Lonely level of stupid

I've reached a very high level of stupidity. I was late for work this morning because I couldn't find my keys. So I pulled up couch cushions, emptied out my bag, looked under the bed, in the refrigerator (I once left my cell phone in there so it's not as weird as it sounds). Finally I decided to retrace my steps. I went to the front door to pretend like I was walking in again and there they were, still dangling from the front door. I went to sleep last night with my keys hanging out of my front door. And I don't live in an apartment -- I live in a three-family house in Astoria and I am on STREET LEVEL. I could have been killed. After I found my keys I looked in all the closets and under the beds to make sure that whatever killer might have broken in last night wasn't still hiding out and then I went to work.

This level of stupid is pretty lonely. I think I'm the only one up here.

Katherine and I ended our day with an argument over Canadian news anchors working for American broadcast outlets. Apparently Katherine felt betrayed when she found out that Peter Jennings was Canadian. She just found out today that my boyfriend Pat Kiernan is also Canadian. For some reason this really bothers her. Somehow this led to a conversation about Molly Ringwald starring in French movies and then she went home.

In sad news, my Dad's friend Bruno Kirby died. I don't know if they were really friends but they grew up in the same neighborhood. I like almost all the movies he was in -- he was the best part of When Harry Met Sally, by far. I think the only movie that I didn't like that he was in was Sleepers, not because it was a bad movie but because my cousin Barbara went to grammar school with Lorenzo Carcaterra and she said he made the whole story up. Anyway, RIP Bruno.