An Open Letter To The U.S. Government

Dear assholes,

Yeah, you heard me right. I said assholes. Hey, at least I put the "dear" in front. Be content with that, you bag of pustules.

So, we got a nice little bonus for the end of the year and I wanted to see what life would be like if I had a Masters so I looked at my paycheck stub. Now, I usually don't go in for that sort of behavior because I get distracted by the amount removed for my 401K and, against better judgement, I inevitably want that money back. Since it's easier if I just ignore the fact that it's disappearing, I refrain from looking at my paycheck stub. And I forgot there's another good reason to not look - seeing just how much you're getting from me on a bi-monthly basis.

Seriously, you make as much per month as my mortgage company and I'm actually getting something out of them. (A house, you dullards.) You, on the other hand, aren't giving me shit. Oh sure, I'm getting "security" and "the Postal Service", but c'mon, when the president I didn't vote for (which is another issue entirely) basically pisses off entire races in one fell swoop and then just keeps poking at them with pointy sticks, I really don't feel you're engendering a sense of security in me. Call me crazy, but I'm not one of those Midwesterners who believe everything you're telling me. I've watched "The X-Files". I know from conspiracy theories and government cover-ups. As far as that U.S.P.S. you're forcing me to use, sure, the childrens' book stamps were adorable, but half the time it's a trust game and usually those boys in blue fail me. Personally, I think the Pony Express was more reliable, and far more romantic in feeling.

But back to the money you're stealing. You're using it for bombs (hate them); wars (they anger me); the FBI (useless); pistachios for Air Force One (what's wrong with pretzels? Oh yeah...someone might choke); Dick Cheney (don't get me started on that); global warming (yes, Virginia, there is such a thing, you polar bear hater); and my personal favorites, working god back into everything we do and fighting gay marriage. Come the hell on, bastards. There's a reason they separated church and state. It's just best for everyone. Who cares whose name you put in your prayers so long as you're being a good person? Allah is just as kick ass as Jesus and Buddah is totally wicked awesome so honestly, if I like one better than the other and I'm not sending anthrax through the mail, what the hell difference should it make? Speaking of irrelevant, you should stop worrying about whether or not Lance Bass can get married and start worrying about the current state of healthcare, our global credibility, your punk-ass in-fighting, the sorry state of our environmental policy, finishing that needlepoint sampler that reads "people in glass houses shouldn't throw stones" because most of you have obviously forgotten that little bon mot, education, and a little thing I like to call Social Security which is currently neither "social" nor "secure".

Not only that, but you people seriously take more vacation than the French.

In summary, you colossal waste of carbon, you need to actually start working for the fucking money you keep thieving from my bank account or I'll be forced to pull a Willie Nelson. Not the get out-of-my-gourd stoned part, but the no paying the taxes part.

Sincerely,
OAA

I'm A Wallpaper

No longer content to be a wall flower, I've been converted into a wallpaper. Along with fellow darlings like The Wife -Miss Kelly Sue- and my fellow kinderwhore Taylor, we're now available for downloading. Oooh...naughty indeed.

And don't forget! Naughty Needles is available at Amazon!

Wishing You Happy Holidays

Cookin' With Tom
Originally uploaded by Old Aunt Amy.

Tom's got some steaks ready for the big Christmas dinner at the OAA abode. I'll take mine "well done", please, Tommy.










Merry Christmahanukkwanzaka to all of you and to all a good night!

aaawwwwwwwWWWWFREAKOUT!

Well, that's the discoized version of what I did when I discovered this:

New Disgruntled Housewife Datebook

I was thinking I should just give in this year and buy new pages for my DayRunner and then, like a lighthouse guiding me back to cool, it appeared.

Go. Order one. At least you know one part of your year will be fun.

The Completely Mental Misadventures Of Ed Grimley

When I was in high school, I was completely mental over this show. So mental in fact, that this very blog's mooches its title from it. My friend Kasey Crowe (Kasey! Where are you?) and I would watch it, tape it, quote it, LIVE IT every week and for years I thought I was the only one (since Kasey's obviously missing) who remembered and kept a wee votive candle lit for the return of this show. And now, I can relive those days because some genius named "Blastaway" on YouTube has posted ALL the episodes. Oh, Blastaway, were you here I'd reward you with a tuna casserole with lots of paprika, I must say. We'd talk about Pat Sajak and the art of playing the triangle.

So, for those of you that have no idea what I'm talking about, watch 'em. Watch 'em all. See the adventures of Ed and Moby and Count Floyd and LIVE IT with me.

Holiday Howdy

It occurs to me that I have no idea who reads this blog thing. I have a feeling my mom knows the address (hi mom!) and I know Henry reads it daily and there's a few others that I frequently see commenting, but who else is out there?

Do me a solid and comment to me with your name and your dream Christmas present. Who knows...maybe there are just six of you! (A very important, stylish, and classy six, to be sure.)

Donate Your Bone Marrow

How easy is this?

National Bone Marrow Donor Program

No needles, no waiting. Just an easy way to register to help save a life. And at this time of year when we're all spending on our loved ones, a cost of $52 to cover the tissue typing seems rather paltry.

For a full rundown, see this post on Bag Snob.

You Don't Bring Me Flowers

Look Into My Eyes
Originally uploaded by Old Aunt Amy.

I've brought you these roses. They're dying...just like I am for you.

(Scary album cover from Worst Anal Bum Covers.)

We Have Been Forsaken

It pains me that the extravaganza that is the El Vez Christmas Show didn't come to STL this year. Nothing kicks off my holiday season better than a thousand costume changes.

Man Sticks Arm In Dolphin...On Porpoise!

He did it just for the halibut.





Henny Youngman has now left the building.

2007 Wish List

To be added to as opportunities present themselves and in no certain order.

1. For all hipster girls - Cory Kennedy, I'm looking in your direction - to wash their hair and wear less bottom eyeliner. Sure, you've got that whole "I love the thrift store" thing going for you and I suppose most go through that phase, but everytime I see a photo of you lassies I want to Phyto you within an inch of your life. Look how pretty Leigh Lezark looks with her clean and shiny locks! And the bottom eyeliner can work if combined with top eyeliner. I've got high school portraits of me with only the bottom and if I knew then what I know now, I might not cringe each time I see those shots hanging in my parents' house.

2. The swift and sudden snap in which the Bush family, the Hilton sisters, reality TV, the KFed phase, drunken Lindsay Lohan, evil Dick Cheney, the song "Gold Digger" and Jamie Foxx's incessant singing of it, the Iraq fuck-a-thon, Rachel Zoe, TomKat, and all of Scientology just poof from the face of the earth. I think I might actually like reading and hearing the news should that happen. Although nature abhors a vacuum, I'm sure there'd be a good day or so in there. And yes, I'm aware of my grouping of inane, fluffy things with weighty matters, but they've all contributed to my general frustration in the last year and it's probably best if this doesn't turn into an OAA Rants About How Much She Hates The Government blog. There's enough of those out there and I'm trying to limit my use of the F-word knowing that HeyDanEvans' mom-in-law might be reading.

3. A bicycle. Is it so wrong to want a bicycle?

4. A completed first floor of the caboose. This includes painting, bathrooming, box springing, and baseboarding. I just long for the day when the house looks presentable and must, must, must take a more active role in this pursuit.

5. A trip to NYC to visit Lynnie. I miss Lynnie and want to see her for girly fun involving Park Bar, shoe shopping, and brunches.

6. Juh-may-cuh trip. Humphrey misses me. I just know it.

7. All my friends to get married near me. I know this sounds evil and selfish and I'm sincerely really really really happy for all of them because they're all wonderful and astonishingly good people and deserve all the love and joy in the world and I honestly like traveling, but for the past seven years I haven't had one without a wedding out of town. So, let's keep getting married and keep falling in love, but let's do it all within a 100 mile radius of the STL. I'm getting old and lazy and want to save my money to go back to Europe...and what, isn't there enough love in the STL?

8. World peace. Lame answer? Sure. Honest? Yeah.

9. To see "Talladega Nights" so that people will quit asking me if I've seen it and then acting like I'm mentally deranged because I haven't.

My Personal Version Of Hell

Those that know me know that I am really not a fan of musicals. One could go so far as to say I hate them. Now, there are times I like the idea of the musical - Disney movies like "Alice in Wonderland" or "Robin Hood", for example - but the whole "I'm mad and now I'm going to siiiiiiinng about it" element of Broadway fare irks me. So, it is with no surprise that occasionally samples from this loathed genre pop into my head and won't go away. Today is one such day. And here's what's trapped in there:

"It's a Jolly 'olliday with Mary" (or whatev that song's called), "I Feel Pretty", and, wait for it, "Memory" from everyone's favorite feline fiasco.

"Jolly 'olliday" is leading the pack in brain plays. I hate you, Mary Poppins! You and your cockney kiss ass!

