Married guys:

STAY AWAY!!!*

(I don't mean stay away from my blog... if you read it, that's great. I mean stay away from me, and any other girl besides your wife. Soon, I'm going to start kicking a** and taking names. You don't want that.)

*See "I am a magnet for unavailable men" blogged in August. Yep, still applies.

Girls Just Wanna Have Fun

So, in lieu of Halloween and fun and metallic aqua eye-liner,
I dressed up as an 80s chick tonight for a party I went to...
Can I just say, I can actually feel my pores clogging with all the ultra-dynamic make-up I still haven't washed off?
For only the second time in history, I wore my inherited vintage authentic 80s python heels. And, when I say heels, I mean heels. Those puppies may not be much taller than my normal stiletto, but something about the angle of the arch or the surface area of the barely-padded toe area, or maybe the pin-sized circumference of the actual contact area of the heel, made my feet want to cry. When I took them off, I actually had charlie-horses in my feet because they were almost unable to be flat. Now, that's dedication to shoes.
All these complaints aside, I had a lot of fun, particularly making the fellas try on my fedora. I have a sneaking suspicion they loved it as well.
And, hey, a girl sometimes needs an excuse to show up somewhere in hot-pink fishnets with white bobby-socks and python pumps. She just does.
Oh, and happy Halloween. Hope you all got some treats, and for those who didn't, better luck next year.

Lars and the Real Girl Part II

Saw it. Two words: it's magical.

Lars and the Real Girl

At 7-11 today, getting the "novel writing" requisite Big Gulp, I saw this:

Okay, so I don't have any use for GQ magazine, but I swear I almost bought it. Ryan Gosling is suddenly everywhere, and can I just say that he is the sexiest man out there right now? He's giving George Clooney a run for his money as "hottest, most brooding actor according to Maigen."
This leads me to my point, albeit in a twisty, turny way: I am dying to see "Lars and the Real Girl." I think it looks so fabulous. I am sure it is warm, tender, and melancholy. No one wants to see it with me. Even my friend who loves every movie seemed really lukewarm about the idea. I think one of these vacation days, I will have to go to a matinée by myself. Doesn't bother me. I'll have Ryan to keep me warm.

To bowl or not to bowl? That is the question...

So, tonight I might be going bowling with some people. They may like me now, but things could very easily change when they get to know "Bowling Maigen, " the ugly-shoe wearing, poor sport with a potential for a future onset of foot-fungus.
In addition to the obvious affront to my sensibilities that is wearing old, gross shoes that lots of less-showered, fungus-riddled feet have been in, bowling has other less-than desirable qualities... Such as, I suck at it. I know it should be easy. I think in high school I was actually not bad. But, now, for some reason I am terrible.
There was once a bet going that if I did not bowl above a 50, I had to kiss 3 of my guy friends' naked butts. By no small miracle (a completely surprise knock-down of about 8 pins in my very last frame) I avoided that stomach-churning fate. And, the guys were like, "you are totally lucky. We would have made you do it. We've done it before." And I believe them.
For some reason, I cannot be a good loser at bowling. I get all frustrated and mad. I'm not that competitive about anything even remotely sporty (since I am not even remotely sporty), but bowling just seems so obvious. Like, I should be able to do it.
Another problem is the unavoidable loss of a pair of perfectly good socks. I just cannot bear to keep them once they have been in those two-tone shoes.

"Lost Letters to Santa" and "the running man"

Georgia's band last night rocked. In the spirit of Halloween festivities, she dressed as Marilyn, and the guys wore some sweet old-school gangster suits and fedoras. The music was great! They really are awesome.
During one particularly up-beat song, Georgia encouraged the audience to dance. At which point this guy got up...
He was so awesome! He was doing the running man, crazy disco moves, and any other hilarious dance moves her could come up with. The whole place was roaring with laughter! I literally had to look away and gasp for breath a few times! His facial expressions were the best. I wish I had a better picture. This just doesn't do him justice!

Way too much of a good thing

I have been in several ladies' rooms that feature posters on the walls like this one. We took this picture last night. Sorry for the distortion and unavoidable cropping of the pic, for those of you who are into this kind of stuff... by whom I mean gay males. Why do they place these in ladies' rooms when the obvious target audience for such a poster is gay men? Sure, I like a built, shaved-chested man in cut-off jorts (jean shorts) just as much as the next girl (read: I actually don't like that look at all), but a whole crew of them? That's not really on my to-do list.

