How do you mend a broken heart?

RIP my friend :(

BILLY MAYS....NOT HERE :(

First Farrah,then Michael Jackson and now, now the biggest blow of all, Billy Mays has bit the dust! Out of this weeks deaths, this one shocks me the most. Farrah was ill for a long time, Michael Jackson had health issues and it really isn't totally crazy that he succumbed to them but Billy Mays seemed like he had another 30 or 40 years of screaming left in him! Actually, I feel like I should be typing this entire post in caps as a tribute to his perpetual screaming

If you don't know who I'm talking about, just turn on your TV and watch an oxyclean commercial. That is Billy Mays. He was always screaming. Always trying to sell you something and he basically made a career from nothing. Apparently he may have died from a Natasha Richardson type of injury after a rough plane landing yesterday where he was hit in the head with some luggage. This is speculation at this point though. His wife found him dead this morning in their bedroom. This news made me sad. I did not expect to be sad because Billy Mays is such a random person to be talking about, but he is young and he seemed like he had such energy and such a great attitude. Can't you just imagine him clearing away the dinner dishes and saying 'BUT WAIT! THERE'S MORE!" and then bringing out dessert? It turns out that he was set to be Taco Bell's new spokesman too. Those commercials would have been in the hall of fame I'm sure. Is it terrible that I am waiting and wondering for Vince the Shamwow guy to make a statement? Watch out baby, It's Vince's time to shine now.

He was an infomercial king. I love infomercials. I hate to admit it, but I do. There is something so mesmerizing about them to me. What I really love is how they show ordinary people, ALWAYS in black and white, struggling with doing something very basic like putting on a necklace or cutting a tomato. They flail about in an overly dramatic fashion that makes me laugh till my stomach hurts. I love the one where the person is struggling to peel an egg and there is another where some poor devil is having issues putting toothpaste on his toothbrush. These people seriously need to be colonized and shot for they are simply too stupid to live.

There is a great one for the Epilator with a woman shaving her legs in the strangest way I have ever seen. In this, the woman doesn't just run the razor across her legs like a normal person would, she actually manages to stab herself with the razor in an awkward fashion and screams in hysterics while we watch. Of course, you don't hear her screaming and she is shown in black and white while an announcer tells you about how much better the product they are trying to sell you is.

Ron Popeil is the Grandaddy of the infomercial. He founded a company called Ronco years ago that has produced tons of gadgets that have been the staple of late night television programming for as long as I can remember. I particularly loved his product GLH-9 Hair in a Can Spray, (Great Looking Hair Formula #9 in case you were wondering). There has been nothing this good before or since. I challenge you to tell me what has been better than hair in a can, you can't can you? You know, it actually did kinda look like hair to me. He also has been responsible for such stellar offerings as the Chop-o-matic ("It slices, it dices, it makes julienne fries!"), the Dial--o-matic ("slice a tomato so thin it has only one side!"), the Popeil pocket fisherman, The Showtime Rotisserie ("Set it and forget it!"), and my personal favorite, Mr Microphone. Mr Microphone featured a creepy guy driving around while harassing women by yelling things at them via his megaphone like device ("Hey good looking! I'll be back to pick you up later!).

What really makes me roll my eyes is how they now feature pitchmen with foreign accents, as if this gives the product more credibility. If a guy with a British accent says this blender will do the job, then I'm buying it! I just want to be in an "audience" for one of these things before I die. I want to ohh and ahhh and feign shock and get to taste the finished product on camera.

It is sad when any young person dies and I am very sorry for the family that Billy Mays has left behind. Having died so young and in his prime I think it would be completely appropriate were his epithet to read "BUT WAIT, THERE'S MORE! Wouldn't it be great if his eulogy was done as an infomercial? I think he would have really appreciated that. I have nothing deeper to say about Billy. I am however composing a musical tribute to him and Michael Jackson that goes a little something like this...."Billy Mays is not my lovah"....that's all I've got so far.

.

I'm just not that into him :(

Look at this picture. Aren't they the portrait of a deep connection and a percolating lust? If I didn't already know it , I would have assumed that they were involved off screen as well as on. They have that "look".

Fairly recently I had one of the strangest romantic experiences of my life. Even though I swore to never post details of my personal life here I have decided to tell you about this as a service to women (and the odd man who stumbles here) everywhere. Maybe I should have titled this one "anatomy of a jerk". We'll see how you feel after reading this.

I was cast out into the dating world this past year after the breakup of a very long term relationship. This year, my life has been akin to a real life version of that horrible show "Sex And The City". Understand, I LOATHE that show. I really hate it. I hate the characters, the stories, everything about it. Those women annoy me to no end. Admitting that my life has played out some scenes that could have come straight out of that trash heap of a show is not something I'm proud of but I'm going to come clean here for the purpose of this purge. Two good friends of mine have actually referred to that show after our discussions of whatever romantic escapade of mine we happened to be analyzing. "Wow! That sounds like something right out of Sex And The City!" I'd grimace, I'd groan but in the end, I'd have to admit that yes, I am living a real life version of that debacle and I am totally disgusted at this turn of events.

So to give you a wee background, I've dated over the last year. Oh I've tried. And I've met some genuinely nice guys, some freaks and some flat out jerks. I won't go on into details about every single one but I'm going to choose two in particular just to give you the flavor of my experiences.

There was one who I was completely smitten with. We clicked completely and spent quite a bit of time together. Everything SEEMED to be going well until one day, I never heard from this person again. It hurt. It made me wonder what was wrong with me. Was I not pretty enough? Did I suck in bed? Was I boring? What was it? Now deep down, I am a fairly confident person and an excellent read of people so I knew that none of these speculations were true. And my good girlfriends and even a few guy friends all said the same thing. "It's not you, it's....HIM". This annoyed me. It was me. It had to be me. Why wasn't he still around if I was so great?

