Monday, December 31, 2007

Wait! I'm not ready for this

I'm just barely accustomed to 2007, and now it's almost 2008? Holy smokes. Whatever you do tonight, hope you have fun and feel happy and please be safe. I don't want to see your face when I do a flckr search of "drunk people" (which results in some very funny photos, but some of them depict what must be rock-bottom, which is actually quite sad).

Happy New Year!

Saturday, December 22, 2007

The Gift

Every once in a while, my husband will volunteer to do the grocery shopping. He thinks he's doing me a favor, but really it's a big pain in the ass. When he does the shopping, I have to make an inordinately detailed list, field 7 calls during the shopping time (I am not even exaggerating) and then he comes home with lots of wrong stuff, along with a super-pack of hot dogs and a gallon of mayo. Dude. We have a ton of people coming over for Christmas, and I need the right supplies. His grocery shopping abilities are far from acceptable, but today I didn't even care because along with the $5 package of moldy blueberries and cheap toilet paper, he brought me this:

Mmmmm, yes. Does the man know how to please his woman or what? This is something that I would never, ever buy for myself (dignity, you know) but was thrilled to accept as a peace offering. Looking at it, I felt like Nicole Richie in front of a corndog: I wanted to devour it and then barf it right back out. So I did devour it, and what you are going to be getting is the barfing, but in a very figurative way.

First, the cover. Many people would say that Heidi, in a wedding dress (not her own; she hadn't yet bought one according to the interview) looks sad. No. She is wearing the expression of "Goddamn it. Lauren was right. ALL OF YOU WERE RIGHT. I am so tired." The inside photo:

Oh, there's Spencer looking all vulnerable and Heidi, still in her wedding dress, turned slightly away from Spencer, still wearing her "How could I have been so fucking wrong" expression. Who ARE these people?! And why are they (allegedly) revealing every single detail of their broken engagement to the public at large? Don't get me wrong, I do enjoy it, but why are they doing it? Another staged photo of Heidi with the exact same expression, only now she's holding a picture of them together:

Ew. How much more desperate and fame-hungry could these people be? The interview is nothing new, just a bunch of "you'll have to watch the show" and blah blah blah about how they had different ideas about the wedding but are still together as boyfriend/girlfriend. Spencer's an ass, we all know it, let's move on (you too, Heidi).

Giada De Laurentiis is having a baby. Congrats, Giada! I hate to say it, but it will give me pleasure to see you put on a few pounds. Eat, girl. Don't hold back.

Look who needs a little lesson from Decorno:

At least she doesn't have a whale tail.

And finally, I think that watching this show would be a more effective form of torture than waterboarding:

Look at poor little Elmo's eyes. Jesus, Ty. Chill.

There is an article about Tony Parker and Eva Longoria, but I'm not really interested in them. If I had to say something, though, I'd say that things don't look good for Tony.

That's it. Have a lovely holiday break. I'm off to the grocery store.

Thursday, December 20, 2007

Been Tagged

I was tagged by the lovely Pink Wallpaper. I could post the rules but will not. I am not passing this on because most of my blogging friends are uppity bitches (that's why I love them) and would ignore it, thereby shaming me. But I think Pink Wallpaper and her blog are fantastic (Stacy and Clinton aren't coming for you anytime soon; you're way too cute), so I'm happy to oblige and provide 7 weird/random facts about myself.

1. I talked my way backstage at a Marky Mark concert (circa Good Vibrations, 1992) and he rapped my name. Oh yes he did.

2. When Bob Guiney was The Bachelor, I not only bought his CD, but I sat in the car and ripped it open with my teeth (I only recently found the CD in our tv console thingy, and I disposed of it).

3. I have never been to NYC. Talk about shame. I am working to remedy this.

4. I am always, always cold. My thermostat is set at 69 and I am typing this in my winter coat right now.

5. I am a total freaky crazy college basketball fan, and have sweaty palms and a stutter for most of March. Only a few people in my real life know this, and the rest hear of it but don't believe it because I am such a priss. Swear to God, I have been known to cry when my team loses in the Big Dance.

6. No one in my real life knows that I blog except for my husband, and I had to tell him because he thought I had an online boyfriend. Little does he know that I have online girlfriends.

7. I once peed my pants in public because I was laughing so hard. And no, I was not drunk, I was pregnant and I saw someone get popped in the head with a tennis ball. It doesn't sound funny, but believe me, it was.

