Thats What She Said

I'm supposed to be doing something else right now.

Get Ready to Be Punched In the Face With Cuteness. February 28, 2007

Filed under: *brain cloud,*Cheese; Or, Stuff That's Good — thats what she said @ 9:25 am

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I came out of an early meeting this morning to find that Grandmaster Flash had IM’d me a link to this picture.  It makes my heart hurt, with cuteness.  Apparently all four of these little guys were abandoned at birth and have since become BFF’s.

But don’t worry, according to the article it belongs to, they will all have to be separated in about three months or the tigers will eat the orangutans.  Slightly less cute, and clearly a metaphor for something.  Young Hollywood anyone?

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Now with nuts! February 27, 2007

Filed under: *Cheese; Or, Stuff That's Good,*postlets — thats what she said @ 1:21 pm

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How is it possible to go from truly hating a food to loving it so much that you would lick a bowl that once contained said food while in a semi-public space in just a couple of years? 

I licked a bowl.  At my desk. At work.  And I’m not sorry.

 

And NO ONE Seemed Very Interested In Learning the Fox Trot. February 26, 2007

Filed under: *Booze,*sad bastard — thats what she said @ 11:59 am

I attended a party this weekend, and damned if it didn’t make me feel old.  My friends and I showed up, expecting to see your normal (or what has become normal for us, at this advanced stage in life) group of mid-twenties folks, reliving their high school glory days by making it damn clear to everyone that they still know all the lyrics to Baby Got Back. 

Instead we were greeted by a massive group of NINETEEN YEAR OLDS.  Seriously.  I carded one of them.  He was born in 1987.  How is that I am attending social functions with people born in 1987?  When did that happen? 

So there we all were, getting down with our bad selves.  I’m pretty sure my friends and I probably looked something like this to the youngsters:

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Meanwhile, we felt like we were attending a party with these people:

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Throughout the evening I had to keep stopping myself from asking if anyone needed to use the potty.

In addition to the youngness (Youth?  That should probably be youth.  But I like ‘youngness’ and I’m going to go with it.) of the guests, I should probably add that they were all dressed like Break Dancers.  Or at least tiny, slutty versions of break dancers.  I was wearing a Western shirt and a pink cowboy hat, and was planning on telling people that I had thought we were invited to a line dancing party.  Which I thought was hilarious.  But people, NO ONE ASKED.  Which caused me to wonder, do they think this is the way I always dress?  I mean, clearly I have been branded completely un-hip just by being (gasp!) over 25, but have I somehow managed to make myself appear EVEN MORE UNCOOL?  I had a brief moment of doubt and for a second I was reliving high school, and all the associated insecurities all over again.  And then I remembered.  These people are 19.  Who the hell cares what they think!  They have never even seen Tron!  (Actually, I have never actually seen Tron.  Which is a travesty of justice that must be rectified.  But you get my point.  These people know nothing!) 

I shouldn’t have worried though.  Because clearly my western theme had enchanted at least one young gentleman.  Early on in the evening I struck up a conversation with him because he just seemed like SUCH A DORK.  You know?  The kind of guy who might really do well at about 25, but who probably didn’t enjoy high school all that much?  He was wearing this really awful, sort of Kente cloth looking shirt, and he had this silly, crazy curly hair.  Everyone at the party was making name tags, and we started talking about what his name should be.  (I was Moon Rider for the evening, only some guy thought it said Moped Rider and then all night I wished it really WAS Moped Rider because THAT is an awesome name.)  So I asked the guy about his crazy shirt, and he said he had just bought it that day at this store called African Momma.  Like, on purpose.  You can’t make this shit up.   Obviously that had to be his name.  Ta da!  And then, you know, the conversation sort of ended—I wandered off to gum some applesauce, and he, apparently, wandered off to suck beer straight from the keg.

Because the next time I saw African Momma?  He was applying his chap-stick in what I can only describe as an aggressive manner and discussing with me the advantages of asexual reproduction.  I think he was smitten.  I think he pictured riding off into the sunset with his very own Moon Rider, perhaps on a moped.  And suddenly he was a close talker.  The Lovely Miss Q had to introduce herself as a ‘Moon Rider’s Protector’ and repeatedly step in between us.  African Momma and I re-enacted the ‘this is my dance space, this is your dance space’ scene from Dirty Dancing several times.  All to no avail.  It was time to get the heck out of Dodge. 

It was, to say the least, an interesting night.  I think the highlight though, was standing in the kitchen amidst scantily clad children and discussing with T-Bone how even though it’s hard getting around with fake hips and dealing with the complications of medicare, at least when we throw parties there are cheese plates and an open bar.  