American Gangster

So, no offense to Denzel "Gorgeous" Washington, his perfect teeth, or his lovely symmetrical face, but I don't think I recommend "American Gangster." The story was good, the acting was great, and the dingy streets of Vietnam-era Harlem were really believable. There was one scene when I was really excited he killed a guy in the middle of the day in the street... that was awesome, in a "killing a bad man in broad daylight when he gives you attitude" kind of way. But, overall, it was way too graphic. The violence was hard to watch some of the time, it was just so brutal. The naked ladies were way too naked, the sex scenes were gross, and the numerous drug-injecting/infected-drug-injection-sites shots were just way too much to handle. I think that the director meant for the movie to be so difficult to watch. It was really real. Sometimes, though, I think movies like that can be too real, if that makes sense. I just couldn't handle it.
Denzel, however, was one of the most lovable murderous drug-lords I have ever seen. He was really charismatic. You were almost cheering for the bad guy as much as the good guy (Russell Crowe, the cop-- not as lovable a character, perhaps just because of the costumer's denim choices for the man).

I should be in NYC/SLC!

I miss all my peeps in the UT! Here's a "shout out." Love you guys! (And lots of others, too, I just quit adding pics...) And, yes, that is Ryan Gosling. No, I don't know him. I just think he rounds out any group swimmingly, doesn't he? He's so pretty...

Ignorance at its finest

So, admittedly, I don't know much about Narcolepsy. I don't even think that's how you spell it. I do know it makes you fall asleep. I have a friend who has it. She said some people have it bad enough that they aren't allowed to drive...
To that I say, shouldn't having it at all prohibit you from driving? I mean, if you don't have it bad enough, isn't that just saying you fall asleep less, or not as deep? Because, by my calculations, you shouldn't be driving if you are asleep at all, even if it's only rarely or you are only taking a light cap-nap.
Umm, yeah.

Gross.

I know I shouldn't be SO disturbed, but I accidentally saw a part of "A Baby Story" on TLC, and this lady was (gag reflex) having a baby in a bathtub-type-thing. So gross. It's like something from alien. Okay, they should NEVER be allowed to show that on t.v., if only to ensure the propagation of the species. It makes girls of child-bearing age NEVER WANT that to happen to them. I only like babies when the are about 9-16 months old, and are fat cuddly and squishy and have personalities, and are too little to talk back or roll their eyes. Babies coming out, not so much.

I hate chick flicks...

As a rule, romantic comedies just aren't for me. I mean, ick! But, last night I saw "No Reservations," with Catherine Zeta-Jones and that cute guy from "Thank You for Smoking," and it was pretty good. Maybe because it dealt with a real problem (the death of Catherine's sister and 'Little Miss Sunshine's' mom), or maybe because that guy is sexy and has a nice speaking voice. Even my coveting of Catherine Zeta Jones' perfect nose and bone structure didn't hamper my enjoyment of the movie. Somehow she manages to be one of the prettiest ladies on earth without inspiring the customary rage. Anyway, the story was cute without being sickening. And I LOVE the part when she brings the raw meat to the jerky customer. Who in service has not wanted to do something like that? Genius.

I love Walter Santa "Little Jerry Seinfeld" Brigman!

This sweet little chunk of a puppy snuggled with me today, on our first "cold" day, while watching movies. He acts just like a little baby, he is the funniest dog ever! Sometimes, I just want to kidnap him from my parents!

Stars and stripes

I took this quiz, and it told me in a "non-scientific" way which candidates my opinions aligned with most. I thought I would be a Rudy or Obama follower, because I like their faces. Or Mitt, because he's mo. But, here they are, the top three:















As I thought, I'm a republican. Sorry, Sydney, Michelle, and D'Arcy (my token Democrat friends).
You can take the quiz at http://www.wqad.com/Global/link.asp?L=259460

The Nightmare Before Christmas

So, apparently, the concert on Friday night is a Halloween-themed thing. I wasn't planning on dressing up this year. I have no good ideas. I am thinking about being a viking (since I so already am), or, well... that's my only idea. Any suggestions?

