Wednesday, December 19, 2007


According to Fred R. Shapiro, the editor of the Yale Book of Quotations, these are some of the most memorable quotes of 2007:

Lauren Upton, the South Carolina contestant in the Miss Teen USA pageant, gave this long, rambling, cracked-out answer when asked why one-fifth of Americans are unable to locate the United States on a map:

"I personally believe that U.S. Americans are unable to do so because some people out there in our nation don't have maps and I believe that our education like such as in South Africa and Iraq and everywhere like such as and I believe that they should our education over here in the U.S. should help the U.S., or should help South Africa and should help Iraq and the Asian countries so we will be able to build up our future for us."

Jesus, even I'm more coherent when I'm stoned, and that's saying something. Of course, in Miss Teen USA's case it's probably not the chronic--just sheer stupidity. After all, her generation is to blame for making Britney Spears a star. I weep for the future.

Here's a gem from Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad's October speech at Columbia University: "In Iran we don't have homosexuals like in your country."

Right, dude. There are no homosexuals in Iran, and your women are perfectly happy forsaking their civil rights and veiling themselves from head to toe in the suffocating desert heat. Tell me another one, asshole.

Of course, there's the one from "shock jock" Don Imus about the "nappy-headed hos" of the Rutgers women's basketball team, which I'm not bothering to even type because it's so damn stupid. Also "shock jock"? WTF? People still use that term? That's so eighties. What's shocking about Don Imus? His fucked up hair? His wrinkled, acne scarred face? Gross, but not shocking.

"I don't recall." -- Former U.S. Attorney General Alberto Gonzales' repeated response to questioning at a congressional hearing about the firing of U.S. attorneys.

Subtext: "I got caught, and I'm counting Bush to get me out of this mess before I shit myself in terror. Also, it's not my fault."

"There's only three things he (Republican presidential candidate and former New York City Mayor Rudy Giuliani) mentions in a sentence: a noun and a verb and 9/11." -- Sen. Joseph Biden, speaking at a Democratic presidential debate.

Heh. That one is pretty awesome. Reminds me of that South Park episode with the country singer (Toby Keith?) singing a song comprised entirely of the words "9/11".

"I'm not going to get into a name-calling match with somebody (Vice President Dick Cheney) who has a 9 percent approval rating." -- Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid, a Democrat.


"(I have) a wide stance when going to the bathroom." -- Idaho Republican Sen. Larry Craig's explanation of why his foot touched that of an undercover policeman in a men's room.

A wide stance? WTF? Doesn't he realize that makes him sound even MORE gay? Come out of the closet already, Lare.

"I mean, you got the first mainstream African-American who is articulate and bright and clean and a nice-looking guy. I mean, that's a storybook, man." -- Biden describing rival Democratic presidential candidate Barack Obama.

While I agree with Biden on Guiliani, he's painted himself in a corner on this one. The "first mainstream African American?" C'mon, everyone knows he wasn't the first. Philip Michael Thomas was.

"I think as far as the adverse impact on the nation around the world, this administration has been the worst in history." -- Former President Jimmy Carter in an interview in the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette newspaper.

Well said, Jimmy.

And I just have to add a quote on my own here. This gem was vomited up by Whoopi Goldberg on The View. Goldberg had the gall to defend Michael Vick, that piece of shit football player from that who-gives-a-shit football team recently given a little tap on the wrist (only 24 months in jail, probably at a minimum security facility), for dogfighting. In doing so, she managed to insult African Americans, everyone in the south, and any decent person in possession of half a brain.

"You know from (Vick's) background this is not an unusual thing for where he comes from," said Goldberg. "There are certain things that are indicative to certain parts of our country."

Co-host Joy Behar seemed shocked at Goldberg's statements. "How about dog torture and dog murdering," Behar asked.

"Unfortunately it's part of the thing," Goldberg replied.

Behar continued to shake her head in disgust.

Goldberg said it seemed to her that it took a while for Vick to realize that the charges against him were serious. "It seemed like a light went off in his head when he realized that this was something the entire country really didn't appreciated (sic), didn't like," Goldberg said, referring to Vick's guilty plea.

Goldberg pointed out that Vick was raised in the South. "This is part of his cultural upbringing...this is a kid who comes from a culture when this is not questioned."

