Tuesday, September 30, 2008

Holly GoHomely: It Is Kenley's Fault that I Don't Recap Expediently. Well, Hers and Also Pinot Noir's.

Damn, y'all, I am bad at being a recapper. I mean, I would love it if it was my only job, but since it's not, I have no motivation to actually recap in a timely manner. Also every Wednesday I get way too drunk while watching Project Runway and then sort of forget about it.

But I've been thinking, next year I think I'm going to make a blog resolution to recap a few of my favorite shows. Like how last year I blogsolved to blog at least 240 posts in 2008 (or at least 20 posts per month) and I am totally doing it (and yes, you could argue that my posts now tend to be less substantive and more stream-of-consciousness, but you know what? Shut up.)

Anyway, so, yeah, Proj Run. There have been two episodes since I last recapped. And I honestly can't remember them very well because I was doing my loud Kenley impersonation (basically repeating "I think I nailed it!" over and over in a nasal voice and then laughing obnoxiously) throughout. Let me go refresh my memory and I'll redeem myself tomorrow at the latest.

Friday, September 26, 2008

No Dread Jacket, No Cry

I was alerted to this by my NY fashion correspondent:

To hijack and edit a quote from Clueless, it is one thing to spark up a doobie and get laced at parties, but it is quite another to actually wear Bob Marley.

Read more here.

Thursday, September 25, 2008

John McCain Takes the Physical Challenge

Amazingly, the New York Post inspired me this morning. I play a little game every day on the subway where I try to read the Post headline on other people's papers, which is invariably some terrible play on words (NYPD JEW), or, simply, a cartoon fight noise (SHAZAM!). But today, the headline was DOUBLE DARE. Which made me think of Marc Summers, which took me to my happy place. And then I realized that Double Dare is the prefect analogy for this whole debate debate.

In Double Dare, for those of you who missed out on the greatest game show ever made (I would like to meet the genius who thought of combining trivia with diving headfirst into whipped cream), teams of kids would get trivia questions. If one team couldn't answer, they would dare the other team to answer. If that team couldn't answer, they would double dare the original team. And then if the first team really wanted to throw down, they would take the physical challenge, which meant that instead of answering they could still win by doing a silly and completely unrelated stunt.

Sound familiar?

Wednesday, September 24, 2008

WTF, McCain?

I pretty much only communicate via Facebook status at this point.


Tuesday, September 23, 2008

Writing is Hard: Week Two

The words I pulled this week from my Word Bag were Loss, Heartbreak, and Puberty. Jesus, slit my wrists, why don't you, Word Bag. But anyway. Here are some off-the-cuff-thoughts on each:


When my first grandparent died, my grandfather on my mom’s side, I was seven. We got the call when my mother was reading me a bedtime story, and I remember being annoyed that she didn’t come back to finish it. I didn’t really know my Grandpa Max at all – I’m sure we spent some time together, but most salient in my memory is that he would buy me a package of Soft Baked chocolate chip cookies and let me eat them while he and my mom talked. As an adult I often consider buying those exact same cookies, but I never do. It’s just nice to know they still make them.

My first heartbreak was Mario in the 1st grade. I can’t even remember his last name, but I do remember the feeling when, one day at lunch, he chose to sit next to my best friend Maple van Keuren (totally her real name) instead of me. I cried right there in the cafeteria, feeling miserable and full of self-pity. I am glad that I didn’t know then what I know now – that it would get much worse.

Puberty. What a loaded word. It is as awkward as its meaning; it’s hard to say it without blushing, even; it sounds vaguely dirty. The ‘pube’ part makes me think of those diagrams, like in Our Bodies, Ourselves (which my mom got me as soon as I hit junior high, or maybe even earlier) where drawings showed the gradual growth of pubic hair – first just a few, then a little bush, then a full-grown forest. Yikes. I guess they can’t show real naked people, but those digrams just seem kind of wrong, like looking at budget pornography drawn by a child.

Stay tuned for next week's scintillating installment!

Gimme Some Credit!

