on thanksgiving, a man of mixed ethnicity and his pretty blonde wife had a big fight because she thinks he be running around on her with a ho. she scratched at his face and no doubt was screaming like a krazee lady. he's a lot bigger. in hysteria she grabbed a totem meaningful to him and started swinging.
he decided to get away from his wife-now-insane-biatch and jumped in his car. she kept whirling and knocked the windows out.
it was late. he'd already taken some painkillers for bedtime. he crashed his car into a fire hydrant and then a tree.
so like plenty of poors on thanksgiving, their richy-rich house was full of emotional firestorms, recriminations, tears and violence.
they both insist nothing happened and are not talking to the cops or the media. see? just like you and me. "my wife didn't assault me, she was a hero and saved me from a non-dangerous car wreck, where i was woozy, not from the impact, but from pills! none of your beeswax where i was going, zonked on meds, at 2:30 in the morning."
the not rich person in the story? the ho in question? has hired professional harridan gloria alred as her attorney. yup, nothing to hide on her end except the whoring for media deals right now. see? not like you and me.
Monday, November 30, 2009
so many kinds of just plain wrong
the genius who got z-listers like danny bonaduce and tanya harding into the boxing ring has pulled a stunner.
he went in search of amy fisher. remember the long island lolita who blew a hole in the face of the wife of her married and grossly older guido boyfriend? the one that was the subject of not one, but THREE, made for tv movies (one with drew barrymore and one with alyssa milano) and countless hours of hard copy? yeah, that one.
at the house he meets her new boobs and her husband. an ex-cop.
oh to be a fly on the wall.
book your acela tix for december 18th to philly.
her husband, yes, a former police officer, will "fight" rodney king. yeah, that guy. the one who was on the receiving end of one the most infamous cop beat-downs of our time.
there is no longer lead in the water. why is everyone insane?
he went in search of amy fisher. remember the long island lolita who blew a hole in the face of the wife of her married and grossly older guido boyfriend? the one that was the subject of not one, but THREE, made for tv movies (one with drew barrymore and one with alyssa milano) and countless hours of hard copy? yeah, that one.
at the house he meets her new boobs and her husband. an ex-cop.
oh to be a fly on the wall.
book your acela tix for december 18th to philly.
her husband, yes, a former police officer, will "fight" rodney king. yeah, that guy. the one who was on the receiving end of one the most infamous cop beat-downs of our time.
there is no longer lead in the water. why is everyone insane?
Saturday, November 28, 2009
family
the other night at work i was on the receiving end of what can only be described as pity, from a woman about my age when she asked me if i had any kids. trust me, i have never felt that as a missing piece in my life, but it's confounding to most mothers. my owning of a pet seemed to cheer her somewhat. she could now sleep at night knowing i wasn't rattling around alone, all havisham-style, in an empty apartment, without something else that walks and breathes.
the night before thanksgiving, i met some friends for drinks. they were staggered to learn i hadn't been home for that holiday since i left for college. in fact, freshman year my b/f and i booked a vacation to jamaica because neither of us wanted to go home. my mother went ballistic, and dragged that sin out often to scold me about how rotten i was as a daughter. uh, remind again why i don't want to spend time there, with you, mommy dearest?
course, now, there is no home to go to, but that didn't seem quite right to bring up in that context of a shit-hole bar and holiday cheer, lol.
in my earliest thanksgiving memory i was three and we traveled to my aunt's in westchester for dinner. because my mother passive-aggressively controlled time for everybody in her life, we were late. very late. the weather and driving were foul, and my parents fought the entire drive up because of her perpetual tardiness. when we at last got there, my father thought to make a big joke of it all, but my drunk uncle thought violence a way better solution and chucked him down the stairs. the day only got better. uh-huh. there is a picture from that night. i am wearing a party dress, a football helmet, singing and "playing" the guitar. like a little uso kid entertaining the troops.
even when we hosted holidays, my mother could not be on time and would still be showering or something when everybody started arriving. then she'd feel rushed and peevish when she finally swanned downstairs. after, she'd gripe that everybody ate so quickly and she had cooked for days. there was always some kind of tension between various factions, and i was very glad when i was finally old enough to have a drink with dinner. i never understood why everybody felt so compelled to gather, when so few enjoyed each others' company, and i'd be exhausted afterwards. when the clean-up was finally finished, my mother and stepfather would sit, have a drink and pick apart all who had attended, and those who hadn't for good measure. god, it was petty.
in fairness, my father's family got along more easily, and those dinners could be quite entertaining, but when my father drifted away to his new son and g/f, he cut me out of that picture, and nobody else could be bothered to invite me. i became so little a part of him and his family, that when he finally married b. years ago, nobody even told me. his daughter.