These kids today, I tell you what… 

 

Don’t Try To Make Sense of It. Just Let It Flow. Eww. February 23, 2007

Filed under: *Daily — thats what she said @ 10:35 am

I may not have anything to say today.  Although generally as soon as I give up on a clever opener and write that sentence I come up with a million things to say.

Apparently not this time.  What can I say?  My mind likes to keep itself on it’s toes.  That is a weird statement. 

So, this weekend I have been invited to my friend Owen’s house for a Break Dance Party.  Did you all know that I am a spectacular break dancer?  Also I can whip up a souffle from scratch, install a surround sound system, name every county and it’s capital on the continent of Africa, and lie pathologically without remorse.  Wouldn’t you like to be my friend? 

Also on the agenda for this weekend:

  • Finishing the GD scarf for (increasingly anxious) co-worker!  What the eff is wrong with me? 
  • Watching the Oscars.  I don’t know why.  I think it’s Pavlovian at this point.  Also, pretty dresses.  And people.
  • Watching Babel.  Hopefully before watching the Oscars.
  • Hiking.  Somewhere. 

You know, if I multi-task, I should be able to complete item the first while attempting items the second and third.  But probably not while attempting item the fourth.

Stopping incessant babbling now.  Just be glad I’m not forcing you to read about my awesome dream starring Andre the Giant last night, in which I chastised him for not being more appreciative of his apartment overlooking Rockefeller Center. 

Time for the joke!

Q)  What did the fish say when he swam into the wall?

A)  Damn.

Hee.

Lator Gators…

Oh, but before I go, I want to wish T-Bone an awesome ride on Sunday.  People, she will be participating in something called the Chilly Hilly involving, you guessed it, both hills and chilly.  And also chili.  Crazy AND true.  Good luck lady!        

 

RIP Free Cable — July 26th, 2005—February 21st, 2007 February 22, 2007

Filed under: *sad bastard — thats what she said @ 9:09 am

Free Cable expired quietly and to little fanfare last night, of unknown causes.  Mr. Cable was survived by the DVD player, the VCR, and the stereo. 

Free Cable brought joy to the lives of everyone around him, and his loss will be deeply felt.  “Free Cable was only expected to be around for about 6 months, so really, every extra day we had with him was a blessing,” said Kimberlee, longtime partner of Free Cable. 

During his brief tenure, Free Cable valiantly faced a number of adversaries, including capricious weather, a somewhat precocious cat, and the advent of TiVo.   He faced it all with a remarkable amount of courage though, always ready at a moments notice to share the joys of such channels as Comedy Central and VH1.  Of particular enjoyment to him were The Travel Channel and The Food Network.  “Free Cable really loved Anthony Bourdain”, Kimberlee reminisced with a sad smile, “he really got a kick out of that guy.” 

There will be a small, private memorial service for family and friends held in the home of Kimberlee, Friday night at eight.   

Rest In Peace, Free Cable

 

I’m a WINNER! And H Is For Hellgate is pretty good, but I’m a WINNER! February 21, 2007

Filed under: *Cheese; Or, Stuff That's Good — thats what she said @ 3:39 pm

So there was a contest to win a CD.  That CD was H Is For Hellgate’s newest album.  And I won that contest!  I’ve never won a contest before in my life, and let me tell you, the joy of being randomly selected is even better than I had imagined.  

I now have my very own copy of this CD, and it was totally signed by the band:

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And today it was hand delivered by the lead singer!  It was like if Britney Spears came to my office, only suddenly she had class and talent!   

So I’ve been listening to it all afternoon, and it’s great.  There is a reason I don’t write music reviews—and that reason is that I am bad at writing music reviews.  I can’t tell you what other bands this band sounds like or if they were obviously influenced by early Dylan and Fatboy Slim or anything like that.   (Although just to avoid confusion now I’m going to go ahead and state that I’m pretty sure they were NOT influenced by Fatboy Slim.  Very much.)  

What I can tell you is that I immediately had to go back and listen to The Next 50 Winters a second time after hearing it once, and that the songs are all refreshingly distinct from each other even at the low volume listening at my desk requires, and that they thanked Wynonna Judd in the liner notes.  I’m not sure what else needs to be said. 

So, y’all, please help to rescue Jamie from her desk job.  Go to www.hisforhellgate.com and buy their new album.  It looks cute!  And it sounds good!  It’s starting to sound like a young Star Search contestant, and that is why, once again, I don’t write music reviews!

But I’m still a WINNER!

                         

 

I Think It Should Be Spelled Donkey Hotay February 20, 2007

Filed under: *brain cloud,*postlets — thats what she said @ 1:43 pm

If it was, maybe I would read it.