Wednesday, December 19, 2007


Uh, hi. Did you happen to send me a package yesterday? A bunch of wrapping paper in a tube with the return address of Conde Nast? There wasn't a note or anything, and I was just wondering what the big occasion was. Is it a gift for all of the good press I do about you? Whatever the reason, thanks.

By the way, would you deliver a message to Lucky from me? I received this letter recently begging me to come back. It was quite pathetic really:

Kiss my arse. That's my answer.

Looking forward to your next issue, Domino, and if you didn't send me the wrapping paper, please let me know. I may have to obtain a restraining order against Lucky. Thanks.

Monday, December 17, 2007

Hello Katherine!

You are SO BEAUTIFUL! I mean it. This cover stopped me dead in my tracks, although I didn't recognize you and in fact initially thought you were Charlize Theron. Personally, I prefer your natural look (a la Knocked Up) because you are so fresh and young and pretty--you don't need all that make-up. Still, this cover is a knock-out (and fyi, the double suicide story promised on the cover is disturbing yet fascinating; read it here).

I'll get to the point, Kath. Do you need a new manager? Because I am available. Here is a sample of the advice I would be offering.

1. You are a celebrity chameleon. It's not only the cover of Vanity Fair, but the whole photo shoot. Here you are looking like young Kim Basinger:

and then young Michelle Pfeiffer:

and here, very Scarlett Johansson-y:

And call me crazy, but I see a smidge of Jessica Simpson here, minus the large bosom and fake tan:

You are virtually unrecognizable in all of these photos. Let's get you a look! Uber-glam is fab and all, but it's been done. And it's not you! You seem so down-to-earth (especially when you were defending your bff TR Knight during that whole Isaiah Washington debacle), and I know that you don't take yourself too seriously, because no one who stars in a Judd Apatow movie can. Natural, Katherine. And recognizable. Let's look into it.

2. Stop smoking. This is you, isn't it young lady?

If you keep smoking (and you want to stay in the biz), you will need a bit of plastic surgery to erase the signs of premature aging, and then you risk ending up looking like this:

and nobody wants that.

All right, Katherine. That's it. Call me if you're interested. I'm kind of busy waging a war against Rachael Ray, so if I don't answer the phone, just leave a message. Love ya.

Thanks to Vanity Fair for all of the chameleon photos.

Sunday, December 16, 2007

Party Tip

Are you planning to attend a holiday party next weekend? Maybe it will be a boring suburban party where everyone will talk about how gifted their kids are. Maybe it will be an awkward "we are here with a group of people who all seem to be best friends and have no interest in talking to us" party. Maybe it will be an actual spectacular party with funny and smart friends. It doesn't matter, because I know something you can bring that will make the boring and awkward parties fun and the fun parties even better:

That's right. JELLO SHOTS. You walk in the door with some red and green jello shots and people will think you are one cool mother-f-er. You are The One Who Brought the Jello Shots. You brought the drink (jiggly substance) that makes people feel young, that makes people cheer and laugh, that makes people LOOSEN UP. There's no downside to jello shots.* In fact, when someone (ahem) starts blasting Kanye at 11pm, people who are in their late 30s and have never heard of Kanye will lose their minds with happiness. They will laugh and laugh and dance in awesome ways that only the drunk can manage. And when you go home that night with a smile on your face, you will say to your date "now that was a fun party."

*Unless you are: the designated driver, a recovering alcoholic, at an office party, at a childrens' party, with your parents or grandparents, on-call at the hospital, allergic to jello and/or vokda, underage, flying the airplane later that night, feeling like you might have a stomach bug, etc.



1 small box (3 oz. package) of jello – any flavor

1 cup of boiling water

1 cup of vodka, chilled

Small paper or plastic cups

Place jello mix into a bowl or pitcher; make sure it can withstand boiling water. Add boiling water, and stir well until the jello is dissolved. Allow it to cool for a few minutes. Add the vodka and stir. Pour into small cups. Place the cups on a tray in the refrigerator, chill for several hours.

1) I know that in college, people made these with Everclear. If you even have Everclear in your bar, then you are probably crazy and/or in college. Don't use Everclear for God's sake.
2) Put the jello shots in Dixie cups and guests can tear and slurp. For a higher class of jello shot, use the 1 oz plastic shot glasses they sell at Party America. In this case, you will need toothpicks so that people can go around the edges and release the jello.

3) If you aren't sure your host will be thrilled with jello shots, call her to ask if you may bring them. If she doesn't say "hell yeah!" then you may want to come down with a nasty cold.

