Postcards from Kate

You've got skin problems, and eHow will fix them

2011-04-14T01:51:00.002-04:00

Like everyone, when things go wrong in your life, my first thought is to turn to eHow.com to offer clarity in this mixed up world. Today, let’s learn what eHow suggests when you have discovered a skin thingy and need medical attention.

First off, you should know that eHow gives you the option of Tweeting this knowledge so you can keep your friends in the loop on your skin dramaz. Or you can send it via a Facebook message, as the most public and passive-aggressive method of letting Christy we can all see her funky forehead bumps.

The highlights: eHow teaches us what a dermatologist is, just in case you’ve always had a hankering to see one without being quite clear on what it is. For the purposes of this example, the doctor will be a man, because female doctors are called nurses. (Zing.)

EHow rates this as Difficulty: Moderate. But with a little forethought and elbow grease we can dial that difficulty level to simple and make you the pimp of pimples.

Instructions

1. Ask the doctor’s office staff about his credentials before making an appointment. Schedule an exam only if the doctor is certified by the American Board of Dermatology.

This is a great first step! Much like you’d never go to a restaurant without demanding to hear about the chef/Sandwich Artist’s childhood, don’t let that smug Dr. Zizmor uses his Rainbow of Skittle Vomit™ to his dig around your inflamed pores before first berating Tammi the receptionist for not being able to send a picture of the good doctor posing with his transcript and a newspaper with the date. If she can’t fax over the doctor’s med school transcripts, you have no choice but to drive over there yourself until she’s located his yearbooks and you’ve independently verified he was German Club president and heard a few heart-warming anecdotes about him calling spaghetti “pasketti”.

Remember: Certificates of live birth and diplomas from Arizona State don’t count.

2. Learn about your condition before meeting the doctor so you can ask informed questions and thoroughly discuss treatment options. If you have been treating your condition at home, write down the names of products used in the past along with their effect on your health.

I’m not going to lie, this is going to require you to Google Image some nasty things. You’re probably avoiding your own reflection by the time your condition has gotten doctor-worthy (thanks a lot, Obamacare!), so you may want to enlist the help of the next person who blanches at the sight of you.

This can be accomplished in several simple sub-steps. You’re minding your own pimple/rash/cyst business when an unsuspecting stranger’s monocle drops. Just remember the acronym ARG!

2a. Ask: “Would you say my face looks offensive in a small red bump way or more or a puss-filled mass way?”
2b. Refuse: to stop using the salad bar tongs to scratch.
2c. Google: Once you’ve been kicked out of the Ponderosa (fascists!) rush home and fire up the Googles.

Gather up all the infomercial skin products you’ve purchased, along with the skimask you generally wear in public these days.

3. Inquire about the doctor’s level of experience with your condition. If he lacks specialized knowledge in the necessary area, ask him to make a referral. If your dermatologist biopsies a mole and diagnosis you with skin cancer, he may refer you to an oncologist for further treatment.

We’re back with Tammi. March in that office like a boss, slam your fists down and demand answers. There’s no time for niceties! You have a skin thing, dammit! Tammi will be flattered about your attention to detail. (Note: See if Tammi is single.) Once Dr. NotGoodEnough moseys in, he’ll likewise be excited to hear you’ve made an appointment to determine if he’s worthy to look at your infection.

4. Talk to your dermatologist about prescription medication. If he prescribes a prescription cream to treat acne, for example, ask about side effects. Some oral medications for severe acne can cause dizziness or sensitivity to the sun, so it’s important to discuss your lifestyle with your doctor to determine what type of treatment is best for you.

Once the doctor has answered your riddles three and been allowed to gaze upon your blemishes, you’re going to want to get naked. Shit’s about to get real, people. Tell him all about your love of “Estty Lauder” cold cream you get in Chinatown and your penchant for scratching with salad buffet tongs. Brag about your year-round base tan and investment in the Sun Suite Tanning franchise in the strip mall. Try to get him to invest, painting it as the potential for more business.

Once it’s been determined what the hell your problem is (skin version) and the doctor has given you a prescription, you’re going to want to second-guess everything he says. Practice a disappointed, “Hmmmm, I don’t know about that. Will it make me faint if I’m exposed to sunlight?” When he – arrogantly! – dismisses your concern and makes a suspicious note on your chart, look out the window, shout out “HEAVEN FORFADE!” and swoon to the floor.

5. Ask about preparation, recovery and success rate if your condition requires surgical intervention. The doctor should inform you of all possible complications and risks involved. Dermatologists often perform small procedures in the office using local anesthetic.

Once you’ve come to, ask the doctor to give it to you straight. You know your odds: You have a skin thingy, for God’s sake. You’re wasting precious time! You’re probably not getting out without amputation. Demand surgery. Preemptively contact your parish priest, rabbi, imam (hedge your bets), next of kin and attorney. Yell, “Tell the world my story!” and change your will to note you’d like Dana Delaney to play you in the Lifetime movie. Grab the mask and knock yourself out.

6. Watch closely if your dermatologist performs a skin exam. If you have moles that have changed size or shape, the doctor may remove them in her office. She may ask you to watch particular areas of skin, so discuss with her how to spot suspicious moles.

Get the dried ice and carrot peeler and go to town. Learn too late what a freckle is. Congratulations, you don’t have any left.

7. Look at before and after pictures for your procedure. Keep in mind that everybody reacts differently to treatment and that your outcome may not resemble those in the doctor’s portfolio. Speak with the doctor about how he thinks your results will compare to those in the photos.

Get vain! It’s now safe to look in the mirror again! Force strangers to admire your variety of exciting new scars and compare them to your baby photos, which you’ll take to carrying around. Update your Facebook status with pictures. Hold your head up high and go win your job back at Ponderosa. Then file a motion to sue the doctor.

How to Throw an Adult Easter Egg Hunt with eHow

2011-04-14T01:45:00.003-04:00

Of course, you were searching for “How to Throw an Adult” and landed on this page. Then you got curious and your mind wandered to exactly what happens at an adult egg hunt. (Also, if someone ever combined the eHow of porn and the eHow of conception, Adult Egg Hunt should also be the title.) You’re a liberated, Cosmo-reading woman of the ’90s, so kick up your heels, have a drink, head to the nearest adult book shop and talk your friends into abandoning their kids. Because it’s Easter!

Don’t we all miss the Easter egg hunt? The starting line, colorful woven basket in hand, heart racing, eyeballs trying to catch a glimpse of color hidden in the landscape before us. You might be surprised to find how many of us “grown-ups” get a kick out of the traditional hunt, but leave the kiddies at home folks! This party is for the mature crowd.

Slow down there, Hemingway! Between all the heart racing and eyeball strain, you’re won’t have proper time to reflect on the childhood starting lines of yore.

Before starting in the “grown up” (read: Pornographic?) egg hunting fun, you’re obviously going to need to abandon your children. Leave them at home. Or church. Whatever, I’m not their mom. Get one of those cats that can dial 911, hurl some jellybeans in their general direction and – when their Easter bonnets obscure their peripheral vision – make a run for it with the kids’ Easter baskets.

All God’s children need to get their drank on, so eHow tells you to start with a well-stocked bar. Because if anything could add to the dignity of adults running around with baskets, drinking will do it. (Note: Public drunkenness will be added to your child abandonment police charges at the end of the day.)

Easter snacks – Uh, DOI

Dozens of plastic Easter eggs – Sexy ones, preferably

A golden egg – Consult the adult bookstore

Candy and grown up goodies to stuff the eggs with – Wink!

One large prize for the person who finds the golden egg, at the very least – Just hand out porn.

1. Set the date and send out your invitations at least a week in advance, 2-3 weeks would be better. Invitations should include the party’s date, time, your address, directions to your house or place of the party, your phone number, and a clear statement saying “leave the kiddies at home folks, this one’s for the 21 and over crowd.” You could print up a nice little invitation and fold it up to fit inside a plastic Easter egg, these should be hand delivered. Follow up with an online Evite, nice because you can set up map-quest online so guests can have another set of directions, plus Evite is set up to keep a running tally of who’s coming to the party and who’s not.

Now, I’m not one to quibble (LIE! I am one to quibble!) but is reminding people to add the time and address of the party necessary? Did the last Evite you get say:

Date and Time: THE COOL KIDS ALREADY KNOW!

Address: 418 YOUR MOM’S ASS BOULEVARD

Phone number: HOW COME I’M NOT IN YOUR PHONE, FARTBREATH?

Good move reminding people that they can’t email an actual plastic egg. And even better getting it in writing that your drunk friends should abandon their children. You’re now known in legal terms as “an accomplice.”

2. Load your plastic eggs with all kinds of funky, sexy, sweet, and grown-up treats. We all love Easter candy and the individually wrapped ones are very convenient. Think about your days as a kid, hunting for eggs. What did you like? Parachute men, mood rings, bubbles, finger puppets, yo-yo’s… a few of these things added to your loot are fun for us big kids and they’re good and cheep. Don’t forget the grown-up things; you can be as risqué as you’re comfortable with. Condoms in all kinds of varieties, the little sample sized lubricants and flavored gels, visit your local adult super store for some Easter egg sized ideas.

We’re going to pretend the loot being “cheep” is a pun and leave it at that. Concentrate on all the funky, sexy things. Now think about the toys you loved as a child. The circles do not overlap on that Venn diagram. Mull that over on your way to the local Porn Emporium (The Pornporium, off Route 9).

I’m pretty sure when Jesus was hanging on the cross, his thought was, “The pain and suffering will all be worth it in about 2,000 years when Rachel hosts her totally kick-ass Easter party with lube-filled plastic eggs. What’s lube? What’s plastic?” And then he died.

3. Decide on how many large prizes you would like to have. 1 big prize for the golden egg (my mom used to take the biggest sized plastic eggs she could find and decorate them by hot gluing on lace and fabric trim). 1 big prize for the most eggs collected. 1 consolation prize for the least eggs collected. Depending on your budget, you can do as many prize eggs as you wish. The prizes can be as simple as a big chocolate bunny (who don’t like big chocolate Easter bunnies?) To a lavishly stuffed Easter basket adding some adult store goodies with your Chocolate bunny.

The problem with calling something adult-themed is that everything that follows sounds dirty. But seriously: Golden egg, lace trim, big chocolate bunny? (And I quote “who don’t like big chocolate Easter bunnies?” Who don’t? Nobody don’t.)

Whatevs, get out your glue gun and go to town on your porn eggs, like the author’s mom used to. Don’t forget to make Kristen feel extra special for not finding many lube-eggs or next thing you know she’ll be weeping into her Easter-tini and it’ll be your 38th birthday fiasco all over again.

4. Hide your eggs. Since your crowd is a little more sophisticated then your average 3-year old, go ahead and hide those eggs in some complicated places. High in the trees, barely sticking out of perennials, behind the flower pots…

This is exactly where I would hide them for an average 3-year-old. Look alive, Kristen! On the left! No, your left. Put down our cat please. No, you can’t re-name him Mr. Meowerserton. Please stop crying.

5. Easter cocktails anyone? Set up a self-serve bar and print up a few drink recipes (an “Easter Egg” is 1 ounce blue Curacao, 1 ounce white cream de cocoa, topped with half and half served over ice – see what you can find on the internet). Add a few snacks around the bar and the place is set for the party. All you have to do is get your own self primped and ready.

