You Come At The King, You Best Not Miss

I don't care whatch'all think. Omar totally steals that show.

Bonne Anniversaire, My Wife

I hope you enjoy the leopard print Vespa I got you.

Love,
Gabbana

I'd Like To Ace His Deuce, If You Catch My Meaning

I'm not what you'd call a "sports fan". Certainly I'm KO'd by Olympic fever every couple of years, but to me, that's quite different from the usual weekly fare. First off, I get to brush up on my flags of many nations identification skills and secondly, I get to realize my affinity for things not normally covered like the biathlon the bobsled and thirdly, there's about 1,000 other reasons I love the Olympics, but this is not a post about the Games. Those will come in 2008.

So, yeah, sports. I have never found myself interested in those that end in "ball" - basket, base, foot. They've never been my cup of tea as they seem too repetitive, too slow, too homoerotic. Sure, I had that dalliance with college basketball during the Duke domination years, but let's face it, that's solely because Christian Laettner was such a dreamboat and because I so desperately wanted to go to Duke at the time. Since then, I've occasionally been forced to feign interest in them due to boyfriends or parties or because I'm actually at a game. I think I could like hockey because it's always cool in the arena, but the only parts that interest me are when the teams change lines or they get into a brawl. Other than that, it's too hard for me to see the puck and my attention drifts to people watching.

But there is one sport I've always enjoyed, one I've tried on many occasions to learn, and that sport is tennis. Yes, I do have a crush on Roger Federer, but that's because he's so sublime. He embodies what tennis should mean - manners, good looking in white clothes, grace under pressure. That's tennis. Now, his occasional nemesis, Rafael Nadal is a good player, but he's too aggressive and certainly too much of an ass-picker for my liking (seriously, he tugs at his crack more times per match than he lands aces). Plus, Roger is the portrait of stoic swatting as he never ooogahs like the rest of the players - honestly, do they have to grunt everytime they put racquet to ball? So, why have I never taken up the second favorite sport of Palm Beach? Well, it all started back in the day when my Cranial Gravitational Pull was in full effect.

You see, I have an ailment. One so insidious that all sports took a dark cast - every pop-fly was cause for concern; every lay-up another moment to dodge out of the way; and speaking of "dodge", let's not even begin to discuss the torment wrought in that arena. Cranial Gravitational Pull (CGP) is a disorder in which a cranium, in this case, mine, is gravitationally stronger than the area around it causing all round, airborne objects to be pulled in its direction. Hit in the head with a basketball? Check. Volleyball? Definitely. Softball? You know it. Tennis ball? Got a black eye. So, as a youth, all the rites of passage involving team spirit were lost on me because I was usually way the hell out in left field or warming the bench while those without CGP were off enjoying base hits and whatnot. Now certainly the CGP wasn't the only thing standing in my way. I failed spectacularly at gymnastics (springboarded straight into the vault and still can't do a back walk-over) and there aren't any balls there (no snickering). And, to be truthful, I think I rather enjoyed my ailment's benefits - a nice, stress-free afternoon sitting out in the grass or sitting over on the bench. As I got older, those stress-free afternoons involved sitting next to the cooler of beer so really, is it all that terrible?

Well, when it comes to the tennis court, yes, it is. I desperately want a cute little tennis outfit, my own little racquet bag, maybe even a visor. And all fashion aside, I especially want to lob and volley and backhand and ace like Roger. (Maybe even with Roger, but as I told Henry, it's probably better if I don't learn and can use my "I wouldn't recognize a sports figure if they told me point-blank they pitch for the Cardinals" routine [which isn't so much a routine as general ignorance].) I want to trot out to a close-clipped grass court and swat little white tennis balls like Lucy Honeychurch. And I'm trying. I've gotten myself a really ripping badminton set for the lawn and have at least been able to play moderately well, when I can find an opponent. I've also noticed that at the last baseball game I attended there weren't any line drives headed straight for my sightline. Perhaps, like some allergies, CGP dimishes over the years and I just might end up at 40-love someday. Just don't expect me to be standing in centerfield for your summer league. I'm far too happy over by the beer cooler.

60 Years of Christian Dior

Well, I think we know by now that I'm not the biggest Galliano fan, which is to say, I do not doubt his ability to create, I just don't always enjoy his vision. Yesterday was the show celebrating the 60th anniversary of the House of Christian Dior and while I see the vision - the harlequin, the sweepingly dramatic dresses, the wasp waisted suit - I just wish he wouldn't turn his models into drag queens.