Thursday, December 13, 2007

Cease and Desist

It has already been established that Rachael Ray is everywhere, but now she's crossed the line. She's on my On Demand cable menu at unpredictable times (yet all of the time), and I find this highly intrusive. So I've been researching my legal options, and let's just say she'd better lawyer-up for SGM v. Rachael Ray.

I am quite confident of my victory as the Supreme Court has already dealt with this issue definitively:
. . . the broadcast media have established a uniquely pervasive presence in the lives of all Americans. Patently offensive, indecent material [including unusually annoying voices, stupid jargon and ill-fitting shirts] presented over the airwaves confronts the citizen, not only in public, but also in the privacy of the home, where the individual's right to be left alone plainly outweighs the First Amendment rights of an intruder. Rowan v. Post Office Dept., 397 U.S. 728. Because the broadcast audience is constantly tuning in and out, prior warnings cannot completely protect the listener or viewer from unexpected program content. To say that one may avoid further offense by turning off the radio [or tv] when he hears [or sees Rachael Ray] . . . is like saying that the remedy for an assault is to run away after the first blow. One may hang up on an indecent phone call, but that option does not give the caller a constitutional immunity or avoid a harm that has already taken place.

FCC v. Pacifica Foundation, 438 U.S. 736 (1978), the bold and the brackets are mine but really, it's only a matter of time before the Supreme Court adopts my words as its own.

You have struck the first blow, RR and I am not running away, oh no. I would rather bury my face in Britney's dirty laundry than hear your voice or see your flailing arms in my home (and that's really saying something). It's ON, Mrs. Asshat. Have your fancy legal team call me. I'll be waiting.

Wednesday, December 12, 2007


My dear benefactress Decorno recently wrote a post on gift-wrapping/gift giving and how she loves to give gifts that she herself would like to get. Right on, sister; anyone can give a Starbuck's gift card. Anyhow, the comments for this post were also entertaining and enlightening, Mamacita's in particular. She wrote about these red pants(!) that that her aunt wants for Christmas and how she forced herself to buy them, but that she couldn't talk about it on her blog because her uncle reads it (hope your uncle doesn't read this blog, Mamacita). She provided a link to said pants, and they do not look at all like the ones pictured above. I'm glad she was able to get it out via Decorno's comments section because I thought it was really funny and I am a happier person for having read it.

This time of year, we are often forced to be around wacko relatives/co-workers and alcohol, and excellent stories result. I myself love a juicy "my mother-in-law is a psycho!" story, or even a simple "my sister-in-law had better not bring that hateful jello salad to dinner this year." So, if you have some good stories to tell or mild complaining to do but are unable to do it on your own blog, you just write me at and I will post it here, and you can remain anonymous or not. Let's just get it out (Jennifer Aniston, this includes you. I saw on some tabloid cover that you were spending the holidays with Brad's parents--I'm sure that's totally true, and I would love to get the dirt on that man-stealer Angelina).

photo from

Sunday, December 9, 2007

Too bad

I saw these little customizable soap dishes by Paloma's Nest on Another Shade of Grey and have been thinking about them for days:

The possibilities! And only for $10.50! I've been thinking of all of the funny little inside jokes I could put on them for some close friends and really, I've been cracking myself up. I went online to order some tonight and much to my chagrin, they are SOLD OUT. It's probably for the best because I was planning to send them to my favorite celebs as well, and that could have been expensive. Oh well. Maybe for Valentine's Day. Here is a list of my potential recipients and the message:

Amy Winehouse: Good for you! (because she's not looking so fresh these days, and I'd like to encourage her occasional use of the soap)

Jessica Simpson: Don't wash your face with soap or else your face will get dry and wrinkly and then you'll never find a man (hope all of that fits) OR Why'd you break up with Nick Lachey, dumbass?

Rachael Ray : Property of Mrs. Asshat

Paris Hilton: (something along the lines of "all of the soap in the world wouldn't clean your skanky ass" but I'd need to work on the wording a bit more. There's also a "don't drop the soap" joke that I could use but that would be too obvious)

Lindsay Lohan: Don't snort the soap

Ryan Reynolds: Marry me (Romantic, no? And maybe he'd send a dish back that said "yes!" Mmmmm. But then I'd have to send a dish back that said "psyche!" because I am already married. I am also considering sending an "I love you" dish to Vince Vaughn if he loses a little weight and stops looking so ashen.)

Heidi Montag: Wash up, you don't know where Spencer's been OR You will never feel clean again after betraying your best friend

To whom would you send a customizable soap dish?

Just had to add Brilliant Asylum's contribution in the comments section because I'm still smiling about it:

Dave Grohl: Never use this. I like you dirty.

