Calendar 2010: Big Places, U.S.A.
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Shift your eyes a few inches to the right and look at my calendar, for sale on Zazzle. Big Places, U.S.A.--some of my photos of places where you can take a deep breath.
I wish Zazzle didn't price things quite so high but since it cost me nothing but time to put it up there, it's worth a shot. It's not just a calendar ... it's a place to rest your eyes and busy mind. And it's made with love.
Happy New Year.
I wish Zazzle didn't price things quite so high but since it cost me nothing but time to put it up there, it's worth a shot. It's not just a calendar ... it's a place to rest your eyes and busy mind. And it's made with love.
Happy New Year.
Labels: 2010, calendar, new year, photography, shopping, travel, travel in america
the first gift in
Sunday, December 7, 2008
A dear family member has sent us a very generous and kind gift that also is large and fits neither our house nor our lifestyle.
An eight-bottle wine cooler is a very fine gift except it’s kind of a major appliance that eats up a lot of counter space. Also, unless we are planning heavy entertaining, we rarely have more than a bottle or two of wine in the house. We like wine, but we’re not connoisseurs. We buy it, we drink it. Sometimes we open it, have a glass, then let it turn to vinegar. We often buy wine at the supermarket. When people give us good bottles of wine, we save them for special occasions that never arrive. We keep them in a wine rack, next to a bottle of Diet Coke and a bottle of club soda.
But now we have an eight-bottle wine cooler to live up to. So. We could keep more wine in the house. That’s not unthinkable. We could start collecting audacious little cabernets and putting them in our wine cooler. But is it appropriate to alter one’s behavior for the sole purpose of accommodating a gift?
We put the cooler on a counter in the kitchen, where it looked very large and important and startled us every time we went into the kitchen.
“It’s a good gift,” I said, as we looked at it. “It would just be better if…”
“…it were something else?” Tom said.
We woke yesterday morning and the first thing we both thought was, “Oh, we now have an eight-bottle wine cooler.”
I had to do some baking and needed the counter space so I asked Tom to move the wine cooler. He picked it up and walked around and around the house, looking for another place to keep it. It eventually got kind of heavy so he just stuck it on a desk near the back door, where it looked very large and important and startled us every time went in or out of the house.
Finally, Tom rearranged our cabinets and found space that could accommodate an eight-bottle wine cooler. We put the cooler in the cabinet, plugged it in, and put two bottles of wine in it, since that’s what we happened to have. Now, we will either marvel at the cool freshness of our two bottles of audaciously low-priced wines when we drink them, or we will forget all about them.
No, I would not rather have received a gift card. (Of the several pro and con responses I received to that column, including a couple of letters in today’s paper, the pro people were all the givers of gift cards. No one but MsKrit reported liking to receive gift cards.)
I think we are going to love our wine cooler. And I think I know someone who needs a shoe wheel.
An eight-bottle wine cooler is a very fine gift except it’s kind of a major appliance that eats up a lot of counter space. Also, unless we are planning heavy entertaining, we rarely have more than a bottle or two of wine in the house. We like wine, but we’re not connoisseurs. We buy it, we drink it. Sometimes we open it, have a glass, then let it turn to vinegar. We often buy wine at the supermarket. When people give us good bottles of wine, we save them for special occasions that never arrive. We keep them in a wine rack, next to a bottle of Diet Coke and a bottle of club soda.
But now we have an eight-bottle wine cooler to live up to. So. We could keep more wine in the house. That’s not unthinkable. We could start collecting audacious little cabernets and putting them in our wine cooler. But is it appropriate to alter one’s behavior for the sole purpose of accommodating a gift?
We put the cooler on a counter in the kitchen, where it looked very large and important and startled us every time we went into the kitchen.
“It’s a good gift,” I said, as we looked at it. “It would just be better if…”
“…it were something else?” Tom said.
We woke yesterday morning and the first thing we both thought was, “Oh, we now have an eight-bottle wine cooler.”
I had to do some baking and needed the counter space so I asked Tom to move the wine cooler. He picked it up and walked around and around the house, looking for another place to keep it. It eventually got kind of heavy so he just stuck it on a desk near the back door, where it looked very large and important and startled us every time went in or out of the house.
Finally, Tom rearranged our cabinets and found space that could accommodate an eight-bottle wine cooler. We put the cooler in the cabinet, plugged it in, and put two bottles of wine in it, since that’s what we happened to have. Now, we will either marvel at the cool freshness of our two bottles of audaciously low-priced wines when we drink them, or we will forget all about them.
No, I would not rather have received a gift card. (Of the several pro and con responses I received to that column, including a couple of letters in today’s paper, the pro people were all the givers of gift cards. No one but MsKrit reported liking to receive gift cards.)
I think we are going to love our wine cooler. And I think I know someone who needs a shoe wheel.
Labels: gifts, holidays, shopping
cruel shoes
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Dear Børn,
Long time wearer, first time writer…
I usually love your shoes and own many pairs, but I must complain about a design flaw in a pair I thought I would love.
The first time ever I saw your little brown ballet flats, the angels sang. Remember?
But a couple of hours into their first outing, I realized that these shoes are actually the work of the DEVIL HIMSELF.
Let’s take a closer look, shall we?
Note, if you will, the back of the shoe, which curves up into a devious Achilles-shredding point. No flesh, no Band-Aid can hold up under this crippling, hard-edged curve. What were you thinking, Børn?
I have tried wearing these cute cruel shoes a couple of times since that first attempt, heavily fortifying my heels with Band-Aids. But I invariably ended up limping and finishing my day out walking from car to door in my bare or stocking feet, so anxious was I to free myself from the agony.
And so, the shoes must go.
They are barely worn, Børn, but should I donate them to charity, as I do my other not-too-worn clothes? Or is that just passing the cruel buck?
You have disappointed me, Børn. Deeply. In penance, I think you should walk a mile in my shoes. These shoes.
Yours truly,
Sophie
Long time wearer, first time writer…
I usually love your shoes and own many pairs, but I must complain about a design flaw in a pair I thought I would love.
The first time ever I saw your little brown ballet flats, the angels sang. Remember?
But a couple of hours into their first outing, I realized that these shoes are actually the work of the DEVIL HIMSELF.
Let’s take a closer look, shall we?
Note, if you will, the back of the shoe, which curves up into a devious Achilles-shredding point. No flesh, no Band-Aid can hold up under this crippling, hard-edged curve. What were you thinking, Børn?
I have tried wearing these cute cruel shoes a couple of times since that first attempt, heavily fortifying my heels with Band-Aids. But I invariably ended up limping and finishing my day out walking from car to door in my bare or stocking feet, so anxious was I to free myself from the agony.
And so, the shoes must go.
They are barely worn, Børn, but should I donate them to charity, as I do my other not-too-worn clothes? Or is that just passing the cruel buck?
You have disappointed me, Børn. Deeply. In penance, I think you should walk a mile in my shoes. These shoes.
Yours truly,
Sophie
Labels: fashion, shoes, shopping
nonlinear blogging
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Since I’m not getting much work these days anyway, I thought I’d shoot myself in the foot completely and publish this op-ed about what I call the luxurification of America. Now all the luxury publications I met with at the travel conference will decide I’m not fit to work for them and I can go back to kvetching about the injustice of the travel writing business.
Change of subject…
The contractions in the newspaper business continue. I got three emails yesterday alone from the editor of the syndicate I write for about travel editors moving on, travel sections being folded into other sections. One editor who is taking a buyout urged others to keep fighting the good fight but that’s easy for him to say. There is no real fight anymore, it’s just scrambling for dry ground while the ship sinks.
You’ll miss newspapers when they’re gone and TV news talking heads are forced to just make shit up.
Change of subject…
How many old CD racks do you have floating around your house? As technology becomes obsolete, so do the peripherals surrounding it. What shall we use those CD racks for? They look like toast racks but who eats that much toast? My brother had a big standing wire CD rack he was getting rid of but before he chucked it, we set it on the coffee table and considered the possibilities for a while. The only even marginal idea we came up with was for storing jewelry—you could clip earrings on it and with hooks, hang necklaces. In the end, though, he threw it away. Whoever comes up with a solution to this question could make a million dollars. And then move on to repurposing cassette tape racks.
