Well, we're in the home stretch of gifting for the holidays. The gift I've received most this year is the link to "Dick in a Box" on YouTube. I received the link about 15 times in 2 days before I began stopping would-be IM links from happening.
Yes, it's funny. No, it's not THAT funny after the 5th time. But yes, it's still funny.
If you haven't seen it - and I can't imagine how you wouldn't have received this link 15 times already like me - well here ya go. It's probably over on Linkey-loo anyway. Don't say I never got you anything.
Happy Holidaze!
Thursday, December 21, 2006
Thursday, December 14, 2006
i Against i
With all this holiday shopping (that would be Christmas shopping in the religion I was raised under, but don't practice anymore), I've noticed the abundance of iThings. You know, stuff that's meant to go with an iPod, but maybe not always.
iPod is meant to work with iTunes. Check. That makes sense. But there's iEverythingunderthefuckingsun these days. iHome, iSkin, and the always easy to remember iH31s. Yeah, go to the Best Buy and ask those oh-so-helpful employees where you can get an iH31s for your iPod. They'll surely tell you "I don't know what that is but I'll go check. I'll be right back." But they won't be right back. They'll be hiding from you in the appliance section, where nobody ever goes.
If you don't get enough iPod in your daily existence, you can go to iLounge and see the accessories you don't have. You can get an iWoofer if your stereo doesn't have enough thump. And when you've dropped your iPod too many times, you can't get any old scratch remover to make it purty again, you have to get iCleaner. Just don't go to Walgreen's to buy it or they'll direct you toward the contact lens solution.
There's iEat if you can't figure out what to make for din-din. And then when din-din is done, use iCarta for... well, I'm not ever gonna touch anybody else's iPod ever again.
If you're looking for the perfect gift to get your favorite person for whatever holiday you were raised under, look no further.
You just can't be away from your iPod for too long, so better strap it to your undies. Well at least until the music really gets you in the mood.
iLee iLee the iMusical iBee
iPod is meant to work with iTunes. Check. That makes sense. But there's iEverythingunderthefuckingsun these days. iHome, iSkin, and the always easy to remember iH31s. Yeah, go to the Best Buy and ask those oh-so-helpful employees where you can get an iH31s for your iPod. They'll surely tell you "I don't know what that is but I'll go check. I'll be right back." But they won't be right back. They'll be hiding from you in the appliance section, where nobody ever goes.
If you don't get enough iPod in your daily existence, you can go to iLounge and see the accessories you don't have. You can get an iWoofer if your stereo doesn't have enough thump. And when you've dropped your iPod too many times, you can't get any old scratch remover to make it purty again, you have to get iCleaner. Just don't go to Walgreen's to buy it or they'll direct you toward the contact lens solution.
There's iEat if you can't figure out what to make for din-din. And then when din-din is done, use iCarta for... well, I'm not ever gonna touch anybody else's iPod ever again.
If you're looking for the perfect gift to get your favorite person for whatever holiday you were raised under, look no further.
You just can't be away from your iPod for too long, so better strap it to your undies. Well at least until the music really gets you in the mood.
iLee iLee the iMusical iBee
Thursday, December 07, 2006
The Hurting
You gotta love the grocery store. It's where we get to experience one of the most mundane aspects of our existence: the food gathering part. Except now it's got all sorts of decisions attached to it which are far more important than HUNGRY NEED FOOD:
- is that brand cheaper than that other brand?
- is that brand more eco-friendly than that other brand?
- am I getting a good deal at this market?
- should I buy the Coppola wine or the Charles Shaw?
HUNGRY NEED FOOD doesn't ask those questions. HUNGRY NEED FOOD finds adequate food and ingests it. When we moved toward having a civilized society, we introduced money into the equation and now HUNGRY NEED FOOD must wait. And HUNGRY NEED FOOD doesn't like to wait.
Waiting happens at the checkout, where all sorts of stuff you expect to happen in places like the bank or the DMV happens: People without their shit ready. Employees not interested in efficiency. Or if you're like me (or if your face happens to look like mine), you get both in a lovely setting just one back from getting rung up at the register.
