Archive for October, 2008

I ought not love this as much as I do.

But who doesn’t love a dance-off?

Palin’s wardrobe saves the ecomony.

So as pretty much every TV watching/blog reading/ear having American [and probably non-American too]has heard, the Republican National Committee spent $150,000 on Palin’s pretty, pretty outfits [crazy-talking lady does dress well].
Frankly, this doesn’t really bother me that much.  Perhaps it should, but being a clothes junky myself, I feel like I am in no place to judge the exorbitant retail related spending of others.*  Plus, it is probably good for the economy or something maybe. 
But what DOES bother me, are statements like the following by RNC spokesperson Tracey Schmitt::
“With all of the important issues facing the country right now, it’s remarkable that we’re spending time talking about pantsuits and blouses.”
How about “With all of the important financial issues facing the citizens of this country, it’s remarkable that candidates are spending one hundred fifty mother fucking dollars on pantsuits and blouses.”
Quit it with the righteous indignation already.  How about something resembling the truth.  You spent the money because you wanted her to look nice because you know that she will be judged on her appearance.  But you realize now, being the campaign of the Joe the Plumber, this probably makes you looks like a bunch of assholes.  You are sorry.  And you won’t do it again.  But at least you aren’t socialist. 
* Granted, I don’t get to have my wardrobe funded by campaign donors.  But whatever.  I would if I could.

Awesome faces and far away places.

So a week or so ago I Talibaned my face with some potent acid concoction. I complained for a solid week. I used it as an excuse to not attend a BBQ on Sunday or Yoga on Saturday [There is a way cute yoga boy I am semi-stalking. Aside from being a boy in yoga, he drives a Subaru. That puts is odds of being gay at 60% per the DC Dateability Assessment Test. We did chat on Thursday about whether I should get the purple yoga block or the blue yoga block. He liked the blue better, but I went with my gut [which said purple]. I don’t know if the fact that he picked blue over purple makes him 10% LESS gay, or if the fact that he allowed me to engage him in a shopping chatter makes him for sure gay.] But today, my skin looks amazing. So amazing in fact, that I am itching to do it all over again.

For those of you interested, the goods can be purchased here. Recommendation:: don’t try to enroll in enroll in med school before taking a biology course. Meaning, start with the 8% ladies. Trust me on this one.

Aside from learning today that my skin can be awesome, I also learned that Certain Someone is moving to San Francisco. The news makes me very sad. And also, surprisingly [oddly? alarmingly? strangely? inappropriately? – not sure which is the word that goes best there], angry.

Fun with chemicals.

I have been undergoing a metamorphosis of sorts during this last month. For one, I have been productive.  HIGHLY productive.  I have been working out.  Almost daily, in fact.  Cooking!  [Seriously, Who the fuck am I??]  I am even attempting to sew a party dress for my firm’s super posh holiday party.  I fully expect to fail and be frantically overpaying for a so-so dress at the last minute.  But I want my own personal Project Runway moment, dangit.
To reward myself for this newly unveiled better version of me, I decided to treat myself to a fancy facial [you, know, because um, I will be saving lots of money by sewing my dress or something].  When I went online to search out the best place to go,  I happened upon a review for an at home chemical peel.  Whereas a salon peel is upwards of $400 American cash dollars [which is now, like 75% of what remains of my 401(k).  Fucking stock market]. The at home version was a mere $20 something dollars.  
Question::  What IDIOT would buy a chemical peel [emphasis on “chemical] on a website? 
Answer:: Diet Coke. 
It did occur to me that this could be a bad idea, but in my mind, the worst case scenario was that the peel would not work and I would be out $20 dollars.  Isn’t that what Starbucks charges for a latte these days?  Whatever.  I am a fucking MAVERICK.  I threw convention and good judgment to the wind and paypal’ed myself some chemicals to make my face peel.
What I did NOT count on, is that the peel would work.  Like, really work.  So much so that I am sitting in my office with my scarf wrapped around my head in a fruitless attempt to hide my better version of me’s newly acquired lizard face.  And in addition to looking alien, my face is so tight that blinking even hurts.  My face is actually fucking PEELING off.  Because I am an idiot and put a CHEMICAL I purchased form the Internet on it.  On purpose. 
All I know is, when all is said and done, this better have worked.
Lessons::
a)  Don’t be an idiot and do a chemical peel at home.
b)  If you MUST be an idiot [as I often find I must], take a week off so that you may hide your idiocy from the world.
Oh, after all the folderol
And hauling over coals stops
What did I learn

Ex-Boyfriend called me up (and yoga, too).

I received a call today from my New York Era boyfriend.  Turns out his wife is prego.  The news made me oddly nauseous.  Sympathy morning sickness perhaps?  Don’t think so.  Real morning sickness?  Better not fucking be.
In other news, I have officially mastered the headstand in yoga.  Not much a feat, some might argue.  But you must keep in mind that last time I attempted this act, I thudded hard on the ground – my yoga mat knocking over a candle in my “candlelight flow” class, almost setting the place ablaze.  Okay, fine.  Nothing almost caught on fire, BUT IT COULD HAVE!  Nevertheless, the humiliation factor was high.
Speaking of yoga class, it has been amazing.  So amazing in fact, that I have shelved my notion of running next year’s Los Angeles marathon in favor of becoming a yogi.  Next step, Jedi master.

Actual Associated Press Headline.

“Palin pre-empts state report, clears self in probe”

lololololol.

The economy can take my money, but not my friends.

Back in the day – I am talking way back [high school back!!]– I made a friend named Lili [name not changed because I didn’t think she would mind me openly discussing her awesomeness.  Lili, do you mind?  Too bad, if you do]
We started off on the wrong foot.  My 9th grade bestie hated Lili on account of a boy, and me being the independent, free-thinking woman that I am, decided that I too would hate Lili – because, you know – umm, just because [Kids!!].  The hatred had abated by the end of the year [although not before 9th grade bestie defaced Lili’s photo in my yearbook] but by that point, both Liliand I were comfortably enmeshed in our respective nerd circles and were not interested in friendship with outsiders.
It was not until our senior year of high school, and a painfully difficult Physics class that Lili and I became friends. One day we were awkwardly in the same lab group [disproving all of Newton’s theories incidentally*]  and the next we had deciding we would never again attend another lab [or much of the rest of High School, as it turned out], opting instead to attend pool parties. 
It just so happened that after high school, both of us headed to Western Massachusettes for college, which made it easier for us to continue what had started.
Over the course of the last fifteen years [FIFTEEN!!], Liliand I have been through some serious shit together.  High school prom for one!!! The death of parents and classmates.  Lili’s decision to defy logic and marry a guy she had known for all of like, two minutes [while we were still in college no less]**.  My constant boy/friend drama.  Thousand and thousands of miles between us.  I once even spilled an ENTIRE large coffee coolata from Dunkin’ Donuts in her car.  And still, here we are!
Lili has for a long time been, and will likely always remain in my top 5 of all time people I know.  But this past week, after having gotten to spend an entire week with her [she lives in Vermont, and I obviously, not in Vermont], it dawned on my just how damn much I miss her.  And she has not even left yet!!  And of course, missing Lili makes me think of all my other friends not in Los Angeles who I miss terribly.  And it all makes me very sad.  But it is an oddly happy sad.  Sure, some [most?] of my favorite peeps have left Los Angeles, but how lucky am I to have so many amazing people in my life?
Very lucky.  That is the answer. 
* but only because we were doing the lab wrong.  Whoops!
**  it worked out quite well.  She is super happily married.