do this to yourself?

The G: i am so UNCONCERNED about this

k: it's like an SNL skit waiting to happen

The G: please read the first entry, it encapsulates my feelings exactly

k: it's like her PR people realized that the divorce is almost finalized and then after that...there was no way to keep her in the spotlight

The G: i seriously know nothing about her. and kind of dont care at all. im so tired of celebrities. My new thing is instead of even thinking about tmz or perez hilton? i'm just reading about weird deaths and true crime storys online. Way more interesting.

god. i am sick

k: ha. ew?


the Nabob said...

I don't think it's fair that you didn't post the photoshopped pictures of your face on Jordan's body that I made for you.

Heather said...

I have two otherwise very intelligent friends who've gotten wrapped up in the secret. one of them sent me an email the other day about the secret and her goals and whatever the fuck, and the way it reads I really have no idea how my spam filter didn't catch it. I'm going to have to stage an intervention for this shit before I'm watching them all drink kool-aid in texas compound.

what's so wrong with being goalless and unproductive anyway? it's always worked for me.