Tuesday, July 20, 2010

current stuff

an unprecedented flash of what's happening:

obama meets with british p.m. david cameron...
and they dressed alike for the occasion. [CNN]

pennsylvania installs breathalizer monitors on wine vending machines...

i'd really like to know why PA thinks it must run this underdog race against liquor. you could buy beer in the damn duane reade in nyc, but verboten booze on a sunday in pa? ridic. [MNN]

blohan goes to jail...

and qualifies as breaking news on e! online, spurning a "lindsay jail primer" and streaming video feed. i suppose the oil spill now palins in comparison. [e!]

the plans to build a mosque near the site of the 9/11 attacks in NYC...
ummm...to quote my bff, "really?" i've put more deliberation into which foot to start my weekly nail trim. remember the three-word slogan that ruled the 90's, just say no? let's try that. [CNN]

and last, but surely not least, the apple iphone 4 shituation...
seriously? it's an iphone. if you don't like it, you're obviously jealous. like my favorite sorority t-shirt read in college, don't hate what you ain't. go pretend you're cool with your big bad android.

and i've just realized that wasn't very much fun. the whole news thing. tomorrow i'll be back to perversifying just about every ethical notion i can get my hands around.

Wednesday, July 07, 2010

it's a dealbreaker, gentleman.

recently i found myself watching the episode of 30 rock that featured protagonista liz lemon preaching a tirade of dealbreakers, a knack realized after creating a similar character for the show she writes. after hearing such terse bits of advice as, "he thinks he deserves a vajayjay update. he doesn't. he's not tom brady. shut it down--dealbreaker," i realized that the ladies could have dealbreakers, too. speaking in a heterosexual stance, i saw one this morning, and i'm going to relate it to you plain and simple:

girls...who cap their jersey dresses off with a backpack and a yankee's cap: dealbreaker! i don't care what your flip flops say. you shouldn't be wearing them, either. double dealbreaker!
girls...who think a jersey dress qualifies as anything but a jersey dress: dealbreaker!
girls...who think "coordinating your outfit" means matching your coach monogrammed bag to your coach monogrammed sneakers: dealbreaker!
girls...who wear sunglasses sporting a "D" on one arm, but no "G" on the other: dealbreaker!
girls...who refer to their male companions, romantic or platonic, as any or all of the following: my man, my beau, or the guy: dealbreaker, dealbreaker, DEALBREAKER!

meanwhile, i've a night of multiple shake weight workouts ahead of me. if you'll excuse me.

Thursday, July 01, 2010

stubbed toes and no-shows

normally when you make glue, first you have to thermoset your resin...

eew. i just had warm tuna tartare. it was awful and completely unnecessary. like children.

so today i'm going to wax a bit personal. i hope you don't mind. it was brought to my attention today by a concerned reader/fan/devotee/drone, whatever we're calling consistent blog readers nowadays, that the entries of the past few months allude to the fact that i might, in fact, have a heart. and consequently a soul. and such a prospect frightens me. duh, something beats in this 22 year-old chest, but you can't let them know that. and so i fervently sought the evidence, and found this, this, and THIS (which, incidentally, caused me to elicit an outright UGH at myself). what's happening? this same boy who, just recently, extolled the virtues of incorporating the C word into her vernacular to his mother, is now pushing balloons as part of jolly home decor?

i suppose people do change. and it has nothing to do with getting older. that i don't do. that i won't do. that i can't do. and speaking of change, today i realized that i have this intense desire to befriend an older woman. something about a certain white maned, post-menopausal vixen sporting prada glasses and carrying a 92nd st Y tote bag that i encountered on the subway the other day held the appeal of a goldmine of patent leather, and i found myself inordinately attracted to her. i wanted to hang out with her. i wanted to hear her floorboards creak as she walked from the kitchen to the couch, sat herself next to me, and presented me with my third cup of chamomile tea. i wanted to discuss rope rugs and how she used to fool around with girls while at smith, before marrying her amazing husband of 46 years who is currently studying primates in sub-saharan africa as part of CUNY's doctoral program on primate anthropology. and how she wants me to join her tonight to watch mildred pierce on TCM and how when she watches movies, she can't just sit there and watch the movie so she is a closet needlepointer, never daring to expose her 'guilty passion' as she calls it to her friends, for fear they'll make the same association between needlepointing and old age that she's held fast to since she watched her very elderly grandmother needlepoint as a little girl. but she needlepoints, and i would needlepoint that night, too. and i would take the same subway home afterward if i weren't invited to stay the night first.
and all would be well.

so i'm accepting applications for an older woman friend. and by older woman, i'm staying within the confines that exist outside of both cougar and colostomy bag chick.

and that, my dear suze orman-watching friends, is all for today.
xo (and everything in between)