BULLSHIT BULLSHIT BULLSHIT. I have relatives all over the damn south, and none of them participate in dogfights. And it is sure as hell not a fucking African American thing, as she insinuates. Dogfighting is an abominable, assholish thing that only subhuman dickheads like Michael Vick do. Eat me, Whoopi Goldberg. Defending this putrid excuse for a human being is not okay. So, "a light went off in his head" when he realized that people "really didn't appreciate" him torturing and killing dogs (let alone his participation and facilitation of a barbaric and illegal "sport")? Great. A light went off in his head when he got caught. What an intelligent and sensitive person. Brings a tear to my eye, in fact.

Michael Vick should be rubbed up with raw meat and fed to a pack of rabid dogs. That is the only acceptable punishment. THAT would bring a tear to my eye.

A tear of fucking joy.

Tuesday, November 27, 2007

I am pretty good at picking out Christmas presents for other people, but when friends and family ask me what I'd like for Christmas (or my birthday, Arbor Day, Kwanzaa, whatever) I always draw a blank. What the hell do I want? Today, it finally came to me. Friends and relations, if you are looking for the perfect Christmas gift, look no further than this tasty bit of British eye candy (and enjoy some comedy while you're at it):

Ah, Jude. I never tire of gazing upon his fair visage.

Shut up. This is my Christmas wish list, not yours. And it isn't even a list--just one item, for Christ's sake--so that should make it easier for everyone. It's actually pretty simple. Jaunt on over to the U.K., yank Jude out from under Sienna Miller, or his kid's nanny, or Matt Damon, or whatever bit of crumpet he's currently sticking it in, stuff him in a box (don't forget to poke air holes in it! The box...not Jude), and ship him over to me. Don't worry about Next Day Air or whatever, Standard is fine. I can wait.

C'mon, pleeeeease???? I promise to feed him and to walk him every day and clean up his messes and keep him off the furniture.


And don't tell me to ask Santa. I know the fat bastard doesn't even exist.

Sunday, November 18, 2007


The State was the funniest American comedy show ever produced. It was fucking brilliant. I am mystified that this show is not out on DVD. (It was supposed to be released in October, but Paramount has pushed the release date back indefinitely, for no particular reason other than the fact that they're complete assholes). And yet Saturday Night Live continues to shit out their "Best of" crapola, now featuring actors that weren't even cast members (The Best of Alec Baldwin? WTF? Who went and started the rumor that he was even funny?) Thankfully, I've been able to find a few State clips on YouTube. This one--"Tenement"--is one of my favorites. Watch, enjoy, and pass it on. We must spread the holy gospel of The State, my children.

Saturday, November 03, 2007

Two posts in the same day??

This is what happens when I'm bored at work. I thought of a list:

Songs that I never want to hear again, ever (but probably fucking will...)

1. Brown-Eyed Girl by Van Morrison

Enough already. I'm sick of this song, and it sucks that I seem to be the only one who's sick of it. I can't go into a bar without hearing it. And I mean any bar, anytime, anywhere. And if you pay attention, the lyrics are sickeningly cloying and a little creepy. (Again, am I the only one who realizes this? Apparently so.) Another sucky thing is that I can't hear it without thinking of that Julia Roberts movie Sleeping With the Enemy, because of the scene where she tries on hats with her new (gay) boyfriend and they dance around to this song. And yeah, the boyfriend in that movie is totally gay. Come on. Julia's character is married to that psychotic guy with the moustache who beats her like a circus monkey when she forgets to arrange the Jolly Green Giant canned peas in the cabinets with the labels facing front, the way he likes them. So she escapes to Iowa and meets this bearded guy who teaches drama at the local liberal arts college (red flag right there--or should I say pink flag?) who is watering his lawn and singing that "When You're a Jet" song from West Side Story (huge pink flag!) when she first meets him. And if that isn't enough, there is that scene where he makes her try on hats (GIANT pink flag) and if THAT isn't enough, there is a scene later on where he dresses her like a guy (GIANT sparkly pink flag, waved by Libarace's ghost). I rest my case. What was I talking about again? Oh yeah, that shitty Van Morrison song. Anyway, it sucks.

