Wednesday, March 12, 2008

SATC: Episodes 1-3

Every 2 years or so, I seem to revisit Sex and the City. At least some of the episodes. On DVD. Don't do the syndication thing. I do it to glean different things as I get older. Lame, right? But seriously, for some reason I appreciate it on different levels during every biannual semi-marathon because of the wisdom age brings. Yeah, yeah. I just sounded completely gay. One of my few definitive "chick" things. So why not rewatch the episodes before the movie comes out? And this time, I'm gonna watch all of them.  

I just stubbed my toe and its throbbing in pain. And typing on my laptop in bed. It's so Carrie! No, I'm just kidding (about the last part).

I cannot understand how this show is 10 years old. I grow nostalgic for the time when you could smoke in public places and decide to break my personal rules and have one in my bed. Because I'm so Carrie Bradshaw! The job description "website creator" is mentioned in the same breath as "publishing executive" and some other stuff. The dial-up world was sooooo cute, wasn't it? I realize I celebrated my 30th birthday at Lucky Cheng's last year. My toe is throbbing. I wonder why they never brought back Kurt Harrington, who Carrie sleeps with "like a man" even though he screwed her over at ages 26, 29 and 31. Because in actuality, you bump into those a lot. I still don't get Charlotte and I still absoeffinglutely love Big. And my toe is still throbbing.

Models & Mortals
Did Carrie have more straight male friends when this show began? Oh wow, I forgot how large the cell phone was in 1998. "I believe there is curse put on the head of anybody who tries to fix up their friends." Amen, Carrie, Amen. The underwear model Stanford manages has odd jettisoning shoulder bones. My toe is still throbbing. I am wondering why I still live in Boston when NYC is so damn close. Not because I think this show is a realistic depiction, but because I like it better. "I thought I had come to terms with my looks when I turned 30...", uh oh, this changes? (SEE? Gleaning new things here, gleaning new things.)

Bay of Married Pigs
This episode begins with Carrie going to the Hamptons and carrying one of those atrocious Vera Bradley bag. I am now wondering if this is what made those dreadful things so popular. Vera Bradley bags are some of the most terrible things ever constructed of fabric. My toe may have stopped throbbing. Do I fear married people? Do they fear me? Do I think I'm the "marrying kind"? Have I ever been on a surprise fix-up? No. I would like to think my friends know better. The "marrying guy" is dreadful and reminding me of some really bad dates. If a guy busted out a baby mobile in front of me, I don't even know if I could be polite. Should I wear more dresses? Oh wow, the "angry wife" who retrieves her broker husband from Samantha is totally the chick who plays Stabler's baby factory on L&O: SVU. My head is spinning from this contemplation!

If you were an Emperor's Club girl, what would your profile say?

Today's Gawker posted a blurred out profile for "Kristen" , who may or may not be the high-priced call girl who made some decent coin off NY Governor Eliot Spitzer.

Personally, I really don't care what politicians do in the bedroom. Or, for that matter, even in the Oval Office — unless it has to do with national and foreign policy. I don't think he should be forced to resign, even if he did go after several large prostitution rings on his way to the top. (I'm sure the dens of prostitution he went after featured sub-par employees who have been to say, Daytona Beach and not every "far-flung island in the world".) I don't even think prostitution should be illegal. Plus, I could get all philosophical here and say we're all a bunch of whores at some point in our lives when it comes down to it.

As a writer, I wonder who does the content and copy for these sites. Who writes the descriptions? I do like the vagueness attached to the final word of the description — refinements.

In the words of Jack White, you can't be a pimp and a prostitute too. So I'm gonna opt for being a pimp. At least for now. Because I am a pimp. However, I did feel the need to break up my morning grind by writing my OWN Emperor's Club profile. Just because it seems like a fun thing to do.

(NOTE: I didn't think swimsuit models were allowed to be 5'5". But the term "swimsuit model" is one of those very broad terms, much like "event coordinator" when used in the bio of any reality TV show chick who makes a complete asshat of themselves while trying to gain the affections of a single man with a seemingly big bank account.)