Friday, December 7, 2007


1. Why does Michael Jackson have to be such a straight-up perv? I want to buy She's Out of My Life, Rock with You and Don't Stop Til you Get Enough in the worst way because they are some of the best songs in the history of the world, but I cannot give money in good conscience to MJ. Did anyone else have this poster in her room in the mid-80s?:

Tragic, the whole thing. Not on the scale of Darfur or AIDS, but still.

2. Great December/January 2007 issue for Domino (or is it domino?)! Enjoyed it very much. But am I the only one who would not enjoy chomping on a leafy celery stalk at a fancy cocktail party (p. 76)? Add hot wings and I'm there with bells (and sweats) on, but celery and dip alone? I just don't see it. Also, the throw on p. 44 is not available. Why, Domino?

3. I hope this whole "Britney is pregnant" story really is false, not only for the obvious reason that this little lady doesn't need another youngin', but because it would be a spectacularly awesome joke on In Touch, who has already spent two covers insisting that it's true. Bravo, girl! I think this should be Britney's new PR strategy: have friends/employees/"reliable sources" make up a bunch of shit that isn't true, vaguely confirm it, wait for the tabloids to come out and then prove it to be ridiculously false. Revenge, Brit! Yours for the taking.

Monday, December 3, 2007

Customer Service Awards

Where I shop is greatly determined by customer service, but you already know that because I bet you're the same way. If the vaccuum is running at 8:30 pm on a weeknight and all of the sales associates are gossiping in the back, I'm not going to buy there (unless the goods are super-cute and there is a massive sale). Unfortunately, great service is hard to find, especially at the retail giants, so here are two stories to hearten your soul during these frenzied shopping days.

About a year ago I was searching for a casual coat of the short black puffy variety. I ended up ordering this one from Lands' End, hoping for the best but knowing that it would be too boxy and matronly on me and that I would end up returning it. After I received the coat and verified its boxy-ness and matronly-ness, I immediately put it back in its box and placed it in my closet, where it lived for a little over 11 months (in the meantime, I ordered this from Bluefly, toasty and slim-fitting).

This weekend, I finally decided to get rid of it via donation. But then I saw the packing slip that said that I could return at any time. Oh really? I called to see if they meant it. I dialed the number and popped some food in my big mouth because I knew that I would have at least 3 minutes of automation. But then a human answered right off the bat! After a near-choking incident, I asked her if I could return after 11 months. She said "no problem." Really! I returned it to Sears as she instructed and all my money came back. Bravo to you, Lands' End, for accommodating lazy but well-meaning returners.

The second award goes to Nordstrom. This happened a year ago, but it is the pinnacle of customer service in my book, so I must mention it here. I went in searching for black peep-toe pumps. The sales guy, who was fabulously gay and a shopping girl's dream, really knew his stuff. He showed me all of the black pumps, and I was kind of lukewarm on them, and that's when he read my mind and showed me what I really came to buy: red patent pumps. Before I committed to anything, he asked me how I liked the Frye boots that I was wearing. "Love them," I said. Because I do! I would have never tried them on because they look so masculine, but my friend Charlene convinced me and once they were on my feet. . . they are so undeniably cool. I digress. Anyhow, my fancypants shoe guy told me that they were "not wearing well" for just being a year old and that we should "change them out." Apparently the salt that melts snow can also discolor boots? And then he ran back and fetched me a brand new pair of boots, gratis. That's right. I bought the pumps, which incidentally weren't even that expensive (picture these in a deep ruby red):

and I still love them and wear them to this day. But that's not all--the sales guy calls 2 days later, to see how they were working out for me.

There is a bit of a sad ending in that I have not seen or heard from that shoe guy since. Was it all a dream? Sometimes I think he was fired for giving me the new pair of expensivo boots. Other times I think he moved on to Neiman's. The bottom line, however, is that the shopping experience was excellent even without the free boots because the guy knew shoes and acted like he gave a crap about me, his customer.

Good work Lands' End and Nordstrom; I am your customer for life.

Friday, November 30, 2007


This is why the rest of the world hates the US of A:

Because cooking a hot dog from scratch is just way too much work. What's next? A machine that shovels it into your mouth and turns the channel to WWE? Jesus Christ!


My friends! I need your help. We are having a holiday cocktail party in a couple of weeks and people need a place to set their drinks and a surface to dance upon when things get crazy later. I need a coffee table.