Listen, I try to be a good citizen. For instance, I get my teeth cleaned. Maybe not twice a year, but at least once a year. I pay my taxes. I refrain from doing bodily harm to people with whom I do not agree, which, seeing as I ride the subway twice a day, is really something. And then today I tried to go and get my free annual credit report (from this site, which is supposed to be the only one that doesn't screw you) and I was asked to enter the account numbers of three credit cards. I entered my current Amex number and it said that number didn't match any cards on my records. I entered my old Amex number (the one I cut up to keep myself from using and then called in saying it was lost ... oops) and that didn't work either. Then it asked me for the account number on a Victoria's Secret charge card that I canceled in 2003. I know it's sketchy not to know you previous addresses, but old credit cards? Do other people really keep records of this? I can't tell if I'm irresponsible or if the credit people are fucking me over. Please advise.

McCain and Obama: Facebook Face-Off!

What? I gave you three whole days with no politics. This is hard for me.

So today I decided to check how many supporters each candidate has on Facebook, just for kicks. Turns out Obama's got over three times as many as McCain, 1,899,459 to 537,999. Which is not too surprising, since Facebook is primarily young'uns and/or elders who know how to use the Internet, neither of which are groups Johnny Straight Talk seems to cater to. But the "About me" sections of their Facebook pages were illuminating. Take a look at this highly scientific side-by-side analysis (click to enlarge):

Lets look at their answers.

On the surface, it looks like McCain has—gasp!—more website links than Barack Obama. Could it be that he is actually an internet maverick? Um, no. McCain has not one but four links to his official website: the main page; the store (free yard sign with $15 purchase!); the campaign calendar, and the "download center," featuring lots of patriotic-looking desktop images. Because people who don't know how to use the internet don't understand how to browse websites. Moving on: his YouTube channel (featuring all of his ads), his MySpace page (101,085 friends), and something called Eventful.com, which lists his upcoming appearances, but is less helpful than his own campaign calendar. Still, though, point taken: John McCain is master of websites!

Obama has a mere three websites, two of which are Facebook links: one to the Students for Barack Obama group (which is linked to his campaign site) and Michelle Obama's Facebook page (awwww). Also Barack has a Myspace (544,674 friends). No direct link to his campaign website and no blatant event info, but his choices are subtle and suave. Shout out to the wife? Love it. (And for comparison's sake, yes, Cindy does have a Facebook page.)

Softball question. Both get it right.

Relationship Status
McCain chooses not to label himself on this one (read: single and ready to mingle?); Obama once more acknowledges his wife.

Both born in August. Obama's a Leo ("The Lion;" element: Fire; secret desire: "To be a star."), McCain's a Virgo ("The Virgin (heh);" element: Earth; secret desire: "To love and be loved in return.") Super accurate star sign descriptions available at psychicguild.com.

Political Views
Obama opts out of this one; McCain's a proud conservative.

Religious Views
Obama: Christian
McCain: North Phoenix Baptist Church (Not a view)

McCain: Sports, Hiking, Fishing, Boxing, Basketball, Football, Baseball, History. (At least four of these things can be classified under the first listing.)
Obama: Basketball, writing, loafing w/ kids. (Cute! And good call not adding 'Law, ethics, race relations, nerdery')

Favorite Music
McCain: The sound of sweet, sweet lies. No, JK, he doesn't listen to music, apparently, what with the digital revolution. If only 45s were still the standard...
Obama: Miles Davis, John Coltrane, Stevie Wonder (all black!), Bob Dylan (anti-establishment!!! Also, stoner!), Johan Sebastian Bach (cello suites) (classical music = elitist, but at least he didn't pick anything with flutes), The Fugees (oh Christ, black and angry!)

Favorite Movies
McCain: Viva Zapata (Marlon Brando plays a Mexican!), Letters from Iwo Jima (really? Not Flags of Our Fathers?), Some Like it Hot (That movie does rock. Dammit!)
Obama: Casablanca (safe, even more boring than Citizen Kane), Godfather I & II (good, because judgment would be questioned if he listed Godfather III), Lawrence of Arabia, and One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. (No comedies=troubling).

Favorite Books
McCain: For Whom the Bell Tolls (of course)
Obama: Song of Solomon (Toni Morrison), Moby Dick, Shakespeare's Tragedies [Ed note: this man needs some comedy, stat!], Parting the Waters, Gilead (Robinson), Self-Reliance (Emerson), The Bible, Lincoln's Collected Writings. [Final analysis: NEEEEERRRRRRDDDDDD. But deeply spiritual nerd.]