The other notable strange experience was with a man who I also "seemed" to really click with. We talked for hours on end. We were extremely attracted to each other. I'm not that dumb that I can't pick up on that at this point in my life. I'm a very humble person and I never think I'm hot stuff but if someone is constantly touching me and staring at me and kissing me well, I think that is a strong indicator that said person likes what they see. So, this guy...OK, lets see. Well, he was intensely neurotic. He was so determined NOT to have a relationship based on sex that he attempted to completely eliminate it and became conflicted at his strong attraction for me. He seemed to ignore that sex is an essential building block of a good relationship out of his fear of focusing only on sex and sex alone. He broke things off by telling me that he just couldn't do "this" and I proceeded to talk to him for about 45 minutes as he dumped me and assure him that what he was doing was fine and that he was going to be OK. That was really fun. There is nothing quite like comforting a person who is dumping you. It's quite surreal.

So these experiences have a place in my dating hall of fame. I told them to you to make a point. That point is, shit happens. People do and say crazy things. Sometimes you can analyze a situation to death and never really know what a person's motives were or are and it can leave you feeling knocked off your feet and bewildered and damage that fragile ego of yours. My confession is this....I am now a real life jerk. Yes, I became one, I've been inducted to the hall of fame of dating jerks and I now have an understanding of all the men who have made me feel like crap about myself and question my worth. What follows is the anatomy of my jerkdom.

It happened one steamy hot afternoon. There I was, walking through times square, the crossroads of the world when all of a sudden, this perfectly wonderful man nearly dropped into my lap. It was like something out of a B movie only it was all too real. I'm going to cast Debra Messing as me and Sascha Baron Cohen as the man I had this experience with. Sascha can be pretty attractive when he is not in his Bruno state. Just sayin'. So anyway, there I was, walking through the Square on a very disgustingly hot day and this person in front of me turned around briefly and then did a double take of me. He then stopped and turned around and asked me to take his picture. I thought nothing of this because we were in times square and people do this all the time here. I took his picture and it didn't come out well. I took it again. He was pretty hot looking. He thanked me and then it happened. He asked me to go for coffee with him. Just like that. It was a Friday afternoon and I was on my way home. I thought for a minute and I heard myself say yes and off we went.

From the minute I met this person, we seemed to already know each other. It was the strangest thing I've ever experienced. He even knew what I wanted to order at the coffee place. We sat for about 45 minutes and almost seemed to "catch up". The conversation flowed so smoothly, there was never an uncomfortable moment. He was visiting family here and was from London. He was a very intelligent person with his own business. He was handsome, he was fun. It was as if he came from the perfect man factory and was delivered to me personally. The conversation went on but it was time to leave the coffee place. He asked me where central park was. I offered to take him since it was on my way. We walked and we even stopped into a Dept store on the way and did a little shopping. The salespeople thought we were a married couple. Two people referred to him as my husband. When we revealed we just met they were all in shock. Everyone said we looked like we were made for each other.

We walked arm in arm to the park. He looked at me and said, "please don't go, I want to spend more time with you". So I decided to go with the moment and stay with him. We walked through the park together, we sat and talked. For 3 1/2 hours. And it seemed like 15 minutes. He decided that he needed to extend his trip and stay over the weekend to spend more time with me. It was insane. We kissed, we held hands, we even walked in silence, content in just being together. Then, all of a sudden I snapped out of whatever trance I was in. I became....A JERK. I just couldn't do it. For the first time in my life I fully understood the "it's not you it's me" rationale. I cannot put my finger on why my feelings shifted, I'm sure it was a lot of things that I won't even go into here. We parted with plans to speak. I left him standing on the corner in front of the Plaza. I will never forget the look on his face. It was the look of someone who is completely smitten and knocked off his feet. And then I did it. I cut him off. Just like that. Leaving the poor guy to wonder....."what about me made her do this?" And my answer is.....absolutely nothing. He was darned near perfect. He adored me, he was hot, I was attracted to him, we connected in such an intense way almost immediately. But I just could not follow through with it. I couldn't even be a nice person about it and tell him this. My response to him was silence. He called me, he emailed me and from me? NOTHING. Every time I thought about speaking with him and explaining, I froze and couldn't do it. He still calls me. He still emails me. And the worst part is, he is perfectly nice about it. He genuinely wants to know how I am and he wants to hear my voice. After writing this I may contact him and put him out of his state of wonder and confusion.

I've thought about this a lot. Someone said to me "maybe you're just not that into him", you know, like that stupid book/movie "he's just not that into you"? I don't know if that's really it, maybe it is, I honestly don't know. What I do know is that I kind of get the men who have done this to me now. And I almost believe that it really wasn't me, that it was indeed them. I once heard someone say that when a man is ready to settle down or commit he does it with whoever he is with at the time because he is just "ready". A woman does it when she finds the person who makes her want to commit and settle.I found that interesting and while not necessarily true in every instance, I think it does bear some merit. Rejection is a bit easier to deal with now after this experience. It will always hurt, but I somehow understand that people can just simply be cowards and that confusion sometimes leads to some not so nice and inconsiderate behavior. It doesn't excuse it, but it sorts it out a bit for me.

I'm not going to say what my current state is but I am happy and content and enjoying my life and grateful for the experiences I've had. They've been annoying, heartwarming, challenging and head scratching and I wouldn't trade them for anything. I really enjoy men, I sometimes wish I didn't with all the trouble relationships cause at times, but there is something wonderful about looking into someones eyes and knowing that you are on the same page.

Yet another blow to my long lost youth :(

OMFGWTFBBQ! THIS IS UNREAL! CAN YOU BELIEEEEEVE THIS? NOOOOOO!

OK, got that out of my system. Just as I clicked to post my Farrah reminiscences, it was announced at that very minute that Michael Jackson had passed away. I was stunned. I must say that I once had a discussion with a very good friend about MJ and his bizarre lifestyle and he commented exactly this: "that man is going to die young and under strange circumstances". Prophecy fulfilled. The picture I've chosen to post here is one of the Michael Jackson I remember from the tender years of my youth, when he was still "himself".