Got my food. Got cash in hand ready to fork over and begin eating. Senior citizen lady in front of me, her goods on the conveyor belt. She says, "I brought up this burrito box to see if you had any more in back."
Gorilla-sized employee working register glances at me and my food in one hand and cash in the other.
"Let me check for you, ma'am."
(It would be so easy to just throw my cash at him and be on my way, but no, I am a responsible and patient citizen.)
Employee mutters incomprehensible banter over intercom. White guy in turban hurries up to answer call. "What's that you need, T?" (Apparently T is the name of the gorilla-sized gentleman at the register)
"See if there are any more of these." (Points at empty burrito box.)
White turban guy says "I don't think there are any more, but I'll check."
In the meantime, senior lady's (who is very sweet and nice) goods are rung:
"Is it senior discount day today?"
"Senior day is on Tuesday." (This was on Monday)
"Tuesday, huh"
(No reply from employee)
"Do I sign it now?"
"Wait 'til I'm done."
"Can you help me take my groceries out to my car?"
"We'll have somebody do that for you ma'am."
Employee #2 arrives.
"Would you like all these in your canvas bag, ma'am?"
"As many as you can get in there, dear."
Employee #2 crams everything into one bag.
Senior lady stops her "It gets heavy really quickly"
Employee #2 grabs a paper bag and tosses groceries in.
White turban guy comes back empty handed.
"Sorry, we don't have any more of those burritos." He hurries away.
Employee hands senior lady her receipt and she gets her things together at her cart with employee #2.
Employee rings up my food.
I hand him my cash. "I don't need a bag."
He hands me my change and I maneuver around senior lady and employee #2, still at the cart getting organized.
Hungry. Need food.
- is that brand cheaper than that other brand?
- is that brand more eco-friendly than that other brand?
- am I getting a good deal at this market?
- should I buy the Coppola wine or the Charles Shaw?
HUNGRY NEED FOOD doesn't ask those questions. HUNGRY NEED FOOD finds adequate food and ingests it. When we moved toward having a civilized society, we introduced money into the equation and now HUNGRY NEED FOOD must wait. And HUNGRY NEED FOOD doesn't like to wait.
Waiting happens at the checkout, where all sorts of stuff you expect to happen in places like the bank or the DMV happens: People without their shit ready. Employees not interested in efficiency. Or if you're like me (or if your face happens to look like mine), you get both in a lovely setting just one back from getting rung up at the register.
Got my food. Got cash in hand ready to fork over and begin eating. Senior citizen lady in front of me, her goods on the conveyor belt. She says, "I brought up this burrito box to see if you had any more in back."
Gorilla-sized employee working register glances at me and my food in one hand and cash in the other.
"Let me check for you, ma'am."
(It would be so easy to just throw my cash at him and be on my way, but no, I am a responsible and patient citizen.)
Employee mutters incomprehensible banter over intercom. White guy in turban hurries up to answer call. "What's that you need, T?" (Apparently T is the name of the gorilla-sized gentleman at the register)
"See if there are any more of these." (Points at empty burrito box.)
White turban guy says "I don't think there are any more, but I'll check."
In the meantime, senior lady's (who is very sweet and nice) goods are rung:
"Is it senior discount day today?"
"Senior day is on Tuesday." (This was on Monday)
"Tuesday, huh"
(No reply from employee)
"Do I sign it now?"
"Wait 'til I'm done."
"Can you help me take my groceries out to my car?"
"We'll have somebody do that for you ma'am."
Employee #2 arrives.
"Would you like all these in your canvas bag, ma'am?"
"As many as you can get in there, dear."
Employee #2 crams everything into one bag.
Senior lady stops her "It gets heavy really quickly"
Employee #2 grabs a paper bag and tosses groceries in.
White turban guy comes back empty handed.
"Sorry, we don't have any more of those burritos." He hurries away.
Employee hands senior lady her receipt and she gets her things together at her cart with employee #2.
Employee rings up my food.
I hand him my cash. "I don't need a bag."
He hands me my change and I maneuver around senior lady and employee #2, still at the cart getting organized.
