Friday, June 29, 2007

(Mis)adventures in the Beauty Drawer

I am sitting at work in an otherwise empty office, on Friday at 6:36 pm. To be totally honest, I have had no work to do since at least 5:53; unfortunately, if I had left then I would have had to use my time wisely -- i.e. go to the gym -- and the longer I stall, the less time I have to do anything but catch an uptown train to the show I'm seeing tonight. In the interim, I have given myself a make-over from the beauty drawer. It wouldn't have taken forty-three minutes, except I tried -- for the first time in my life -- to put on a set of false eyelashes.

I have never understood false eyelashes -- shouldn't they be reserved for people with no eyelashes? Basically the effect they achieve is that you have two sets of eyelashes -- one very poorly attached, as though you have just been in a particularly grisly bar fight -- and a cataract, thanks to all of the glue that ends up actually in your eye. It would take an incredibly deft and hand-eye coordinated person to even do a passable job of putting these things on, and I am (clearly, undisputedly, genetically) not that person.

Anyway, now that I've pulled off many of my real eyelashes in the process of removing the fake ones, it's finally time for me to go. Have great weekends, kids, and remember: God only gave you one set of eyelashes for a reason.
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Monday, June 25, 2007

Woman Down

You know how, when you're wearing a skirt on a hot summer day, your thighs get kind of swollen (due to heat) and sticky (ditto)? And then they kind of smack together when you walk, making you feel like the biggest cow on Earth? Well, as I just discovered, the most depressing thing in the world is when you trip over your own thighs.

That is all.
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Monday Venting

I don't have it in me to compose a cohesive, witty diatribe, so instead, you get stream of consciousness bitching. Apologies.

1. Why aren't there any cute 41-cent stamps? Doesn't the post office know that people have to mail out wedding invitations, and that the Liberty Bell and/or the American flag perhaps do NOT fit the wedding theme, unless the theme is "God Bless America", in which case what is wrong with you?

2. Why, when people are stuffed on a shoulder-to-shoulder crowded subway, do they try to move toward the door before the train stops? They stand up from their seat and just kind of stand awkwardly, crotch to crotch with the person in front of them, until the train rolls to a stop, and then -- THEN -- they move. Seriously? Did that really cut down on travel time for you, moron?

3. Why, every time that I schedule a dental or doctor appointment, does my boss call me in to an important meeting ten minutes before I have to leave? Is he psychic? And, if so, is he evil? Regardless, will he pay for my future root canals?

Anyone with answers, please chime in.
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Friday, June 22, 2007

Curmudgeon of the Week: Bryan Ambition

My co-worker and self-proclaimed "bitch" Bryan Ambition* agreed to be my Fabulous Curmudgeon of the Week! His answers are below, but first I wanted to include some of the emails I get from Bryan on a regular basis.
*Not his real name


Bryan on fashion:
Can you ask nick where he got his jeans from? I love them, but I'd rather die than admit I don't know a brand ;-)

Bryan on ordering in lunch (note the crying face at the bottom used for emphasis):
Cozy gets my vote, and not some pussy salad.
I want the motherfucker burger.
Hopelessly yours,
Bryan ;-(



Bryan on (possibly) gay interns:
Is our newest member a brother of the rainbow, or does he shop at the nike store? ;-)
(sometimes my metaphors kill even me)



Rotten. Ya’ll are just rotten.We need more male interns in this office. STRAIGHT male interns.I’m so sick of the gays. The estrogen levels (not including my bursting testosterone tanks) are just overwhelming.


Bryan on celebrities (sent via his BlackBerry, obviously. We don't get celebs in our offices):
And just so everyone knows, i'm sitting next to adam brody and j.c. Chasez. Go me.


Bryan on Judaism:
So is a bar mitzvah when you do it on a bar? And a bat mitzvah when you do it with a....nevermind


Name: Bryan Ambition

Age: 22 *
*add about four years

Provenance: Dirty Jersey

Occupation: Fashion Editor extraordinaire

Top Five Pet Peeves: slow walkers, slow walkers who smoke, sperm-shaped eyebrows, obnox fur, kathy griffin

If you could blight one thing from the Earth, what would it be? Personal intolerance

Okay, hypothetical: You’re on trial for murder. You’re claiming justifiable homicide. Who did you kill and why? Some lazy, bigot bastard redneck from southwestern pennsylvania who just beat up a high-school kid because he wore a neckerchief to school.