Here's my problem. I have this behemoth sectional with the chaise that leaves a tiny area for a table. Can you read my dimensions there? 26" on the short side, then 52" then 50" on the far right side. Every circle or square table I've seen is 32" and that's just too tight for the space.
I could do some cubes, but that seems just kind of bleh. Any of you out there with The Eye, do you have any suggestions? I'm fresh out of ideas.

Incidentally, viewing this room in a photo gives me a fresh perspective, like this room is looking a little void of personality. I think that zebra pillows might be just the thing. Or maybe I could splurge on some woven John Robshaw or one of these Jonathan Adler black and whites? Ooooooooooh. And the console behind the couch could use a big light green ferny type of plant. And put something on the wall by the stairs, for God's sake. Also, that stain on the floor--never noticed it before I took this picture. Scary.

Muchas gracias.

Tuesday, November 27, 2007

The Devil Wears Tight Shirts

About four years ago, I received one of Rachael Ray's 30 minute meal cookbooks for Christmas. I admit that I was excited about it; I had seen her whip up an entire meal in 30 minutes with my own eyes. I could do it too! The first menu that I tried--1 1/2 hours, and it wasn't that tasty. I thought that maybe I had picked the one dud in the book. But no, I tried another recipe and.... 1 1/2 hours. That's when I decided that Rachael Ray was a fraud. A charlatan. Not only that, but her shirts were way too tight

and she clearly has adult ADHD. I thought that Rachael Ray would eventually go away.

Did this woman make a deal with the devil? I was at the grocery store tonight and saw her at every fucking turn. Two huge book displays, her magazine at every checkstand, her face in other magazines pushing Dunkin Donuts and Ritz, her voice on the loudspeaker advertising something that I successfully blocked out.... Even thinking about her talk show makes me want to take a valium. When I saw on the tabloid covers several months ago that she was getting a divorce, I couldn't help myself, I was delighted. I feel ashamed about this last part, but only a little bit. Her omnipresence is inexplicable to me (with the exception of the devil dealing business; that would explain everything).

Rather than have this post be all about anger and evil, I'm going to tell you about the tv chef that I do love, the one who is beautiful and perfect and calm:

It's true. I used to hate Giada De Laurentiis because she was beautiful and perfect and because her show is akin to soft porn. But then I made her sweet potato fries with basil salt and garlic mayo and they were delish. Same with her fra diavolo and lemon spaghetti. When I made her panzanella for Easter last year, it made me a freaking superstar within my extended family. It still rankles me when she pronounces "mozzarella" and other Italian words with the big Italian accent, and it still makes me uncomfortable when I am with my children and the sexy music plays while she is swirling olive oil in a pan. But man, her food is good and she is the real deal, unlike another tv cook (not a chef in my book) who shall remain nameless, but please refer to the first paragraph for a hint.

Buon appetito this holiday season!

Thank you to Forever Chic, who led me to The Rachael Ray Sucks Community. I have been laughing (out loud even) at some of the comments, and I will post some of the better ones for you here. By the way, my new favorite way to insult someone is to call him or her "Mrs. Asshat."

From rachael idiot:

Ok, chowder and soup is now "choup"??? OMG she is such a freaking asshole.

From actress48:

People like her will end up with nothing. She is so undeserving of everything she has. But I believe in Karma and it will come back to bite her on the ass.
Maybe Emeril will go BAM on her skanky ass.

And finally from nytetyger, on which "Raytard-ism" he hates the most:

when she pauses at the end of a stupid statement (as in, "Now that hotdog and cheez whiz casserole is for ME!") and points with her thumbs towards herself (like a posessed monkey imitating 'the fonz') and emphasizes "me" as if we'd not know whom exactly she was referring to with that word.

that, and 'delish,' which was used in my family long before the jerk was on tv, but which now cannot be used for fear of someone thinking you like mrs asshat.

Friday, November 23, 2007


TO: Most subjects on TLC's What Not to Wear, you know who
you are


RE: Your hair

CC: Clinton Kelly and Stacy London

Please, please let Nick Arrojo cut your hair. Don't outwardly fret about it, don't cry about it, and don't refuse it. I am speaking in particular to the 35 year old nanny with the hair down to the butt, but really this is for all who freak out about Nick cutting your hair. Let's be honest here. You were selected to be on this show out of thousands, which means you have some atrociously bad taste. This includes your hair; there's nowhere but up for you, darling. Do not ruin the makeover by not doing the hair. It's like wearing dirty Crocs with a cocktail dress. I know that Nick's hair is currently looking a bit long, greasy and unkempt (he looked so much better when he had the buzz cut), but please trust him. He is not out to sabotage you; that would make him look bad too. Don't you get it?