"And it's funny how it switches like that" (Mugatu, "Zoolander")

So, my extreme distaste for Josh Hartnett has softened, and suddenly I find him oddly attractive. I am sure it stems from "Lucky Number Slevin" and my pure love of that movie. Each time I see him on t.v. in that stupid-vampire-movie trailer, my heart skips a beat. I think he might just be a little hottie disguised in terrible-actor's clothes.

Come on, it's lovely weather for a sleigh-ride together with you, Part the Second

Okay, so this evening it was cool. Probably 55-60 degrees. I admit I wore a light sweater to this activity I went to (sorry, I just ended that sentence with a preposition). A friend was wearing a fleece, and yeah, I didn't think he looked crazy. But, then a girl came in, looking fresh from the slopes, wearing: 1) sweatery head-wrap thing 2) thick, sweatery scarf 3) fleece-lined coat number one 4) fleece-lined ski coat number two; once more re-affirming my opinion that Texans are totally over-reacting to the lovely temperatures. Once more, I am obliged to ask, 'you know it's not winter, right?'

Fingers crossed!

So, this is for my hilarious bff, Krissy! I am posting this blog in the hopes that the gods of the internet (you know, the ones who will make you have bad luck for 8 years if you don't forward that email, or help you find your one true love if you do, but only if you send it to at least 12 people) will join forces to help Krissy come to Texas for a visit! (Look, she's already dressed for it!)

(PS: She's actually not crazy... She bought the denim, one-piece jumper so that we could make a joke music-video, she was supposed to dance to "Sexy Back" in this thing, at a waterfall, with several ridiculously good-looking men dancing with her. It was really going to be funny, and would certainly be her 15 minutes of fame on youtube. Hmm... that makes us both sound crazy. Alas, we ran out of time before I moved back to Texas, so we had to settle for a couple of hilarious photos instead! And yes, those are my hat and shoes, for those of you who know Kris and are wondering just when she got that crazy fashion sense.)

Covet

J'adore these shoes! I can't have them because they are $400. Boo. Where's my "benevolent millionaire" when I need him?

Commencement of extended vaca

So, today was the first official day of my fabulous long vacation. No, I'm not going anywhere. Instead, the docket includes:

• 10 days of Bikram yoga (where they turn up the heat to about 105 degrees and you do yoga)
• Writing in my novel(s)... Perhaps a little of both "The Anticool" and "Love Schmove: in Addition to His Major Character Flaws, He Often Had Bad Breath" (a catalogue of my dating life since age 5)
• a possible visit from my bff, Krissy, from Utah (and all the Dallas sites: Reunion Tower, Southfork Ranch, Northpark Mall)
  
• numerous bubble baths
• at least one sushi meal
• a fabulous concert by Georgia's band this Friday
• one or more Angelika movies
• trying to get Mom & Bob to take me kite-boarding
  
• rollin' with the homies
  
• at least one episode each of WNTW, Seinfeld, Law and Order, Gilmore Girls, and IASIP
  
• whatever I feel like doing, while getting paid to do it (gotta love paid vacation)!
  

I am so excited! Of course, it would be cooler to go to NYC or something, but I am trying to do "the responsible thing." Sometimes, being a grown-up sucks. But, my time off is not to have any kind of dark shadow over it because I am not off adventuring in a shopping paradise. So don't mention it again.

Come on, it's lovely weather for a sleigh-ride together with you!

(First of all, go to the bottom of the page and click "Sleigh Ride" on my playlist. You know, for the full effect!)
Okay, so with the slight temperature decrease (and might I just shout a quick "hallelujah!" to that), I am noticing ladies about town in Uggs boots (might I get no rest?), crazy woolen scarfy wrap things, coats, and sweaters.
Today I saw not one but two guys walking together in hoodie sweatshirts with the hoods up and baseball caps ("'Cause baby, I'm a thug")... Okay, this is me ignoring the fashion tragedy of that whole situation, and focusing in on the real problem: it's still like, 84 degrees. Perfect weather, really. Is it that the Texans are so used to 95-105 degree weather that they have been fooled into believing that winter is upon us? Are they really cold? If you bundle up in your house, okay. But when you go out like that, you look crazy.
I almost asked a customer today, standing at the counter with a pashmina wrapped around her neck, "you know it's not winter, right?"

Need I even say anything?