OAA's Recipe Corner

I used to work for Monsanto (a.k.a. The Evil Empire). The pay was too good to resist! Plus, I gathered most of my snowglobe collection making deals with employees - I'll submit your expense report if you bring me back a snowglobe. It was a perfect arrangement. Plus, I met some wonderful people there that I've been wildly remiss in calling (Jess & Boo, Aimee & Craig, Stephen, Mikelyn, I'm thinking of you!). So, in tribute to those really fun days of yore ("Take A Letter, Maria", for example), here's a recipe that I literally had to pry out of the cafeteria workers in the AA building. This was a sauce served with their Build-Your-Own-Taco-Salad day extravaganza. 85% of my personally built taco salad was this sauce. Serve it with burritos, nachos, and other foods that end in "O".

Monsanto Secret Sauce (No Animals Were Harmed In The Making Of This Recipe)
1/2 teaspoon of lemon juice
2 cups of mayo
1 cup of sour cream
2 tablespoons of onion salt
1/2 tablespoon of garlic powder
1/2 tablespoon of paprika
2 teaspoons of chili powder
1 teaspoon of Tobasco
1 tablespoon of worsteschesteschire sauce

Oh. Mmmm. It's freakishly good.

She Wants To Lick My Ear

She Wants To Lick My Ear
Originally uploaded by Old Aunt Amy.

Contessa Elenora von Tinypants (that's the dog) was a special guest star at work for a few days this week. She's since been adopted, but I'll be damned if she wasn't the lovin'est dog in the land. So sweet and so licky! She succeeded licking my ear, by the way. I was so focused on getting her to look at the camera, her stealth tongue caught me off guard.

Naughty Needles Almost Here!

Only four more days until the knitting world is turned on its ear! Naughty Needles by the multi-talented, incredibly sweet, eternally huggable Nikol Lohr will be released on December 19th so save some of that present money for a present for yourself. Plus, for all the OAA fans out there that just can't get enough knitwear, here's a glimpse of me and the girl-crush-worthy Taylor on the back cover modeling the super soft knee socks.

Hell, since you're already just dying to know what's inside the book (after all, it's first name is "naughty") why not zip on over to Amazon and add it to your burgeoning box of holiday gifts, but don't mix this up with the Agatha Christie DVDs you ordered for Nana. She might get the wrong idea.

Top 5 Christmas Carols

Christmas Carols

1. "Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas"
Sweet, sad, sappy, and sung by Judy Garland. Her name is "garland", a key component of holiday decorating. It's all so perfect.
2. "Christmastime is Here"
"Lights please."
3. "White Christmas"
I'm not a Bing Crosby fan in the least (I like to call him "Glazed Doughnut"), but I've surmounted that loathing to love this song so it must be good.
4. "Glooooooooooooooooria, in excelsis deo"
I just love that part of that song. I love it so much it's removed all the rest of the song from my mind. I have no idea what the song title is, but the only part is that part.
5. "Deck The Halls"
Not only the Christmas theme song of interior decorators everywhere, but the perkiest chorus. You can't help but belt out "DECK!" when that thing starts.

Honorable Mention
"O Tannenbaum"
Because it's stuck in my head year-round, it's not really counting as a Christmas song, but it's a great melody.

Awww...They're In Love

Awww...They're In Love
Originally uploaded by Old Aunt Amy.

Congratulations to my dear old friend and her lucky, lucky husband. Pixy Stix for EVERYONE!

Sad Songs They Say *sniff* So *whimper* Much (Insert Bawling Here)

In what certainly comes as a surprise to no one, "The Drugs Don't Work" by The Verve has been named the saddest song ever according to a real bona fide doctor.

I've always known this was the saddest song ever as I can't listen to it without crying and I've heard it a million times. It reminds me of when Sam died and I played it for Tyra and the two of us just bawled like little children over the thing. So, just for those who've missed out on this tearfilled gem, here's the lyrics:

All this talk of getting old
It's getting me down my love
Like a cat in a bag, waiting to drown
This time I'm comin' down

And I hope you're thinking of me
As you lay down on your side
Now the drugs don't work
They just make you worse
But I know I'll see your face again

Now the drugs don't work
They just make you worse
But I know I'll see your face again

But I know I'm on a losing streak
'Cause I passed down my old street
And if you wanna show, then just let me know
And I'll sing in your ear again

Now the drugs don't work
They just make you worse
But I know I'll see your face again

'Cause baby, ooh, if heaven calls, I'm coming, too
Just like you said, you leave my life, I'm better off dead

All this talk of getting old
It's getting me down my love
Like a cat in a bag, waiting to drown
This time I'm comin' down

Now the drugs don't work
They just make you worse
But I know I'll see your face again

'Cause baby, ooh, if heaven calls, I'm coming, too
Just like you said, you leave my life, I'm better off dead

But if you wanna show, just let me know
And I'll sing in your ear again

Now the drugs don't work
They just make you worse
But I know I'll see your face again

Yeah, I know I'll see your face again

I know this sad song thing is utterly subjective depending on mood and timing and lyrics and melody, but this and, like, "I Am Stretched On Your Grave" or "Anachie Gordon" are the saddest of all time. So, all six of you, what are your saddest songs?

Remember, It's Two Hours Behind Us Part Deux

DAY FOUR, PART TWO - SANTA!
After tracking down David's "Born In East LA" pad and checking out their roof lawn we headed to Santa Monica where we did a little shopping (Zara! Club Monaco!) and a little buying and a lot of eating at a crepe restaurant featuring Le Sass as our waiter. Henry somehow downed a sandwich and a Parisian hot dog (wooden leg?) and we all had a lovely lovely. Then, back to our little corner of The Standard's Purple Lounge for drinks. They're not lying when they say it's purple. Oh, it's that and then some. Our server, Dana, was a charmer in a totally approachable kinda way and the DJ played "Thriller". C'mon. That's a place I know I'm going to love. While there, some of us drank more than others. Those some of us were the ones that had the map and were living in town for nearly a month. Those of us that quit drinking and started on the juice had never been to LA before and were suddenly the DD after discovering that a certain boy gets rather giggly and another becomes Sleeping Beauty following copious amounts of brown liquor. So, crash course in LA geography and some map fumbling with Gigglepuss got us to East LA and we returned unharmed.
Exhausted sleeping ensues after the administration of aspirin and water and repeated vows to never do that again.

DAY FIVE - OUT HERE THEY CALL IT AAAHHHHT, DAHLING
Oooh, The Getty. THE GETTY! David met us for breakfast at our cafe (omelet this time with mushrooms, herbs, and swiss. Oh, sigh.) and off we went to art it up. The tram up to the museum is art in and of itself. The rooms, the art, the gardens, the so adorable guards. I always thought the best part of the Getty legacy was Balthazar, but I was quite wrong. The best part is that museum. Plus, I learned to date a cabinet so now I've got a new trade!
Then what? Well, back to the beach, bitches! This time, we went to the real water where I got to run around and splash and pick up stones and watch the sunset. I could do that every day. Every. Single. Day.
Then, the hangovers demanded food so we went back to Sunset and ended up going for Mexican, but were denied by the blaring hair metal. So, we went boy's choice at House of Blues. (Note: not my choice. At this point I wanted enchiladas and copious amounts of sour cream and HOB is not now or ever going to cut it.) But, boys wanted steak. So, we wait and discover The Cars are playing! Well, the new Cars, not the used Cars. These cars aren't driven by Ocasek but rather some fill-in guy. Oh, and they were out of steak. (?)
Exhausted sleeping ensues after half watching television and wishing it were Sunday (Twisted Sister played HOB on Sunday!).

