These were taken off the balcony of my house.
That is some good sized flame.
Words Overheard: Airport Conversation
Three men, British accents, standing in line in front of me and waiting to check into the flight, speaking with much more passion and exuberance than my day calls for:
1: “No way! No one’s done what we have. No one!”
2: “I’d like to see them put themselves in that situation and survive!”
3: “You think it’s all that impressive, do you? That’s a little sad, really.”
1: “I don’t need this! (pause) You’ve obviously already forgotten Saturday, pallie.”
Same gentlemen in the airport eatery. It’s 7:45p and the only open seat is next to them on the long booth going along one wall. The table doesn’t move but I try to inch it closer to me anyway. My plane has been delayed indefinitely. I’m hungry and would like a beer. The waitress smiles at me and motions that she will come right over as she makes a path next to me and goes to a different table. Three times. By the time I order my nachos and get my beer, I’m getting a slight headache from the din. All these people with the intention to leave shortly yet stuck in place for the unforeseeable future. They are chatty, tired, on edge and colorful.
I lay my head back and decide to relax. Seven seconds later, realizing that relaxation is far, far away from my grasp, I get out my notebook and start to jot. On my left I hear
1: “…..if I can get her to fall in love with me.”
2: “She’ll see right through you.”
3: “Don’t you think you are too gay for that?”
1: “Only if I am really gay. (somber pause while they all take a drink) Am I gay?”
2: “Don’t say that too loud. I think you’ll spook our neighbor there. You sound lovelorn.”
3: “She’s writing furiously. She must be a restaurant reviewer.”
2: “Or is that a picture she’s drawing? Look, Pete, I think it’s you.”
1: “That’s a drawing of a Gothic square. Are you daft?”
Me: “I’m just doodling. It’s nothing, really. What I should draw are some nachos. I’m starving.” 8:35p and still no food.
3: “Yes. I noticed you had nothing in front of you. I would have offered some of our nachos but they seem to have disappeared.”
2: “I believe they are on the inside of Pete right this very second and wishing they could find a way out.”
Me: “Well, I think they will find a way out eventually.”
1: (hoot of laughter) “Now that is a charming thing to say to somebody!”
3: “And here I thought you were a restaurant reviewer! But you couldn’t be with that kind of cheeky mouth!”
2: “But really, what would a reviewer be doing in this place? This place called ‘The Home of the Haut Dog’ what with it being in the airport and all?”
1: “Well, I might have shared my chili but it’s too late now as well.”
3: “But not me bratwurst. No.” (shaking his head)
2: “Shall we motion the waitress for you and ask her what for?”
3: “Must you call her over here again? She sounds positively shocking. Like Jar Jar Binks!”
1: “Yes. Do you think you could be a dear and not want your food now? We’d like it much better to leave without the pleasure of her voice again.
Me: “Well, that’s nice! Here you’ve just finished your food without sharing and then ask me to not have mine because the waitress sounds like a science fiction character!”
2: “Yes, but Jar Jar Binks is a really horrendous character.”
3: “Yes. Everyone thinks so. In fact we call America the Land of Freedom Including the Right to Create a Terrible Movie Character.”
Please Trap R. Kelly in the Closet
I’m relieved to know that I am not the only person that finds the whole eternity-long song sequence by R. Kelly not only unnecessary but completely elementary school. The first time I saw a part of what I believe was the #2 sequence, I thought it might be a joke. Who would be so literal in the words and action? I was suddenly spun back to 2nd grade when my best friend, Janice, and I would make up skits from Sesame Street. She was always Ernie and I was always Bert except for the one time I was Big Bird and did a terrible job and people laughed. I was quick to resolve to never be anyone but Bert from then on. Buttons on sweaters and stamps collections and pigeons I could do but don’t ask me to be 7 feet tall with yellow feathers. Anyway, Janice and I would make up these skits that our teacher would let us perform for the whole class right before recess. And since we were 7 years old, the actions and the words we said were pretty straight-forward. “Now were going to go to the kitchen and see if we can find the large pan for spaghetti.” Walking, walking, walking. “Now let’s see if we can find the noodles in the pretend cupboard.” Opening cupboards pretending to look for noodles. “Now let’s go outside. Let’s get our sweaters from the closet.” Closet. Closet.
