Sheila O’Malley is ruining my life. She keeps coming into town and visiting me, and changing me completely, and then thinking it’s okay for her to just scamper back to her home in New York and live her life. She thinks that it’s okay for her to weave her magic in Chicago and spread her fairy dust wherever she sees fit. Sheila is careless with her fairy dust. I’m just saying.

It’s amazing having her here. Amazing. And I’m pissed about it.

Here she comes, all cool and everything, making me contemplate stuff, and then leaving me here to wallow in my own filth obsessing about her theories on politics, hubris, entertainment, Cary Grant, coffee, relationships, death, men, shopping, make-up and God. She thinks she can fill my bell-like head with miraculous insights, make me think, (which hurts, quite frankly) and then gallop back to NYC like Mary Poppins on a monorail.

And then there was the Scientology conversation at 1 in the morning that including TomKat, Jenna Elfman, and Xenu. I can't even begin to go into it. Suffice to say, the laughter happened so quickly and so acutely, that I firmly believe something medical may have happened to me.

Sheila. With her fabulous skin, brilliant brain and fabulous new clogs.

She’s got some nerve.

She arrived on Friday night, and the Porch Talk hasn’t stopped. She’s not only lighting my brain on fire, but she’s lighting matches in Chrisanne’s as well. Last night they had a 3 hour conversation on Foreign Policy. What does she think? I’M supposed to pick up this conversation where she LEFT OFF?? Is she nuts?

Sheila O’Malley. Who exactly does she think she is?

Actually, Mitchell Fain (my adopted brother) introduced us, so I really should blame all of this on him. Without Mitchell there would hav been no Sheila. Mitchell Fain. That’s right, Mitchell Fain.

Mayhaps it's Mitchell Fain that is ruining my life.