When I was a kid, my Mother bought me a record player. Yes, RECORD. As in vinyl. Remember those? I had the Jackson's album "Triumph" and Michael Jackson's solo album "Off The Wall". I listened to them over and over and over. I did that thing that most kids do when they really love a song. I sang into the mirror using my hairbrush as a microphone. Of course, long before this I was obsessed with "Dancing Machine", "I'll Be There" and "Ben". There was just something infectious about this music and to this day when I hear those songs I feel the urge to get up and dance. I challenge anyone to listen to "Dancing Machine" and NOT get your ass out of your chair and dance. *Sings* ..."Automatic, Systematic.... full of color and self contained...tuned and gentle to your vibes."... If you're not dancing you are tapping your toes or wanting to dance but too embarrassed to try because people are around, right?.

I remember going away to college for the first time and blasting my Michael Jackson albums. He made the moonwalk huge even though it had already been done by Fred Astaire and others decades before. He modernized it. People tried to do this on every dance floor. He found a visual hook and ran with it. It became his signature and it really sucked in people in a hypnotizing way. And the red leather jacket from the Thriller video, that was everywhere too. Music, dance, fashion...Michael Jackson's influence was everywhere. He pioneered the industry for entertainers like Prince, Ne-Yo, Chris Brown, Usher and the like. I don't think Madonna and Britney would have made it like they did if he hadn't precluded them. He set a standard that wasn't there before as a real pop entertainer musically and visually. I really can't think of anyone who does what he did as far as writing music, performing it and producing it. He was a one man show really. The thing that really amazes me was that he became so huge before the existence of the Internet and ipods. Elvis and the Beatles managed this one too but Michael Jackson was something else entirely.

He was big even before MTV although MTV surely made him even bigger. Actually, thinking back now, he helped MTV more than it helped him. He once said that MTV actually refused to play "Billie Jean" initially. After they finally did, it broke an all time record and MTV was begging for more. Michael Jackson actually opened the door racially for Prince at MTV and in other arena's as well.

Michael Jackson represented my youth. What he became pretty much overshadowed his enormous talent in the end. I have no idea what was true or not or what really happened, but all the scandal does not erase his enormous talent. I don't think there was ever anyone else like him before or since or ever will be again. I certainly hope there will be. I read that he had a very large collection of recorded unreleased music and this may prove to be an interesting addition to his legacy. Time will tell on this one.

I'm not going to canonize him, I think he was an intensely unhappy, disturbed person. Perhaps this was the price to pay for his enormous talent and fame. I'm just thinking back on his influence and his positive contributions right now.

The deaths of two icons from my youth in one week is quite the jolt. I am not the type of person to worship celebrities but Farrah and Michael were popular when I was an innocent, unjaded person. They both entertained me and are part of my memory bank and for that, I would like to thank them both.

That's all for now :)

R.I.P Angel

I know, it's kind of shocking to hear me talking about Farrah. I'm pretty jaded and unimpressed with celebs but Farrah, well, she totally represented a big part of my youth. She passed away today after a long battle with cancer.

When I was a really blobby awkward kid, "Charlies Angels" was the hottest thing on TV. To be honest, I was totally in love with Jacklyn Smith. She was my favorite out of the three actresses in that show. I wanted to BE her. Her hair, body, face, she was just the perfect woman to my adolescent eyes. She still is. Kate Jackson was a man and Farrah was beautiful but I never liked that California all American look even though I liked Farrah herself. I remember when she was married to the "Bionic Man" Lee Majors. I never liked that guy. He was not even the slightest bit good looking. I can't imagine why he was a "sex" symbol back then. The "Angels" were all sex objects before breast implants and botox. I am thankful that I grew up during a time when women in hollywood may have been really gorgeous but I never had to compare myself to fake breasts and body parts that were humanly impossible for me ever grow or find in nature as it was intended.

At some point Farrah broke out of that sexy airhead stereotype and started playing serious roles like the battered woman vehicle "The Burning Bed" and on Broadway in "Extremities" in which she played a woman who turned the tables on her rapist. She even played a Nazi Hunter in "Nazi Hunter: The Beate Klarsfeld Story". It was pretty shocking to see her do these projects but even Cher busted a move in Silkwood and Mask that changed the way people thought of her too so those events sort of taught people not to make assumptions about female entertainers and that was pretty refreshing.

Farrah was also responsible for the extensive torture of my hair. I have very curly, difficult to manage hair. Imagine if you will, me forcing it into a Farrah "do". My head looked like I had glued two breakfast sausage links over my ears when I tried to do those "wings" that she sported. Actually, come to think of it I probably could have been mistaken for a Hasidic Jewish man. My Farrah "hair wings" looked more like peyot (those sideburn ringlets that are the mark of an orthodox Jewish man) than sexy wings. That should have been a "don't" for me but oh the pressure to look like all the other girls. Being fat and having bad hair really was quite the daily double for a pre-teen. I also lived through the "Princess D" and "Dorothy Hamill" hairdo's as well. I really wonder why on earth there were no mainstream curly hair role models for the unfortunate ones like me, but that is for another discussion and as usual I am being my tangential self again.

Anyway, the death of someone as iconic as Farrah brings back a lot of memories for this awkward kid who watched her and bikini clad her co-stars solve crimes while looking like hot shit. I will never forget that famous poster of her in the red bathing suit with that huge blindingly white smile on her face. Celebrities don't smile like that anymore. They are all too busy trying very hard to be sexy. Farrah just was.