I could go on but there is no need because Hole City has done such a great job.
The video does deliver some classic moments sure to live in the memory, usually in the form of a question: Why is he looking for someone in a dresser drawer? Why was she wearing that wig in the first place? Does he know how stupid that green-screen driving sequence looks? And we promise you, the next time you see a police car, a voice in your head will sing “Woo-oo, woo-oo, woo-oo” in imitation of a siren, just like R. does in Chapter 4.
And because the entire lengthy sequence makes little to no sense unless you’ve watched it maybe 17 times to figure out what the hell he’s talking about but you don’t want to watch it that many times, please god no, but you want to be able to sufficiently make fun of it with your friends, go here and read the cliff notes from Something Awful where they give you a list of characters, a flow chart, and word explanations in case you don’t know what some of Mr. R.’s terms mean.
Glossary of Difficult Words and Phrases:
Beretta: Refers to a brand of handgun manufactured in the USA.
Shuh, shuh: Cathy makes this sound to indicate to Sylvester that he should be quiet.
Y’all ass is crazy: Your entire ass is crazy.
And then there are the essay questions:
Essay questions:
1. Why does Chuck look for Sylvester under the dresser? How big do you imagine the dresser to be?
2. In chapter four, what does Sylvester mean by “a tear fell up out my eye?”
3. When Sylvester’s wife is describing the string of friends that led to the policeman, who is Tina and where does she fit into anything?
And finally, here we have Jimmy Kimmel with his own version called The Pizza:
It was so funny I almost peed my pants. But not on someone, since that would be too R. Kelly-ish.
Family Love
Girl, 10 years old or so, with her slightly older brother and wearied father in the airport eatery waiting for their food:
Girl: No! No! stomps her foot three times in a row and whines
Dad: in a whispered hiss Stop it! This is not a game!
Boy: If it was, you’d be losing.
Girl: to her brother Shut up!
Dad: to his daughter Shut up!
Boy: to his sister Shut up!
Dad: to his son Shut up!
20 minutes later….
Girl: Do you think we have enough time to go to Seattle? *silence* Brother! Do you think we have enough time to go to Seattle?
Boy: You sound like an idiot!
Dad: to his son Shut up!
Girl: to her brother Shut up!
Boy: to his sister Shut up!
Dad: to his son Shut up!
I'm Lance – Let's Go Out!
Here is my totally unsolicted opinion about poor, poor Lance:
1. Lance may not be married because he hangs out with weird friends and is employed by people who would set up this website.
2. Maybe we should set up the website ‘EmployLance.com’ so he can have a chance at happiness. Case in point, ‘And he’s one of eight kids, and we think he wants a lot of kids, so you’d have to be down with the ‘big family’ thing.’ Yak.
3. And the answer is YES. If you are Mormon, approaching or arrived at 30 years of age and have not married and procreated at least 3 kids, this will happen to you. So hurry. It’s an emergency. Get the guy married STAT.
4. What if Lance is gay but just hasn’t come out yet? This ploy to get him happily married to a wonderful LDS woman would be very short lived.
5. What kind of female would be compelled to answer his company’s ad to date him? And if you were Lance, how would you know it was about you and not the publicity?
6. I love the way they cover all the bases just in case. “If you are already spoken for, but feel bad about the missed opportunity, why not share it with someone who can Date Lance” or you can apply for a job with his company, LogoWorks.
UPDATE: Dooce has a photo of the billboard on her site.
Jennifer Talks to Dumb People aka Moonves
Joan of Arcadia got cancelled. In it’s place, there will be a program called, Ghost Whisperer, with Jennifer Love Hewitt. David Bianculli of the New York Daily News, the king of the great questions, asked Moonves: “Why is it that you think a show with a 25-year-old who talks to ghosts is going to do well in the same time period where you had an 18-year-old talking to God?” Moonves paused, then shot back, “I think talking to ghosts may skew younger than talking to God.”
