Rejection

I'm always in the market for new blogfriends.

Don't get me wrong, dearies - you are all tres entertaining. But there's always room for a new perspective, eh?

Everyone I currently interact with I've found through mooching off of James, Chelene, justacoolcat, etc.

Well, I'm interesting and extroverted, dammit! I can find my own blogfriends too.

So here's what I did. I clicked on "Next Blog". I kept clicking past all the Cialis spams, the morons, the sporadic posters, and one functional yet slightly frightening schizophrenic. I found someone intelligent with stimulating things to write about. I started commenting on his posts. I linked to his blog on mine.

While the guy was at least polite enough to respond to my comments, he never reciprocated by commenting on any of my posts. I bet he didn't even look at my blog.

Bastard.

He's off my links now.

But, if at first you don't succeed....

I'm giving it another shot. Wish me luck.

A tale of no baggies

The spousal unit and I are having doubts about taking our golf clubs to Aruba.

We went on our first trip to Europe in 1999. 5 days in Paris, 3 in Amsterdam, 5 in London, 3 in Glasgow, and 2 in Edinburgh (the father-in-law unit is Scottish).

We spent many hours deciding on just the right choices and amount of clothing to bring. We borrowed an extra suitcase from a girlfriend as we were still very young and underattache'd.

When we touched down in Paris, out of habit the spousal unit went to hunt down an appropriate place to smoke. This was before we realized that the French smoke everywhere. After this we faced a daunting Customs line. Finally, we arrived at the baggage carousel, but the spousal unit's borrowed suitcase was nowhere to be found.

You know what a pain in the tuckus it is to fill out a missing bag claim? Well, try doing it in French when you don't speak French. United Airlines gave us a weak excuse for an overnight kit and sent us on our way, telling us to call in periodically to check on the bag. Neither of us had a cell phone yet.

Exhausted from the long flight, we found our way to our Parisian hotel. Our bodies wanted to wilt into the small, bowed mattress in our room, but our minds told us that was a bad idea at 2 PM Paris time. So we went out and explored the area surrounding the hotel for a few hours. The spousal unit didn't have a single change of clothes, so we were hoping to encounter a boutique but were disappointed. After dining at one of the many Tex-Mex (that's right, Tex-Mex) restaurants in the area, we retired.

First thing the next morning I called the airline. After some lost-in-translation confusion, it was determined that the bag had not yet been found. So we decided to again make an effort to find some fresh garments for the spousal unit. This was Sunday.

I do not recommend trying to shop for anything in Europe on a Sunday. That famous Euro work-ethic (which in actuality I'm extremely envious of) extends to retail.

In a brief moment of ingenuity, we looked for a Gap in a local phone book. If there's any place that would cater to Americans needing to get their clotheshound fix while the French are cherishing their precious personal time, it's The Gap. We were not disappointed.

And so it went each day in Paris. Morning unfruitful conversations with United. But on the day we were scheduled to leave, we received a ray of hope: they had found our bag! It was being sent over to the hotel ASAP! After breakfast, we rushed back to the welcoming arms of our hotel desk clerk, who had a gift for us.

A bag. Not our bag. This was initially just a suspicion but was confirmed when we pulled out a rather large pair of underpants and a gossip rag printed in Russian.

Running dangerously late for catching our train to Amsterdam, we hurriedly called United back and left the bag with the bewildered clerk.

United never found our bag. We shopped again in Amsterdam (MUCH easier, I think the Dutch speak better English than most Americans) and did some laundry. Somehow we still managed to enjoy ourselves immensely.

OUr state of elation was quickly eliminated when we arrived home to a $250 phone bill for calls to United's American lost bags number, and the discovery that we were only eligible by law to $600 per lost bag (this law has since been amended. That paltry amount didn't even begin to cover 3 weeks worth of European Vacation clothes and shoes.

And now, we both have expensive new golf clubs. So you can understand our reluctance. Does anybody know if you can pay to up the liability for items lost internationally by an airline? If not, will my homeowner's insurance cover it?

Oscar musings

Hooray, Marty! It's about damn time.