Two sure-fire ways to ward off the humans

In case you forget to wear stirrup pants, they (and when I say "they" I mean insane, no-talent designers) have an offering that allows you to look like you are wearing stirrups anyway! Because that was always such a comfortable, attractive fashion.

And, in case you were feeling too attractive one day, and were worried about your ego getting out-of-control, go ahead and throw on these metallic numbers. Even Michael Jackson (circa 1982) won't touch you with a nine-foot pole. P.S.: These are actually women's sneakers. Down with formal sneakers!

Schlachthof-funf

I just finished "Slaughterhouse Five" by Kurt Vonnegut. I loved it! The writing style was really similar to my own, so that is probably one reason to love it. (Not so much on my blog here, but if you have read my novel, "The Anticool," you would know what I mean... You know, if you have read my unfinished, unpublished novel...) Not that I am saying I am as good a writer as Vonnegut, but maybe someday.
I really recommend it to everyone. Five stars on a five star scale. It only took a few sessions, in three days to read, so it's not too much of a time commitment!

I'm levitating. I'm warm and I'm levitating.

Check out this video. It's pretty funny. The magician guy gets old, but the gay guys rock!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PGrTvNzGCZE

The dumbification of America

Since when is being dumb a good thing? I, and anyone I associate with (let's face it, if you aren't intelligent, I'm out) have worked hard to increase our knowledge, seeking out education and self-improvement in a myriad of ways. But, for some reason, the American public champions idiots, like they are some kind of heroes for the masses. Perhaps they are, I guess the masses are mostly idiots as well... But, don't we want smart people to look up to (and, really, why do we hold Hollywood stars as role-models anyway? Does anyone else think that whole racket is a joke?) instead of people who don't even act as smart as the average 5th grader?
I am sick of all the idiotic shows on television. I mean, "Dr. Steve-o?" Seriously. I'd rather stick my head in the oven. It is painful enough to have to see the commercials for that show (yeah, "Law and Order" marathon today sucked me in...). I am sick of "starlets" (behold above, the Royal Court of Dumb) who make millions of dollars a year based on, no, not talent, but the ability to shock the nation with their stupidity. Let's turn it over to the Rhodes Scholars for a while, shall we? We can all use a break from the mind-numbing numb-minds.

Sleepless in Seattle

My (lucky!) bff, Krissy, in an annoying twist of flight-cancellation fate, is stuck in Seattle until tomorrow. I'm actually jealous. I heart Seattle! Pad Thai, rain, and boutiques, oh my!

"You Kill Me"

I saw this movie about a week ago, and loved it! So funny, this hit-man gets sent to AA by "the family" after drunkenly sleeping through a job.
In AA, he's all, "I kill people, and I'm good at it. But my drinking is getting in the way. I want to get sober so I can go back to killing people," and no one even flinches. It really is hilarious.
Plus, I love the star... What's his name? I can't remember, but he is classic.

The evolution of "Day Man Ah-ah-ah!"

IASIP has outdone itself this time...
I was singing the song Charlie and Dennis wrote all day at work. It is called "Day Man." I think it is hilarious.
You can watch the evolution of the "Day Man" song. Starting with "Night Man" (which is really gross, but still funny):

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vaPI_59i3vM

"Night Man": the beginnings... My FAVORITE (really, if you only watch one of these, let this be it):

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pOwmgTvQNl0&NR=1

And finally, "Day Man" in the round:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sSMza6yWSp8

Yes, it is messed up. No, it doesn't make any sense. I love "Day Man" with all my shriveled, black little heart!

She's a maniac, maniac on the floor!

PLEASE, PLEASE go here:
http://store.americanapparel.net/women-tights--pants--leggings.html
It will change your life!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Seriously, I cannot emphasize enough the importance that EVERYONE go to this site! I guarantee results in your upper and lower abdominals. "When they say you can laugh for 20 minutes a day, 3 times a week, they mean exactly that." (See blog titled "Bad Ad" in September's archives.)
The photo above (which I titled "only $40!") is only the tip of the iceberg of disgusting, rainbow-hued spandex "pants." It's just a taste. Believe me, you need to partake of the whole enchilada!

