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I am enjoying the two-hour E! True Hollywood Story special on Dirty Dancing...pretty much to the capacity that one can enjoy anything. I thought I would have this feeling last night, when E! premiered the Sixteen Candles True Hollywood Story. (It's '80s week on E!, in case you can't tell.) I thought of the day as a national holiday and watched the clock until 8 p.m. I mean, Sixteen Candles! That movie is the shit. It is just it.

Amy Lester, what are you all about? they ask.

I am all about Sixteen Candles, I answer. Because it's true.

I am all about Farmer Ted sitting on the counter, listening to Frank Sinatra, drinking a martini, crossing one leg over the other and offering the delicious Jake Ryan a bowl of snacks.

"Pretzel?" Farmer Ted invites, and I am home. That movie is for me.

So here come the True Hollywood Story and here comes a special TV snack of Market Day hot pretzels baked in the oven and here comes...a big fat disappointment of a show. About 20 minutes was devoted to the masterpiece that is Sixteen Candles, then it became obsessed with Molly Ringwald and Anthony Michael Hall and the Brat Pack in general. Which is all fine and good. They have their place in my TV lineup. Just not on the day that I'M SUPPOSED TO BE TREATED TO AN HOUR OF SIXTEEN CANDLES ANECDOTES.

Whatever. The pretzels were good.

"The demons that come out of your insides are devestating."
-Patrick Swayze, 6/11/01, 9:31 PM

Andy and I have been all garden-friendly for the past week. We took down 3 trees (with help from my fine nephew Danny), pulled weeds, shoveled away a bunch of old mulch, edged and weed wacked, and pulled out a bunch of useless herb bush things from our back yard. Now we need to plant some stuff, but I'm flummoxed. If you are into gardening and want to give me some suggestions, please visit this page. Keep in mind that we are a poor and simple people, and don't want to deal with annuals, as that will involve planing new stuff every year and I think that pressure could give me some type of sunstroke. My mom has a buncha hostas, day lilies and Sweet Williams (that she keeps referring to as "Prince Williams") that she wants to give us, but I don't know what to put where.

Lordy, that was probably the most boring paragraph I've ever written in this journal. And you read it! Bless you. You are good to me.

Here are some action photos of Baxter, as promised (threatened?) in the previous entry.

	As Andy cut down branches, Baxter would steal them away and either frolic around, teeth clenched around his treasure, or...
...he would snack on them greedily. Sometimes, one of us would idly ask, "Should he be doing that?" and then we would go on cutting branches.
	"Oh God, I just love this branch. No, you can't have it. It's delicious!!"
This is our back yard, by the way. Yeeeee-haw!! Baxter is thinking, "I'd like to get into that corn and perhaps snack on some of its goodness."
	This is a neighbor dog who is so nice and soft and fluffy. All he wants is for Baxter to be his friend. Look at him, gazing longingly at Baxter the Indifferent. Sometimes they have pissing contests on that fence, which is enjoyable for all.

I'm weaning myself off the pithy endings.

It's hard. It's hard to be me. The crosses I bear! And all for you.

Please don't think of that dirty Janet Jackson song.