Dec 30, 2012

Stars in Danger: OF STEALING MY HEART!

I'm not going to tell you this is going to be the greatest show of all time but I will tell you it has the greatest title of all time. Does this mean it's a series? That we can look forward to more stars in perilous situations in the future? Stars in Danger: Jet Skiing the Bering Strait! Stars in Danger: Free Climbing Mt. Rushmore! Stars in Danger: Supersonic Free Fall From Space! And why don't we just call all these Skating/Dancing with the Stars shows what they really are: Circus of the Stars.  What, is that show title too degrading now? Because I think Stars in Danger: The High Dive is serious shame spiral material. But I do very much enjoy that the "star" participants seem to take all these shows extremely seriously with the training and competitiveness and validation from late-night and early-morning TV interviewers clamoring to chat with them because Robin Williams is too busy or whatever.

And can you believe these folks were actually on Circus of the Stars?

Jane Birkin
Ed Asner
Lloyd Bridges
Sammy Davis Jr.
Jamie Lee Curtis
Merv Griffin
James Earl Jones
Rock Hudson
Bob Newhart
Alex Trebek
Lana Turner

Groupon should probably stop promoting anything that does not pertain to Glamour Shots boudoir photography.

Best thing to hit my inbox today. Save 81% on boudoir photos of me clutching a rhinestone-studded denim jacket with a popped collar and wearing a fedora while posing suggestively near a styrofoam Greek column? Sign me up! It is so obviously plausible that Glamour Shots has proven itself time and time again with providing the most flattering makeup and hair and lighting and clothing and props that they have forged ahead into staking their claim in the highly lucrative boudoir photography market. There is nothing that can possibly go terribly, terribly awry with this at all.

(Click here for photo shoot ideas.)

"Sanitized for your protection"

You know what will never biodegrade? Anything made by Little Tikes. You can literally take any item they have ever made, leave it outside exposed to the elements for 30 years, let 500 children play with it and beat on it with tree limbs and roll it down a street lined with hot tar and nails and have dogs chew and pee on it, and it will still look and function exactly as it did the day you bought it, except the colors will be a little faded. America should just stop trying to design its own cars made of old sardine tins and let the Little Tikes factory start churning out family size Cozy Coupes. That stuff is built to last, no joke.  And some day when our current civilization is long gone, a new civilization will discover massive landfills of plastic kitchens and jungle gyms and self-propelled cars with princess license plates. And I'm sure this new civilization will think there once existed two warring factions in the world: the giants with their magnificent tall buildings and the small people who chose to reside in tiny plastic homes that never had a floor, a roof or more than three walls but that were well-stocked with plastic shopping carts filled with plastic vegetables and hotdogs.

One of my favorite books is Motel of the Mysteries which basically is about this very topic. Several thousand years from now, an amateur archeologist discovers the old civilization of Usa which met its demise when it became buried under too much direct mail.  The archeologist finds himself in what he believes to be a tomb with many odd funerary details and hilarity ensues (but really, hilarity does ensue, you should hunt down this book).

Dec 29, 2012

Some gals pine for vintage clothes but I pine for vintage men.

Ever checked out Bangable Dudes in History? Not yet? Well, check it out.  Totally SFW, I promise. The best of both worlds (if the two worlds in your life consist of photos of hot, historic, deceased gentlemen and pie charts). Lots of real hot famous gentlemen. And if you happen to find young Joseph Stalin attractive, and I'm not saying you will, or that I do specifically, but if you do, I mean, I just want you to know it's okay, you know, because I'm not the boner police or anything, and I've heard that other people have found him a total babe and have then questioned their morals and sanity but that's just what I've heard, about other people, so, you know, just keep that in mind in case you find him attractive and then feel real badly about yourself. Just know I've heard other people have felt that way.

By the way, here is my favorite bangable deceased dude. His portrait hangs on the wall of a courtroom where he sat as a judge. There were like 12 old portraits of men that all looked like William Howard Taft and then this guy so I was all, "Who snuck Kevin Coster up here?" I wanted to steal this portrait so bad but figured committing a crime inside of an actual courthouse was just too much of a shortcut to jail.


Dec 20, 2012

Dear Jessica Simpson: You make dresses that fit my body perfectly how is it that you do that do you measure me while I'm sleeping and then subliminally tell me to run to my nearest Marshall's and buy them?

