Dec 15, 2008

No no yes no I am frazzled can I drink eggnog now...

Yeah... holiday season is stressing me out. First, I've come to learn that St. Louis is NOT on the same latitude as Virginia. In fact, it's gloomy and FREEZING. Always. The thermometer not crawling above 17 F all day is unacceptable. My car froze three times already this week, meaning it was impossible to enter, exit, or unlock. And while I'm complaining about St. Louis, here's a message for the 5 or more homeless people that walk in front of my car on four lane roads daily: get the hell out of the street, and stop wearing a black coat if you're black while walking in the dark. NO ONE CAN SEE YOU. You aren't hunting. Camouflage is unnecessary in major cities, dipshits.
I'm ready to go home for almost 2 weeks. But in the meantime, I will laugh because someone threw shoes at George Bush. And pout because he ducked. And I will drink my 3.99 Trader Joes wine and finish my knitting while Brandon studies for all of his finals.
And I will NOT be going shopping anymore. I spent a good 4 hours getting that knocked out, and now that I am in debt and have accidently wrapped all of our presents in blue and white hannukah wrapping, I will think nothing of Christmas until it occurs.
I also will not be entertaining Brandon's extravagant plans for a 50" tv come January. Especially after reading this. 6 months? really...?

Dec 9, 2008

Pandora's Delinquent Younger Brother: PandoraJam

Everyone knows about Pandora. Everyone who does not live in a double wide and who isn't over 65. Pandora is your at-work best friend, and an awesome FREE way to acquire decent taste in music by learning new artists and songs that are similar to the ones you already like. Pandora is radio for smart people, and it's one of the best things ever invented. You can create a bajillion stations, so you can always change your mind throughout the day and listen to trash for 15 minutes before returning to your quest for unique, fulfilling music. I would rate Pandora only slightly less necessary to my day than facebook. YEP.
Well, I may be completely out of the loop here, but I recently found out about a Pandora client (they officially have "no affiliation" with Pandora, though surprisingly operate with the exact interface and can pull up your account and all its stations) named PandoraJam. PandoraJam is another way to avoid paying 99 measly cents to iTunes, and it works by simply recording anything that you play via your Pandora stations. You can skip songs a maximum amount of times like Pandora, and you can't go back or repeat songs, but such is stealing wonderful music. PandoraJam even takes the liberty of naming your new songs and throwing them into iTunes for you. How sweet. 
Enjoy PandoraJam while it lasts; I'm assuming it's due for a sizable law suit.

Dec 8, 2008

Suck it Bible Belt


My friend took this picture on her way back from a Program Retreat for Wash U. I think it may be one of the best works of vandalism I've ever seen.

Thanks Nicole.


Also, to whoever made this billboard: If I wanted to be talked out of an abortion, wouldn't you want to make yourself a little more available by putting your phone number in a legible font size?

Go God.

But... I WANT MORE INEXPENSIVE SWEDISH HOME FURNISHINGS!

This just in: IKEA has lost cool points with Jessi. IKEA is one of my favorite places to go, as long as I wake up in a mood good enough to brave the crowded warehouse full of thousands of things i want/ can afford. There is nothing better.
Unfortunately, the Swedes have made the terrible mistake of not offering wedding registries online or at any of the US IKEA locations, except for one in California, which I assume was demanded by the gays. Can we get some gays in St. Louis please? Or at least an IKEA? That would be refreshing, thanks.
I would be willing to put my entire wedding registry at IKEA, if they would have me. Not even online? Really, IKEA? I LOVE putting things together, and half the gift would be using the included Allen wrench. And our families could buy us more stuff, as it's all incredibly cheap. We could even register for frozen Swedish cream puffs. One stop shop.
Super fail, IKEA. Super fail. I won't be walking in the direction of the arrows next time I visit you. I'm rebelling until you let me register. And I'm not buying a hot dog on my way out, either.

Dec 7, 2008

Continued... blog doesn't like lots of my beautiful photos


This is Britney chair dancing next to what appears to be a tranny, as to make her look lean and curvy in a womanly way.