2. Love Shack by the B-52's

I like the B-52's, especially their first album. Dance This Mess Around? Awesome. Planet Claire? So fucking cool. Even their later stuff rocks. But this is their lamest song off of their only lame album, and of course, it's the only one of their songs that everyone seems to know, and (again) that everyone seems to like. This song has been played at every wedding reception I've attended since 1990. And, since I'm a single thirtysomething female, let's just say that's A LOT of fucking wedding receptions. I've had it. Play anything else. I'd even be willing to take Rock Lobster, their other overrated (though not nearly as over-played) song. And for my remaining single friends? Please, when and if you get married, I beg of you, DO NOT play this song at the reception. Let's start a new tradition: no fucking Love Shack.

3. Kiss by Prince

Man, do I hate this song. It sucks so hard, it blows. Prince--dude--what was with that stupid falsetto? To my recollection, it was the only time he busted it out. (Oh wait, there was that song, "Wanna Be Your Lover" which sucked almost as hard). And that video, with that outfit he was wearing. You remember, that gay Mexican bandit ensemble with the exposed midriff that looked like something Madonna rejected during her "Who's That Girl?" period. And the lyrics! "You don't have to watch Dynasty to have an attitude." What the hell does that even mean? The only people I knew who watched Dynasty were my friend Amanda's parents, and they didn't have "attitude," at least not the kind Prince was probably singing about. It is an eerie coincidence that this song was also prominently featured in Pretty Woman, another crappy Julia Roberts movie. Between that and Sleeping With the Enemy, it's hard to say which one is the crappier film. Let's just say that if Sleeping With the Enemy is the Vice President of crappy Julia Roberts movies, then Pretty Woman is the President. And I'll leave it at that.

4. Mickey by Toni Basil

I remember first hearing this song in 1982, and it sucked then. You know what really sucks? Hearing it in 2007, especially when it's grouped with other songs from that era--good songs like Tainted Love and Turning Japanese--in every damn Best of the Eighties CD compilation. Not that I (cough) would ever own anything as tacky as a Best of the Eighties CD compilation.

5. Walk Like An Egyptian by the Bangles

Did anyone actually like this song? It was like the worst of the worst of that era--a total rip-off of the Go-Go's We Got the Beat by a band that shot their wad with their first album and Going Down To Liverpool. Then Prince got a tiny boner for the lead singer, wrote Manic Monday for her, and it was all downhill from there. And by the way, the Go-Go's wrote their own songs. I'm just saying.

6. Everybody Have Fun Tonight by Wang Chung

Another example of a decent band who will only be remembered by the general public for the worst song they ever recorded. Remember Dance Hall Days? And To Live and Die in LA? Neither does anybody else, and those were good songs. It's tragic, really.

7. Brick House by The Commodores

Ever hear that saying "stacked like a brick shithouse?" It's a southern expression, used to describe a woman who is, well, stacked like a brick shithouse (I'm assuming that the south is the only place you can still see a brick shithouse. Well, the south and Khazakstan). Yes kids, a brick shithouse. Except they couldn't say "shithouse" on the radio in 1975, or whenever that song was recorded so they said "brick house." This is another one of those ditties played ad infinitum at wedding receptions, because nothing says everlasting love like a song about some chick stacked like "a brick (shit)house." How incredibly romantic.
When I sit around the house, I really sit around the house...

There's a photo of me in the current issue of CityPages. I look ugly, old and FAT. Tomorrow I am joining a yoga class and then buying one of those thingies to make my bike stationary so that this winter I will be able to pedal my ass down to a more managable size, cause this SUCKS. I am tired of being fat. I'm not obese, but I'd like my fucking jeans to fit again without my love handles/blubber hanging out for all the world to see. I know now that I will never get pregnant, because, (sorry to sound vain here....) (actually, no--I'm not sorry)--I NEVER want to be bigger than I am now. If I ever feel the need to swim upstream and spawn, I will do an Angelina Jolie and adopt a brat from some third world nation. Then I'll look like a saint AND be able to avoid wearing those ugly maternity outfits. My apologies to any and all men chomping at the bit to impregnate me. Guess you'll have to plant your seed somewhere else.

Wednesday, October 31, 2007

They love me in Berlin!

