Tuesday, February 27, 2007

A good philosophy

Monday, February 26, 2007

Stupid internet

My roommate is moving, and disconnected our wireless router. I can only blog from work for now, but will hopefully get a full post up this week.

Friday, February 23, 2007

SCTV Moment of Zen/Happy Friday/Did y'all miss me?

Hello cherubs -

Sorry you haven't heard from me in a bit. I've been back on the east coast, helping Little Sis with her wedding plans. I'm pulling maid of honor duty, so for the past five days I've been busy helping her out with her registry, picking out wedding gowns, and trying on bridesmaid's dresses. The finalist for the bridesmaids is pictured here. Classy, no? I'll be wearing brown, or "Truffle," as the designer calls it. It's a fall wedding, and the color of this dress should be lovely with my hair. The other ladies will be wearing the same dress in "Latte," which is a caramel-esque color. Nothing's set in stone yet, but I think it's a nice choice.

It was great spending an extended amount of time with Little Sis. She's been living with her fiancé for about two years now, but I had never gotten the chance to visit them in their home. Her future husband is terrific, and we all had a lot of laughs. The trip was emotional, too; our mother passed away in 2000, and as we make plans for the big event, we feel her absence heavily. We should be sharing this experience with her, but we can't, which quite frankly sucks.

Well, I'm back, and I'm feeling a little bloated today (yeah, TMI, deal with it!); so in that vein, I present this week's screamingly funny SCTV Moment of Zen. Have a great weekend!


Friday, February 16, 2007

SCTV Moment of Zen

Happy Friday!

Today I'm sharing one of my all-time favorite SCTV skits, Just For Fun. Eugene Levy is Stan "The Man" Canter, a smarmy talk show host. I really need to take a moment to bitch about how Levy's genius comic talents have not been properly put to use in Hollywood. I'm sorry, but hiring the man to play backup for the Olsen twins is utter sacrilege.

Andrea Martin is Indira Gandhi, Joe Flaherty is a dead-on William Buckley, and the always brilliant Martin Short has former Canadian Prime Minister Pierre Trudeau down pat. My favorite line - "Last call for lunatic liberals and their third-world girlfriends!"


Wednesday, February 14, 2007

Happy Singles Appreciation Day!

Your Pickup Line Is

Are you a parking ticket? Because you have FINE written all over you

Monday, February 12, 2007

Sexual stealing

Wowee. Delusion, thy name is Steve Horner. God, I love The Daily Show.

Hat tip: Feministing.

Friday, February 09, 2007

Fan mail

Dear readers, it is utterly delicious to receive comments and emails from all of you. Few things in life please me more than opening my inbox to find fresh feedback! After a year of blogging, I'm still stunned that this humble site has attracted regular readers from all over the globe. I do try to take a little time out of each week to reply to everyone who writes, even when the feedback isn't particularly flattering. Of course, I always reply in my own sardonic little way.

In that vein, I'd like to give a public play-by-play reply to "Anonymous," who took time out of his undoubtedly busy porn-surfing schedule to explain what he thinks is the cause of my single status. Apparently, Anon had an allergic reaction to this post, which I had thought was a fairly lighthearted musing.

We all know why you avoid married.

I haven't avoided marriage, I've just avoided marrying guys who were wrong for me. Most of the men I know don't really want to be married to women who don't want to be married to them. I know it's not the natural state of affairs for a woman to have a say in her life partner...those fucking feminazis and their man-hating women's liberation agenda have ruined romance for everybody!

Seriously. It consistently amazes me how, whenever a female blogger expresses doubts about marriage as an institution, some troll pops up to tell her that SHE IS A MAN HATER WHO WANTS TO RUIN HUMAN CIVILIZATION!!! I confess! Yes, you have uncovered my master plan! Insert evil laugher here!

You see, because you are GINGER, 34 and live in LA.

Good work, Captain Obvious, you read my profile! You're not illegitimate...er, illiterate!

No wonder, you only attract FREAKS.