DAY SIX - THE BREAK UP
We'd been a little sick, stomachly speaking. Plus, it was our last day and time was of the essence. So, the boys and me split up and they went for film dork escapades and I ate breakfast (where?) at the cafe at The Standard. (Eggs over hard this time, nosy.) Then, I put the top down and headed for Beverly Hills (swimmin' pools, movie stars). I was surprised by an LA stereotype in the elevator (pulled taut and veloured) when she turned out to be surprisingly sweet. Did you know you can park for free in Beverly Hills? Free! I headed to Emporio Armani for something special for my dad who loves their logo (and knowing that there's precious little in BH I could ever afford for anyone else) and I saw my first real celebrity! Chanice Kobolowski! Better known to some as Amy Madigan! I complimented her on her glasses and she thanked me and then lamented the fact that aging dictates their necessity (a real celebrity that admits to aging! who's still holding on to a hot husband! I loved this Chanice!). What's going on in this land called LA? Polite plastic surgery women? Sweet famous people? Free Beverly Hills parking? Hoity hotel filled with nice? And it gets better???
Oh yes, dear readers. It gets better.
Maliboooooo!
After meeting up for a trip to Venice Beach (ugh. Homeless hippies.) and a visit to Marina Del Rey where we reenacted "Arrested Development" and ate frozen bananas,

we kissed David goodbye and headed off for our dinner up the coast at Duke's. Yeah, it's fancy, but you can wear jeans there and prices aren't insane and Elaine, your server, is quite perky and man, does it have the best view. In LA or going? Go there. It was far better than House of Blues (wow. there's a ringing endorsement.). While dining, I was texted by dear Sam Humphries of MySpace fame with the time and place of our meeting. Still feeling a bit illish, we muddled through and dolled ourselves up for Jones on Santa Monica to meet two of my favorite boys. We met Sam who definitely brought his hair for hugs and banter as poor Henry began sinking in health and knew it was his time. He headed back to the hotel after a round of goodbyes which left me there with Sam awaiting the arrival of THE HeyDanEvans. (How giddy was I? Dan and Sam? Wha? Chanice, you got nothing on them boys!) After Dan's arrival and another round of hugs, I tried Southern Comfort for the first (and last) time and chatted with these two internet friends who are just as sweet and charming in real life as they are online. And I have to take this time to give a shout out to one of my six readers - HeyDanEvans' mother-in-law! He confessed that she actually reads my blog so hey there HeyDanEvans' mother-in-law!!! I'll try to minimize the cursing! And you've got a plum of a son-in-law! You give him a hug for me once in a while, won't you?
So, after a wonderful evening with two wonderful boys, the kind Samuel returned me to my hotel.
Exhausted sleep ensues after crossing my fingers and toes for HeyDanEvans' meeting the next day.

DAY SEVEN - LUCKY ME
Eggsadilla for breakfast. See how I broke that up? Learned how good it was on the first day, but didn't over do it by ordering it each morning so my yen was far greater by the end? Yeah, I'm a genius. We bid farewell to our Standard boys. Packed all the suitcases full to bursting, dropped off my new car (bye Sebring!), and dragged ourselves into LAX for the wait. One chai tea, order of Chili's fries, and mulling over foreign magazines later, and we were on the plane and headed for 14 degree weather.
Exhausted sleep ensues after lugging in the bags, going through the mail, eating the pizza my parents left for us, and realizing that LA really is a nice place after all.

Sidebar: James Spader's on "Seinfeld" tonight in a 31 Flavors uniform. God. He's even delicious in that.

Hardest Parts: Not quoting "Uncle Buck" to Chanice. Leaving Jeff and Justin at The Standard along with those freaking good eggsadillas. Not getting more time with Sam and HeyDanEvans. Wishing there were millions in the account for the countless coats I found shopping.

Easiest Parts: Dollar Rent-a-Car, The Standard, hanging with Steph and Chris and Jennifer and Kevin (could they be better friends?), meeting Sam and Dan, hanging out with David, and the ocean. Oh, that ocean. That ocean's really some kinda something.

EPILOGUE - NAILED
After fighting it and running from it for days, I finally got it. Stomach flu. Friday night. All night. Sick, sick, sick. And I'm still not quite there. The broccoli cheddar soup I just ate really wants to see James Spader firsthand. But I'm keeping my mouth closed so too bad, soup. You'll just have to use your imagination.

Remember, It's Two Hours Behind Us

So we've returned. And to delight you, here are the highlights.

DAY ONE - COACH.
Flight at noonish cancelled after a long trek to a snowy/icy airport. Lines long as football fields make Henry a twitchy boy. After being diverted to a flight after the wedding on Saturday, the emergency Red Phone (not for launching nukes) gets us on a flight out that evening. Afternoon stuck in snowy St. Louis is spent taking photos of sky/trees and lunching followed by reparking, relining up, security, boarding, and flying.
Arrival at RIO Casino and Seventh Ring of Hell marked by the screaming of drunken harpies from the Midwest and a nearly mile long trek to our room in the Vomitorium Tower, the entry to which is randomly enforced by an armed security guard (I suppose to keep the drunken riff-raff limited to those with room keys. Such a relief.).
Return to the bowels of the harpies and satyrs for an $11 hamburger for Henry and distracted staring at the ugliest handbag I've ever seen for me. Endless reminders that Vegas isn't such a bad place, if you're staying at THEhotel.
Exhausted sleep ensues after discovering that the mirror/artwork on the wall doubles as a window to the shower.

DAY TWO - WEDDED BLISS!
Spago's egg salad sandwich is nowhere near as good as mine but dining in the Forum Shops is a surreal experience as I half expect nearly all of the decorations to come to life and regale me with tales of Roman times when faux pashmina was just $10 at the kiosk outside Louis Vuitton and Pete Rose signed autographs in the Sports Den on the second level.
Hooray for Jennifer and Kevin! Yes, Virginia, you can get married in Vegas without a drive-thru window! It was a lovely, perfectly brief ceremony filled with sweet words and happy faces. What more could one ask for?
Caesar's $11 Scotch was a good pre-ceremony warm up as the weather was windy and cold, but that didn't stop one misguided soul from splashing about in the pool.
Following the ceremony was milling during which Henry discovered the softness of James Perse and I realized that Vegas' Anthropologie may be the best in the nation. We both ran away from the "living statues" at breakneck speed and drank giant lemonades.
And then it was reception time (break it down). It was family style which, to be honest, was the perfect way to eat the 300lbs. of Asian food served to the group. Oh, flowing wine and water! Oh, cake brought in on a plane with delicately sparkling icing! Oh, don't make me eat mayo shrimp again!
Plus, Baby Ruth was located in the fish tank and appropriately fawned over by the bride and me.

Exhausted sleep ensues after visiting the cowboy casino and discovering where the cheap beer's been hiding.

DAY THREE - ADIOS, AMIGOS
Fran at Dollar Rent-a-Car is an angel straight from heaven and you get to PICK your car at Dollar. They don't make you take the stupid HHR. You can decide which car you want to spend the week with. No forcing! No, really! I can't recommend it enough and hereby swear to you, my six readers, that I will forever be loyal to the Dollar Rent-a-Car for as long as I can drive, or until they piss me off, whichever comes first.
After we pick out our rental car (greenish-grey Sebring convertible which I want now), we pack our ridiculous amounts of luggage into the back seat and head off for the dee-zert.
There's an exit called Zzyzx out there. Seriously. It's an exit and a street and a town called Zzyzx. Not nearly fast enough to take a photo but here's the wiki.
Drive, drive, drive.
Giant ravens in the dee-zert that I wanted to ensnare with shiny things and keep as pets which would not only be ill-advised, but might also cause a stir at The Standard.
Oh, The Standard! It was lovely. Don't believe the haters. We had a wonderful time there. But I'll get to that as it comes along.
First thing's first in LA - In-N-Out Burger for Henry! Now, I'm not a meat eater so I don't see what the fuss is all about, but I watched him eat two Double Doubles and an order of fries. If that's not love, I don't know what is. The grilled cheese (cheeseburger minus burger) wasn't the best I've ever had (Hardee's/Carl's Jalapeno Thickburger minus burger rules) and their fries, although I appreciate the freshness and all, tasted a wee bit like shoestring potatoes. The vanilla shake gets two thumbs, however.
Check in at the artsy-fartsy and everyone was such an absolute peach - not one iota of haughtiness - that I was immediately in love with The Standard. Although our room did have an odd scent, it was overcome with patio door opening and my travel candle. The platform bed was quite comfy and the bright orange tile was bracing. Only drawback was the fact that their toilet didn't have a lid and I'm a bit of a spiller.
Exhausted sleep ensues after marvelling at the Ignignot glowing billboard just across Sunset.

DAY FOUR - PLEASE DON'T TOUCH THE MCQUEEN
After breakfast at my favorite hotel (order the eggsadilla. Seriously.),

we headed to Skin + Bones at MOCA. First, there's architecture which is cool. Then there's fashion like this

which, I think we all know, is way better than anything Comme des Garcons ever put out there (yeah, the bumps dresses were incorporated). Don't worry, I bought the commemorative book. Come over and we'll bitch about the fact that there was far too much Toledo and Teng for my liking.
Gifts purchased, top down, we head off to meet David...

(Next time on Blogging OAA Style, tune in for the New Cars, Maliboo!, and Chanice Kobolowski.)

Please Tell Me You're Fucking Kidding

Neighborhood associations, condo boards, and all their self-important ilk can go fuck themselves as far as I'm concerned.

So I guess carollers can't sing "Silent Night" because it mentions sleeping in heavenly peace then.

And I suppose all of "It Came Upon A Midnight Clear" is right out as well.

What a delightful way to show the true meaning of Christmas - on earth peace and good will toward men - eh, neighborhood association bastards?

(My! Such anger for such a little girl!)

Holiday Wish List, Part Two

I'll take the whole thing, vol. 2
Originally uploaded by Old Aunt Amy.