Seriously. He turned gloriously beautiful Kim Noorda into Lady Bunny with two swooshy eyebrows and a shit-ton of blue shadow. But she wasn't the only one that ended up looking wretched. Linda Evangelista and Naomi Campbell were looking a little worse for wear on the runway and poor Angela Lindvall ended up cast as a fur-trimmed Miss Ellie from "Dallas".

But, all that being said, there were sublime moments like the dress Lily Bart might have worn popping up on Vlada.

And a stunning ensemble that would have been perfect on Lisa Fonssagrives.

The colors were simply astounding. Petal pinks, icy blues, blood reds, café mocha shades that slid into cinnamons, minty greens and lavenders! It was a cavalcade of shades that were absolutely pitch perfect and rendered in not only gloriously crafted gowns, but also in the hair ornaments and jewelry that made me long to be regal or bound for a ball sometime in the future.

And just as I was beginning to think I might be able to get past the model gawking and just focus on the fashion and that I might actually start to like Galliano, it came crashing down when he came out to take his bow.

So, sufficient to say, I'd love to raid his atelier and jewelry box, but I'll be steering quite clear of his makeup table and his personal closet.

It Was Only A Matter Of Time

before I found the Seal Generator.

Ping-A-Ling

I just installed a sitemeter on this here deal because, well, I really don't know why but it seemed like everyone else had one so why not? Plus, uh, it's free.

The thing is, I'm a luddite when it comes to this crap and haven't a clue who/what/where/when/why/how people come to my blog save the people that know me (Hey you 6!). Apparently, this here sitemeter can tell you how these people got here beyond thinking, "That OAA, she's really somekindasomethin'. Let's see what she's up to, shall we?" So, how did they get here? Well, they searched for these things:

jami getz (alias for "The Lost Boys" star, obvs.)
gothic arsehole ("A.D." fan or misguided S&M devotee?)
chanice booty (I got nothin'.)
drink your juice shelby (!!!Please tell me you use this as often as I do, person in Georgia!!!)
spanish translation (stunning since the only thing I can do in Spanish is order at Taco Bell and ask for more shoes.)

Also, people are still getting to the OAA via my brother's blog despite the fact that it's been dormant lo these 8 months. So, with all this mania in mind, I'm going to add in some strange word combos that just might get me to come up in strange word combo searches here:

rickets in space
lime carriage
muffintop madness!
transgenerational directives
poodle scroodle
bubble and squeak (real thing, still a strange combo)
scoot hooters
boss of the bedclothes
Margaritaville City Councilman

So, let's see if those get me any pings!

Things, They Happen

List of things that have happened recently, noteworthy or otherwise.

1. Finished watching season 3 of "Deadwood" and would like to issue the following hearty letter to the folks at HBO:

Dear Folks at HBO,

Please don't consider this a threat, but if you don't make/air/package/deliver to me those "Deadwood" movies you promised, I will come out there, I will determine just which toothbrush is yours, and I will drop said toothbrush into the nearest toilet. I will then replace that toothbrush to its original location and you will be brushing your teeth from then on with toilet-tainted toothbrushes. And that's just the start of my subtle abuse of your persons.

How you could take THIS away from me is unconscionable.

Sincerely,
OAA

2. I just crammed 13 grapes in my mouth. The key to cramming grapes is to invite people who are not prone to fits of the giggles to watch you as inviting others that do just might lead to the Heimlich.

3. Today my client called Abe Vigoda a "sexy bitch". And really, I have to agree.

4. Fletcher: I bet that waterfall at that cave pool is really spectacular right now.

5. Words I need to start using more: boffo, elemental, verve, spelunk, capitulate.

6. I recently finished reading The Glass Castle which was really good but the title constantly reminds me of that boffo episode of "Arrested Development" in which David Cross instructs the Cockney cabbie to take him to "The Gothic Castle" which he hears as "The Gothic Arsehole" which is, in fact, a very gay bar. As a result, The Glass Castle always becomes The Glass Arsehole in my mind. And I picture David Cross in his leather daddy gear.

And that about sums it up.

Look At Him...Sittin' On That Stool Like He's Doin' It A Favor

The best entire SNL episode ever? Why, I vote April 21st, 1990!