Change of subject...
Looky, the goddam shoe wheel now comes in pink. Perhaps that would make a good gift?
Tom actually unpacked the giant box of food storage containers. Hold me, I'm frightened...
Change of subject...
Speaking of gifts, surely you know someone who would love this. Or maybe this.
OK, I think I've run out of random thoughts for the moment.
Change of subject…
The contractions in the newspaper business continue. I got three emails yesterday alone from the editor of the syndicate I write for about travel editors moving on, travel sections being folded into other sections. One editor who is taking a buyout urged others to keep fighting the good fight but that’s easy for him to say. There is no real fight anymore, it’s just scrambling for dry ground while the ship sinks.
You’ll miss newspapers when they’re gone and TV news talking heads are forced to just make shit up.
Change of subject…
How many old CD racks do you have floating around your house? As technology becomes obsolete, so do the peripherals surrounding it. What shall we use those CD racks for? They look like toast racks but who eats that much toast? My brother had a big standing wire CD rack he was getting rid of but before he chucked it, we set it on the coffee table and considered the possibilities for a while. The only even marginal idea we came up with was for storing jewelry—you could clip earrings on it and with hooks, hang necklaces. In the end, though, he threw it away. Whoever comes up with a solution to this question could make a million dollars. And then move on to repurposing cassette tape racks.
Change of subject...
Looky, the goddam shoe wheel now comes in pink. Perhaps that would make a good gift?
Tom actually unpacked the giant box of food storage containers. Hold me, I'm frightened...
Change of subject...
Speaking of gifts, surely you know someone who would love this. Or maybe this.
OK, I think I've run out of random thoughts for the moment.
Labels: culture, newspapers, shopping, travel
because even goddam shoe wheels need friends
Friday, October 31, 2008
Here we have my Costco folly. It has been sitting in my car trunk since I bought it with a coupon at Costco about a month ago. For a nanosecond, the giant box of food storage containers seemed like a good idea, and it was just $20, with the coupon.
By the time I got to the check-out counter, I was completely over the giant box of food storage containers and knew it was an ill-conceived impulse grab. But I felt strangely helpless to stop the march of events through check-out. Before I knew it, I was wheeling my giant box of food storage containers toward the car, already planning to return it.
It’s not that we can’t use some new food storage containers. Our collection is sad and stained. We’ve had to toss a couple that split at the seams. Some of it was supposed to be disposable but was never disposed of. It dates back a few Christmases, came to us filled with Christmas goodies.
That’s one of the problems. Believe it or not, some of my old food storage containers have sentimental value. We have the holiday treats memory. One of our containers has “Zsa Zsa Battles” written in Sharpie on the lid. We used it to send kibble to the kennel. We have a salad container that belonged to our late friend Kevin Findley. It was not significant to his life in any way, but it’s a homely little daily reminder of someone we miss.
In a way, my Costco folly is a hostile interloper, trying to force its fancy big city “snapware” ways into my cozy little ragtag collection.
Also, we really don’t need 32 food storage containers. The giant box contains enough food containers to contain the food of a family of 12. There are just three of us (we have already ascertained that dogs use food storage containers in this house).
I blame the coupon. I got a catalog of coupons from Costco and felt compelled to use some. Had it not been for the coupon, I wouldn’t have given the giant box of food storage containers a glance, despite its prominent display in the store. But I had been recently annoyed by our food storage containers, which are not the least bit modular and frequently topple out of the cupboard. I had a coupon and the giant box of food containers was right there in front of my face. A confluence of events forced my hand. I couldn’t not buy the giant box of food storage containers.
I considered trying to hide it from Tom but wasn’t completely sure if he would be disgusted or delighted. Tom can still surprise me sometimes. He’d been griping about our incorrigible pile of unstackable old food storage containers recently. Still, I wasn’t surprised when he expressed puzzled dismay at the giant box of food storage containers. I immediately assured him that I would return it.
But, as you see, that never happened. The thing has never made it out of my car trunk. It sits next to the plastic bags that will someday be recycled. Every time I open the trunk, I feel ashamed. Were it not for the shame, I might open the box and take out a few storage containers to replace some of our most tired old food containers. But as long as the old grotty ones work, that feels wasteful. And as long as the box remains sealed, I can delude myself that someday I will return it to Costco or give it away as a gift to someone I don't like very much.
Will that ever happen? Maybe. Or maybe someday I will take my Costco folly out of the car and put it in the garage where it will live a lonely and neglected life. Not unlike the goddam shoe wheel (which at least lives in the house).
Labels: costco, memoir, shopping
bless her heart
Saturday, October 11, 2008
abercrombie & fitch should shrivel and die
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Abercrombie & Fitch is entitled to run its business almost any way it wants, although it did get spanked for discriminatory hiring practices.
However, this story about how employees deemed not attractive enough are hustled away to the storeroom, out of sight of customers, is so very very icky that I get the hoobie goobies thinking about it.
Ick. Ick, ick, ick, ick, ICK!
What are we doing to ourselves, what are we doing to our youth, where did our values go so far astray? We are marinating in a strange brew of entitlement and self-loathing, setting up impossible standards and then hating ourselves for our inability to live up to them. We must not only be young forever, we must be young and beautiful.
But by whose standards, please? Some numbnuts who has risen to district manager of an Abercrombie & Fitch? This person gets to decide who is beautiful enough to represent the company? Are our sensibilities, as consumers, so rareified that we would make our shopping decisions according to whether we are attracted to the elf who greets us at the door? Honestly, if you haven’t been chased out by the onslaught if music in A&F, which is played at jet-engine decibels, then surely you are tough enough to withstand the shock of seeing a young person who might not ever appear on the cover of a fashion magazine.
Besides, even if that person is worthy of a cover shot, he or she would be airbrushed anyway. Lilies must be gilded and then gilded again. We are never good enough.
However, this story about how employees deemed not attractive enough are hustled away to the storeroom, out of sight of customers, is so very very icky that I get the hoobie goobies thinking about it.
Ick. Ick, ick, ick, ick, ICK!
What are we doing to ourselves, what are we doing to our youth, where did our values go so far astray? We are marinating in a strange brew of entitlement and self-loathing, setting up impossible standards and then hating ourselves for our inability to live up to them. We must not only be young forever, we must be young and beautiful.
But by whose standards, please? Some numbnuts who has risen to district manager of an Abercrombie & Fitch? This person gets to decide who is beautiful enough to represent the company? Are our sensibilities, as consumers, so rareified that we would make our shopping decisions according to whether we are attracted to the elf who greets us at the door? Honestly, if you haven’t been chased out by the onslaught if music in A&F, which is played at jet-engine decibels, then surely you are tough enough to withstand the shock of seeing a young person who might not ever appear on the cover of a fashion magazine.
Besides, even if that person is worthy of a cover shot, he or she would be airbrushed anyway. Lilies must be gilded and then gilded again. We are never good enough.
Labels: feminism, pop culture, shopping
flotsam friday
Friday, August 15, 2008
I rarely agree with conservative groups agitating over our degrading morals, but this bunch bitching about how marital sex doesn’t get nearly the bump adultery does on TV strikes a chord. Because it’s not just the sex that’s portrayed as dismal—it’s marriage itself.
To quote myself:
…long-term relationships are most often portrayed as stultifying, tainted by seething resentments and unspoken disappointments.
Granted, there is some truth to the challenges of keeping marriage fresh, but long-term does have rewards. They're rarely explicitly portrayed in pop culture, though. Instead, we get Frank and Marie Barone, lobbing insults at each other. Or, more currently, Don and Betty Draper, going through the motions while Don gets his kicks in the big city and Betty gets hers on a horse.
Where are my role models, please?
***
This USA Today story addresses what women already know—the dressing room is a terrible, terrible place. I was kind of relieved to read that I’m not the only woman who has ever cried in a dressing room. It happened at The Gap, where I discovered that I am grossly deformed according to the standards of their designers.
How ‘bout bathing suit shopping? Most bathing suit makers seem to have no idea at all how women are put together.
