It's Can't Get Much Worse

If you need me, I'll be in bed today. Covers will be pulled tightly over my noggin, I'm not even going to peak out. Very early on, my day was ruined. Yes I know it's barely 9 am, but yes my day is shot to hell. (And it's getting worse by the minute)

I'll start by explaining the worst of it. (yes, it's a juvenile worst of it..but dammit it still hurts) It all starts with these lyrics.



Did her green eyes seduce you and make you get so weak?
Was there fire engine red that she left upon your cheek?
It's such a shame you had to break the heart
You could have counted on but the last thing you need is another
...Episode of blonde

Elvis, you really don't need another episode of blonde. You really didn't need to announce you plan to marry "That Woman." I really can't mention her name, it makes me want to violently wretch.

You also didn't need to tell us how you met, and in a subtle way (cos we could really see how nervous you were when Letterman asked the question of how the two of you met) tell us that you cheated on your wife Cait. (They divorced late last year btw)

That's nothing new to the world at large. Everyone knows Elvis Costello shags "anything in a skirt, anything wearing a necklace" (Dammit where's the Shag Elvis Queue, I want to be in front. C'mon Brighid get in line!) I just didn't want to think about it. I was kinda comfortable with his marriage to Cait O'Riordan. Cait was invisible enough that you could almost forget about her. You can't forget about "Krallomort." She's in your face everywhere.

So with that news at 12:30 last night, I went to bed feeling oddly disappointed with the new day. I can ignore things though. I'll ignore Krallomort. I plan on ignoring "North" too for the time being. It's entirely too many emotional moments that I don't wish to listen to. (And still far from being a good Costello record too) Things will get less disgusting. I hope.

I was wrong. I turned on the telly this morning. Do you want to know what I saw there? Do you really?

Paul McCartney and his wife Heather. (feel free to add any descriptive words about his missus) I can think of a few, but they aren't very nice, so I won't share them.

Really, what's next? A phone call from Marie Hayward? (My imagination's working overtime today) I can't imagine how that woman could creep into my day to ruin it any further, but c'mon Marie, it's your turn to bat.

Hit me with your best shot....If you can find me underneath all these blankets.