mean-spirited, selfish and dysfunctional. i couldn't find enough positives to place and balance the scale. i wasn't following the mold of marriage and kids which also confused. to this day, i'm quite sure my grandmother thinks i am a lesbian because i am still single and child-free. the b/f's i did bring round were not met with enthusiasm, so i just stopped doing it. they never even met the guy to whom i was engaged. when my stepfather died, my mother told me in no uncertain terms he was not welcome in her home or at the funeral. unmarried, she didn't want us sleeping under her roof. even in separate rooms. even though we shared a home here.
the years of silence got easier as each one passed.
thanksgiving, this year and last, i cooked for the owner, a friend and myself. we saw a movie and then came back here to feast. nobody fought. nobody cried. we enjoyed each other's company and had delicious food and amazing wine.
i still struggle with what i "don't" feel for my family, but perhaps those i care about, and care about me in return, are enough. this is the only time in my life someone has been there whom i cannot bear the thought of losing. that is love. devotion. that is family.
i am very thankful to have found that in my life.
the night before thanksgiving, i met some friends for drinks. they were staggered to learn i hadn't been home for that holiday since i left for college. in fact, freshman year my b/f and i booked a vacation to jamaica because neither of us wanted to go home. my mother went ballistic, and dragged that sin out often to scold me about how rotten i was as a daughter. uh, remind again why i don't want to spend time there, with you, mommy dearest?
course, now, there is no home to go to, but that didn't seem quite right to bring up in that context of a shit-hole bar and holiday cheer, lol.
in my earliest thanksgiving memory i was three and we traveled to my aunt's in westchester for dinner. because my mother passive-aggressively controlled time for everybody in her life, we were late. very late. the weather and driving were foul, and my parents fought the entire drive up because of her perpetual tardiness. when we at last got there, my father thought to make a big joke of it all, but my drunk uncle thought violence a way better solution and chucked him down the stairs. the day only got better. uh-huh. there is a picture from that night. i am wearing a party dress, a football helmet, singing and "playing" the guitar. like a little uso kid entertaining the troops.
even when we hosted holidays, my mother could not be on time and would still be showering or something when everybody started arriving. then she'd feel rushed and peevish when she finally swanned downstairs. after, she'd gripe that everybody ate so quickly and she had cooked for days. there was always some kind of tension between various factions, and i was very glad when i was finally old enough to have a drink with dinner. i never understood why everybody felt so compelled to gather, when so few enjoyed each others' company, and i'd be exhausted afterwards. when the clean-up was finally finished, my mother and stepfather would sit, have a drink and pick apart all who had attended, and those who hadn't for good measure. god, it was petty.
in fairness, my father's family got along more easily, and those dinners could be quite entertaining, but when my father drifted away to his new son and g/f, he cut me out of that picture, and nobody else could be bothered to invite me. i became so little a part of him and his family, that when he finally married b. years ago, nobody even told me. his daughter.
mean-spirited, selfish and dysfunctional. i couldn't find enough positives to place and balance the scale. i wasn't following the mold of marriage and kids which also confused. to this day, i'm quite sure my grandmother thinks i am a lesbian because i am still single and child-free. the b/f's i did bring round were not met with enthusiasm, so i just stopped doing it. they never even met the guy to whom i was engaged. when my stepfather died, my mother told me in no uncertain terms he was not welcome in her home or at the funeral. unmarried, she didn't want us sleeping under her roof. even in separate rooms. even though we shared a home here.
the years of silence got easier as each one passed.
thanksgiving, this year and last, i cooked for the owner, a friend and myself. we saw a movie and then came back here to feast. nobody fought. nobody cried. we enjoyed each other's company and had delicious food and amazing wine.
i still struggle with what i "don't" feel for my family, but perhaps those i care about, and care about me in return, are enough. this is the only time in my life someone has been there whom i cannot bear the thought of losing. that is love. devotion. that is family.
i am very thankful to have found that in my life.
Friday, November 27, 2009
sheeple
oprah is the devil yet millions and jillions of women find her the most inspiring and rightest bestest person on the globe. everything she promotes skyrockets in popularity.
this has been a boon for authors with her book club, although i doubt she made anybody read books who wasn't inclined to do so in the first place. they're still flipping through cosmo for sex tips and how not to look so fat in your jeans while they watch oprah and eat ice cream. there was her smiting of jonathan franzen when he expressed discomfort that her majesty's selection of "the corrections" would forever relegate it to a chick book. he was booted from the show and she dropped the book.
there was the come-uppance when she had to admit she'd been duped by james frey with his fantastical lies in "a million little pieces" and the even bigger fatter liar herman rosenblat with his holocaust love story "angel at the fence". lies, lies, damn lies.
she is not infallible, yet her coven blindly follows her every directive and believes she is all the goodest. much like the witches of bacchus, the women are driven to heights of ecstasy their husbands can never hope to match. terrifying, really, that a sweater give-away prompts an estrogen melt-down of hysteria in the studio.