Easter Egg cocktails anyone? Easter Egg cocktails everyone! Before you go have your guests half-heartedly traipsing around your house and yard, pretending they can’t see the eggs you’ve thrown into trees, you’re going to want to get them so liquored up they think they’re seeing two eggs in that tree. And before exerting themselves in the April heat, definitely pump their stomachs full of alcohol and two types of dairy products. It’ll look prettier barfed back up mixed with all the chocolate bunnies and edible panties you’re force-feeding them.

Cats can’t drink, Kristen! Go put that in the sink.

6. The actual hunt, if your guests didn’t bring Easter baskets from home, a simple plastic grocery bag will collect plenty. Even better, buy a bunch of reusable grocery bags and give them away for favors and impromptu Easter baskets for the hunt. Get your guests together and set a 20-minute time limit and release them to hunt for the Easter eggs (you’ll be laughing so hard, you won’t believe how your friends turn into such kids again). After the 20 minutes is up, gather everyone around and do an egg count. Award your big prizes and kick back and enjoy the rest of the day.

EHow, Y U first sentence in that paragraph no have grammar? While our host gasps for air and tries to articulate her thoughts better, let’s move on. Keeping the plastic bags away from Kristen’s airways and her dramatic flairs, give all your other friends souvenir grocery bags. These are the best party favors ever and you are the best hostess. You are being so green right now!

Do the mental calculations to figure how many dozens of condom eggs you’ll need to have coyly peeking out of flowerbeds to take your friends 20 full minutes to find them. Because your friends are really immature such kids again – drunk kids running around your backyard with sex toys – don’t forget to account for laughter time! Oh, there will be laughter. But somehow, it will always be preceded by mumbling you can’t quite hear. Never you mind. Just keep handing out dildos and drinks, and steering Kristen away from open flames.

After your friends have drunkenly piled in their cars, shuffling off with awkward thanks for the porn (“Get it? Playboy bunnies, like Easter bunnies? And the Rabbit vibrator? GET IT???”), after the child-endangerment police reports have all been filed and after the court dates have been set, your Easter hunt will begin: Finding the piles of vomit your friends have left behind.

More like coat of feet!

2010-04-09T22:12:00.002-04:00

Portugal's coat of arms seems to have acquired a pair of feet. I'd like you guys to meet Porty, the Lisbon 2024 Olympic mascot.

Human drama

2010-02-25T00:04:00.009-05:00

The scene:

The M15 uptown bus. 1st Ave.

The players:

Two high school age girls who look like they have annoying voices. (Fig. 1)

Fig. 1

An old lady who looks like that tiny gay man from Will and Grace. (Fig. 2)

A middle age woman who looked like Precious (based on the novel Push
by Sapphire), if Precious (based on the novel Push by Sapphire) were
old, blind, angry and possibly mentally ill. (Photo not found)

Aaaaaand scene...

Int. M15 bus - Night

Angry Precious (based on the novel Push by Sapphire) boards the bus
and staggers to the handicapped seats. The two annoying girls don't
move to give her enough room, but to their credit they do at least try
to assist her in sitting. She yells at them for their efforts.

So from a few rows away, Angry Will & Grace Lady yells at the girls to
move. They scoot down. Angry Precious (based on the novel Push by
Sapphire) continues to grumble/talk to her demons. Angry Will & Grace
Lady shakes in head in that judgmental "what is the world coming to"
way.

A few stops later Angry Precious (based on the novel Push by Sapphire)
decides to relocate - walking stick a-whacking into everyone down the
aisle. Angry Will & Grace Lady goes to be the hero and show those
whipper-snappers how it's done by standing up to help Angry Precious
(based on the novel Push by Sapphire) to her new seat.

DENIED! Angry Precious (based on the novel Push by Sapphire) bats her
down and yells at her too, then goes grumbling on her way, not even
realizing the comeuppance she served.

Half-metaphor of the day

2010-01-31T23:13:00.000-05:00

Fill in the blank:

"Blah-blah-blah_____ is like getting to go to the Grammys, only to find out your seat is behind Lady GaGa."

What year is it?

2009-11-22T23:43:00.002-05:00

Michael is looking terrib ... oh, wait, now I remember.

My audition to be Cindy Adams

2009-11-07T13:08:00.003-05:00

Best scene of the week.

Lower East Side, two cars get into a fender bender. The two drivers - both young and tough - hop out, puffing themselves up for a fight. They inspect their respective cars, see there's no damage, high five each other and drive away.

Only in New York, kids. Only in New York.

Thought of the day

2009-11-04T11:12:00.002-05:00

Your thought to ruminate on for the day: Why are there no capital numbers?

Too dumb to be handed something for free

2009-10-30T10:19:00.004-04:00

There's a new Sephora makeup store that was set to open in my neighborhood this morning. Excitedly, I hustled over, hoping to be one of the first 100 people (Ok, first 100 girls) so I could get a free gift card.

I rolled up early enough that the line was barely 20 deep and waited patiently, with visions of sugar plum colored lip gloss dancing in my head. Promptly at 9 the line started moving, and I shuffle along, following the girl in front of me ... right into Barnes & Noble.

That's right. The Sephora line - 300 people deep – was around the corner. I'd gotten into the everyday line for the bookstore.

Graphic graphics

2009-10-27T16:11:00.002-04:00

Why does "Babies Making Babies" in this graphic sound ten times dirtier than "babies having babies"?

A nation ... mourns?

2009-10-25T04:45:00.001-04:00

I'd like to think this guy is too choked up by the Stephen Hawking death rumor that he can't even make full sentences.

Dead Kennedys

2009-08-29T20:11:00.007-04:00

Thoughts from Ted Kennedy's funeral:
• Bill Clinton is now magenta apparently? Is someone on top of this?

• Also, do you think he got handsy during the kiss of peace? (Answer, yes. As a friend said: He's aiming for kiss of piece. And this led to 20 minutes of Catholic sex puns.)

• Uh, there sure are a lot of Kennedys left. For a family with a knack for dying, someone has made sure to manufacture plenty of spares.

• And the orthodontia bills! My God, those chompers. You've got competition, Biden.

• The men seem more handsome than the women are pretty. "Square-jawed" is not a complimentary term for a lady.

• I don't know this kid, but keep an eye on him. He'll be trouble. And kudos, kid, to whoever set you up with this photo-op idea. You got yourself into the New York Times.

• A lot of the eulogies seem to focus on the lesser-known Kennedy tragedies: A kid with a fake leg who's slow at sledding; a kid with asthma. Truly these are the worst times this family has endured.

• The son who told of his dad helping him get up the hill to sled – yes you can climb this hill and face the challenges of life! – made me teary, yes, but as a friend and I discussed: A hill metaphor, really? Is this the relative of some of our nation's greatest leaders or 8th-grade me writing inspirational poetry? As my friend said, "I feel like I could be holding on to you with one hand while you're dangling from a cliff and if I said, 'Hang on! I won't let you die!' I'd still have to add, 'Ugh, that was cheesy.' "

• Hey lookit! It's Yo yo Ma! (A chellist so nice they named him twice.) Bringing the tally up to 547 white people, two Obamas and one Asian.

Yeeeaah, I meant to say "brute bump bump bump butt"

2009-08-04T17:57:00.005-04:00

Somehow I'd lived all these years without knowing the corporate joy of working with dictation software. (I hate to name names but let's just say it rhymes with "Mac Speech Dictate.") Trust me when i say I was enunciating.

And how'd things go? A little something like this.

I said:

Hello, I'm not sure if this dictation is working or not. The words aren't appearing on the screen. Hello, I'm not sure if this is working or not, but I would like words to appear on the screen please. Please. PLEASE! Please, please, please, please. I'm worried now because please is an easy word. An EASY word.

What the machine wrote was:

Hello I'm not sure depletion is working or not at the words to appear in the screenplay hell I'm not sure if this nation is working or not but I would like some words to appear on the screen needs plea plea USENET believes to be for Lee believes leave believes he easily worried if and eat EA is if it is an EEG word if an easy word

I don't know what this was:

If I worked in worked is that if worked a day or way old lady old he
only with a don't lay I know I can say is and I just saved my and make
her I am I just stayed out of just a just staying gestating A.D.

Finally, this is the alphabet as the software heard it:

ABCDE and GHIJK era (and no PE you are asked TUV W. at why is the lets
try that again a PC the 80 GHIJK and Amanda PQFT you see preview at
line and see what you

Then I tried to make it type burp, because that's what you do when you're 11 and someone hands you a new robot toy to play with:

Brooke bunt brute bump bump bump butt, but but bump

This is all cut and pasted exactly as it came out. I'd still be saying "burp" over and over into a microphone but the cleaning lady walked in. You'd think things couldn't get more awesome, but oh they can. I emailed the text to myself and the targeted gmail ad for this gobbledygook text was:

It's Biden time!

2009-07-30T20:01:00.006-04:00

I'm going to admit it: I straight up love Joe Biden.

You just know he sauntered down to today's beerfest all casual-like and popped his head into the yard all, "Oh hey, guys. Thought I saw you from my window while I was reading about health-care refor- oh, wait... today's beer day?

Sure, sure, I could stay for just one. What's that? You already each have a red, white or blue beer picked? No worries, Joey B travels with his own cooler of Silver Bullet. Silver for the stars on the American flag. Can we all just do a little scooty-scoo down there? Reminds me of my Amtrak days. I'd always try to get the window seat and have to get past the people in the aisles. Tricky little train dance. If you're in the aisle seat the trick is to pretend you're asleep and hope they go down to the next car. It's a long way to Delaware.

Thanks for moving down, Gates, I'll just sit right here. I won't stay long, just one drink. How you doin', Crowely? Different to be invited into a house and not be bustin' down doors, am i right? Boy do I feel like the black sheep of this group. Oh boy, probably shouldn't have said that. Have you always had that cane, Gates?

Drink up! Taste of the Rockies! It's Biden time!"

Kate reviews movies she hasn't seen yet

2009-07-21T16:40:00.007-04:00

Here's The Ugly Truth as I understand it from the movie poster:

After a lifetime of suffering from heart-of-the-groin disease (Latin: viscus via penileus) a man plans to undergo a risky penis-transplant operation. He meets a woman he's attracted to, not realizing that "she's" really a man preparing for gender-reassignment surgery. Love blossoms when she donates her penis to him. Will they get married, or will he find out...The Ugly Truth?

Coming July 24.

I have a what now?

2009-07-14T11:27:00.005-04:00

Whoops. I forgot I had a blog.

Frank McCourt is supposedly near death, (from skin cancer. The sun can be more fatal to us Irish than Guinness.) and because you turn to me first for all your Frank McCourt-related news, I thought I'd share my story of meeting him.

Like everyone in Oprah's Book Club that year, I'd wept my way through Angela's Ashes, so when I heard he was coming to speak at my campus, this sophomore reporter – fresh from covering the ins and outs of the chess team (P.S. Shit got craaaazy. P.P.S. That's a lie) – lobbied hardcore to cover the event.

~~Whining like a local-car-dealer's Chanel-purse toting daughter on My Super Sweet 16~~Rationally stating my case to my editors did the trick, and I was off to the all-purpose conference room for the glamour of the evening!

Trouble brewed early in the form of shrimp salad. At the time, I'd been a vegetarian for about two years. But even when I ate meat, I couldn't bear that weird crunch of shrimp. (That and the summer I had to de-poop shrimp at a restaurant. Never forget.) I realized I couldn't eat anything in the shape of an animal, which put me in a bind with animal crackers. Regardless.

So shrimp was served. Frank dug in. How could he not? I thought, with his empty-stomach childhood. This was the man who'd stolen his teacher's apple peel after all.

