|"Paige, what's that lovely scent wafting from the kitchen? Ahh, yes. I thought it smelled like a budget."|
Things ran on a pretty even keel at this weekend. Nothing blew up, I put on a real shirt with buttons, and Husband watched the kids while I went to the grocery store by myself.
Never fear, just because the Kellermans didn't experience anything tragically comic this weekend, doesn't mean I have nothing to share with you today. Actually, I'm taking this opportunity to announce that my super sweet friend, Ilana from the blog Mommy Shorts, got her own TV show.
And you're all like, "Hold on, Paige. I need to insert some applause up in here."
*This space reserved for blog author to get up and get coffee while her Readers are cheering various announcements, good news, or hoopla of import*
So Ilana says to me, she says, "Paige, who would you interview, if you could interview a celebrity your living room, like I do?"
I put down my newest cracked coffee mug and answered calmly, "Why, Gwyneth Paltrow, of course."
"And, if you were to somehow get Gwyneth to come over, how would that go?"
Now, Ilana gets to interview people like Taye Diggs or Rachel Dratch, but, feeling confident that Mrs. Paltrow/Martin would see my crumbling Honda Odyssey and be impressed enough to come back to my living room with the hole in the wall, I answer...
"My dear, Ilana, I have a special script for Gwyneth I keep for rainy days when she accidentally finds my house."
"That's convenient. I'd love to hear it. And also, this post has a lot of dialogue."
I nod. "I confess, it's about to have more."
Dreams Painted In the Key of Arugula
(Infrequent shower taker, Paige Kellerman interviews life expert and killer ab haver, Gwyneth Paltrow)
Me: So, Gwen. Do you care if I call you Gwen?
Gwyneth: It's whatever. Do you have any tea?
Me: I do. Is Sleepytime ok?
Gwen: If it's organic.
Me: Well, I did pick the box up off the street, after I saw it fall off the roof of a Prius.
Gwen: Is this interview going to take long? I'm meeting my trainer at two o'clock.
Me: Exercise is so great. If we run late, you could always tell the trainer you're busy and come help me rearrange the furniture.
Gwen: Why would I do that?
Me: Because the kids are three and under, and they never lift when I shout, "Lift." The baby just stands there like he has no idea what I'm talking about.
Gwen: I thought we'd be talking about fashion or how to make drinking straws out of celery.
Me: I'm glad you're keeping me on track. Ok, in your expert opinion, how far into winter can I wear these extra large, orange, nylon drawstring shorts?
Me: Should I have bought them in black?
Me: Ugh, I'm such an idiot. I forgot to add I'd be pairing the shorts with tennis shoes and a sweatshirt one size too small.
Gwen: Someone lets you raise children?
Me: Luckily, no one got to vote on it beforehand.
Gwen: Where are your children anyway?
Me: I sent them back with your driver. I do hope you understand. I really needed a break, and I'm sure they're only taking apart your house a little bit. Besides, I caught you looking at that stain on the couch with a look in your eye that said, "I want one of those."
Gwen: I have to go.
Me: Take care. And please send the children back around six.
....Make it seven. Seven is bedtime.
Ok, everyone, now get thee hence and watch Ilana's new show. The children are too quiet, and that means something tradgically comic is brewing.
Until Next Time, Readers!