Maybe it would make you feel better to know that hair grows back. Yes, it does. And you can change the color at home if you don't like it. I swear it's true! You can even buy some of the Jessica Simpson and Ken Paves hair extensions if you really don't like your new look. Please just give Nick a shot. He rarely misses. If I were you, I'd be more worried about Carmindy and her apparent willingness to pimp any product out there.



We are the fourth owners of our 9 year old house (I know, is it built over an Indian burial ground or something?). There are many things that I love about this house. It has a dignified Georgian-esque exterior, a great floorplan and big ol' kitchen. And perhaps most importantly, it does not have that niche in the living room that predetermines where the tv is going to be. I know it's not cool to love a newish house with no character, but after living for years in a very old house, I am all in favor of some sparkly newness and something called water pressure. But our house did have 3 previous owners; owners who thought that lots of bright yellow accent walls and vine stenciling and navy floral Waverly window treatments were what my house deserved.* But that's not all. The time has come for them to be called out for the visual damage they did to my dear house:

1. Ceiling fans. There are 7 ceiling fans in my house. Seven! To give you some perspective, the bathrooms and the dining rooms are the only ones without. They are all some variation on country or traditional decor, all u-g-l-y you ain't got no alibi. They cramp my style big-time. Here is the master bedroom:

Yes, I do have a duvet cover but it had just been washed and it's such a bitch to put on. I do perhaps need more pillows. I'll get on that. Anyhow, you get the basic idea.

And we pan out....

BLECHHHHHHHHH! God, do I hate that ceiling fan with its fake milk glass shades and its brass rod and base and its overhead lighting. Hate it. Someday I will host a Cinco de Mayo party and it will be my pinata. This rooms needs a chandelier. And a little bit of color, but I really can't get past the ceiling fan. Side note: those are my red espadrilles that my 2 year old drags out pretty much every day. Does she not know that espadrilles are summer shoes? You will also note a photo collage hanging on the wall. Not a big fan of these, but I am trying to live with it.

Want more? This is the guest bedroom (also note that anorexic curtain rod generously left to us):

Had enough?

The office. One light bulb is burnt out and not changing it is my way of disrespecting the fan. Overhead lighting sucks, does it not? Moving on....

2. Movie-star bathroom lighting in the guest bath and master bath (pictured).

Another light bulb in need of replacement, another way of shaming the light fixture.

3. Vertical blinds on the sliding glass doors. There is no photographic record of these, thank God. Although they are now ripped down, they stayed up for a while because I didn't want our neighbors or potential killers to get a full view. Then I just decided screw it, I would rather live in a fishbowl and perhaps be murdered than be subjected to the awfulness of having to look at them every day. Is there any window treatment more offending to the eye? That question is not rhetorical and the answer is "no." I wish the sliding glass doors were French doors, but this is something I can live with.

4. Wall-to-wall carpet in the dining room. Who does this? I'll tell you who does this: the same person who put wall-to-wall in the master bath. I am not being modest when I tell you that I have mad carpet cleaning skillz.

That's it. Just had to stand up for my house and let the world know that these things are not acceptable. But it is mainly the ceiling fans that get my goat.** Somebody spent a lot of cash on those things, especially when you factor in installation. And it will cost me a lot of money to have them all taken down and replaced. Depressing. All right then. Off to change some light bulbs because really, the only person it's hurting is me.

*Not that I don't make mistakes, because I do. Just look at my freaking garage! But please check me into a mental hospital if I ever install any of the items mentioned above.

**Do you also have one or more ugly ceiling fans? Email me with a photo. I will post it and we shall commiserate.

Wednesday, November 21, 2007

Let's Get It On!

Happy Thanksgiving, my dear bloggy friends.
(SJP, I was so thrilled to see you on Project Runway tonight! Please help yourself to more mashed potatoes and gravy. And pie. Thanks! sgm)

photo courtesy of dockmaster, via flckr

Monday, November 19, 2007

Linky Haiku

who put you on sale
I'd wear you with this number*
now come to mama

*But in red. Update--apparently the link is not working. This will destroy the whole mysterious vibe of my poem, but here it is, the Rendition dress at Anthropologie, $138:

photo courtesy of t1855 on flckr.