Crunch. Good God, that crunch. Shrimp won't let you forget that it's shrimp-the-animal. It doesn't have the courtesy of ham. It's so hard like harder than celery. My teeth wanted to stop at the first resistance, but I chewed up bite after grim and grusome bite. They landed in my stomach almost intact, which my stomach was none too keen about. I'm probably going to see these almost-whole shrimp again in a few hours, I thought as we talked about the book.

I asked him to sign my copy of 'Tis.

"Where's your copy of Angela's Ashes?" he wants to know, reverting to his teacher tone and seeking my delinquent homework.

"I leant it to a friend." I left it on the bus? The dog ate it?

"Well, tell them to get their own copy!"

We burst out laughing. I slid a shrimp under some lettuce. My stomach had its work cut out for it, but it was worth it to not insult his childhood trials by wasting food.

The waiter came to mercifully clear our dishes, and I looked at Frank's plate.

Fucker barely touched his food.

Oh, I get it ... no, wait, I'm back to not getting it

2009-05-19T17:14:00.005-04:00

Apparently this Chick Downtown thing is a clothing store and not a hookup site for transvestites. Excuse me, I need to make a few phone calls.

Even in this recession, a humble patron of the arts steps forward

2009-05-18T11:33:00.002-04:00

So I'm at a coffee shop, trying to get a table, but I'm thwarted by this woman blocking the only two free tables with a giant-ass painting. I could say the brushwork was obvious and derivative, but it really just looked like if The Scream were painted in actual blood. Another broad saddles up beside me and the two of us start conferring about how to best get to the blocked tables.

"Do you want to see it?" the woman asks us.

"Not really," the other girl mutters, for naught, as the woman has already hoisted the 6' x 8' frame above her head. "This is the artist. I just bought it. For $5,000!"

I smile the "holy hell you're proud about getting ripped off" smile.

"Is that your bag on the back table? Can I get in there please?" I say.

"And the one by the wall? Is there a way to get around to that table?" the other girl says.

"Five thousand!"

"Right, that's great, it's just..."

"Oh, right, the bag."

She leaves within the next 10 minutes, but not before telling the entire cafe about the painting and its cost. When she leaves, she abandons her half-finished coffee for the older gay guys taking her table.

"Ma'am, you forgot your coffee..." one calls after her.

"Eh, what does she care," his companion said. "She bought a painting."

"Did she say it cost $5,000?"

Frown

2009-05-14T12:57:00.004-04:00

When my parents moved into their current house, there was my room with a double bed, my brother's room with two single beds used for the guest room and my sister moved into her own apartment with her furniture. Now that the three of us are out of the house, this arrangement leaves three beds too many 360 days a year. But every year at Christmas, I have to give up my bed for my sister and her husband, because nothing punches you in the face and yells, "YOU'RE SINGLE AND UNLOVED AT THE HOLIDAYS!" than literally being kicked out of your own bed on Christmas Eve.

One of these years I'm getting off the couch and unwrapping everyone's presents.

That's generally my saddest single-girl day of the year, but today may surpass that.

I just wanted to look at pictures of cake. A friend of mine is getting married and is registered on some wedding site, which is also home to numerous pretty pictures of sweet, sweet cake. Since I'm a person who DVRs Ace of Cake (what up, Duff?), I consider myself an aficionado of cake culture, I just wanted to look at the pretty designs.

Well, that wasn't to be. I clicked on a picture and the site told me I had to not only log in, but also give them my wedding info. I got rejected from looking at pictures of cake. Rejected from cake!

I got cake blocked.

And to all a good night

2009-05-11T18:01:00.003-04:00

Because I’ve become the Eastern Seaboard black sheep of my family, I was the only one who wasn’t home to fete Mom yesterday. This is apparently what I was missing:

ME: (On the phone with my sister) What are you guys doing today?

SISTER: Mom wanted to watch Atonement, so we’re just about to put that in.

ME: Aw, no, I saw it. Tell Mom it’s pretty sad. OH MY GOD! NO, WAIT! Tell her it centers around the c-word.

SISTER: What? The c-word?

ME: I’m not even joking.

MOM (in the background): What’s the c-word?

SISTER: C-u-n-t.

MOM: What’s that? (Pause) Oh! Oh. Oh no.

BROTHER: (Deadpan) I’m still not following.

DAD: (Hoot of laughter)

ME: Annie, did we just expose Mom to the c-word on Mother’s Day?

SISTER: I’m pretty sure we did.

ME: OK! My work here is done.

AFTERMATH UPDATE:

I called today to see how it all went down.

MOM: Oh, we put it in and I remembered I’d seen it on TV before. It was too sad so we turned it off.

ME: It’s never been on TV before, Mom. You can admit why you turned it off.

This woman also panicked when she pushed on the pull door and thought we were locked in

2009-04-15T14:51:00.005-04:00

We're rounding the bend on April, and this sentence I said to a woman recently is still the best thing I've said all year. Possibly in my life:

"Sorry, ma'am, I'm not sure if it's affecting your vision or not, but your glasses are actually on upside down."

This is gonna be the best Mother's Day ever!

2009-04-13T15:20:00.004-04:00

Kids, go get mama's stilettos. We're goin' clubbin'.

(I found this postcard on the street today. I'm getting it framed.)

The butterfly effect

2009-04-03T13:08:00.002-04:00

In 1996, a Canadian high school student participates in an Austrian exchange-student program.

He befriends a young Austrian.

13 years later, that Austrian comes to New York to study at a music school.

His dorm has no sheets available the first night, so he bunks with the Canadian.

The next morning the Canadian and the Austrian go buy sheets at Bed, Bath & Beyond.

The Canadian is 20 minutes late for work.

Kate, without office keys, can’t get in.

The boss is mad.

Kate gets to have her own set of keys made.

That night, Kate realizes she locked herself out of her apartment.

She calls a locksmith.

On the phone, they tell her it will be $45.

They can’t open the front door. The locksmith is miffed and confused Kate doesn’t have keys to the front door.

Poor Segundo, the 4' 11" basement-dwelling super, is summoned to unlock the front door.

Once he’s inside, the locksmith’s price jumps to $45 for just showing up plus $89 to actually unlock the apartment door.

There is yelling. The locksmith storms out.

Thanks to her first day with office keys, Kate actually has a place to sleep while she waits for her roommate to come back from
California.

Tweet tweet!

2009-03-27T10:45:00.004-04:00

Self pimping

Anyone and everyone on Twitter, please follow me at TweetAMovie. (Twitter.com/TweetAMovie) I'm helping my boss with the bit-off-a-lot task of writing a screenplay 140 characters at a time.

Here's what we've got so far. (Click to enlarge.)

Close enough

2009-03-23T12:33:00.003-04:00

Kim Kardashian's two sisters look like two prototypes built before the blow-up doll manufacturers were satisfied.

Executive 1: Too Sasquatch, too rodent, just...right? Eh, close enough.

Executive 2: We can just throw the other two in the pile in the back with Nicky Hilton and Haylie Duff.

Happy St. Stereotypes Day, everyone!

2009-03-16T17:54:00.004-04:00

St. Patrick’s Day is the perfect day to commit a crime. The parade is literally two solid hours of marching (drunk), smiling (drunk), tuba-playing (drunk) Irish policemen. “Who’s guarding the city?” I ask every year.

If you thought the above paragraph was even faintly amusing – or even recognized it as a joke – you’re one step ahead of my date last Thursday night, who just sipped his beer dully and responded, “I think the police force is more diverse than you realize.”

And I did not throw a drink in his face for being stupid. Just like St. Patrick would have wanted.

After that false start to festivities, the holiday came early this year in the form of a Saturday night pub crawl in lower Manhattan.

At one point in the evening, some friends and I were waiting outside for a friend to tap out when we realized that on either side of us, magic was happening. A fight. And a girl puking.

Without a word, everyone’s cameras instantly came out. The guy in the group with a podcast brought out his Flip camera and started a video introduction while ducking behind a car like he was a reporter in Baghdad.

Here’s my winning St. Patrick’s Day scavenger hunt checklist. One point for each stereotype that I actually spotted:
Green beer

Guy drinking Heineken because of the green bottle, even though it’s Dutch

Girl physically supported by her boyfriend while she pukes the green beer

Guy who’s officially part of your pub crawl group who disappears after the first bar

A street brawl where the guys are named Mikey and Dan, but they just call each other “bro” repeatedly before coming to blows

A freckled girl with eyebrows plucked too thin who earnestly tries to separate them

The guy wearing a green sport coat like he won the Masters who eventually takes over the refereeing

Even though we’re in Lower Manhattan, they have wicked heavy Boston accents

U2 cover band called – of course – 2U, which the poster billed as “the second-best U2 cover band on the East Coast.”

“The Edge” calling out for a shot of Jameson from on stage, along with a tall glass of water

“The Edge” reminding everyone the importance of staying hydrated

Someone who takes it upon himself to wear an old-fashioned Irish hat

Guy in kilt

Random girl crying (x2)

Two dazed girls plopped down on the curb

Dude in an “Erin go braless” T-shirt

A (lost?) Asian wandering around

Someone who feels the need to enlighten everyone that this is “nothing like the real Ireland”

Irish roommate who has one of her five siblings fly over from Dublin only to get in a 3 a.m. fight with her

Oh I'm sorry, are we boring you, Joe Biden?

2009-02-25T14:20:00.009-05:00

Let's review. What did we learn during the Address to the Nation or whatever the non-State of the Union was called. (Change!)

Now we know that ol' hairplugs-and-Chicklet-chompers Joe is wont to nod off when Obama isn't instructing people to clap for him directly. And we learned that Nancy Pelosi is an applause slut who'll apparently just hop to her feet gleefully for anything Obama says.

But the big star of last night came after Obama's part.

America, meet Bobby Jindal, your twing-twanging Bollywood Cajun. He's just a good ol' Southern boy who loves gator wrasslin', boot scootin', and not protecting us from volcanoes. (The fuck?)

(I have a friend who - as a kid - was playing in a friend's yard and the friend's mom yelled out the door, "Get in here! We're havin' meatpies!" Without missing a beat, another friend turned to the kid and goes, "Someone has a new nickname." And the kid answered to Meatpie ever since. I'm calling Bobby Jindal "Meatpie" from now on.)

Don't worry, rednecks, he's not a foreigner, he's just tan from all that good American sunshine. Vitamin D, yo! And if you say it with his Southern accent "Jindal" now sounds like the hickest name ever. (Try it out: "Bobby Jindal! Get yer butt in here! We're havin' meatpies!")

When was the last time the nation rose up as one to think the same thought at the same time? Probably when we all decided we all disliked Bin Laden, right? How do we explain the national consensus that Meatpie Jindal is Kenneth the page from 30 Rock?

And never has Chris Matthews' potato head summed up the feeling of a nation when his open mic caught him muttering "Oh God" as Jindal strode out for his response.

Is it his wide-eyed wonder about the world? The slow enunciation that made us all feel like he was teaching us how to make turkey pictures out of our handprints? Who's to say. All I know is I went to make the comment on a blog and found 50 people had beaten me to it.

Here's a quick roundup of the best (non-Kenneth) reactions I found:

* If I closed my eyes, I would swear Smokey the Bear is giving this response

* Bedtime stories with Bobby

* All I can think of when I see his face is "I'm Casey Kasem counting down the Top 40 songs in the USA, and now, our long distance dedication. It comes from Suzie and she writes, "Dear Casey, could you please play 'Somewhere Out There'?"