Daily Slag, Boston
Daily Slag
Daily Slag's career as an esteemed journalist and copywriter has led her on extraordinary adventures on several continents. She has tiptoed through the world's most reknowned wine-making regions without stumbling from intoxication and interviewed some of the entertainment world's most exciting filmmakers. But the DS is truly a renassiance woman, as she is just as likely to be found crudly bashing Tom Brady, warbling Blondie's One Way Or Another with adorable tone deafness at a karaoke dive bar and explaining the importance of the former Yugoslavia in regards to the future of EU economic development. And all on the same night. While she enjoys the artistry of the fashion industry and owns several dresses, she prefers dressing casually, in snug-fitting jeans and tank tops that proudly show off her best assets. But don't let her laid-back nature fool you, as she definitely enjoys big refinements.
Brown hair
Green eyes
27 years old

(NOTE: So I shaved a few years off my age. Whatever. It's not like I couldn't pass for 27.)

Thursday, March 06, 2008

Fun with Haiku (and American Idol)

Actually, if you want to get technical, I think I actually wrote senyru, which is a humorous satrical form of haiku (there is no mention of snow or leaves or transendental ponds).

I'm not going to even get into how all of this began, because I hate myself for watching such manipulative tripe (I blame the writer's strike). In any case, my weekly "commentary" evolved into haiku during the last round of ladies' semifinals.

(Note: I'm totally not racist, but sometimes that one dirty Japanese word is just fun to bust out on occasion. And I have no right making fun of anyone who can sing, as I am pretty much tone deaf)

#1 Asia'h
Asia'h, I don't like those pants

Or Whitney Houston
Remember "Crack is so whack!"

#2 Kady
Oh Kady, so very cute

I'm sad you will leave
I hardly knew thee

#3 Amanda
I want to drink beer with you

And clink our glasses
Before starting a bar brawl

#4 Carly
I think I like you Carly

But I am not sure
Just pour me a tall Guinness

#5 Kristy Lee
Oh, Kristy, I don't like you

Its not jealousy
It's just that you are boring

#6 Ramiele
Tiny Asian going home

Will find fame one day
There is always bukkake

#7 Brooke
When you sing, I see tofu

Though you might eat meat
But I bet you shop Whole Foods

#8 Syesha
Syesha, don't let me down

I know you are fun
Don't go and get all boring

He's Like The Wind

For some reason, I'm really sad to hear that Patrick Swayze has been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. I've never found him sexy, or one of the best actors ever to grace the screen, but it's Patrick Swayze. You kind of just gotta like a little Swayze now and again.

Before the news was made public, Best Week Ever posted this great entry detailing Swayze's Top 20 Ridiculous Faces made in Ghost. Wow. Talk about scary timing (quantum physics?). After hearing the sad news about Swayze's condition, they also added the Top 5 Most Hansomest, Well-Acted Faces of Patrick Swayze in Ghost.

Personally, I think Swayze would get a kick out of the first entry. He's always appeared to be one who can make fun of himself. You have to be able to make fun of yourself, really, if you were in both Roadhouse (Doubly-sad, as Jeff Healey died of cancer earlier this week) and Point Break. You can't really take yourself seriously in a) a movie about a Phd-in-philosophy-bouncer-in-a-very-backwoods-Missouri-town-which-also-has-a-really-hot-blond-chick-doctor and b) any movie co-starring both Keanu Reeves and Gary Busey. Plus, when Swazye hosted SNL, he had no problem lampooning his "hunk" reputation in two of the show's greatest skits (Hanz & Franz and the oft-viewed Swayze vs. Farley Chippendale's Audition). Granted, Black Dog was definitely a career low, but we all have to pay our bills, and straight-to-DVD movies — especially ones involving driving semis, Randy Travis, an ominous black canine and "nail-biting" moments at a weigh station are probably a decent way to earn an easy paycheck. And hey, a couple years later, he had a great bit part in Donnie Darko.

When you think about it, Swayze is kind of an American treasure. Christ, he fought all those commies in Red Dawn? Wolverines, bitch, wolverines!!

I hope Swayze puts cancer in the corner.

Tuesday, February 26, 2008

Bill Clinton dons appropriate "ethnic" clothing, too

Ok Hilary. Stop acting like a desperate woman...Your husband wears appropriate dress when the occasion calls for it, too. There's nothing wrong with being respectful of another culture.

