I can’t tell you how many times I’ve completely forgotten something that’s happened over the past four years and had to consult my blog archives. Having a blog is the perfect antidote to early-onset memory loss. The problem is, I then start to believe my own ravings and I forget my “coloring” of life events. I enjoyed Neil Kramer’s year-end recap on his popular blog Citizen of the Month. He reviewed his emotional progression through 2008 which he found to be a very difficult year and included posts he felt best reflected where he was at as the year progressed.
I thought I’d dip into my own archives to get a birds-eye view of what was on my mind this year, including links to a sample post for each month. Yes, this is an exercise in total narcissism but so is every aspect of blogging. So what was I doing in 2008?
Dished some fifty-year-old celebrity dirt, debated the anti-Hillary crowd, kvetched about out-of-control cell phone usage, grieved the loss of Suzanne Pleshette, Bill Idelson, Lois Nettleton, and Heath Ledger, shielded my eyes during some gruesome horror films, and started my yearly obsession with the Oscars.
Said good-bye to First Daughter Margaret Truman, defended actress Thelma Ritter, interviewed a blogger from Argentina and got interviewed by one from Alaska, was bored silly by the Oscar telecast, and begged Natalie Cole to throw me a cupcake on the red carpet.
Headed east to Manhattan, went nuts on Broadway, avoided Hillary Clinton’s Secret Service guards at "Saturday Night Live," made contact with one of my favorite hotties from Tudor England, paid homage to the new 50-year-olds (from Alec Baldwin to Eve Plumb to Viggo Mortensen), and condemned Barack Obama’s ugliest vice.
Came clean about my brief stint as a truck smuggler in Germany, spent time with a pre-60 Minutes Mike Wallace, spewed religious venom at the motherfucker who stole my computer, and watched my daughter become a woman.
Paid a visit to a crazy Technicolor maven, revealed my mother’s private papers, became physically ill from George W. Bush’s stupidity, responded to the sad news about Ted Kennedy, and said good-bye to TV icons Dick Martin, Earle Hagen, and Harvey Korman,
Trashed the new “Sex and the City,” ordered a white hood for Brigitte Bardot, overdosed on political mudslinging, jumped for joy at the decision in California to legalize gay marriage (if only we’d known), contemplated family secrets, honored the Chairman of the Board, and mourned the loss of Cyd Charisse and George Carlin.
Paid homage to Bozo and Jesus Christ, gloated about the effect I was having on Barack Obama’s campaign, sent out a cry for help regarding my wife’s transformation into Bette Davis, predicted the death of the Batman franchise, fretted about American teens, and revealed my sister’s role in the Apollo space program.
Headed to Chicago for rock concerts and fun, bid adieu to Evelyn Keyes, went to summer camp, regressed to infancy, tried to extricate family secrets from a new stash of memorabilia, attended the resurrection of a former president, and welcomed Joe Biden and Sarah Palin to the party.
Put the presidents’ wives on trial, spent my 49th birthday with a corrupt politician, revisited the worst experiences of my life, took a two-part course in feminism, thought about white privilege, asked gays what the hell they were doing in the Republican Party, returned to Chicago to attend synagogue, and reluctantly said good-bye to the amazing Paul Newman,
Burned out on the presidential campaign, stalked a cemetery, visited a tenement, spent Yom Kippur with my new spiritual leader, admired Neil Young, embarrassed myself in front of Norah Jones, started to worry about Proposition 8, and welcomed the Colbert Report debut of my newest family member, Joffrey Velvet.
Declared my support for William Howard Taft, thanked the Good Lord Above for Obama’s victory, marked the anniversaries of Kristallnacht and the JFK assassination, helped our house come out of the closet as a lesbian, crashed another celebrity funeral, started going to the movies with wild abandon, and considered plucking my own turkey.
Spewed some anti-holiday diatribes, lusted after Rita Moreno, had a schizophrenic episode involving Van Johnson, solved the economic crisis (in Yiddish), kvelled over my nephew’s debut at Madison Square Garden, exposed Santa Claus as a dangerous carcinogen, enrolled Eartha Kitt in the Witness Protection Program, sent some birthday lovin’ to my daughter, and advised Jennifer Aniston on her troubled career.
And there you have it—all neatly summarized for any future hearings on my mental competency.
I thank all of you who have stopped by over the past 12 months and wish you all an exciting and financially secure 2009! I have a feeling that great things are in store for all of us in the coming year.