* It's like watching a Gomer Pyle cameo in Slumdog Millionaire

* He must not have received his 'extras' check from Slumdog Millionaire yet

* By the way, that is how people talk to 9-year-olds when they aren't used to talking to 9-year-olds. It drives 9-year-olds crazy.

* Also, I'm pretty sure Bobby Jindal is a Muppet.

Jindal/Palin 2012!

Great moments in old people

2009-02-09T11:31:00.006-05:00

They shuffle slowly among us, making us late, tripping us with their walkers and guilting us into giving up subway seats, but what do we really know about old people?

I don't know much because I prefer to stay out of earshot of the death rattle. (Note to future grandkids: Come visit! Why don't you stay awhile! Nana'll bake you cookies!)

I've started to rethink my avoidance of The Olds after my dad told me last week that he was doing a story about seniors in a nursing home being introduced to Wii games like bowling to help keep them active. The workers wrote "WII" in 72-point font and all the old people came down to hear the lecture about World War II.

Most adorable story ever (where the punchline was WWII).

I thought it couldn't be topped, but the old man and woman on my bus this morning may have won the championship belt.

The woman started off strong, asking if the greyhound saw his shadow last week.

The old man countered with his excitement about the merits of TD Bank. "It's got the penny machine! It's got Regis Philbin!"
To which the old woman replied: "You know you can deposit all change, not just pennies?"
Old man: "I did not know that."

But then the woman won the day with her movie analysis:

Old man: Have you seen the new Batman?
Old woman: No, I've only seen the very first episode (Ed note: First movie in the series?)
OM: Ah, yes, was it one with Val Kilmer?
OW: No, it was, ahhhh...
OM: George Clooney?
OW: No, no, no.
OM: Do you remember the gentleman's name who played Batman?
OW: Bruce Wayne

Also, reporter? Thanks for clarifying that MySpace is "on the Internet"

2009-02-07T13:58:00.004-05:00

Ok, this obit is very, very tragic until you get to the last line.

The people gathered at Johnson's mother's house Friday declined immediate comment about her death.On her MySpace page on the Internet, Johnson says that she is a "determined young women (sic) who is always struggling to survive. I believe in success and It should be everyones number one priority."

She listed as her occupation a disparaging phrase about police.

All aboard for the magic umbrella hour!

2009-02-03T13:27:00.006-05:00

I've wanted one of those cool clear umbrellas for quite some time now, until I saw this broad in the Totes ad looking like she hosted an English kids' show in the '80 and I rethought my decision. That clears that up. Get it, get it, DOYOUGETIT?!?!?

Clear.

OK, just one more post, then I'll shut up about Obama. (P.S. That was a lie.)

2009-01-26T14:12:00.010-05:00

What have you been doing with yourself in the post-election emotional crash? Buying commemorative plates and then shaking your head proudly at our new president's "kind eyes" and your own cleverness for somehow scoring this 24-carat-plated masterpiece? Me too. Of course you have. It's the American way. Soon enough the nation's curios will be stuffed silly with these heirlooms.

When you're done insuring your children's retirements with these masterpieces, may I kindly suggest you buy yourself one of these posters? It's from this infinitely clever and talented Brooklyn (where else?) artist Patrick Moberg.

Let's hope it up, y'all.

2009-01-22T20:52:00.011-05:00

Last year about this time I worked with the Obama campaign in Harlem, registering voters, getting the word out, confounding people by my not being there for Hillary. So Tuesday I went back. I just wanted to share a few of my inauguration pictures from Harlem.

(And yes, my favorite moment was when Obama paused when John Roberts tripped him up and the man behind me yelled, "Take yo' time, playa!")

Obama poster Bloutout™

2009-01-17T18:03:00.013-05:00

Feeling a wee bit too productive at work because of the inauguration coming atcha? Have an excess of Hope and Change to burn off as we bid Bush ado? Have you met: Obaniconme?

Not since the great personalized M&M debacle have I wasted this much time customizing something for friends and family.

Let's meet Kate's supporting players!

The Kosher Cupcake I used to babysit.

Here she is testing out my glasses.

KC and another baby friend enjoying a snack.

My brother modeling his second-favorite Christmas present after the blanket "so soft it makes me wish I had polio."

My mom, looking like a dame from a noir film.

My dad, showing off my parents' comically oversized remote.

Hey, and speaking of things that are comically oversized, it's the previously discussed pink bunny pants...

...which - I wasn't exaggerating - really were big enough for my sister and me.

Oh my God! "Seniors" got lodged in my ass!

2009-01-11T13:57:00.019-05:00

Whether you somehow lit your baseball bat on fire just before the shoot or had the word "Seniors" get lodged in your ass, your senior portrait shoot can be fraught with peril.

Remember a few years ago when you passed your pictures out to everyone in the cafeteria and they were all, "OMG, your hair is so cute! And this posed representation totally captured you and your rebellious ways! I can tell just by looking at your hopeful, noble gaze into the future that you are destined for success in any field you choose."

Well, they were lying. You looked ridiculous. Thanks to the magic of Google, it can be quantified how ridiculous. Let's explore.

This handsome devil decided to tell the world he played snare drum in the school band by looking like a reject from the Electric Mayhem. (Fig. 2)

DRAMA CLUB! She's sassy and she doesn't care who knows it.

And he's... boy sassy? Auditioning for the new 90210? You know when a young model hopeful poses for a photographer and he talks her into taking her top off and she regrets it? This is the male equivalent.

Oh my God, you brought your horse.

Ever wonder what would happen if a baby fell into a well and the community didn't rally to get it out? This. He would emerge 16 years later as a fully formed adult, ready to take on the world.

This is all solid advice, and all of it's directed at him:

But Moo-oom, none of the other kids have to pose in front of the flag.

Here's some more great tips on making your portrait memorable!

That's right. Never fear. Your crossed eye can be digitally fixed. Unlike whatever is happening behind Corey.

Speaking of Corey, know what's hot, hot, hot right now? Posing on railroad tracks.

Because nothing sums up a high school senior's future quite like smiling obliviously while the 3:20 train to Real Life comes rumbling up behind you.

But I don't want to be a bunny!

2008-12-25T19:50:00.009-05:00

Like all families, mine has certain Christmas traditions we must abide by. My dad writes silly notes from Santa on our gifts, there's an all-out holy war for control of the heat and - my favorite tradition of all - we haul down my mom's kitchen crucifix to replace it with a nutcracker cookie cutter. Tis the season.

My mom is easily the most religious person I know, so it's great fun that she allows this, with the technicality that "Jesus is in our hearts" or somesuch.

With the Lord safely removed from our kitchen, we took to looking up the schedule for Christmas mass. I heard a gasp from my mom, some conferring in the kitchen with my dad, then a guffaw from my brother.

That's right. On the holiest day of the Liturgical calendar, we overslept for Holy Spirit's 9 a.m. mass and thought we could catch St. Joe's 10:30. We could have too, except that their mass was at 10. I was putting on a final coat of mascara on as the (bad?) news came in. I sat down and ate another cinnamon roll.

To put this in perspective, my mom missing Christmas mass is like John Roberts oversleeping for the first day of Supreme Court.

"Nobody get out of fancy clothes! We're taking a family picture!" Dad worked through his disappointment through photography.

Then, still basking in our reprieve from the governor, we sat down to open our gifts.

Mom got a GPS system. Know where that could have lead us to? Church.
Kevin got a nice new coat. Know where that would've looked smashing? Church.
Dad got a bottle of Jameson's. Know where that would've been happily passed in a flask? Pew three at St. Joe's.

I'd mentioned in passing to my mom that I think I'd put on a few pounds when the weather got cold. What followed was either a show of support for my comfort, or a cruel, cruel joke...

I excitedly opened the box. Pants. Pink, fuzzy pj pants. I tugged on one leg and the material kept coming, like a handkerchief up a clown's sleeve.

I would have never have been able to fit into these even the week before I birthed octuplets. My sister and I each climbed into a leg and hopped down the hall.

With that merriment behind us, we all retired for some TV watching and computer time. My mom checked CNN headlines and announced Eartha Kitt had died. Then she announced Eartha was a whore.

We all let out a collective WHAAAAAAAA? as mom nonchalantly walked into the kitchen. I never did figure out what she was talking about. Was it this passage in the story?

Offstage, however, Kitt described herself as shy and almost reclusive.

"I'm an orphan. But the public has adopted me and that has been my only family," she told the Post online.

So what did we learn about my mom this year?: She hates the Baby Jesus, thinks I'm fat and has a personal vendetta with Eartha Kitt.

Merry Christmas to all.

"Thanks for your committment to Christmas"

2008-12-09T11:35:00.009-05:00

Now this is Christmas. (Take a note, Amazon!) My friend, this gal,recently got a letter to Santa written by a young friend of her family. Yes, this is real. Yes, he's in elementary school. Yes, this is why I'd be a terrible Santa, cause if I'm getting a letter like this, I'm going to be like, "Screw it" and empty my sack of toys at this kid's house.

Dear Santa,

I think I've been a pretty good boy this year. When I've been crazy I just wanted to play with {sister}. My report card came out super! So I've been a good kid in and out of school. I only want these five gifts because when I watched Fred Claus I realized you were struggling. This is my list.

1. Guitar and guitar lessons
2. DS games like Backyard Baseball 09 and Diddy Kong racing
3. Baseball glove
4. 2nd Golden Compass book
5. iPod shuffle

Thanks for your committment to Christmas.

"Ryan Smith"

I think this lad needs to run seminars for other kids on how to construct the perfect letter to Santa. I've made him a few talking points. It's up to him to get it into PowerPoint.

1. Set expectations low. You haven't been the best kid ever, you've been "pretty good." That way when Santa goes digging into your record there are no surprises.

2. Be specific! Give examples. Were you good at school? Nice to your sister? Show him.

3. Sum up your main thesis: "I've been a good kid in and out of school."

4. It's never too late to butter up the big man. He's a busy guy. There's a recession on. Tell him you understand his plight. (4a: Watch Fred Claus for further details.)

5. Keep it short. One trick here is to ask for a number of big-ticket items to keep the numbers low while maintaining a standard of gift quality.

6. Sign off with a sincere thanks for his commitment to Christmas. It's a big undertaking every year. Show him your gratitude.

7. Sign your full name. The man knows when you're sleeping and knows when you're awake, but there's bound to be multiple kids with your first name who've made the "good" list this year.

You're making things worse, Amazon

2008-12-03T13:25:00.008-05:00

I've never been one to online shop much for the holidays, preferring to crowd surf and throw elbows. The way Jesus would want.

But this year I've tiptoed into the world of Amazon, where I've purchased a host of redacted gifts for friends and loved ones for Christmas, and one copy of Shalom Sesame (Sesame Street in Hebrew!) for a Chanukah gift for a special Kosher Cupcake I used to babysit.

Amazon is maybe less clear than one might hope on the meaning of words like Hebrew and Israel and Shalom, as evidenced by the fact that they ask me if I need it shipped in time for Christmas. Fail, Amazon. Or should I say: פייל אמזון, פייל עמזון

Unrelated, but exciting: I learned that Oscar the Grouch has a Hebrew cousin, Moishe Oofnik, translated as "Moyshe the complainer."

2008-11-12T12:43:00.006-05:00

Top: Neel Kashkari, the Interim Assistant Secretary of the Treasury for Financial Stability in the United States Department of the Treasury

Middle: A bald eagle

Bottom: Sam the Eagle

All of them enjoy: Posing in front of flags, clawing eyes out, eating fish, not being endangered, being noble and majestic.