The count-down's on, 4, 3, 2, 1

Only 6 more days of actual work left until my super-extended vaca! Unfortunately, I'm not going anywhere spectacular, but I am going to savor my time off work, in the lap of luxury. Any suggestions about what I can do, aside from write, write, write, do yoga, write, be an extra in tv shows/movies?

Gotta pay the troll...

What's the deal with the Texas Tollway system upping the tolls? Hello, it was already costing me 40 bucks a month, and now it's like every 2 1/2, 3 weeks. I'm not seein' a whole lot of improvement, so what the "h" are you doing with me money, NTTA? And don't you dare say "buying a Bentley."

Karate Kid

I have a class at the Texas Karate Institute tonight! I am so excited! Judo, chop!

Rocktoberfest cancelled. Boo.

Unfortunately, Rocktoberfest is off. A member of the headlining band, Sorta, died. Sad days.
In other news, Lost Letters to Santa is playing at The Bone (on the rooftop) in Deep Ellum this Friday night at 8. The roof is way fun, it's breezy and whimsical. The only thing that concerns me personally is the fact that it seems like the floorboards could snap at any moment, leading to my early death on the streets of Deep Ellum.
But, it should be a blast if you are able to get past your fears of dancing through the ceiling! It's like $5 to get in. See y'all there!!

1.99/item

I was at the dry cleaners, and as always, couldn't help but notice all the signs that advertise "martinizing."
What I would like to know is, who is this Martin guy and what is he doing to my clothes?

Carrie Bradshaw ain't got nothin' on me!

I want this shoe!! Or, more accurately, a pair of them.
Just how high can I go? According to a formula I found online a couple of years ago, a good 6 inches. Sounds about right. Want to know how high your heels can be without an embarrassing face-plant, or paralysis brought on by fear of heights? Check it out:
http://www.msnbc.msn.com//id/4678999/
Actually, I copied it for ya. Here you go:

Can't walk in high heels, but still a slave to fashion? A new formula devised by British physicists may be able to help you determine how high a heel you can safely handle -- before and after a few cocktails.
The formula, created by researchers at the Institute of Physics in London, is based on your shoe size and a variety of complex factors known as the "Q" factor.
Researchers claim that the formula spelled out below can tell the maximum heel height a person can handle without toppling over or suffering excessively.

h = Q•(12+3s/8)

The variables are:

h: Maximum height of the heel (in centimeters) Q: A sociological factor with a value between 0 and 1 (see below) S: Shoe size (in UK ladies' sizes)

"Although at first glance our formula looks scary," says formula creator Paul Stevenson of the University of Surrey, in a news release, "it's actually pretty simple as it's based on the science you learnt at school and which you never thought you would use in real life." By applying this formula, a person can determine just how high the heel of the foot can be lifted above the ground with out falling over.

The 'Q' factor
But the hard part was working out the elusive "Q" factor. That's the sociological part of the equation not based on the mere mechanics of the shoes.

"Essentially this part of the formula explains what women have always known -- that you don't buy shoes just because they are comfortable, you can afford them, and they look good -- many other variables come into play," says Stevenson.

Researchers defined "Q" as:

p•(y+9)•L
Q = ----------------------------------
(t+1)•(A+1)•(y+10)•(L+£20)

Within that equation, the variables are as follows:

p: The probability that wearing the shoes will help you attract a mate, or "pull" in Brit-speak (in a range from 0 to 1, where 1 is a sure draw and 0 is no chance) y: The number of years of experience the wearer has in wearing high heels. More experienced wearers can handle a higher heel, but beginners should take it easy. L: The cost of the shoes, in British pounds. The more expensive, the more likely women will put up with a higher heel. t: The time since the shoe was the height of fashion, in months (0 = it's red hot right now). If the shoes are terribly fashionable, wearers should be prepared to put up with a little pain. A: Units of alcohol consumed. The more alcohol that's consumed, the more risky wearing high heels becomes, no matter how well the martini glass goes with the shoes.

Handicapping Carrie Bradshaw's heels
Using this formula, researchers estimate that if Sex and the City's Carrie Bradshaw, who is an experienced high-heel wearer with at least five years' experience, wears her latest gorgeous designer originals when sober, she can cope with a heel height of a staggering more than 5 inches (12.5 centimeters).

But if she has one too many cosmopolitans, the "safe" heel height drops dramatically. Using the same example as above, if she consumes 6 units of alcohol she would be advised to stick to heels with a height of less than one inch (2 cm).