Once, after a particularly demoralizing 30 minutes trying on bathing suits in Dillard’s, a saleswoman noticed how depressed I looked when I stepped out.
“It’s not you,” she said. “It’s the clothes.”
I will love that woman forever.
***
I haven’t mocked press releases for a while so here are some excerpts that made me slump.
This one arrived today:
Holiday shopping, a busy travel schedule and dry winter weather. Feeling overwhelmed yet? Recharge and get in the spirit with the enticing scent of cranberries in XXXXXXX wash and lotion.
This refreshing duo provides the perfect pick-me-up for tired hands and feet. Integrate them into your daily beauty regime to soothe seasonal stress. Festive XXX puts the “happy” back in front of holidays.
I understand that they’re pitching in time to make it into magazine holiday round-ups, but no, I’m not feeling overwhelmed yet and I don’t want to get into the spirit. I want to make it through the last of summer.
I am of the opinion that press releases should never ask questions because when they do, my answer is almost always, "No."
How about:
2008 is a year all about POWER, the struggle for it (politically), the display of it (athletically), and the conservation of it (economically and environmentally). This fall, XXX launches its olfactive answer to the question of what is power and how is it being redefined by modernity.
In an unprecedented partnership with prolific Japanese designer and art director of XXX proposes a powerful new identity for masculinity, one centered on simplicity, honesty, and an imaginary flower.
I don’t know which I like better, the “olfactive answer to the question of what is power” or “simplicity, honesty, and an imaginary flower.” Actually, this release is so ludicrous, it’s compelling.
I have to leave the product name in here because it’s part of the joke. The lame joke:
If you have commitment phobias, Sircuit has a product that will make you say Eye Dew!
This also arrived today:
With the winter months beating down upon us, it’s crucial that we prepare, protect and hydrate to keep our skin healthy all year round.
I just realized that they probably meant bearing down not beating down. At least I hope so.
Nothing wrong with this pitch, it just gets a shout-out for the unnecessary quotation marks:
As you are probably are aware, one of the "hottest" topics in the health, family, youth and beauty arenas right now is the safety and performance of sun block products.
And here’s one working much too hard:
Whether you are climbing the side of a mountain, kayaking through a canyon, or snorkeling off the coast, outdoor adventures render picturesque moments that deserve to be displayed and remembered. Present the moments you capture along the journey in a XXX.
XXX has just recently announced the XXX, a premium, hard-bound digital photo book. By simply uploading digital photos, XXX technology allows users to organize photos and preserve memories—like the time the canoe flipped— in the form of professional-looking photo book.
If the canoe flipped, would you really have photos? Or would you have a ruined digital camera? OK, presumably someone else’s canoe flipped … I’ll allow it. But it seems such a non sequitur…
***
Thanks to FrontBurner for finding this video, of a drunk and giddy Kelly Clarkson at a Red Sox game:
I've always like Kelly Clarkson and now I like her even more.
And thanks to Very Short List for this oddly moving and simply odd little film that puts a balloon into famous movie scenes. I don’t know why I was compelled to watch all six-plus minutes but I couldn’t stop.
To quote myself:
…long-term relationships are most often portrayed as stultifying, tainted by seething resentments and unspoken disappointments.
Granted, there is some truth to the challenges of keeping marriage fresh, but long-term does have rewards. They're rarely explicitly portrayed in pop culture, though. Instead, we get Frank and Marie Barone, lobbing insults at each other. Or, more currently, Don and Betty Draper, going through the motions while Don gets his kicks in the big city and Betty gets hers on a horse.
Where are my role models, please?
***
This USA Today story addresses what women already know—the dressing room is a terrible, terrible place. I was kind of relieved to read that I’m not the only woman who has ever cried in a dressing room. It happened at The Gap, where I discovered that I am grossly deformed according to the standards of their designers.
How ‘bout bathing suit shopping? Most bathing suit makers seem to have no idea at all how women are put together.
Once, after a particularly demoralizing 30 minutes trying on bathing suits in Dillard’s, a saleswoman noticed how depressed I looked when I stepped out.
“It’s not you,” she said. “It’s the clothes.”
I will love that woman forever.
***
I haven’t mocked press releases for a while so here are some excerpts that made me slump.
This one arrived today:
Holiday shopping, a busy travel schedule and dry winter weather. Feeling overwhelmed yet? Recharge and get in the spirit with the enticing scent of cranberries in XXXXXXX wash and lotion.
This refreshing duo provides the perfect pick-me-up for tired hands and feet. Integrate them into your daily beauty regime to soothe seasonal stress. Festive XXX puts the “happy” back in front of holidays.
I understand that they’re pitching in time to make it into magazine holiday round-ups, but no, I’m not feeling overwhelmed yet and I don’t want to get into the spirit. I want to make it through the last of summer.
I am of the opinion that press releases should never ask questions because when they do, my answer is almost always, "No."
How about:
2008 is a year all about POWER, the struggle for it (politically), the display of it (athletically), and the conservation of it (economically and environmentally). This fall, XXX launches its olfactive answer to the question of what is power and how is it being redefined by modernity.
In an unprecedented partnership with prolific Japanese designer and art director of XXX proposes a powerful new identity for masculinity, one centered on simplicity, honesty, and an imaginary flower.
I don’t know which I like better, the “olfactive answer to the question of what is power” or “simplicity, honesty, and an imaginary flower.” Actually, this release is so ludicrous, it’s compelling.
I have to leave the product name in here because it’s part of the joke. The lame joke:
If you have commitment phobias, Sircuit has a product that will make you say Eye Dew!
This also arrived today:
With the winter months beating down upon us, it’s crucial that we prepare, protect and hydrate to keep our skin healthy all year round.
I just realized that they probably meant bearing down not beating down. At least I hope so.
Nothing wrong with this pitch, it just gets a shout-out for the unnecessary quotation marks:
As you are probably are aware, one of the "hottest" topics in the health, family, youth and beauty arenas right now is the safety and performance of sun block products.
And here’s one working much too hard:
Whether you are climbing the side of a mountain, kayaking through a canyon, or snorkeling off the coast, outdoor adventures render picturesque moments that deserve to be displayed and remembered. Present the moments you capture along the journey in a XXX.
XXX has just recently announced the XXX, a premium, hard-bound digital photo book. By simply uploading digital photos, XXX technology allows users to organize photos and preserve memories—like the time the canoe flipped— in the form of professional-looking photo book.
If the canoe flipped, would you really have photos? Or would you have a ruined digital camera? OK, presumably someone else’s canoe flipped … I’ll allow it. But it seems such a non sequitur…
***
Thanks to FrontBurner for finding this video, of a drunk and giddy Kelly Clarkson at a Red Sox game:
I've always like Kelly Clarkson and now I like her even more.
And thanks to Very Short List for this oddly moving and simply odd little film that puts a balloon into famous movie scenes. I don’t know why I was compelled to watch all six-plus minutes but I couldn’t stop.
Labels: art, flotsam, marriage, pop culture, press releases, shopping, television
omg
Monday, August 4, 2008
Look here. Target is selling half a goddam shoe wheel.
Our goddam shoe wheel is still part of the family. We've had it since December 2006. Maybe some day we'll open the box.
Our goddam shoe wheel is still part of the family. We've had it since December 2006. Maybe some day we'll open the box.
Labels: shopping
bra talk
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
This is for all my sisters in boobage.
I made myself a halter top this weekend. I’m not sure what possessed me, considering that I’ve never been able to wear one. But I went on faith that the advanced bra technology I’ve been hearing about on the teevee had created a convertible bra that doesn’t suck.
Hallelujah and God bless Lilyette. This is a great bra.
Hurry and buy one. I like it so much, it's sure to be discontinued any minute.
I made myself a halter top this weekend. I’m not sure what possessed me, considering that I’ve never been able to wear one. But I went on faith that the advanced bra technology I’ve been hearing about on the teevee had created a convertible bra that doesn’t suck.
Hallelujah and God bless Lilyette. This is a great bra.
Hurry and buy one. I like it so much, it's sure to be discontinued any minute.
the business bib
Monday, June 16, 2008
No, it's not to keep your tie clean. That would be far less appalling.