let's not digress about her flock taking diet advice from an obese yo-yo dieter, or the bully pulpits she allows wackadoos like jenny maccarthy (vaccines cause autism) and suzanne somers (bio-identical hormones and taking up to 60 different pills a day. she looks absolutely awful. wan, puffy, haggard. yeah, her "system" must work great.)
with her announcement that she is leaving the network show that made her empress of the world, lots of retrospective on the net. i found out only today that SHE is the beezlebub responsible for the omnipresence of uggs!. i'd seen them years ago in a pic of the baywatch girls, circa the pamela anderson era. so... mid-90s? there was some connection to australian lifeguards and the boots eventually crossed the ocean to california beaches.
in 2003, oprah gave them away to her screaming midwestern menopausals and they continue to be seen everywhere. watching the owner's soccer game on sunday, i was in the minority not wearing them, ffs. they make women slough their feet, sounding like lazy baboons dragging their tails in the dust, and they all look as if the foot is not held in place by the heel, with broken-down sides. since they were made for walking on sand, not the tiled floor at the mall, that may be why. but you know what? they are ugly. ugly. ugly. $150 of fugly.
her diabolical powers of persuasion know no bounds.
are crocs her fault too?
Sunday, November 15, 2009
the end is nigh
we've previously covered the slow death march of print media. personally, i haven't bought a "paper" in untold months. the ny times and bbc websites have been very serviceable, although i want to punch the designer of the boston globe's. (not that their writing was ever all that great in ink, but the web format honestly just sucks.)
slashing of staffs and departments, plummeting profits. scary times.
long ago, i could spend an entire day reading the sunday times. lolling about with tea and toast, with the fat satisfying in-depth coverage unseen in most other dailies.
when i switched to an on-line reader, the sunday edition still could consume several very satisfying hours when i could find them.
much like gaining weight or growing older, some personal shifts don't register consciously at first. however one or two sundays ago, i realized i couldn't recall the last time i gorged on a sunday times. in fact, there hadn't even been a binge. just a few snacks, more unsatisfying than a single potato chip, which sent me elsewhere for my news junkie fix. frankly i've become a more frequent consumer of sites like the awl and gawker which mock mainstream media.
msm took a flying pass on so many recent stories: the entire bush presidency and its ham-handed forcing of itself into power,the bulldozer rush to an unjustifiable war, the tyranny of the patriot act, the non-existence of the wmd's, abu ghraib only got to light when soldiers themselves posted the photos, the bush regime killing science and medical research in favor of stone-age religious principles; the national enquirer, a paper thought one greasy rung up from those that run "bat-boy returns" and "aliens lunch with limbaugh" howlers, broke and carried the john edwards baby-daddy saga, etc. etc., to a sickening etc. msm, both print and network, squandered its credibility for investigative journalism, in exchange for sound-bites and chasing its own tail, happy to be spoon-fed misinformation or gobble ratings and kill minds with maniacs like glenn beck.
this week, feeling like a straying, but conflicted, spouse, i tried to go back to the grey lady. (please note, links to nyt articles go dead in a short span, so it's pointless to paste them. sorry.) science? few papers have much of it, other than an occasional piece about nuts or bolts flying off a shuttle. an article on new studies about pig cognition. okey-dokey. i thoroughly enjoy info that knits humans even more deeply into the fabric of the animal kingdom and all creatures that roam or wriggle the earth. the article begins with a 3 little pigs analogy and then, after citing a study where the subjects passed the "mirror cognition test" (which dolphins and elephants also do well with and thought to be a high-sign of innate intelligence) had this to say:
To which I say, big squeal. Why should the pigs waste precious mirror time inspecting their teeth or straightening the hairs on their chinny-chin-chins, when they could be using the mirror as a tool to find a far prettier sight, the pig heaven that comes in a bowl?
is this story-time for 3rd-graders?
a british prof, dr. byrnes, attributes pig smarts to the same evolutionary pressures that prompted cleverness in primates: social life and food. wild pigs live in long-term social groups, keeping track of one another as individuals, the better to protect against predation. they also root around for difficult food sources, requiring a dexterity of the snout not unlike the handiness of a monkey. that brain power remains, even though pigs have been domesticated for many 1000s of years.
there was, i think, 1 sentence about the evolutionary big picture, and how, although we diverged millions of years ago, we share huge chunks of genetic codes.
i wanted to punch the chick who wrote it and her editor who either allowed or forced an article so twee.
food.
not heavy news, but a long-time go-to for me. my first wednesday section to read. this week, it was some sort of thanksgiving sides death match between two female food writers. i couldn't get through it. "stuffing muffins"? is craig clairborne weeping into his claret? many years ago, amanda hesser began chronicling her relationship with a certain mr. latte through her sunday magazine food page. it was so suffocatingly protestant and upright, yet filled with skinny girl angst, i stopped reading until i heard she had at last married him and given up her regular gig. phew.