Same thing here, darlings. Also from The Sartorialist.

Holiday Wish List, Part One

I'll take the whole thing, vol. 1
Originally uploaded by Old Aunt Amy.

I'll have what she's wearing. The military coat, the mini, the boots...yeah. The whole enchilada.

from The Sartorialist

Shat Out Sunday

Delta Burke's on "Boston Legal" and her cheek implants and various and sundry additional faux elements are creeping me out. I think they're coming at me through the television. Thank god this isn't in 3-D. And ABC is so very much into Shatner, he's on one show while they're calling his so over-the-top game show a Shat-stravaganza. Can a network be said to be dating a star? If so, ABC is working way too hard to get to third base.

Speaking of third base, James Spader can read a grocery list to me and make me woozy. He just told one of Henry's little dream girls to take her pants off and although I thought it weird for prime time TV, I really appreciated the scene. Not the Julie Bowen part, she bores me, but oooooh, James, feel free to steal home.

That said, uh, what's up with all the cutting and editing? It's snippety and zippy and swooshy and I'm not a fan. Good thing I got my Spader fix in one sweetheart of a scene and now can neglect to watch it for months. And I hope someone with YouTube talent feels the same way because that scene was...well, some kinda something.

Alfredo! Alfredo!

Philippe Noiret
Originally uploaded by Old Aunt Amy.

Arrivederci, Alfredo.

(Et au revoir, Philippe. Vous serez manqué.)

The World Mourns Legendary Spelling Errors

I am definitely not one to poke fun at someone while they're grieving and heavens knows I've put some bad writing out there in the world, but this is something I just can't quite understand.

Lohan's condolences to Altmans

Specifically the "BE ADEQUITE" part of that something. Be adequite? I haven't a notion what that means and this isn't written in a malicious way. I do have a strange predilection toward Miss Lohan (in that I want to pull her aside and be her mother or at least her big sister) and just hope this is some spelling mistake propagated by her lack of formal education. But then if she meant "be adequate", what does that mean? I know her singing is mediocre and her acting is just sub-par, but is she essentially striving for adequacy? Is this her life's goal? Seems so if I am to believe this purportedly heartfelt letter.

Lindsay, I reiterate my former plea. Move into my house. We'll make cocoa. We'll read books. We'll watch "CSI: Miami". We'll meet guys your age who aren't interested in getting on the covers of tabloids. It'll be normal...no...it'll be adequate. Trust me. Beyond everything else, that's clearly what you need.

(Insert Sign Of Relief Here)

DaimYankies
Originally uploaded by Old Aunt Amy.

She's back and so are her shots of foreign foodstuffs.

Elyse Sewell Blogs Again!

Baby Spice Is No Petula Clark

This is nearly as bad as Audrey Hepburn being used for the GAP ads. What's next - Emmanuel Lewis starring in a remake of "Arthur"? Tom Green in "Lawrence of Arabia"? Sarah Jessica Parker IS Foxy Brown? This is all shite and everyone involved needs to be smacked with the originality stick.

Jungle Red II

TulehHands
Originally uploaded by Old Aunt Amy.

Mind the claws, love. It's taken me two years to grow them.

All references to "The Women" aside, I'm not sure I want my Tuleh dress to come with its own set of hands grabbing my thigh. I don't care for people doing that much less fashion.

Catwalk Girls

As a self-confessed model hound, I'm always interested in the new girls. I absolutely love these beautiful babies currently.

Behati Prinsloo

Kinga Rajzak

Alison Nix

Anna Mariya Urazhevskaya

And naturally the supercute Darla Baker

Where are all the new blondies? I am in the mood for Lara Stone, but I'm just not there yet.

How It All Works

Fashion week explained. (Yes, I know its long been over, but I'm still just catching up, m'kay?)

Exits? Fire exits?

Your seat, Ms. Wintour.

Bridget Foley's Diary

From the Spring '07 issue of WWD Magazine and penned by Executive Editor Bridget Foley:

"The death of excitement may in fact be rooted in larger issues. We all know that the industry has changed. Pre-seasons rule, the seemingly insatiable celebrity fascination continues to outpace common sense by miles and a tidal wave of egalitarianism has, if not diverted, then at least caught the attention of fashion's top-tier names. That phenomenon goes hand in hand with not only the sage notion that everyone should, regardless of finances, have access to real fashion, but also the more questionable proposal that everyone - or at least everyone with minor name recognition - should, regardless of talent or skill, have access to a career as a designer. Thus, during the collections, there were Tinsley Mortimer, hawking her bags for Samantha Thavasa, and Scarlett Johansson, her jewelry collaboration with Imitation of Christ's highly accomplished Tara Subkoff. The trend is such that WWD found it noteworthy to report that, following in the footsteps of Clara Bow, Ava Gardner and Meryl Streep, Lindsay Lohan will not launch a line, having heeded the advice of her pal Karl Lagerfeld, who is apparently fine with her idea of opening a vintage shop at some point next year. Meanwhile, reaching into another design realm entirely, Nicky Hilton talked up her shift from hotel 'heiress' to actual hotelier, though whether she will ultimately sign off on the architectural plans for a building intended not to fall down on people is unclear."

Oh, Bridget, you are a girl after my own heart. Let's meet for hot cocoa and discuss the differences between Ward and Pivovarova.

Hussein Chalayan S/S 07

I know all the fashionistas are talking about the amazing presto-chango dresses that Chalayan showed, and I agree they are incredible, but no more incroyable than the less anamatronic ones.

The Most Fun A Vegetarian Can Have With Meat

The Fast Food Nation Game

Seriously, it's like Donkey Kong, but with E.Coli.

The Prettiest.

The First Time I Met Charles Bronson

Hugs to Sam for somehow dredging this back up. I wrote this a long time ago and Jennifer and Stephanie still remember the very shade of pink I'm referencing. (I can still see the store display and the color of pink! Now I want a polish pen!!! Jennifer. See?) And now, without further delay...

The First Time I Met Charles Bronson

The first and only time I met Charles Bronson was while he was working the cosmetics counter at the Walgreen's on Hampton. Jennifer, Stephanie, and I rode our bikes up there for our bi-weekly $5 spending spree. We all picked out our standard Cadbury's chocolate bar (fruit and nut for me) and began perusing the Nail Polish Pens when Jennifer discovered a pen in the perfect shade of pink - not too dusty rose, not too cotton candy. It was the last one. Being the proper Catholic school girl, I began to pout over the fact that the shade would go much better with my redheaded complexion than her blonder looks, but she, heart set on that Nail Polish Pen, ignored my passive aggression. It was then, just when I thought hope was lost, that I met Charles Bronson.

He stepped from behind the counter where he had been keeping busy marking down flocked animal shaped banks to let me know that he thought they had more in back in just that shade of pink. The three of us waited, unaware of the glory and splendor we had just been witness to. Then, Mr. Bronson returned carrying a box of Maybelline Nail Polish Pens and holding one in that shade of pink in his hand. He gently lay the box on the floor and offered me the prize I'd been waiting for. Then he suggested he ring us out at his register at the cosmetics counter. It was like we were princesses and Bronson our magic godfather. No lines for the princesses! Every Nail Polish Pen wish comes true for the princesses!

That was the last time I saw him. We went back two weeks later, $5 in hand, and bought the same exact grade school booty - candy bar and Nail Polish Pen - from some nameless middle aged woman. Although I can't be sure, it seemed like I got a lot less back in change that time. Perhaps I'm just misremembering. Perhaps I'm Nail Polish Penning this whole story a little rosier than it really was, but I think Bronson gave us a discount

Oh Thank God

Meeting tomorrow cancelled, that annoying flapping sound in the women's room has been silenced, and Lily's arrived. Take that rainy day!

Just Puttin' 'Em Out There

Thoughts in my head:

"Upon her knee
So fine to be
Mother and boy
Mooootherrrrrbooooyyyyy"

That Bank of America employee singing his version of "One" is what I used to have to write back in the day, but my songs for clients were much funnier. I mean "Come Bake With Me" in the style of "Come Fly With Me" is, granted, far easier, but that's his first mistake. Always pick an upbeat song!

I don't want to write that creative brief. I hate writing creative briefs.

Amy's brand cheese pizza is meh. The people they rant and rave, but they don't really know. It's decided that I prefer Red Baron's mini pizzas because they remind me of the personal pan pizzas we ate in high school.

Where is my fucking Lily Allen CD?!?!!!

The Three

Ed Bradley yesterday.

Jack Palance today.

Who's next?

(Ed and Jack, have a great time where ever you're headed.)

Eerie.

Make sure you check the date it was written before reading on.

The Onion's take on Our Long National Nightmare

(Pointed out by Drew.)

Hollywood Officially Out Of Ideas

In exasperation, studio proposes to remake "The Women".