Thanks to the Dallas Morning News shopping blog for implanting these disturbing images in my brain.
You must see the Business Bib for yourself. And be sure to view the Flickr slideshow.
And, the DMN points out, they are sold out.
Thanks to the Dallas Morning News shopping blog for implanting these disturbing images in my brain.
You must see the Business Bib for yourself. And be sure to view the Flickr slideshow.
And, the DMN points out, they are sold out.
Labels: clothing, shopping, the horror
threats lurk everywhere (and other Monday amusements)
I was shopping online for a bathing suit for Tom and came across this interesting product description:
These boardies are quick drying and are Velcro-free for extra comfort.
• 100% Polyester Twill
• No Velcro fly
• Inside waistband may imply offensive slogan
***
I rarely read B.C. because of it’s religious proselytizing (this word is difficult to spell and equally difficult to look up) but today's is funny.
So was today’s Mother Goose and Grimm (that’s June 16, if you’re late to this blog).
***
I got a shout out in my friend Tom Swick’s blog today, because a told a sad tale of journalist abuse (in the comments).
***
New workout DVD reviews up on Suit Up and Show Up. Checkitout, OK?
These boardies are quick drying and are Velcro-free for extra comfort.
• 100% Polyester Twill
• No Velcro fly
• Inside waistband may imply offensive slogan
***
I rarely read B.C. because of it’s religious proselytizing (this word is difficult to spell and equally difficult to look up) but today's is funny.
So was today’s Mother Goose and Grimm (that’s June 16, if you’re late to this blog).
***
I got a shout out in my friend Tom Swick’s blog today, because a told a sad tale of journalist abuse (in the comments).
***
New workout DVD reviews up on Suit Up and Show Up. Checkitout, OK?
Labels: cartoons, shopping, writers
shopping notes
Friday, June 13, 2008
I’ve been shopping recently. Always an adventure, often not a lot of fun.
But first, let’s revisit a shopping trip past.
If you’ve been with me a while, you may remember The Shoes.
The golden shoes. The shoes for which the angels sang.
Alas, alas. Turns out they are not the shoes from the heavens, they are the devil’s work.
They hurt. Oh lawdy, they hurt. They dig into the backs of my heels and rip them raw. I have tried taping up my heels but they just rub the tape off and chew me up. I wore them for the second time today and went to the dentist, to lunch, to the supermarket. I was hobbling by the time I got home. Tragedy comes in so many forms. This is one. Oh, deceitful shoes, all your promises broken.
Speaking of pain, I’ve been shopping for a bathing suit, too. That’s time consuming because my ego can only stand about eight bathing suits per shopping trip. But amazingly, after trying on only about a dozen suits, I found one for the ages at Marshall’s, of all places. For $24.99. I never look for suits at Marshall’s-—I tend to spend real money on my suits--but I’ve been feeling hopeful and damned if I didn’t score on a sassy black tankini. It had its first outing last week and the consensus was that I have found a magical bathing suit. I have been running to Marshall’s all over town, now, looking for another so that I may have this bathing suit for the ages. So far no good but I have a few more Marshall's to go. (BTW, Lara tells me Kohl's has cute suits, too.)
I need new sandals, too, but I was a dope not to buy them two weeks ago, when Marshall’s and DSW were full of ‘em. Now the pickings are very slim. What could have been an easy flash of the credit card now is a quest. I mean, there are lots of sandals out there but I have needs and desires that must be fulfilled and the detritus on the shelves just doesn’t have what it takes.
By the way, is there any place more revolting than the Ross Dress for Less shoe department? Total chaos. I am convinced their associates are hired for their havoc-wreaking talents and that every night after the store closes, instead of organizing the shoe racks, they assiduously put the size 5s among the 8s, strew sandals everywhere and mismatch the athletic shoes. I also suspect the company keeps screaming babies on the payroll because there’s always at least one. Every time I go into Ross I swear never to return but I always drift back.
I also need a purse. (Yes, Tom, I know. But purses go out of style, too.) I’m the opposite of fashion-forward because it takes a while before my eyes adjust to new silhouettes and I have finally come to understand that my cute little purses just don’t look right anymore. So I’m looking at big purses, even though I always feel silly with a big purse because all that’s ever in it is a wallet, a phone, a brush and a lipstick, all rattling around the bottom. I find myself apologizing to security guards who peek in and then look at me as if I’m loony.
Here's a tip: I was in Sears the other day looking for something hardware-like and discovered that they have a lot of cute cheap purses.
Y’all have a great weekend, hear? And look for me at Marshall’s.
P.S. Black and Blue at the Barley House tonight. Dude.
But first, let’s revisit a shopping trip past.
If you’ve been with me a while, you may remember The Shoes.
The golden shoes. The shoes for which the angels sang.
Alas, alas. Turns out they are not the shoes from the heavens, they are the devil’s work.
They hurt. Oh lawdy, they hurt. They dig into the backs of my heels and rip them raw. I have tried taping up my heels but they just rub the tape off and chew me up. I wore them for the second time today and went to the dentist, to lunch, to the supermarket. I was hobbling by the time I got home. Tragedy comes in so many forms. This is one. Oh, deceitful shoes, all your promises broken.
Speaking of pain, I’ve been shopping for a bathing suit, too. That’s time consuming because my ego can only stand about eight bathing suits per shopping trip. But amazingly, after trying on only about a dozen suits, I found one for the ages at Marshall’s, of all places. For $24.99. I never look for suits at Marshall’s-—I tend to spend real money on my suits--but I’ve been feeling hopeful and damned if I didn’t score on a sassy black tankini. It had its first outing last week and the consensus was that I have found a magical bathing suit. I have been running to Marshall’s all over town, now, looking for another so that I may have this bathing suit for the ages. So far no good but I have a few more Marshall's to go. (BTW, Lara tells me Kohl's has cute suits, too.)
I need new sandals, too, but I was a dope not to buy them two weeks ago, when Marshall’s and DSW were full of ‘em. Now the pickings are very slim. What could have been an easy flash of the credit card now is a quest. I mean, there are lots of sandals out there but I have needs and desires that must be fulfilled and the detritus on the shelves just doesn’t have what it takes.
By the way, is there any place more revolting than the Ross Dress for Less shoe department? Total chaos. I am convinced their associates are hired for their havoc-wreaking talents and that every night after the store closes, instead of organizing the shoe racks, they assiduously put the size 5s among the 8s, strew sandals everywhere and mismatch the athletic shoes. I also suspect the company keeps screaming babies on the payroll because there’s always at least one. Every time I go into Ross I swear never to return but I always drift back.
I also need a purse. (Yes, Tom, I know. But purses go out of style, too.) I’m the opposite of fashion-forward because it takes a while before my eyes adjust to new silhouettes and I have finally come to understand that my cute little purses just don’t look right anymore. So I’m looking at big purses, even though I always feel silly with a big purse because all that’s ever in it is a wallet, a phone, a brush and a lipstick, all rattling around the bottom. I find myself apologizing to security guards who peek in and then look at me as if I’m loony.
Here's a tip: I was in Sears the other day looking for something hardware-like and discovered that they have a lot of cute cheap purses.
Y’all have a great weekend, hear? And look for me at Marshall’s.
P.S. Black and Blue at the Barley House tonight. Dude.
Labels: clothes, fashion, marshalls, ross, shopping
time for my makeover!
Monday, May 19, 2008
Here goes. My last week of my 40s. So many worries and concerns.
For example, how will I look when my hair magically poufs up into the obligatory old lady hairdo? Can one still buy pink foam rollers for pouf maintenance?
Where do old ladies buy the sucking candies they carry in their handbags? (My grandma carried these rectangular fruity things that were filled with fruity goo. The first cum candy.) How long should they collect lint in the bottom of my handbag before they’re suitable for distribution?
I guess I’m going to have to open a Dillard’s account.
Too bad I look terrible in white pants, but what can I do? The fashionistas have spoken. And I hope Tom will love me all the same in white waist-high nylon panties.
It will be kind of a relief to give up all pretense of wearing cute shoes and just relax into comfortable. I'm thinking white sandals with nice thick gum soles and Velcro closures. And perhaps little gold tsatsakas dangling off them, to make them look snazzy.