That's all for now :)

America's Got...a lot of nerve

Have you seen this show "America's Got Talent"? It's the Velveeta of TV shows. The judges alone are enough to make me want to smash my precious, hard earned flat screen TV to smithereens. The panel consists of bloated, has-been alcoholic David Hasselhoff, opinionated, irritating shrew Sharon Osbourne, and talentless, pompous ass Piers Morgan (what has this guy done to qualify him as a judge of talent?). Now, Mariah Carey's young husband Nick Cannon is hosting this embarrassment. After acts perfom, they pan over to him in the wings making really idiotic comments, I.E. "Wow, loved that hoop they used, gotta get one for me and my wife in our bedroom *WINK*." She must be simultaneously proud and shamed that he finally landed a job. (Former host Jerry Springer in in the pic I've posted because I love him and he actually made this show mildly bearable for me).

Anyway, the show primarily consists of people making asses out of themselves. Occasionally there is some actual talent but for the most part there are people like a guy who shoves a drill up his nose, another guy who wears a dress and plays the accordion while yodeling, a James Brown/Obama impersonator,a guy who hangs concrete slabs from his eyeballs and smashes them, a super creepy middle aged couple who wears skintight metallic spandex, glittery make up and swings around on a hoop together to the song stylings of Barry White, throw in a bunch of people doing bad impressions and pet gimmicks and there you have it....you get the pic. The normal, talented ones are usually kids who sing or adults who have had rough lives and sing well too. Oh, there is always a person or a group of people who have a tragic story, like a parent dying and leaving them orphaned or a terrible illness or accident nearly killing them and we hear the story of their survival. I guess I'm a really hard bitch these days because while I feel bad for you that your wife died on the operating table, you still can't sing/juggle/impersonate/ so best of luck to you but please get off my TV. These types of shows really make me feel like I am in a real life version of a Simpsons spoof of a bad TV show.

A few years back, a ventriloquist won the grand prize. That my friends, says it all. I have never understood that "talent" at all. Maybe back in the 50's with Charlie McCarthy or whatever his name was, it was innocent and good fun but everything was innocent back then. Now it is creepy and stupid. Aren't we more advanced at this point than to be viewing a guy pretending to make a dummy talk as entertainment? Oh and shhhhh, I don't want to be captain obvious here but....his. mouth. is. moving. I .saw. it.

I guess this show makes me wonder how soul killing a person's life must be to think of shoving a drill up your nose as a means to an end, you know? Maybe I'll give up on this work thing I've been doing and cultivate a crazy talent that will get me off this perpetual grind. Hmmmmm, what could I do? I do have the uncanny ability to sound like that voice you get when you dial a disconnected number and get the recording telling you so. Is there a market for this? I could be the Susan Boyle of something, I'm middle aged and never married, isn't that tragic in itself by most of America's standards? I may be too hot to be a tragic figure though, I don't have a frump factor going on.

Does anyone have David Hasselhoffs number?

Baby Mama Drama

Meet Midge Hadley, she is Barbies less sexually threatening best friend. She's pregnant, did you know? She's married to Allan Sherwood. They already have two children, Ryan and Nikki. She's about to give birth to their third. FYI, her stomach is removable and inside there is a tiny alien-like plastic baby. She caused quite the controversy when she came out as part of the "Happy Family" series. Some totally idiotic parents thought that Midge was too young to be having babies and that this was going to cause their daughters to run out and get pregnant just like Midge. Walmart pulled the dolls due to pressure. ... DEAD SILENCE...

Are these people SERIOUS? First of all how old are girls that play with these dolls? If they are super young they are not going to even know how babies are made. That is where these stupid parents come into the picture to discuss this in detail. Even if they do know where babies come from I cannot imagine that they are going to compare themselves to a doll. If they do, you've got bigger problems with that kid than possible pregnancy.

I propose that Mattel release Prostitute Barbie (opportunity for a tie in line of Johns), Crackhead Barbie, Spinster Cat Lady Barbie, Gay Barbie and maybe even Transgender Barbie (anatomically correct, mind you). The possibilities are endless. This should give parents many ripe opportunities to discuss real life issues with their children and keep them out of Walmarts hair. It might also make these fools realize how tame a pregnant doll is in comparison to other possibilities.

Middle of the night stream of consciousness

It's the middle of the night here and I am totally exhausted but I can't sleep. Has this ever happened to you? When it happens I wonder how I ever manage to let go of my thoughts on a daily basis long enough to plunge into sleep.

This week was just the shit. Awful. I think I am just still wound up from the week. So, I am just randomly spouting off here till I make myself tired enough to take the trip to dreamland.

These are the things I am thinking of as I am unable to sleep. My head is a horrifying place as you'll see. You're probably thinking about your 401k or your career plans. I am a frightening mishmash of meaningless Homer Simpson-esque ponderings. The only thing missing is the thought bubble with a donut in it over my head. Here goes...


1.)How am I going to die? When is it going to happen? Will people laugh at it? I kind of want them to.

2.)Will anyone ever love me again as completely and unconditionally as my ex did? If they did or do, would I even be able to believe it or am I too jaded and scarred at this point?

3.)If I had unlimited funds, would I really have the guts to get a tummy tuck or would my fear of being butchered or dying unnecessarily relegate me to a lifetime of this unsightly gut?

4.)What does my ass really look like? Is it true that if you are decapitated you live for 7 seconds afterward and is there anyway that someone could time my actual death with decapitating me and kindly hold my head up behind me so I could really truly see the horror that I have always imagined my ass to be?

5.)Should I have some bacon when I wake up?

6.)Are my parents really still with me, watching out for me, guiding me in the right direction, and am I really going to get to see them again?

7.)Is George Clooney really the jerk I suspect him to be? If I was a waitress in an upscale resort or cocktail lounge, would he fall for me too as he seemed to with his last two lady friends?

8.) If I really stick to weight watchers strictly, how long will it take me to lose this last 10 lbs?

9.)Do people just tolerate me because they feel sorry for me, or do they really love me as they say they do? Am I as annoying as I suspect I may be?

10.)I wish I could get a shitload of cosmetic dentistry so I could feel more confident. My teeth are not bad by any means but I would love to have a brighter more even smile.

11.)Does the manager at the grocery store have a crush on me? I think he has for like 10 years now. I feel it. It's not mutual but he hovers around me and talks to me a lot when I'm shopping. He doesn't do this to anyone else. Welp, there is my answer. Der.

