Wah hoo hey, I’m combing my hair today/It's our tradition to control, like Erich Honecker and Helmut Kohl…

The Wiggles are in town today for two shows. I drove by the arena this morning (it IS on the way to work - it IS! I swear!) hoping for a glimpse of any one of them (although Anthony is the preferred one). Alas, they were not strolling down to the 7-11 for coffee, or to the mini-mart for Krispy Kremes. Damn those Wiggles, and that silly dinosaur they hang around with, too! (My next door neighbor is taking her kids, but I decided against taking the boys. Let’s face it, Jude’s two, he wouldn’t even remember it. And no idea how much tix are, but if they even approach twenty bucks – and I am sure they do - no point. And I would have had to take the day off.)

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This, then this.

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I bought Jonathan Harr’s A Civil Action Wednesday and started reading it last night. I almost always have two books going at once and at this point in my pregnancy, it’s almost required because I can’t go trucking upstairs to retrieve a book to read. So one on each floor is useful : ) At any rate, it’s a nonfiction book about an environmental law case involving children with leukemia and big bad industry. It was made into a movie starring John Travolta, and featuring an excellent cast (2 years before “Erin Brockovich” made such a splash with the environment/lawyer theme). The book is good. It reads like fiction – kind of the way World War 3.0 and In Cold Blood read – fast-paced, good character development, driving plot, but then you realize it’s all true. Which makes it even more interesting. I can’t quite see Travolta as Jan Schlictmann, but I could probably get past that.

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Tootsie Rolls are the new crack. (Or the new black....whatever.)

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From Salon.com’s The Fix: Coldplay singer Chris Martin, whose wife Gwyneth Paltrow once dated Brad Pitt, on trying to be cool: "Being voted the world's sexiest vegetarian is about as cool as it gets. It's not quite as cool as Brad Pitt, but it'll do. Those have been the two biggest challenges of my life: trying to follow Radiohead, and trying to follow Brad Pitt."
Oh honey, you can’t even approach Thom Yorke, even if you are married to Gwyneth and named your child Apple, so just give it up now. (That last sentence reminds me disturbingly of Hedwig. Which I have been listening to in my car obsessively for the past week. Come on, Sugar Daddy, bring it home!