In honor of my favorite holiday, I thought I'd post this. Yes, it's another damn YouTube clip--the trailer for the scariest bad movie ever, Liquid Sky. Not for the faint of heart, this film is for hardcore bad movie buffs only. The funniest thing about Liquid Sky now is the way that film geeks are trying to label it an arthouse "classic." One movie site even proclaims it THE film that defined the eighties (???). Yes, kids. In the eighties we all dressed like retarded mimes and did bad performance art when we weren't having sex with corpses and getting dive-bombed by miniature flying saucers piloted by tiny aliens in search of heroin. Good times!

Happy Halloween, to you and yours!

Tuesday, October 09, 2007

Because I want to update my blog more often, I am posting. Because I am lazy and distracted and working today, it's going to be a quick one. And because my new addiction is YouTube, you go. It's the video for The Streets, "Don't Mug Yourself," (one of my favorites). I discovered The Streets last year whilst browsing in Robot Love, a funky Uptown store with Japanese clothes and assorted kitschy gewgaws. The clerk was playing Original Pirate Material, and that's all it took. Suddenly, I was a Streets fan. This video is awesome...I never knew that Mick Skinner was such a cutie until I saw this. The photos on the CD don't do him justice--I expected him to be scruffier and a little more hip hop. Thankfully, that isn't the case.

Anyhoo, enjoy.

Tuesday, September 18, 2007

Through the miracle of YouTube, I bring you Alan Partridge (Steve Coogan) singing an Abba medley. Insanely funny stuff.

(Thanks to Marcus for the YouTube tutorial).

Wednesday, September 05, 2007


Didn't do a whole hell of a lot this summer, aside from having altercations with crackwhores, spending time in airports (not unlike a certain senator--although I wasn't soliciting undercover officers for sex), getting drunk and/or stoned, and working, working, working. I've also done a bit of reading and TV watching, because--shit--what else am I gonna do in my free time besides update my blog and/or stare at my computer screen with increasing frustration while I try to get the last 50 pages of my novel written? Seriously, that wasn't a rhetorical question. What the hell else am I gonna do???

Some books I read:
Sal Mineo: His Life, Murder, and Mystery by H. Paul Jeffers

Still working on this one--I can't get enough of lurid hollywood bios of dead stars, even one as cheesey as this. I'm only a casual fan of Sal Mineo, and was surprised to learn that he actually had a career beyond Rebel Without A Cause. All the dirt in the book makes me want to watch it again to see if I can pick up on all the gay subtext supposedly buried in the relationship between Sal and James Dean's characters.

A Thousand Strokes of the Brush Before Bed by "Melissa P."

Ugh. Just....ugh. Contrived, conventional, and BORING. "Based on a true story" my ass. True stories are juicier than this. For a far superior read about a similar "sexually insatiable teen" (I hate even typing that. Such a cliche!) check out Innocents by Cathy Coote. No one's heard of it but me, of course.

History Lesson for Girls by Aurelie Sheehan

I ADORED this one. Definitely the best novel I've read all year. I reviewed it in the next 360, which is (supposed to be) hitting newsstands next week.

Some stuff I watched:
American Dreamz

Rented this on DVD recently, mostly because Hugh Grant was in it. Surprisingly good, surprisingly cynical too--which of course I loved. Cynical about America, cynical about Bush (Dennis Quaid plays a Bush-like idiot President), cynical about popular culture (including American Idol), cynical about pretty much everyone and everything. And the ending is fucking awesome.

Half Nelson

This one was amazing. I hadn't heard much about Ryan Gosling before, but he is brilliant in this (he plays one of those hip/inspirational teachers who really gets through to the kids...and who also happens to be a crack addict). Nothing about this movie is what you'd expect, and that's why it rocks. Even as a crackhead, Ryan Gosling is pretty fine. Even if he's not British.

I'm Alan Partridge

This is the summer I discovered the genius that is Steeve Coogan. I think I love him. I want to have sexytime with him and make him have liquid explosion. (NOTE: you have to imagine that last bit in a Borat voice, or it doesn't work). And I don't even care that (Coogan) had sex with Courtney Love in real life or that he's (allegedly) a cokehead. I find him oddly, insanely sexy and I'm not even embarrassed about it. Anyway, this show (and Steve, as Alan Partrige)? Fucking hilarious. The night I watched this DVD for the first time, I had a dream that I actually did have sexytime with Alan Partridge (not Steve, but Alan. He was even in full Alan makeup). And then he kicked me out of bed, which is oddly telling about the current state of my sex life.