12.)Will I ever muster up the courage to tell the hot guy at the Italian deli that I have been in love with him for the past decade and that I buy cheese a lot of the time just to interact with him? "Deli guy, it's not about the Piave or the Parm Reggiano, it's about YOU and your hotness"...

THATS ENOUGH. I'm off to bed.

:)

Five Alarm Fantasy

To balance out my extremely depressing rain post below, I just wanted to post something beautiful to look at. Here is my ray of sunshine courtesy of the FDNY. The beefcake was spotted at Fairway at approximately 1:30 pm EST, a fabulous grocery store here in NYC. I was ironically in the meat section and there it was. Did I tell you that I try to plan my food shopping to coincide with the FDNY's? I'm the total dirty old lady, sneaking around and watching them touch the veggies for ripeness and listening to them discuss their plans for dinner and new recipes. There is nothing sexier than watching a musclebound man who saves people for a living doing some food shopping. And they do it in a big group. There's a guy for every girls taste in there. It's like the thinking woman's Chippendale's review. (I find Chippendale's really cheesy and embarassing and every single one of those guys looks like he's doing each other, there is nothing unsexier than those idiotic all male reviews, UGH).

Anyway, I just can't explain it. Some people have foot fetishes, I have an FDNY grocery shopping fetish, what can I say? Who am I hurting with this? Stop judging me already or this is the last time I'll share my deeper secrets with the likes of you. I'll bet there are a lot stranger things floating around in your filthy minds aren't there? Yeah, I though so... so, um, getting back to my pic of the day. Enjoy ladies, and to the men out there looking at this, THIS is how to snag chicks.

And I wonder, still I wonder...who'll stop the rain?

Behold, the Morton salt girl. Doesn't she look kicky with her umbrella and her salt? She's had several incarnations over the years, 6 to be exact. Morton salt has been around since the 1800's but the Umbrella Girl has been around since 1914. The Umbrella Girl remains ageless, but she has continued to change with the times. Makeovers to modernize her looks began in 1921 and continued in 1933, 1941, 1956 and 1968. Think of her as the original "Rhianna". Morton really needs to start a campaign with that stupid "Umbrella" song backing people using their salt, right? I'm onto something aren't I? It's nice to know that my marketing degree hasn't totally gone to waste. What a tie in THAT would be! Get a free CD with each salt purchase. Hmmmm. I think this umbrella girl may be the only person to have endured 95 years of solid rain with a smile. I am on about two weeks of it and I am the antithesis of the Umbrella Girl.

It has been raining for what seems like an eternity here. I cannot remember when it has not been gray and wet outside and quite frankly, it is taking it's toll on me mentally. It's making me suicidal. If it does not stop soon I am going to be in jail for killing someone or in a psychiatric institution for trying to kill myself. If one more person tells me "WE NEED IT" I am going to kill said person. With my bare hands. And a crazy grin. And then wait peacefully till the police come and get me.

There is something about rain that depresses the hell out of me. Oddly, I do not feel the same loathing for snow. I love snow. Snow actually makes me happy. Just hearing that snow is coming fills me with excitement. The only times in my life that I have actually enjoyed rain were as a child when I was at my Aunts summer camp and we would sit on the huge porch and watch it move in sheets across the lake until it reached us. It was so dramatic, like watching an approaching tornado. We could literally see the rain on the other side of the lake slowly moving toward us. I also used to love sitting outside on the porch on hot summer evenings and watching the heat lightening off in the distance and hearing the rumbles of an oncoming storm. The only other fond memory of rain that I have is that of all the times spent on rainy days in bed with my then boyfriend. We would just lay together and read and talk and watch movies and feel cozy together. Notice that all these memories involve me being in a dry place during the rain.

At this point in my life, my job requires me to travel all day from one client to the next. I'm sort of like a postal employee in respect to having to be outdoors on and off all day. Today was the worst day I have had in years. Even with the proper gear I was soaking wet all day. I called my office and told them that enough was enough, I was finishing early and I came home to a hot shower and my jammies and a long nap. Even after this. I'm still feeling surly and dreading MORE RAIN. so here is my list of the pros and cons of rain vs snow.

RAIN PROS:

1.)Obvious environmental benefits.

THAT'S IT.

RAIN CONS:

1.) Bad hair weather.
2.)Bad shoe weather.
3.)Mentally draining and depressing.
4.)Everything smells like mildew.
5.)Public transportation is a completely chaotic mess.
6.)Feels like the universe is spitting on me all day.
7.)Getting hit in the face every 4.5 minutes with someone else's giant umbrella.
8.)People are less tolerant of each other in severely rainy weather. Subway seats get wet, people drip all over each other when standing in close proximity.
9.)EVERYTHING IS WET.


SNOW PROS:

1.)It's gentle, it's fluffy (generally speaking), it's like ethereal love taps from the universe. I can brush it off and there is no evidence that it was even there.
2.)If you're a kid, you may get out of school. If you're an adult you may get out of work. Even if you don't completely get out of either, you will probably be able to come in late or leave early. It's win win.
3.)It makes everything look magically clean and pure for the time that it is there.
4.)Cocoa and cookies are a requisite treat when it is snowing.
5.) Santa is making your presents.
6.)I look adorably cute bundled up.
7.)My hair always looks fabulous.
8.)My snow boots mean serious business.
9.)People are nicer to each other when it's snowing. They really are.

SNOW CONS:

1.)Severe snow can kill you (think avalanches, bad driving if you don't know how to drive in snow)...that's really all I can think of.


The above is my warped perspective, I don't want to hear reasons to love rain, I just don't. That little Morton salt 'ho loves it enough for all of us.

That's all for now :)

Holy Smokes!

I have a confession to make. I think smoking is a nasty, filthy habit. It makes my eyes water, my throat itch and the smell is just atrocious. And this is second hand smoke. I cannot stand the stale veil that descends all over my hair and clothes when I am near someone who is feverishly smoking.