Look, I don't have anything against Jessica. She's beautiful. She can sing. She is funny without trying to be. She has lucious hair and loves to fart. She gets to hang out with Donald Faison AND a nephew named Bronx Mowgli. So, obviously, many reasons to be jealous. But what I cannot understand is this new Weight Watchers commercial. I really don't understand any WW commercial, for that matter. There's always some weird, emotional song with a woman ooooohhing and ahhhhing and lalalalaing in a bunch of octaves in the background.  And the spokesperson, I believe, is required to spin in at least one complete circle with her arms out OR she has to wear a Herve Leger bandage dress. And always boobs. Lots of boobs must be present at all times.

I find it difficult to believe that Jessica would be wearing a low-slung concho belt so casually in this day and age. I mean, I live in Texas but we don't just wear the concho out everyday with our jeans after jumping out of our old farm truck where our dog has nearly flown though the windshield when we slammed on the brakes (see also: video below). That's a formal-wear belt. You wear it to the rodeo or in a family photo taken while everyone is posed around a rusted-out old farm truck parked near some cedar trees.

And poor, beautiful, talented Jennifer Hudson. I don't get her commercials either. They make her sing AND point at the audience AND super emote so you really feel the freedom and power of weight loss or whatever. Nobody wants to be directed on how to sing a song about losing weight with sincerity. I just read some Lena Dunham quote about how it's impossible to appear smart in People magazine but you'll appear friendly and I'm pretty sure that translates to these WW commercials. And I mean, I get it. I've had two kids and gone to college. I know about eating at Subway twice in three hours and how much better it feels when you lose the ell bees. But this specific genre of female empowerment via awful songs (that I do not doubt some women actually try to download and add to their Celine Dion power ballad workout mixes) and commercials just does not appeal to me at all. I'd much prefer a close up of that kid from School of Rock staring into the camera and saying, "You're tacky and I hate you." And then maybe George Michael's Freedom would be playing in the background. I think that might be my motivational cocktail.

Dec 11, 2012

What rodent feces cannot completely destroy our lead-based painted bodies can only make us stronger or something like that.

Photo courtesy of Olan Mills backdrop #17: "Miscellaneous desk chair positioned within ambiguous office space." Please note the shag carpet bench seat has been replaced with a Kleenex box and the backgrounds of Southern plantation with weeping willow/over-sized wagon wheel or shelves filled with legal books are no longer available. (It's called a recession, people, no company is immune to its ill effects.)

Much like their predecessors, the Garbage Pail Kids sticker album and Get in Shape, Girl! fitness kit, these treasures were unearthed from my parents' attic and carefully rinsed of 25 years of rodent feces. 

This hard, painted plastic Mogwai is as uncuddly as he was the day he was made.  He has toenails, textured ear veins and what can only be described as "terrifying fish eyeballs" and should never have been mass-produced for public consumption. But at least he has maintained moderate physical integrity.

E.T. has not weathered the ravages of time quite so well. He is unfortunately composed of what I can only now presume to be a pair of women's suntan hosiery, painted with a thin layer of cheap, brown latex and filled with beans and the tears of early 80's Taiwanese child labor violations.  And like fellow worldly treasures the Dead Sea Scrolls, his physical body crumbles with the slightest touch. There are faint traces of pink on his healing finger, whether from natural decay or a sentimental reminder of wear and tear from a child's favorite toy, I cannot tell, but either way I definitely have some form of lead poisoning.

Dec 2, 2012

This blog is not about Whitney Houston. But one time about bull semen.

I'm just going to put it out there that 75% of addresses have something to do with horses. The remaining 25% have to do with diabetes-friendly recipes/Whitney Houston tributes.

Does anything NOT escalate in a falsetto?

Are you an actor? Do you want to be? Come to my free clinic where I will teach you all the latest techniques I have learned from my 3 year old son like endless repetition of nonsense phrases and crying. Want to practice in the privacy of your own home? May I suggest the following phrases to repeat in front of a mirror (preferably in a high falsetto and occasionally while screaming/crying):

III want a hair do?"
"I want a HAIR DOOO!"
"I want a HAIR do!"

"Maybe I can have some chips maybe?"
"I can have some chips maybe?"

"I going to have pie."
"I going to have um salt on my pie?"

*Phrases work best when repeated immediately one after the other as grouped above, as this is how they naturally escalate in real-life scenarios.

I used to think the Arizona Cardinals were a made up team for the Jerry Maguire movie. I should've prefaced that with, "Until 7 years ago..."

92% certain my husband enjoyed all the questions I asked during Moneyball even less than what happens when we watch football together. (I gave him an 8% leeway for answering six questions about Darryl Strawberry, who figures zero percent in the movie, and for never responding to my comments by staring at me with his "I cannot believe I leave our children in your daily care" face.)