I'M SENSING THERE'S A TELEVISION SHOW IN OUR FUTURE ***EDITED***

I've received so many comments and emails saying "Hey Spinster Stitcher! Who's this Jeffrey Dean Morgan you keep going on and on about?!"

Please allow me to introduce the future Mr. Spinster Stitcher in all of his hunk-i-tude. Isn't his smile sublime?
Stewey, however, feels that THIS is the better picture of his future special daddy. (JDM'S dog is named Bisou...French for kiss.) (Damnit. I just typed JDM, French, and Kiss all in the same sentence.) (I have to go take a shower now.)

Back to our regularly scheduled programming...

THIS IS THE POST THAT STEWEY WROTE EARLIER TODAY:

My mom can't come to the blog right now. She's frantically searching the Hoosierville Yellow Pages for a "theatrical agent".

(Or at least I think that's what she's doing. I've given up trying to figure this woman out.)

She was sitting at the kitchen table having her brunch (scrambled EggBeaters and whole wheat baguette, thank you very much), when she saw a new show being advertised on the TeeVee. I didn't catch the official name of it, but suffice it to say I heard the words "crazy", "obsessive", and "collections" at the exact moment the old lady jumped up and spilled her cranberry juice cocktail all over the hardwood.

Apparently the folks at one of the discovery/learning-type channels have come up with a new show that will feature various people and their "strange collections". I think one of the young men featured collects vacuum cleaners, and unless my eyes deceived me, there is a woman who collects dolls.

Lots and lots of dolls.

(Really creepy dolls, if you ask me.)

(Now before you send hate mail, please understand that we here at Chez Spinster have absolutely nothing against doll collections per se. As a matter of fact, my mo-ther tells me that she and Aunt Chrissy had a rather extensive collection of Dolls From Around The World, and that it was in perfectly lovely condition before they decided to give Miss Poland a haircut.)

But I regress....

My stupid mo-ther thinks that there is a place for her in the television world, and that it would be fascinating to watch a portly, sweaty, and somewhat deranged spinster careen her way through life...obsessions, exasperated sister, and little dog in tow.

(I, it must be said, am not of the same opinion.)

I would imagine that when my Aunt Chrissy gets home from work tonight, there will be a phone call that will go something like this:

MO-THER: Hi, Aunt Chrissy. How was your day.

AC: Well, I worked on a project and....

MO-THER: OK. Back to me. Have you seen this new show on TLC about crazy people and their obsessional collections?!

AC: No. I work for a living and am not accustomed to sitting around watching television all day.

MO-THER: Well, there's this show, see. And it features people who collect things. And they're not exactly normal things like needlepoint canvases or skeins of Caron Watercolours or cross stitch charts. They're things like vacuum cleaners and really creepy dolls! Can you imagine! Do you know how much fun I would have on a show like that...showing the world how a REAL crazy obsessive collector does things? Oh my gosh, Aunt Chrissy! We're going to be famous! Can't you just imagine it?!!!!!

AC: Put Stewey on the damn phone.

STEWEY: Hello, Aunt Chrissy? This is Stewey.

AC: Hi, Stewey. Do you need me to come over to pick you up?

STEWEY: Yes, please, Aunt Chrissy. I'll be waiting in the driveway.

And so it goes. Another night with my aunt because my mo-ther has decided to go into one of her "Let's think about this and research it and devise and plan and then go write it down and then review it" kind of modes.

Actually, I'm not really all that upset about this one. The happy side of it is that it's gotten her out of her whole Jeffrey Dean Morgan obsession. THIS is the phone call that happened during the apex of all of THAT JDM pondering...

MO-THER: OK, Aunt Chrissy. I need you to pay careful attention. I'm going to go on the Dr. Phil show, see. I figure that I could be one of his special projects, and in the course of sweeps week, he could point out everything that's wrong with me and then fix it.

AC: Uh-hmm. (Not really paying attention, because she's pretty sure that even Dr. Phil wouldn't touch what's wrong with her stupid sister with a ten foot pole).

MO-THER: Now when the producers call you to get background information and childhood pictures and whatnot, I need you to tell them that I am just nuts for Jeffrey Dean Morgan and that if there's any way they could convince him to come on the show to surprise me for the "big reveal", that would be damn good television.

AC: (sound of crickets chirping, because she's put the phone down and gone to the kitchen to fix dinner)

(Don't worry....she comes back every now and then to see if her stupid sister is still blathering.)

(She is.)

MO-THER: So Dr. Phil fixes all of the stuff that's wrong with me, don't you know, and after some extensive plastic surgery, a wardrobe consultation, and maybe a haircut, he invites me to come out on the stage and show the world how I single-handedly re-invented myself. Then, just as I'm about to tell the world how single-handedlyI re-invented myself, Dr. Phil says "I understand from your sister that you have a thing for Jeffrey Dean Morgan". And I say "Why yes, yes I do, Dr. Phil", and at that very moment, Jeffrey Dean Morgan appears on the stage to thunderous applause. So then Dr. Phil tell me that as a special reward for single-handedly re-inventing myself, I'm going to spend the entire day with Jeffrey Dean Morgan. And then we go off hand in hand and have cheeseburgers and fall in love and he forgets all about What's Her Name and we live happily ever after.

AC: (Who has managed to prepare her dinner, eat it, clean up the kitchen, play with Bosco, and finish a huge reproduction sampler she's been stitching while her stupid sister blathers on). Uh-hm. OK, Aunt CJ. You have a good night now. Is Stewey there?

STEWEY: Hello, Aunt Chrissy? This is Stewey.

AC: Hi, Stewey. Go get the dart gun.

STEWEY: OK, Aunt Chrissy.

AC: I'll be waiting in the driveway.

OK, that's enough of our little Masterpiece Theatre for now. Suffice it to say that I'm headed for my fort under the bed for the duration, and that my silly mo-ther will probably NOT be cleaning the kitchen (like she's supposed to be).

Here's her progress on Aquamarine:
Happy Weekend to all! I hope that wherever you are is exactly where you want to be!

With love from your pal,
Stewey

Oh, and a big fat P.S. I just saw a report about the new feud between Anthony Bourdain and Miss Paula Deen. Now, while I certainly can appreciate her propensity for Southern flair and her ability to accessorize, I'm afraid that I must agree with Mosieur Bourdain about the dangerousness of teaching fat Americans how to slather mayonaise, butter, and cream cheese on their corn. I mean, come on, Miss Paula. Would a salad every now and then actually kill us? Besides, if you don't stop teaching my mo-ther how to deep fry everything and then salt salt salt it to within an inch of its very life, she's NEVER going to lose enough weight to be the internationally famous super model that she aspires to be.