Wednesday, April 16, 2008

Don't cry at work; it's unprofessional

Hello, friends. I had a bit of a crummy day at work, so there is very little that I want to report about the day-- it was lame, despite my best pink-and-white Tretorn efforts. (But I did not cry. I am pretty good at Keeping It Together.)


Note: shoes photograph larger than they are. I assure you my feet are regularly sized.

If you need some entertainment, or just want to get to know the man behind the initials a little better, head over to GP's site-- he's finally getting around to posting an "epic" trip report of our Disneyland visit in January. About time, no?

Tuesday, April 15, 2008

Twu wuv


So, there has been this thing going around, and I want to play, too! Previous participants include the lovely Tipp, Michelle, Brandy, Brooke, and MissK, so you know this was a boat that I had to get on. If you haven't already, you definitely need to do this-- having just finished mine, I was pleasantly surprised at how much my mood had improved. So nice to remind oneself of how much there is to be thankful for, you know, in a way that does not make others want to gag or anything. Oh! And don't forget: this puppy has to be about you, not a single person you know-- no husbands, daughters, pets, or moms. The point is to write about how you define the things you love, not how they define you. (Although I suppose ultimately that is also what ends up happening. Anyway.)

I love being a girl. I love that I have the power to choose the way I want to live my life, to change my haircolor on a whim, and to constantly surprise myself and others with what I am capable of. I love not feeling guilty for loving my eyelash curler, and I love knowing how to successfully use a hammer and a level. I love Philosophy Falling In Love perfume, Ponds moisturizer, and DuWop Lip Venom. I love deciding to scrap the beauty routine on a Sunday and sit on the couch with a ponytail and sweatpants (American Apparel, if I must). I love that I have a very particular routine during which everything is scrubbed, moisturized, brushed, and treated before I can begin a normal day—it helps me get through the first part of my morning and out of the apartment at a reasonable time.

I love organization and office supplies. I love file folders, Post-Its, and Dr. Grip pens. I love the smell of a brand new notebook, waiting to be scribbled into. I love cutting and pasting, writing reminders to myself, and thinking of new ways to arrange things. I love color-coding, cross-indexing, and alphabetizing.

I love food. I love shopping for it, washing, opening, preparing, and creating new things with it. I love that the sum of a recipe is generally greater than its parts, and I love each and every part that goes into my favorite things to eat. I love cooking for myself, and for other people. I love inviting people into my home to feed and entertain them, and I love to bring food places, especially work, where I am convinced that I can continue to curry favor through cupcake-giving. I love always having a snack on hand, because you know what I am like when I don’t eat (that is to say, Crazy Lady From Hell).

I love California in the spring and fall (although I can’t really complain too much about winter and summer). I love the sense of purpose that the fall brings, even though I have been out of school for a couple years and have nothing to do with summer reading lists or new syllabi. I love transitioning from too-warm and sweaty in the summer to just right and crisp in the fall, when I can finally break out sweaters for the aesthetics as opposed to plain old need. I love changing out of those same sweaters in the spring and back to the flip-flops that await me like old friends, their quiet slapping sound following me as I walk to my car and open the sunroof, which I can do because, dammit, I live in California and it’s practically the law. I love to sing along with songs on the radio that I love to pretend were written about me. I love going to the beach before it becomes miserably hot, not to swim (heaven forbid!), but to take a book that I’ve already read and skim through its dog-eared pages while I make sure that my beach snacks are carefully guarded from scheming seagulls. I love reading, becoming so engrossed in the world created in those pages that I can tune out everything around me.

I love nights out with friends almost as much as I love to stay in on Friday nights. I love to talk too loudly because of ambient bar noise, to high-five when they play “Sweet Caroline” and “Livin’ on a Prayer,” to feel the effervescence of my gin and tonic, slightly spiked with lime. I love to wait all week just to have that “night in,” even though the previous four or five nights have also been “in.” I love to scroll through our movie selection and take 40 minutes to choose the perfect one, or cycle through the entire weeks’ episodes of Martha, just because I can.

I love sleep. I love falling asleep, and I love waking up after a full night’s sleep. I love that I rarely need my alarm clock to wake me up, and I love that I don’t have to set my alarm for a crazy-early time. I love taking up too much of the bed, kicking off covers in the middle of the night. I love my seemingly never-ending parade of pajama pants.

I love traveling and being in new places. I love to fly, I love to drive, and I love trains. I love the sense of possibility when I pull my suitcase off the baggage carousel. I love adjusting my schedule to the rhythm of being away from home, to the rhythm that places unknown possess. I love seeing and buying brands of food, clothing, and toiletries that I am completely unfamiliar with, just to make sure that I am fully experiencing everything. I love to people-watch, and to imagine the world that exists in everyone that inhabits this new, strange place.