Dude. Everyone knows that JLH was the weak link on Party of Five. Her talking to ghosts in not going to be any better than her talking to alive people.
This man makes me want to be a therapist of some kind and figure out how to help people that can’t talk but have mad piano skills.
If you know me, you know I love Gwen. Here is she, in all her hotness, on the Ellen show I couldn’t go to because I’m all adult and everything and do things in the day like work. I still can’t believe I had to turn that invitation down…..
Did you know I lived in Germany? Well, I did. And I loved it. And this story cracked me up. Germans having 1.5 to 2.3 kids was a topic of some discussion among the military wives. Mostly since we all were young, married and had at least 2.6 to 3.9 and some (me) up to 4.0+ kids of our own. What was wrong with these German young people that didn’t want to have kids? Couldn’t they see that we, the bedraggled, overtired, creased-clothing, chain smoking, lonely, drunk women had it made?
Some days, I can understand what they are saying: “There is an increasing belief that not having children is the ideal way of life,” the authors of the study concluded. Now keep in mind that the government will pay the women to have kids and stay home and take care of them. It’s not like in the USA where so many women get knocked up, have 6 kids and stay on welfare and can’t make ends meet. Their government PAYS them if they will just please, have a kid or two.
And, why aren’t they having kids? Because they go to school. “Germans also tend to be students longer than in other countries, with many still enrolled at university and college until they are at least 30. This lengthy study period is “a reliable method of contraception,” said the minister responsible for families, Renate Schmidt. Remind me to keep my kids shackled to college until age 30.
But my favorite reason cited: “In Germany, having children isn’t sexy,” said Marie-Luise Lewicki,” whose name reeks of sexiness in itself.
Does anyone else think it’s kinda ironic that the race which was at one point held in such high regard by an insane dictator to the extent of millions of people dying for his sick idea of ‘preserving the race’ is now voluntarily not procreating?
Smoky
Joe and I had the equivalent of 2 large moving boxes and some assorted sacks worth of dirty laundry collected after moving three times and effectively avoiding cleaning any clothes or bed linens for a few weeks.
Last night, due to the children’s uncooperativeness to go to school wearing only dirty baseball uniforms, we gave in and went to the coin laundry mat, where, as Joe said so succinctly, we have set a goal to never go to again.
When the ‘Floor Washer Woman’, whom we affectionately named Smoky, due to the scent emanating around the entire establishment, saw us come in with our Santa-sized laundry bags, she immediately wanted to help. Help us learn how to use the washers. Since we obviously didn’t know how to use them. Since we had so much laundry and looked as if we had never used any washer before in our lives. And especially not her beloved industrial-sized mega washers which hold 5 loads. We used the whole wall of that kind.
She came over to Joe, who was sorting and throwing darks and lights into washers, so she could explain how the ‘Free Wash’ worked. We didn’t really understand and quite frankly, we didn’t want to know since the idea of waiting while one load finished and then putting in another load sounded like a 5 hour sentence and using 20 washers at the same time meant getting out of there as quick as possible, it just made no sense, free or not.
I went over to the quarter machine and spent some time unfolding corners on 5 dollar bills when suddenly, a very LOUD and gravely voice from the other side of the room yelled, ‘LEAH! LEAH! DO YOU WANT HOT OR WARM?’ Shocked, I looked at Joe standing next to her, who was mouthing, ‘Oh-my-hell-can-you-believe-this-woman
-and-i’m-so-sorry-i-told-her-your-name’ and I managed to get out a feeble, ‘warm is fine’ with a crooked smile. Continue reading “Smoky”
Breakfast
Breakfast is only served until 10:30. And that means you have to be at the talky panel before 10:30. If you are in the line at 10:30 and don�t make it to the talky panel, well then, you�re screwed. You can get into the line at 10:17 and be behind a super slow car. They don�t care. It could be their fault that the line doesn�t move. They could just not be cooking the breakfast food after 10 am and they just keep the people in line until 10:30 and then tell you it is too late. It�s a conspiracy. They are communists. It�s depressing when all you really wanted were crispy, little round pieces of deep fried, sodium showered, shredded potatoes. There is no substitute.