The tranny is very large, and the shot even isn't centered. This is a comparison shot: and you fell for it. Ps, tranny's face is never clearly visible.



This is the most awkward part of the video, where Britney does more weird 90's gang shit, and brushes her coke nose or something. But she does it in this strange way that makes her look like a 13 year old girl doing the Jay-Z rap in Heartbreaker.




And this is Ambular from Clueless, yes?







There are a few things I didn't include. If you'd like to scope out these things on your own time, you may. Look for: Brit with a lion, Brit with 2 lions, a reoccurring mysterious black man/ black man in drag, Backstreet Boy choreo, a shameless plug for Britney's fragrances, hand rolling, unnecessary fire.

All sarcasm and scrutiny aside, Brit's back. Be an American, show some support and bust out your midriff come spring.

How many times have YOU watched the Circus video?


Hey Y'all. Brit's back. I hate to disappoint those of you who have spent months talking about how she got what she deserved, she's a crazy bitch, omg she shaved her head, etc etc. You were wrong in assuming she'd never make her triumphant return. And now, she probably won't have sex with you. Well she might. I don't know her. 
In case you haven't watched the Circus video, I have taken the liberty of saving some screen captures of the most interesting points in the video, and will be revealing to you the secrets of Britney's freaksh- AHEM... COMEBACK... bitches.




First, this is Britney being breathed on by a man who resembles K-Fed, only less trashy. The lack of cleave in this video is daunting, but is easily silenced by the corny 90's street dance seen here:
This is Britney rubbing her hands together, about to bust out some old school Will Smith shit. See video for more evidence.




This is a costume mishap. Wouldn't you love to be the girl whose costume did this
 mid-Britney video? She's ashamed.





This is Britney as Roxie Hart/ Britney's 
writers stealing ideas from award-winning films




Dec 4, 2008

Pole Dancing: not just for single moms!

Congratulations, self. You have a bachelors degree, and successfully double-majored in four years. You are so smart, well-rounded, motivated. You may now enter the real world, find a job, pay bills, and feed your kitten. You may also participate in pole-dancing class, because you now have the free time. And you're getting a bit pudgy.
Next January, I will begin a new fitness routine. This time, however, I will not become bored with it. I will become a recreational pole dancer. I will be registering for a class once a week, very close to my apartment, taught by a professional (read: hot slut) pole dancer. YESSSSS. They encourage wearing many layers, as we will be learning how to seductively remove articles. I hope they teach me how to get off shirts without getting them stuck on my head, or pants without having to do that awkward kick thing. Those would be real world skills I need.
Stripper shoes are a necessity, and I am more than excited to try on some plastic 7 inch heels. Tara Reid, eat your heart out. What I really can't wait for is seeing who else is interested in learning how to pole dance in the middle of the city of St. Louis. I am definitely planning to bring some antibacterial wipes to sanitize my pole after the shar jackson lookalike takes her turn. And by turn, I mean half-turn followed by graceful swan dive into the floor. I am positively giddy and counting down the days. 

Dec 3, 2008

Men are children, but sometimes that's great.

