Hey Sabres – please stay in the playoffs long enough for me to get myself to Party in the Plaza at some point. Thanks.

I love Lady Gaga. Weird.

I hate anagrams. Really.

So today was designated “Clean Out My Life Day.” I threw out mix CD’s from ex-boyfriends. Filled a wastebasket with uncompleted to-do lists. Found some stinky t-shirts jammed behind furniture. I even gathered a smashed up bunch of receipts and organized them according to the date.

I dumped out my bathroom drawer. Threw out about 60 crusty mascara tubes (why do I hold on to those?) and realized I have five (no joke) opened deodorant sticks. I’m afraid I have no explanation for that. Things like that give me the jeepers, makes me think I might have inherited my mom’s obsessive hoarding tendencies. Ugh, yuck, gross. No way.

Truly, (and this crushes my soul to say) when I watch TLC’s Hoarders, I’m not really all that aghast or freaked out. A little, but not a lot. Because my own house could be a serious contender for the show. It’s like one of those things you grow up with your whole life, so it’s just normal to you (like weird Catholic rituals…). Anyway, one day it occurred to me – this is not just messy clutter. This is straight-up loony bin material. But what can you do? Well, I’ll tell you: nothing. Unless it involves a very talented shrink and an even more talented volunteer clean-up crew, nothing. So it goes.

But life is life and after all, we all have a smidge of crazy in us. The lucky ones get a whole bunch. And the very luckiest possess a bright madness that shows them the prettiest sides of the universe.