So, it�s 10:24. Joe and I think we have a good chance of getting to the talky panel before it�s actually 10:30. So we drive into the little preset lane for those seeking over-processed and structurally unhealthy fast breakfast foods.
The car in front of us is a medium sized SUV. The guy driving it is rock-star. He has shoulder-length wavy hair and hasn�t shaved. His sunglasses are SU-pah-reflective. And you just know that his big-ass, gas-guzzling, off-roading, environment-killing tires have never seen the likes of an unpaved road. He�s a poser. I get to breathe his exhaust because he doesn�t actually use his SUV to explore nature. He uses it to try to get McDonald�s breakfast before 10:30 am.
Joe and I watch in tense anticipation. We really want RockStar to hurry. Hurry, RockStar. Hurry. See RockStar. See RockStar sit. And talk. It�s now 10:29. See RockStar not move. At all. RockStar makes a gesture with his left arm out the window. His hair shakes back and forth as RockStar makes grunting noises. RockStar puts his SUV in reverse. The little white lights blink on and off and back on again. He tries to back up. Then moves forward. He leans way out and looks at the 5 inch high curb which dictates All People In Line For MacD�s Must Be Within Parameters. He calculates. His white reverse lights come on again. He looks at us. He looks at the curb. I look at his tires and want to kick his ass. I�m going to miss breakfast. Finally, in an exasperated tone, he asks us to move back so he can get out. To which Joe obliges and we both chuckle.
CURB = 1
GIANT SUV TIRES + ROCKSTAR = 0.
And then we realize that he left because they wouldn�t serve him breakfast. See Leah. See Leah be sad. See Leah and Joe drive over the puny curb, spin out and blow smoke all over the people in line.
Just kidding. We just drove away like regular people following the arrows and lines to the exit. With our heads hung low and no McDonald�s breakfast. And our cholesterol levels sang for joy.
Famous People
Why were Oliver Platt and Rosie Odonnell having lunch together at Canter’s on Fairfax?
They were there so she could enjoy chicken noodle soup, her first real food since having the flu for the past 48 hours. Only, it wasn’t Rosie. It was me. And it wasn’t Mr. Platt, it was Joe. But there were people there at Canter’s that knew better then we did regarding who we were. There were knowing glances passed across the table and isle. There were whispers and smiles. They knew that because I had a baseball cap pulled down over my head and looked as if I had something to hide, namely that I felt like shit, we must be famous. And Joe’s hair is kinda long right now and I’ve heard him compared to O.P. before, who I think is cute, so I wasn’t surprised about that, but Rosie? Come on.
Anyway, we don’t have to look any farther than the rearview mirror to find the stars here in LA. We are the freakin stars. And I need to lose some more weight. Fast.
You Know That One Time? When My Bra Broke?
We’re sitting at the Hat having dinner with the kids on Wednesday night when suddenly my bra breaks. You know when the under-wire part has just had enough of its heavy load and decides that this is it….I�m so over the whole bosom thing…..so it snaps? And dies? And leaves you out there hanging?
Well, being the entirely prudish, cool and collected mother that I am, I exclaimed loudly to the entire table and anyone else within a 20 foot radius, ‘Hey! My bra just broke! Dude!’ After which my face immediately turned red.
Now, I’ll go up to total strangers and tell them that my bra broke if I want to. I’ll go up to people in the laundry mat or train station of anywhere you can think of and ask them why they pierced their nose and attached a chain and does it hurt and does snot get caught in it and tell them about the time right after I had a baby when I walked down the hospital hallway from the bathroom and my mostly used pad fell down my leg and out on the floor because it didn’t have any sticky stuff on the bottom to keep it stuck on my panties and why are hospital people so dumb as to buy the same kind of sanitary napkin that I was forced to use growing up because my dad bought a year supply of the Stayfree brand with no sticky stuff and instead came with the little hook and belt thingy that lasted clearly longer than one year and probably close to 4 years.