Fun facts:

• Only Neel is actually bald

• Ben Franklin lobbied to make Neel our national bird

• Two out of three have seen Gonzo naked

• Kate is shopping around a pilot for a buddy sitcom with Neel and Sam as long-lost brothers. It's called Kash & Kari. NBC midseason replacement for Kath & Kim perhaps?

Fairly unbalanced

2008-11-11T13:47:00.013-05:00

Fox News (I'm still obsessed!) ran a piece today about the Obama family getting ready to decorate the White House and relaying what sort of food first families have enjoyed. (Chelsea liked Kraft Mac and Cheese! And Obama's little girls like ice cream.) Awwww. (Unrelated: I want to be those kids' white nanny in some sort of '80s sitcom scenario.)

But this is Fox News, so things took a turn to the predictably racist early on in the comments, with each bunker huddler frantically clacking their fingers over the keys to get their fried-chicken jabs in first.

Hey guys, anything new in the last few days? Did I miss any history or anything? Phew.

2008-11-06T12:51:00.009-05:00

I went to NBC's Election Plaza, or Freedom Central, or The Place Where Hologram Wolf Blitzer Can't Hurt You or however they were billing it on Tuesday night. Not the McCain crowd you might expect to find in Midtown.

This was truly the most insanely happy crowd I've ever been a part of. Everyone chatted happily and cheered wildly and counted down to the California polls closing together. My favorite quote of the night was from two guys behind me. First guy: "It's like New Year's Eve!" Second guy: "Yeah, but it means something!"

I'll spare you my waxing poetic about everyone in this diverse group crying and cheering and hugging each other, but suffice to say, it was magical. Any time you high-five a stranger yelling out of his sunroof is a good day in my book.

Then! I went to Times Square, where there was literally dancing in the street. Some guy with dreadlocks started banging on a drum and everyone was jumping and singing like World War II just ended. It was like a commune of happy hippies all took E and went to a nightclub.

No one was saying Obama will necessarily be a great president, but there was such a feeling that good had won out over evil, logic defeated mudslinging and America's good name will be restored, I just hope he can be half the leader the crowd is hoping for.

Obama eve!

2008-11-04T18:09:00.003-05:00

Just a reassuring image to get you through a tense night.

Election '08: Is it too late to bring back the Whig party?

2008-11-03T12:11:00.024-05:00

This one's not trying to be funny, it's just one girl's quadrennial election-y rant.

My new obsession is the Fox News message boards. The bunker-huddlers who populate the comment section are exactly as fascinatingly grammatically incorrect, racist and conspiracy loving as you might imagine. And I. Can't. Look. Away.

Reading the comments is like a window to the mind of your ignorant relatives who may not have their facts straight, but will shout down any logic with Fox-supplied talking points. They may not know what Socialism is, but they know that dark fella is a wealth distributor. (Because, obviously people without college degrees are all very concerned about protecting their $250,000 salaries.)

It dawned on me that their blind acceptance of what they're told to believe from Karl Rove, Fox, et al. mirrors their adherence to their black-or-white worldviews on religion. There's no nuance in this, no shades of gray for people who refute statistics with "gut feelings" or anecdotes. ("I don't believe polls because me and none of my friends haven't ever been surveyed so I think the mainstream media is just twisting their facts LIKE ALWAYS." Or "McCain's gonna win cause in my whole office there's only one guy who says he's for Obama.") These things happen when you go around in circles in the same small town your whole life. It becomes a homogenous vortex.

In hindsight, "Change" is probably not the best word to throw at people scared of having the only life they can imagine altered an iota.

So, for the bored or easily amused, here's a smattering of comments from their site. On the site, a disperportionate number of them begin with "WAKE UP PEOPLE!" and tell you what Jesus would want and choose to not believe that Obama's life was in danger before they predictably devolve into threats about poop and death. First Amendment, yo!

(Click to enlarge.)

Two late contenders

2008-10-27T14:07:00.005-04:00

OK...some dark horses in the halloween costume race.

1. Crazy lady from the McCain rally who called Obama an Arab. Bonus: already have a blond bob wig I can gel up.

2. The letter G, missing from the end of all of Sarah Palin's verbs.

Topical Halloween!

2008-10-24T14:33:00.010-04:00

Please help me narrow down my Halloween choices.

+

1. The lovechild of Sarah Palin and Joe the Plumber. Ripped off suit jacket sleeves, tattoos on one arm. Sarah Palin hair and glasses. A plunger.

2. Drill, Baby, Drill. A baby with a drill. It explains itself.

3. My friend thought of it, but I want to steal it. This handsome gal, the McCain supporter too dumb to get the "B" she wrote in the mirror not backwards who claimed she got jumped by a black guy.

Further adventures in confusion

2008-10-23T11:18:00.003-04:00

Starbucks employee #1: I feel pretty, oh so pretty.

Starbucks employee #2: That song isn't from Anger Management like everyone thinks.

Kate (thinking): WTF? Who thinks that?

Starbucks employee #1: Really? I thought it was.

Reverse Bloutout

2008-10-20T11:17:00.019-04:00

I realize Bloutout is a pretty new feature for me to be changing up already, but I'm blogging about this site so you don't have to go there.

How often are you, the lowly office worker, stuck at your desk for lunch, merely subsisting on a sandwich freshly made to your specifications, or eating leftovers - the same food that was good enough for you the night before, but has turned into unpalatable gruel overnight? I know, right? Why would you do that, pauper! There's gotta be a better way!

Enter your lunchtime angel, Ivanka Trump. The "blonde" daughter of Donald "Add my name in gold letters to that building" Trump has heard your cries of anguish. While the rest of us were content to look the other way, brave Ivanka has removed the silver spoon she was currently eating with long enough to start a blog. The result is a food giveaway with the zeal of a person who just found Jesus. In partnership with ConAgra foods.

I present to you:

A Lunch Trade

Ivanka - who can now add blogger for luncheon meats to a resume already crowded with a network show, modeling career and upcoming (no lie) diamond line - is dropping science about the hardships lunch presents, for all of us.

Ok, best I can figure from the blog, this product is far superior to every other thing you could ever eat because the meat can be stored in your desk unrefrigerated for a year. Sign me up to eat that!

But don't take my word for it. Ivanka?

Or just take irrefutable scientific facts. Quantifiable measurements like coast-to-halfway-to-the-other-coast buzz.

Despite her repeated assurances throughout the posts that she wants to hear from you about your lunch break, there are under 20 comments on the entire blog. But the ones that are there are doozies. They're written in a humanoid corporate-speak style that no one has ever spoken in. Like aliens came to earth and mastered the language without getting it right. Can you imagine when you're out with your friends at the bar on Friday, they ask what you had for lunch that day, and you say:

But I think these comments of praise for Ivanka getting the word out sum up the whole venture:

And, in closing:

Joe the plumber 2012! UPDATE: With bonus grammar

2008-10-16T11:23:00.010-04:00

The media may have plunged into covering McCain and Obama fighting like Alec Baldwin and Kim Basinger over custody of Joe the Plumber last night, but they missed the real story: McCain is going to eat Obama's hindquarters! That's so in the tank for McCain of them to not warn Barry!

In my newspaper days, I spent a decent chunk of my downtime combing through the AP wire photos for the most embarrassing pictures of President Bush I could find. At Christmas, my friend/fellow prisoner R. Justin took the highlights and stuck them on the office's Christmas tree. Then I made everyone Festivus poles out of paper clips. Holidays! This picture would have been the star on top of the tree.

Hello, msnbc.com, my old friend! What belongs to the "McCains' " in that sentence? Besides America's heart, obviously.

Hey, that's better!

D'ohnuts Bloutout™!

2008-10-14T17:21:00.003-04:00

I'm pretty sure now is a great time for me to promote a Burger King website for a movie that came out last summer. Timely! Also, now is a great time to get a subprime mortgage. Nothing could possibly go wrong there!

simpsonizeme.com

We girls can do anything, right Barbie?

2008-10-13T11:53:00.001-04:00

In related news, I'd just like to tell my sister, Annie, that I looked into the 1987 disappearance of her My Little Pony named Butterscotch, and I definitely had nothing to do with it. Case closed!

I got options, personally and professionally!

2008-10-09T17:30:00.003-04:00

Imagine starting your dream job and meeting the man of your dreams on the same day! The wonderment!

Hi there, Craig's List!

Writers needed to take various ideas for movies from air to paper.Everyone will be given equity in the project and any other help i can offer right now, besides money.Risk and reward, think about it and weigh it;it makes sense because it doesnt.H20 is free but people pay $2.50 for it in a bottle.I have connections into the industry,but I want to do my own thing WITH NEW YOUNG positive energetic PEOPLE.Must be able to help get my creativeness and your colaborations onto paper.Will do any contracts or agreements, within reason, u want. I am not here to hurt anyone........lets see what happens.

Any time someone goes out of their way to specifically mention their intent to NOT hurt you, you should definitely enter into a contract with them.

And hello Miguel!

hola busco a una persona sincera y amorosapor siempre.
I LATIN,LIV IN PASSIC NEW JERSEY,I LIVE ALONE,MY MOTHER AND BROTHER LIVING APART,,,I LOOKING RELATIOSHIP FOREVER.
ESCRIBEME Y LUEGO TE ENVIARE MI FOTO OK
DEMUESTRAS AMOR,TERNURA Y SINCERIDAD EN TUS FOTOS.
MI NAME IS MIGUEL.
YOU SPEAK SPANIH?

I think the question is, my good sir: do YOU speak "spanih"?

Bloutout™!

2008-10-09T11:39:00.006-04:00

You may or may not be aware, but I'm actually not the only blog in the game. With that in mind, I'd like to start giving blog shoutouts (Bloutouts? Yes, ok, we'll go with Bloutouts™)

Allow me to introduce: sadguysontradingfloors.tumblr.com

Where else you gonna get all the innate comedy of the stock market combined with the hilarity of recession? That's what I thought.

Mother. Moose-hunter. Maverick. My God she scares me.

2008-10-03T14:09:00.008-04:00

So...Sarah Palin, huh America? She's your Crystal Pepsi Great Idea of the Year™?

She won that debate last night because she didn't strip down to a bathing suit and start twirling a baton? Even though her debate style is Mad-Libs-like in its fill-in-the-blank-with-whatever-buzzword quality? U-S-A! U-S-A! A-L-A-S-K-A!

Gwen Ifill: Governor Palin, John McCain has made domestic drilling a cornerstone of his campaign, yet that will only provide a fraction of oil needed and none of that oil will be available for 10 years. How do you account for that?

Gov. Palin: Gee shucks golly Gwen, when's the talent portion?

GI: You do realize you're in a debate, not a beauty pageant, correct?

SP: You know what? I brought my flute just in case. I'm a-gonna play you a lil' tune I play for my baby with special needs.

Launches into You're a Grand Old Flag.

GI: You still have 20 seconds governor. Care to elaborate?

Palin shoots a moose that's wandered onto the stage.

GI: Senator Biden, you have 90 seconds for a rebuttal.

Palin winks at the camera, like Bugs Bunny at the end of a cartoon.

And if you had any doubt that when she does make a full sentence, people who've been speaking English their whole lives have trouble following it, here's a good, old-fashioned sentence diagram from an interview: (Click to enlarge.)

Line forms to the left, fellas.

2008-10-03T13:19:00.006-04:00

Let's review what's going on with my face right now:

1. I'm producing medically unadvisable amounts of snot that cause me to honk loudly every few minutes into a tissue.

1a.) Therefore my undernose is red and chapped, like a sad, red Hitler moustache.

2.) I have a sty by my right eye.