Let's talk about Philip Seymour Hoffman. I can appreciate that he's not all Hollywood, that he's in it for the craft, and he does a damn fine job at that. But is it too much to ask for the man to BRUSH HIS DAMN HAIR when he is presenting an Oscar? He looks like he smells like urine.

Did anybody notice the ferocity of the Dreamgirls singoff? It really felt like both Jennifer and Beyonce were singing for their dear lives. And I hate to say it, because I hear B has been pretty petty and bitchy about all the recognition Jennifer is getting that she's not, but Beyonce ruled that number. I guess there's a reason she's the singer and Jennifer is now the actress. Don't get me wrong, J was wonderful too, but I didn't have any expectations of Beyonce and she totally blew me away. Too bad she didn't do the same with her dress.

And is Clint Eastwood going senile? He really bumbled through that honorary Oscar presentation. The spousal unit suggested he was drunk.

OK, now to my wardrobe assessments:

Best Dress - a two-way tie between Cate Blanchett and Kate Winslet. There were many lovely sherbet-colored dresses (Penelope (top half only), Naomi, Kirsten, Gwyneth, Celine's performance dress, and others), but Kate's mint was the loveliest by far. And Cate? Even though it was just a tad disco, she's a true fashion icon and that dress fit her like a glove.

Worst Dress - Anne Hathaway. That bow gave me terrible flashbacks of hideous prom dresses. Cameron Diaz came in a close second, but we were all expecting that, weren't we? Cam looks like she makes do from the nearest thrift store at nearly every red-carpet event she attends.

Biggest Disappointment - Jennifer Lopez. She was sporting the worst trend of the evening - giant fake jewels adorning the dress. And her hair? I could style it better than that.

Best recovery - Jennifer Hudson taking off that horrible gold lame cape she wore when she arrived. Again, bad prom flashbacks. I thought her brown dress was lovely once she removed that monstrosity, and her acceptance speech was too sweet. Was I the only one perturbed when they cranked the music on her? It's a huge moment for her - let her gush a bit, dammit!!!

Random 10: the willies

Thanks to seeing Harry Potter's uncut penis, this aberration, and finding a dead mouse in my closet this morning (thanks a bunch, kerpupples), this week's songs are not random. I chose 10 that pay tribute to the ball of skeeviness and disgust that is currently rotting in the pit of my stomach.

Disgustipated - Tool
Smells Like Funk - Black Eyed Peas
Rat In Mi' Kitchen - UB40
Baby Did A Bad Bad Thing - Chris Isaak
Grease - Franki Valli
When It Hurts So Bad - Lauryn Hill
My Sharona - The Knack
I Will Never Be the Same - Melissa Etheridge
Who's Gonna Ride Your Wild Horses - U2
I'm Lonely (But I Ain't That Lonely Yet) - White Stripes



I could have composed this list entirely of Michael Jackson songs, but that would have been a bit over the creepy edge, don't you think? Put yours here, if you are still alive after following my links above.

The yogiggles

Yesterday morning, before I realized I was too sick to function, I went to yoga.

Normally the class is taught by a competent if a bit chatty Puerto Rican gal named Federica. I did question some of her music choices (yoga to Gwen Stefani? really?), but her class was challenging and the style I like.

I hadn't been to this class in about 3 weeks. Apparently Federica has been replaced. I thought at first he was a sub, but the other class members seemed to know him.

This was my first experience with a flamboyantly gay yoga instructor.

Picture a fit, tan, younger Dave Foley (not the pasty, bloated Dave Foley that clearly spends too much time of late drowning his sorrows in dank Vegas lounges) in a sleeves-cut-off t-shirt and tight sweats. He sounded like Dave Foley. Hell, his name was Dave.

I had high hopes for Gay Dave. The gay aerobics instructors I've had in the past worked me like no other. But I soon realized the perils of attempting a serious yoga practice when the already suggestive terminology is enhanced by the effeminacy of the yogi.

It started with a pose where we were supposed to squeeze our knees together as if we were holding a ball between them. "Squeeze that ball between those legs!"

I smiled.

We went on to a leg stretching pose. "Let's get some gluteal action!"

Hee.

We were met with a giddy "Oh, yay!" whenever the entire class achieved perfect posture.

