Thursday, February 24, 2011


We recently watched a film adaptation of Oscar Wilde's "The Picture of Dorian Gray", in which a man sells his soul in order to keep his stunning beauty through the ages.  I woke up with a zit the size of Jupiter on my face. Oh, how I long for my face 3 days ago when I was zitless. What do you think I could sell?

Martha Stewart and I are on good terms again. I was avoiding her for a while. She was just asking too much of me. She demanded I get salt from a kosher deli, chocolate from Le Chocolafancypants, butter freshly churned from my own cow, blah blah blah. But I know people really can change, so I gave her another shot over the weekend with a caramel cake. I'm happy to announce that we're picking things back up again, starting where we left off. Cause that cake was delicious. And I didn't have to buy any ingredients that I couldn't pronounce.

I don't feel great about turning 25. I might buy a motorcycle to deal with it. Or ridiculous shoes.

Tuesday, February 22, 2011

Abraham Lincoln's Desk

We were eating breakfast next to a picturesque pond where colorful fish and a single, white swan swam. A grandmother and her grandaughter, the essence of innocence with long curly hair and a cherub-like face, approached the pong. Seemingly accustomed to visitors, the swan gracefully made its way over.  It was an exciting moment for all of us as were were able to more closely observe the beauty of the bird, it's elongated neck, dark eyes, and snow-white feathers. The excitement grew as the child held out her hand and the swan inched closer. It was to be a bridging of species, a connection between human and water fowl. A simple touch would communicate the respect of an entire breakfast balcony for one white swan. Then SNAP. The swan went for the kill and the girl, unharmed but terrified, ran away crying. We laughed for quite a while.

Monday, February 21, 2011

i like robert

I recently received an email from NPR that read,

"Thank you for your interest in the supervising producer position with All Things Considered. We received a large number of applications from candidates highly qualified for this job. At this time we have decided to move forward with an individual who more closely matches the skills and qualifications required for this role.

Cheyrl Imelda Hampton
Director, Journalism Recruiting

Here's the thing, Cheryl, I don't remember applying for this producer position, which means either A. you have me confused with someone else, or B, more likely, I applied quite a while ago. Like, at least a year. and really, Cheryl, sometimes never is better than late. Because there's nothing quite like getting rejected out of the blue. Just ask Shawntel, tonight's dejected bachelorette. It hurts. Especially when you're not expecting it. Although Shawntel maybe should have seen it coming after making Brad tour the funeral home and pretending to drain his blood and then making him sit through her father's lecture on inheriting the family business. I really can't blame Bachelor Brad for giving her the boot. But I can blame you, Cheryl. How horrible would it have been to just let me believe that my "you're hired!" letter was lost in the interwebs, or sent to the wrong person, or maybe never sent? Also, Imelda...please explain why your middle name is so rad and the rest of your name so boring. kthnx.

Monday, February 14, 2011

When I did a google image search for Love, this is what happened

Happy Valentine's Day, Brenda!

Friday, February 11, 2011

For the third time

Sometimes Netflix Reccomendations are SPOT ON. Based on my interest in Vampire Diaries and Veronica Mars (note: I have never watched or searched for either of those) NF suggests:

"Thanks to a heavenly mix-up, rail-thin, super-shallow model Deb finds herself reincarnated as a whip-smart, large-size lawyer in this Lifetime dramedy series starring Brooke Elliott as the clothes hanger-turned-legal eagle Jane Bingum. At first distraught at her new, more womanly physique, Jane soon realizes she has something else new as well -- a brain! Margaret Cho co-stars as Jane's assistant."

Yes please!
This has all the makings of a show I'll love. First, a body switch. I'm a sucker for the body switch. I loved both Freaky  Fridays, and All of Me, and the Disney Channel Original Movie Wish Upon a Star. Lifetime. It really is the network for women. They just get me, you know? And what's more fun the a whip-smart large-size lawyer? I mean it's the dilemma we've all all faced at one point or another. Be rail thin (blond) and ditzy, or be large (burnette) and incredibly intelligent. And finally, Margaret Cho. I mean, how great is she?