Hungry. Need food.
Thursday, November 30, 2006
Thunderstruck
Actual conversation with somebody at a party recently:
Dude: How you liking SoCal?
Lee: I like it. I didn't think it would get as chilly as it is, but it's that time of year. Who knew it wouldn't be warm and sunny all the time here?
Dude: Yeah! People say there aren't any seasons here, but there are slight variations in the weather. You know what place doesn't have seasons? San Francisco. It's always gray and cold there no matter what time of year it is.
Lee: Well, it does tend to dump buckets of rain in the fall and winter there more often than other times of the year.
Dude: Nah. It's the same all the time there. There's more variation in the weather here. It's subtle, but it's definitely cold in the winter and hot in the summer.
Lee: Yeah.
Dude: It's kind of like AC/DC. You listen to AC/DC?
Lee: A little bit. I don't know too much of their stuff after Back in Black.
Dude: Well, the weather in SoCal is just like AC/DC: People say their stuff all sounds the same, and it sorta does, but if you KNOW AC/DC, you know that The Razors Edge sounds a hell of a lot different than Back in Black.
Lee: Wow. I had no idea.
Who knew the weather in SoCal is like AC/DC? I sure do now.
Dude: How you liking SoCal?
Lee: I like it. I didn't think it would get as chilly as it is, but it's that time of year. Who knew it wouldn't be warm and sunny all the time here?
Dude: Yeah! People say there aren't any seasons here, but there are slight variations in the weather. You know what place doesn't have seasons? San Francisco. It's always gray and cold there no matter what time of year it is.
Lee: Well, it does tend to dump buckets of rain in the fall and winter there more often than other times of the year.
Dude: Nah. It's the same all the time there. There's more variation in the weather here. It's subtle, but it's definitely cold in the winter and hot in the summer.
Lee: Yeah.
Dude: It's kind of like AC/DC. You listen to AC/DC?
Lee: A little bit. I don't know too much of their stuff after Back in Black.
Dude: Well, the weather in SoCal is just like AC/DC: People say their stuff all sounds the same, and it sorta does, but if you KNOW AC/DC, you know that The Razors Edge sounds a hell of a lot different than Back in Black.
Lee: Wow. I had no idea.
Who knew the weather in SoCal is like AC/DC? I sure do now.
Thursday, November 23, 2006
Thank You (Falettinme Be Mice Elf Agin)
What the hell are you looking here for? You should be looking for the gravy to slather all over your plate of turkey & mashed potatoes.
Thanks for reading! See you next week.
Thanks for reading! See you next week.
Thursday, November 16, 2006
I want to ride my bicycle
I have the luxury of being able to ride my bike to work. It's 3.5 miles each way, and mostly flat with subtle inclines and declines. And luckily for me, there's a bike lane most of the way. And being that I live in lovely Southern California, where the weather is gorgeous most of the time, I don't have to worry about the elements too much. It's been fun to ride past all the people sitting in their cars in my traffic-free lane meant just for me. That is, until recently.
You'd think with the mornings getting a tad more chilly here, there'd be fewer cyclists on the road. But in fact, the opposite is true. My once-clear bike lane has become congested with other riders. Riders who like to go different speeds than I do. Riders on beach cruisers who aren't attempting to get to work in a timely manner. Riders decked out in racing gear who aren't attempting to race.
And the worst of all: riders who pass me.
The last few weeks I've finally been able to arrange my morning so that I leave my house and get on the road at the same time. Can you believe that? I can't. Anyway, 8:30 it is. Apparently it's the same time this other guy leaves his house every morning too. And he passes me every day. I thought I was fast (certain writers on this website have referred to me as "super-sonic bee" before), but apparently I've slowed in my old age. And the thing that kills me most about this guy is that he looks like Napoleon Dynamite. Huge blonde hair under his helmet, lanky, on a road bike with a huge frame, messenger bag slung over his shoulder. I can almost hear "Tina! Come get some ham!" as he rides away. The worst part about getting passed by the biking Napoleon Dynamite is that it looks so effortless as he goes by. La la la, just in probably the highest gear possible, slowly cranking, but making huge strides forward. La la la. I hate him.