But the climax came when he led us into downward-facing-dog. What was his cry of encouragement, you ask? "Send your buns to the sun!"

Overall, his class was not really for me. Too much stretching; not enough strengthening and balancing. It's really too bad, because I don't think I've ever found physical activity so entertaining.

Heloise's helpful hints

• Put a capful of hydrogen peroxide in your mouthwash. My dental assistant friend claims it works just as well as Crest Whitestrips. Seems to be doing the trick for me.


• Don't feed your extremely furry dog things that gives him the runs. He'll make a mess of his tail feathers that you'll have to clean up. Unless, that is, you have a fetish for doggie dingleberries.


• Don't get really rich, bored, and strung out on meth. It makes you do things like flash your bare girlie parts and get the urge to make your head match the aforementioned girlie parts.

Gumby Roo

Roscoe lies this way frequently. It sure doesn't look comfortable. I suspect his skeleton may be made of Lycra. Or maybe he's not really a dog but some new species of furry snake.

Random 13 - Hatin' Cupid Mix

We're leaving tonight to visit family for a few days, so I may not see much of my blogging compadres. I thought I'd do a Random 10 today in honor of this the most reviled holiday. I'd like to thank iTunes for giving me the ability to create the playlist without a shred of thought, and HotPod for randomizing within the List of Love.

Why not 10, you ask? Because 13, like this day, is considered taboo by many. It's actually my lucky number.

Fell In Love With a Girl - The White Stripes
Because of Love - Janet Jackson
Is This Love? - Cake
Be My Lover - La Bouche
Love To Hate You - Erasure
Love Hater - Outkast
Your Love is King - Sade
I Want You, I Need You, I Love You - Elvis Presley
Generations of Love - Culture Club
Chains of Love - Erasure
Big Hunk O' Love - Elvis Presley
Pride (In the Name of Love) - U2
Goodnight My Love - Gloria Estefan

How fitting that last song is. Ciao for now.

Girls Rule

Didn't watch much of the Grammy awards. The spousal unit and I had bet on which song The Police would play. He won, dammit - my money was on Every Breath You Take. Never been too attracted to Sting, but damn - the guy's got some guns!

I did catch Shakira tearing it up with Hips Don't Lie. I can't help but wiggle and waggle when I hear that song, and she's always fun to watch dance. Another not-too-skinny celeb, can you dig it? I sure can.

The next day, I hit YouTube to check out the other performances. And my professional musical assessment is that.....by far, the ladies kicked ass.

Mary J. and Christina were by far the vocal highlights of the evening. Wow.

Even Miss Beyonce held her own, though I do wish she would stop letting her mother dress her.

I'm pretty neutral about the Dixie Chicks but I can admire them for standing behind their convictions with Not Ready to Make Nice. I think it was obnoxious of Natalie Maynes to air her beef with US politics overseas, but the woman certainly didn't deserve death threats. You can't help but feel the fear, trepidation, and raw emotion in the song.

And of course, we got to watch Shakira.

I was disappointed in what I saw of the gents. Didn't like Gnarls Barkleys' Crazy interp. Justin was decent, but What Goes Around just isn't my favorite - I cannot forgive him for writing the lyric "My heart bleeded". I do believe he really was playing the piano based on what I saw of the rehearsal.

Here's a wrap with my favorite performance of the night.

A sigh of relief, a chuckle, and a groan

My mom has just moved to a town 2 1/2 hours away. On Saturday I drove down to give her our old dining table and chairs. The trip was remarkably pleasant considering she is bipolar and has epilepsy and ADHD. It really wears me out sometimes to spend a lot of time with her, but I think since she's so excited about her new surroundings that the difficulties caused by these orders were somewhat dormant. Whew.

On the way home, 2 things of interest caught my eye while driving north on Colorado Highway 115.

