Now Bow Your Heads And Pretend To Be Serious

I was asked today to make a giant cup for a client and all I could think of was Master Shake. And then I find out "Aqua Teen" was part of a bomb scare in Boston.

Bostonites, calm the hell down. It's a cartoon. I stayed in The Standard across from an LED Ignignokt for days and never flipped my wig. Chill. He's got a quad laser, yes, but he's also a drawing. Deep breaths, Boston, deep breaths.

Hey Rocky, Watch Me Pull A Rabbit Out Of My Ass

I read in the Fashion Addict Diary comments re: American Vogue's astonishingly pathetic cover for February that Camille Paglia once described Renée Zellweger as a "twinkly dishrag". Taking delight in all things anti-Zellweger (loyal OAAers shall recall that I've devoted my misplaced loathing to Miss R.Z. after having an all too real dream about former loathee Gwyneth Paltrow), I had to look that quote up. And so, here it is:

Bergen gets more humor out of slamming a coffee can into a grocery basket in this film than that twinkly, wet dishrag, Renée Zellweger, could get out of an entire script.

Hasenfeffer incorporated, indeed.

(source: Salon.com)

It's Here! It's Here!

I have received my summons and start on February 5th. I've begun charging my iPod and DS Lite and am organizing all my arts & crafts projects to take along. My briefcase already has my playing cards so I just need to pack my Uno deck, a book, and some snacks and I'm set!

Oh, how I love thee, Jury Duty! Two free days of forced alone time and the potential to be selected for a trial! Swoon!

We're Your Dream, Girls

It's time again, ladies. Only a few days to get ready for another season of New York Fashion. As Stanley Tucci so eloquently put it in "The Devil Wears Prada", gird your loins.

(Calendar taken from the delicious COACD.)

Banner Day For The Past

Today Marky Mark was nominated for an Oscar. To commemorate this auspicious occasion, I'm going to be listening to "Party All The Time" by his fellow nominee, Eddie Murphy.

A toast to these two great American actors!

Big Fuckin' Q

My friends, this is the only ride worth taking. And note, it's not red. It's green. Sweet green NyQuil.

I am bogged down with a wrteched cold currently and look forward to 8pm so I can dose up for the night and cozy down in bed with blankets and pillows and sleep it all off. Mmmm...NyQuil.

STL Lit Society, Meeting 1 for 2007

If you're in the STL and like wine first and reading second, this is the book club for you! If you're on the Evite list, than you already got this, but if you're not and are dying to drink and kinda discuss a book, here's something you might be interested in:

First, let's just establish that no one broke the book club.

Second, we've got a new format for this thing. You now have two months to read the book. For fast readers, wait a bit to begin. For slow readers, get started today.

Third, for the first four books, we'll be using suggestions from the past that were never selected all of which must be under 400 pages.

Fourth, during the off month (for example, February), we'll have a movie night during which we'll meet at the Moolah, Tivoli, or Chase Theaters, see the movie, and talk it out following.

Fifth, our standard meeting place is still Brennan's where there will still be wine drinking. (Thank god.)

So, without further ado, our first book for 2007 is....

WISE CHILDREN by Angela Carter

A great read, the novel is told from the point of view of Dora & Nora Chance, two very wise children indeed. Lots of Britishisms in this one so flip on BBC America for background noise. At 240 pages this is well below our limit and is a Julie Layton favorite and her perennial book club suggestion! It's finally time, Julie!

The date has been filled in on this invite so get reading!

Wanna come? Email me and I'll send you the full details.

Darfur And What To Do, Uberlist #50

I've been so swept up in my Bush hating lately, I've forgotten about the greater world and its struggles. But always in the back of my mind has been the crisis in Darfur and how I can help. So, I did a little research and thought I'd share.

First, find out just what's happening and why it's so horrible at Wikipedia. They have many links to click on to learn more.

I know there's been a Dave Eggers backlash as of late, but he wrote What Is The What about a Sudanese refugee and all the proceeds go to the Valentino Achak Deng Foundation designed to benefit the Sudanese people. Learn more and give back simlutaneously.

And McSweeney's had also gathered all the things you can do to help on this handy little page. Click on it and do what you can even if it's just learning more and being aware.

Better Luck Next Year

I am 18% White Trash.

I, my friend, have class. I am so not white trash. . I am more than likely Democrat, and my place is neat, and there is a good chance I may never drink wine from a box.

Take the
White Trash Test
@ FualiDotCom

After watching "Talledega Nights" and ending up with my brain stuck in hick mode, Bethany thought this test might help me suss out whether I am in fact white trashy or just a little obsessed with Texas Ranger's lines. Seems my love for uttering "I'm gonna come at you like a spider monkey" is just a passing fancy. C'est la vie.