Laura Grant, a physicist from Liverpool University, welcomes the institute's new formula.

"Many of my physicist colleagues have no trouble understanding quantum mechanics but can't figure out how women can wear high heels. Now I can explain to them how I minimize the probability of tripping up," says Grant.

A not-so-interesting little known fact about me

Today I realized that since I lived at The Canyons in Park City, beginning in May 2005, I haven't bought bar soap. And I use it every day, along with body wash. Around that time, I had purchased a pack of Dial from Costco. That Dial, and the little mini-soaps I collected over my couple of months at The Canyons, have lasted 2 1/2 years!
I think the soaps are multiplying themselves. I had to get a new bar out today, and there are still a couple of Dials left. I have a soap-poltergeist.

Genius

Harry: When you take someone to the airport, it is clearly the beginning of the relationship. That's why I have never taken anyone to the airport at the beginning of a relationship.
Sally: Why?
Harry: Because eventually things move on and you don't take someone to the airport, and I never wanted anyone to say to me, "how come you never take me to the airport anymore?"
Sally: It's amazing, you look like a normal person; but actually, you are the angel of death.

-When Harry Met Sally

Happy Birthday to me!

Okay, so it's not my birthday, but in lieu of my Dad's and my Stepdad's birthdays this week, I thought I'd put up an almost-link to my favorite e-card ever.
With a little work, you will be greatly rewarded.
Go to
www.hallmark.com
and enter the search "nude people"
I promise, you won't be disappointed!!

GEC

Ahhhh! Refreshing.

The aftermath of a personal trainer

So, today I couldn't walk. Couldn't go up, or down, stairs. Couldn't keep my arms up long enough to wash my hair, had to keep taking breaks. I went swimming, and was afraid to dive in in case I couldn't swim, and therefore would meet my demise in a watery grave.
After Krav on Wednesday night and my personal training preview session yesterday, I am so sore that I can literally barely move. Those guys kicked my butt. Apparently, I am weak.

Lucky Shoe Guy

Just wanted to send a "shout out" (I really hate that term, but, in order to be really "hip" and "with it," I must appeal to pop culture) to the fabulous, luscious-haired out-of-stater I had the pleasure to meet through the beautiful Candice. It was fun hanging out with you, you are delightful (in a manly way), and please feel free to hire me and buy me Gucci purses as trinkets.

Sweet dreams are made of this...

Okay, so apparently my sister Meredith has been having nightmares for the past four nights. They are really bothering her. She is stressed. Her anxiety is overwhelming. They are about...
Hillary becoming President. Hillary's health care reforms, et al.
Radical, no?

PS: I remember back in the olden days when we used to joke about someday Hillary being President... like, when Bill was in and the joke was that she was the one that wore the pants... I miss those days.

Krav Maga

So, as part of this little experiment in gym-finding, Mere had me go to Krav Maga class last night. (David, I think this would be one you would frown upon. If I enroll, I will be able to beat up, well, almost anyone. Not like I will, I will still wear high heels all the time and an inordinate amount of pink.)
Krav is a martial arts/self-defense technique used by the Israeli defense forces (and US law enforcement agencies, but doesn't that sound less bad-a?) And it is serious.
So, I walk into this gym, and there are just huge, svelte guys everywhere. In the class room, "Fight Club" is on, and these massive guys are just wailing on each other. Immediately, I call Mere, "WHAT have you gotten me into?" I can't do anything that might mess up my pretty face, see.
So, my class, taught by this huge guy with a cut across his nose from where he took an elbow in Fight Club, was really intense. It was like 15 giant guys, a teensy-tiny Asian girl, a teensy-tiny Asian guy, and me. Any of these people, however, could probably dominate most normal people, especially me. It was really aerobic, and I got to work out a lot of stress throwing knees and elbows at pads held by the instructor. It was really fun! I guess I'm fairly good for a beginner, and lots of big dudes came over after class to shake my hand (even though no one ever wanted to be my partner for anything, and the teacher kept having to. I think they were afraid of my hidden strength. Kidding.) I loved the fact that I got a killer workout, but it seemed more like fun than just working out, because that can get boring. And, my entire body hurts today!
Oh, and, sorry, guys, I guess I broke Rule #1: "Don't talk about Fight Club."
And Rule #2: "Don't talk about Fight Club."