Friday, August 17, 2007

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME--and Shane, my Irish Twin, who's birthday is today!

In honor of my 34th birthday, (which is actually in 2 days...August 19th) here are some photos chronicling some random moments in my life. Please enjoy.

This is me as a toddler (Mini-Me!). Check out my rockin' David Cassidy hair! I was so with the times (this would have been approx. 1974). Gotta say though--the white shoes and black socks? Not my idea.

Here I am, age 5, at my grandmother's pool in Tulsa. Look how leggy I was even then! Also, is it creepy to say that I wish my stomach was still that flat? Probably.

That's my cousin Andrea rocking the Izod shirt, my sister Michelle is the one in braces, and that's me in the hideous striped ensemble. (Again, not my idea). This photo is dated 1982, so I would have been about 9 years old here. That's my uncle's dog Beau, who I adored. (R.I.P. Beau!) :-(

Fast forward 6 I am at age 15, freshman year of high school. Dig the acid-washed jean jacket, the bubble-gum pink shades, the frosted lipstick. I couldn't have been more '80s if I'd tried.

Posing with a Budweiser Clydesdale in an undated photo (probably mid-20's here). Just throwing this one in to show how blonde I once was.

My 30th birthday party! This was at my friend Andre's house, who threw the shindig in my honor. Here I am with my friends Matt and Matt (or The Brothers Matt, as I like to call them). Notice how I'm letting them feel me up. What a hoochie mama!

Same party. My very drunk sister smashed chocolate cake in my face.

Again, same party. Me and my ex, who shall remain nameless. Yes, I used to (voluntarily) have sex with this man. And can you blame me? I mean, just look at the chemistry between us; the raw, unbridled PASSION I inspired in him. Wow. Also, his shirt is so gay, it's practically a blouse. There are but a handful of straight men who can pull off a floral print. He is not one of them. Also? I look fat here.

This is me now (well, about 6 months ago). A little older, a lot wiser. Also, not as fat. I clean up good, no?

Thursday, August 02, 2007

The Bridges of Hennepin County...

...are complete crap, apparently.

And to add insult to injury, check this out.
Bush Offers Federal Help Restoring Fallen Bridge

Wasn't FEMA a federal agency? Christ, is there no limit to this administration's stupidity?

You know what Dubya, we got it. Don't worry your empty little head about it. Just stay in Washington. Or better yet, go back to Crawford.

Seriously, we got it covered.

Thursday, July 26, 2007


I am having one of the worst summers in recent memory. First my boyfriend dumps me. Then my grandfather dies. Then I get the front bumper of my car knocked completely off by a bleach-blonde crackhead who was driving the wrong way down a one way street. NOW I get fucked over by her insurance company (I'm as surprised as anyone that the bitch actually had insurance). Progressive Insurance (apparently the company of choice for loser crackhead whores) agent Chris Grubb (yeah, I used your name motherfucker), says that there is no evidence to suggest that the damage to my car was caused by his insured. Yeah. My fucking bumper fell off by itself. ASSHOLE. And this fucking whore (Leticia--yeah, a white girl named Leticia. I should have known how this would turn out) is saying that I rear ended her. And knocked off my whole front bumper. And then reported the claim to her insurance company because, you know, I have nothing better to do. I can't believe this HORSESHIT. When the hell is life going to stop shitting on me? I mean, I'm going to need some really good things to happen to me to make up for this. Like Jude Law showing up naked at my door with a can of whipped cream and a contract for a multi-million dollar book deal. I'll accept nothing less. Till then, look out crackhead. I'll get you, and your brokedown-looking drunk-ass Mexican boyfriend too.

Okay, but some good things have happened, and I don't mean to say that the bad totally cancels out the good. Marcus came up to see me earlier this month, which rocked. Marcus, Shane and I saw the Police at Xcel. THAT rocked. And we went to this kick ass T-shirt shop on Lyndale called Stroker Ace (it has a picture of Burt Reynolds's face on the sign! How could you not love that?) I bought Marcus a Stroker Ace T-shirt for his birthday. I think I was more excited about it than he was, but he did promise to wear it to the gym at least. More good things...Matthew is being nice to me. I'm making progress on my book. I've had six articles published in the last two months, one in a national magazine. So, yeah--maybe I shouldn't bitch. \

But still. Blonde crackhead bitch Leticia? Your ass is mine. Look out.