What more do you want!?! Aren't cinematic gems like Deck The Halls enough for the obviously discerning American viewing public? Now we have to remake everything under the sun?

Well, brain dead Hollywood execs, just try it and I'll paint my nails Jungle Red...all the better to claw Diane English's eyes out, darling.

The Promise

No, not the song by When In Rome (although snaps to you for thinking that). I've become rather obsessed with Lily Allen. I read her MySpace page, I listen to the songs I can get online all day, much to the frustration of my co-workers and my Safari, and when I'm not listening to them, I'm humming them. (Right now it's "LDN" making the endless loop.)

Yes, I've ordered her CD online and should receive it here shortly, but until then, I've promised to lay off the Lily until the CD's here. Then, all bets are off and I will resume the humming/listening/obsessing.

That is all.

Forget The Elections

This is far more important. (And far more feasible than electing a person for 4 years and expecting them to actually get anything done in a government that rewards stupidity, wallet-padding, and abject disregard for the earth and its people.)

Britney drops the baggy-pants wearing loser like a hot potato.

Take that, government. It only took her 26 months to get that done. What positive change have you made in 26 months?

HeyDanEvans

I'm coming to HellAy in a couple of weeks and want to see you. No more Flat Amy for you! (Not that you ever really had one, but maybe I can work something out on that front.)

Since I've never been there, I think a chicken/waffle whatsit trip is in order at the very least.

Does Anyone Know Anyone Who's A Member Of...

The Fashion Spot

My office (ad agency with fashion clients) would like to get on, but you have to be invited. Any assistance out there?

Or Am I The Best Thing You've Had?

My Carl reads the classics

I've Come To Accept A Few Truths In My Life

I accept that I will never have a nose as pretty as Jessica Stam's.

I accept that I will never marry Wil Wheaton.

I accept that my teenage life will not duplicate Sloane's from "Ferris Bueller's Day Off" (and I've just come to that realization).

I accept that people think leggings are okay as pants (although they're so very wrong).

I accept that, at this point, it's going to be rather difficult to become a marine biologist and a gerontologist in my lifetime.

And I had accepted that my other youthful crush - Neil Patrick Harris - was not playing on my team. But, his people say otherwise.

Does this mean that all my acceptances thus far are lies and that I'm actually the legging-clad, perfect-nosed wife of devil-may-care Ensign Crusher living on a research ship/retirement center? If so, someone pinch me.

If She Can, I Can

Now I'm not related to my Halloween costume, but surely there are more talented singers in the world. Some of them were on that show with wall-eyed Brandy, that British guy, and the Hoff, for chrissakes. This is just an embarrassment for everyone involved and someday that little Lohan will grow up and be humiliated by her college roommate (if she even makes it that far educationally).

Enjoy your Lohan Holiday, if you dare

A Special Dedication to Eric

This one goes out to you, my bro. (With special thanks to Danielle, your former houseguest, for the pointer.)

Our Version of OK! Magazine

Our Version of OK! Magazine
Originally uploaded by Old Aunt Amy.

The office Halloween theme - overexposed celebrities. That's me as Lindsay Lohan, Wes as Owen Wilson, Tina as Courtney Love, Becca as Kate Hudson, Bethany as Britney Spears, Jamey as Dog the Bounty Hunter, Priya as Lil' Kim and the front row is Patrick as Generic Rapper and Jason as KFed.

I'm so proud.

The Reading Habits Of One Miss Amy

I just reread The End of Alice and have to say I can't believe I made people read that for book club ages ago. Sure, it's bound to get a room talking, but holy cats is it disturbing. The thing most amazing to me is that A.M. Homes, the book's author, is a woman. I don't know why I find that surprising. Certainly women are as capable as men of thinking thoughts that make a granny blush, but this just seems so convincingly told by a male - a damaged, twisted, wicked one - that it seems impossible that she's a she. I suppose that's either a testament to her writing ability or my sexism, but to be frank, I don't think Steinem's main goal was to make women equal to male child molesters and murders. So, when you're ready to be thoroughly unnerved by a novel, seek that one out. I've never read one more eerie.

One side effect though is that it always calls to mind a little game we had going back in the day when the interweb drew me to people far flung and we all knew each other via ye olde Delphi forums. I think it was JOSH's that got us all making mixes based on some theme and mine (and newlywed Todd's) was murder. Something evil like that. I decided to make one based on The End of Alice and as it happened Tom Waits' "Alice" had just come out (go get it now. Honestly. It's the best CD ever recorded) and as we all can surmise the original Alice's life story wasn't all just tea and Tweedles. It just seemed like too many Alice stars aligned and I came up with a darn good, wickedly subversive CD. But I never burned it. Mostly because I didn't have a CD burner, but also because to make it real just seemed too creepy. To this day that playlist still haunts me. I've heard songs that tangentially fit that theme and immediately think about including on the fictional disk and re-creep myself out. I believe that someday I'll throw something together and send it to Todd and he and I can be creeped out together. Hopefully doing that would free me from hearing wicked things in otherwise innocent songs and preserve me from admitting to the 6 of you that when I hear certain types of songs I immediately think of child murderers.

Goodbye and Thank You

May your afterlife be filled with courses without sand traps.

I hope someday we meet again, my beloved Dr. Abel.

Littlest Things by Miss Lily Allen

Just delightful, this little gem.

Cakes, Converse and Coppola

"Marie Antoinette" was like cinematic Cirque du Soleil - it was stunningly gorgeous, the costumes were amazing, the staging was breathtaking, and as I left the theater I wanted to be a part of it. It also was short on dialogue, loosely plotted, and sorta told a story. I liken it to flipping through a book of pictures - you get the feeling of what's going on, but you don't really feel the emotion.

That said, I'm going to work her rosy cheeked look far more often and will continue to hope for the return of the corset.

Happy Moving Away Party, David!

natalie
Originally uploaded by Imaginary Socialite.

Thought this might help ease the pain of packing all your belongings, loading a truck, and driving all that way to La La Land. Nothing says fun like Portman with Silly String.

This Is Where The Story Ends

I can't believe Elyse Sewell has stopped blogging. This is a crisis. I treasured her wee bon mots like manna from heaven. Her humor, her views on life, her zany photos - she had it all. This is heartbreaking.

At least I still have the Imaginary Socialite, but it's just not the same.

Sigh.

My Darling McQueen

Alexander, love,
I say, let's meet at the NYC library and sneak into the rare book room and read the first edition of The House Of Mirth to each other. I dare say we should smuggle in a Thermos of tea and some finger sandwiches while we're at it. At that point, what have we to lose? You bring the dresses and I'll starve myself until then.
Curtsies and kisses,
OAA

my GOD!

Is there really anything one can say about this photo?

That's The Past

But at least it helps you 6 know what the hell I've been doing the last two weeks. So, to sum up, here's the top 10 things I've done while away from my dear darlings (in no discernable order):

1. Used the word "prancy"
2. Saw nuns talking to drag queens
3. Slept 14 hours straight
4. Turned the Washington Monument into my middle finger
5. Overused the word "treasure"
6. Met my new friend Dottie
7. Walked in a prairie
8. Ate wheatberry pilaf
9. Started liking Lily Allen
10. Watched Tyra get married in the prettiest ceremony ever

Democratic Breakfasts

Does anyone else get a wee bit nervous for the Democrats' future when, even now, a Google search for "waffles" yields this:



I know I do.

An Open Letter To America Regarding A Certain Lohan

Hi there, U.S.,

I've written this letter because I know we have a lot to talk about - politics, wars, moronic presidents that should have what's left of their brains removed with bendy straws - but let's get down to the serious stuff, the stuff we really care about. Let's talk Lindsay Lohan. Hell, everyone else is so why not you and me?

See, here's the thing - gurl crazy. She's got a lot of "issues" including, but not limited to, daddy abandonment, growing up fast, unstable mother, liars as friends, and certainly a load of people around her under her employ that are up to no good. Why am I talking about this when we have those straws to deploy in a certain world leader's nostrils? Well, y'all seem to be fascinated with her and I just want to make sure we're all on the same page here. You're fascinated because she's a train wreck, right? You're not fascinated because she's breaking new acting ground in a movie starring a car, are you? You're just fascinated because she's clearly too young to go to nightclubs that are 21+, but she's allowed in anyway, correct? You're just into her for all the shallow, mind-boggling reasons I am, because if you think she's the Bernhardt of our generation, well, read this, brought to my attention via Imaginary Socialite and let me know what you think: Lindsay in ELLE.

Done? Okay.

WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT? She is out of her frigging mind if she expects us to believe she's normal. I was 20 and I can tell you for a fact that I never behaved in such an outlandish, selfish, boorish, bordering on conversationally retarded manner. Hell, for that matter I was 7 and can report the same to be true. Does anyone ever tell her no? Does anyone ever say, "Hey, Linds, you're fucking mental, your mom's apeshit, your dad's in jail, you're friends with Kate Moss (who is eternally beautiful but has issues of her own), why don't we take this down a notch for a while and let things cool off."? What this girl needs, America, is what no one will ever give her - a mental beatdown. She needs to be reminded that she is an ACTOR in MOVIES, not god's gift to the development of society. I am so sick of her and her ilk that expect everything will be handed to them if they continue to act the way they do. So, as a collective - you and me, USA - let's just ignore her. It worked pretty well with Paris' music career so let's direct this toward Ms. Lohan. Just stop paying attention and let her calm her freak ass down. And, she wants it that way, nation of my birth: "I have this Andy Warhol lighter—it means so much to me—that has this quote on it. I wish I knew it exactly, but it says something like, 'Everyone in the world will eventually have their 15 minutes of fame.' Something similar to that. But it's so true!" SEE! She passively aggressively wants her time to be up. (Let's not get started on the fact that this well-established quote has come to her in the form of a lighter. Let's just leave that alone because that just conjures up images of her learning Shakespeare via novelty coffee mugs and that's an entirely different kettle of uneducated fish.) Stop reading about her on-again-off-again flings with floppy haired man children. Stop watching videos of her doing high-kicks in alleys for no reason. Stop wondering if she's going to be in Louis Vuitton ads or Fendi ads or Chanel ads or ads for prescription meds (which she should be as a cautionary tale at the very least). Just stop.

And send her to me for a real talking to that will slap some damn sense into her completely empty head.

Thanks, country o' mine,

OAA

Oh Lord. It's This Saturday.

It's Not Always Bad News

This is why the world is inherently a good place.

It may be filled with pain and sorrow, but it gives us so much good and beauty that it can break your heart.

Secrets REVEALED!

I hate the designs of Marc Jacobs.



There. I said it.

An Open Letter To Gap, Inc.

This bastardization sends me into a murderous rage each time I think of it.

Fuck. You.




That being said, I need skinny black pants for my H&M Balenciaga jacket knock-off.

Love,
OAA

Abe

A few days after I went to Home Depot and bought the most bedraggled ficus tree I could find - I'm always one for a project and I guess I've just seen "Merry Christmas, Charlie Brown" too many times. I had a hard time getting him to the checkout and into the car. His top hung out the sunroof and I laughed, amazed at the little tree's fortitude in holding onto the thin leaves that grew from his top branches. They were all intact when we arrived home and I hauled him up three flights to my bedroom. His name is Abe and he's been hanging in there ever since. He enjoys the outdoors during the summer, flourishing and adding new leaves daily, and this winter he'll be living in the new blue guest room, near the window, of course. He's still a bit odd-shaped and he's never filled out completely. One side is still strangely bare, but that's the side that goes to the wall, anyway. He's my dear and if all my plants mysteriously died (heaven forbid), he'd be the one I'd mourn.

He was named for Abe Zelmanowitz. And every time I think of Abe the Tree, I think of Abe the Person and smile. He was a good egg and I look forward to hugging him someday. Until then, I'll hold tight to Abe the Tree.

Things To Remember

BUY:
Criterion's "Kicking and Screaming"
Bridesmaid dress
Wellies for bridesmaid dress
(And heels, you purists)
Tickets to LV for Sandbox's wedding
A car
Jesus candles
Serene Sea paint for the painting party
"Twin Peaks: Season One" DVD already!
Black military jacket

SELL:
Prada handbag

MAKE:
Stick Joan of Arc
Signs for 9.23
Water into wine miracles

Not Since June

If you go away
On this summer day
Then you might as well
Take the sun away
All the birds that flew
In the summer sky
When our love was new
And our hearts were high
And the day was young
And the nights were long
And the moon stood still
For the night bird's song

If you go away
If you go away
If you go away...

But if you stay
I'll make you a day
Like no day has been
Or will be again
We'll sail on the sun
We'll ride on the rain
And talk to the trees
And worship the wind

But if you go
I'll understand
Leave me just enough love
To fill up my hand

If you go away
If you go away
If you go away...

If you go away
As I know you will
You must tell the world
To stop turning
'til you return again
If you ever do
For what good is love
Without loving you?
Can I tell you now
As you turn to go
I'll be dying slowly
'til the next hello

If you go away
If you go away
If you go away...

But if you stay
I'll make you a night
Like no night has been
Or will be again
I'll sail on your smile
I'll ride on your touch
I'll talk to your eyes
That I love so much

But if you go
I won't cry
Though the good is gone
From the word goodbye

If you go away
If you go away
If you go away...

If you go away
As I know you must
There is be nothing left
In this world to trust
Just an empty room
Full of empty space
Like the empty look
I see on your face
And I'd been the shadow
Of your shadow
If you might have kept me
By your side

If you go away
If you go away
If you go away...

Never Again.

The mother of all surveys stolen from Sarah at http://fallswithgrace.blogspot.com/.

BASICS

Birthday: 10.2.1973. It's one of my favorite days of the year and I'll remind you every chance I get. Hell, I wear a sash that reads "It's My Goddamn Birthday" on that day.
Sign: Libra.
Siblings: One brother.
Eye color: Blue
Shoe size: 8.
Height: 5'9"
What are you? I'm just a girl in the world. That's all that you'll let me be.
Innie or outie? Innie
What are you wearing right now? Red plaid boxers and a white tee.
Where do you live? In a caboose in the Loo.
Righty or lefty? Righty.
Can you make a dollar in change right now? I have a lot of change, but I rarely have a dollar.

FAVORITE STUFF

Where is your fav place to shop? NYC.
Favorite kind of pants? Skirts.
Color? Green.
Number? 27.
Animal? Elephants, giraffes, whales, dogs, monkeys, apes.
Drink: Newcastle, Manhattans, Tom Collins's.
Sport(s): Swimming. Which I don't do nearly enough of.
Month: October. Birthday, Hallowe'en, Autumn. Perfect.
Band: The Divine Comedy, Soul Coughing, Frou Frou.
Movie: First 3 that come to mind from the favorite list - The Royal Tenenbaums, His Girl Friday, Funny Face.
Juice: White grape.
Finger: I'm going to go with right hand pinky because it seems so...forgotten.
Breakfast: Creole Eggs Benedict from Duff's.
Perfume: Creed's Silver Mountain Water.
Favorite Cartoon Character: Disney's Alice in Wonderland.

HAVE YOU EVER?

Given anyone a bath? Yes.
Smoked? Yes.
Gone skinny dipping? Yes.
Put your tongue on a frozen pole? I saw "A Christmas Story". I learned my lesson by watching.
Loved someone so much it made you cry? I feel sorry for people that haven't.
Broken a bone? Knock wood, no.
Played truth or dare? Yes.
Been in a police car? Yes. But not for being naughty.
Fallen asleep in school? Naturally. And as I got older, that habit transferred to work.
Broken someone's heart? Probably not nearly as many times as mine's been broken.
Cried when someone died? Definitely.
Cried in school? I loved school, but I cried there - on stage, after I found out a friend died, at graduation, lots of times.
Fell off your chair? Clumsy Clara's fallen off her chair a number of times. And fallen into chairs even more.
Saved AIM conversations? Yes.
Fallen for one of your best friends? Nope. Not in a make out kinda way, but I am definitely in love with a lot of them. Like that, you mean?
Made out with JUST a friend?: Yes.
Used someone? Yes. And I'll admit it, although I'm not proud of it.
Been cheated on? Oh. I'm sure.

WHAT IS...?

Your good luck charm? I don't really have one. I guess it's the sun coming up in the morning and the moon at night. That's pretty good luck.
Best song you ever heard? "Dream A Little Dream Of Me".
Stupidest thing you have ever done? Not being brave and giving up on Chicago.
What's your room like? I'm going with the room I'm working on now - blue, white, oceany.
What is beside you? Empty soup bowl, water bottle, magazines, Tums, pillows, books, Arthur the Mountain Goat.
Last thing you ate? Uncle Ben's Broccoli, Cheddar & Rice soup and pulpy orange juice.
What kind of shampoo do you use? Anything not using animal products or tested on animals. Nature's Gate at the moment, but Giovanni and Phytologie products are brilliant.
Best thing that has happened to you this year? There's a lot of good things, but no bests.

HAVE YOU EVER HAD...?

Chicken pox? Yes. Hell, I liked it so much I took it up a notch and got shingles!
Sore Throat? I have one right now and I'm really afraid it's strep.
Stitches? On my foot when I was 3. Cut it on a glass soap dish.
Broken nose? I wish. I could have it reset and get rid of this bump. All the times I've been hit in the head in sports and never once did I get a broken nose.

DO YOU...?