The first was a sign which read "COME EXPLORE THE EXCITING WORLD OF GIANT TROPICAL INSECTS." If I had been a comic book character, a thought bubble full of question marks would have appeared above my head. Shortly after, I saw this similar sign and apparition:

Mind you, that giant beastie was the size of a car. When I got home my friend Google helped me piece together the puzzle. Apparently the May Museumcontains the private insect collection that some rich dude gathered in the 30s and 40s and opted to display on his Colorado ranch. He also seems to have purchased up a bunch of NASA photos to create a "Space Museum". Quirky, out-of-place, and a bit morbid - I love it! Will have to take the nephew there next time he's in town.

The second notable piece of scenery was a billboard which read "Abortion is always wrong. -God". This was my first cue that I had reached Colorado Springs, the birthplace of the deplorable anti-gay group Focus on the Family and the glaring neon scarlet dot on Colorado's political map. Please. If I wanted to be preached to, I'd go to church.

Random 10 - Triple Creme Brie meets Cheez Whiz

Here's the list:

Ain't My Bitch - Metallica
You Thought - The Go-Go's
Mama (Choir Acapella) - Garnett Silk
Minuet in D Minor - Bach
Freddy My Love - Cindy Bullens
Sparkling Diamonds - Nicole Kidman, etc. from Moulin Rouge
It's Too Late - Gloria Estefan
Vivere - Andrea Bocelli
Goodnight, Good Guy - Collective Soul
You Spin Me Right Round - Dead or Alive

Maybe you could have guessed it, but I like show tunes. The Chicago movie soundtrack is one of my all-time favorite CDs. And Gloria did some fabulous covers on Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me. Mix in some mellow classics and some of the not-so-great songs from some fun bands, and here's what we have - an hors d'oeuvres platter fit for just about anyone.

Post yours at American Idle with my pals - Paris, Lindsay, and Britney would do it too if they noo how to uze a kompooter.

Speechless

I'm not sure how I'm supposed to feel or what I'm supposed to say when someone I made fun of a mere few days ago on a comment in a friend's blog just keels over and dies. So...I'll just leave you with a link to one of her finest moments.

Can someone give me a clue as to how to embed video here? I'm the least techno-savvy programmer geek you'll meet for awhile.

UPDATE: Looks like my link was taken down. Guess Anna's drunken moments won't be showed in public for awhile.

Breathless Anticipation

Lost is back on tonight - I can't wait!!! Will Sawyer and Kate make it....somewhere? Will Jack let creepy Ben die? What in the heck is going on with Desmond?

I've heard lots of folks saying that this season isn't as good. I'm not so sure I agree. I think people have shorter attention spans than ever these days and they just get bored too easily. The spousal unit, on the other hand, seems to think that Lost has jumped the shark. Do you watch it - what do you think?

According to that website, WKRP in Cincinnati is one of the few shows that never jumped the shark. I always enjoyed it in reruns when I was a kid, but hey, I liked the Brady Bunch back then too, so I wasn't exactly the most discerning critic.

The intimidation factor

Yesterday I went to the fabric store, fully intent on stocking up for my first sewing project. I browsed home decor fabrics and flipped through pattern books, and settled on the green and orange curtains you see here:



Well, I nearly didn't decide to make them. I opened the pattern when I got home and nearly had a heart attack. What in the heck is selvage? Why would you ever baste anything that you're not cooking? On top of that, the pattern only accomodates 48" windows, and I have one that is 70" wide. I set the pattern next to my machine and sulked off morosely to bed.

This morning, armed with Merriam Webster, my strong will, and basic knowledge of geometry, I figured out that I can not only sew the freakin' curtains, but I can modify the pattern to accomodate my larger windows. So tonight I'm headed back to the store to actually purchase the supplies to craft these bad boys.

Oh yeah - I also picked up a smokin' hot ski helmet at 50% off. It's white with silver flames and pink straps and accomodates earpads with headphones. Because I just can't spend 100% of my time trying to impersonate Martha Stewart.

The snow queen

Wow...check out this awesome snowbank!




Is Roscoe around? He always makes fun of my obession with snow...




No sign of the punk - I'm goin' in!

Beauty in Death

Almost a month ago, at my request to bring home some flowers for a party we were having that evening, the spousal unit brought home some gorgeous red-and-yellow tulips. Tulips are one of my favorite flowers with the way they open and close daily, hungering for the sunlight. I placed them in a triangular blue vase I keep on a small shelf in our breakfast nook. They bloomed gloriously for about a week or so and then began to wilt, at which point I promptly neglected them. Last week I noticed they were still there, and took a closer look at the way they had wilted. It was picturesque enough for me to want to capture and share.