now? back to cutsie-pie. the guy who now has that page is inspired, and aided at the stove, by his pre-school son dexter. he wrote of the challenge of the THIRTY-TWO DOLLAR farmer's market chicken and $5 quarts of fresh milk his kids consumed by the gallons. are you fucking kidding me? what was your salary before the cuts, mr. wells? i gave it up.
this week, it's about making caramel popcorn. caramel popcorn. i couldn't get through it, but this line leapt out:
I am probably overselling the sophistication of Dexter, who, after all, is only 5.
spoken only like a parent who likely lives in park slope. gag.
there was a homes article about a woman whose marriage collapsed while she and her 2nd husband were renovating their $3 million dream loft. the reno went $500,000 over projection. sure, divorce is painful, but please let me wipe my tears with my unemployment check stub, ok? nice to know not just the poors get divorced and have to downsize, although the end i took away was sad middle-aged rich white lady now alone will make a tidy profit on house in shit economy while 1000s of regular people can't sell homes they can no longer afford because they cannot find work.
a culture writer this week has a LONG story about how "douche" has become an acceptable zing on tv. this is "news"? maybe a few years ago, whenever the first show got by the censors with it, but if it's on that julia louis-dreyfuss piece of drek, or "gray's anatomy", it has already jumped the shark, ok?
today may spell the end for me. meghan fox is on the cover of the magazine. she of "transformers" fame. one movie, which was all cgi and maybe her screaming? (dunno, didn't see it.) a cosmetically-enhanced high school drop-out with freak thumbs, no discernible acting chops, a giant marilyn tattoo on her forearm and a knack for saying inane shit:
"I resent having to prove that I'm not a retard." - Esquire, June 2009
"If you eat Chinese food, your farts come out like Chinese food. If you eat Mexican food, your farts come out like Mexican food. And milk, it's like-you can smell the warmth in the fart. My wardrobe on Transformers always smells like farts, and I have no idea why." -GQ, October 2008
on the cover of elle or self, maybe but, honestly?
did contemporaries moan the end of the horse and buggy as cars began roaming city streets? did housewives beg to keep the wringer washer when hubby brought home the electric drum version?
this will happen in my lifetime and i feel sooner rather than later. i don't have a crystal ball, nor am i that net savvy. i DO know very few readers will begin to pay for content that had been free which seems to be the stone-age model most paper honchos want to pursue. (by all means, full-steam ahead -- your other economic strategies have proven excellent!) sorry, sulzberger. if this is the best you have now? i'm certainly not going to pay for something so crappy. the times is now like bad chinese: it's kind of ok if you can't find anything else nearby and cheap, but you're starving not long after.
slashing of staffs and departments, plummeting profits. scary times.
long ago, i could spend an entire day reading the sunday times. lolling about with tea and toast, with the fat satisfying in-depth coverage unseen in most other dailies.
when i switched to an on-line reader, the sunday edition still could consume several very satisfying hours when i could find them.
much like gaining weight or growing older, some personal shifts don't register consciously at first. however one or two sundays ago, i realized i couldn't recall the last time i gorged on a sunday times. in fact, there hadn't even been a binge. just a few snacks, more unsatisfying than a single potato chip, which sent me elsewhere for my news junkie fix. frankly i've become a more frequent consumer of sites like the awl and gawker which mock mainstream media.
msm took a flying pass on so many recent stories: the entire bush presidency and its ham-handed forcing of itself into power,the bulldozer rush to an unjustifiable war, the tyranny of the patriot act, the non-existence of the wmd's, abu ghraib only got to light when soldiers themselves posted the photos, the bush regime killing science and medical research in favor of stone-age religious principles; the national enquirer, a paper thought one greasy rung up from those that run "bat-boy returns" and "aliens lunch with limbaugh" howlers, broke and carried the john edwards baby-daddy saga, etc. etc., to a sickening etc. msm, both print and network, squandered its credibility for investigative journalism, in exchange for sound-bites and chasing its own tail, happy to be spoon-fed misinformation or gobble ratings and kill minds with maniacs like glenn beck.
this week, feeling like a straying, but conflicted, spouse, i tried to go back to the grey lady. (please note, links to nyt articles go dead in a short span, so it's pointless to paste them. sorry.) science? few papers have much of it, other than an occasional piece about nuts or bolts flying off a shuttle. an article on new studies about pig cognition. okey-dokey. i thoroughly enjoy info that knits humans even more deeply into the fabric of the animal kingdom and all creatures that roam or wriggle the earth. the article begins with a 3 little pigs analogy and then, after citing a study where the subjects passed the "mirror cognition test" (which dolphins and elephants also do well with and thought to be a high-sign of innate intelligence) had this to say:
To which I say, big squeal. Why should the pigs waste precious mirror time inspecting their teeth or straightening the hairs on their chinny-chin-chins, when they could be using the mirror as a tool to find a far prettier sight, the pig heaven that comes in a bowl?
is this story-time for 3rd-graders?