Favorite TV Shows
McCain: 24 (awesome), Seinfeld (mmmm .... kind of lame). Also, this answer makes me think of a quote from The Office when the character of Dwight needs to select an assistant: "I will need a new number two. My ideal choice? Jack Bauer. But he is unavailable. Fictional. And overqualified."
Obama: Sportscenter (Yaawwwwwwwn. Barry, you can win me back with just two little words: 30 Rock.)

Favorite Quotations
McCain: "..." (Can we take that as 'No comment?')
Obama: "The Arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends towards justice." (MLK) [Ed note: That's what she said.]

Now the Work Info is actually the very best part, because check it: John McCain's current employer is "Running for President." Obama, it seems, is still a lowly Senator. Also McCain lists every job he's ever had (experience!), while Obama chooses to simply list his current job (can we assume that he was slacking off with that "community organizing" for awhile?)

McCain: Naval Academy, War College, yes, WE GET IT.
Obama: Columbia '83 Political with a concentration in International Relations [Emphasis mine. Very subtle, B.], Harvard Law '91. If only education was not seen as elitism. Sigh.

Contact Info
McCain: Email, phone, and snail mail!
Obama: Phone only. Barry is king of texts.


McCain: a war hero possibly looking for something on the side (MWM, 72, seeks SWF who enjoys boxing while not listening to music). Likes shows about A) torturing terrorists and B) nothing. Cannot use own website.

Obama: a smooth operator who enjoys the Bible, justice, and stoner anthems. When not shooting hoops or watching epic period dramas with his daughters, he dusts off his diplomas from elitist East Coast schools while watching Sportscenter. Probably SuperPokes his wife.

Monday, September 22, 2008

Medical Mysteries Volume 4: Fluorescent Blindness Edition

I don't know what it is exactly, but some combination of computer screen glare and overhead fluorescent lights is taking my coveted 20/10 eyesight* away. All day my eyes ache, and I can't read stuff that's over 10 feet away unless it's, like, the Key Food sign. My entire childhood, all I ever wanted was glasses, to the point where I actually bought glasses (with just plain glass, off the street for like $5) and wore them once in awhile to work. People would say, "I didn't know you wore glasses!" and I'd be all, "Yeah, I left my contacts at my boyfriend's." Anyway, now it looks like I am going to get my very own bona fide pair. Unfortunately I'll never be able to wear contacts because I have an acute phobia of things touching my eyeballs. Which I never thought about. I guess at least I can be thankful that I didn't have them during my acute awkward phase in middle school. The only thing worse than having one giant eyebrow is having four eyes beneath it.

I told my mom a few weeks ago that I was experiencing eye strain from the harsh lights in my office and she actually suggested that I wear a hat. I mean, it was a sincere piece of advice, and I'm sure it would help, but there is no hat in the world that would look like casual officewear for me. My friend Beth has a special talent which is that she never looks ridiculous in any hat. Seriously, grab any plumed, netted, 12 inch high thing off the rack at Bloomie's and it will look OK on Beth. I am like the opposite of that; I can't even wear baseball caps, let alone something like a beret or a fedora. Even winter hats look stupid on me, which is a great feat. I think it's something about the way my head is shaped. But I'm getting off-topic. The point is: hats in the workplace are not an option for me. "Then wear a visor," mom suggested. Yes, Mom. Stealth.

My question to you is: How can I save my eyes without looking like a moron? Should I just tease out some really big bangs to act as a canopy?

*I swore up and down to my friends in elementary school that I had 20/10 vision—better than 20/20—and they laughed their asses off. Well suck it, ladies.

P.P.S. Enlarge the photo and check out Meredith's face in the image on the right. She's smiling, but in a tight, hostage-y, "Help me, please" kind of a way. I can't blame her; that shirt is fucking frightening. Sadly it was not a costume; I got that God-awful thing at H&M, thinking I could pull off the 70s look. The hat might have been a joke, but I can't promise. Ah, college.

Friday, September 19, 2008

VOTE ... On Your favorite 80s snack!

When I wasn't making elaborate flow charts designed to make people feel stupid, today I tracked down some of my favorite childhood foods online.

First up: Sunkist Fun Fruits snacks. I for some reason have an unhealthy obsession with these and always crave them. They were like little pieces of Fruit Roll-Up, perfectly shaped and bite-sized.

Next: Giggles cookies. I had to Google "smiley face sandwich cookies" to find these. I remember them fondly.

Here is a close-up. They even had beanies!