3.) I have a bad mofo of a coldsore chillin' out in the bottom left corner of my mouth. My Kate emoticon looks like this now :-).
This is not herpes, as my friend pointed out. It's just one sore, so it's really just herpe. A herp, if you will.

I'd like to point out that so far not one of these ailments is a zit, which bodes well for me. Furthmore, I'd like to point out that I'm single. Somehow.

My God, look at that unbridled fury

2008-09-29T12:28:00.003-04:00

Feel their wrath!

Is this your card?

2008-09-25T15:20:00.007-04:00

There are dark, unexplainable forces at work in our world. What makes a serial killer strike? Why do innocent children get sick? Why aren't the Yankees in the playoffs?

WHAT SATANIC ABILITIES ALLOW DAVID BLAINE TO HANG UPSIDE DOWN LIKE A TREE SLOTH?

I mean, if it's not Satan himself, what force would let a man suspend himself for a Dive of Death™ with only the sturdiest harness system and specially built steel structure to save him?

My friend and I went to see David hanging around (HAHAHA!) the other night around 9 p.m. and waited to get that picture until 9:20 p.m. because DB was right-side up the entire time. He was peeing, drinking, talking to doctors and having his blood pressure taken. Trust me, I did a lot of handstands my 6th grade year and I was upside down more of the day than he was. We thought he was calling it quits, but it turns out - according to his PR guy - he never promised to hang upside down the entire time. "NAH NAH, got you on a technicality mofos!" he added. He was heard muttering "suckers" as he slunk off into the dark of night, pulling his magic cloak of secrecy around him.

Between the two of us, my friend and I have now seen him buried alive, encased in ice, standing on top of a tower and living in an underwater bubble. (Bonus points: My friend was tossed out of the ice stunt because his friend extinguished a cigarette on the ice.)

This was actually going to be my Christmas card a few years ago:

This is the human version of the view for the reindeer at the back of the pack. Hope your holidays are magic!

Hahaha, maybe they can wipe with AIG stock!

2008-09-17T19:11:00.003-04:00

Hey guys, remember when the economy collapsed like 48 hours ago and you called your mom and were all like, "See? Even if I'd gone into business instead of a creative field I'd still be in trouble." ? No, just me? That's OK because our friends at MSNBC don't seem to remember the financial crisis either.

Try to keep in mind that this is not The Onion.

Watch out, Patrick

2008-09-11T20:30:00.005-04:00

I was up last night with my litany of midnight worries when - thanks to Facebook - I actually said, "Oh shit, my cousin roundhouse kicked me last week. I really need to throw a sheep at him tomorrow."

You can't win the human race unless someone else loses

2008-08-31T12:12:00.003-04:00

I had a friend running a 10k last weekend called The Human Race.

First of all, this is the best name for a race ever. Second, The Human Race should be treated as a metaphor for life.

Via text:

Me: Go speed racer!
Him: It doesn’t start until 6 p.m., but thanks.
Me: Don’t let that stop you! You don’t wait for them to tell you when the human race starts. Life is won by those who make their own start times.
Him: You’re right. I might win if I start now.
Me: That’s the spirit!
Him: Cheating gets you ahead.
Me: That’s right. But just like life, somehow Donald Trump and a bunch of models are going to win.
Him: The finish line is gonna be pretty depressing if this is a metaphor.
Me: There are two finish lines: Victory and death.
Him: That’s a good tagline for a movie.
Me: Yes, for our upcoming rapper-turned-inner-city-teacher movie.
Him: Haha
Me: So much more inspiring than the sequel about an inter-city teacher who just has a bitch of a commute.

Long week wrap-up

2008-08-30T11:39:00.009-04:00

• This was on my Facebook page today, more than a week after the Olympics wrapped up. The only people left in Beijing now are Michael Phelps - still trying to win medals and randomly consuming 12,000 calories a day of whatever he can get his hands on - and that sad little Chinese girl that the government said was too ugly to sing in the opening ceremony. Watch out little Chinese girl! Don't let Michael eat you!

• Hmmmm... I'd stick with the yellow you were so fond of.

• This is the real Timmy from Lassie. How is he not dead? This show was on in the 1880s! They're on like their 19th Lassie. Or maybe this is Timmy's great-great-grandson, like they do with Lassies? All I really remember from the show is the way he could dismount his bike while it was still in motion, a feat I tried to re-create in my backyard with disastrous consequences.

• Obama to Biden: I'd tap that.

Is this how he won you over, Joey?

Maybe Obama is Jesus and can make infants and the handicapped walk?

2008-08-29T10:42:00.004-04:00

I got tired of being inspired and overwhelmed by Obama's amazingness last night so I switched briefly to Fox News so they could tell me how lame his historic speech really was.

Professional ridiculous person Megyn Kelly (with the ever-classy add-a-"y" spelling) was asked by Bill O’Rilley what “regular people” did all day while waiting for Obama. She said they were walking in, single file. (Presumably unlike Oprah et al who already move via solar power?)

And who are those people she cited that are walking in? That would be “the elderly, infants, people in wheelchairs.”

Think she met my wheelchair guy from Starbucks last week?

15 seconds, Fox. I watched you successfully for 15 seconds. Back to being inspired.

Who would have guessed a trained fighter would turn ... violent?

2008-08-28T15:50:00.005-04:00

I guess I'm against violence. Except when it looks like this, because this is hilarious. No, I mean tragic. Nope, back to hilarious. Violence is all he knows! You can't fault him for that. It's like teaching a bear to shoot a gun and then he shoots you because you disqualify him from the Olympics. Can you blame the bear?

Hey guys! Where are we going? Mom?

2008-08-22T18:47:00.005-04:00

Good news, Nebraskans disinclined to parent your teens!

I just learned that in Nebraska it's now legal to abandon a child as old as 19 with expanded safe haven law. I'm imagining tricking your 19-year-old into getting into the car (perhaps with the lure of ice cream?) and after a ride in the car - with him sticking his head out the window like a dog who doesn't know he's headed to the vet - plopping him on top of some Salvation Army clothes. He's sitting there, swinging his hairy legs, kicking his size 11 shoes, licking his ice cream, not a care in the world.

And oops! You forgot something in the car. Be right back, Tyler! .....screech....vrooom vroom!

Think he can find his way home? I'm just saying, if you can be tricked into being abandoned when you're old enough to vote, maybe you deserve to be abandoned.

We all just know it's because your new stepdad Bruce doesn't want you around, cramping his style.

I just want credit for the nickname Midas Phelps

2008-08-17T00:21:00.004-04:00

Michael "Midas" Phelps is very inspiring for someone who's one third human, one third dolphin and one third some sort of gorilla.

You with the leprosy? C'mere.

2008-08-14T18:29:00.003-04:00

Ok, what? This man just came into Starbucks in a motorized wheelchair and then hopped out. Now he's walking around.

Am I Jesus? Did I cure him?

I'm adding it to my résumé.

I should probably get stretching or something

2008-08-12T14:23:00.002-04:00

I have a bad case of Olympic fever.

I love the Olympics. Like Pee Wee’s Playhouse love them. I’d marry them if I could. I get weepy just thinking about all those athletes of different lands waving their flags and coming together in the spirit of unity and brotherhood and so forth. And the pomp! My God the pomp.

Unfortunately, I realize that with every passing Olympiad my dream of making the women’s gymnastics team is slipping away. Some might say that as girl a foot too tall and a decade too old, my Olympics dream set sail before I put on my leotard. Nay, I say to them. It just makes for a better Bob Costas-narrated vignette. I may not be able to uh, do the splits or a backflip (on purpose. I’m sure if I fell off something I could manage one before I hit the ground) but I have something more important than that. I have heart.

It probably says a bit about my dream that I spend more time thinking about kickass quotes for my vignette than I do sweating, but nevertheless.

Dramatically lit shot of me sitting on a balance beam, looking tough and determined in the chalky air.

Bob Costas: She wasn’t born to do this, they all said. She wasn’t born to Russian parents or sold into the sport at a young age. Yet her improbable quest for a medal has brought her halfway around the world. This is it. Her final shot.

Me: After I quit gymnastics at the age of 7 because I didn’t like having sore muscles, I never thought I’d be here today. But it’s my destiny.

Bob Costas: She’s not the most naturally gifted athlete out there, but you can tell by the look in her eyes that she wants it more than anyone. This has clearly been a dream of hers for almost a month now, since she realized the Olympics would be going on soon.

Me: I plan to win with cartwheels. I point my toes really, really well when I do them. Also handstands. I beat my cousin once so I can do them for like 6-8 seconds. In a row.

Bob Costas: She’s struggled on the international stage with her Yuchenko vault –

Me: My what now?

Bob Costas: - but she more than makes up for it with something more important: Heart.

And scene.

If that fails, I go on to Olympic plan B: Coaching swimming with my patented technique of yelling, “Go faster! Swim faster than that other swimmer!!!!!!”

Gold medal please.

I'll bet she found it!

2008-08-11T15:33:00.006-04:00

Seriously, get well lil' swimmer, then have a sit-down with CNN.com about why they're calling out your girl like that.

“Happy anniversary of the night you got punched, baby.” WITH UPDATE!

2008-07-31T10:33:00.005-04:00

I hate nature. That’s just a fact. Add to that that I’m sort of scared of Central Park and I can successfully avoid trees for weeks at a time.

Partly because the only time I’d hear about Central Park was in conjuction with “tourist mugged” or “jogger raped,” I generally refuse to step inside the park after dark.

But last night the weather was nice, the sun was just setting and I could hear a concert going on, which means there’d be lots of people around, so I decided to stop being a paranoid wimp and cross the park.

Three minutes later I was talking to a 911 operator while a young couple from Spain mopped up their blood. Apparently the guy got punched in a robbery attempt and the youths ran off into the dark. The couple started running and met up with a jogger who also didn’t have a cell phone. The trio found me a few minutes later. And if you think three frantic people running at you – one dripping with blood – isn’t jarring, well then you are braver than me. P.S. You’re definitely braver than me.

After a few minutes of trying to stop the flow of blood, about eight cop cars appeared, which is an oddly powerful feeling. I summoned an assembled fleet with a single phone call! Feel my power. Basically, I’m the world’s biggest hero is what I’m trying to tell you.

Oh, and the young couple? They got engaged about 10 minutes before the assault. Please come and spend your Euros with us, people of Europe.

UPDATE: I had to give the cops my number when I called, and a detective just called me to say they caught the guys "because of (my) quick actions." Woot! Key to the city, please!

Can I get a "what what" Jazzy Jeff?

2008-07-26T13:14:00.007-04:00

Moms. Am I right, people?

My own mother is impervious to teasing, either because it goes over her head or because she’s way, way more clever and calculating than I realized. I think we know the answer. She has a knack for responding to teasing with heartfelt sincerity. It's adorable and I love her for it.

Witness:

Me: I know I’m your favorite kid, Mom. It’s ok, you can go ahead and tell Kevin and Annie so they can adjust their lives accordingly. You have to start pitting us against each other for your love and affection like Dad does.

Her: I have always loved all my kids equally! You know that. One year at parent-teacher conferences…

And so forth. I recently realized this delightful peccadillo is not confined to my mother when I went to dinner with a friend and her mom. And this is what happened.

My friend: I have this student whose mom won’t let him participate in gym class since he scraped his knee. She wanted him to wear a helmet! Now she wants to meet with me because I gave her son a “meets expectations” instead of “exceeds expectations” on his report card.

Me: You should tell her that he’d have gotten an “exceeds expectations” if he hadn’t suffered all that brain damage from not wearing a helmet.