a british prof, dr. byrnes, attributes pig smarts to the same evolutionary pressures that prompted cleverness in primates: social life and food. wild pigs live in long-term social groups, keeping track of one another as individuals, the better to protect against predation. they also root around for difficult food sources, requiring a dexterity of the snout not unlike the handiness of a monkey. that brain power remains, even though pigs have been domesticated for many 1000s of years.
there was, i think, 1 sentence about the evolutionary big picture, and how, although we diverged millions of years ago, we share huge chunks of genetic codes.
i wanted to punch the chick who wrote it and her editor who either allowed or forced an article so twee.
food.
not heavy news, but a long-time go-to for me. my first wednesday section to read. this week, it was some sort of thanksgiving sides death match between two female food writers. i couldn't get through it. "stuffing muffins"? is craig clairborne weeping into his claret? many years ago, amanda hesser began chronicling her relationship with a certain mr. latte through her sunday magazine food page. it was so suffocatingly protestant and upright, yet filled with skinny girl angst, i stopped reading until i heard she had at last married him and given up her regular gig. phew.
now? back to cutsie-pie. the guy who now has that page is inspired, and aided at the stove, by his pre-school son dexter. he wrote of the challenge of the THIRTY-TWO DOLLAR farmer's market chicken and $5 quarts of fresh milk his kids consumed by the gallons. are you fucking kidding me? what was your salary before the cuts, mr. wells? i gave it up.
this week, it's about making caramel popcorn. caramel popcorn. i couldn't get through it, but this line leapt out:
I am probably overselling the sophistication of Dexter, who, after all, is only 5.
spoken only like a parent who likely lives in park slope. gag.
there was a homes article about a woman whose marriage collapsed while she and her 2nd husband were renovating their $3 million dream loft. the reno went $500,000 over projection. sure, divorce is painful, but please let me wipe my tears with my unemployment check stub, ok? nice to know not just the poors get divorced and have to downsize, although the end i took away was sad middle-aged rich white lady now alone will make a tidy profit on house in shit economy while 1000s of regular people can't sell homes they can no longer afford because they cannot find work.
a culture writer this week has a LONG story about how "douche" has become an acceptable zing on tv. this is "news"? maybe a few years ago, whenever the first show got by the censors with it, but if it's on that julia louis-dreyfuss piece of drek, or "gray's anatomy", it has already jumped the shark, ok?
today may spell the end for me. meghan fox is on the cover of the magazine. she of "transformers" fame. one movie, which was all cgi and maybe her screaming? (dunno, didn't see it.) a cosmetically-enhanced high school drop-out with freak thumbs, no discernible acting chops, a giant marilyn tattoo on her forearm and a knack for saying inane shit:
"I resent having to prove that I'm not a retard." - Esquire, June 2009
"If you eat Chinese food, your farts come out like Chinese food. If you eat Mexican food, your farts come out like Mexican food. And milk, it's like-you can smell the warmth in the fart. My wardrobe on Transformers always smells like farts, and I have no idea why." -GQ, October 2008
on the cover of elle or self, maybe but, honestly?
did contemporaries moan the end of the horse and buggy as cars began roaming city streets? did housewives beg to keep the wringer washer when hubby brought home the electric drum version?
this will happen in my lifetime and i feel sooner rather than later. i don't have a crystal ball, nor am i that net savvy. i DO know very few readers will begin to pay for content that had been free which seems to be the stone-age model most paper honchos want to pursue. (by all means, full-steam ahead -- your other economic strategies have proven excellent!) sorry, sulzberger. if this is the best you have now? i'm certainly not going to pay for something so crappy. the times is now like bad chinese: it's kind of ok if you can't find anything else nearby and cheap, but you're starving not long after.
Sunday, November 08, 2009
lazy is as lazy does
for many years, i resisted getting tivo. the first person i knew who had one was dumb as a box of hammers and i couldn't take seriously anything that came out of his empty head. he also couldn't articulate how it worked. moreso, after a career of working nights, i'd simply lost the habit of prime-time tv. like i missed the entire seinfeld era. (no loss, that kind of new yorky navel-gazing doesn't amuse here, but lots of episodes became familiar cultural references. as a restaurant person, how i envied the soup nazi! but when customers would make a crack, assuming i simply MUST have seen such-and-such an episode, my lack of recognition registered like i was some sort of bone-in-the-nose savage reshly emerged from the amazon rainforest.)
fast-forward and the owner is adamant tivo will change my world, and there will be no getting around ordering the box.
my concern that i'd start watching too much mindless tv was unfounded, because the only stuff on there was what i had asked it to store. no time wasted surfing channels looking for a show of interest. brilliant! (except early in its personal learning curve. the owner had included lots of soccer in the to-do list, so tivo helpfully picked up lots of telemundo soaps, thinking i was latin.)
much like tv was going to kill radio, and vcrs kill the movies, network honchos gnashed their teeth that dvrs would spell certain boob-tube doom.