Gosh, it’s going to be a busy week. A girl doesn’t age overnight, you know. What else do I need for this very important transition?
By the way, all you Metroplexites. My birthday weekend kicks off Friday night at the AllGood. Black and Blue will rock in my advanced age. If you’re out and about, wander that way. Music starts 9-ish. (Because we old folks just can’t stay up late.)
For example, how will I look when my hair magically poufs up into the obligatory old lady hairdo? Can one still buy pink foam rollers for pouf maintenance?
Where do old ladies buy the sucking candies they carry in their handbags? (My grandma carried these rectangular fruity things that were filled with fruity goo. The first cum candy.) How long should they collect lint in the bottom of my handbag before they’re suitable for distribution?
I guess I’m going to have to open a Dillard’s account.
Too bad I look terrible in white pants, but what can I do? The fashionistas have spoken. And I hope Tom will love me all the same in white waist-high nylon panties.
It will be kind of a relief to give up all pretense of wearing cute shoes and just relax into comfortable. I'm thinking white sandals with nice thick gum soles and Velcro closures. And perhaps little gold tsatsakas dangling off them, to make them look snazzy.
Gosh, it’s going to be a busy week. A girl doesn’t age overnight, you know. What else do I need for this very important transition?
By the way, all you Metroplexites. My birthday weekend kicks off Friday night at the AllGood. Black and Blue will rock in my advanced age. If you’re out and about, wander that way. Music starts 9-ish. (Because we old folks just can’t stay up late.)
Labels: birthdays, fashion, midlife, milf, shoes, shopping
full-throttle flotsam
Friday, May 16, 2008
Alrighty then, lots of flotsam for your procrastinators today. A little something for everyone. (Maybe. I don’t know.)
I am happy to report that the incorrigible Jack has become partly corriged. He has adjusted to the electric fence and no longer wanders at will. No more crossing the creek and coming home muddy, no more chasing off the mailman, no more patrolling the alley and riling up the other dogs. He doesn’t seem particularly traumatized by the limits. Perhaps the responsibility of patrolling so large an area weighed heavily on his burly shoulders and troubled his large noggin. His own yard is large enough. So many squirrels, so little time. And so much napping to be done. How is one dog to do it all without some limits?
Now I need an electric fence for the sofa. He is not allowed on the sofa and knows it, but at night, after we go to bed, he helps himself. At the suggestion of one of his many trainers, I tried booby trapping it last night by covering it with newspapers and balancing a couple beer cans filled with coins on the papers, which were supposed to fall off and make noise and either frighten him off or wake us up. They did neither. He managed to fit his large tuchus between the cans, barely even disturbing them. So, back to shutting him out of the living room at night. He hates that. The other night, I had to put his leash on him and drag him out. Literally drag him—he put that aforementioned large tuchus on the floor and wouldn’t move it.
Brat.
***
Slate has a special issue on procrastination (speaking of blogging) which includes this story, asking the question What is the difference between severe procrastination and writer's block?
So, I have this novel I’ve been working on for about three years. I’m in revisions. Ten painful pages at a time. And a half-finished book proposal that’s been collecting cyber dust for more than a year. So slow. I could do better. I know it. I’m not blocked, I’m procrastinating, Because as long as these remain remain unfinished they might be brilliant. If I finish them, their lead feet will be obvious.
Says one expert: "The chronic procrastinator knows he's presenting a negative image, but he'd rather be perceived negatively for lack of effort than for lack of ability."
***
The research corner:
Important news about men and their thingies: First, the International Society for Sexual Medicine has only just come up with (no pun intended) a formal definition of premature ejaculation. I know, can you believe it? I personally have never encountered this particular problem but in case you’re wondering, it is now defined as: “a male sexual dysfunction characterized by ejaculation which always or nearly always occurs prior to or within about one minute of vaginal penetration; and, inability to delay ejaculation on all or nearly all vaginal penetrations; and, negative personal consequences, such as distress, bother, frustration and/or the avoidance of sexual intimacy.”
And, says the study’s main author, “The hope is that more people with these symptoms will understand this is an actual health condition and seek treatment. They no longer need to suffer in silence.”
In related thingie-research: Gastric Bypass Surgery Restores Sexual Function in Morbidly Obese Men—Losing weight may help resolve erectile dysfunction in obese men.
Mostly, it helps them get laid more, I assume.
Having just experienced a highly unpleasant allergic reaction to a drug (my friends got all the gory details, I spared most of you) I was drawn to research into why scratching helps an itch. The study involved 13 healthy participants who underwent testing with functional magnetic resonance imaging (MRI) technology that highlights areas of the brain activated during an activity. Participants were scratched on the lower leg with a small brush. The scratching went on for 30 seconds and was then stopped for 30 seconds – for a total of about five minutes.
“To our surprise, we found that areas of the brain associated with unpleasant or aversive emotions and memories became significantly less active during the scratching,” said Yosipovitch. “We know scratching is pleasurable, but we haven’t known why. It’s possible that scratching may suppress the emotional components of itch and bring about its relief.”
So scratching is not really physical relief, it’s emotional. Which, when you think about it makes sense. Itching is so miserable … a persistent itch makes you want to scream, cry, bang your head repeatedly against a wall. Finally succumbing to the urge to scratch? Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. It’s more than physical relief. It’s bliss—however short lived and guilty, since we know we shouldn’t scratch.
The rash is fading and I will never take Aleve again.
Here’s a fun read from the Wall Street Journal, about retail therapy. Yup, psychologists and neuroscientists are studying that, too. Not to help us, mind you. To help retailers.
But keep this in mind—just like those little 100-calorie size snack packs of cookies and other treats can help us eat less, how we carry money can help us spend less, according to one study: Students were given $100 in pretend cash to participate in a gambling study. Some students received one sealed envelope with all the money, and others got 10 sealed envelopes that each contained $10. Individuals with multiple envelopes tended to spend less, sometimes half of what the people with the single envelope spent. "The power of partitioning can reduce spending by 50 percent," Cheema said.
I don’t like carrying lots of cash for this very reason. If I have it, I spend it. If I have to go back to the ATM, I become more aware of my spending. (And I am on near-lockdown on credit cards right now. Not complete, but I’m staying careful. Baby needs a new tank of gas…)
***
Dunno why it’s taken me so long, but I’d like to point out a new blogroll link—to the blog of my friend Jenna and her friend Rachel. The Haiku Diaries is commentaries on life entirely in the 5-7-5 format. It’s so much fun. I like to comment in haiku when I’m feeling sharp enough.
***
This week instead of just a list of google searches, a little commentary on a select few.
I find a lot of searches that look like this: 2008 contact emails of the doctors @yahoo.com in Florida; email contact women's america 2008@yahoo.com
I was baffled until learning that these are the kinds of searches used by spammers to harvest email addresses. OK, that would explain the ever-thickening blizzard of spam I receive.
Three of my photos have become very popular: the one of a pyramid at Teotihuacan, the portrait of a xoloescuintle and the plastic army men war atrocities. These turn up so often, I assume someone is using them for something somewhere, but I can’t figure out how to figure it out.
Someone searched hillary jillette cunt which I suppose relates to Hillary Clinton and Penn Jillette. I know he called her a bitch. Did he call her a cunt, too? What a prick.
Someone searched Elizabet gilbert eat, pray, love review childfree, which is a little confusing.
Chelle, someone searched you. Someone searched my brother Oliver. And someone searched "black and blue" "rolling stones" tribute band dallas, texas myspace which had a very happy ending, since it resulted in a job for Black and Blue. May 31, Tolbert’s in Grapevine. Glad to help…
And that's Friday.
I am happy to report that the incorrigible Jack has become partly corriged. He has adjusted to the electric fence and no longer wanders at will. No more crossing the creek and coming home muddy, no more chasing off the mailman, no more patrolling the alley and riling up the other dogs. He doesn’t seem particularly traumatized by the limits. Perhaps the responsibility of patrolling so large an area weighed heavily on his burly shoulders and troubled his large noggin. His own yard is large enough. So many squirrels, so little time. And so much napping to be done. How is one dog to do it all without some limits?
