The only thing that really matters this week is that an 83 year-old California (duh) woman has gotten breast implants because she “expects to live a little while longer”. I love her so much. She is a shiny beacon (make that two beacons) of awesome and I want to make plans to hang out with her. This sounds like the kind of thing where we’d likely go for drinks, have the best time ever, clink glasses sloppily on our 10th toast of the night and BOOM-LIGHTENING – WE SWITCH BODIES! It’s fine. I’d do it. I want the attitude even more than the new rack. Isn’t she the coolest person that you don’t know? Let me answer that for you. She is.
Speaking of older and/or beyond old ladies (which is really just dead ladies), did you see the Gawker headline? The one that said that “Coco Chanel Colloborated with the Nazis, Sexually and Otherwise” ? OH, YEAHHH!!! Oh, wait a minute. If that’s true, Coco, that’s not cool. I don’t care if you gave us the little black dress. Mainly I don’t care because I don’t wear dresses all that much. But also because I’m not a big Nazi fan, Coco. Okay, this is ridiculous. HelloGiggles is not the venue to discuss Nazis with Coco Chanel’s ghost. Shalom, Coco.
This week definitely had a few bizarre stories. Here’s another one. The director of Human Centipede 3 announced that this 3rd film will be “10,000 percent more medically accurate” than the others. That’s a very high percentage, sir. They can’t even get all 5 dentists to sign off on Trident. I guess we’ll just all have to wait to (not) see the third installment in this horrifying trilogy. You should know, I have not seen the original nor have I seen the 2nd not-allowed-in-The-UK movie. But what I did see is a still photograph of one of the poor guys on the ground, just from his chest up, from the original. He was making a weird face and I noticed that he had a Playboy Bunny tattoo on his shoulder and immediately thought … wow, somebody can’t be buried in a Jewish cemetery. That’s what I got from it, anyway. There might be more going on in the story.
Oh, and here’s something pretty rad that happened to me this week. I got a phone call from an ex and it didn’t matter. It was that call that anyone whose ever been broken up with fantasizes about getting and deserves to get. But we rarely get. She and I hadn’t talked in a few years. When she asked if she could talk to me for a sec, I let her talk. It was all of the things you go over in your head over and over again when the break up is fresh. Things like: “I’ve never gotten over you.” “No one has ever understood me like you.” “Is there any way you would get to know to me again?” “Can I take you out?” “I think about you everyday.” “I’ve been in therapy.” And so on. She cried. She said the stuff you play on loop in your brain and in your heart for the days, weeks, months after a break up, when you script the phone call you’re dying to get but rarely get. So, I got it. And I listened. And I thanked her. And I told her I appreciated the things she said. And that was that. I didn’t need the call that I used to need. I listened to listen. Because I guess I thought I deserved it. It felt neither good nor bad. And that was the cool part-realizing that it didn’t phase me one way or the other. So, what I’m saying is, I got a phone call from an ex and it didn’t matter.