The weekend was mostly wonderful. Friday night was fun - I didn't stay long for poker but had a nice time with my colleague and her pinball-fiending family at a place that has some of the best margaritas (and worst food) in the city. Afterwards I picked up the spousal unit post-poker and we headed home.

Saturday we enjoyed the play, even though neither of us were entirely sure we completely comprehended the message. It was a modern take on Arabian Nights....sort of, sometimes. Afterwards we had a couple of hours to kill, so we grabbed a Starbucks and then window shopped for clothes and electronics. Before dinner we had time to take advantage of happy hour for some Chardonnay for me (it was freezing outside, don't ask me why I was craving chilled wine) and vodka tonics for the spousal unit. Lastly, we sat down to 4 cheese fondue, steak, chicken, lobster and shrimp which we cooked in a vegetable broth, and finally various sweets and fruits which we dipped in luscious melted dark chocolate.

Skiing had to be forgone yesterday as I woke up feeling sick. Instead I assembled the new sewing machine and tested it out using what meager supplies I had on hand. The result can be described as either a crooked sack or a doll's pillowcase. But hey, it's a start!

Sunday evening was capped off by some slippery footbal, some tasty Prince, and some Rome on HBO. All in all, a satisfying birthday weekend.

The pre-birthday random 10

Mere mortals know today as Groundhog's Day. But the real occasion is that it's The Day Before Slave to the Dogs' Birthday. Here's the music to set the mood:

Jesse's Girl - Rick Springfield
Piano Sonata Number ? - Beethoven
Give it Away - Red Hot Chili Peppers
Different Names for the Same Thing - Death Cab For Cutie
Son Of A Preacher Man - Dusty Springfield
Jingle Bells - Korn
Lack Of Water - The Why Store
Happy Nation - Ace Of Base
Pentagram - Cake
Something's Got To Give - The Beastie Boys

Got a good weekend lined up. Tonight, some poker and some killer margaritas with my lone coworker who lives in the same state. Tomorrow, the spousal unit and I are going to catch a matinee of 1001, followed by a scrumptious dinner at La Fondue. Then on Sunday, some skiing and some Superbowl. Quite nice, wouldn't you say?

I've asked for a sewing machine for my gift. I'm pretty sure I'm getting a sewing machine, as last night the spousal unit came in carrying a sewing machine and dumped it on the living room floor, commenting "You can't have it yet." I look forward to taking up a new hobby.

Oh yeah - post your own random 10 here, or you'll forever be dubbed a birthday hater.

Crankacrampacrunk, and Paris' cunny

Today is one of those days of the month when I am least grateful to be a female. I'm lucky I'm working from home now, or my coworkers would be wanting me to get the hell out of the office by the end of the day. So I apologize in advance if I am less than my sweet, cheerful self (bwaaa-ha-ha) when replying to any posts today and tomorrow.

So what about this ParisHiltonOverExposed.com business? I think Chelene hit it right on the dot - these folks aren't going to make any money on this venture. I managed to get a taste of it for free thanks to The Superficial. And let me tell ya, most of it was yawn, yawn, yawn. There was a bit of unexciting sex with some guy named Jason Shaw (she flashed her "Property of Jason Shaw" dogtag necklace to the camera while they were doin' it), and a fair amount of Paris breast to be seen. The twit is deaf as a doornail (every other word in one segment was, "Wha???") and LOOOOOOOVES the camera.

Ther was one part that really made me laugh out loud. A boyfriend was filming her (and trying unsuccessfully to direct her for another sex tape) getting out of the tub. She looked in the mirror and walked away. Filming Fool told her to look in the mirror again, and when she asked why, he replied "Because you only did it once, and that really scares me."

I did see a to-do list from the Paris Junk Trunk that was also amusing. It was handwritten, and included tasks such as "Call someone if I feel like I want to throw up", "Call someone if I feel like using", and "Go to AA twice a week" (yeah, right!).