But worse than that, there was a guy who even inspired a bit of road rage recently. I'm just past the first 1/5 of my ride, stopped at a light, and this joker with no helmet meanders past me and runs the red. Fine. If he wants to get run over, fine. So when the light turns green, I start pedaling and eventually catch up to him. I figure he's not going too too slow, so I coast behind for a bit, knowing that I'm gonna zip by him when we reach the next stop light. But after a couple blocks of green lights, another guy blows past both of us. I decide I've had enough, so I pass the red-light-running-guy. A couple lights later, there's a red. I stop and wait, and then I feel something bump against my back tire. I turn around and it's red-light-running-guy. I stare at him for a second, then turn around.
It's at that point, I decide to mess with this guy a little, so I ride the next leg of the trip more slowly than usual. Eventually he passes me, and at the next stop light, he's not running the red. So I do what any good SoCal citizen would do and obey the golden rule of the road: Do unto others as they've done unto you. I bump his tire. He doesn't turn around at all. He looks both ways and runs the red. I'm not gonna let this guy win the race, so I pedal my ass off until I reach him, but he starts veering into the oncoming lanes (there's no cars coming, don't worry about red-light-running-guy) like he's gonna take a left. I ride past him and raise my arms in victory. I haven't seen him since. I sure showed him. That morning, it took me about 20 minutes to catch my breath. I'm gettin too old for this shit.
You'd think with the mornings getting a tad more chilly here, there'd be fewer cyclists on the road. But in fact, the opposite is true. My once-clear bike lane has become congested with other riders. Riders who like to go different speeds than I do. Riders on beach cruisers who aren't attempting to get to work in a timely manner. Riders decked out in racing gear who aren't attempting to race.
And the worst of all: riders who pass me.
The last few weeks I've finally been able to arrange my morning so that I leave my house and get on the road at the same time. Can you believe that? I can't. Anyway, 8:30 it is. Apparently it's the same time this other guy leaves his house every morning too. And he passes me every day. I thought I was fast (certain writers on this website have referred to me as "super-sonic bee" before), but apparently I've slowed in my old age. And the thing that kills me most about this guy is that he looks like Napoleon Dynamite. Huge blonde hair under his helmet, lanky, on a road bike with a huge frame, messenger bag slung over his shoulder. I can almost hear "Tina! Come get some ham!" as he rides away. The worst part about getting passed by the biking Napoleon Dynamite is that it looks so effortless as he goes by. La la la, just in probably the highest gear possible, slowly cranking, but making huge strides forward. La la la. I hate him.
But worse than that, there was a guy who even inspired a bit of road rage recently. I'm just past the first 1/5 of my ride, stopped at a light, and this joker with no helmet meanders past me and runs the red. Fine. If he wants to get run over, fine. So when the light turns green, I start pedaling and eventually catch up to him. I figure he's not going too too slow, so I coast behind for a bit, knowing that I'm gonna zip by him when we reach the next stop light. But after a couple blocks of green lights, another guy blows past both of us. I decide I've had enough, so I pass the red-light-running-guy. A couple lights later, there's a red. I stop and wait, and then I feel something bump against my back tire. I turn around and it's red-light-running-guy. I stare at him for a second, then turn around.
It's at that point, I decide to mess with this guy a little, so I ride the next leg of the trip more slowly than usual. Eventually he passes me, and at the next stop light, he's not running the red. So I do what any good SoCal citizen would do and obey the golden rule of the road: Do unto others as they've done unto you. I bump his tire. He doesn't turn around at all. He looks both ways and runs the red. I'm not gonna let this guy win the race, so I pedal my ass off until I reach him, but he starts veering into the oncoming lanes (there's no cars coming, don't worry about red-light-running-guy) like he's gonna take a left. I ride past him and raise my arms in victory. I haven't seen him since. I sure showed him. That morning, it took me about 20 minutes to catch my breath. I'm gettin too old for this shit.