And finally, Purplesauraus Rex Kool-Aid. Best flavor ever. I used to sell this at my short-lived lemonade stand when I was eleven (and subsequently learned my first business lesson: laziness pays! Mixing Kool-Aid = way better than squeezing lemons.)

Jeff wants me to add Bonkers to the list, but I maintain that they still make Bonkers. Anyone want to be the tie-breaker?


Weekend Project: Register People to Vote!

I don't think I know anyone who doesn't vote. But if you are reading this and you don't, I am using the honor system: Register to vote or stop reading this blog. Yes, I know that is cruel. I know my bon mots keep you going. But I am just going to have to get strict here.

You see, I have a deep fear of cold-calling strangers (let alone knocking on doors), so what I do to make the world a better place is A) give money to people who will cold-call and canvas and B) use this blog as my little soapbox. I am the executive of this tiny piece of real estate in the great big Internet. I am the decider.

You might be a regular voter, but I'm sure you know someone who's not. These people can be difficult to talk to because most of the time you just want to grab and shake them and deport them to a country with a fascist leader, but the least you can do is passively forward them on to this blog, where I can yell at them from the safety of my computer screen, or to an actual reputable voting site like Declare Yourself (I chose that one because it has Jessica Alba in a kind of bondage outfit, which is way sexier than your average government website).

Special bulletin to University of the Arts students ... most of whom I don't know but who do know my fabulous sister Zoe ... VOTE. You are in Pennsylvania, which is a swing state, and I don't care if you are an artist and you don't "do" the government—you are about to become starving artists in the worst American economy since the Great Depression. Think on that. Oh, and if you have a trust fund you'll be leaning on for awhile, let's hope the money's still there after this week. Also I can sic Zoe on your ass, and if you know her, you know her legs are freakishly strong.

I have constructed a handy flow chart for you or anyone you know who is not planning on voting (click to enlarge). Then watch the video below. Not only does Craig Ferguson have a delightful Scottish accent, he articulates his message in a funny and passionate way. He's not as mean as I am. But remember, I'm only mean because I care. Have great weekends, and get out the vote!


Thursday, September 18, 2008

Buy American!

Okay, so thousands of Americans are special-ordering Sarah Palin's Japanese-made frameless glasses.

A. I can't believe this is news. OK, yes I can.
B. Doesn't this kind of ... um ... not help the struggling American economy? And If Barack Obama had special-ordered $400 glasses from Japan ... well, we're lucky that's just a hypothetical.

Virginity in Ohio?

This is NOT about the election! Baby steps ...

So I have been hearing for a few days that Candace Bushnell is writing a series of Sex and the City prequels for HarperCollins that will follow Carrie during high school in , one assumes, a very un-cosmopolitan suburb. Jezebel ran an excerpt from one of Bushnell's emails today. Here is a taste:

The low self-esteem [Carrie] was working on; she had just recovered from the rhinoplasty she'd blown all her Bat Mitzvah money on. But after spending $3,000 to fix her "deviated septum," now she was too poor to take the bus to the City.

Um ... no. First of all, since when is Carrie Bradshaw Jewish? Second, Carrie has never had a nose job. Has Candance Bushnell forgotten what Sarah Jessica Parker looks like? Don't get me wrong—I love SJP's nose. But Carrie would never get a nose job. She is all about being her fabulous self. Please!

I do, however, want to know what Carrie punned about in her early years. I guess I just I can’t help but wonder what she couldn’t help but wonder about back in the '80s.

Some ideas:

...if you have chemistry with your lab partner, is it safe to turn up the Bunsen burner?
...is a hand job just a hand job if your heart gets involved? Or is it a heart job?
...if you have sex on prom night, does that make you prom-iscuous?
...if nothing comes between me and my Calvins, will I get a yeast infection?

When Refreshing Isn't Refreshing

As evidenced by, oh, the last eight months of posts, you can probably tell that I have developed a problem: I'm addicted to election coverage. The New York Times, CNN, The Huffington Post, Salon, Slate, MSNBC, The Daily Kos, BBC, hell, even Wonkette, Gawker, and NY Magazine's Daily Intel. I refresh and refresh, looking for some new fact, new poll, new scandal. People: I am behind like three weeks on US Weekly. This is bad.