Her mom: OH NO! YOU CANNOT TELL THAT POOR WOMAN THAT!

Friend: Mooooom….we’re kidding.

Friend’s mom: She’ll be worried sick.

Friend: It’s a joke, mom.

Friend’s mom: You can just be very rational and tell her that while “exceeds expectations” is the ideal to shoot for, there’s nothing wrong with –

Friend (to waiter): Can we get some more bread? Thanks.

Then there was last week’s email exchange with Mum:

Hey, I remember this old story in The Onion and I thought it was funny EVEN THOUGH IT DOES NOT REMIND ME OF YOU.

Clear? OK, it's funny and I'm not teasing you, because you don't like to be teased.

http://www.theonion.com/content/node/38572

Response:

That was lol funny! I saw no similarity to you and me working out somethings on the computer when you were home, so I never would have thought you were putting me in the same class with that poor woman. God bless her daughter!

Love you
Me

Which is the total essence of the woman. The total love for me. The pitying a fictional daughter in The Onion. All the LOL funny.

I know, I hate having to go on vacation too. Boo hoo, America.

2008-07-24T14:21:00.006-04:00

Top: Msnbc.com's graphic for some sort of story about people and/or the sun feeling sad about travel.

Bottom: Calvin prepares for school picture day.

Just Twitter already Soledad

2008-07-23T13:41:00.004-04:00

When will you get past your labels for everyone, CNN? Is this racist or just non-news? Racist non-news? The headline below it was, "Blitzer eating ham in office."

Proposed rewrite: Is Soledad shopping because she's part black or because she's a woman? iReporters, send in your own shopping experiences! Let's talk!

Line of the weekend

2008-07-21T09:51:00.003-04:00

I went to my friends' improv class graduation show, which was very thumbs up. But the funniest line of the weekend came from another friend when we were out to dinner:

I pulled out an admittedly tattered napkin to fend off my summer cold's snot.

Friend: What's going on there? Have you had that since childhood? Is that your Wubby?

Man bites doughnut

2008-07-18T12:01:00.007-04:00

If you're wondering if there's a twist to story #4, no, there's not.

Hey! You're a newly thinner guy. I enjoy not counting anything, especially calories. Should I stick with my all-Fillet-o-Fish diet and this whole not-exercising thing that's going so well for me?

Uh-huh. I see. Well, I'm sort of feuding with math right now in protest of an old geometry grade. What else ya got? And please throw in a smug little quote at the end.

Well OK, that's your opinion. How about an expert. They still think we should eat more to lose weight, right? RIGHT?!?!?!

Oh man, this is changing everything I thought I knew about diets. I guess I'll just head out to train for a marathon, subsisting on only celery sticks until my heart murmur acts up. What's that, CNN legal department?

I fear for humanity. Vol. 1

2008-07-17T09:43:00.010-04:00

Craig's List missed connections. How did I not know this was a thing?

Please accompany me on the most jaw-dropping look into the sweetness and utter depravity of guys. I have to say if this is the best idea they've come up with for meeting women, my generation will never reproduce. Instead of smiling or talking you that foxy lil' gal on the subway, you ignore her and then throw a tiny sentence out to the infinite universe of cyberspace. Stellar plan. Really top notch.

This is the first of so, so many looks into whatever the hell is going on here. (Click to enlarge)

Pluses: Attention-getting headline. Girl involved would probably remember the situation described.
Minuses: She was with someone, so she's probably not trolling for a missed connection.

Pluses: Good specifics on the location
Minuses: Not many girls would appreciate being called out on having unshaved legs, or want to talk to a guy who was into that.

Pluses: She's probably not got the highest standards. She can likely be yours for the right price without getting messy feelings involved.
Minuses: It's just business, baby. You're old.

Pluses: He knows it's crazy. She's his bitch. Calls Sharlene out by name.
Minuses: Does not make sense. Calls Sharlene out by name.

Not returning reporters' calls is really the only bad thing I can remember about Sen. Helms

2008-07-15T09:54:00.001-04:00

Uhhhhhh, OK Google

2008-07-14T09:08:00.003-04:00

I think Google has a God complex. They're so quick to jump in with suggestions about how to correctly spell tricky words like Cincinnati and embarrass but now they just can't stop themselves.

Glamour says: Just jump on him! Sneaky.

2008-07-10T15:16:00.013-04:00

Hey Glamour can we chat for a sec? Thanks. I love you for hiring my favorite lady Mariane Pearl, and yet your bloggers should all be wearing Special Olympics helmets to write, lest they fall off their couches under the weight of their own ridiculousness.

And then there's this month's article featured in your Sex & Men section. (Sextion?)

When you use the word "sneaky" and "seductive" it conjures up images of a teasing flirtation tango. A Jim and Pam will-they-or-won't-they titillation. A giggling behind a fan that culminates in delicious eye contact.

Or you could be sneaky the Glamour way and just jump a bartender or announce out loud you'd like to have sex or you'll die.

What I learned about the girl sitting behind me at The Rocker

2008-07-10T09:53:00.007-04:00

Last night I got to go see a screener of The Rocker starring Rainn Wilson as a drummer kicked out of his band who joins his nephew's high school group 20 years later. Yes, I know what you're thinking and he does drum naked in one extended scene.

Verdict: Solid, but no Sarah Marshall. Rainn Wilson is good, of course, but if the movie were made five years ago, you know they would have wanted Will Ferrell.

The rest of my faves (Will Arnett! Jason Sudeikis!) were way underused. I just looked on imdb and Will Arnett isn’t even on the cast list. Weird.

But even the best story couldn’t have held the attention of the girl behind me who continued to carry on a normal-voice-level conversation with her boyfriend.

As my English friend Will once said, “My God, it’s like listening to DVD commentary as you’re in the theater.” (Only, since he’s English, he probably said “theatre”.)

Here’s what the back third of the theater learned about the girl behind me:

• She’s hungry for a cheeseburger

• And fries

• Ooh! And a vanilla shake.

• She thinks the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame is the Louvre, even with the sign saying “Rock & Roll Hall of Fame”

• She sleeps on an air mattress

• She knows all the words to the song

• And she’ll sing them

• She’s not sure what a marionette is

• She recognizes that actor

• She likes to pretend to talk like a trucker when she sees one onscreen

• She just learned the symptoms of gonorrhea

• She likes how that girl’s hair looks

• Something about that shirt/tie combo is bugging her

• Thinks when people sleep with their eyes open “that shit crazy”

• Wasn’t quite sure what the actor who spelled “t-a-i-l” spelled

• “I seen Gigi fall like that drunk before”

CNN does not rock

2008-07-09T10:42:00.002-04:00

There are at least 11 things wrong with this.

Please leave and take the two Coreys with you

2008-07-07T19:48:00.003-04:00

A vignette from last week

Me: Did you know it’s Canada Day? That’s so cute. You get a whole little day for yourselves.

Canadian friend: It sucks. Black people get a whole month.

Me: You’re too polite to take a day in February.

CF: Once you go black you never go back.

Me: Once you go Canadian, you never go gay again?

CF: Ever hear people sometimes call black people “Canadians” as code?

Me: You know, I tend to get along well with black people and I hate and stereotype
Canadians.

CF: Really?

Me:. I realized not long ago I hate everyone I know from Canada.

CF: You’re so racist.

Me: Canadians aren’t a race. They’re just the generic store brand to America’s Coca Cola and Oscar Meyer.

CF: Nice.

Me: I’ll put a boot in their ass. It’s the American way. Or, as the Canadians would say, “I’ll tap you with my loafer, if that’s not too bothersome, eh?”

But what will become of the sad housewives?

2008-07-02T09:39:00.004-04:00

Quite a while ago - before I got my current job with my Daytime Baby - I interviewed at a magazine directed at sad housewives. It’s that type of magazine that prints 50 diet tips on one page, then molten chocolate brownie recipes on the next page. They cancel each other out! I did not shout in the interview. Can’t we just print blank pages and call it a day?

Despite me not pointing that out, they still didn’t hire me. I was bummed at the time, even though it was a job I knew I’d hate. It was like a really ugly guy asking out your friend. Part of you is like, “Phew, dodged that bullet” but you’re also like “Wait, why didn’t he like me?”

Anyway, I quickly bounced back from not having to cheer up America’s sad housewives and hadn’t thought about them since. But I found out they shut down yesterday.

A pondering

2008-07-01T10:37:00.003-04:00

Is there a more existential way to spend your Saturday than at The Container Store shopping for empty boxes?

Health class dismissed

2008-06-27T09:25:00.001-04:00

The fallopian tubes and uterus look like some wonky Olympic mascot coming in for a hug.

Take on the world!

2008-06-25T15:41:00.004-04:00

Whether you're teaching middle school math or taking your religion door to door, show the world you've got it going on with a short sleeved white button-down shirt.

Because you're a man of discerning tastes you only want the best. The best TV you can get on layaway. The best entree at TGI Friday's. And the best used Honda Accord on the lot.

So why settle for anything but the best when it comes to shirts for your active lifestyle? How many times has this happened to you: You're trying to write at your desk or knock on a door to spread the Good News, but all of a sudden ... sleeves! In your way! What's a man to do, hack off the sleeves with a letter opener? You're not Larry the Cable Guy or a contestant on Survivor, are you?

Show the world you're a man of refinement with our poly-cotton blend that sure to keep you cold on cold days and warm on warm days. Act now and we'll guarantee pitstains in the first two weeks or your money back.

Short sleeve white button-down shirt! Buy yours today!

Plaid! It's gonna be huge, says Gap spokesman

2008-06-25T10:13:00.005-04:00

America has realized they're all stocked up on solid-color Ts and relaxed-fit chinos, thankyouverymuch. Unfortunately for the Gap, this is all they know how to sell.

Like a person in denial because life is just too horrible to face, the Gap has simply decided to pretend it's 1993 again and everything on the horizon is sunny. Kuwait is free, Kurt Cobain is making great tunes, seven strangers are picked to live in a house and do something besides drink in a hot tub, and - in the forefront of the national consciousness - a young Kate enters 8th grade after getting a drastic haircut.

And anyone who's anyone is rocking the plaid. Get your plaid dress today!

Quick question

2008-06-24T14:47:00.004-04:00

Which one is a guy on Match and which one is Robbie Rotten, the villain of the Swedish children's show LazyTown? I can't tell either.

Women camp out for CBS’s Early Show

2008-06-23T09:57:00.006-04:00

NEW YORK – After driving over 1,700 miles from their home in Boulder, Colo., Vicki Carter, Nancy Snodgrass and Rachel Brown spent Sunday night camped out on 59th Street to ensure they didn’t miss a moment of CBS’s The Early Show.

“We knew it would be worth it, because whatever happens on The Early Show is always buzzed about the next day,” Snodgrass, 54, said of the perennial also-ran morning program. “Harry (Smith) and Julie (Chen? Chan? Nobody even cares.) have that kind of chemistry can’t be manufactured.”

While The Today Show and Good Morning America regularly have devotees lining up in the wee morning hours for a spot on their favorite show, The Early Show generally sends interns and junior-level producers to recruit audience members. But don’t tell that to these best friends and self-described “Early Show Heads”.

“You’ve got breaking news, interviews with top celebrities, plus they always somehow get the first interview with (CBS’s) Survivor castoffs,” said Brown. “I don’t know what a 1 share is but I know great TV.” A share is the percentage of TVs in use at any given time.