If I had a million dollars...

...I would probably buy most of the things listed in my bi-weekly Shop It To Me email. I'd start with these...

Givenchy, courtesy of zappos.com, a steal at $333.

Then, of course, this Calvin Klein number, which is under $200!



Somehow, I can't justify spending over $100 on a top, even this cute DVF one.



I am, however, now accepting opinions on the following "sweater." Come on, it's only $40! And don't worry, I will probably wear a shirt under it.



P.S. Today my shoes are boring. But here you go, anyway. I love that my job lets me get away with these. Screw you, business casual!



Note: black flipflops + black carpet = wtf shoes

Monday, April 14, 2008

The reason I am snickering distractingly

...during GP's self-inflicted "work on my class project" time.



I am stationed on the looooove seat, drinking white wine and laughing like a crazy lady at this and this. You're welcome, internets.

Ashton Kutcher hosts SNL; or, I Wish I Could Have Kept on Forgetting


Oh, you guys. I was thinking that the Ashton Kutcher/Gnarls Barkley SNL was next weekend, so I went about my usual Sunday and up-until-now-on Monday business, ignorant of my lack of recap duties. Thanks to Tivo, however, everything is ok—I am home from work, have posted the obligatory shoe picture, have rotated all the coasters on the coffee table precisely 40 degrees clockwise, and am ready to roll! (Note: OCD tendencies exaggerated for effect)

So, Ashton Kutcher. I am not among the population of Women of a Certain Age who find him terribly dreamy; in fact, until recently, I have found him pretty annoying and basically repellent. Anyone seen Punk’d? Yeah, me too. Hated every freaking second of it. Seriously, I would rather have had bamboo shoots slid underneath my fingernails than watch his lame ass pop into the frame, screaming at some celebrity or other. Luckily, the days of both the production and airing of Punk’d (I will kindly ignore the egregious misspelling of the title, I think it’s supposed to be “hip” or something. Who knows, with the kids these days) have ceased, and Mr. Kutcher has married Demi Moore and they lead a quiet, Kabbalah-centered life in which he takes short breaks to tell Elle about the sex conversations they have with Demi’s children. Gross. And while he had his moments on That 70’s Show, I was always much more of a fan of Topher Grace and the guy who played Red, than I was of Kelso. The point here is, I am scared, terrified of what Ashton will end up doing to/on SNL. I am hoping for a Target Lady sketch, and I am afraid the days of Deep House Dish have passed (which makes me sad, because “Ooh wee, T’Shane!” had become one of the favorite catchphrases of the GP/MS household, mainly the MS part). Let’s see what you’ve got, Ashton Kutcher.

Cold open: C-SPAN upcoming programming includes “Think-Tank Nerds discuss some topic no one cares about,” followed by “questions from even nerdier audience members.” Sounds like a winner. Please let there be some Ashton Kutcher in glasses! Because you know that that means he’s a nerd. Ok, so it’s the testimony of David Petraeus, played by Will Forte. I believe the French (and my ever-profane father) would call this a “clusterfuck.” Petraeus and MCain (Darrell Hammond) talk about the “goals” that have been “met” in Iraq, and it’s more depressing than funny—especially given the actual “progress” that’s happened. Amy P. as Hillary C. lies that she opposed the war from the beginning, and even since 1970, and I cry a little inside and think of Tuzla. Oh, and for all interested parties, the Iraqi National Museum of Antiquities will remain in Iraq, not moved to Wheeling, West Virginia, where there is ample parking and an Applebee’s. Petraeus gets a little starstruck by Obama, who will be the next president (I know, right?)—Fred Armisen’s impression leaves me a little cold, because he has the cadence and everything down right, but something about the accent is off. I am as bored by this sketch as I am by regular C-SPAN.

Enter Ashton, doing some air guitar in a way that makes me want to dry-gulch him. Hard. He is wearing a scarf, and it’s his third time hosting SNL?!?! What. The. Hell. Well, I do love me some Beauty and the Geek. He’s talking about producing, and it is now my dream that Lorne Michaels comes out and gives him a wet willie. It doesn’t happen. Demi Moore shows up instead, and why isn’t she hosting? I would prefer that, I think. The writers won’t let him in—let me say again that I am in hardcore l-o-v-e with the SNL writing staff. Haha, the “joke” is that everyone hates Ashton Kutcher. That is hilarious. I fake-fake hate him, too! The funniest part of this “monologue” is when Andy Samberg asks Kenan Thompson if he has any weed (a staple of good comedy), to which Kenan responds that he might, after the “light [in the camera] goes off.” Best part, mostly because Ashton Kutcher wasn’t present—GP, who is “working” on his thesis, agrees.