The worst part is that most of the coverage makes me nervous or furious. A simple CNN headline—"Palin vows to 'shake things up'"—can set me off. Like today the New York Times ran the following:

and my inner monologue immediately went nuts: Oh, really? John McCain is not a maverick agent of change? And you say a poll found this out? What a fucking groundbreaking discovery! Worthy of a headline, I'd say!

This will not be good for my blood pressure.

Also the really depressing part is that I know that no matter the outcome of the election—though it will be dire if Chin Con-Anal Rash win—I will go into withdrawal on November 5. I can see it now: muscle memory causing me to click on 5 websites per minute, my strained and bloodshot eyes scanning the headlines for something to cling to, this blog a rambling mess of desperate political puns and conspiracy theories. But at least I'll have time to catch up on Brangelina again, so, you know, silver lining!

The Rain in Spain Falls Mainly On McCain

This is an extremely interesting developing story.

Wednesday, September 17, 2008

Project Runway: Jacked Up Beyond Belief

Check this out: It is like week 7 or some shit. And what do we have to show for it?

A sad Pocahontas reject from EuroDisney ...

um … Diana Ross? No! A Fudgsicle! …

Mrs. Peacock, in the library, without a stylist ...

Betsey Johnson’s full body harness-slash-colostomy bag …

... and a lot more. Is this season over yet?

A Change is Gonna Come

My mom forwarded me this very moving video, designed to get the black population to vote on November 4. There are images of some horrific civil rights abuses, so be prepared. But if you are feeling despair at the state of the election and need a reminder as to why it all matters, I urge you to watch this.


I'll See Your BlackBerry and Raise You a Photoshop

Have you heard about the liberal photographer who made McCain look crappy on the cover of The Atlantic on purpose? It was unprofessional, I guess, but her Photoshopped versions are pretty great.


If only the Republicans spent a little less time inventing BlackBerrys and a little more time learning Adobe Creative Suite 3. I'm just sayin'.

Writing is Hard: Week One

So I am writing once a week now, working on some stories and essays, trying to get disciplined about it. It's hard for me, because even though I love to write I'm a perfectionist so I am terrified of writing crap (which, statistically, will probably be about 95% of what I end up with). I picked up an exercise from the Lynda Barry workshop I went to in March that I use to warm up: I have a bag full of scraps of paper with words written on them (my "word bag;" yes, I am a giant dork), and I pull one out and write without stopping for 10 minutes. Then I do that two more times before I start working on my existing stuff. It's actually become my favorite part of my writing nights.

I told Jeff last night that I wasn't ready to share my work with him yet, because I am only ready for compliments, no criticism, and Jeff is honest to a fault. But I need to be able to share my work eventually, and this blog is the perfect place for over-sharing, so here is one of my exercises from last night.

Word: Secret

I am terrible at keeping secrets. I say I am good at it but that is only to get people to tell me theirs; as soon as I know a secret I have to tell someone else, to get the pressure off.

I have always been this way, I think–one of my parents’ favorite stories to tell is the time my mom and I went shopping for my Dad in like 1984 and upon returning I ran into the house yelling “DAD! We got you PANTS!” To this day if I buy a gift for Jeff it’s like as soon as I am handed the receipt I am in a race against myself not to tell him what I got. I once spent $300 on Red Sox tickets twice because I told him the first time and it ruined the surprise. Also I ended up ditching him before the game and picking a huge fight, which sort of killed the mood, but that is a whole nother story.

I am good at keeping my own secrets, but usually to my detriment. Like when I got alcohol poisoning at my high school graduation and didn’t tell my parents and had to pay the $350 ambulance bill to cover it up—that was a well-kept one. Also that I like beef jerky and sometimes shave my upper lip because I am too lazy to bleach. God help me if I die before I can delete this file and my distraught relatives find this. “She liked beef jerky and shaved her upper lip!” They would cling to these secrets as things they never knew. Ugh. I wish I could just delete it now but I’m timing myself on these exercises and promised I wouldn’t go back and edit. Damn. If I die, family, know that those two humiliating facts do not define me. Also I don’t even like beef jerky that much, only sometimes, and probably because of an iron deficiency. Moving on.

I found out a big secret last week. So now I know and all I want to do is tell everyone. The really seductive thing about telling secrets is how powerful you feel and how amazing the other person’s reaction usually is when you tell them – at least when it’s a good secret or juicy gossip. “Honey, I’m gay” probably doesn’t solicit such an enthused response.