with everything based on ad dollars and that coveted demographic of 18-49 year olds, the suits decided on what, even to me, seemed a flawed model of counting eyeballs. they only tracked same day views and yeah, it didn't look great. don't know who had a light-bulb moment, but two years ago nielsen switched to a plus-3 method. same day, plus the 3 days after for ad views. personally, i nearly never watch programs on the same day, and neither does anybody i know. duh. this has dramatically increased ratings from some shows thought to be laggards, some clicking up more than 20%, so there is now a little more sunshine in hollywood.
the biggest surprise? from today's ny times:
"According to Nielsen, 46 percent of viewers 18 to 49 years old for all four networks taken together are watching the commercials during playback, up slightly from last year. Why would people pass on the opportunity to skip through to the next chunk of program content? The most basic reason, according to Brad Adgate, the senior vice president for research at Horizon Media, a media buying firm, is that the behavior that has underpinned television since its invention still persists to a larger degree than expected.
“It’s still a passive activity,” he said."
even with remote controls and only a simple button push to avoid the chevy tahoe/bud light-lime nonsense, most people are simply too lazy to bother, lol.
Friday, November 06, 2009
real amurricanz
let's do some catching up on a few of our favorites from the heartland, shall we? the internetz were chock-full of homey apple pie and gingham apron goodness today.
my favorite beauty pageant not-winner, and stalwart public defender of opposite-marriage, carrie prejean, was pressing hard on her crown-stealers for a settlement. like over a million bucks hard. but whoops! miss not-california walked out of the talks red-faced and empty-handed when lawyers showed her a graphic sex tape.
of herself. doing herself. did the wind accidentally turn on the video camera while she was indulging in a wank-fest?
edited to add, she has been dropped from an appearance at a "defending the family" conference this weekend.
raymond jessop, formerly a resident of the yearning for zion ranch, in eldorado texas, was convicted yesterday for sexually assaulting a child. this is one of the guys rounded up after authorities raided the compound belonging to the fundamentalist church of jesus christ of latter day saints and over 400 kids in prairie dresses and braids were taken into protective custody. his victim was 15 at the time and had originally been "assigned" to jessop's brother, but i guess they traded. she eventually got pregnant by him. he had 9 other "spiritual wives," as permitted by the rules of this break-away bunch of mormons. over a dozen other guys are cooling their heels in the pokey awaiting trial on similar charges and jessop isn't finished with his court stuff either, but is now behind bars. i am especially fond of this story because a) regular mormons are whackos, so this nutsiness ups that krazee exponentially b)the guy looks like a ventriloquist dummy in a profoundly creepy way and c) any guy who thinks it's a good idea to have a harem, of teenagers no less, to manage is out of his mind. we'll add a d) to the list because i was floored to discover the age of consent in texas is 17!
lastly, our cute dumb friend levi johnston. our hockey-playing thrilla from wasilla who knocked up palin's daughter bristol. the pit bull pushed him under the kliegs in a suit and holding hands with her pregnant teenager and glossed them over as kids doin' the right thing, cuz they had an oops, but would get married and everything would be great and happy-ever-after, cuz that's what happens to real amurricanz who don't do the chastity thing you, as a mom, just knew they would always do when you let your daughter's boyfriend sleep over in her room. then when the vp office didn't get her name on it, levi was out in the alaskan cold, don't let the igloo door hit you in the ass, and don't try to see your kid. go back and live with you meth-head sister and oxycontin dealing aunt. but levi had gotten a taste of the limelight, ya know? perhaps not as dumb as others thought, cuz he's been stretching his 15 minutes now for over a year. vanity fair profile, red carpet walks with kathy griffin, chats with oprah and larry king -- usual d-list crap. today? he arrives in nyc to shoot a spread for playgirl! this is brilliant in so many ways i can't stand it. he'll be traveling with his posse, tank jones and rex butler. was hiring handlers with porno-sounding names prescient or a delightful serendipity? even the photographer running the shoot is named weiner! the ny post is speculating about the size of his wang (natch) and net geeks are back and forth whether it'll be hard or soft. who even knew playgirl was still published? but we all know only homos buy it, if anyone still does. the money shot is that his issue will be on the stands right before sarah's book. which yes, is actually called "goin' rogue." (ok, the editors didn't drop the g. that's all me.) this book should not be confused with the meanie version, called "going rouge".
once again, i face the fact that i am not a real amurrican, and that thanks to obama, they are perilously endangered
my favorite beauty pageant not-winner, and stalwart public defender of opposite-marriage, carrie prejean, was pressing hard on her crown-stealers for a settlement. like over a million bucks hard. but whoops! miss not-california walked out of the talks red-faced and empty-handed when lawyers showed her a graphic sex tape.
of herself. doing herself. did the wind accidentally turn on the video camera while she was indulging in a wank-fest?
edited to add, she has been dropped from an appearance at a "defending the family" conference this weekend.