Now I need an electric fence for the sofa. He is not allowed on the sofa and knows it, but at night, after we go to bed, he helps himself. At the suggestion of one of his many trainers, I tried booby trapping it last night by covering it with newspapers and balancing a couple beer cans filled with coins on the papers, which were supposed to fall off and make noise and either frighten him off or wake us up. They did neither. He managed to fit his large tuchus between the cans, barely even disturbing them. So, back to shutting him out of the living room at night. He hates that. The other night, I had to put his leash on him and drag him out. Literally drag him—he put that aforementioned large tuchus on the floor and wouldn’t move it.
Brat.
***
Slate has a special issue on procrastination (speaking of blogging) which includes this story, asking the question What is the difference between severe procrastination and writer's block?
So, I have this novel I’ve been working on for about three years. I’m in revisions. Ten painful pages at a time. And a half-finished book proposal that’s been collecting cyber dust for more than a year. So slow. I could do better. I know it. I’m not blocked, I’m procrastinating, Because as long as these remain remain unfinished they might be brilliant. If I finish them, their lead feet will be obvious.
Says one expert: "The chronic procrastinator knows he's presenting a negative image, but he'd rather be perceived negatively for lack of effort than for lack of ability."
***
The research corner:
Important news about men and their thingies: First, the International Society for Sexual Medicine has only just come up with (no pun intended) a formal definition of premature ejaculation. I know, can you believe it? I personally have never encountered this particular problem but in case you’re wondering, it is now defined as: “a male sexual dysfunction characterized by ejaculation which always or nearly always occurs prior to or within about one minute of vaginal penetration; and, inability to delay ejaculation on all or nearly all vaginal penetrations; and, negative personal consequences, such as distress, bother, frustration and/or the avoidance of sexual intimacy.”
And, says the study’s main author, “The hope is that more people with these symptoms will understand this is an actual health condition and seek treatment. They no longer need to suffer in silence.”
In related thingie-research: Gastric Bypass Surgery Restores Sexual Function in Morbidly Obese Men—Losing weight may help resolve erectile dysfunction in obese men.
Mostly, it helps them get laid more, I assume.
Having just experienced a highly unpleasant allergic reaction to a drug (my friends got all the gory details, I spared most of you) I was drawn to research into why scratching helps an itch. The study involved 13 healthy participants who underwent testing with functional magnetic resonance imaging (MRI) technology that highlights areas of the brain activated during an activity. Participants were scratched on the lower leg with a small brush. The scratching went on for 30 seconds and was then stopped for 30 seconds – for a total of about five minutes.
“To our surprise, we found that areas of the brain associated with unpleasant or aversive emotions and memories became significantly less active during the scratching,” said Yosipovitch. “We know scratching is pleasurable, but we haven’t known why. It’s possible that scratching may suppress the emotional components of itch and bring about its relief.”
So scratching is not really physical relief, it’s emotional. Which, when you think about it makes sense. Itching is so miserable … a persistent itch makes you want to scream, cry, bang your head repeatedly against a wall. Finally succumbing to the urge to scratch? Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. It’s more than physical relief. It’s bliss—however short lived and guilty, since we know we shouldn’t scratch.
The rash is fading and I will never take Aleve again.
Here’s a fun read from the Wall Street Journal, about retail therapy. Yup, psychologists and neuroscientists are studying that, too. Not to help us, mind you. To help retailers.
But keep this in mind—just like those little 100-calorie size snack packs of cookies and other treats can help us eat less, how we carry money can help us spend less, according to one study: Students were given $100 in pretend cash to participate in a gambling study. Some students received one sealed envelope with all the money, and others got 10 sealed envelopes that each contained $10. Individuals with multiple envelopes tended to spend less, sometimes half of what the people with the single envelope spent. "The power of partitioning can reduce spending by 50 percent," Cheema said.
I don’t like carrying lots of cash for this very reason. If I have it, I spend it. If I have to go back to the ATM, I become more aware of my spending. (And I am on near-lockdown on credit cards right now. Not complete, but I’m staying careful. Baby needs a new tank of gas…)
***
Dunno why it’s taken me so long, but I’d like to point out a new blogroll link—to the blog of my friend Jenna and her friend Rachel. The Haiku Diaries is commentaries on life entirely in the 5-7-5 format. It’s so much fun. I like to comment in haiku when I’m feeling sharp enough.
***
This week instead of just a list of google searches, a little commentary on a select few.
I find a lot of searches that look like this: 2008 contact emails of the doctors @yahoo.com in Florida; email contact women's america 2008@yahoo.com
I was baffled until learning that these are the kinds of searches used by spammers to harvest email addresses. OK, that would explain the ever-thickening blizzard of spam I receive.
Three of my photos have become very popular: the one of a pyramid at Teotihuacan, the portrait of a xoloescuintle and the plastic army men war atrocities. These turn up so often, I assume someone is using them for something somewhere, but I can’t figure out how to figure it out.
Someone searched hillary jillette cunt which I suppose relates to Hillary Clinton and Penn Jillette. I know he called her a bitch. Did he call her a cunt, too? What a prick.
Someone searched Elizabet gilbert eat, pray, love review childfree, which is a little confusing.
Chelle, someone searched you. Someone searched my brother Oliver. And someone searched "black and blue" "rolling stones" tribute band dallas, texas myspace which had a very happy ending, since it resulted in a job for Black and Blue. May 31, Tolbert’s in Grapevine. Glad to help…
And that's Friday.
Labels: blogging, brain science, dallas morning news, dog training, dogs, google, jack, photography, psychology, research, sex, sexism, shopping, writing
today's atrocity
Monday, May 12, 2008
So many questions...
Is it at all possible these are twins? Their hair is parted on different sides. Or is that just a clever, clever way of tricking us into thinking it's not the same woman?
This is/these are a very pretty woman/very pretty women--can't she/they get any better work?
What about these outfits made the Dillard's advertising department think them worthy of featuring in a half page ad?
Does Dillard's sell only the most hideous clothes its buyers can find? Is that why they can afford only one model?
Why does Dillard's they hate mothers? (This is a Mother's Day sale ad from yesterday.)
Any other questions?
Is it at all possible these are twins? Their hair is parted on different sides. Or is that just a clever, clever way of tricking us into thinking it's not the same woman?
This is/these are a very pretty woman/very pretty women--can't she/they get any better work?
What about these outfits made the Dillard's advertising department think them worthy of featuring in a half page ad?
Does Dillard's sell only the most hideous clothes its buyers can find? Is that why they can afford only one model?
Why does Dillard's they hate mothers? (This is a Mother's Day sale ad from yesterday.)
Any other questions?
Labels: advertising, clothing, mother's day, newspapers, shopping, the horror
mother's day
Saturday, May 10, 2008
Dear MILF,
It annoys me that you're hotter than I am so here are some hideous, dumpy outfits so my boyfriend stops looking at you like you're a sweet piece of mom-candy.
Happy Mother's Day!
Hugs!
Your daughter
It annoys me that you're hotter than I am so here are some hideous, dumpy outfits so my boyfriend stops looking at you like you're a sweet piece of mom-candy.
Happy Mother's Day!
Hugs!
Your daughter
Labels: advertising, dillard's, holidays, milf, mother's day, shopping
ff
Friday, May 9, 2008
You learn something new every day (if you’re lucky). I had no idea there was a Texas-shaped swimming pool in Plano. How delicious is that? If I lived closer, I’d join. Keep the pool alive, Planites. Join today.
On my one trip to Branson, MO many years ago, I stayed at the Music Country Motor Inn because it had a guitar-shaped swimming pool. Too bad the postcard doesn’t do the pool justice.
I don’t remember the room. I do remember seeing Mel Tillis and Shoji Tabuchi. Just what is the Shoji Tabuchi Show that everyone loving American music is raving about? his website asks. A Japanese fiddler. Yes indeedy.
***
According to this article, when the economy struggles, lipstick sales soar. Interesting. I wonder if then, these women promptly lose said lipsticks, as I do. Yes, the problem continues. Where do they go?