I will begin this post by admitting that all women are absolutely insane. If you find a woman who disagrees, she's either drunk, a very jaded lesbian, or a combination of both. We are crazy. And that is why you love us. We are complicated, opinionated, and generally unstable. BUT WE ARE USUALLY RIGHT. Admit it. And we're pretty and we smell good.
To leave it at that would be unfair, and all of my girlfriends would leave nasty comments about how I am a traitor to my gender. Fear not, bitches. I live with a 23 year old PhD student, and every day he does/suggests something that I probably would not have considered as a pre-teen. Not only does he still take a pregnant pause at Spongebob while channel surfing, he will use totally incorrect catchphrases like "You're obsessed about that" and "You could hear a needle drop".
While much of this is slightly agitating, it really is quite cute when you consider many of the other childish things men do. They spill things and have no comprehension of "clean" or "tidy". I've also found that asking Brandon to scrub a particularly crusty pan will result in my finding the same pan a day later full of water and soap suds. In these instances, there is almost always bickering over whether or not the pan needed actually be soaked, or if Brandon did not feel like scrubbing it at that time. Usually I end up cleaning it myself, but there is always a sense of cozy motherhood associated with these things.
Men are also like children in that they surprise you, and provide genuine support almost all the time. Just today I was complaining about how cold it was, and how badly I have seasonal mood disorder. For those of you who still have habitats on the east coast, enjoy your sunlight. It never comes here. Brandon told me he had a surprise waiting when I came home from work. Lo and behold, fiance got me 10 tans at the local tan salon to ease my Vitamin D withdrawal symptoms. HOW SWEET. Really though, men are so strange sometimes, but deep down they are so much easier to read than women.
For men, life is simple. You get up, do your shit, don't do your shit, go to bed. You either like someone or you don't. You are mad or you are not. You're hungry or you're not. You love someone or you don't. I would die to know how it would be to live like that. Last night I was winding down, getting ready for bed, and I heard Brandon playing Xbox live with what I assume were a bunch of 13 year old boys.
"Oh yeah, f*** you duuuude. I'll ROTATE my d*** in your a**...WHATEVER MAN YOU SUCK..."
Ahhh the life. To harass kids in another state that are almost half your age over an imaginary battle. And I bet he enjoyed it. And that was the highlight of his day. A video game... against pre-pubescent strangers.
I love men. I really do. They are so mysterious. But unlike women, who are mysterious in an obnoxious "i will deprive you of my sex until you figure me out bad boy" way, men are mysterious because they are like children: you never know what they will say, what they might break, and why they don't understand that you can't wear black sweatpants with a brown dress shirt.

Nov 30, 2008

I Heart the Holidays

While in Cincinnati celebrating Thanksgiving with Brandon's family, I had the unique pleasure of visiting a Christmas tree farm. You would be correct in your assumption that our family was pretty much the only one that did not include someone who still watches Nickelodeon. Don't worry. It was tons of fun. 
There was this lovely old barn full of overpriced Christmas crap that you can bet every Mom there NEEDED to walk through after pawning her kid off on Dad to go look at the REAL REINDEER (those things still weird me out). There was a whole room full of nativity scenes, tons of ornaments, decorations, and a life-sized nativity! O-M-G! While browsing this array of festive garbage, I made mental notes of Christmas decorations I would actually be interested in buying and displaying in my home. (A tree is fine, but just about anything other than that screams 'I have a 3 year old and Santy's coming, or... I'm going through menopause, and SANTA DOES EXIST HE IS MAGICAL GODDAMMIT someone talk to me!')
Wow. Now that that's out of the way, here is my list of desired holiday decor:
1. A tree-topping angel that flew into the empire state building, impaling her and her delicate wings
2. A Santa figurine wearing a Lynard Skynard t-shirt, shitfaced holding a beer
3. The baby Jesus in any position that does NOT reflect the demeanor of a used car salesman. A thumbs up would be preferable, and if we're getting really picky, he didn't have blue eyes and blond hair you Nazis.
4. Any nativity scene with a token black guy disguised as a wiseman. This would be especially great if the wise man was a dead ringer for Morgan Freeman, but that may be asking too much. ALSO- LESS LAMBS. It isn't even breeding season for lambs. It's cold?
5. A "Joseph the carpenter"-inspired at-home Paternity test.  "IT AIN'T MINE!!!"
6. A Santa hat embroidered with the McCain/Palin logo.

Happy Holidays!

Nov 27, 2008

Cute Child Stars that Ended Up Not so Cute


Some child celebrities make it through adolescence without morphing into fugly adults. Drew Barrymore, cute as a button in ET, still managed to be a Charlie's Angel in the remake. (Keep in mind she WAS the least attractive of the triumvirate) The Olsen twins are mildly attractive in their own weird, "i slit my wrists" way, but by wearing uber-trendy, fashionista clothes, they manage to still exude strange, pubescent/ transitory sex appeal. A few adorable children were not so lucky.