Believe in love at first sight? Most certainly.
Believe in LOVE? If you don't love somethin', you ain't got nothin'.
Like picnics? I carry around an emergency picnic blanket in the trunk. Yeah, I like picnics.

WHO...?

Who was the last person that called you? My brother.
Who was the last person you slow danced with? Someone at work, I believe. I think we were goofing off.
Who makes you laugh the most? I'm lucky that I have a lot of people that make me laugh super hard on a daily basis.
Who makes you smile daily? I'd say the world makes me smile on an hourly basis. There was a cat sitting in a barrel today just peeking out. How can a cat peek out of a barrel? Well, the cat can if it's really a planter, but from far away it was lip of barrel, cat head in that order. And he hung out there all day. So brilliant I had to take a photo.
Who was the last person you yelled at? Henry.
Who has broken your heart? Boys, the world, evil, loneliness, orphaned elephants.

DO YOU/ARE YOU...?

Do you wear contacts or glasses? Sadly, no glasses. Fortunately, no contacts.
You like yourself? I do. I'm certainly not perfect, but I try to be a good person and that's all any of us can do on a day-to-day basis.
Do you get along with your family? Yes. They're good people.
Stolen anything over $50? Probably.
Obsessive? Compulsive? Do I have to pick just one? I'll take both, thanks.
Anorexic? I consider it from time to time. It would make trying on clothes so much more pleasant, but oh, food. How I love thee!

FINAL QUESTIONS

What did you do yesterday? Paint, walked the mall with Gwenny, ate avocado egg rolls, watched "Arrested Development", ironed, didn't sleep.
Hated someone in your family? Yes.
What car do you wish to have? Toyota Prius.
Where do you want to get married? I'm not really a get married sort of person. But I'll take a long vacation in Fiji.
Good driver? I think so. I'm polite, drive super close to the speed limit, and I've only been sued once over an accident I didn't cause.
Good dancer? I need to get back to ballet and see.
Good singer? No. And I never claimed to be.
Have a lava lamp? Oh, heavens no.
How many remote controls are in your house? Too many. 5?
Are you double jointed? No.
Last time you took a bath? I don't have a bathtub yet, unfortunately. I'd be in it now if I had one.
The last movie you saw at the theatres? Regrettably, "Step Up". I was hoping for "Save The Last Dance"/"Bring It On". Sadly, it was neither.
Scary or happy movies? Whatever you got.
Chocolate or white chocolate? I'm not really a sweets person.
Root Beer or Dr.Pepper? Neither. Squirt's my latest favorite.
Mud or Jell-O wrestling? What the hell kind of question is that?
Vanilla or chocolate? Vanilla. Sweet vanilla.
Skiing or boarding? I wish I were at boarding school right now. A preppy youth's dream come true.
Summer or winter? Winter. Snow. How I love snow.
Silver or gold? I'll take platinum. I could use the investment right now.
Diamond or pearl? Is this a Prince related question? I'll just go with solid metals for now. Prince is kinda skeevy.
Sunset or sunrise? Sunsets. I'm no morning person.
Cats or dogs? Dogs.
Coffee or tea? Tea. Coffee makes me pukey.
Phone or in person? Oh how I hate the phone. I hate cell phones and although I have rollover minutes, those might as well be burned off by someone else because I'll have millions stored up and never use them. And I really hate voicemail. Ugh.
Are you oldest, middle, youngest, or only? Oldest.

I believe in ghosts, I believe that Crystal is the best hot sauce for eggs, I believe in NPR, I believe that "CSI:Miami" is the bestworst show on TV, I believe that someday I'll be able to have a dog, I believe that this is all you could ever want to know about me, and I can't believe I've wasted so much time on this thing.

Icons Don't Need Updates

The Sartorialist wrote a post about Mary Tyler Moore recently and the comments have me thinking. Why do we constantly need to update icons? Why does someone need to be the new version of an older performer? Why can't those icons stand the test of time without us trying to update them for our current media as if new actors can't stand on their own merits? Are we so simple that we can't relate to newcomers without tying them to someone we're familiar with? I grew so tired of the "Debra Messing is the new Lucille Ball" comparison because no matter what Debra might do, she's not the new Lucille Ball. Lucille Ball was Lucille Ball and she's Debra Messing, moderately comedic actress who happens to dye her hair red. To be honest, she wasn't even that comedic. I find it all so demeaning to the predecessors to assume that their individuality can be co-opted by someone else 30 years later.

And for that matter, why aren't the old movies enough without the remakes - the adaptations for today? I think we all get the plot of "Sabrina" without having Harrison Ford in it. I'm pretty sure we're all into the "Poseidon" thing. Boat flips, tragedy, triumph, but no awesome theme like "The Morning After" in the sunk-before-it-swam revisiting.

Solution? Parents, show your kids the old movies. Let them see the stars and the plots for themselves. And although we'll always have Wolfgang and celebrity profile writers looking to make a connection, at least we'll know that they're all just not as good as the originals.

Camp Anaconda

That's where my cousinish will be stationed when she reaches Iraq shortly after Thanksgiving. (I say "cousinish" because I am still unclear on the family tree.) Yesterday was her going away party with family and friends out near the shore of the Mississippi in Portage des Sioux (look it up. Lots of history.). It was an absolutely stunning summer day - sunny, blue sky, cool breeze - and I just loved being out there with the family. But the only thing that kept running through my head was "my anaconda don't want none unless you've got buns, hun" (whip crack). Fortunately, it was going through cousinish's head as well.

I can't wait to innundate her with Sir Mix-A-Lot memorabilia.

New Age Agony

I sometimes get frustrated when people don't update their blogs on a regular basis. These are blogs of people I don't even know. The people I DO know, I find myself growing angry if they let their blog go for 2 days. I think this is a sign that I need to read books or that y'all need to get more interesting lives.

The Things They Want Me To Do

In the last week, the two owners of the company I work for have decided I need to replicate these two photos.





I haven't decided which one we should tackle first.

Glory Days

Tent, Promenade, Atelier

How I wish we could all be there, my darlings. Oh, how I wish.

Peter Pan Has Some Strong Feelings About Net Neutrality

We Are The Web

The music video's a bit long, but the kittens show up and those hamsters with big lips.

Baby Ruth!

"The Goonies" next Friday night at midnight at the Tivoli. Be there or be a Fratelli.

Just Because I'm Veggie Doesn't Mean I Can't Respect The Other Team

from Brentter

MySpace, Queen of Time Wasters

I know. I feel like the person who showed up for Woodstock a week late. Regardless, I love making lists about my favorite things so I've made a page.

Yeah. Super exciting Saturday night.

My View, Bitches

I once loved "Survivor". I don't any longer, but back in the day, I won the office "Survivor" pool based on my guessing and my love for Elisabeth Hasselbeck. If I didn't find her daddy/daughter relationship with corn-fed Roger so endearing, I wouldn't have liked her nearly as much and I definitely wouldn't have won. So, I thank her for that. But, I don't thank her for her backwards hillbilly take on emergency contraception.

Her "slippery slope" argument holds about as much water as a thimble and I'd personally love for her to go with me on SART calls and she can explain why the 40-year-old woman who was raped by her husband, isn't being believed by police, and is paranoid about getting pregnant should be more conscious of her maybe baby and less about herself. And yeah, I know Behar threw out the extreme twelve-year-old-incest-survivor example, but that's like 1 in 100,000. It's the women that have tiny shreds of hope left and peer-pressured, experimenting teenagers and women who just made a bad decision about a guy that need those pills and the women that have bigger issues on their mind like getting in a shelter or pressing charges. Plus, there's enough freakin' babies in this world and I personally don't think we need any more when so many don't even have homes or mothers or football playing daddies. Frankly, if I knew then what I know now, I would have donated my winnings to Planned Parenthood in her name. So enjoy this video of Babwah Wahwah laying down the law on "The View".

Women's Rights, Take One Feeble Daytime Host Sized Step Back

And on a completely different note, is that Lisa Loeb? Is that one of the strangest guest hosts for that show? Who next? Tabitha Soren? Samantha Fox?

Dave of the FMD

Where are you? I read this and immediately thought of you. And of poor Angela.

Good-bye Audrey Lindvall

Work Schmirk

It's been a whole year since I started working for Propaganda. A whole year. Wow. It seems like just yesterday that I pulled a bottle of Dewars out of our scary Brady Bunch kitchen cabinet and downed a shot after telling CPG that I was really leaving. In front of my mother. Who didn't find it either amusing or soothing. I, however, found it to be both. But, seeing as how it's been a whole year, I thought I'd share with the 6 of you where I work. Not really where because I've had a real stalker before and it's more creepy than thrilling, but rather my inside work desk-type environs.






Part of my desk! That other part of my desk! And, if it can be believed, yet even another part of my desk!!

Things you might recognize from your lives: a phone! a bottle of Tums (mint flavor, please)! paper! is that a notebook? various drinks!