Somewhere, that baby's still on tape just waiting for me to unearth it and share it with the world. But until then, you'll have to tide yourselves over with this audio-challenged vid of one of my favorite sketches featuring host Alec Baldwin and Jan Hooks.

This Is Still One Of My Favorite Pieces Of Advice

Our copywriter at work told me this story and it's still one of my all-time favorites. He heard this little gem outside on the sidewalk one day while eavesdropping on an older man laying down the knowledge to a younger dude:

"See, you don't need to be carryin' no gun. What you need to do, is carry a snake. Say a guy pulls a gun on you--you throw a snake at him. What's he gonna do? He's gonna run, that's what he'll do. And he'll probably drop the gun. Ya see, there's just some things people is scared of. And snakes is one of 'em."

Truth.

It's Your Turn, America!

Now's your chance to make a decision that will impact the Abler archives for years to come! Should Henry title his slip sleeve of old birthday party negatives based on the antiquated name given by those not in touch with today's politically correct lifestyle or should he select one that fully illustrates just how far we as a nation have come and select my idea? It's your choice, America! Vote and make your voice heard!
(I cannot guarantee that said party will name said slip sleeve based on the poll's results, but you guys should be used to electoral disappointment by now.)

Amy Tour Of Texas: My Hair Hurts And Keep Your Hands Off My Geegaws!

So, as some of you may know, I just took a vacation to Texas to visit two lovely girls - both named Amy. This certainly makes for a fun trip as both are Amy Katherines and both are sheer delights and dear friends. Most of the time was spent reminiscing and talking for hours and hours, but since that certainly doesn't make for an interesting blog post, I thought it might be good to share a bit of the exciting aspects of the tour.

BY THE NUMBERS
ONE: photos of Scott Foley spotted in a Ladue High yearbook which naturally makes me 3 degrees away from Jennifer Garner, Michael Jackson sing-a-longs attended, 1,000-year-old tree visited, professional massages received, Zilker Zephyr rides, outdoor showers taken
TWO: "live croaker" flags, laps swum in my beautiful new pool at LASR, deer leaping the fence in Lamar, watches of the Gladys Hardy phone call on "Ellen"
THREE: fire ant bites, overeating occurances, animals that didn't rile my allergies thanks to Singulair
FOUR: "Talladega Nights" lines quoted, Amys involved (hey Budget Rental girl!), pelican photos taken to torment Double E, new friends made (shout out to Holly, Bonner, Rochelle & Jenny!), road trips taken, park visits
FIVE: golden rings (there weren't any good fives)
SIX: times we ran up and down the sidewalk to watch a building dance performance
SEVENTY TWELVE: dolphin spottings at Clarks in Port O'Connor

And I simply have to mention the swoonable food: garden burger combo with lemonade at P.Terrys, vegetarian Frito Pie at Shady Grove, a potatoey thing from Malaga, pecan pie a la mode at Shady Grove, cocktail sauce (on fried shrimp) at Clarks, slap-yo-momma-it's-so-good Indian at The Clay Pit, breakfast tacos & fried green tomatoes at that funny little diner where our server from Club DeVille was working, and a big ol' pile of Mexican consumed in Victoria.

The unfortunate downsides of all this frivolity: TSA taking my dilled green beans (BASTARDS!!), having to leave the Amys

So, that's about it. Need more? Want pictures? Go here!

My Compliments To The Chef

He cooked up a great Texas vacation for me and soon...very soon...there will be details on said vacation. Until then, I'd like all the obviously deranged who fancy Jude Law and wouldn't hesitate if asked to make out with him to feast their eyes on these specimens illustrating exactly why Mr. Law will never be within 50 feet of me.

Irresponsible.

After a couple of long weeks at the office, we took a washer break today at lunch. You know, hoosier horseshoes? Anyway, we enjoyed a nice hour (or so) out at Tower Grove Park with some AB products and some fun in the sun. The problem? I got sunburned.

Whoops.

Stealing

Just like The Wife's list, I'm making a list of 100 favorite things. In order to not be unduly influenced by her list, I've slowly been thinking about these things while completely avoiding her blog. (I'm so succeptible to suggestion!)