What do you give up when money gets tight? For one thing, Jack isn’t getting shmancy organic biscuits these days. When we have money, I order them online from a small company because with these biscuits, his breath stays sweet. These days, he’s eating semi-fancy Petco biscuits and his breath can knock you over from across the room. We also stop shopping at Whole Foods. Tom Thumb is good enough. We’re cutting back on our meat consumption a bit, too. Which is good for us in many various ways.
I have definitely started watching my driving. The other day I met friends for lunch in Plano, which is a haul for me. Driving home, I realized that gas added about another $12 to the cheap lunch. I watched that gauge as obsessively as I watch taxi meters in New York. (Although that’s less about the price of the ride than the performance pressure of calculating the tip. I calculate and recalculate the tip every time the meter flips.)
What else? I go the library more. I don’t buy many new books but when money is tight, I buy even fewer. I’m somewhat less likely to order wine when I eat out. (Somewhat. Depends on the day of the week.)
The one thing I still can’t bring myself to give up, though, is having someone clean my house every two weeks. It’s a luxury I can no longer live without. Life is short, my house gets really dirty.
***
Ms. Krit sent that lipstick article, and she sent me this article, about how to buy a dictionary.
Her favorite part and mine:
Look for dirty words.
All parts of English are important, even those trouble-making words that are coarse, derogatory, or sexual. A good lexicographer will include the most common words of all kinds, including ones that can be troublesome.
If a dictionary’s editors have chosen to leave out words they consider offensive, we must also wonder what other words they have left out. What are their criteria for judging words to be offensive? Are they leaving out words that concern any religion but their own? Are they leaving out words that deal with political viewpoints they don’t support? Are they leaving out words simply because they think they’re ugly? Are they including words simply because they like them? Are they deleting insulting words for their own ethnic group and leaving in insulting words for other groups?
See? Profanity does have a noble purpose? Fuckin’ A!
***
My favorite New Yorker cartoon of the week, right here.
***
Some Mother’s Day snark for the unsentimental.
Is this the scariest ad EVER? It’s the attack of the mom clones. Not to mention the scary clothes. The outfit on Mom #1 is clearly designed for the mom you hate. Stacey and Clinton, please help.
Here, from my favorite ecard site, is a collection of Mother’s Day cards you would never dare send, much as you might want to.
I’ve seen articles that say people are going to spend more on their mothers this year, and articles that say they are going to spend less. Predictably, mothers say, “Oh, don’t worry about me. I’ll sit in the dark.”
This just in: Mother's Day press release with infuriating unnecessary apostrophes: Wanted to pass along this last minute gift idea for those active mom's or for those mom's that always have sore, tired feet. Please let me know if you would like more information or need any images or product samples.
To add to the idiocy, the message text gives no clue as to what the product is. I would have to open an attachment for any more information. Not gonna do it, Matt. If for no other reason than because you're an idiot. What would your mother think?
Don’t know what to get mom? Perhaps this:
***
And finally, searches of the week.
My portrait of a xoloescuintle was very popular on Thursday. Maybe someone was passing it around? It was accessed a number of times. Also, from the same page, the photo of the pyramids and my arty farty flower shot.
I was disturbed by the search
i hate ps 166
How could anyone hate PS 166, my beloved alma mater? Now, if they knew Ethel O. Ebin, the principal when I was there, I could understand hating her, nasty old bat. I wish I had a photo of her. She had a grubby beehive hairdo that looked like it housed rodents.
Other searches this week:
Thank God I books for sale Castagnini
inside the brain of a narcissist
Narcissist Bully
negative reviews of elizabeth gilbert's eat, pray, love
gmail emails not reaching their destination
derivation of lithium name
cashmere bouquet plant
customer support gmail
outlook autofill subject line
mayeaux pronunciation
odd looking dogs
give me obama email adress and guest 2008@yahoo.com
jack kent cooke Conundrum
gmail to yahoo not getting sent
sophia needlepoint
jean fain
46/64 baby boomers magazine dallas morning news
CAROLINE HELDMAN self objectification
2008 guess book of jane in the usa @yahoo.com @gmail.com
"black and blue" dallas
intriguing
fun shit in dallas texas
"Advanced Backup Plug-In"
Menade du: "Advanced Backup PlugIn"
picture of someone eating a twinkie
knyledge Sutton
2008 email contact of directors in bangkok @gmail.com
smacking upside the head emoticon
rooting cashmere bouquet
+27+2008+2009 @yahoo.com OR @yahoo.com OR mail.com "director"
ooed and ahed
pronounce loehmann's
"an open mind" book markova
55L alpine pack = too big??
beautiful aunties with saris
That is all. Happy Friday.
On my one trip to Branson, MO many years ago, I stayed at the Music Country Motor Inn because it had a guitar-shaped swimming pool. Too bad the postcard doesn’t do the pool justice.
I don’t remember the room. I do remember seeing Mel Tillis and Shoji Tabuchi. Just what is the Shoji Tabuchi Show that everyone loving American music is raving about? his website asks. A Japanese fiddler. Yes indeedy.
***
According to this article, when the economy struggles, lipstick sales soar. Interesting. I wonder if then, these women promptly lose said lipsticks, as I do. Yes, the problem continues. Where do they go?
What do you give up when money gets tight? For one thing, Jack isn’t getting shmancy organic biscuits these days. When we have money, I order them online from a small company because with these biscuits, his breath stays sweet. These days, he’s eating semi-fancy Petco biscuits and his breath can knock you over from across the room. We also stop shopping at Whole Foods. Tom Thumb is good enough. We’re cutting back on our meat consumption a bit, too. Which is good for us in many various ways.
I have definitely started watching my driving. The other day I met friends for lunch in Plano, which is a haul for me. Driving home, I realized that gas added about another $12 to the cheap lunch. I watched that gauge as obsessively as I watch taxi meters in New York. (Although that’s less about the price of the ride than the performance pressure of calculating the tip. I calculate and recalculate the tip every time the meter flips.)
What else? I go the library more. I don’t buy many new books but when money is tight, I buy even fewer. I’m somewhat less likely to order wine when I eat out. (Somewhat. Depends on the day of the week.)
The one thing I still can’t bring myself to give up, though, is having someone clean my house every two weeks. It’s a luxury I can no longer live without. Life is short, my house gets really dirty.
***
Ms. Krit sent that lipstick article, and she sent me this article, about how to buy a dictionary.
Her favorite part and mine:
Look for dirty words.
All parts of English are important, even those trouble-making words that are coarse, derogatory, or sexual. A good lexicographer will include the most common words of all kinds, including ones that can be troublesome.
If a dictionary’s editors have chosen to leave out words they consider offensive, we must also wonder what other words they have left out. What are their criteria for judging words to be offensive? Are they leaving out words that concern any religion but their own? Are they leaving out words that deal with political viewpoints they don’t support? Are they leaving out words simply because they think they’re ugly? Are they including words simply because they like them? Are they deleting insulting words for their own ethnic group and leaving in insulting words for other groups?
See? Profanity does have a noble purpose? Fuckin’ A!
***
My favorite New Yorker cartoon of the week, right here.
***
Some Mother’s Day snark for the unsentimental.
Is this the scariest ad EVER? It’s the attack of the mom clones. Not to mention the scary clothes. The outfit on Mom #1 is clearly designed for the mom you hate. Stacey and Clinton, please help. Here, from my favorite ecard site, is a collection of Mother’s Day cards you would never dare send, much as you might want to.
I’ve seen articles that say people are going to spend more on their mothers this year, and articles that say they are going to spend less. Predictably, mothers say, “Oh, don’t worry about me. I’ll sit in the dark.”
This just in: Mother's Day press release with infuriating unnecessary apostrophes: Wanted to pass along this last minute gift idea for those active mom's or for those mom's that always have sore, tired feet. Please let me know if you would like more information or need any images or product samples.
To add to the idiocy, the message text gives no clue as to what the product is. I would have to open an attachment for any more information. Not gonna do it, Matt. If for no other reason than because you're an idiot. What would your mother think?
Don’t know what to get mom? Perhaps this:
***
And finally, searches of the week.