Sunday, February 24, 2008

Most Amazing Song

While I am usually always disappointed with the Oscars, tonight hasn't been that bad. And Falling Slowly from Once won for Best Song!! It's the most beautiful, hopeful, heartbreaking, et al song and film. And thank you, Jon Stewart, for being effing classy. You brought Marketa Irglova back on to finish her speech. And she was lovely. I want to go curl up on my bed and listen to the Once soundtrack. And drown in sweet hopeful musical misery.

But dead people parade, that's all you give Heath? Come on!

Wonder how the picked the soldiers to announce the short film award. Had to have been some sort of competition on base. But do they get the $40K giftbag for presenters and nominees? I be thinking those kids need a relaxing private Caribbean cruise more than Cameron Diaz.

Ok. I stop now.

Wednesday, February 06, 2008

This would have changed my life in high school

Summers during my adolescent years were spent at Riverport Amptheater (I think it is called something more corporate now...the UMB Bank Amptheater?), catching all those outdoor concerts in the cheap lawn seats. I saw a couple Lollapaloozas, Stone Temple Pilots, the Gin Blossoms, Reggae Sunsplash, even Jimmy Buffet (which, incidentally, is the best place for a teenager to find eager willing adults to buy them alcoholic beverages). For awhile I had a crap ID from "Ohio" that worked like a charm. A security guard once apologized to me for carding me while I was walking away with my Bud Light. I was smart. At the American ID Systems on 4th Ave & Grand, I chose Ohio, while others my age chose more "glamorous" states such as California, Hawaii or Florida. The lost their IDs not long after purchasing the "2 for $40" special. I think I had mine for a couple of years.

In any case, I thought back to the days of underage drinking when I saw this special item online. The Booze Bra (aka Wine Rack) can hold up to a full bottle of wine in a handy hydration pack nestled in an unassuming sports bra. It's like a Miracle Bra lined with the interior of a box of Franzia, but smaller — When its full, it even makes your breasts bigger. Had I had a Booze Bra in high school, perhaps I would have had more dates. Although I have always been a fast drinker, so the gig would have been up fairly soon after I arrived to the

Tuesday, February 05, 2008

Someone stop this man

First off, the only good thing about being on a cruise with John Mayer would be the possibility that he might go overboard. But having to see John Mayer in Borat-style swimwear is more than I can take. Was this an attempt at being ironic or witty, or showing off his ability to poke fun at himself? No. It's lame. It's lame like a CBGB's T-shirt from Urban Outfitters, Hilary Clinton breaking down into tears, green & purple colored ketchup, artisan water and any other pathetic stab at irreverence.

Monday, February 04, 2008

I am such a geek 2.0

I want this to be my next road trip. Still some debate on whether it is or is not open to the public, but I may start begging this man by email.

It's lunchtime

Oh, Whole Foods. You're so eco-conscious and all natural and pseudo-European and all that good stuff. And you have such pretty prepared foods, how can one resist picking up a sandwich for lunch while on their way to work? Especially since you're supposed to save money going to a grocery store, even if you're just a tad bit overpriced.

This $7 chicken salad sandwich better be the world's best damn chicken salad sandwich. But I'm already guessing it's not because it was not $5, approximately 9" long, nor does it come on fresh-from-the-oven bread like the I-want-to-make-love-to-it sandwichs from Al's State Street Cafe in downtown Boston.

Part of me hates everything you stand for, Whole Foods. Sometimes, you make me just want to litter and eat Hot Pockets and drink Lil' Hugs and everthing else with artificial flavor and color.

Sunday, February 03, 2008

Oh snap!

Tonight, I will sleep soundly knowing Tom Brady is sobbing like a little bitch!!! (And before you call me a "hater", think before you speak. He choked. I can finally say mean things about Tom Brady and be somewhat justified. And he will be sobbing into a supermodel's breasts so trust me, he doesn't deserve your pity.)

Friday, February 01, 2008

I am such a geek

Because this is the coolest thing I've seen all day. The Dark Knight LEGO!!

Where was my invite??

I'm going to just believe it got lost in the mail because there is no reason I should not have been on the guestlist for Ice-T & CoCo's (charitable) Tupperware party.