Back In The Day

I was in "Plan 9 From Outer Space" for the Magic Smoking Monkey Theater. I played the wife, Paula, who utters such amazing, life-altering lines as, "The saucers are up there. The graveyard is out there. But I'll be safely locked up in there." There I am looking horrified at the arrival of Vampira, Tor Johnson, and Dr. Tom, the faux-Bela Lugosi. And below that shot is a classic - Oscar and Jim looking horrified at the arrival of Melissa.

Ahhh....good times.

Wax Aguilera Looks More Like My Cousin Jennifer Than Actual Aguilera

American Idiots

I'm surrounded today. Is there something in the water?

The Holiday Season Is Going To The Dogs

Not once throughout the long, painful holiday season did anyone offer me a slice of fruitcake and I actually love the stuff. Bummer.

King Solomon's Plan For Longboria

I really don't know what to say about this look. The jeweled strap/bustier combo would have been enough, but then they added a line for the waist and a line for the calves and I am so puzzled as to why. Is it so they know where to cut when they divide her up?

Clever Ways To Hide Your Eating Disorder

First, wear white because everyone knows black is slimming and white, especially in pant and skinny cut skirt form, makes you look fatter. Score one for the Reverse Psychology team.

Second, make sure your dress has a tube attached for hiding the food you don't eat. This is a perfect example. You can now take a roll, slather it with butter, pretend to bring it up to your mouth, laugh a little too hard at someone's joke, turn to share your chuckle with your neighbor to fully distract, and slip that roll over your right shoulder and into your dress tube. Repeat. Then, when you have to go to the ladies' room, simply stand up and all those rolls just brush past your leg and onto the floor where you can just kick them under the table. It's perfect. It's like a cornucopia dumptruck.

Third, just keep telling everyone you're skinny because you just can't gain weight. It worked for Nicole, right?

(alternate concept: the tube is really just a fart vacuum.)

Two Words

Fright. Wig.

Dead. Poodle.

Light. Socket.

Bad. Weave.

Crazyass. Hairdo.

You can pick your favorite.

I Don't Know Either

Can I see her foundation garment through the shimmery sheers J.Lo.Hew. bought at Linens N Things on their $5.99 sale rack? Can I? I really don't know. And I also don't know why she insisted on picking up that wreath bow and wearing it around her waist. Look, J.Lo.Hew., just because the holiday stuff is on serious markdown doesn't mean you have to have it. I've struggled with that concept for years and feel that now it's time to pass my knowledge on to you.

Aunt Dete Wouldn't Stand For It

A few notes on this scandal:
1. why is she there?
2. her dress, I'll begrudgingly admit, is amazing, although that had very little to do with her and a lot to do with its designer, but nevertheless.
3. who the hell let Alm-Grandfather pull her away from Peter and the goats for such a frivolous evening? It's far too late a night for a young Swiss girl. And the drinking! And the Clooney? Oh, Alm-Grandfather. Heidi should be at home hand-crafting Hummels or something.
4. I know Hummels are German and Heidi's Swiss, but they're really dang close, save the aggression and the neutrality thing.
5. why is she there again?

Jessica McClintock Called

She was just so excited that her 1987 prom frock was being recycled for Michael Bolton's date. And, honestly, who can blame her. Thrills like that come along once in a lifetime.

THEY'RE HERE!

RUN FOR YOUR LIVES! THE ALIEN PODS ARE WAKING! FLEE THE BEVERLY HILTON! OH GOD! MY GREATEST FEAR HAS COME TRUE!

Oy With The Poodles Already!

I can't stand the "Gilmore Girls". They suck me in and make me regret the fact that I didn't get knocked up at 16 and have a little girl and live in an adorable, quirky town. How unfair of them.

The Mikado/Act II/Part II

The sun, whose rays
Are all ablaze
With ever-living glory,
Does not deny
His majesty--
He scorns to tell a story!
He don't exclaim,
"I blush for shame,
So kindly be indulgent."
But, fierce and bold,
In fiery gold,
He glories all effulgent!


I mean to rule the earth,
As he the sky--
We really know our worth,
The sun and I!


Observe his flame,
That placid dame,
The moon's Celestial Highness;
There's not a trace
Upon her face
Of diffidence or shyness:
She borrows light
That, through the night,
Mankind may all acclaim her!
And, truth to tell,
She lights up well,
So I, for one, don't blame her!


Ah, pray make no mistake,
We are not shy;
We're very wide awake,
The moon and I!

FOUND!

What a relief.

Humanity Is Not A Stinking Cesspool After All

from the New York Times
By Cara Buckley
Published: January 3, 2007



Who has ridden along New York’s 656 miles of subway lines and not wondered: “What if I fell to the tracks as a train came in? What would I do?”

And who has not thought: “What if someone else fell? Would I jump to the rescue?”

Wesley Autrey, a 50-year-old construction worker and Navy veteran, faced both those questions in a flashing instant yesterday, and got his answers almost as quickly.