This has nothing to do with secrets, but this room smells like cat pee and ammonia. Gross. Also there is a bag of dried blood on the floor – ostensibly for gardening, but ew. I didn’t know blood was a fertilizer. Blood and shit. Makes you think twice about eating an heirloom tomato.

Tuesday, September 16, 2008

The Sassy Curmudgeon Voter Registration Challenge

A lot of my friends are really working to register voters and canvas in swing states. My friend Betsy, who recently moved to Indiana, has organized something she calls The Barack Obama Swing State Challenge. She's organizing phone-a-thons and trying to rally the masses.

I have always bristled at the thought of cold-calling people I don't know, but I am going to try to do my part, particularly by repeatedly threatening my 18 year-old Republican cousin. But seriously, this election is so incredibly important. If you are not registered to the vote, for the love of God, do it. Nothing makes me angrier than people who do not exercise their right to vote, and if you care enough to read my random musings every day, PLEASE do this for me. And if you have any friends that aren't registered, PLEASE force them to. This website is extremely easy to use.

Also, please email me if this blog actually got you to register to vote, because then I can feel incredibly self-satisfied, and it's only Tuesday and I need it. Also I will mail you a mix CD. No joke.

Friday, September 12, 2008

Leanne and Korto Save the Day

Phew! I take it back—apparently all of the Season 5 designers showed at Fashion Week. Earlier in the day, I just saw Joe, Kenley, Suede, and Jerrell and I wanted to shoot myself. But Leanne and Korto were there too! You can preview all of the collections at the Project Runway site. On Monday I'll do a more thorough mocking recapping.

Friday News Round-Up

So here is what we learned this week*:

-A politically-named hurricane is going to hit Texas, but Texans are staring it down, high-noon style.

-Cindy McCain was a pill-popper! Like, a could-probably-self-medicate-Liz-Taylor-under-the-fucking-table pill-popper.

-Sarah Palin doesn't know shit! But she likes to shoot wolves from planes. Which kind of negates the whole "Democratic wolfpack is after Palin" ad McCain is running.

-Todd Palin might UPDATE: will get subpoenaed! Also, subpoenaed is a totally weird word!

-Charlie Gibson has got nothing on Barbara Walters and Whoopi Goldberg.

-Obama was just joshing with Letterman about doing a centerfold for Popular Mechanics, but Popular Mechanics totally called his bluff.

-McCain's lies are finally getting attention from the media, but probably won't due any good because when pressed he lies about lying.

-Joe Biden spent the week unwittingly mocking the paraplegic and questioning his own fitness for VP!

-John McCain: older than nachos.

-I have no cavities.

Have great weekends, folks.

*Also, obviously, it was the 7th anniversary of 9/11 but I am not mentioning it here because I think everyone already knows, so please do not send me hate mail.

Project Runway: Worst Season Ever?

Project Runway, are you trying to make me stop watching you??

Today was the big PR show at Fashion Week, and there were 4 designers showing (they always do that, just to throw off the viewers). But.. but ... ALL of the designers who showed seemed like decoys. 3 of the 4 of them are my sworn enemies, by which I mean I swear at the TV when I see them!!! WHY GOD, WHY????

Here are some of their designs—you tell me which one of these people is not trying to give me a seizure.


Thursday, September 11, 2008

Fashion Week: Betsey Johnson is F***ing Insane!

I have gone to one fashion show in my life as a magazine editor, which isn't very impressive until you consider that I am not at all important. The great thing about fashion week, though, is that you can judge the clothes without being there. Thank you, Style.com!

For Spring/Summer '09, Michael Kors is all about lampshade hats and baggy (yet tapered at the ankle!) tracksuits that look like somethong Sigourney Wearver's character in Working Girl would have worn to Lucille Roberts ...

Whereas sartorial scamp Marc Jacobs prefers shtetl chic...

But the batshit craziest (and by that I mean best) of them all is Bestey Johnson. And you can see her incredibly fashion-forward take on the strapless-nightie-romper-as-clown-cabaret-costume here.

Wednesday, September 10, 2008


Urge to kill ... fading.


I am getting really depressed about the election, y'all. I am starting to think that unless McCain keels over or Palin utters a racial slur on camera, the great hope of Barack Obama is going to get crushed under stupid shit like today's "lipstick on a pig" controversy, which I'm sure will come to be called Lipstick-gate, because every single fucking political scandal of any degree must have 'gate' attached to it to recall Watergate (which was actually a scandal; this is not).