Between all the Tupperware and CoCo's rack, the amount of man-made awesomeness could barely be contained in one measly little nightclub. It is so what
Mr. McGuire was envisioning when he told Benjamin Braddock he had just one word for him. Plastics.

Thursday, January 31, 2008

Smurfs are dobro in Hrvatska

Words fail me. This is incredible, yet a wee bit bizarre. Nearly 400 Croatian men, women and children dressed up as Smurfs in the hopes of breaking the world record. But they celebration turned to disappointment when they discovered they had found erroneous information on the Interweb and were still a few Smurfs short. I guess some crazy American college kids are the current title holders, which no doubt came about after some chick in the dorm bought boyshirts at Urban Outfitters with a faded "retro" Papa Smurf on the ass, which subsequently lead to Smurf mania taking over whatever dorm they lived in because of those uber-obscure retro pop culture references only made by the really cool underground hipsters who handle product assortment for Urban Outfitters. And then they decided to dress up as Smurfs because it was a really cool thing to do.

Ok. That's just my theory.

What don't they give world records for these days? But more importantly, I just want to know who decided to organize a bunch of people into a gaggle of live Smurfs. How much Sljivovica did you drink to come up with that idea?

But I did always think Gargamel was Serbian.

The coolest puzzle ever

Well, not really, but someone took one of my Flickr photos and made this little ditty. It's kind of cool, and there are even varying degrees of difficulty.

Wednesday, January 30, 2008

Completely random separated at birth thingey

Was I the only person who has been thinking this? I can't be.

Sunday, January 27, 2008

An observation for Sunday

You know how you know you're in a ghetto Target? The women's department is fronted by maternity wear.

Thursday, January 24, 2008

See? I'm not the only one!

BeehiveHairdresser posted similar thoughts on a possible conspiracy behind Heath Ledger's death in relation to those fun-loving scientologists. There is also the Google translation-to-Spanish-like-playing-a-Beatles-album-backward oddity. Oh, and what about the mysterious masseuse? And if you've happened to catch Jeff Conaway on VH1's Celebrity Rehab, you start wondering about all those people who died young of "possible drug-related" deaths because he, somehow miraculously, continues to exist.

Hey, I'm not accusing anyone, but anything is possible.

Wednesday, January 23, 2008

One of the most offensive items I have ever seen

You're curious, aren't you? Just know you can't go back once you've seen it. Because when I say it's that wrong, I seriously mean, it's just that wrong.

If D.W. Griffith made ashtrays...

Tuesday, January 22, 2008

I'm pitchy

Damnit. I think I'm watching American Idol again. Yet I am not being taken in by any of these sob stories or the subtleties described to me by an anonymous friend who actually places financial wagers on this competition (He is amazingly accurate, too). The show fills me with hatred, which I do not need any more of in my life. It makes me hate dumb blonds even more than usual. I spend most of the time wondering what Simon Cowell's closet looks like. Seriously. Are all those nearly-identical shirts color-coordinated, folded, on hangers? How many does he have? How big is his closet and exactly how is it organized? Are some of the shirts folded and others hanging?

But there is nothing else on, right? Damn writer's strike. Wait, who is this guy...he's not bad looking...not a bad voice...STOP. I'm not getting hooked. Oh, but Paula can see it in her eyes. She wants this guy. Oh, and he's going to Hollywood. Ok. Now this chick, someone tell her she does not sound like Mariah Carey just because she has a huge rack. Why are there so many commercials? How can someone not watch this crap without Tivo? Didn't there used to be people with some sort of talent on here?

I'm merely watching this season to count how many times "I think you're good, but not as good as you think you are" is said by Mr. Cowell. Because this is the second I've watched this tripe this season and I think I have heard it about 5 times.

However, allow me to present my very own American Idol, by way of Deutchland and New Jersey.