My confession is......I am completely enamoured with the almighty Hookah. Do I not look happily entranced in the accompanying picture? This was last night. My companion took it, I was exhaling and talking, hence the weird slack-jawed gaze. I live in a very diverse neighborhood and there is an area about a 5 minute walk from me called "little Egypt". A while back, I went there with a friend and we ate some wonderful food and I was curious about the pipes everyone was smoking. The smell was intoxicating. It was nothing like regular cigarette smoke. Different parts of the room smelled differently. I asked our waitress about these pipes and if she recommended us trying it. She was pretty enthusiastic about it. She helped us figure out what to order and she assured us that even as non-smokers we would love it.

She was indeed correct! We ordered the fancy fruit shisha. Shisha is a specially treated tobacco (they use honey, fruit, spices and different flavors). The tobacco is packed into a hollowed out grapefruit shell. This is placed over a water chamber (think fancy bong-ish sort of contraption). There are hot coals placed over the top of the grapefruit. You take a puff from a long elaborate embroidered hose and the tobacco smoke is pulled through the water chamber and then filters out to you through the hose. The smoke is a huge dramatic cloud but it is shockingly inoffensive and gentle. The result is a smooooooooth deliciously sweet and spicy smoke. It's like a calorie free dessert. My current favorite is called blue mist. It's blueberry flavoured. The grapefruit gives it a little kick but it is perfectly rounded and well balanced. I wish I could take everyone of you and sit you down to try this. It is truly special. This is the only smoke that I actually love being blown in my face. It smells that good. I must reiterate that it is nothing like cigarette smoke at all. My second favorite combo is guava and lime in the grapefruit shell. Smoked alongside a fruit smoothy or a cold refreshing drink it is a true treat on a warm evening.

The thing that makes this even more of an experience is sitting outdoors in the quiet of the evening with others who are doing the same thing. New friends are made, the stress of the day is forgotton and at some point very late in the evening, belly dancers arrive and then the fun starts. Loud, energizing music, people getting up and randomly dancing with the girls, laughter and chatter. It's like coming home and I love it. Even in cooler weather and on a weeknight when it is tamer there are people gathered watching whatever happens to be on TV or Arabic television or Arabic music videos which are elaborate and hard to take your eyes off of. The experience is truly a treat for the senses and I am in a habit now of dropping in whenever I can.

Oh and just a little rave for the movie we saw last night, "The Hangover". Excellent potty humored comedy, highly recommended. I was pleasantly surprised to see Bradley Cooper looking sizzlingly hot in this. I never liked him till this movie but he was undeniably sexy and has really come into his own. Two thumbs up for this summer release.

That's all for now :)

I hop for IHOP

I do not eat in chain restaurants. I just do not. Even when I lived in a really rural area (aka: "the boonies") I was not a fast food/chain place eater. I would rather go to a hole in the wall diner with a guy who looks like he just got out on parole cooking my eggs behind the counter than McDonald's. Considering this, imagine my surprise when I went to IHOP for the very first time this year and fell in love.

I love pancakes. I do. I love everything about them. They are syrup loving food pillows for the likes of mounds of butter and my beloved maple syrup. I love maple syrup so much that I used to drink it as a kid. Poured over some crushed ice, there is nothing better. It's a mountain girl slurpee/snowcone. I know, you're thinking it sounds gross but you are wrong about this. It is mmm, mmm good. My mom used to boil it in the wintertime and drizzle it over fresh snow for a treat for me and my friends. This is a pretty common treat in "the boonies." It taste like a creamy taffy. As it hits the snow it solidifies and gets chewy and almost creamy. It is delicious. Eating this makes me feel like Half Pint from Little House on the Prairie. It's a primitive "we live in the middle of nowhere and these damn kids are making me nuts asking me for candy that I don't have so I'm just gonna feed then some sugar to shut them up" type of treat. The maple syrup that I grew up on was actually made by none other than my high school chemistry teacher, Mr Pop. Bless his tree tapping heart. ...WHOA am I on a tangent today or what? Back to IHOP...

So pancakes, syrup, they are things that are close to my heart. Established. A few months back, my co-worker Miguel said to me one day, "hey, lets go to IHOP". "What's that" said I? "You're kidding, right?"said Miguel. And off we went. We are in NYC, Harlem to be specific, so there are really no national chain type of restaurants present where we are, except IHOP. I entered suspiciously, ready for a sub par feeding. Being in a chain restaurant always makes me feel like a pig sidling up to a trough. I was pleasantly surprised to dig into some wonderful, fluffy delicious pancakes. This piglet was pretty happy. They were very close to what I would make for myself. The syrup wasn't real deal but it was fine in context.

On a return trip I had the seasonal pumpkin pancakes and they were fantastic. If you ever go to an IHOP in the fall, check these babies out, they are like gingerbread cakes on your plate, so good. This past week I had a "healthy" selection, the Harvest Grain N Nut Healthy Combo. It was 2 grain and nut pancakes, egg substitute and fresh fruit. I know, egg sub sounds gross but it wasn't rubbery or strange at all. It was soft and creamy scrambly and I didn't feel like I was short changing myself or missing out on anything. The pancakes were not as good as the regular ones but they were a more filling choice and stayed with me the entire day. I could not finish this plate, I was so full that I even skipped dinner that night.

The only other place I have been that is a chain that I am OK with going to is Cracker Barrel. That place is like jumping into a seductively hypnotizing lake of butter, gravy and cheese while gently floating on a giant flaky biscuit life raft to a bacon and home fry lined shore. You just have to make peace with the fact that when you walk into a Cracker Barrel, you are essentially getting into bed with public enemy #1 of the American Heart Association. It's not an everyday thing but once in a while it is much appreciated. I really wish we had a Cracker Barrel here. I would kill for one. Maybe it's best for me not to have access to a place where the chicken fried steak in massive amounts of gravy seems like a healthy option in comparison to the rest of the menu.