Mr. Autrey was waiting for the downtown local at 137th Street and Broadway in Manhattan around 12:45 p.m. He was taking his two daughters, Syshe, 4, and Shuqui, 6, home before work.

Nearby, a man collapsed, his body convulsing. Mr. Autrey and two women rushed to help, he said. The man, Cameron Hollopeter, 20, managed to get up, but then stumbled to the platform edge and fell to the tracks, between the two rails.

The headlights of the No. 1 train appeared. “I had to make a split decision,” Mr. Autrey said.

So he made one, and leapt.

Mr. Autrey lay on Mr. Hollopeter, his heart pounding, pressing him down in a space roughly a foot deep. The train’s brakes screeched, but it could not stop in time.

Five cars rolled overhead before the train stopped, the cars passing inches from his head, smudging his blue knit cap with grease. Mr. Autrey heard onlookers’ screams. “We’re O.K. down here,” he yelled, “but I’ve got two daughters up there. Let them know their father’s O.K.” He heard cries of wonder, and applause.

Power was cut, and workers got them out. Mr. Hollopeter, a student at the New York Film Academy, was taken to St. Luke’s-Roosevelt Hospital Center. He had only bumps and bruises, said his grandfather, Jeff Friedman. The police said it appeared that Mr. Hollopeter had suffered a seizure.

Mr. Autrey refused medical help, because, he said, nothing was wrong. He did visit Mr. Hollopeter in the hospital before heading to his night shift. “I don’t feel like I did something spectacular; I just saw someone who needed help,” Mr. Autrey said. “I did what I felt was right.”

Uberlist: Read 12 New Books (No Rereads!)

If they're all this easy, I'm definitely crossing this off the Uberlist.

For those that don't know about these books, they're absolutely charming, if a bit depressing for the wee Baudelaire children. I read this one in about an hour and a half last night and am ready for book the second. Sadly, they cost twice as much as a movie and are nearly half as long. But, they're just wonderful and were I nine, these would definitely be my favorite books.

As for the rest of the Uberlist, I may publish it, I may not. It's just now at 50 and I don't want to jinx things.

Bridges. Part One.

Ages ago, Kelly Sue DeConnick asked me to write something for a 'zine she was doing. Each publication had a theme and the one she asked me to contribute to was "Bridges". Naturally, this could be anything related to bridges - a crossing, a change, a transition, building them, burning them, whatev'. I like to think I took the road less traveled and wrote mine about a certain child star - one Todd Bridges. I discovered my story while cleaning yesterday and thought it might be fun to share it. It's way too long for one post so I'll break it up over the week. And now, without further ado...


"Look upon my works, ye mighty, and tremble."
- Ozymandias by Percy Bysshe Shelley

"Whatchootalkin'bout, Willis?"
- Arnold Drummond, "Diff'rent Strokes"

It's been nearly two years since I limbered up my hamstrings with the aid of a nearby oak tree and noticed a bit of a crowd had amassed near the pledge table. The fact that this was the yearly run-a-thon for the A Nose Ahead organization, of which there are 126 members nationwide, led me to believe this anomaly had nothing to do with folks donating funds to aid those with rhinoplasty aspirations, but rather with the man about which the throng had gathered. I tugged up my tube socks and crossed the bike path to investigate thoroughly.

The cigarette scarred card table had been completely surrounded thus blocking the "Everyone Deserves A Chance To Change" sign I had stayed up until the end of "Deep Space Nine" to finish. I regrettably became a bit miffed and started aggressively shifting autograph-seeking standersby out of the way of the construction paper masterpiece when my left palm came into direct contact with the right cheekbone of one of America's fallen sweethearts. "Hey there!", he shouted and backed into the card table spilling pledge sheets and golf pencils that had been liberated from the iron fist of the fascists at Tower Tee Mini Gold Course/Batting Cage Emporium. I turned with annoyance from the sight of the miniature bits of #2 lead scattered all over the grass to see just who dared to destroy the biggest rhinoplasty fundraiser of the year and there he was in all his reformed crack addict glory, glistening with a light layer of perspiration and swaddled in nylon jogging suit. Our eyes met and in that defining moment, all the anger and tension was replaced with the potent mix of love and sympathy that had turned me into the proud winner of the Underdog Award for Most Prolific Fundraiser of 1989. He immediately placed his hand in the path of my on-coming right hook and we stood there, locked in an embrace of peace, for what seemed like 12.3 seconds when he broke the silence. "You're raising money for nose jobs?", he asked. It was then that I realized that he and I had a deeper connection than an other. We were both lost in a world that could make no place for us. A world that only thought the wealthy and media-savvy deserved its attention. A world where a washed-up child star and an overzealous philanthropist for obscure causes could find love. The onlookers, uninterested in things less than sensationalistic continued to wend their way along the bike bath leaving us virtually alone with the run-a-thon gone awry.