My portrait of a xoloescuintle was very popular on Thursday. Maybe someone was passing it around? It was accessed a number of times. Also, from the same page, the photo of the pyramids and my arty farty flower shot.
I was disturbed by the search
i hate ps 166
How could anyone hate PS 166, my beloved alma mater? Now, if they knew Ethel O. Ebin, the principal when I was there, I could understand hating her, nasty old bat. I wish I had a photo of her. She had a grubby beehive hairdo that looked like it housed rodents.
Other searches this week:
Thank God I books for sale Castagnini
inside the brain of a narcissist
Narcissist Bully
negative reviews of elizabeth gilbert's eat, pray, love
gmail emails not reaching their destination
derivation of lithium name
cashmere bouquet plant
customer support gmail
outlook autofill subject line
mayeaux pronunciation
odd looking dogs
give me obama email adress and guest 2008@yahoo.com
jack kent cooke Conundrum
gmail to yahoo not getting sent
sophia needlepoint
jean fain
46/64 baby boomers magazine dallas morning news
CAROLINE HELDMAN self objectification
2008 guess book of jane in the usa @yahoo.com @gmail.com
"black and blue" dallas
intriguing
fun shit in dallas texas
"Advanced Backup Plug-In"
Menade du: "Advanced Backup PlugIn"
picture of someone eating a twinkie
knyledge Sutton
2008 email contact of directors in bangkok @gmail.com
smacking upside the head emoticon
rooting cashmere bouquet
+27+2008+2009 @yahoo.com OR @yahoo.com OR mail.com "director"
ooed and ahed
pronounce loehmann's
"an open mind" book markova
55L alpine pack = too big??
beautiful aunties with saris
That is all. Happy Friday.
Labels: advertising, blogging, books, branson, cosmetics, dillard's, economy, flotsam, google, mother's day, news, photography, public relations, shopping, texas, words
girly post
Monday, May 5, 2008
I was out and about shopping for article research on Saturday, and doing a little recon for myself. As usual, I found it a fairly annoying experience.
I had to go to Sephora and Ulta, two mega beauty stores, which just about put me into anaphylactic shock. My god, so many, many, many products for making us better than we are. What a sorry excuse for a woman I am … I use so few of these products. At Sephora, waiting for a cashier requires standing in line in a lane of impulse purchases, like the candy racks by the supermarket checkout. Except all these little doodads are expensive. The least expensive I noticed was some sort of Bliss moisturizer for $8. Everything else was $15, $20, $30. Yikes. Does everyone else in the world really have that much dough to toss around on impulse? What’s wrong with me?
However, in researching this same article, I’ve been spending some time perusing beauty blogs looking for new and interesting products. In particular, I’ve been reading BeautyAddict and actually liking it.
I was interested to note that Beauty Addict has a particular wand up her tush about Maybelline Great Lash mascara, which has long been a beauty icon. She considers it highly overrated. I’ve been using Great Lash since I was a teenager but I was willing to listen. She’s obviously given it a lot more thought that I have.
Her favorite mascara, as discussed here, is Lancome Fatale, but I’m simply not the kind of person who spends $23 on a mascara. However, I was willing to give her drugstore favorite a try. L’Oreal Voluminous costs a couple of bucks more than Great Lash. Wow. I’m sold. My puny lashes looked a hundred times fatter under the influence of Voluminous than with Great Lash. I’ve purchased my last pink and green tube. The times, they are a changing….
I got a $5 coupon from DSW as a birthday present from the company, so of course I had to pop in there to see what I could see. While I was rapidly glazing over among the rows and rows and rows of shoes, I overheard one woman saying to another, “I just want to find a pair of simple…”
I didn’t hear the rest of the sentence but knew immediately that her search was doomed. When you put “just” and “simple” in the same sentence these days, you are setting yourself up for heartbreak. It only sounds like it should be easy. It would be much easier if you said, “I’m looking for something impractical, over-the-top and crapified with too much chazzerai.” Or, “I’m looking for a pair of hot pink patent leather fake lizard sandals with five-inch heels and overly shiny gold buckles.” Those, I almost guarantee you could find. But “just” and “simple”? Good luck, lady.
This is especially true of handbags these days. My goodness, they’re crapified. As far as I’m concerned, nothing makes a purse, shoe or garment looking cheaper and cheesier than lots of big buckles and logos and danglies and snaps and zippers and what-all.
Evidently, though, that’s just me.
Finally, since I was in a mall, I decided to pop into Lenscrafters and look at glasses frames. I’ve been wearing the same glasses for at least five years and I’m ready for a change. I had a shape in mind but of course, that’s a recipe for heartbreak. (I just want a simple…)
What’s completely bumfuzzling to me is that Lenscrafters was filled with dozens and dozens and DOZENS of nearly identical frames. The shape of the moment is a sort of narrow squared shape like these, and that’s pretty much what everyone is making in various colors and fabrications. I like them, they’re cute, they look OK but honestly, couldn’t we have just a little variety? Does everyone need to be on the same bandwagon? It seems to foolish. And it’s definitely frustrating.
That is all.
I had to go to Sephora and Ulta, two mega beauty stores, which just about put me into anaphylactic shock. My god, so many, many, many products for making us better than we are. What a sorry excuse for a woman I am … I use so few of these products. At Sephora, waiting for a cashier requires standing in line in a lane of impulse purchases, like the candy racks by the supermarket checkout. Except all these little doodads are expensive. The least expensive I noticed was some sort of Bliss moisturizer for $8. Everything else was $15, $20, $30. Yikes. Does everyone else in the world really have that much dough to toss around on impulse? What’s wrong with me?
However, in researching this same article, I’ve been spending some time perusing beauty blogs looking for new and interesting products. In particular, I’ve been reading BeautyAddict and actually liking it.
I was interested to note that Beauty Addict has a particular wand up her tush about Maybelline Great Lash mascara, which has long been a beauty icon. She considers it highly overrated. I’ve been using Great Lash since I was a teenager but I was willing to listen. She’s obviously given it a lot more thought that I have.
Her favorite mascara, as discussed here, is Lancome Fatale, but I’m simply not the kind of person who spends $23 on a mascara. However, I was willing to give her drugstore favorite a try. L’Oreal Voluminous costs a couple of bucks more than Great Lash. Wow. I’m sold. My puny lashes looked a hundred times fatter under the influence of Voluminous than with Great Lash. I’ve purchased my last pink and green tube. The times, they are a changing….
I got a $5 coupon from DSW as a birthday present from the company, so of course I had to pop in there to see what I could see. While I was rapidly glazing over among the rows and rows and rows of shoes, I overheard one woman saying to another, “I just want to find a pair of simple…”
I didn’t hear the rest of the sentence but knew immediately that her search was doomed. When you put “just” and “simple” in the same sentence these days, you are setting yourself up for heartbreak. It only sounds like it should be easy. It would be much easier if you said, “I’m looking for something impractical, over-the-top and crapified with too much chazzerai.” Or, “I’m looking for a pair of hot pink patent leather fake lizard sandals with five-inch heels and overly shiny gold buckles.” Those, I almost guarantee you could find. But “just” and “simple”? Good luck, lady.
This is especially true of handbags these days. My goodness, they’re crapified. As far as I’m concerned, nothing makes a purse, shoe or garment looking cheaper and cheesier than lots of big buckles and logos and danglies and snaps and zippers and what-all.
Evidently, though, that’s just me.
Finally, since I was in a mall, I decided to pop into Lenscrafters and look at glasses frames. I’ve been wearing the same glasses for at least five years and I’m ready for a change. I had a shape in mind but of course, that’s a recipe for heartbreak. (I just want a simple…)
What’s completely bumfuzzling to me is that Lenscrafters was filled with dozens and dozens and DOZENS of nearly identical frames. The shape of the moment is a sort of narrow squared shape like these, and that’s pretty much what everyone is making in various colors and fabrications. I like them, they’re cute, they look OK but honestly, couldn’t we have just a little variety? Does everyone need to be on the same bandwagon? It seems to foolish. And it’s definitely frustrating.
That is all.
Labels: beauty, cosmetics, eyeglasses, products, purses, shoes, shopping
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