I was so despondent and freaked last night that I resorted to something really desperate and weird. Okay, so I happen to do that a lot. Sue me. No, I didn't shoot heroin or go drive around Frayser looking for that strange convent in the old stone building covered with ivy and then cruise past the old fabulous ranch houses in Georgian Hills, as I have been prone to do in the past (something about lost youth). And I didn't go down to Martyrs Park on the river and look for the man who feeds leftover fried chicken to the foxes (did that the other night and got attacked by too many post-nuclear-war-sized mosquitoes). I couldn't find Di Anne Price (the singer, for the rubes out there who don't know her) anywhere so I couldn't go bury my head in her bosom — or, worse, sit on her piano bench and try to sing with her, which also happens from time to time and which is not a pretty sight by any stretch of the imagination. It was too late (why, it must have been 8 p.m.) to go to Midtown Video and rent old Alec Baldwin movies. Law & Order: Special Victims Unit was nowhere to be found on television. My Condoleezza Rice dartboard was so full of holes I could barely make out her image, so that wouldn't have been any fun. I flipped to the Biography channel to see if they had hastily put something together on Tim Russert, but they hadn't and even if they had it would have just made things worse (when Tom Brokaw cries, I cry). I wanted to snuggle with one of my cats but she was on the second-story roof next door swatting at birds in the tree limbs (she might weigh four pounds wet, the dangerous beast). One of my other cats, her mother, has gone blind, leaving me with yet another vision-impaired feline that just walks around meowing to the top of her lungs for no reason. I tried to quit smoking by taking some recently prescribed Chantix but I guess it takes more than just one pill to start working. I thought about moving my mattress out of the dining room but there was really no other place to put it. I puttered around the bathroom to take a deep whiff of my new green-tea scented, healthful smoothing shampoo that I had just purchased at Rite Aid for 99 cents but it only reminded me that I'm bald. I thought I would be productive and do laundry so I would have some clean pants, but that only reminded me that I was just at Old Navy and they DO NOT EVEN SELL pants in my waist size. Not at all. It wasn't a fluke or a shortage of stock. They simply don't sell pants that big. I am going to sue them for discrimination. During the same trip to visit "that store" whose name I will never mention again, I actually drove all the way east to the Oak Court Mall, where, within about 60 seconds, I broke out in a cold, clammy sweat and started feeling weak, like I always do when I go there and see the Stepford People buying expensive clothing with designer labels (well, designer labels for Memphis) but I was happy to see that you can now stretch out on a bed in the middle of the mall and in front of all those people and have an acupuncture treatment. I felt like having them stick the little needles in my eyeballs at that point but I was afraid I wouldn't be able to get in my car and drive home — or to Zinnie's — as fast as my car could make it. (By the way, there is no bar and no place to smoke at Oak Court Mall, just so you'll know.) So by that time, I was done. I came home and I moped and boiled a head of cabbage (comfort food) and I started watching Bee Gees videos on YouTube. Yes, the Bee Gees. I hadn't been able to stop thinking about the fact that Fox News (the repugnant national division, not the nice local folks) had actually referred to Michelle Obama as Barack Obama's "baby mama." I know, I know. It's all politics and it was Faux News, and usually I find humor in stupidity like that. But it just made me sad to be a human being and to share the same basic atomic makeup with those people. And then I started thinking about the Bee Gees and how they lost their little brother Andy Gibb and wrote that beautiful song for him and how they have always seemed to be such nice people and I just started watching one video of them after another. I know that I have several friends who will probably throw something wet on me for admitting to liking the Bee Gees, but you know what? It made me feel better about the world. I even forgot about Old Navy.