There is some bullshit movie coming out with Cameron Diaz and Ashton Kutcher, which I imagine is a pure distillation of all my most-hated celebrities in film form. If only it were created by the writers of such gems as White Chicks, the Scary Movie franchise, and [Insert Random Genre Here] Movie franchise. Can you believe the same guys did all that? I mean, the “Let’s put together some marginally humorous lines from other successful movies and call it a parody! Is Carmen Electra available? Who am I kidding, she always is…” school of film writing and directing is what’s keeping our kids addicted to drugs, I’m fairly sure. (Sorry for the vitriol—my blood is just all angried up now)

The Cougar Den. Hmm, I wonder if this is where we will see Demi Moore. I will vote “yes.” There is a lot of age-inappropriate clothing, on Deirdre (Amy P.), Jacqeline (Kristen W.), and Toni (Casey W.) as they talk about seeing shitty movies with their young boyfriends, followed by “blowjoys” (“It’s certainly not a job!” Gross). Kiki DiAmore, who is fucking goddamn Cameron Diaz with her big stupid mouth and complete lack of talent shows up, wearing a curious blend of animal prints, and shaking her stupid, skinny, no-hipped ass. I scream. Seriously, you guys, I screamed in the study. It was inappropriate study behavior, but I had to do it. I need warning if she’s going to be on my television. I gather my strength to get through the rest of the sketch…Cameron D. has a Charo accent and some enormous bra inserts. The “breasts” outperform her. Girl, I have seen Charo on The Surreal Life, and you are no Charo. Charo would cuchi-cuchi you into oblivion. Also, let it be known that you can do Kegels while talking—no break necessary! I could be doing them now, you’d never know. Ashton blands around in some tennis whites and a headband…and it is an express, one-way ticket to Lametown.

May 10th, Shia LaBoeuf and My Morning Jacket. I love me some LaBoeuf, and have never heard of the band. You guys are pretty hip—what do we know about them?

Cowboy Ashton, who I would at least like to make “dance” by shooting at the ground near his feet (too mean? I submit that it is not!), brings us into a sketch where Kenan is the bouncer at a velvet-rope club that I swear is either called “Tat City” or “Fat City.” Please, please let it be Fat City! Kenan is hesitant to let Ashton (playing himself, really showing his comic range) into the club. Various lamewads are let in, and Ashton is not, despite name-dropping himself. In principle, I love this sketch. There was too much Kutcher, though.

The Andy Samberg Love Machine (here, as Clementine) brings us “Daquiri Girl,” a charming tune that has a text scroll in the foreground about how there was a major musician signed up to do a new Digital Short, and bailed. Whatever, I give “Daquiri Girl” a solid C+.

Activia Yogurt Lady (Amy P.) and Ashton Kutcher are excited to meet Jamie Lee Curtis, who is crazy about Activia yogurt. They are all very jokey about JLC keeping her top on, and I am here to tell you that we do not need to see any naked older ladies around here. Also, this is ostensibly a commercial about a yogurt that makes you poo. Neeeeext.

Gnarls Barkley. Bleep-bloop. I dig your rockabilly hair, Cee-Lo. Also, Danger Mouse on piano? Holla!

Weekend Update! Yay! Rumsfeld gave the Bush Administration a “List of Horribles,” which they have succeeded brilliantly in…accomplishing. American Airlines cancelled a shitload of flights, but luckily not the one that my friends had to be on for a wedding in OKC this weekend (that second part is not reported, however). Tips on air travel from Kristen Wiig as Judy Grimes—we learn that she is probably on some above-therapeutic level of uppers, and is also “just kidding.” It is not very funny. NYPD will be steroid testing, High School Musical 4 is in the works, and Charlton Heston is dead. Nicholas Fehn appears for some political “comedy,” which is quite reminiscent of the FREE! COMEDY! SHOWS! that happened every Monday night at a bar near the UCLA campus. The headliner was often the bang-your-head-against-a-wall, smash-your-pinky-toe-with-a-hammer, completely unfunny Godfrey. That is all you need to know.

Ashton Kutcher…giving a piggyback ride to himself, leads into the Dudes Meeting Up in a Bar For Some Domestic Beer. The jukebox plays “Amy,” they share varying degrees of humorous anecdotes, then bust out with some sweet Village People costumes when “YMCA” comes on.

A chocolate bar sneaks up on a bum who is digging through the trash, then stabs him and runs away. “Death by Chocolate.” I am…scared? Confused? Not. Laughing.