Sunday, November 18, 2007

Mea Culpa

Well. Ahem. For the past few years, I have been begging my husband to agree to an artificial tree, not because I particularly liked them but because I thought that it was the eco-friendly choice. I felt such guilt ripping a tree from the ground just so we could doll it up and smell it for 30 days. Little did I know that artificial trees are actually eco-evil-to-the-core. And somewhat tacky, but I already knew that. I hate being wrong (and having no power of persuasion), but I am also feeling relieved of my self-righteous burden. I just love that evergreen smell.

photo courtesy of perfect_hexagon on flckr

Thursday, November 15, 2007


Attention please. This is directed to anyone out there over 15 years of age using "69" in his or her email address: STOP IT.

I know 2 people who have the suggestive number in their email addresses; I am related to one (by marriage, I feel compelled to add) and I am merely acquainted with another (which is even worse). I love a good dirty joke, but execute it properly. This is funny. Getting a "69" email from the guy who is organizing your class reunion is not. It is creepy. I don't care if you were born in 1969 or you wore #69 on your high school jersey--no one will recall this when seeing your email in her inbox. And no, email addresses of this kind cannot be used ironically.

For the love of God, and for the sake of my mind's eye, get a new email address. Thank you.

photo courtesy of ashleigh ide on flickr

Wednesday, November 14, 2007

Quite possibly the best compliment evah

Recently my 6 year old told me that he thought his aunt, my sister, looked like Liesl Von Trapp. And it's kind of true. My sister almost passed out when I told her; sadly, I didn't get any of those Von Trapp genes.

Incidentally, the actress who played Liesl, Charmian Carr, is an interior designer. Michael Jackson was one of her clients for many years in the 80s and he was a freak even then. I can't really find any photos of her work but she does design custom furniture (and sell canine shampoo?). It's crazy expensive and not my style, but I can't bring myself to make fun of Liesl so check it out here if you like.

Monday, November 12, 2007

In case you haven't heard,

Lucky magazine and I have broken up. Read the update here. No, really, I'm fine; it's all for the best. My last issue was bittersweet, all at once affirming my decision (off the shoulder dresses for daytime, anyone?) yet reminding me of the good things that Lucky still has to offer. So I just wanted to give you a bit of the good without having to endure the bad. Here are some fantastic Lucky Breaks:

--25% off everything at Heidi. Just enter "luckybreaks1" at checkout. Fab gift wrap, $15 (sale price $11.25) for 4 sheets of 24" x 36":

--25% off everything at Jayson Home & Garden; enter "luckybreaks6" at checkout. This is what I like:

Bargello Chevron Pillow, $145, on sale for $108.75. Loved it ever since I spied it on Liz Lange's sofa.

Greta Table, $245, on sale for $183.75. So delicate.

Abbott Club Chair, $2280, on sale for $1710. YUMMY.

All right then. I will never speak on this subject again, unless provoked. Suck it, Lucky.

Friday, November 9, 2007

Taking the real out of reality

I deliberately do not have TiVo or any other sort of dvr because 1) I do not need to further feed my tv addiction and 2) I would be so busy watching my shows that it would be unlikely that I would stumble upon reality shows that no one admits to watching, such as The Real Housewives of Orange County on Bravo*:

Have you seen this? Oh my God, you don't have to admit it to me or even yourself but this show is brilliant and horrifying and you will wrinkle your brow in disbelief so many times that you will need a good hit of Botox. Where do I even begin?

For those of you who do not watch, here's a quick rundown. The show follows the lives of five rich, white, highly plasticized women in Coto de Caza, a gated community in Orange County. The show opens with each woman saying some variation of "I love money and/or I rule." Tamra, the new housewife this season, has delighted me with her opening quote, "I am the hottest housewife in Orange County." You love it already, don't you?

Orange County must be code for "another planet" because these women's lives have no semblance to real life. They are in their own little orbits where sequined halter tops and enormous fake breasts** are de rigueur, where everyone has a savant-like knowledge of Mercedes-Benz and where a bad day means having to pump your own gas.

I could write for hours about this show, but I will limit myself to describing my two favorite characters. First, there's Tamra:

And yes, honey, that is a jello shot in her hand. I was a little wary of her due to her "hottest housewife in Orange County" comment but she really is quite beautiful. Most of her drama surrounds her 21 year old son Ryan, who was the result of some high school lovin' gone too far. He's moving back in with Tamra and her current husband which is causing all sorts of tension because Ryan is a bit of a scamp and the husband is kind of an a-hole. I fell for Tamra when she told Ryan to "get yo shit togetha," which is something that a real person, including myself, would say. She and I also share the same ringtone, which was a happy coincidence for me.

Then there is Vicky. She is insane. For real. Here she is on her way to buy a Mercedes for her adult daughter just because "she's good kid" and because "I can't ground [her], I can't spank [her], so I've got to have some means of control." And she's dead serious. Healthy, no?

