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Wednesday, January 30, 2002
Gelatin mold? Yes. I said gelatin mold. You see, I'm thinking about throwing a Bridge Party. Except only one person I know actually knows how to PLAY Bridge, so instead we'd have to play Hearts or something equally ridiculous. And we would eat sandwiches cut in the shape of hearts and clubs and spades and diamonds. And we'd have to have a multi-layered jello tower (one of the layers would, of course, be spiked with Stoli). If I could make one of those roasts where all the bones have little paper chef hats on them, I'd do that too. And for the piece de resistance... a BARBIE CAKE.
Faggots of the world, eat your hearts out!
The only glitch is that I don't have a Barbie doll. But (shamefacedly) I do have four other Barbie-type dolls. What can I say, I was neglected as a child. So who should go in the cake? Geri Halliwell?
Rachel S Club 7 (She's electronic, no dice!)? Or one half of Japanese pop-star duo Puffy Ami Yumi?? Who wins it? Which caketopper will reign supreme?
Also, can we talk for a minute about those terrifying candles shoved into that cake?? Mine won't be like that. Just for the record.
Posted at 04:02 PM | Comments (0)
Tuesday, January 29, 2002
Ridiculous Hair Day
Do you ever have one of those days when you can no longer describe it as a Bad Hair Day? When it crosses some line someplace and becomes a complete and utter farce, a Ridiculous Hair Day? I'm having one of those. I had PLANNED on getting a haircut this morning. Just like I planned on getting up early and going to the cook's supply store to get a gelatin mold. HA. As if. I was late for work, same as every day.
No wait, there's more. I was eating lunch today and I mentioned to the bartender that I hated the fact that the dry cleaners had STAPLED a tag to my shirt, leaving staple holes in it. Normally they just slip the tag through a button hole, but this particular shirt closed with snaps. And of course there's no such thing as a snap-hole. The bartender told me there was a simple solution: stop dressing like a cowboy. Sigh.
Posted at 06:04 PM | Comments (0)
Why doesn't Blogger Pro have a commenting system built in? I just don't understand.
Posted at 10:17 AM | Comments (0)
Jeb tells me that I should pronounce my URL "joe-n-you." His pronounciation comes from the name of an Aussie bass player whereas mine comes from the name of a French bicycle but I think it might be possible that there is a freakish linguistic crossover at play. Now the question is: which syllable gets the emphasis? Answers on a postcard, please.
Posted at 10:14 AM | Comments (0)
On the pull
I have two uninteresting stories to tell today.
The first is that I saw these two guys scoping each other out on the train on my way to work on Friday. The twist is that one of the guys was wearing a wedding ring, and after the successful scope-out, he oh-so-nonchalantly slid the ring off of his finger and put it in his pocket. Klassy! But wait, there's more. There's a second twist! You see, last night I saw the married guy walking home with his lady (his REAL lady, not his boy lady) and he lives three doors down from me in this big renovated apartment building. There's also a girl who lives in that building who I think looks just like Sarah Michelle Gellar (she even chopped her hair off a little while ago!) but I digress. Oh yes, I do. Where was I? Oh yes, I'm going to blackmail Married Guy and get RICH.
Crap, I forgot what the second story was. But I'm sure it wasn't as important as my impending Richness.
Posted at 10:09 AM | Comments (0)
Sunday, January 27, 2002
Posted at 09:15 PM | Comments (0)
Look! Over on the left! It's me! My fella took a really cute self-portrait of himself in our bathroom mirror the other day and now I've copied him and done one of myself. It only took 77 snaps to get it right. Thank heavens I'm not a perfectionist.
Posted at 05:57 PM | Comments (0)
The only thing I like more than food porn...
Posted at 02:16 PM | Comments (0)
Steps go solo
Yay! Claire was always my favorite Step, and H... well, at least he isn't Lee. Or Faye.
Posted at 12:55 AM | Comments (0)
Speaka the English
I don't know how to pronounce my domain name out loud.