So speaking of mouthwatering goodies, I usually have a tasty treat over the weekend. My week is full of salad, fish, chicken, tons of veggies and fruits. My weekend treat today will be a Juniors Lil' Fella. Do you know Juniors? It's place here in NY (originally Brooklyn to be precise) known for it's cheesecakes. As a former pastry chef I will give Juniors it's due. They do make an excellent product. I first had Juniors cheesecake about 8 years ago when my ex and I got a ticket for subway fare evasion (don't ask, whole other story) and we had to appear in court right down the block from Juniors in Brooklyn. The ex tried to make the court thing up to me ( it was all his stupid fault and he knew it) by promising to take me to Juniors after our appearance. We went and had Rubens (very good) and cheesecake. We then came home and took a massive nap after plunging into a food coma, but that cheesecake was stellar. Juniors also sells these tiny personal sized portion cheesecakes called little fellas. They used to be called LIL fellas. somewhere along the way the lil' became little. I am still going to call them lil' because that adds to their charm for me and quite frankly,it makes them sound a lot less fattening and exponentially more charming to boot. I find anything called lil' to be adorable and the fella added to the lil' almost makes me feel guilty for eating such a cute thing. I said almost. They are fabulous. If you ever have a cheesecake craving and see a lil' fella, jump on it, you won't be sorry.

So that's all I've got for you on a rainy dreary Saturday here. I hope you have a delicious treat yourself this weekend!

That's all for now :)

Ode to a Jackass

Those of you who have read previous entries here may remember: :"John Mayer, a Critical Analysis". In that entry I discussed my dislike for Mr Mayer and elaborated with my reasons. Today, I feel the need to throw Mr Jeremy Piven into the spotlight. After all,this is exactly where he wants to be isn't it?

I have never liked Jeremy Piven. He reeks of a smug,entitled self importance that I loathe. When he decided to leave the Broadway show he was performing in and used "mercury poisoning" as an excuse (claimed it was due to sushi), well, that set me off even more. No one eats that much sushi, I refuse to believe it. And if they do, why isn't every single Japanese person on this earth dead from this ailment?

This man strikes me as one of those "don't you know who I am?" people. I can totally see him stepping over an 83 year old lady who is in front of him to get his coffee quicker. And I've heard tales of his trying to mac on 20 year old girls with his "hey I'm a famous actor" shtick. Well hear me now Mr Piven, you may be famous but you are balding and smarmy and you are NOT funny. And I've written a haiku to tell you how I feel about you and it goes like this:








receding hairline

egotistical jackass

get over yourself






That's all for now :)

New, from the folks who brought you Delirious Girl® Lard...

Yays and Nays

Today was quite the day. For some reason I was highly annoyed quite a bit. And NO Aunt Flo isn't visiting for any sexist jerks out there theorizing on why I might be extra bitchy today.

I think I'm just going to make a list of the annoying things and balance them with some good ones so I don't come off as a totally miserable shrew.

Realize,this is a purely self-indulgent, cathartic, venting type of exercize for me so you might want to skip this entry if you have a low tolerance for bitching.


The Sour:

1.)People who walk in front of me on the street or in the subway in a meandering, zig-zag fashion. WTF people? To the left to the left? To the right to the right? MAKE UP YOUR MIND.

2.)In a related gripe, people who STOP dead at the top of an escalator. When I am behind them. And that vicious machine is still angrily cranking it's evil, gnashing metal stairs rapidly along. Get the pic?

3.) The existence of Twitter. I don't care what you had for lunch. I don't care about your new shoes. I don't care about the douchebag move your neighbor pulled. Please stop it. Stop it right now. Just stop. Okay? Please?


4.)John and Kate plus 8. COME ON. For the love of all that is holy, why am I being bombarded with the lurid details of their daily existence? I have never watched their show. I refuse to. I hate these people. Well, maybe not the kidlets, they don't deserve my fury but Mom and Dad suck ballz. How did they land a show? Why are they referred to as a "celeb" couple? This just infuriates me. It is indicative of everything that is wrong in the world. If this show is renewed for another season...well, then we have finally let the terrorists win haven't we?

5.) Insincere people. Confused People. People who say one thing and mean another and think I'm a mind reader. People who lack the ability to view others as thinking, feeling individuals just like them. People who do not live by the principle of treating others as they wish to be treated. It's so simple isn't it?

6.)Lara Spencer on The Insider. You know her, that skinny blond on that stupid Entertainment Tonight rip off show. I loathe this woman. I used to love her when she was on channel 7 here in NYC as a human interest segment reporter. Now she is a vapid fool. One minute she talks about David Carradine's death, the next she's telling you all about her outfit and her accessories and where to get them. I would love to slap her silly and ask her what happened to her since she moved to Hollywood.


7.) Passive aggressive psycho boss who tells me how amazinglyfabulous I am and then screams at me for something I had absolutely nothing to do with. Then hangs up on me without listening to me explain. Then figures out she wrongly chewed my face off. Then does not bother to apologize. Watch out for the fish bones beeatch, they're gonna get you eventually.


The Sweet:

1.)A patients wife giving me a glass of homemade lemonade today. Then she hugged me and told me she loved me. Then I watched her change her severely impaired husbands diaper and feed him lunch. And smile and cuddle him through the entire ordeal. If she was a man I would kidnap her and marry her. Hell, maybe I still will. Vermont is only a state away.

2.) The existence of Simon Baker. Don't like blonds per se. Am a bit confused by this but think of him occasionally in a day dreamy way and actually smile.