Saturday, May 26, 2007

Two good things about this breakup---I've been going out all night with friends and getting the chance to act VERY immature (apparently, guys in bars like to be groped by drunk women. Who knew?). The second is that I've been getting tons more work done. Here is a piece I just wrote for the new issue of 360 newspaper. It's just a bit for one of those "Stuff that bugs me" columns, but I'm quite proud of it.

What Part of Shhhh! Don’t You Understand?

By Andie Ryan

As a freelance writer, I spend a lot of time in public libraries, researching story ideas and browsing newspaper archives on microfiche machines (yes, they still exist). I also frequently have my laptop in tow and, occasionally, I am able to find a quiet corner in the library to hunker down and do some writing.

Notice that I said “occasionally.”

It seems that the libraries of my youth, where silence was expected—and enforced—have gone the way of disco music (and I’m only 33). Over the last twenty years, libraries have become considerably noisier, and I find that the librarians and check-out clerks tend to look the other way. It is apparently now acceptable for young children to run rampant through the stacks, howling to one another and braying at their parents. The adult patrons are oftentimes just as bad, yakking away on cell phones and having loud conversations with one another, oblivious to the reproachful looks coming from those of us who are there to study, read, or even just surf the internet in peace.

This makes me sad, because I really love libraries. For me, as a writer and avid reader, it’s my version of church. Although I’m not a religious person, I see libraries as sacred and deserving of respect, reverence, and—most of all—silence.

So think of this the next time you visit your local library. And please, shut up!

Wednesday, May 23, 2007

I'm doing a bit better than last week, but no less bitter. For those of you just joining us (actually, my last post was pretty damn vague, so I apologize for that)--my boyfriend Matthew has fucked off into the sunset, (kissed off into the air?), giving me the old classic, time-honored "I'm just not ready" speech before running away like a little bitch. So, I'm back to having cheap meaningless sex--which, as it turns out, was all he was after in the first place. It is more fun than a relationship, I'll give him that. And a hell of a lot easier. But anyway, I didn't just come here to whine about another lost cause....

I went to the Fitzgerald Theatre last night to see the REAL man of my dreams, Michael Chabon (Pulitzer Prize winner, brilliant writer, my all time idol, and an all around HOTTIE!) so that has alleviated my mood considerably. Here is a photo of us together, and I don't mind saying, we make an adorable couple.

Tuesday, May 15, 2007


I want to walk up to every happy couple and tell them, "You know this isn't going to work out, right?" Maybe it sounds cynical, maybe it sounds assholish, maybe I'm just a cynical asshole. But seriously, how many couples who are happy together stay that way? (Either happy, or together, or both?) I'd estimate around 1%, and those are the ones who are 85 years old and close to dying, and just happy to have someone there for them.

It never works out. It never ever ever works out. No matter how much you like them, no matter how horny you can make them, no matter how often you have sex, no matter how much effort you put into it, no matter how hard you try to say and do the right things, no matter how witty and urbane and sweet and charming and attentive and fun you try to be---it's useless. In the end, we're all alone. The more I try to fight that sad fact of life, the more it fucks me in the ass.

I'll leave you with a quote that a friend emailed me yesterday in a game effort to lift my spirits. It didn't work, but I don't think anything will at this point. Anyway, it sounds nice.

"It’s my belief that history is a wheel; inconstancy
is my very essence says the wheel. Rise up on my
spokes if you like but don’t complain when your cast
back down into the depths. Good times pass away but
then so do the bad. Mutability is our tragedy, but
it’s also our hope. The worst of times like the best
are always passing away."

--Boethius, author of the Consolation of Philosophy

Wednesday, April 18, 2007

I seriously need to lose weight. Now, I know I'm not obese--I don't have body dysmorphic disorder, and neither am I one of those annoying girls who forever blab about how fat they are and how many calories they consumed yesterday and the South Beach Diet and bleh. But last night, I as I was trying to squeeze into a dress I wanted to wear out to my boyfriend's birthday dinner, something became painfully obvious:

My ass has gotten huge since last summer.

And I'm generally on good terms with my butt; I have a pretty shapely ass (for a white girl) and I can fill out a pair of jeans well. But there's an uncomfortable difference between shapely and rotund, as I realized last night as I attempted to stretch my slinky black dress (a dress that fit me just fine last August) down over my hips.