Thursday, November 09, 2006
Dress You Up
A couple weeks ago I wore a tie on Friday. First time wearing a tie at the new job. I wasn't wearing a suit, mind you. Tie, dress shirt, slacks. No tennies. Loafers. No jacket. By the looks and remarks I got, you'd think I was wearing a Halloween costume.
"What's the special occasion?"
"You trying to show us up?"
"Isn't that tie thing for Thursdays?"
Which brings me to the point of this weeks post: If the "tie thing" is for Thursdays, why haven't I seen anybody wearing a tie on Thursdays?!?!?!?!!! My apologies to Alan and Brady - who both wear ties on a regular basis. One co-worker saw me and said "Oh, you're starting the tie thing. Isn't that for Thursdays? I'd totally be into doing that." Whew. FINALLY!
The next Thursday rolls around (this was last Thursday), so I get ready for work and put a tie on. Lily hates it when I wear a tie to work. She thinks it's dumb. There was once a time in men's work-wear that men were EXPECTED to wear ties. Not just on Thursday, mind you. Monday through Friday, sucka. No "Casual Fridays" anywhere. Just "put on your suit and tie and look like you're going to work" days. Look like you're going to work. These days, seems the line between looking like you're going to work and looking like you're going to have a drink at the local watering hole has been cleanly erased.
Anyway, I get to work, grab coffee and the ridicule continues:
"Is it still Halloween?" Yes! And what a unique costume I've come up with!
"Is it dress up day?" Yes! You know how I love to play dress up!
"Is it Thursday?" Ugh.
And my new comrade in tie-wearing forgot about the tie wearing. Or he didn't know it was Thursday. Or something. Whatever the case, I stuck out like a sore thumb because NOBODY KNOWS THAT THURSDAY IS "TIE ONE ON THURSDAY"!
Here's the deal:
As a member of the TNSC, you get to, on Thursday, wear a tie. Then after work (or after whatever you've been doing all day in your neckwear), you go to the TNSC venue and because you're wearing a tie, Alan - who will be wearing a tie - buys you a drink. If your name is Lee and you were his assistant at one point, he might even buy you multiple drinks! So what are you waiting for? Wear a tie and get a drink bought by AC! The end.
"What's the special occasion?"
"You trying to show us up?"
"Isn't that tie thing for Thursdays?"
Which brings me to the point of this weeks post: If the "tie thing" is for Thursdays, why haven't I seen anybody wearing a tie on Thursdays?!?!?!?!!! My apologies to Alan and Brady - who both wear ties on a regular basis. One co-worker saw me and said "Oh, you're starting the tie thing. Isn't that for Thursdays? I'd totally be into doing that." Whew. FINALLY!
The next Thursday rolls around (this was last Thursday), so I get ready for work and put a tie on. Lily hates it when I wear a tie to work. She thinks it's dumb. There was once a time in men's work-wear that men were EXPECTED to wear ties. Not just on Thursday, mind you. Monday through Friday, sucka. No "Casual Fridays" anywhere. Just "put on your suit and tie and look like you're going to work" days. Look like you're going to work. These days, seems the line between looking like you're going to work and looking like you're going to have a drink at the local watering hole has been cleanly erased.
Anyway, I get to work, grab coffee and the ridicule continues:
"Is it still Halloween?" Yes! And what a unique costume I've come up with!
"Is it dress up day?" Yes! You know how I love to play dress up!
"Is it Thursday?" Ugh.
And my new comrade in tie-wearing forgot about the tie wearing. Or he didn't know it was Thursday. Or something. Whatever the case, I stuck out like a sore thumb because NOBODY KNOWS THAT THURSDAY IS "TIE ONE ON THURSDAY"!
Here's the deal:
As a member of the TNSC, you get to, on Thursday, wear a tie. Then after work (or after whatever you've been doing all day in your neckwear), you go to the TNSC venue and because you're wearing a tie, Alan - who will be wearing a tie - buys you a drink. If your name is Lee and you were his assistant at one point, he might even buy you multiple drinks! So what are you waiting for? Wear a tie and get a drink bought by AC! The end.