Courtesy of Bob:

"Talent does what it can... Genius does what it must."
Oh, where could Bob have run across this delicious morsel of the human spirit? It's so... deceptively deep. Inarticulate. Actually doesn't make any sense... But, it sounds pretty, right?
The Tom-Cruise-Mission-Impossible-type-mask-wearing villain from "Swamp Thing," that's where.
Oh, yeah.

Gangstas' Paradise

I heard "Gangstas' Paradise" today, after a too-long period in which I didn't even know I missed it... What a great commentary on modern civilization, art, life, and 'hoods.
Good stuff. Really good. I wish I were a rapper. (I am in my car, but I wish it paid more...)

TOO funny?

I am funny. Okay, I admit it, I am really funny. It's kind of my thing.
Apparently, according to not one but two (hot, fun) guy friends, Dalles and Candice's "lucky shoe guy" Cody, my being funny, sassy, confident, smart, etc. is what is keeping me single.
Huh?
I realize that I am also not a size 0 (aka: I'm-so-small-I'm-not-even-there). I've always blamed that, even though my curves are smokin'. Or the fact that I really like fashion, and guys think I'm going to spend all their money (which I'm not, but apparently my wardrobe is a huge red flag. I've actually been dumped after a field-trip to my closet). Who knew it was my stellar personality that was holding me back?
(All that being said, I'm actually cool being alone, but I would like to be kissed again someday... Unfortunately that requires participation by a willing second party. I may love myself more than I love any guy, but sometimes it's nice to have a nod of approval by a member of the opposite sex, preferably a fun, confident, cute one. See, I am opposite of those guys who don't like me, I want someone who is just as fabulous as I am; and that, my friends, is hard to come by! Oh, and by the way, I'm also really good at being modest.)

I'm very busy, and very important.

So, my sister has decided to research some gyms and personal trainers for me, perhaps out of boredom, perhaps because she is just cool like that, and somewhere in the tangled web that she managed to weave she has become my "personal assistant."
Now, I do appreciate the fact that she will be my liaison to these gym people, I won't be receiving any harassing marketing calls, and all my "appointments" and "free trials" are being arranged for me. I also feel like a celebrity or something, not to mention this whole shenanigan seems to me like a real-life Seinfeld episode.
However, as my "personal assistant" sets everything up for me, as I "don't receive phone calls," and as, eventually, I will develop some kind of relationship with one of these trainers/gyms, I am a bit nervous. How will this lie play out? And won't they certainly quote me prices on the high end, since I am so loaded that I have a personal assistant?
She said I work where I actually work, and write novels, and as I am writing all the time, I need an assistant. I would like to know, in exact detail, the financial infrastructure that would allow someone who works where I work and writes unpublished novels to have a personal assistant. And you gotta know that even I'm not buying that I'm independently wealthy and just work where I work to mingle with the plebians. "Oh, yes, I enjoy the general public so much... their whining, ignorance, and bad breath, that I work in a service industry just for fun... Really, now get me some sushi and a sparkling water, personal assistant!"

Music that rocks!

So, in Deep Ellum we found some cool bands...
I particularly liked Southern Drive:
myspace.com/southerndrive
and Country Fried Soul (my fave, and Wm. did not like them at all. Although, I did find out he loves rap, too. Seriously, BFF!):
myspace.com/countryfriedsoulband
If you're looking for some cool local music, also check out Georgia's band, Lost Letters to Santa:
myspace.com/lostletterstosanta
And, don't forget Rocktoberfest is Oct 20th, and I want some friends to come out with me to rock out and support George!!!

What's the point?

Georgia and I were laughing yesterday at our kitchen timer. It beeps so quietly, you have to listen for it intently.
I whispered, "by the way, your food is ready."
Georgia softly lilted, "I don't want to wake you up from your nap, but it's done cooking."

(Seriously, I should have blogged this yesterday, some people are going to be mad I am repeating myself... I really am funny in real life, D. Sometimes, I'm just so funny, I have to write it down here for everyone to appreciate [not that this blog is particularly hilarious, or anything, I just liked it.])