Presenting the Mad German:

My thetans are smelling a conspiracy

Ok, ok. Hear me out. I think the Scientologists killed Heath Ledger. They had to do something to get out of the spotlight, right? Look what 9/11 did for Gary Condit!! Set up the supposed accidental death / suicide of an actor NO ONE was expecting to go so soon and boom, Tom Cruise's crazy rants are relegated to page five of the gossip blogs. But why Heath Ledger? Because he was in the "gay cowboy movie?" Or perhaps because Michelle Williams is a far better actress than her former Dawson's Creek co-star ever will be, oh, and since Ms. Holmes did get booted from The Dark Knight, which also stars Ledger as The Joker. Oh, and throw in some sleeping pills, which obviously proves "psych" drugs are bad and kill and should not be abused and will destroy the world, if not just those promising celebrities. So boom. Tom Cruise's anti-Xenu rants are sent temporarily to the back burner and he's the Hollywood version of Gary Condit.

It's really not so implausible, is it?

'Tis a shame, too, because I really liked Heath Ledger. Sometimes, you just get a hankering for a guy with just-past-the-chin hair. But most importantly, he was talented, which was obvious even in one of my favorite guilty pleasures, 10 Things I Hate About You. He brought me to tears in Brokeback Mountain. And as a huge Batman fan, I still cannot wait to see him as The Joker in The Dark Knight. But I guess its a fact of life, really, the talented ones go and we're left seeing unnecessary press on people in MTV pseudo-reality shows and people like
Tom Cruise making $20+ million a picture.

Friday, January 18, 2008

Shocking family confessions

I am suffering from a wicked hangover. Just in case you were wondering. But this is my first entry using my brand new MacBook Pro. And that's really effing cool.

I am now going to watch Celebrity Rehab. Because it will put things in perspective, knowing I'm not in nearly as bad shape as Jeff Conaway.

In other news, I drunk dialed my mother. I typically do this, so don't laugh. I know she loves it. If you know anything about my mother, you know that she's a die-hard Republican in name, yet will not come to terms with her closeted liberalism. I often tell her she raised me to think the way I think and her openness about certain subjects makes it impossible for her to be conservative. Because I'm drunk and filled with piss and vinegar, naturally I bring up politics. Instead of fighting...the most beautiful thing happened. The most beautiful and incredible thing in the history of political parental discourse. I notice she is not as combative to the things I am saying and I realize...I realize she may have begun coming around. She says she would vote for a democrat if they were the best person and she has done this before in the past. My hopes were buoyed when I discovered she does not like Huckabee, and she has better sense than to elect a Mormon. She doesn't like McCain's position on immigration. She will always bash Hilary, and that is fine, but as we've been occasionally discussing politics for the last few months, I have noticed she is completely and totally unable to express her dislike for one man. I continuously point this out, but this time, oh, there is something different in our conversation this time. She's not telling me to shut up or trying to change the subject with as much fervor as she usually does when I bring up such topics. I push a little more and she doesn't want to go there but it is too late to turn back. And it basically went down like this...

"Mom, if the election were held tomorrow, who would you vote for? If you do not answer this, your drunk daughter will not allow you to get off the phone."

"Well, the election isn't being held tomorrow -"

"Just say it, Mom, say it! Say it!"

"I don't know what you want me to admit."


"Fine. I would vote for Obama."

Friday, January 11, 2008

Every Kitchen Needs Butter Boy

Upon writing SEO content in my day job, I stumbled upon a most curious item.

Introducing Butter Boy. Butter Boy is a corn cob butterer, because in this day & age, why should you be expected to actually butter your ear of corn all by yourself. If there are remote controls, there should be corn cob butterers, right?

At first I thought I was just a bit of a sicko. My sense of humor leans towards the perverted or lewid at times. One look at Butter Boy and well...look at him.

But then I read the description of good ol' Butter Boy and that's when I was sold. This was not your average corn cob butterer (But then again, is there such a thing as an average corn cob buttering tool).

Butter Boy makes buttering your corn-on-the-cob fun and easy! Just insert a stick of butter, pop the top, and butter your corn. Put him in the refrigerator in between uses. Take him with you to barbeques, picnics, or just have fun with him when eating at home. The Butter Boy makes kids smile from ear to ear. Made of plastic and dishwasher-safe.

Come on! You know you're thinking the same nasty things I'm thinking, too! Read just a little bit more...have you gotten to the feature stating Butter Boy hugs the corn for easy gliding on of butter?

Hot butterly pleasure can now be yours. For $6 + shipping. Just admit it. You know you want a Butter Boy to call your own.