Barbaro, Molly Ivins, and now ... Anna Nicole Smith?!
OMG. Got home from the gym today and my cell phone rings. It's my partner, who tells me that Anna Nicole Smith collapsed in a casino hotel room and was pronounced dead at a Florida hospital.
For the past hour, I've been watching CNN with my mouth hanging open. I don't even know why. I find my fascination with this story vaguely disturbing. And for some goofy reason, I cannot for the life of me vanquish from my skull a vision: that of me stumbling across the Anna Nicole Show late one night a few years ago. I think she was riding around in a golf cart with an effeminate young man and they were high as kites, slurring and shrieking, and her enormous bosoms were popping out all over. My jaw dropped.
Come to think of it, that's the same expression on my face right now.
The premiere of Survivor: Fiji cannot get here soon enough. I need to obsess about something else.