The Mellow Show
, with our host Jack Johnson (of course it is Andy Samberg, with bare feet, a douchey man-necklace, and an acoustic guitar) from the sunny shores of Oahu. Dave Matthews (Bill Heder) shows up, and they talk mellow stuff for awhile, each with a stranger speaking voice than the other. John Mayer (Ashton) arrives, and they poorly harmonize “introducing ourselves” pretty poorly. Can I please point out here that pot-smoking does not a mellow guy or gal make? Because some people do flip the hell out when they have puffed the magic dragon. Just sayin’.

More Death by Chocolate. Do. Not. Want.

More Gnarls Barkley. I am not in touch with What the Kids Like.

More Western wear from Ashton Kutcher, and we are at The Rusty Pony, which is a gross name for a strip club. The Gilded Lily, maybe? That sounds so nice and exotic and feminine! When I open the Gilded Lily, all real-friend and blog-friend lapdances will be half off—those poor girls have to make a living somehow! Drinks will be on me, though. Grown men, drinking shots of Jager? Mmm, maybe not. Oh, and also, it turns out The Rusty Pony is a. A quadriplegic young lady comes out and is assisted with her erotic dance routine—it seems opera-length gloves are hard to remove when one can’t move one’s arms or legs. Also, do strippers always do a running commentary? This does not even count as Dirty Talk. Rhinestone bustiers and a fringed jumpsuit make this sketch a candidate for the Best of the Episode.

Bearded Andy looks for his chainsaw, and we see what is hopefully the end of Death By Chocolate.

Sweet Jesus, it’s over. I’ll see you in a few weeks, where I am hoping we will get to see a redux of Even Stevens. Woo, original Disney programming!

Ordinary.



Had to get the Daily Shoe in at some point today...just plain old Converse All-Star low-tops (because what am I, 11? Seriously, I did have a sweet denim pair with the Tasmanian Devil on the side when I was about that age). A perfect Monday shoe, really, because you have to have something to build from, and when you're going to work in jeans and a North Face half-zip fleece pullover (see: Stuff White People Like), the Converse call out to you like a siren song from the closet.

Oh, and I am planning on jumping off the proverbial blogger bridge-- I'm working on a "love" list, somewhat inspired by the Converse. Other things I am loving right now include: Papaya Mango Salsa with tortilla chips from Trader Joe's, the fact that we now have a desk in our study, and that I currently have a job to which I can wear Converse, jeans, and a fleece pullover and not get fired.

What do you love today, internets?

M is for Monday, and a new meme

Well, new to me, that is... Saw this over at A Study of Schoolbooks and Shoes, and thought, Hey, I am really dragging today, but can probably manage some searches in between various Very Important Event Planning Tasks (more on this later, of course). With this in mind, I give you...

1. Go to Photobucket (don't sign in-- Flickr is also a pretty sweet picture source, which you all know because you are Masters of Technology and the Interwebs)

2. Type in your answer to the question in the "search" box

3. Use only the first page

4. Copy the html and paste for the answer.

Here goes...

1. First name?


2. Favorite color?


3. Celebrity crush?


4. Band you're listening to now?


5. Favorite movie?


6. Favorite Disney princess?


7. Favorite alcoholic beverage?


8. Dream vacation?


9. Favorite dessert?


10. What do you want to be when you grow up?

That's right, a Lady Who Sleeps on Books. Oh, and sorry about the pic quality...I am too impatient to fix them.

Finally, in Other News, I was awarded the Blog of Distinction honor by Maxie, who may or may not be my identical mind twin (we also have the distinction of owning the same pair of NY&Co black patent peep-toe flats...you know, like eleventy-billion other people who regularly shop at malls). I hereby pass this award on to...


EP of Stylish Handwriting, another brain-twin of mine, who is willing to discuss episodes of The Office at length with me. What's not to love?

MissK, who previously rated T&CT "E for Excellent" (thanks again, by the way!), the authoress of Do Your Trick, Turn on the Stars, which is another of the 20sb that I am pretty much in love with.

Chris of Surviving Myself, one of the few guys in my Google Reader, for whatever reason. Perhaps because he is funny as hell, owns a cute puppy, and has a girlfriend on whom I have a mini-crush, because she posts tons of food pictures. I owe him a "thank-you" for commenting on multiple shoe-themed posts, as well-- so, thanks!

Arielle of Good Things Come to Those Who Whine, and not just for the swell blog name. If you aren't already, you need to check her out, because she is whiny in a fun way, not a way that makes you want to pinch her.

Jamie of Oh! How Lovely, another fabulous Chicago blogger, whose dog I covet and whose city has a bounty of cupcakes that she graciously writes about-- much to the chagrin of my drool-covered laptop. Sorry for that image, y'all.