raymond jessop, formerly a resident of the yearning for zion ranch, in eldorado texas, was convicted yesterday for sexually assaulting a child. this is one of the guys rounded up after authorities raided the compound belonging to the fundamentalist church of jesus christ of latter day saints and over 400 kids in prairie dresses and braids were taken into protective custody. his victim was 15 at the time and had originally been "assigned" to jessop's brother, but i guess they traded. she eventually got pregnant by him. he had 9 other "spiritual wives," as permitted by the rules of this break-away bunch of mormons. over a dozen other guys are cooling their heels in the pokey awaiting trial on similar charges and jessop isn't finished with his court stuff either, but is now behind bars. i am especially fond of this story because a) regular mormons are whackos, so this nutsiness ups that krazee exponentially b)the guy looks like a ventriloquist dummy in a profoundly creepy way and c) any guy who thinks it's a good idea to have a harem, of teenagers no less, to manage is out of his mind. we'll add a d) to the list because i was floored to discover the age of consent in texas is 17!
lastly, our cute dumb friend levi johnston. our hockey-playing thrilla from wasilla who knocked up palin's daughter bristol. the pit bull pushed him under the kliegs in a suit and holding hands with her pregnant teenager and glossed them over as kids doin' the right thing, cuz they had an oops, but would get married and everything would be great and happy-ever-after, cuz that's what happens to real amurricanz who don't do the chastity thing you, as a mom, just knew they would always do when you let your daughter's boyfriend sleep over in her room. then when the vp office didn't get her name on it, levi was out in the alaskan cold, don't let the igloo door hit you in the ass, and don't try to see your kid. go back and live with you meth-head sister and oxycontin dealing aunt. but levi had gotten a taste of the limelight, ya know? perhaps not as dumb as others thought, cuz he's been stretching his 15 minutes now for over a year. vanity fair profile, red carpet walks with kathy griffin, chats with oprah and larry king -- usual d-list crap. today? he arrives in nyc to shoot a spread for playgirl! this is brilliant in so many ways i can't stand it. he'll be traveling with his posse, tank jones and rex butler. was hiring handlers with porno-sounding names prescient or a delightful serendipity? even the photographer running the shoot is named weiner! the ny post is speculating about the size of his wang (natch) and net geeks are back and forth whether it'll be hard or soft. who even knew playgirl was still published? but we all know only homos buy it, if anyone still does. the money shot is that his issue will be on the stands right before sarah's book. which yes, is actually called "goin' rogue." (ok, the editors didn't drop the g. that's all me.) this book should not be confused with the meanie version, called "going rouge".
once again, i face the fact that i am not a real amurrican, and that thanks to obama, they are perilously endangered
Tuesday, November 03, 2009
more bewbies, well, less, actually
last night i heard, then saw, a victoria's secret commercial on tv. in severe non-shopping mode all these months, all the catalogs have gone straight to recycling, so i am out of the lingerie loop.they have a new "miraculous push-up bra". instantly (well, as soon as you put it on) adds 2 full cup sizes. never having worn a padded bra, i have no idea how much batting that is, but likely enough to make a puppy bed.
please 'splain how this is different than the junior high girl stuffing sweat socks in her training bra? once the guy gets in there, expecting cantaloupes but getting blueberries, then what? yeah, a 13-year-old boy will be thrilled to be copping a feel, but a grown man won't be thinking wtf?
although if a chick isn't getting any a $50 bra is way cheaper than a $5000 boob job and will succeed just as well in getting catcalls and hisses of "mommy" at construction sites.
shrinkage
it's a word that strikes terror into the limbs and minds of men, because they think hairline or something more, ahem, private that is terrified of icy water. lately, recessionomics has shrunk their portfolios too.let's begin this by saying i am happy with the way i have been eating since the end of summer. i still feel great, it's getting much easier and i haven't gone off the rails and eaten a pile of mashed potatoes or an entire pizza. or even a slice for that matter. i had a dinner party last week and but for a few spoonsful of flour (divided by 4 of us) everything was allowable. that included the staggering amount of butter and olive oil, lol.
the down- and frustrating bit of this is i have been at the same weight now for over a month. i've been advised to up my calories which i have. it's so counter intuitive i spend a good portion of the day freaking out. ahem. still no loss, but i have not gained any weight in the 2 weeks of uppage, so am being told to EAT STILL MORE. gah. can't do it yet.
but here's the weird thing. i'm shrinking. rings are too big and have moved from the second to the index finger. a blazer that hasn't fastened in forevah now fits closed over a wool twin set with room to spare. all the sleeves on my sweaters and jackets are much looser. freshly dried nighties that needed a pull to relax the lycra and be less tight now fall freely as soon as i put them on. the new delta bras from only a few weeks back went from being hitched on the 1st hook to the 3rd. blouses that strained buttons at the boobs no longer threaten to explode. (sorry, hubert.)
consensus seems to be when you lose 10% of your body weight, everything stalls. your body puts on the brakes to see what's what. once it figures this is for real, it will let go. for some people it took months. i've resolved to up my resistance training, which is the only real change i can make. am back to work finally, so my daily activity will be much greater than it's been too.
as crazy as the numbers are making me, i cannot remember the last time i felt this good and THAT is what keeps me on track. last night at the market i spent a few too many minutes tempting myself with low-carb wraps. "only 7 carbs, noodle... don't you miss bread, noodle?" (calling it bread is kind of a stretch here: flaxseed, oat bran and a tiny bit of whole wheat, but a regular wrap has 25-35 carbs -- more than i eat all day.) then i pictured myself eating the entire package before i went to bed and how puffy and bloated my face would look and my stomach would feel in the morning. i stepped away from the grains, lol.