3.) My home cooked dinner of chicken curry stew. Take an onion, few cloves of garlic, bit of oil. Let it go for a bit. Add a tsp of GOOD curry powder, tsp of cumin and 2 tsp coriander. Few shakes of sriracha sauce. salt to taste. Let it get toasty. Now add about 10 to 12 skinless chicken drummettes. Now dump in a 16 ounce can of tomato sauce. Maybe a 1/2 can water. Now add a pound of chunked up carrots. Cover and let it go. for like an hour. Take the chicken out. Add about 4 zucchinis cut up roughly. Let it go for maybe 15 to 20 min. Add the chicken back to the pot. Stir in 1/4 cup greek yogurt. NOT the sissy yogurt, the manly greek stuff. Lastly add 2 Tablespoon peanut butter. That's it. YUMMO. Eat over Jasmine or Basmati rice and send me fan letters.

4.)The existence of Bacon. I thought about Bacon today and I smiled and felt warmly inside. Yes, it's capitalized and I know it and it always should be. If I could be intimate with a food, it would be Bacon. I would not fuck Bacon. I would make sweet love to Bacon. And you all know how I feel about that phrase "make love". It grosses me out like nothing else but with Bacon, I would fully realize that "making love" really does exist. I would marry Bacon. I'm tearing up just thinking of how happy Bacon and I would be together. Till the end of our lives, forever and ever. No judging, no worries or disappointments ever. Wait, where was I? Oh right, blog entry...*ahem, cough cough*

5.) A text I got today from my ex. This is a man who talks about poop with me and forays it into a reasonably intelligent conversation. It was a picture of a donut. It went like this:

Him: *insert donut pic*

Me: ?????

Him: I just ate a donut

Me: Ahhh, it was that simple


THE END. That interaction was the most satisfying one I had all day. It made me laugh. It made me smile. It made me feel understood in a strange way.


That's all for now :)

FML

FML, otherwise know as"fuck my life". There is a website that goes by this name that is basically devoted to people sharing their stories of embarrassing moments or humiliations with others. After telling their absurd tale they end the post with..."FML" or fuck my life.

I would imagine that were David Carradine alive today or better yet, were his spirit able to communicate with us today, he would be posting the events surrounding his untimely demise as his own personal, ultimate FML story. In a lovely gesture, his ex-wife is making all the entertainment show rounds discussing in depth his complusion to tie himself up in the bedroom and to hold his breath in the pool till he passed out. Sweet of her isn't it? In case you live in a cave, the semi-famous actor David Carradine recently bought the farm due to his insatiable lust for a mind blowing orgasm via auto-erotic asphyxiation. You know what that is, right? Basically you strangle yourself cutting off the oxygen to your brain in hopes that it will increase the sensation or some nonsense like that. The thing is, sometimes people die doing this. Remember the lead singer from the band INXS? Yes, my beloved teenage crush Michael Hutchence. Same fate. And the thing with this kind of death is that no matter what you did while you were alive, you could have cured cancer for crying out loud....but you will always be known for all of eternity as "that guy who died jerking off". Pity isn't it?

It reminds me of the conversations I used to have with my good friend about dying. We would speculate on the best and worst ways to go and how we thought we might go. I always thought I would end up ass up and face down on the toilet a la Elvis. Either that or in some huge dramatic WHOOPS type of accident where everyone standing by exclaims, "Wow, did you see that?"

Once, I was enjoying an intimate encounter with an old boyfriend and he got some really fierce chest pains. It was scary. I pushed him to go to the ER and the only thing that really got him to go was when I said..."look, if you collapse on top of me like this it's really gonna kill the mood and people will always talk about the way you died". Off we went to the ER.

I knew a woman whose best friend was in a similar situation with her boyfriend, who was affectionately referred to by everyone in the neighborhood as "Mr Ray". Mr Ray was a total charmer and owned a few apartment buildings. He was known and loved by one and all. He was a really decent guy who helped out a lot of people. The thing about Mr Ray was, he loved the ladies and he had a harem of them. He would give them free apartments in his buildings to keep them easy access so his wife wouldn't suspect anything while he was out sowing his oats. Oh, and Mr Ray was an extremely large, heavy man. Anyway, one night Mr Ray was engaged in some shagging with his lady friend when BOOM. Massive heart attack right on top of her. Mr Ray was so heavy that she was unable to move him off of her and the phone was out of reach. She layed there, completely helpless for a day and a half till someone found her like that. Can you imagine the trauma of that? Being completely naked for an entire day and night with a huge naked dead guy festering on top of you? This is a story that everyone in the neighborhood still talks about to this day. I cannot think of a more appropriate FML story than that one.

So let this be a lesson to all of you freaks out there who have the urge to strangle yourselves on your ultimate thrill quest, do it at your own risk. You may be forever known for your sensational death and nothing more.

That's all for now! :)

The Interchangeables

OK, I've had this thought for a very long time and I think it's finally time to share it with someone. Poor you if you happen to stumble onto this. I'll try to be more thought provoking next time.

For years, I could not keep B list actors Dylan McDermott and Dermott Mulroney straight. If I saw Dylan McDermott I could identify him for you, but Dermott Mulroney, well, that was just a wild crap shoot. And aren't they both foils for Julia Roberts vehicle's anyway? Now, along come Clive Owen and Gerard Butler. I must ask this.*Dateline announcer voice*........ Aren't these guys all the same person? Like, if one wasn't available for a role, the casting agent would immediately default to one of the others? I can completely see any of them in the same role and the role not suffering at all. If Rupert Everett hadn't recently butchered his face via cosmetic procedures, I would toss him in here as an alternate. Look at them , just look at them? Do you see what I mean? Has the Romantic Comedy Leading Man Factory been churning them out overtime? I'll bet even their own mothers would be fooled. If I had something nice to give you I would even make a contest for you and ask you to identify who is who in the pics I posted. I would bet that even with google at your fingertips you would be hard pressed to come up with the answer to this one.

I cannot be the only person to feel this way can I? Does anyone else get what I'm saying here? ANYONE? I feel so strongly about this that I am almost certain that the wives or girlfriends of these men would also be easily fooled. As a matter of fact, I'll go out on a limb and suggest that only dental records and DNA testing would adequately identify them as being different individuals.

That's all for now :)