Posted at 12:04 AM | Comments (0)
Friday, January 25, 2002
Todd Solondz is freaking me the fuck out on Conan O'Brien. What's up with his voice? He sounds like a 77 year old South African widow who spent much of her childhood with Italian schoolgirls in the Swiss Alps.
Posted at 01:27 AM | Comments (0)
Thursday, January 24, 2002
The whiskey does not make me sweeter
More plumbing woes. Just as I was about to hop in the shower, some guy turns up to change the water meter. Which means turning off the water. "It'll take 5 minutes," he lies.
Of course this has to happen the morning after a 3am bender at the Local 138. Well, OK, bender is the wrong word. But still -- I smell like whiskey and cigarettes. Blech.
Posted at 01:16 PM | Comments (0)
Quark flavor strange
So, what, is there like ONE guy doing the development on QuarkXPress? It's been HOW many years since version 4 came out, and now version 5 adds about FOUR features?? And no OS X support? Bugger. I bet scroll wheel mice still don't work with it, either.
I'm a Quark lover going back to my high school newspaper days -- I felt like I had "mastered" it long before any other program. Version 4 does its business perfectly in 8mb of RAM and I don't think it has EVER crashed on me (experiments with weird Xtensions notwithstanding... but crashes in that realm have been few and far between, too). I don't really want to see this program become obsolete, but for heaven's sake, you'd think Catherine Martell was running the company, cooking two sets of books and preparing to burn the whole damn thing down for the insurance money.
Posted at 10:45 AM | Comments (0)
Wednesday, January 23, 2002
Yesterday morning, while waiting for the plumber to come and unclog our bathtub drain (whee!), I was watching a little CNN. The rather foxy Anderson Cooper was on, doing some Wacky Product Roundup with two other "journalists" -- I think it was like Paula Zahn and some guy who used to be on Live at Five on NBC back in the day. They looked familiar; that's as close as I can get. So anyway, they're discussing the new Nokia Vertu, that $20,000 platinum mobile phone. And Paula Zahn is all giggling, saying "Why did they send this to us to talk about? It's so silly!" And then Anderson Cooper just stares at her for a second, grimaces, and shoots out some bitchy comment, something along these lines: "Well, dumbass, they sent it to us because they knew it would get us to talk about their company for 10 minutes. And even if people can't afford THIS phone, they CAN afford all the phones in their regular sales line, which now have a new cachet of cool, thanks to us shillling for them under the guise of NEWS. It's called free publicity, bitch, look it up."
"Paula" just kind of stared at him for a second, all glassy-eyed, and then did a quick break to commercial. Oh Anderson, sometimes you rock my socks.
I think he lives in the neighborhood near my club... I used to see him walking his dog outside with some guy (I assume it was his boyfriend, but then I'm the kind of person who always assumes that) every so often. It's too bad no one in the restaurant knows who he is; normally I rely on them to give me the scoop on celebs coming in. Thank heavens the morning bartender is a Gilmore Girls freak; he tells me he would definitely recognize the most minor of Gilmore hangers-on, like Kurt or Miss Patty, even in DISGUISE! Rock.
Posted at 10:33 AM | Comments (0)
Friday, January 18, 2002
Let's talk about smoking.
I've linked before to my favorite article on smoking (from Salon) but it never hurts to show it to new people, I guess. I suppose it's possible that someone (Oscar Wilde? Dorothy Parker?) wrote something better about smoking (and probably shorter. And probably rhyming.), but I still love this essay.
I was thinking about this article today because I've started a Bad Habit. I've started chain-smoking on my walk to work. When one cigarette is almost out, I use the butt to light the next one. And today Mark posted about dreaming of smoking in the bathtub... and suddenly I want to smoke IN MY APARTMENT. Heavens no!
I don't think I've ever smoked inside anybody's apartment. It just seems like some kind of inviolate law. Don't smoke in the house! Don't smoke in the house! I think I'm going insane.