On Golden Pond

As I age, I realize I don't want to anymore.
So, here is the question: Do I
a) age gracefully, take the Audrey Hepburn route. Knowing I will always look young for my age (my genetic pool is fabulous for this one-- thanks mommy!), and can amaze people with my youthful glow, and make other women my age jealous. Keep slathering on the sunscreen.
or
b) LIE. My cake this year is going to say "25," really big. No one will question me. I really feel that if there is one thing a woman is not only allowed, but expected, to lie about, it's her age. And, I have a REAL problem with the age I'm about to turn (simply because it sounds SO OLD to me). I have an actual physical aversion to forming the words with my mouth.
(And, let's be honest, I will be EVEN MORE a scourge according to the people in the society I associate with... [like Kerry mentioned on her blog, a "menace to society"]. They would rather me be dead than single at that age, I mean, "what's wrong with that girl? Obviously, she is the least attractive, worst cook ever! Should we invite her over after church for a casserole with our perfect family (of too many children who smell of dirt and fruit snacks) that we started at 21?"--I would like to make it clear that that is how THEY feel about me, I don't feel that way about myself. I'm fabulous. And, hey, I can make toast, so there.)
So, anyway, I am faced with a decision about how to age. And it needs to be fast, because if I'm gonna start lying, I need to clear up some "misconceptions" and start planting the seeds of 25 now. I can pull it off. Do I want to? Or should I just become an "old lady?"

The church-lady. That's me.

Church was very colorful yesterday...
First of all, a guy was wearing Teva mandles with his dress slacks. I've said it before, and I'll say it again, if I have to wear a dress and high heels (and we all know I can't wear flats with a dress unless I want to look stumpy) then YOU can be bothered to wear real shoes, guys.
I can only imagine his apartment burned to the ground and those were the only shoes he managed to salvage. Which is surprising, being near an open flame, I would predict that those rubber monstrosities would be the first things to melt. (aside: Sorry, Dalles, I warned you it would be the same joke...)
The highlight of my church experience is, well, just fabulous. Wait for it...
Cute little Kerry was sitting next to me, with our new (mantastic) friend Dalles on the other side of her. Dalles had his arm on the back of the bench, behind Kerry, which seems insignificant now, but won't in a minute. (You have to picture it in your mind, or this just won't work.) Another guy walked up behind Kerry after the lesson and put his hand on her shoulder, to get her attention. Then basically Kerry, seemingly repulsed, starts leaning forward, forward, forward, until she could practically touch the floor if she tried.
After a serious moment of this, Kerry realizes someone was trying to get her attention. Then, she admits that she had thought it was Dalles' hand on her shoulder. They had just met, and I can only imagine she was thinking, "this guy moves fast." Apparently, there was also some back-scratching going on that Dalles and I were not aware of.
Okay, I don't know if I did it justice. I doubt it. It was just hilarious that not only was she doing everything possible to get away from that hand on her back, but she thought it was him. (As he said, "go, go, gadget arm!")
At least she set herself apart from all those other girls who would love to have Dalles' handsome hand on their back! Love ya, Kerry!
Oh, and the last thing, I realized that I should probably just join a convent. If only it didn't require catholicism (not that there's anything wrong with that).

Shirt for a dress

Okay, so I know the lines have become hazy lately as to what an actual item of clothing is supposed to be... (Should I wear this dress with jeans, like a shirt? Maybe this bra is supposed to be a top... etc, all the way to my early demise from having to see these things being worn in public.)
Perhaps the most dangerous is what I saw on Saturday night, in Deep Ellum. (Yes, I realize I was in Deep Ellum, people, but unless I entered some portal to another dimension, I still say what I am about to describe is sacrilege to fashion.)
A girl was wearing a shirt as a dress. Yes, it was silky. Yes, it was pouffy. No, it was not a dress. I was very concerned upon seeing her, (high heels and all... the last time I checked, we don't think "escort" is the new "prep," or whatever) and was only mildly relieved to realized she had on some very short shorts underneath (which were exposed when she went to hugging all the future-serial-killer-type men she was with.) Not even shorts, they were indeed so tiny I am apt to call them knickers.
Why do girls gotta dress like hos? We're never gonna get respect if there are so many out there who treat themselves like pieces of meat. Listen to Aretha, girls. R-E-S-P-E-C-T.
And don't get mad when random men paw at your bottom if you are dressed like that.