Alexander McQueen's Scanners collection
Alice in Wonderland
Animal shows for children
Anthropologie
Antique maps
Aquavit
Audrey Hepburn
Aunt Dan & Lemon
Autumn
Balloons
Bid Me To Live
Birds walking
Blankets
Boats
Brock Samson
Braids
Brunch at Duff's
Carousels
Cheese pizza
Christmas tree smell
"Cinema Paradiso"
Cirque du Soleil
Clouds
Colored file folders
Condiment aisles at grocery stores
Edgar
Eels' "Electro-Shock Blues"
Egg salad
Fashion magazines
Field trips
Fireplaces
Fountain pens
Frank Gehry's carp
Games
Giving compliments
Glasses
Gregory Crewdson
Heartland Cafe in Chicago
High heels
High tea
The House of Mirth
Hula Hoops, the snack
Irish milk
Jaguar E-types
Jake's in Jamaica
Jean Shrimpton
John William Waterhouse's "The Lady of Shalott"
Libraries
Light blue and red
Lily of the Valley
Limeade
Lobster creole
London, England
Lucy Honeychurch
Martini glasses
Mashed potatoes
Maurizio Cattelan's "Bidibidobidiboo"
Medical books
Mix Tapes/CDs
Mosquito nets
Mr. Wayne Loui
My birthday
My grandmother's bedroom set
My iPod
My old wool gabardine J.Crew dress
Old photographs
Older people
Olympic fever
Orangutans
Picnics
Pool toy smell
The porch of the Grand Hotel
Pulp (band, not the noun)
Radiohead's "OK Computer"
Ribbons
Road trips
Roller coasters
Saturn
Saturn's moon Iapetus
Shalom Harlow
Sheldrick Wildlife Trust
Sleeping
Smithwick's
Snowy nights
Sofia Sparkling Wine
Steve Martin
The Sun Also Rises
Swimming
T.S. Eliot
Tangerines
Tea & Sympathy in NYC
Tea sets, especially my ocean creatures set
The Divine Comedy (the band, not the book)
The Scottish Arms
The Standard on Sunset in LA
Tom Collinses
"Twin Peaks"
Waves
Wings
Wood paneled rooms

Great. Now I have to like him.

Ben Affleck actually makes me wonder if maybe I've been wrong about him all along.

Plus, I watched "The Departed" this weekend and thought Leonardo DiCaprio did a great job in it, although the movie itself is pretty meh. And I also watched "Pride and Prejudice" and found myself really liking Keira Knightley. Not that I really didn't like either of those people, but never found reason to like them. Those performances, however, are making me think that maybe I should start embracing them too.

God. Let's hope Renee Zellweger doesn't pull any humanitarian/good acting stunts soon or I'm done for.

Hey L.A.!

"Hooch & Daddy-O" will screen at the 2007 MockFest on Saturday, June 2nd @ 1 PM at the Vine Theatre on Hollywood Blvd.

And yes. I will be in it making this exact face.

No One Belongs Here More Than The Ping Pong Stove

I'll admit it. I only kinda liked Miranda July's film "Me and You and Everyone We Know". But that's only because I only kinda liked some of the characters and in a totally character driven piece, I need to like all the characters or need to really hate at least some of them to make me fully satisfied. And also it moved a little slow for me. Not that I need things to move fast. I actually like things that move a little slow and let you think about what's happening like "Trois Couleurs: Bleu" which definitely moves slow, but in a fulfilling sort of way. Her film just moved slowly because, I don't know, Miranda July was savoring pudding that day or something. Her mind seems to be as random and fluffy as my own so I can see her slowing down to enjoy some butterscotch pudding and thinking that the movie needed to move at that pace. And since she was the director, well, she had that kinda power.

Now she's got a book which has a website which is just grand. I really like it a lot and now I wish I had an old style stove like hers so I could write notes on it. I've got one of those all-burners-no-spoon-rest type stoves which I like a lot but which Tina calls the Ping Pong Stove because it intermittently pops while it's cooking and makes a sound like a really far away ping pong ball being hit in a super slow match. But I like the sound. It's the sound of things warming up and getting ready to be eaten. And I like that it's a slow ping pong stove because, like I said, I'm okay with things moving slowly as long as it's in a fulfilling sort of way.

Racist Bastard

I doubt the logic behind this statement and would like to thwack Stefano Pilati in the face with one of his over-sized, over-priced handbags. And look at that face! So utterly punchable!
Ban YSL!

His pouty Zoolander face came from here.