1. Topanga from Boy Meets World
She hosts her own celeb gossip show now that pales in comparison to Joel McHale's, making her look like she has the sense of humor of a high school guidance counselor. I wanted to BE her until she grew boobs, and then immediately ecame a blimp. On more than one occasion, I thought she was going to reveal to the Matthews that Corey had gotten her pregnant. That would have been very forward thinking on ABC's part, and would have made Jamie Lynn Spears look like a huge poser.

2. Haley Joel Osment
Yikes. The Secondhand Lions movie he made with those old geezers definitely brought attention to the negative affects puberty was having on his career/ face. Didn't he also get arrested? Fail.

3. Raven Simone
That's so.... unfortunate. I'm not going to say any more; that bitch could lay me out. And then Bill Cosby and I could never be friends.

Nov 25, 2008

Thanksgiving. Okay.


So Thanksgiving is Thursday, and I happen to not be as huge a fan of this holiday as many. Maybe that is because I am not an overweight, gluttonous American obsessed with "catching up" with family by repeating mindless, 6-word oversimplifications of what I am currently doing. I also think football is a violent, classless excuse for a sport. Among other things.
Thanksgiving, in my opinion, is also poorly placed throughout the year (don't I have to see all these people again in a month anyway?) and not even useful. Except for drawing names for Christmas presents. That shit's important. To be honest, I spend half of Thanksgiving trying to bogart the babies so I won't have to talk to anyone.
Actually, now that I think about it, there is one thing about Thanksgiving that is great: watching my grandmother get drunk. Everything else about it is anti-climactic: listening to your cousin rattle on about the mindless joyride they're having as a sophomore in college, getting really tired from turkey/wine, and thinking about all the things you could be doing, including stalking people on facebook, painting angry watercolors, and playing text twist.
Thanksgiving is a terrible holiday. I am thankful every day of the year; why should I have to play grabass for a whole day and night to show it? No, Auntie, I don't want to try your crazy quiche, and how many times must I repeat myself about not sampling all of the horrible things on the dessert table? GIRL IS PICKY. Give it up.
And please don't get me started about the indian/pilgrim thing. Thanks for the smallpox bitches. I'm ordering a pizza. Happy Thanksgiving. See you in four weeks.

Nov 21, 2008

There are too many pasta variants.

 Since recently entering the realm of adulthood, and learning to do many things on my own such as cooking, paying bills, and fending off persistent (and sometimes quite creative) peddlers, I have uncovered many secrets.
The first: carry cash. Although I have never been an avid cash carrier, and have generally pegged all cash carriers to be either parental or associated with recreational drugs, I have learned that it is of great importance when navigating a city, trying to park, and trying to buy chinese food at a hole in the wall that apparently does not accept cards in the year of our lord, or the dragon, 2008.
The second is a much more complicated lesson involving what is commonly referred to as "pasta." Our scholarly friend Wikipedia describes pasta as "a generic term for Italian variants of noodles." Wikipedia also tells us that "there are approximately 350 shapes of pasta." UMMMMM..Ok, so I've spent the last 22 years sampling spaghetti, ziti, sometimes some bowties (or farfalle as I have also learned) for good measure. This is going to sound crazy, but just recently I discovered that there is absolutely no difference between any of these 350 shapes. WHAT?? In my opinion, this means that the Italians spent entirely too much time with their little play-doh machines, calling to one another when they discovered yet another crazy thing to put tomato sauce on.
"Giovanni! Come quick! I have made one that even smaller than the smallest elbow noodle! It will be incredibly popular!"
"Bravo, mio fratello!" (that means bravo, my brother- thank you google translator; google makes tons of money maybe I'll write about that later.) Then Giovanni and his brother embrace, slap each other on the back, and watch some soccer.
So yeah, there's 350 types of pasta. There probably aren't even 350 types of sauce to put on them. Well, maybe. That's too mathematical to get into. What it comes down to is this: why? WHY would you make that many different types of one thing if you're just going to chew it up anyway? In my experiences, the only difference between any pastas is that some of them are easier to stab with my fork than others.

Nov 19, 2008

I got my Christmas Tree before Thanksgiving.