Indeed, the ratings-deficient show, which has struggled to second place only twice in the past 30 years – the weeks of January 17, 1977 and December 28, 1998 – has been just as challenged to find live audience members to line the plaza outside the CBS studios next to the Apple Store.

“I was going to get an iPod for my daughter’s graduation, when a woman grabbed my hand and handed me a sign that said, ‘I (heart) Harry’ and forced me to wave it,” said German tourist Hannah Eisenbach. “It was awful. Oh, God, is she gone? Can someone call the German embassy for me?”

But the trio from Colorado has no regrets about their long road trip.

“We sang the theme song, played trivia games and glittered our signs,” said Carter. “The hours just flew by.”

After catching a few hours’ sleep in their tent, the ladies even had an exciting run-in with one of the hosts.

“I thought they were homeless,” admitted Julie Chen, “I called security but they explained to me they were apparently – what’s the word? Fans?”

Now with the addition of so-called fans, the sky’s the limit for the show that airs in the former Captain Kangaroo timeslot. The weather segment recently replaced crayons and a coloring book page with an actual map purchased on eBay. Chen and Smith have yet to be informed the cameras are plugged in, thinking they’re still practicing for their debut. The concept of ratings was recently explained to Smith via hand puppets.

As of press time, Good Morning America refused to make eye contact with the loser program, while The Today Show tripped The Early Show in the cafeteria.

Trifecta?

2008-06-23T09:08:00.006-04:00

All righty, I agree, this one is relatively minor, but nevertheless, Merriam-Webster says "counter-culture" isn't a hyphenated word. I hope this continues to be the source for all your nail-biting hyphenation news.

UPDATE: Eh, I think this counts. Partial credit at least:

Rue the day you messed with me, MSNBC.com. Go on, rue it.

2008-06-20T11:39:00.001-04:00

UPDATE: YEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSS! I win.

Frank always hated proper grammar

2008-06-20T10:58:00.003-04:00

Can I do it two days in a row? "Anymore" should be two words. Your move, MSNBC headline writer.

Marketing opportunity via gchat

2008-06-20T09:25:00.003-04:00

Me: What’s up with it, vanilla face?

Friend: Not much, strawberry face.

Me: If anything, I'm super vanilla face. I’m the color of not just vanilla but soft-serve vanilla. The super bleached-out white stuff.

Friend: Ha. I don’t think so.

Me: It’s true. I’m worshipped as an albino god in some corners of the world.

Friend: Haha.

Me: With cinnamon freckles. I will also accept being called cinnamon face.

Friend: Wow... Ben & Jerry's have got a flavour for you

Me: Yummers. freckle ice cream! It can be a charity one for a skin cancer foundation. They have one for mole awareness too. It has raisins

Friend: If I saw it at my local grocer, I would eat Cinnamon Face

Me: Totally! Who doesn't love mole raisins?

Friend: Cancerous mole raisins at that

Me: Irregular. It just gets tastier and tastier

Friend: Low fat could be benign.

Me: I realized like 70% of my recent blog posts were ice cream related

Friend: Way to go, cinnamon face. Let's get that number up to 90%

I blame Frank

2008-06-19T09:03:00.007-04:00

I'm choosing to read this as MSNBC blaming one man in particular. Good work, lil' buddy.

UPDATE: I make things happen, yo! Within seconds of me posting, here's the headline now. Check it:

Sorry about breaking into your home. But thanks for the asparagus.

2008-06-18T08:59:00.003-04:00

When my grandmother died last summer, our scattered family gathered to tell her stories and congratulate ourselves for the good fortune of having her genes. Among the many aunts, uncles and cousins (many from the last category drinking from a flask at the wake), I also met a sweet old couple.

They were both adorably gray and pocket-sized, spry and dignified and so smiley. The man had an indeterminate European accent, like Arianna Huffington (or, if you prefer, Rainier Wolfcastle). They were adorable and I just wanted to collect them and put them on a shelf.

We were introduced (I assumed my mom had caught how we were related) and started chatting. Turns out we all lived on the Upper East Side. Now, when I say I live on the Upper East Side, I mean I live in the relative ghetto. A walkup, more bars than small dogs, etc. I keeps it real. They, however, live on the UES you think of, a pre-war building near Central Park with some marble-encased lobby.

They invited me for dinner and I marveled how sophisticated and worldly we were eating organic veggies and making witty puns. The husband literally described some New Yorker cartoon, which was my second most Upper East Side moment ever (just behind having to shut my window because my neighbor was singing opera across the courtyard). Haha, look at me being so fancy! I think.

Then I make the mistake of asking how we’re related. “Your grandfather’s stepbrother George is my cousin,” the man said.

A small bell went off in my head. George? My grandfather didn’t have a stepbrother George.

“George? Your grandfather didn’t have a stepbrother George.” My mom confirmed that night.

“Then who the hell were these people? Who did they think I was?” Had I been a hostage? Was I breaking and entering?

I thought about this story yesterday out of the blue, then I read the obits last night and it turned out the woman’s brother (not George) had died this week. While it's not quite the paranormal stuff my friend and I were talking about that afternoon, it is a weird coincidence.

To this day, almost a year later, I still have no idea whose apartment I was in. They were really nice though.

It's come to my attention I'm maybe not so good at being an adult

2008-06-17T10:07:00.003-04:00

Friend (eating ice cream): I can't believe no one can stop me from eating ice cream for dinner if I want. Isn't being a grownup awesome?

Me: I know! Plus, you get to work as much as you want and nobody will stop you!

A snack, with a sidenote apology to the Jews

2008-06-11T15:43:00.003-04:00

What’s the deal with ~~airline peanuts~~ Tasti D Lite? (Or as I, and I alone, call it "Tasti D".)

It’s not ice cream or frozen yogurt, or uh, good. No, good is not an adjective I’d use to describe the stuff. Cold. Cold is the word I’d pick. I want it to be like fat-free soft serve, but it’s some sort of whipped chemical “fudge” or “marshmallow” or “raspberry” flavor.

It doesn’t actually matter if it’s good though, because your tongue goes numb from the chemicals long before you’ve finished a cup of it. I don’t know why I keep forgetting this lesson. Like a person with short-term memory issues, when the weather gets warm, I stop by to try one of their 400 rotating flavors only to pitch it halfway through when I start smelling burnt hair and tasting pennies.

As my friend Julie told me around this time last year, “It’s a lesson we all have to learn. It averages out to three tries before you realize it’s always gross.”

(Unrelated: I thought I saw Julie in Midtown the other day, so I pointed at her and said, “Hey! Ju-” before realizing it wasn’t her. So essentially I pointed at some random girl, yelled “Jew” in her face, then retreated into the crowd. I’m still awesome. This might top the baby I used to watch who called juice “ju” and she’d demand it from strangers on the street with her tiny little j’accuse finger pointing at them. Sorry, Jews of the tri-state area.)

I'm sticking to the Mr. Softy truck from now on. It warms my heart in the summer to see businessmen in suits waiting patiently while their cones are dipped in rainbow sprinkles.

Who doesn't want to look like a member of the Johnson administration?

2008-06-04T12:01:00.007-04:00

I'm trying to fight it, but it's coming to my attention that I'm the phoniest phoney that ever did phoney: I really, really want a pair of black-rimmed glasses. That's right, I want to kick it Weezer style. Or like a balding member of the Johnson administration cabinet. Or like every damn writer I know. How else are people going to know I write? Uh-huh. Gotcha.

The problem I'm running into is that I can only find the drugstore kind with sight-enhancing glass. Damn this perfect vision of mine! Damn you 20/20! Even I can't see the logic of wearing glasses that make your vision worse.

I think I need to just get a pair of joke disguise glasses and take the moustache off.

Oh really, Denise Richards, is your life complicated? IS IT?!?!?!

2008-06-02T14:36:00.006-04:00

So, uh, how was your week last week?

That sounds nice.

Me? Weeeeeeeell, not the best. I like to keep things happy here at Postcards, but last week was truly the week Jesus himself took a crap on me.

It started off with a total and complete betrayal from one of my oldest friends, which ensures we'll never speak again. There was also a small matter with a crane nearly killing me in my sleep.

My sister pointed out that bad things come in threes. I was kinda hoping that the Sex and the City movie being sold out could be my third thing, but no.

My computer, my beloved little refurbished laptop, went to that Genius Bar in the sky.

Steve at the Apple store: Uh...hmmmm...uh-huh.

Me: Oh no! Talk to me Steve; you're just making sounds.

Steve at the Apple store: Um, it's your logic board.

Me: That does not sound promising.

Steve at the Apple store: It's what we like to call a "vintage computer," which means Apple doesn't make the part anymore. So what you'll have to do is go online and research getting the proper logic board for this model, then find a repuitable person to install it prop -

Me: I'm gonna stop you right there, Steve. I'm not going to be doing any of that.

I've never been so happy to see Monday morning come so I could put last week behind me. I usually go by the rule of thumb that the worse you feel the better you should try to look. (I guess so people can say, "What a cute skirt!" instead of, "Why are your eyes all puffed shut?") I looked in my closet and didn't have anything fancy enough to fix my bleak mood.

If I did, I'd be blogging in a prom dress right now.

Don't taunt the cranes

2008-05-30T09:10:00.006-04:00

Anyone remember this post o' mine?

I was joking because hahaha there's just no way this could happen twice. HAHA! Uh, yeah, turn on MSNBC. It crashed into the luxury building next door to me. 50 feet from my front door! 50 feet! My mom in Kentucky saw my apartment from News Chopper 4.

The whole building shook with such an epic force I thought there was no way it could be anything man-made. To be every clichéd witness ever: It sounded like an earthquake. The rumbling went on for maybe 15 seconds. The sirens started almost immediately after. I wondered what the hell fault line I lived on and where my nearest emergency shelter was. Do I own gauze? Should I flee with my own canned goods? Would I be asked to give blood? I DON'T LIKE GIVING BLOOD! IT MAKES ME QUEASY! DON'T TAKE MY BLOOD!

The front of the building is sheared off. The whole street is filled with ambulances now.

And yes, I’m sort of disgusted with myself that my first response was, “I’m so filled with angst I just gotta blog about it!”

P.S. There were two cranes and it was the white one, not the red that collapsed. They better fucking take that red one down. I'll try to post pictures when I'm allowed back in my building.

Vindictive is not my color

2008-05-29T10:51:00.002-04:00

Breakups, no matter the relationship: It’s like a car accident. You’re cruising along, doing everything right, signaling properly, hands at 10 and 2, and someone who made a wrong choice slams you out of nowhere.

Yum-o!

2008-05-22T10:02:00.002-04:00

My ongoing one-sided feud with Rachel Ray continues. She’s having a ranch dressing week on her show. Ranch. Dressing. Week.

First of all: Fuck that noise. Leave the ranch alone.

Second of all, her recipes include (not making this up): Ranch mixed with salsa, ranch mixed with pesto, ranch mixed with parmesan and bacon, and ranch mixed with barbeque sauce.

Sweetie, stirring things into other things is not cooking by any stretch of the imagination. If you think it is, you’ll want to purchase my new cookbook Microwave Magic! Making Things Hot That Were Cold wherein I make things that were formerly cold into things that are now hot. Old pizza, frozen broccoli, veggie burgers. There’s nothing I can’t cook!

Oh, Rach, will your diet tips never end?

2008-05-21T09:38:00.002-04:00

I was watching Rachel Ray the other day (my babysitting family gets three channels and, sadly, RR was the least terrible option.) She's making pasta and fried mozzarella, and she was literally in the process of breading cheese when she said, "This would make a nice, light lunch."

I just needed the world to know.