Sunday, November 01, 2009
boyz, girlz and bewbies
every so often i read of a study done and have that moment of, "somebody got grant money and university time for this shit, yet we don't know how cats purr? wtf?"
because today's' article was in the "london sun" not all basic journalistic principles were followed, so i don't know the number of subjects who participated in this new zealand study.
all the subjects were male. they were shown digitally altered photos of the same woman, variously enhancing or decreasing her breasts. omg! guess what!! 80% of the guys looked first at boobs and midriff region. shocking, eh? gobbledy-gook about hormones and fertility, but women walk around with sex organs bouncing in guys' faces. men are wired as visual (women are audio) and just cannot help themselves.
having been large-chested from an early age, i frequently don't notice people gawking, unless their tongues are lolling out or they crash their car. (yes, that happened, lol.) the owner occasionally comments on guys doing a hooters-check and also has observed the female version. they look at him, then my boobs, then my shoes, then my boobs again. but see that's competitiveness and self-esteem regulation. they don't want to run over and bury their face in my cleavage.
out socializing with less-endowed friends and every so often their egos boiled over because guys were gravitating to me more than they and i had pretty much had my pick of the litter. it always got ugly and they were too crushed to be able to see how superficial all that attention was, nor how little it meant to me. they always came back with, "easy for you to say!" which is true, but god, most guys will fuck most willing females, ok? it's not survival of the biggest cup-size, ok? maybe stop being a resentful bitch about your genetic lottery and smile at somebody you think is cute? instead of fuming over your drink and looking like you'd kill anybody that came near you.
there are days too when i am cranky or lost in my head and frankly the shallowness of the attention makes me angry or resentful. like, leave me the fuck alone and put your eyes back in your head. there are days when they are heavy, swollen and sore and i swear weigh 20 pounds each.
the same paper had another article saying that over the last few years women getting breast augmentations have requested them to be on average 40% bigger. the celebs i see on-line often are rail-thin with porn-star size melons bolted onto their bird-bone frames. they look bizarre. so if this is becoming the visual normal, i guess jane average is using salma hayek as a role-model? careful what you wish for, girlies.
o
h, and for those of you in doubt?
in what fun-house mirror does this "after" look good?
because today's' article was in the "london sun" not all basic journalistic principles were followed, so i don't know the number of subjects who participated in this new zealand study.
all the subjects were male. they were shown digitally altered photos of the same woman, variously enhancing or decreasing her breasts. omg! guess what!! 80% of the guys looked first at boobs and midriff region. shocking, eh? gobbledy-gook about hormones and fertility, but women walk around with sex organs bouncing in guys' faces. men are wired as visual (women are audio) and just cannot help themselves.
having been large-chested from an early age, i frequently don't notice people gawking, unless their tongues are lolling out or they crash their car. (yes, that happened, lol.) the owner occasionally comments on guys doing a hooters-check and also has observed the female version. they look at him, then my boobs, then my shoes, then my boobs again. but see that's competitiveness and self-esteem regulation. they don't want to run over and bury their face in my cleavage.
out socializing with less-endowed friends and every so often their egos boiled over because guys were gravitating to me more than they and i had pretty much had my pick of the litter. it always got ugly and they were too crushed to be able to see how superficial all that attention was, nor how little it meant to me. they always came back with, "easy for you to say!" which is true, but god, most guys will fuck most willing females, ok? it's not survival of the biggest cup-size, ok? maybe stop being a resentful bitch about your genetic lottery and smile at somebody you think is cute? instead of fuming over your drink and looking like you'd kill anybody that came near you.
there are days too when i am cranky or lost in my head and frankly the shallowness of the attention makes me angry or resentful. like, leave me the fuck alone and put your eyes back in your head. there are days when they are heavy, swollen and sore and i swear weigh 20 pounds each.
the same paper had another article saying that over the last few years women getting breast augmentations have requested them to be on average 40% bigger. the celebs i see on-line often are rail-thin with porn-star size melons bolted onto their bird-bone frames. they look bizarre. so if this is becoming the visual normal, i guess jane average is using salma hayek as a role-model? careful what you wish for, girlies.
o
h, and for those of you in doubt?
in what fun-house mirror does this "after" look good?
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