Brad Pitt’s Secret Diary, Eating Sandwiches, and the Inauguration

January 20th, 2009

It’s here, it’s here!

Inauguration Day is finally here!

But do you know what I’m really excited about?

Little girls! Moving into the White House!

There are going to be playdates! And slumber parties! Light As A Feather/Stiff As a Board in the Lincoln Bedroom! It’s going to be SUPERFUN!!!!


The girls’ Secret Service Code Names are Rosebud and Radiance. Could there be anything cuter? (Dad is Renegade and Mom is Renaissance. And soon there might be Rover!)

Here’s a link to my anthropological guide to seven and ten year old girls, which is appearing in today’s issue of the Wall Street Journal, just in case anyone needs freshening up on their little girl facts. Many thanks to YA author and WSJer Lauren Mechling for giving me the chance to fulfill my dream of getting to write for my husband’s favorite newspaper.

Meanwhile, everyone wants to know if, since my mom lives in Annapolis (which is very close to Washington DC), I’ll be at the Inauguration. The answer is no.

First of all, no invite. Second of all, to quote a little boy I once found myself standing next to the one and only time I went to the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade in NYC, “It’s cold out here! Why can’t I be home watching this on TV in my comfy chair?”

Wise words! Also, I’m not going to stand in the cold for hours somewhere so far away from a toilet (to quote Whoopi on The View yesterday). Not even for such a historic moment as this. I value my warmth and proximity to indoor plumbing too much.

I will, however, watch it on TV like a normal person.

There’s been so much cool stuff going on lately besides the Inauguration, I can hardly contain myself. Did you know, for instance, that one of the ferry boat captains who rushed to the rescue of Flight 1549 was a 19 year old woman? It’s true! She’s also the first woman ferry driver EVER in the New York Waterway to pilot her own boat! I could die of joy from this story.

And Friday Night Lights is on regular TV now! Yes! I’ve already seen the whole season including the end on Direct TV (and let me just tell you—THE END IS SO GOOD! They ended it in a way where Coach Taylor is going to kick SO MUCH BUTT next season! It is going to be glorious), and it is SO GOOD. You MUST watch it, because it has everything. If you missed the first episode and need a recap, here is Videogum’s, complete with clips.

Remember, when you’re in a difficult situation, ask yourself: WWCTD? (What Would Coach Taylor Do?) Then you’ll have the right answer (usual answer: Walk Away. Or Give a Speech).

And there’s been so much coverage of the tiara auction, like in USA Weekend, that bids for the tiaras have skyrocketed! There are about a dozen days left in the auction, and things may get down and dirty. So dust off your credit cards! Because this really is a worthy cause (teens! And libraries! And tiaras)!

And be sure to check out Judy Blume’s tiara for the auction:

And then read the hilarious blog she wrote about the making of it. Judy, your tiara is one of the best ones! I love it and everyone at the NYPL event GASPED when they saw it. Austin Scarlett said it has “an almost decadent art nouveau quality to it.” And Austin’s the expert! I think you may have found a new hobby.

But now let’s get serious a moment and look at this picture of Brad Pitt:

I wasn’t going to share this with you, but I found something a long, long time ago, all crumpled up inside a seat pocket on the First Class section of an American Airlines flight I happened to be on, and I think the time has come to share it with the world, especially in light of this picture. I mean, come on, it’s obvious, isn’t it?

We must Free Brad Pitt!

Dear Diary,

Well, we’re back in Malibu, after that whole France thing. I thought I could make a break at the airport, but she’s doubled the security guards around us since the twins came. She says it’s because she doesn’t want the paparazzi getting shots of the babies they haven’t paid for–I mean, “donated money to charity for”—but I know she knows I’m thinking of running. I think Maddox tipped her off.

I knew that little dude was trouble the first time I laid eyes on him, when she sent him around to my trailer on the Mr. and Mrs. Smith set, and he threw that bag over my head, and the next thing I knew, I woke up in A’s bed covered in whipped cream.

She pretends like he’s a kid, but I know the truth: he’s her paid midget ninja assassin.

I just wish he’d lay off with the throwing stars. Those things hurt! My ankles look like raw hamburger meat.

Guess I’ll just have to wait until next time he’s “napping” and see if I can make a break for it.

Wait for me, Jen! I’ll be with you soon, my darling!

B

Dear Diary,

Not good. Jen’s on the cover of this week’s People. Apparently, he’s given her a $500,000 ring. Jen! Why didn’t you wait? I long to be back in your arms, so we can watch Grandma’s Boy for hours on end, “eat sandwiches,” and snack on Doritos like in the good old days.

A. won’t let me have Doritos. She says they aren’t macrobiotic.

And don’t even get her started on Grandma’s Boy or “sandwiches.”

Oops got to run. I hear Maddox sharpening the nunchucks.

B

Dear Diary,

I have to make this quick. She’s letting me take a commercial flight because flying private looks bad with this recession, and all—and Maddox is staying home, because he O.D.’d on Pop Rocks again. Maybe I can make a run for it, and finally see my Jen!

Wait for me, baby! Don’t marry that Your Body Is a Wonderland douche! I can sing, too, you know!

B

That’s where the diary ends. Apparently, the whole commercial airlines thing was a trap, because I found a tiny bloody thumbprint on the last page, covered in Pop Rocks. Then the photo, above, appeared everywhere. Obviously, Brad never made it to Jen’s side.

Poor Brad! I hope Jen will wait for him. Or send the A Team to get him out.

I can imagine you’re probably quite bummed now about the Brad situation. But I won’t let you leave this blog feeling down. Instead, I offer you this cat. What is wrong with him???? I don’t know, I guess he doesn’t play well with others. But I love him anyway:


Oh my gosh. I’ve given myself heart palpitations laughing so hard over that. I have to go watch about 90 hours of Inaugural coverage now to calm myself down.

More later.

Much love,

Meg