Things you might not recognize from your lives: the lion that burps! the badge that gives me full power to bust people at the Hotel Intercontinental in Dallas! uh...my free Curious George from our printer Brian!

And yet one more strange thing, the whole thing is BACKWARDS!!! Zany MacBook and its reverso-camera!!!

The Simple Brain

I cracked myself up on the way home. Seriously, laughing in the car by your self is considered cracking yourself up 'round these parts.

Why, you ask? It's nearly time to hit the polls again and after the last time I voted, during the '04 presidential election, I was a little less than enthusiastic about doing it again. I mean look how THAT turned out. But, I'm a little trooper and my America needs me now more than ever and I'm so gung-ho that I even have a lawn sign and everything for one of our local candidates. On the way home today, I caught sight of lawn sign for a candidate that I'd never heard of before. She's running for collector of revenue. Her name....Kate Suave. No lie. How can I vote for someone who's name is "Suave" and seriously expect them to be good at handling money? She's probably married to Rico and on the side they run a shampoo company.

So, these thoughts, all of the just plain dumb, made me laugh out loud. Then I kept it going when I noticed the guy sitting at the light behind me. He was bald, big moustache, sleeves removed tee guy and I thought he was driving his grandma around because I could have sworn that was her in the backseat. But no. It was a big apricot colored poodle.

How could I not crack up?

Jesus Juice

Upon hearing that Mel Gibson has reportedly checked into rehab, a certain someone wondered: "Where's your lord now, Mel?"

I guess he found the lord at the bottom of a bottle.

Considering the incredibly anti-Semitic statements old Mel felt compelled to make, Mr. Gibson can stay at the bottom of the bottle for all I care.

Lord Loves A Workin' Man

Work. You love that it pays the bills and that's about it. Seriously. If you had all the money in the world, you can be sure as shit you wouldn't be working a 9 to 5. (Or a 5 to 1 or a 7 to 3 or whatever the hell hours you work.) People always say, "Oh, even if I won, I'd just have to work in some capacity!" I call bullshit. Sure you'd work, but you wouldn't care about your work or you'd have some cushy, personal goal attaining job like working as a counter girl in some ritzy department store where you can finally afford everything or you'd volunteer to save whales or knit for a living or something. You wouldn't show up every day to the office/restaurant/school/freelance gig you work in now filled with zeal for creating PowerPoints or logos or whatever it is you create.

So, you work. And sometimes you work in cool places and sometimes you work in crap places, but there's always the constants - you will always have to stay after because someone decides to get their changes/order/homework in at the last minute; you will always have a person in the office that you have to work to be civil to; you will always have to nag people about cleaning up after themselves; you will never make enough money, get enough respect, or have enough vacation time; and you will always want a better/different job.

I have a job, which is good because I also have bills. I work in an "open" office which is supercool in theory. It's completely untenable when you have a conference call or any call for that matter. It's completely stupid when you need to just ignore someone as there's no wall/door/cube keeping you hidden. It's absolutely a mess if you have to have a meeting and the conference room is taken. And if there's one thing I hate it's that you're busy - up to your eyeballs busy - and co-workers will just walk right up and sit down and wait for you to pay attention to them. To add to it, all day long my point of view affords me the following excitements:

seeing everyone entering/exiting the bathroom
being the de facto receptionist because I work closest to the elevator
a constant greeting parade from everyone who walks past my desk (waves, words, sounds, etc.)

Fun, non?

I know I shouldn't complain, and I'm not, really. It's a fun place usually and there are definitely fun people. It's just that when am I going to win the lottery again?

A Word From Our Sponsor

Just a reminder that some of you are certainly more savvy with this "blogging". So, if I can't yet determine how to get text to layout correctly or if I happen to be away from my HTML cheat sheet and can't remember how to link, forgive me. I am but a lowly opinionated philistine in a world of techies.

The Motherload

Ye Interweb Gods have pleased me again.

They have unearthed the earthly delight that is Colin Quinn's "Going Back To Brooklyn" - not only the special, but also the music video pulled out so I can watch it ovah and ovah and ovah again.

The Video Only

The Motherload

How I've longed for this moment.

AD3

You can now order your third (and final) season of "Arrested Development" at Amazon, darlings. Go order yours or Mr.F might come after you.

(Speaking of Mr.F, there's a thin line between me and Charlize's character. And that thin line is that she can play the banjo.)

Emmys Schmemmys

Uh, does no one watch "Deadwood"? Are you freakin' fuckin' kidding me? Was it exempt because it's set in a time before the Emmys existed? Someone explain how "Ghost Whisperer" got an Emmy nom and "Deadwood" didn't. Please.

(Although, the "GW" nod was probably for "Best Ridiculous Costuming". On a completely different note, has anyone else noticed that Love Hewitt's acting response for "That smells bad", "I can't believe that!", "Well, that was weird", "Ghosts say the darndesd things", and "He did WHAT!?!" are all the same. It's a twitchy, draw the head back, wrinkle nose thing. It either ends in a smirky smile or a Charlie Brown frown.)

And seriously, is the incredibly grating I-can't-even-watch-it-and-I'm-their-target "Grey's Anatomy" really nominated for awards? The two leads of "Law & Order: SVU"? Do they know that I watch that show and laugh out loud because it's so fawningly melodramatic?

If it's taking this turn, then where are the noms for The Great (David) Caruso?

Notes On The Box

I love "CSI: Miami". Oh, that Horatio Caruso. David Caine. Either way, they're magic. MAGIC! I tells ya. It's so absurd and overwrought! I can't love it any more! I encourage all 6 of you to watch it and be amazed by the pauses and the sunglasses applications and the growling, one-note responses. It is truly a thing of beauty.

"It" is a key component to both the eBay campaign and the Gatorade campaign. eBay wants you to find "it" in its astounding array of offerings and the Gators want you to check and see if "it" is in you. I hope they both know they aren't "it". "CSI: Miami" is "it".

I am cookoo for "The Venture Bros." cocoa puffs. It is the bee's retro knees. But the cartoon acting's not nearly as remarkable as "CSI: Miami"'s.

If I see one more lame local dealer car commercial, they're going to have to get that M.E. that used to be on "NewsRadio" and is now on "CSI: Miami" who was once held hostage by the guy who killed the dude who had a security system on his bedroom and a secret molesty room to which he lured wee lads a la Michael Jackson to help identify the car dealer's body. It won't matter which one, just so long as one of them leaves my bedtime reruns alone.

Uh, and a bunch of other stuff that doesn't really tie to "CSI: Miami" but that I will somehow, weakly, pull together.

Our Card

"I had a dream
A dream for guess who, Lydia
It wasn't for her, Lydia
It's only for you, yes, Lydia
Some people can get their kicks watching Koppel and late-night flicks
That's okay for some people who don't own VCRs
But Lydia, you've won the grand prize
Just think of it
All the movies you'll watch for free now
Dramas, westerns, comedies, wow
Video Spot has the best selection
If you like porno we're your connection
And everything's coming up videos
Everything's coming up videos this time for free
For you, Lydia
For FREE!"

The Pelican Is For Marksmanship And The Gorilla Is For Sandracing

WWWWD?

I admit it. I've had a long-standing crush on Wil Wheaton. And sometimes I read his blog. But it's rare. I am far more interested in how I can become friends with Lindsay Lohan and talk her off the ledge she's put herself on. (I really am concerned for the girl and completely agree with this and feel that far better than Kate Moss, I am oracle at who's feet she should be sitting. We're redheads! We're like kin! The only coke I've had is from a can!)

I digress.

Wil Wheaton and I have a long, storied, incredibly distant history. I was the lone girl swooning over him during "Stand By Me" (Phoenix was too broody and troubled). I was the only soul mooning over him during the "Next Generation" days (and the only girl who watched the show that I knew). I was the solitary Cor Jesu freshman who had his picture in her locker (take that, Johnny Depp!). I was the renegade who made her mother take her to see him at a personal appearance at Crestwood Mall (despite the fact that said mother was on a heart monitor for the near heart attack I had given her swimming out to dolphins in North Carolina [again, digression]).

Let's just be clear and state for the record that I thought he was cute and really wanted him to be my boyfriend. I imagine that back then that meant we'd make friendship bracelets for each other, listen to Oingo Boingo tapes, ride our bikes up to the Walgreens and get Cadbury Fruit and Nut bars and nail polish pens, and watch "Remote Control" on MTV.

Since then I've grown a bit emotionally. I have a real boyfriend and needent tear fake ones out of Bop magazine. But there's still that little tug when there's a Wheaton mention. My friend Marty, a poker player, ran into him at a tournament and texted me about it and it was like I was 14 again. So, no more collaging his head in with copy from Seventeen or Surfer magazine, but I still firmly believe he would have made a great high school boyfriend.