Well, of course that's not all I attract, but this site isn't called Diary of a Viggo Mortensen Clone Magnet.

No good guys would waste their time with a superficial person.

Which good guys? This one? This one? How about this one? You know whose time those guys were wasting? MINE.

One sex partner is not enough for you.

Despite what your porn collection would have you believe, most women can only accommodate one man at a time. Besides which, it's the 21st century. Some of us females have the audacity - the audacity, I tell you! - to sample a few specimens from the male population before we settle on one to keep for our very own. Guys have been doing that since...um...the beginning of time?

And....speaking of Ginger, too many cheap porn stars named Ginger. Very sleazy name......

I knew it! Aaah, the sweet smell of roasting troll. I'm salivating! If you must know, that's not my real name. The nickname was given to me during Halloween 2001. A group of friends wanted to go to a party as the cast of Gilligan's Island. They already had their Gilligan, Skipper, Professor, Mr. Howell and Mary Anne...I was recruited to play the famous redhead. The nickname stuck. Just because a woman has, or takes on, that name doesn't mean she works in the sex trade. Way to make misogynistic, stereotype-influenced assumptions, MORON.

Your mind is so twisted.

Well, you've got me there...

Throw away the bullshit and get real!

Physician, heal thyself.

You don't know yourself.

Oh, but I know you, my sweet little Anon. You're the guy who's bought into the idea that men are naturally superior to women - it's science! - and you so desperately want someone to lord over and disdain. The thought of a woman running her own life, independent of male influence that she doesn't invite, makes you just apoplectic with rage, doesn't it? Deep breaths, baby, deep breaths. Stress can kill, you know.

You don't believe in married because married would give you a virus called PUSSY ANXIETY.

Oh, honey. The only thing that would make my pussy anxious is the idea of you being anywhere near her. I'd sooner plug her up with cement.

By the way, white is good color. It is funeral color in India, but you don't live in India.

Once again, your astute perception of the obvious leaves me stunned. I could make a few parallels regarding wedding dresses and white as a funeral color, but I think that Rodney Dangerfield cornered the market on marriage=death jokes.

You are boring and predictable, Ginger.

And you are a sad little man whose only source of female companionship is Backdoor Sluts 9.

Look at your self in the mirror, and ask "Am I try to be someone else I am not ?"

Look at your self in the mirror, and ask, "Should I be on Prozac, Xanax, or Zoloft?"

You lie to yourself, Ginger.

I don't lie, and from your reaction, I can see that the truth hurts. Be on your way now. Kisses!

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SCTV Moment of Zen

Hear ye, hear ye! My humble blog will henceforth have a weekly feature, called the SCTV Moment of Zen.

SCTV is one of the best shows that ever aired; a good chunk of my favorite actor/comedians (Martin Short, Eugene Levy, Catherine O'Hara, Rick Moranis, John Candy) are alums of that show. I particularly adore Rick Moranis and Martin Short, who are just adorable and who I basically want to squeeze to death.

I am a quirky bitch with exquisite taste, so naturally I think that Strange Brew is one of the greatest movies ever made. I first watched it on HBO in my grandmother's rented beach house in Montauk, NY, one summer back in the mid-80s. It was not a good summer for your faithful writer. The parental units were going through a rough patch; tension in the house was rather thick. To further sweeten the deal, Yours Truly was in the full throes of puberty (i.e. miserable all day, every day). Besides the gorgeous beach and ocean, Strange Brew was the highlight of my trip; my dad and I spent the night on the couch laughing nonstop. I've seen that movie about 100 times since then, and I laugh harder every time. Beauty.

Doug McKenzie: I am your father, Luke. Give in to the dark side of the force, you knob.
Bob McKenzie: He saw Jedi 17 times, eh.

Those of you who are not familiar with the Mckenzie Brothers, who were created by Rick Moranis and Dave Thomas, need to rent all of the SCTV box sets, ASAP. You'll thank me later. Strange Brew is also pretty easy to find, and definitely worth a rental.

Till then, here is your SCTV moment of zen. Enjoy, hoseheads!