What makes you (irrationally) lose it? ignorance

You must like some things. What are they? Mirrors, madonna, karaoke, sequins, fluorescent colors, metallic finishes, sitcom DVDs, avant-garde performance art.

Do you believe in true love? Sure.

What’s your favorite curse word/phrase? FUCK!
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Wednesday, June 20, 2007

Protect Me From Myself

Just to be clear, I didn't plan on interviewing myself for "Curmudgeon of the Week". It's just that I didn't want to scrap my only recurring column after one week due to lack of available curmudgeons. Please email me if you'd like to be featured! Names can be changed to protect the crotchety!
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Sunday, June 17, 2007

Going Bridal

DISCLAIMER TO ALL WHO ORGANIZED AND ATTENDED MY BRIDAL SHOWER : I LOVED my bridal shower. I had a fabulous time. It is simply my nature to pick things apart and snark about them.

My mom and my sister threw me a wonderful bridal shower this Saturday, despite the fact that, with 82 years between them, neither had ever actually attended one.

Bridal showers are a strange custom no matter what -- the whole affair generally resembles your four year-old birthday party, starring you as a somewhat infantilized pretty pretty princess -- but they are especially vexing for the modern-day bride. Showers originated as a way to give poor brides-to-be the dowry that their family couldn't afford, so assuming you're not destitute, you feel a little bit, well, greedy. This feeling multiplies when you realize that you already have most of what you are registered for ... it's just that the registry items are so much nicer than yours. And generally more expensive. So not only are your nearest and dearest shelling out money for plane tickets, new outfits, and hotel rooms, they're also buying you more expensive versions of things you already own. I think "Bridezilla" is not really the term, it's more like "asshole".

Anyway, I arrived promptly at two o'clock to find my mother and my almost mother-in-law cutting up crudites. The living room was abloom with flowers, cupcakes were stacked to the high heavens, and mimosas were flowing. Did I already say I loved my shower? I totally did.

At first it was just like any other party: people showed up, got a drink, and schmoozed. I tried to pretend I was just another guest, as I am not, generally, comfortable with being the center of attention, but that's the thing about being a bride -- you are always on display, like it or not. Thankfully, mimosas were nearby, and three in quick succession took the edge off.

I had to be drunk, I think, to handle the Present Opening. The last time a crowd of people watched me open presents, I was ten years old. My mother, by way of ice-breaking, told a story about my third or fourth birthday party, at which I greeted guests at the door by asking "Where's my gift?" I think I should start answering the door like that all the time; nervous and unprepared friends will start handing over keychains and half-empty packs of gum. But I digress.

Faced with a huge crowd of people, present opening takes on a theatrical feel. Each gift is presented, the card is read, the paper is ripped off, and the contents must be held up for public viewing. The bride must seek out the face of the gift-giver in the crowd (tough if you have had five mimosas) and say as genuine a thank you as she can muster given her inebriation (drunkeness is not required, obviously, but I like to think it lent a special something to the proceedings). Then, as if the ceremony weren't already the most formal present-opening performance you've ever given, the gift and the giver are recorded by your very own scribe (otherwise known as your sister). It is truly a surreal experience. But it's not over yet! Your very talented and very patient friend has spent the whole time making you a fetching hat made of bows and a paper plate! You must wear it and pose for pictures, and try to remember who gave you the gift adorned with a bell, 'cause that really added a certain je ne sais quoi to the whole ensemble.

I received, in case you want to know, one glass cake stand, a 13-piece Calphalon cooking set, various potions designed to make me look and feel lovely, and approximately 80 pieces of lingerie. Ladies, if you still think you want to stay sober for your shower, think about holding up a see-through teddy and matching thong in front of your mother-in-law and hearing one of your friends call out "Jeff will love that!"

A mimosa sounds pretty good right about now, doesn't it?

I'll leave you with a photo of some of my lovely friends who came out to celebrate my avoidance of spinsterhood:

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Thursday, June 14, 2007

Secret Obsession


My friend Jess (who I started hanging out with partially because she was my biggest blog fan, for which I will always love her) told me about this site ... wait, I'm not going to post the link yet, listen to my navel-gazing first ...