Vicky has an intense, frenzied quality about her, even when she's sitting down eating lunch. You get the feeling that at any moment she's going to pop up and scream at the waiter or laugh maniacally or have an aneurysm because she's stabbing her salad so hard. She also does these ear-splitting "WOO HOOs" that Bravo draws out in an echo-y, horror movie fashion. My favorite Vicky moment was at the end of Season 2 when she made a surprise (i.e. unwelcome) visit to her son at the University of Colorado. One moment she's sobbing hysterically at the rebuff and the next moment she's doing a kegstand with his friends. How can you not like a person who can rebound like that?

I could go on about the others and their collective children, but I will not. Rest assured that they are all entertaining. To the show's credit, it is not all about fluff; all of these women have careers even though they don't need the money, and a few (go Vicky!) reached millionaire status even before the show's free advertising. And really, pretty much everyone has something likable going on, even Lauri, who has so many problems I don't even know where to start. So if you haven't caught this show, try it--the writer's strike is a perfect excuse to watch some down and dirty reality tv (with the exception of I Love New York 2 and A Shot at Love with Tila Tequila, which even I don't watch. Much.). Enjoy!

* I watched Season 2 last year but Bravo led me to believe that there would be no Season 3. How fortuitous was it that I happened upon the season opener? Regarding the photo, I have scoured the web and cannot find a picture of the current cast. The "housewife" in the middle, Jo, has been replaced by Tamra. And thank God, because Jo and her boyfriend Slade (aka Babytalker and Creepy Guy Who's Actually Kind of Cute) were the personification of fingernails on a chalkboard.

**Lord knows that I am not opposed to plastic surgery. A bra-fitter recently exclaimed to my friend Charlene, "look at what [your children] did to you!" While this comment was not at all tactful or kind, it is true (not about Charlene in particular, just child-bearers in general). I have no objection to inflating and or lifting should a person so desire, but these breasts are so enlarged that you can't help but focus on the skin near the armpit that is pulled so tight and thin that it looks painful.

Thursday, November 8, 2007

I'm sorry to dwell on this, but I have no choice

I feel compelled to alert you to the sham that is Lucky Magazine. I was going about my business, checking Lucky's Cute Outfit of the Day (read more about it in this post), and saw this woman's itty bitty teeny tiny image.

It jumped out at me. Such a sassy pose! I thought for sure that she must have something fab going on with her dress or shoes. Maybe ankle boots? Colored pumps? I clicked on her eye-straining image and saw this:

Those shoes. Her toes are spilling out and she is touching the floor with them. Is she not?* It's not exactly a peep toe, but more of I-had-to-cut-off-the-top-of-my-orthopedic-heels-because-my-
corns-are-just-killing-me shoe. I can't even say anything nice about the color. And what's that white junk on the heel? Couldn't she get it cleaned up a bit for the photo shoot? I have two things to say about all of this.

1) These shoes are (allegedly) Chloe, and I'm sure that Laurie Trott, senior fashion editor, paid a mint for them. If these shoes were Easy Spirit (yeah, I linked it), she would have been fired on the spot. Or maybe she was fired on the spot, only to tear off one shoe and say "look! look! Chloe!" and her boss tried to make amends by giving her Cute Outfit of the Day. In this case, Lucky is just another brand whore turning a blind eye to an ugly shoe because it bears a big name.

2) In the event that the above scenario did not happen, we must assume that this was in fact the best outfit that Lucky employees had to offer on November 5. What, was everyone else at the office wearing pajama pants and Crocs? Oh, Lucky. You let us peek behind the curtain only to show us this? It's not worth it; you're ruining your credibility.

So listen up, Lucky. You and your "sister" Domino had better quit these shenanigans because I don't have time for this. I need to be concentrating on reality tv and finishing up that Halloween candy, not running two magazines from afar. I'd better start seeing your employees in some honest-to-goodness cute outfits or else you will lose my $10 a year. And then you'll be sorry. Very sorry indeed.

*Why are their images so grainy? Even on their own website? Why not large and sharp, Lucky? Hmmmm? Suspicious.

UPDATE: It is OVER between Lucky and me. Today I received my last issue of Lucky in the mail, with all of that "Renew now so you don't miss an issue!" urgency and hurry your ass up because the extra-special rate for preferred subscribers is $17.97 for 1 year. Wow, what a deal! Until you look in the magazine and every subscription card is $12/year. This is how you treat me? I have done nothing but try to help you. I'm done, Lucky. Done.