Sigh. We have gotten to the point where Obama cannot use a colloquialism that has been used recently by both McCain (in reference to Hillary Clinton's healthcare plan) and Cheney (who is not dead, apparently, as he's been making public appearances) but McCain's son can call Muslims 'sand niggers' and 'dune coons' (granted, on a blog comment, which could be fake) and no one cares.

And then we have Ron Paul, who helpfully suggests that his supporters vote for third party candidates to make a statement. And here is the statement: McCain wins anyway. Someone pass me a cocktail and a foreign passport, for the love of God.

The worst part of all of this is that the media is really making a difference this year. In our celebrity-obsessed, 24 hour news coverage world, this election has become fodder for passive mud-slinging in the form of what news sites choose to cover. Making a big deal of the "lipstick" comment (and Jesus, people, he didn't say "You can put lipstick on a Bridge-to-Nowhere building, moose-dressing, self-satisfied secessionist bitch, but she's still unqualified." Whew, but me saying it sure felt good!) just makes more people aware of it. Same thing with the YouTube culture spreading McCain's attack ads like wildfire. Sure, the "liberal media" has liked Obama in the past, but they're not helping him now, are they? It's the Sarah Palin show. Hand in your uterus at the door.

On the bright side, though, I went to get my teeth cleaned today and guess what? No cavities! Also I got a free toothbrush.

Things Younger Than John McCain

The Jefferson Memorial
Duct Tape
Chocolate-Chip Cookies
Area Codes
Social Security

And those are just some of the things.

Tuesday, September 9, 2008

Why Isn't This Obama's New Ad?

The Daily Show editors should work for Obama's campaign.


Of Sparks and Sparkles

This weekend, at the wedding, I wore elaborate eye make-up that involved glitter. Just before the ceremony, I noticed a silver speck on Jeff's cheek.

"Oops, I got some sparkles on you." I said, realizing as I spoke that that is a perfect metaphor for our relationship.

P.S. Those aren't sparkles on Jeff's face, that is sweat. It was balls hot.

Special Mom Zing: Palin Pregnancy Edition

The New York Times did not print this letter from my mother, so as the second most trusted news source in the city, I shall:

To the Editor:

As a pregnant woman expecting your fifth child, boarding a plane at 36 weeks gestation knowing that your amniotic fluid is leaking means that you are willing to take the chance that you will give birth to a preterm baby - in this case one with special needs - either on the plane or in an airport. At best this is poor judgment, at worst reckless endangerment. I can't imagine any obstetrician or midwife signing off on this.

Ellen Chuse

Ellen Chuse is a Certified Childbirth Educator and serves on the Board of the Childbirth Education Association of Metropolitan New York.

Ode to Bergen-Butler

Bergen-Butler, back in the day.

This weekend Jeff and I drove up to Stockbridge, MA for the wedding of two of our close friends, Betsy and Fipp (aka Andrew). Betsy is 1/6 of what was, for a brief but sparkling period of my personal history, a group called Bergen-Butler. I am 1/6 of this group, as is Ellaree, who lived with Betsy and me at 392 Butler Street (3rd floor) from 2003-2005. The boys—Bajir, Kabir, and Alex, 3/6 all together—lived at 665 Bergen Street (3rd floor) for approximately the same amount of time. Prior to living together, each of us girls had spent time sleeping on the boys’ couch or subletting one of their rooms (Bajir in particular was wont to go off to third world countries for months at a time, Kabir toured with his folksy Illumination Band singing songs made from Rumi poems, and Alex chased an ex-girlfriend to Russia for a spell.) All six of us were in love with each other, mostly platonically but occasionally romantically (though those bouts of heartsickness were never shared with the objects of our affections, let alone consummated). The boys fed us vegetarian curry and screened Alex’s film-nerd movies on their elaborate audio-video set-up, while we girls introduced them to reality TV, made up songs for them, and drew them elaborate cartoons (well, that was all Ellaree).