This sucks, because it means I have to start exercising and watching what I eat. Not that I mind exercising--now that temperatures have (finally) climbed above freezing in Minnesota, I can walk to work and start biking again, which I enjoy. It's the watching what I eat part that I hate, because I love to eat. I love a large Cafe Mocha in the morning; I frequently love a cinnamon donut with my aforementioned Mocha; I love Indian cuisine with all the attendant carbs; I love Chipotle burritos with extra guacamole; I love a real beer (not that lite shit) get the picture.

Looks like it's going to be soup, salad and granola bars for the next several months.

Tuesday, March 27, 2007

Sometimes when checking my email, I get a wild hair up my ass and decide to actually read one of the thirty or so spam messages that go to my bulk folder. I know it's stupid, because any one of them may contain a virus that could wipe out my entire hard drive (or worse). However, when I see an email with something like "He lick the horse!" in the subject line, my curiosity/boredom (those two emotions are closely related) sometimes gets the best of me.

Also, I'm easily amused.

So here is something that showed up in my inbox when I checked my oft-neglected gmail account. It's an advertisement for cheap Viagra (I had to read the fine print to glean even that much---I was so distracted by the rambling, cracked out "verse" about the dog and the alien and the Itchy Foot Itch).

Re: my confitur
Arvel Harney

of cooked meat wafted out and everyone was awake in an instant.
Because I told you to. It is of vital importance and you have no
temporooter. Only they think that it is an alien artifact from the far
because our fake dog was digging away like a real dog throwing dirt
He broke off as Indefatigable came running back.
musicality-The Itchy Foot Itch!
Are we going to have to talk to all of them?
shouted at me his breath frightened me more than he did.
Until this moment none of us had ever seen the tenor who was right
huge! I dont even come up to their legpits.
from them following the others. There was a creak and a thud from

And then it just trails off! What the hell? The bizarre thing is, I think it worked. Although I don't have a penis, I suddenly have an intense urge to purchase some low-cost Viagra.

Subliminal advertising is spooky!

Monday, March 19, 2007

I am crawling out from the rock I've been hiding under to blog on some random thoughts that have been nagging at me lately. Not the kind of nagging thoughts that wake me at 3am in a cold sweat (I don't have too many of those, thankfully), and not even of the "did I leave the oven on?" variety. These are more like thoughts that occur to me while I'm sitting at a stoplight and happen to glimpse (for example) a poster advertising the latest kiddie movie starring a once-controversial rapper or comedian (see below), initially famous for having blantantly misogynistic, homophobic and/or violent lyrics/stand-up material (again, see below).


1. The white guy from In Living Color is a huge movie star.

2. The cross-dressing guy with the creepy Prince moustache from In Living Color is an Academy Award-winning actor.

My thoughts on the matter: Was that show a gigantic turd, or is it me? I was sixteen when it debuted, and even at that tender, less-discerning age, I found it big-time Not Funny. And I used to watch Married, With Children for Christ's sake.

3. Between Britney and Christina, the latter has emerged as the classy one.

My thoughts on the matter: Please be advised that I use the term "classy" very loosely. No pun intended.

4. Marky Mark is now a respected actor.

My thoughts on the matter: My love for Boogie Nights notwithstanding, I find him to be a bit of a douche. Although, to be fair, it could be residual bitterness from having to hear that dumb "Good vibrations--fresh like Sunkist!" song ad nauseaum back in 1991, (not to mention his horrifying remake of Lou Reed's "Walk on the Wild Side".)

5. The Fresh Prince is now a respected actor. (And while I'm at it, whatever happened to DJ Jazzy Jeff?)

My thoughts on the matter: Holy shit, those jackets! They make my eyes all hurty. What we have here, folks, is an example of the worst of late eighties/early nineties fashions. Believe me, I was there. And it wasn't pretty.

6. Eddie Murphy is making kiddie movies.

My thoughts on the matter: Remember that bit he did in Delirious about Ralph Kramden cornholing Ed Norton? And yet people still took their kids to see Daddy Day Care.

7. Ice Cube is making kiddie movies.

My thoughts on the matter: I can't decide which photo is scarier.

8. American Idol is still going strong.

My thoughts on the matter: No comment, just a long and disappointed sigh.