So the blushing wasn’t because of the content of what I’d just said. That’s wasn’t it at all. The problem was that right after I said it, I realized that I couldn’t have stopped myself from saying it if I’d wanted to. I had no control over what popped out of my mouth. It was just like an unexpected bit of gas. And thank goodness it was my kids and husband and not Gwen Stefani. Or my boss. And who knows what else I’d say should the occasion call for it? That is why I turned red.
It’s not like a person can practice this kind of thing, either. You can’t unknowingly will your bra to break when you aren’t expecting it so you can practice not exclaiming things out loud. I’m concerned. Deeply concerned.
Let’s just hope that I don’t accidentally have my underwear explode or my shirt unbutton by itself (It could happen…I’ve seen that cologne commercial….) next time I’m in a meeting.
The Best Part
about living in the lap of complete strangers:
January 20th
Last night we were lucky enough to be in the front row of the most fabulous fight. It happened upstairs and a little to the left of our room.
Scenario: Jilted woman comes to yell at the jiltee =
Woman: Do you have a girl in there? DO YOU?
two-fisted bang bang bang
Man: muffled expletive through the door
Woman: You gave me herpes you [expletive]! How could you do this to me?
Woman: You [ expletive]! You [ expletive]! I can’t believe you gave me [expletive ] herpes!
Woman: You have a girl in there? What the [expletive ]? You [ expletive] gave me herpes!
Man: muffled yelling
Woman: Go on and tell that whore that you gave me herpes!
two fisted, earth shattering bang bang bang bang
Woman: Why do you keep hurting me like this? No one deserves to be hurt like this? How can youkeep hurting me you [expletive]?!?
Man: I just called the cops.
door slams
BANG BANG BANG
siren in the distance (for something else I’m sure, but it worked) running down the stairs
THEN, back at the ranch, at 6:15 this morning, she came again.
BANG BANG BANG
Woman: Wake up, you [expletive]! You gave me herpes!
…..and then for the man in North Dakota that didn’t hear yet…..
Woman: Why do you keep hurting me? Tell that girl you gave me herpes!
silence *crickets chirping*
Woman: Hey, you [expletive ]……
Woman: No one in their right mind would be with you!
pause and then quietly
Woman: Are you coming home later?
WayBackTrip to January 7
I officially hate this hotel.
When we moved in I was all, �Oh, how cute is this? All this miss-matched craftsmen work? This weird bed? And they still have the Christmas wreaths on the doors. I love it here!� which has quickly turned into �Ohmyhellhowlongdowehavetobehereagain???�
Besides the colorful guests we have the pleasure of getting to know much more intimately than one ever should, we have crickets which I’m going to start charging for their stay in our room. Crickets are not the same thing as cockroaches so I�m not living in fear, only slight bemusement and disgust. They are some wild species of cricket. They have stripes on their legs and way longer antennas than any other kind I�ve seen. And they can only hop slightly and to the side. I think the family lives under the dresser. When it rained so hard the other night the mom, dad and two kids came out for a walk to see the wonderful downpour. I invited them right out the door with a swish of my shoe to get a closer look at the precipitation. They all stayed out there except one which came back in and then had to die. It�s the rule.
Additionally, the maid took a pair of my new-cheap-dripping-with-Wal-Mart-stench-black socks I had to go through so much to get. Joe laughs when I tell him but it’s true � the maid has stolen them. I�m sure she doesn’t think anyone will notice if you take a pair of socks. Socks disappear all the time and you just don’t know where they went. So it’s no big deal, right? People don�t know where their socks go to. Except me. I�m anal enough to know how many pairs of black socks I own especially if they are new ones that I had to buy from Wal-Mart. The maid also sets the shampoo bottle on the floor instead of back in the shower. Why does she do that? And how come when I get back to the room at night the bathroom light is always on? It�s all designed to slowly entice me into madness.