Sad Songs They Say *sniff* So *whimper* Much (Insert Bawling Here), Part 2

We already know what #1 is, but today, inspired by Spinner's list of 25, I made a list of my 10. There's more, most certainly, but I've got too much work to do to add another 15.

1. “The Drugs Don’t Work” by The Verve
Holy crap, don’t even get me started or I’ll start crying right here and now. Sad, sad, sad song about someone slowly dying that gets me every time. This is, not doubt about it, the saddest song ever.

2. “I Didn’t Understand” by Elliott Smith
It’s even sadder now that he’s mysteriously dead. Well, the death isn’t a mystery. It’s how he died that’s mysterious. Still, dead depressed person formerly addicted to heroin with a pretty soul who wrote incredible lyrics = sad.

3. “They Can’t Take That Away From Me” by Fred Astaire
Not a song man, more a dance man, but this version of this song is just a sweet and poignant good-bye.

4. “If You Go Away” by Emiliana Torrini
It’s a remake of “Ne Me Quitte Pas” which is sad in and of itself, but this Icelandic sprite has changed the lyrics and made them even more weepy.

5. “Slow Tango” by Jane Siberry
CHRIST this song is sad.

6. “Fast Car” by Tracy Chapman
This is a situational thing. It reminds me of the summer after 8th grade when my family went to Hilton Head with my best friend at the time. The song was everywhere and it just calls to mind reading The Scarlet Letter and wondering a lot if Jennifer and I would still be friends after we started high school. It’s also a super sad song about dreams not coming true, incidentally.

7. Untitled song from R.E.M’s Green album
Totally a personal thing. My friend Chris was leaving for the circus (long, long story) and this was on a tape that he made me.

8. “I’ve Seen It All” by Bjork, from the movie “Dancer In The Dark”
If you haven’t seen this movie, up your dose of Thorazine and rent it. You’re going to need those numbing pills just to get through it. I’ve basically forbidden myself from watching it ever again because the last time I saw it I cried so much I used an entire box of Kleenex. I’m not kidding. An. Entire. Box. This song comes when you realize that no matter what happens, Bjork’s character's not coming out of this in a good place.

9. “Dream A Little Dream Of Me” by any number of people
Who knows why I think this song is sad? I just do.

10. “Strange Fruit” by Billie Holiday
Probably the saddest sad song about something I can’t even comprehend that happened less than a lifetime ago. All the other songs about love and loss can’t compare to the sad history this song relates.

Pat McGrath Saved Henry's Job Today

Sometimes I have very strange, very amusing dreams. This morning was no exception. See, H was up super early yesterday and had an 18 hour long day (and having those previously, they are wretched even without having to fly to and from DFW) so he was rather tired when we finally fell asleep at midnight. He had to get up rather early to be at work at 7:30a and the alarm was set for 6a.

The alarm went off and I, ignorant of time/reality in the morning, returned to sleep which is when I had this dream.

I was at Shalom Harlow's house. And, you know, we were making pies. It was a cute little farmy cottage in Canada and we were talking and generally being friends and rolling dough and had flour on our noses and the usual stuff I do when Shalom asks me over. After a bit of this domesticity, the door bell rings and Pat McGrath, famous makeup artist is there. Shalom squeals and tells me that Pat's going to do our makeup, just 'cuz. Hey, it's a dream, I'm at a supermodel's house making pies. Don't ask why we'd need fresh, professionally applied makeup for this. So, Pat's in, Shalom's first, and the three of us are girl talking. Then, it's my turn and Pat and I are talking lipstick. See, I've been looking for this lipstick that's not quite glossy, not quite matte, in just the right plummy shade of wine. But I can't find it. So, naturally, Pat pulls out a NARS lip palette and in it is the prefect shade in the perfect texture. I'm marveling over it and notice there's all the normal shades in this palette - coral, pale pink, rich red, etc. - and there's a few more odd ones like a pale green. I ask Pat (yes, first name basis) what the green is for, exactly. She tells me to open my mouth wide and she puts a wee bit on her lip brush and applies it way at the back of my mouth on my tonue. I let her do it and when she's done I ask her again, "So, what's the green used for then?" She looks me straight in the eye and says, "So you can open your mouth wider." "Open my mouth wider?" "Yes. So you can tell your boyfriend he's oversleeping."

I woke up, H was oversleeping, it was 7:03a. He basically had ten minutes. Pat saved the day. Thanks, Pat.