This is a very grainy photograph of our beautiful Christmas tree. And Darwin. And a lot of cords. I apologize in advance for writing a blog about the new addition to our living room, but I felt so inclined. And I'm hoping to spread some premature holiday cheer.
This particular Christmas tree is of the "Charlie Brown" variety, meaning it is sparse, gangly, skinny-trunked, and generally adolescent-looking. All of these things are an attempt to make up for the fact that it artificial. I believe it is working.
I decided (I being the important word here) to pick up this beautiful piece of synthetic sexiness at an establishment I have recently been introduced to. It is a place called Hobby Lobby, and it is a warehouse full of glorious crafty things, all on sale for less than Wal-Mart would ever dare to price them. And you don't have to feel guilty, because you're not at Wal-Mart. 
Brandon frowned upon my hasty decision to put up this majestic, ornamented beauty, repeating phrases like "It's not even Thanksgiving!" To this, I responded simply,
"Brandon, we are going home for Christmas on the 18th. And if you include going back to Cincinnati for Thanksgiving, that is barely three weeks we will have with this precious holiday essential." 
Maybe my answer wasn't that elaborate, and maybe I ignored the vast majority of his questions, but I like the tree. And Darwin certainly likes the tree. And I have a good feeling that the homeless people walking past our window (which lacks blinds because Brandon broke them a month ago) like the tree. Who knows, maybe they do not have the means to celebrate anything this year? Maybe they'll be coming to peer nostalgically in our window next month. I mean, the economy IS tanking. 
Ok, back to this tree and from whence it came: HOBBY LOBBY is a mecca of awesome crap that all women would enjoy. Even those who prefer, say... guns.. to fabric and knitting needles. My future father-in-law is known to visit Hobby Lobby multiple times a week, and many times he suggests outings to Hobby Lobby simply just to browse new or seasonal merchandise. There is fake shrubbery, framing, and aisles and aisles of glorious stuff. I know what you're thinking (if you haven't already decided I am weird for never having frequented a Hobby Lobby): this place sounds just like Michael's. YOU would be wrong. This place is six times the size of any Michael's I have ever seen, and you know those stupid baskets full of baskets, and rows of infomercial crap no one ever buys? Hobby Lobby does not partake in such nonsense. Hobby Lobby is respectable, and I fully recommend buying your Christmas tree (the earlier, the better) from this wonderful place.

My Fiance Plays the Harmonica

So Brandon has taken up the harmonica, and I have come to the conclusion that this would be a terrific new hobby for someone who does not have a roommate/ does not know anything about music. He mastered Mary Had a Little Lamb within 30 minutes, and has since been playing some delightful, Dylan-worthy tunes. 
Unfortunately, he thinks it is necessary to play the instrument with enough lung power to fill a blow-up mattress in one breath. In fact, a blow-up mattress might be good right about now, as I always feel as if I am on a charming little camping trip with a Tennessee woodsman.

Seriously though, the harmonica is kind of cool in that it is portable, easily repaired and incredibly inexpensive. It also apparently has very little effect on animals, if that is a requirement for your household. Baby Darwin the precious kitten has not responded at all to Brandon's incessant blowing, although he is easily perturbed by the sight and sound of anyone cooking. On a slightly unrelated note, he has scaled the Christmas Tree about 27 times already.
I really don't have much else to say about the harmonica. Hopefully within a few months Brandon will have transformed into a skinny old black man with a trendy hat playing harmonica with a blues band. Maybe.

Nov 12, 2008

First Post

This is my first post, and here are some things it will not include:
  • my life story
  • the reason I created a blog/journal/thing
  • an amusing poem, specifically a haiku about the homeless man outside my apartment
  • a funny story about my kitten ending in an anecdote about how i saved his life
  • political opinion
  • a youtube link to charlie bit me or the evil eye baby
  • rambling about missing college/my youth/my family/the east coast/ukrops
  • the screenplay/libretto I wrote about young adult angst
  • a detailed replay of my day, including what I had for brunch (breakfast implies early rising), and long-winded, anti-climactic tales of mundane daily activities
So there. That's what I'm not doing. Here's what I am doing for my introductory, exciting, blog virginity losing post:

The Pangaean navy would have had virtually NO competition. BOOYA