I have an admitted obsession with celebrities, but my obsession is so big that it has different offshoots, departments, and amendments. I like looking at websites that speculate as to the plastic surgery stars have had (everyone's had something done, even people that don't look plastic ... ahem, Salma Hayek). I also especially like Blind Items about stars doing cocaine or having incontinence problems. I LOVE looking at celebrities without make-up. I've spent more time Googling this particular topic than I will mention. When I see some gossip rag claim that a celebrity is not wearing make-up when really she is just wearing great foundation and nude lip gloss, I get totally, irrationally angry. I want to see craters, people! I want to see under-eye bags big enough to keep my keys in!


My holy grail, though, is celebrities un-Photoshopped.


Jess sent along this link. Click on Portfolio and then click through the various photos at the bottom. If you move your mouse off the photo you get the edited version, mouse on shows you what the celebrities really look like. The sad thing about this site is that everyone looked pretty great before Photoshop, they just had thicker thighs, rollier tummies, and wider jaws. My favorite by far is Katherine Heigl, whose enormous breasts get lifted and cinched. If you move your mouse on and off really fast, they bounce.


Oh my God. I have way too much time on my hands.



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Monday, June 11, 2007

To my father, many miles away

Over the weekend my dad, who is in Johannesburg, South Africa, was held at gunpoint while having dinner with associates in a Japanese restaurant. Everyone was forced to hand over their cell phones and cash, and then forced back into the kitchen where they waited, with their heads between their knees, until their assailants had left. I found this out yesterday, while having drinks with friends. It is terrifying to know that you have no control over the safety of your family when they are out of sight.

This morning I received an email from Dad, who, though shaken, is OK. He wrote: "My greatest thought, while crouched on the floor of the kitchen, was that I hoped I survived to walk you down the aisle. And I have!"

Get home safe, Daddy. I love you.
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Friday, June 8, 2007

There's Something in the Water

... and I ain't talking about that super strain of tuberculosis! Another of my dearest friends is engaged! Tom proposed to my high school savior Anna in Hawaii as the lava flowed in the background. The happy couple:




This is crazy! I have four friends getting married in the next year or so. Which means So. Much. Electric. Slide.



Sweet.
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Curmudgeon of the Week

One of my oldest and dearest friends, Ms. Adrianna aka A-Track, agrees to be my curmudgeon guinea pig, and lets loose about Yankees (hiss!), her fiance Matt, currently across the world studying wild dogs in Botswana (Yay! Except for the phone cards), and how to curse the Greeks.




Name:
Adrianna aka "Adri" aka A-Track

Age:
26.5, but I must be getting old because I too often have to stop and do some math before I can remember my age

Curmudgeon Age (i.e. how old is your inner curmudgeon-- 50? 76? 93?)
Inner curmudgeon is definitely in her 40's because she still likes to dance with girlfriends, but doesn't have a tolerance for loud children and teens in public.

Provenance:
Brooklyn. Although according to others, it might as well be Puerto Rico, the Dominican Republic, or Egypt.

Occupation:
Life-time student. Official title is 'Ph.D. Candidate', but so far that has yet to impress people or get me respect. But give me another year and then you'll have to call me Doctah.

Top Five Pet Peeves:
1. California driving manners;
2. When people say 'that's SO funny' without laughing
3. Yankee fans and anything that they do;
4. Long-distance calling plans to Botswana that have time-delays of at least 2 seconds;
5. Wearing a ring all the time (because how are you supposed to put on adequate amounts of hand lotion without getting it all up in the ring?)
Extra: Am I allowed to say 'checking Una's blog just to find out that she hadn't updated it recently' to the list, or is that not appropriate here?

If you could blight one thing from the Earth, what would it be?
Yankee fans, no doubt. It would help people in all parts of society, brighten the futures of countless children, and bring peace to the streets of New York City and New England.