When I lived with the boys for a few months, they introduced me to the ‘Stairway Clean,’ which involved cleaning the entire three-bedroom apartment in the 7 or so minutes it took to play “Stairway to Heaven.” I remember these cleans as being rather Zen up until the bridge, when we realized that we only had 60 seconds to finish, at which point we would scream and scrub and fling ourselves with only nanoseconds to spare onto the couch. The boys also introduced me to some rather suspect house rules, such as “if one person takes his shirt off, everyone has to” and the practice of ordering any house member at any time to do push-ups.

Back at the girl house, we shared lots of pajama time and encouraged each other to quit smoking, usually while puffing on cigarettes out of Betsy’s open window. Betsy and Fipp had started dating in college, and so none of us ever really knew her without him. There was a brief break-up in 2004, during which Kabir came bearing his guitar and his Beatles songbook, and we all crowded around our wounded member as if the mere strength of all 6 of us together could heal anything. It could. We have all survived break-ups, fights (with each other), evictions, and even police visits (not our fault) without losing the incredible, easy love we have for each other. We are family, albeit a goofy one.

Betsy’s wedding was the second wedding in the group, Jeff’s and mine being the first, and so far we have all made it to both (a pact dating back to 2005). We all came to Stockbridge out of love for Betsy, but we also came for each other, to recapture the amazing feeling of not just revisiting but essentially going back to the time when we all lived just blocks from one another. We laughed so loud this weekend, drank so much, stayed up so late, and bonded so deeply that it was like recharging a battery in my heart; I think we all wished that we could have stayed, suspended in time, in this weekend forever. (Happy wedding, Bets and Fipp—thanks for one of the best times I’ve ever had.)


Wednesday, September 3, 2008

Project Runway Recap!

I have been so terrible about my Project Runway recaps, y'all. I'm sorry. Maybe if someone wants to pay me full time to watch TV and blog about it I can start getting these things in on time. Until then, I will leave the thorough recapping to bloggers luckier than I.

So, I am just going to skip the drag challenge, because it is old news now AND I can't remember any of the drag queens' names except for Hedda Lettuce and Sweetie. Suffice to say Daniel had impeccable taste, as evidenced by the photograph below:

If Moonstruck-era Cher had a threesome with Wilson Cruz (Ricky on My So-Called Life, and if you needed to be reminded, give yourself a smack from me) and one of those generic bodega bins of sherbet, this would be their love child.

Read the whole recap here.

Tuesday, September 2, 2008

She Said/He Said

Liveblogging the Republican National Convention.

Una: I know this is kind of off-limits, but Cindy McCain looks kind of like JonBenet Ramsey trapped in a 50 year-old body with a brow lift, no?

She's way older than that.

Well, still.

(to Joe Lieberman's speech) Like 6 people are clapping.

Their signs look like Hershey bars! Look! The 'Service' sign on the back of the 'Country First' sign! Mmmmmm, Hershey bars! (See above photo)

(at Joe Lieberman) Pimpin' ain't easy.

Una: Lieberman says Obama is a 'young man.'

Jeff: To Republicans, he is a young man.

Una: Joe Lieberman has to tell people that McCain is liked by leaders of other countries. He's all "trust me, I was there."

Jeff: They're blaming Bush! They can't blame Bush, it's their own party.

Una: I want to hurt him. Agggghhhhh! Cindy McCain! Her face is stretched like Play-Doh!

Jeff (Imitating a newscaster): And when he called his wife a cunt in public, he added 'America first, you last ... cunt.'

Are they saying 'Yes we can'?

They're saying 'Country First.'

STOP POACHING DEMOCRATS!!!! Lieberman sux 4evs.

Palin in Comparison

I happen to agree with Senator Obama and many others that Sarah Palin's daughter's teenage pregnancy should be off-limits in the political sphere. Luckily for us, there is plenty about Sarah Palin that can be judged in good conscience!

For instance, choosing not to abort a baby with Down Syndrome is fine; it's naming him Trig that's cruel. Also, if in fact it is true that Palin once supported a group that wanted Alaska to secede from the US, I would urge Senator McCain to consider changing his campaign slogan, unless of course Palin and McCain can team up to argue that Alaska doesn't really count, anyway. Next, the woman can skin, cure, and cube a moose. That is way scarier than her husband's drunk driving conviction. It is just so comically clear that McCain didn't know Sarah Palin from Shinola before he decided to hire her as (potentially) the second most powerful person in the country. That's not maverick, that's moron. And when US Weekly schools you on its cover only a week after anyone in the US knows your name, it is SO ON.
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