Monday, February 05, 2007

A "scientific" analysis of freak-magnetude

Some dude has a humorous approach to the whole freak magnet phenomenon. Maybe he can explain why I once got an email from a reader calling me a "vortex of magnetic energy." Says he:

A freak magnet, at least according to those who claim to be one, is someone with an unnatural ability to attract crazy people. You’re likely to dismiss the ‘freak magnet’ phenomenon as a bunch of cat ladies bragging about how much attention they get - namely because they go out of their way to get the attention. We all know girls ( and, let’s be honest, it’s always girls*) who go out of their way to make eye contact with men only to pretend surprise when the men talk to them. The uglier the girl, the lower she will go. I have one friend who makes eye contact with a homeless guy that smells like urine and has a fake eyeball which is really just a ping-pong ball and a pupil he drew on it with a Sharpie. I’d have believed she didn’t want the attention until I found out she gave him the Sharpie.

Funny, that. Personally, I do not own a cat, and the freak magnet label has been lobbed at me so many times that I just got tired of dodging it. As to the idea that I actually seek out the weirdos who come my way, I can only say:

Are you kidding? Riddle me this, Mr. Scientist:

About a year ago, a very good friend of mine required emergency hospitalization for a dangerous infection. The hospital in which she was staying was very close to my apartment; I could walk there in five minutes. So, I called her every day, asking if I could bring her anything. She was quarantined for about three days, but I was able to visit on the fourth day.

It was a Saturday afternoon. I headed to a neighborhood convenience store and bought nutrition bars (hospital food sucks), a few magazines, juice boxes, and baby wipes (she couldn't leave her bed, and therefore couldn't shower). I then headed over to the hospital on foot.

I was on the sidewalk, carrying my bag and looking straight ahead. Nobody was around. An out of service bus was parked on my side of the street, between two parking garages. I thought nothing of it.

When I got close to the front cab of the bus, I heard a voice say, "Get in."

I turned, slightly startled; the voice was coming from the bus. The door was open, and for the first time, I noticed the figure of a man inside.

As dumb as this is going to sound, at first I thought that he was volunteering to drive me to the main building. "Oh, no thanks," I said cheerfully. "I don't have much farther to go."

He took two steps down the stairs. "Get in," he repeated, in a flat voice. He had an unblinking stare. Something felt very off (ya think?). I backed up.

"No, thanks!" I said loudly. Why isn't anybody else around? He had one foot on the pavement now, the other still on the stair. He stared as I walked away, and at first I thought he'd follow, but a car pulled out of the garage and I skirted around it. He was still staring as I turned the corner. Weirdo.

I want Mr. Scientist to explain that one. I also want to know, why go after cats? Why is that an insult, anyway? Leave the poor kitties alone. They help fight evil!

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"If I could say it in words there would be no reason to paint." – Edward Hopper

You Are Expressionism

Moody, emotional, and even a bit angsty... you certainly know how to express your emotions.

At times, you tend to lack perspective on your life, probably as a result of looking inward too much.

This introspection does give you a flair for the dramatic. And it's even maybe made you cultivate some artistic talents!

You have a true artist's temperament... which is a blessing and a curse.


Is it me, or was that the most boring Super Bowl ever? I had such high hopes in the first quarter, but by the beginning of the fourth quarter, I was asleep on my hosts' couch. Luckily I spent the afternoon with good friends, and Prince put on a helluva halftime show, so it wasn't a total loss. I wasn't rooting for a particular team, but had hoped it would be a tense, close game. Not so much, and I was annoyed. I'm of the mind that professional athletes are overpaid, overexposed and don't give enough back to society, so they'd damn well better entertain.