Okay, hypothetical: You're on trial for murder. You're claiming justifiable homicide. Who did you kill and why?
My roommates, because they left so many dishes in the sink and hoarded away so many glasses in their rooms. I kidnapped both the hippies and then forced them to eat meat to death like that glutton guy in the movie Seven. (Unfortunately, I came up with that way too fast. It's not necessarily justifiable, but it sure makes me feel better)

What makes you (irrationally) lose it?
When calls to Botswana don't go through on the phone and all I get are automated bitchy voices at the other end. I flip and it ain't pretty. If only those automated ladies could be used as a punching bag or pinata ...

You must like some things. What are they?
The Mets. Fudge (minus the accompanying stomach pains). Celebrity gossip. Sweet smelling flowers. Dancing in the car to songs by Ne-Yo as a performance for the truckers. Being gifted a new entry on Una's blog when I check it as part of my daily routine.

Do you believe in true love?
Word. Ever since Princess Buttercup threw herself down the hill after Wesley, I've been a believer of twue wove. Love is as true as you can get with someone.

Pick one: I prefer …
Rainbows VS Thunderstorms
-- rainbows (I'm still chicken shit when I hear thunder)
Sweet VS Spicy
-- tongue likes spicy, digestion prefers sweet
Comedy VS Drama
-- comedy, when it's quality
Elizabeth VS Jessica (what do you mean, who are they? They are the
Sweet Valley Twins! Did you not read in 1991?)
-- Elizabeth, because Jessica was stupider and bitchier. Of course I read those books! Why do you think I was allowed to hang out with Una in Elementary School.

What's your favorite curse word/phrase?
I still chuckle every time I hear the classic Greek curse which translates into 'bite a ball' said while grabbing your crotch. I make it rain on them hos!
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Thursday, June 7, 2007

Free to Be (You and) Me

I would not have taken this long to post if my f***ing home internet worked more often. In the interest of full disclosure, though, we "borrow" it from the apartment above ours, so I guess I shouldn't complain. And lest you think "borrowing" wireless is wrong, well, that's what passwords are for. If you leave your wireless naked and free and exposed, well, then, honey, you are asking for it.

Anyway, I had a good day last Friday. I got to interview Denis Leary, eat food at a Jean-Georges restaurant (only a few bites, but they were given to me by Mr. Leary, so they were sort of celebrity bites), and then I scored over $1,000 worth of free products from work. Bryan cleans out the beauty drawer once a month or so, and the efficiency and speed with which I snatch things suggests that I have great untapped talent in the art of cat burglary. Seriously, I was like a Supermarket Sweeps contestant on crack. I went for the really expensive stuff -- $250 face creams, Chanel, Dior -- but I took armfuls of more plebian fare, too. This behavior has earned me the questionable reputation of being someone who will take anything that's free. As a result I often find half-eaten cookies, ugly tote bags, and Precious Moments figurines on my desk. The fact that I keep them based solely on their free-ness tells me I've earned my rep.

Some people who follow strict diets but will eat anything that's free are labeled "Freegans". I do not by any measure of the imagination follow a strict diet, but I will make a meal out of gin and lemon wedges if it's free. That way I don't have to buy groceries. Sure, my skin has taken on a yellow tinge lately, and I'm pretty sure I haven't had a vegetable in over a week, but I have all of those chintzy face creams to hide my sallow cheeks and I take my multi-vitamin every day, so I'll probably live. (Mom -- I kid, I kid. Though the vegetable thing could be true. Do french fries count?)

Moving along, on Tuesday I got to see my friend Lin win a Theatre World award for his debut Off-Broadway performance in "In the Heights" (it's moving to Broadway in the fall, so see it now while tickets are cheap!). Among the award presenters were Alec Baldwin and Barbara Cook, and many other very old theater legends who mostly got depressed looking up at the photo of themselves projected on the screen above the podium, all of which dated back to1952. Way to make them feel close(r) to death, Theatre World!

Tonight I'm seeing my dear friend Kerry, who's back in New York for the summer, and tomorrow I'm seeing someone else who's been cheating on the city with Philadelphia -- Ms. Zoe LaMarche! That's right, the littlest curmudgeon is back in my clutches. I'm going to take her shopping for her maid of honor dress, although I haven't told her yet that what I really want her to wear is that adorable Hershey's Kiss costume. After all, one of the wedding colors is brown. I want her to roll down the aisle, and instead of flowers, she'll throw Hershey Kisses into the crowd!

I'll let her pick her own shoes, though. It's only fair.
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