So of course i watched the Pilot. It did not disappoint. A heaven with escalators. Chachi from Happy Days as a guardian angel. Stress eating easy cheese. The line "Thank you for believing in me!". The skinny ***** lawyer trying to take over Jane's case at the office. And a weird smiley closing shot. So many gems. I'm sold, and I'll keep watching. Thanks, Netflix!

Thursday, February 10, 2011

hey dude

You, dear reader, I'm sure are well aware of my amazing domestic accomplishments. The cleaning, the cooking, the crafting...really, I've mastered it all. And I really don't mean to boast, but this is my blog after all. So admittedly, I'm just a tiny bit proud of the Marthaesque accomplishments of tonight. Lets list them, shall we?
-Having a natural feel for the sweet medlies of flavors that really make a meal sing, I added soy sauce to our ramen. This was, of course, a success.
-I watched Stephen do the dishes.
-I watched Stephen do the laundry.
-I started to feel guilty, so I cleaned the bathroom. Sort of.
-I folded two shirts before giving up and putting the laundry basket on the floor.
-I watched the entire NBC Thursday night line up.
-I stopped ollie from swallowing a gum wrapper.

Now, loyal fans, don't fret. You too will someday master the art of housekeeping.

Monday, February 7, 2011


Becoming puppy pwners has reduced Stephen and I to blabbering idiots. Yesterday, Stephen called to me from upstairs, but instead of my name, he yelled "puppy!" Which would be cool if it were 1950 and we were an extremely wealthy older couple, but it's not and we're not. I have a permanent case of googley voice and say things like "sleepy time go night night" and "go poop!". Our floors are also cleaner than they have ever been, because anything left strewn about will be chewed and swallowed. Ollie's favorite place is underneath the bed, so I organized the contents of such for the first time in...nevermind.

I always forget how young I look until I meet strangers. Like the pedicurist who asked when I'll graduate high school or the cashiers at Fresh Market who call me "dear" and "sweetheart". Little do they know I'm weeks away from turning 25, which feels old. Like, I should really understand tax refunds old. I wonder what will happen when I hit the child-bearing era of life. What will people assume?

Wednesday, February 2, 2011


What if Bill Murray was not an actor, but instead the subject of a documentary, and Ground Hog's Day was an actual instance of day repetition caught on film? And what if it happened to you today? Would you be ok with repeating today forever? I thought I might be, but then I stepped outside. I tried to take Ollie for a short walk, and he sat down, barked, then turned to head back inside. And he's right. It's too cold to function. And not charming, snow covered, warm by the fire cold. It's bitter, brown grass, car won't start, hellacold. So no, I couldn't repeat today. But I think I could repeat a Saturday in early June.
What day would you repeat?

Tuesday, February 1, 2011

she's a lady

Our neighbors have a cat. At least I assume it's our neghbors', because it's always wandering near our apartment, and I assume someone owns it because it has a colllar. Anyway, the cat is usually outside, and he usually comes to greet me whenever I leave the apartment. Which, is sort of sweet, right? And so even though I've never been a huge cat fan, aside from the hilarious cats in internet videos, I let myself become friends with the cat. And so for weeks I'd give the cat a pat on the head, a "hi kitty" in my most googly tone, and jingle my keys for a second  in a playful manner. The cat seemed to respond well, playing along, grateful to have a friend. And it was with theis mutual respect that we lived the last month of our lives.Until yesterday. Yesterday, I was walking out the door to go to work, and Cat ran inside. He had been hanging outside our door just waiting to dart in. Within five seconds he managed to cram underneath our makeshift kitchen counter, and there was no way I could get to him. I tried reaching but he hissed and scratched and managed to disappear even further underneath. I was late for work with a huge cat (like, capable of eating a puppy big) lodged in my apartment. And only after a lot of dish towel swatting did the cat finally do a final lap around the apartment and then dart out the door. I dunno. I thought we were friends. But in the end he only wanted to take advantage of me.