Thursday, November 02, 2006
Cheap Trick
I love Halloween. Who doesn't? I mean, at what age will you stop loving Halloween? When you're a kid you love it because you get to go out Trick or Treating and eat candy for weeks afterward. When you're an adult you love it because you get to go out and party your ass off with a costume on. And eat candy for weeks afterward! But somewhere in the transition from kid to adult, I think the message went awry.
Halloween is traditionally about scary. Not goofy, although some of the best costumes are the goofy ones. But Halloween is definitely NOT ABOUT SEXY. I don't know where the train ran off the rails with the costumes, but how the hell did "sexy" make its way into Halloween? Elvira, fine. She's the exception because she's still trying to keep her cleavage in the Halloween vein, but how did every costume you can think of become skewed toward lust?
Example:
"Hey Blanche, what are you going to be for Halloween this year?"
"I dunno, maybe a sexy nurse"
Okay, what the fuck does being a sexy nurse have to do with Halloween? Nothing. Not that we don't like seeing Blanche run around in a short skirt and high heels, but as a nurse? For Halloween?
"How about you, Hildegard?"
"I dunno, maybe Little Red Riding Hood, but Sexy"
Little Red Riding Hood wasn't enough of a costume, huh? You had to go and make it sexy. Ooh, I'm scared!
"And what are you going as, Myrna?"
"I dunno, I was thinking of going as a sexy police officer"
"And you, Doris?"
"A sexy indian, but I dunno."
"What are you going to be this Halloween, Bob?"
"Peter Pan"
"Whew! I was getting worried about all the sexy in Halloween this year, but I knew you wouldn't fall for that old... Bob?"
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
Which brings to light the real reason why I don't like the whole "sexy" costume idea: There aren't any "sexy" costumes for men. But I know of one. And it's just what I'm gonna be next year. SEXY EDITOR!!! Oh wait, I don't have to wait til next year to wear that costume. I already wear it every day. Aw yeah.
Halloween is traditionally about scary. Not goofy, although some of the best costumes are the goofy ones. But Halloween is definitely NOT ABOUT SEXY. I don't know where the train ran off the rails with the costumes, but how the hell did "sexy" make its way into Halloween? Elvira, fine. She's the exception because she's still trying to keep her cleavage in the Halloween vein, but how did every costume you can think of become skewed toward lust?
Example:
"Hey Blanche, what are you going to be for Halloween this year?"
"I dunno, maybe a sexy nurse"
Okay, what the fuck does being a sexy nurse have to do with Halloween? Nothing. Not that we don't like seeing Blanche run around in a short skirt and high heels, but as a nurse? For Halloween?
"How about you, Hildegard?"
"I dunno, maybe Little Red Riding Hood, but Sexy"
Little Red Riding Hood wasn't enough of a costume, huh? You had to go and make it sexy. Ooh, I'm scared!
"And what are you going as, Myrna?"
"I dunno, I was thinking of going as a sexy police officer"
"And you, Doris?"
"A sexy indian, but I dunno."
"What are you going to be this Halloween, Bob?"
"Peter Pan"
"Whew! I was getting worried about all the sexy in Halloween this year, but I knew you wouldn't fall for that old... Bob?"
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
Which brings to light the real reason why I don't like the whole "sexy" costume idea: There aren't any "sexy" costumes for men. But I know of one. And it's just what I'm gonna be next year. SEXY EDITOR!!! Oh wait, I don't have to wait til next year to wear that costume. I already wear it every day. Aw yeah.
Thursday, October 26, 2006
Stay Clean
The other day I was cleaning the kitchen, which is what I do every day after
dinner. I tie the apron, put the gloves on and get to work. Wash the
dishes then tackle the grime on the stove. Some nights I'm more meticulous than others, so I take the heating elements off and set them aside before getting into it. And some nights I really go to town and get out the "more-than-daily-cleaning" cleaning supplies for a thorough cleaning. You know, for the stuff that just doesn't come off easily. Monday night was one such night.