The best Super Bowls I've ever seen were XXXVI (Pats/Rams) and XXV (Giants/Bills). I went to college deep in Bills territory from '90-'94; during my college career, I watched the Bills go to the Super Bowl four years in a row - and lose four years in a row. It became like a running joke, but the Bills fans that I lived with didn't think it was funny. In fact, they'd get visibly upset, because I was a "downstater" who was dissing their team. The Bills are a full-fledged religion in western New York. Apart from Red Sox fans, I've never (personally) seen such slavish devotion to a team. After every loss, the entire campus would be in mourning. When the Giants met the Bills in SB XXXVI, the animosity between the "upstaters" and "downstaters" got ugly. My door was vandalized; I was called a "bandwagon" Giants fan. I heard that there were (alcohol-fueled) fisticuffs elsewhere in my dorm. Those of us who didn't even care about football started rooting for the Giants, just to piss off the Bills fans who whined that their beloved team should win because "they had more heart." Heart doesn't win a game, people; goals do. When Norwood missed that field goal with seconds left, the unified screams of shellshocked Bills fans reverberated throughout the dorm in one cacaphonous boom straight out of Dante's Inferno. Great game, because it was a nailbiter; also, Whitney Houston (pre-crack whore) rocked the Star Spangled Banner.

After the Bills' fourth loss in '94, signs popped up on campus that said "Strive for Five." Oh, it was a little pathetic, but I've always admired tenacity. The Bills have always had better fans than players.

SB XXXVI is my personal favorite, though. Played as close as you can get, and one of the biggest upsets in sports history. I was living in Boston at the time; when Vinateri squeezed out that final field goal just as time expired, I think the entire state went nuts. I drove home to Brighton from Charlestown, and got caught in Kenmore Square for an hour; the square was teeming with about 7,000 fans screaming, hanging from lightposts, and crying on each other.

The commercials are generally the most entertaining part of the Super Bowl, but even they were lackluster this year. I saw a lot of commercials that had already aired, and it felt like CBS had snatched most of the airtime to promote its shows. Bo-ring. I did like this commercial, though, just for its absurdity. It reminded me of this SNL skit with Will Ferrell. This one was also pretty funny (and impressive), since a college student came up with it as part of a contest sponsored by Chevy.

Finally, crabs! This one is my personal favorite.

1980s redux

Does my headband make you horny, baby?

This video had me in hysterics this morning. I'm so, so grateful that I graduated high school in 1990; I was only a wee child in the 70s, so I'm automatically absolved of responsibility regarding any unfortunate prints or patterns I might have worn. I did wear headbands and legwarmers in the 80s, but I was a dumb teenager; making bad fashion choices is a natural result of unbalanced hormones. Besides which, Flashdance had been a huge hit; Jennifer Beals was the JLo of the 80s. I was so innocent that I thought "Let's Get Physical" was actually about people burning off dinner at a gym. Man. You can only (afford to) be that innocent once.

I sported some big time big hair in the 90s, but so did everybody who grew up in downstate NY. My sister's bangs were teased so high, I used to tell her that the back of her head looked like a peacock's ass. I couldn't get my fine hair to stay up, no matter how much Aqua Net I used, so I skipped bangs and went all-out with a tight spiral-curl perm. I couldn't comb it, and could only wash it every other day. I swear to god, I would lose small earrings in that mop, and find them days later when I washed my hair again.

Anyway. I love this video not only because it lampoons 80s fashion, but because it specifically pokes fun at the T and A grindfests that 80s exercise videos were. Before Jane Fonda, exercising was all about Teh Sex, not about actually being, you know, healthy. I bet my grandchildren will laugh about Cardio Striptease the way I laughed at this.


Friday, February 02, 2007

Friday night timesuck

Modern technology has a purpose: to make life longer, happier, healthier and safer for humanity. It has also resulted in millions of stupid ways for said humanoids to waste time. Bonus!

Case in point: The Face Transformer. I could go crazy with this thing. Here are my favorites:

The Modigliani:

The Manga:

The baby!

Scary. It looks like a flesh-eating zombie child from Night of the Living Dead. Try it! You can also see what you'd look like as a different race. Pretty cool.

Hat tip: Shakespeare's Sister.

Thursday, February 01, 2007

Just for fun

Your Fortune Is

Man who drop watch in toilet bound to have shitty time.


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