Scrubbing the stove can be both a therapeutic and an infuriating experience. Watching the grime come off revealing the beautifully unblemished surface underneath is the therapeutic part. Seeing the grime stick around after scrubbing so hard that little pieces of the sponge break off revealing muscle soreness in your triceps is the infuriating part. I was deep in the infuriating section when my mind started to wander. "That doesn't need to come off. It's fine." So I stopped and looked at the black mark on the stovetop, contemplating whether to go on or to throw in the towel - literally! Not really literally because I wasn't using a towel to scrub. It was a sponge, but to "throw in the sponge" isn't the saying, now is it.
I turned from the stove to put the sponge back in its place, then quickly
turned back and scrubbed the hell out of the mark until it was gone. That's
how it starts: A tiny seed of thought that says that dirt and grime are
welcome in our homes. But no. We won't allow them to take root on in our
kitchens, on our stoves. We will win the battle. With all the fortitude
and relentlessness as the dirt and grime, we will win.
dinner. I tie the apron, put the gloves on and get to work. Wash the
dishes then tackle the grime on the stove. Some nights I'm more meticulous than others, so I take the heating elements off and set them aside before getting into it. And some nights I really go to town and get out the "more-than-daily-cleaning" cleaning supplies for a thorough cleaning. You know, for the stuff that just doesn't come off easily. Monday night was one such night.
Scrubbing the stove can be both a therapeutic and an infuriating experience. Watching the grime come off revealing the beautifully unblemished surface underneath is the therapeutic part. Seeing the grime stick around after scrubbing so hard that little pieces of the sponge break off revealing muscle soreness in your triceps is the infuriating part. I was deep in the infuriating section when my mind started to wander. "That doesn't need to come off. It's fine." So I stopped and looked at the black mark on the stovetop, contemplating whether to go on or to throw in the towel - literally! Not really literally because I wasn't using a towel to scrub. It was a sponge, but to "throw in the sponge" isn't the saying, now is it.
I turned from the stove to put the sponge back in its place, then quickly
turned back and scrubbed the hell out of the mark until it was gone. That's
how it starts: A tiny seed of thought that says that dirt and grime are
welcome in our homes. But no. We won't allow them to take root on in our
kitchens, on our stoves. We will win the battle. With all the fortitude
and relentlessness as the dirt and grime, we will win.
Thursday, October 19, 2006
Proteck ya neck
The finale of Project Runway season 3 was last night. I've been watching by osmosis of Lily's watching, but also because I've convinced myself (and others) that the editing is by far the best you'll see on any reality-based TV show. Well that and because Heidi Klum has managed to stay by far the most babe-a-licious of any supermodel in her peer group. By contrast, Tyra banks has managed to show that she's a super ugly hateful bitch on the inside.
Why the judges chose Jeffrey as the winner over Uli was pretty clear: Jeffrey's collection at Bryant Park was far more innovative than Uli's. But the judges should have taken one look at him and tossed him out based on the cardinal sin of fashion: When trying to downplay large physical attributes, YOU DON'T PUT HORIZONTAL FEATURES ON IT!!!
Jeffrey's neck is huge. So much so that you'd think he'd constantly be in a turtleneck to hide that monstrosity. Instead, he has a group of tattoos that amplify its width.
I thought for sure that as Uli and Jeffrey waited to the verdict, Heidi would say "Jeffrey, your designs were brilliant, but you've shown that you have no ideas on how to use fashion to hide your neck. Auf Wiedersehen."
Why the judges chose Jeffrey as the winner over Uli was pretty clear: Jeffrey's collection at Bryant Park was far more innovative than Uli's. But the judges should have taken one look at him and tossed him out based on the cardinal sin of fashion: When trying to downplay large physical attributes, YOU DON'T PUT HORIZONTAL FEATURES ON IT!!!
Jeffrey's neck is huge. So much so that you'd think he'd constantly be in a turtleneck to hide that monstrosity. Instead, he has a group of tattoos that amplify its width.
I thought for sure that as Uli and Jeffrey waited to the verdict, Heidi would say "Jeffrey, your designs were brilliant, but you've shown that you have no ideas on how to use fashion to hide your neck. Auf Wiedersehen."
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