« January 2007 | Main | May 2007 »
April 30, 2007
Mo Lie Mow! (or, how do you say Gesundheit! in Chinese?)
First thing first. Good morning, and yes, I mean that in the birds are chirping, it's not friggen raining, and I believe I just caught a glimpse of the sun sort of way.
Today's blog is brought to you by Point Break Live! and Miss Manners and Loius CK
As the above already lets you know what i've done this weekend, I'll jump right into the crux of the entry.
What Would You Do?
*
There we were, ( my beau and I, because women use pronouns) at a Chinese restaurant, after seeing Point Break Live. We were chowing down some Congee and discussing my seemingly rampant desire to make a fool out of myself onstage at public performances. We're about half-way done with our meal, and a woman walks by, baby in arms. The baby, cute as a button, and stuffed up as a teddy-bear, sneezes on our food. Let me expalin further:
The baby had food in her mouth and sneezed at the same time. We saw particles of snot and food spray across the table in an almost cinematic replication of Hooch's drippy, nasty, wet saliva, making its way across all of Turner's pristine apartment.
Our dinner, was done.
The nasty waitress (who could not endure my English) came by to ask how everything was, and the boy (because women use pronouns) explained the situation.
Eventually, the snot-riddled tot's mother came by and apologized, but did not offer any compensation for our completely ruined dinner.
Would you have?
Picture gleaned from:
http://www.coolquiz.com/trivia/explain/docs/images/sneeze.gif
Posted by lysa at 9:10 AM | Comments (3)
April 27, 2007
Damn my Mom would look hot in that!
Figleaves.com, one of the overzealous e-mailers I spoke of on my last post, sent me the most curious e-mail today:
Subject: Top 10 gift ideas for Mother's Day plus FREE shipping on all orders at figleaves.com
From: "figleaves. com fashion editor"
To: me.
For those that don't know, figleaves is an online store that sells lingerie, and some other articles of clothing that may not get you laid.
Why would anyone, ever, anywhere, buy their mother lingerie for Mother's day?
That's just sick. Bad figleaves, Bad.
And don't tell me that the nearly-approaching-orgasm woman displayed in the e-mail has nothing to do with the Mother's Day promotion, because I know web design, bucko. Pay attention! You see the green circle declaring your savings? Now look at the mother's day banner that falls torwards the bottom of the screen. Same green. They do that to promote a relationship between two objects on different parts of the web page. Also, please note the pink background behind the NAO, and the background of the Mother's Day message. Same pink.
It's bad enough that I get calls from my mother telling me that her new medication has brought her up to a "full D", but now I have to deal with figleaves suggesting I buy her lingerie.
Ew.
Posted by lysa at 2:20 PM | Comments (2)
April 26, 2007
How much shopping can a girl do?
You know that bit in "Fight Club" where Edward Norton glances around his apartment and automagically all the product names and prices from IKEA pop up on the furniture? I'm not saying I'm that bad, but I have been known to purchase one or two things from a store rhyming with Nottery Larn.
Once you make this mistake of buying something through a catalogue, you are inindated with crap for the rest of your life. Suddenly, you're considering patio furniture when you don't have a patio. Considering new throw pillows for your couch, which, by the way, would love to be replaced by the ensemble on page 96 - you know, the one with the slipcovers.
My mailbox is filled to the brim daily with "summer inpirations" and "solutions for small living spaces".
If these people gave a damn about my small living space, they'd stop sending me piles or crap that I just have to recycle anyway.
Which brings me to the companies who send me catalogues and e-mails. I would like you to take a look at my inbox for April. How many friggen sports bras does a girl need? Don't they know I hate any activity that makes my boobs bounce? Maybe if I cancelled my online subscription to women's health magazine they'd stop thinking i'm like, active.
Posted by lysa at 12:04 PM | Comments (4)
April 22, 2007
Put some friggen clothes on!
Have I lost my damn mind or is 60 degree weather now a reason to walk out of the house in next to nothing? I'll admit, today was beautiful. It was sunny, 70, and after nearly a month of cloudy, wet, cold and monsoon like weather, the denizens of NYC were eager to show a little skin. Even I, for a few rare moments took off my jacket and patrolled the streets in a mere t-shirt. It is for this above reason that I forgave a variety of belly violations this afternoon. Let the denizens celebrate! Liberate those toes! Show off some skin, but for christ sake, when the sun sets, be reasonable!
Is it really necessary to parade your baby-doll dress and cowboy boots after the sun sets, when the wind is gusting along? When did jogging shorts beome shorter than my friggen underwear? Do I have some age-induced temperature disorder? I was quite comfortable in my tent-like denim skirt and leather jacket. My boyfriend, the King of the Men-Who-Are-Always-Warm tribe was donning a leather jacket himself.
I get it. April sucked, and we're all a little anxious to get out and start the Spring mating call.
Toes are blue, tummies are toned, and everything is irridecant orange, like this woman's shoes.
She, by the way, had on a lovely peasant blouse. I should have taken a picture of her goosebumps instead.
Posted by lysa at 9:35 PM | Comments (6)
April 20, 2007
It is because of men that women dislike one another. ~Jean de La Bruyère,
I have one female best friend. I know her going on 16 years now, and with the exception of two hysterical arguments, we have never had a fight. I'd like to point out, that during the first fight, someone was sending me ransom letters, complete in cutout newspaper style writing, and I was not quite in my right mind. I still have these letters, and if anyone reading this works for the FBI, and is willing to help me dust for prints, please let me know.
Anyway, another reason I think we've been friends this long is because she is one of the most loyal and considerate people I know. People like this need to be commended. Publicly. She is the kind of person that hangs around people that cause her heartache 95% of the time, and happiness the other 5%. She finds this 5% enough to hang on.
This brings me to the next reason we get along, because opposites attract. If you only cause me happiness 5% of the time, I'll ditch your ass.
So, this post is for all the people out there who have the patience to endure idiocy. The people who can play devil's advocate, the people who call their grandmother once a week just to be called a Spinster and who call their Mothers only to feel fat, stupid, worthless, infertile and inconsiderate after every. single. phone call.
I raise my glass to you all, because truthfully, I don't have the patience for that shit.
Posted by lysa at 9:29 AM | Comments (3)
April 19, 2007
it's a new dawn, it's a new day.
I'm still feeling glad to be alive, after that horrible flight from Miami to New York last weekend. Because of this somewhat newfound appreciation for life, I've kicked my own life into gear a little bit, and have gotten back working on some of the things that have been on a severe pause.
For one, I've enrolled in a beginning Cantonese class. Currently, I know enough of the language that I can call someone a "fat noodle bitch" and identify when my boyfriends parents are talking about "the white ghost" - which in case anyone is interested, is me.
I can also tell my fella "you're a big asshole and I'm a flower"
I found a really sweet web comic today. I recommend everyone go and check out xkcd.com. My current favorites are:
http://xkcd.com/c137.html
http://xkcd.com/c97.html
http://xkcd.com/c104.html
Going forward, I'd like everyone to know that PMS is in full swing, and I have ordered a Cold Stone Ice Cream Cake to my office this afternoon. The phone call was a little tedious. "No, I dont want anything written on the cake". "No really, I don't want anything written on the cake." "Yes, suite 1500 is on the 15th floor." "No, I don't want anything written on the cake."
Unless that stuff they use the decorate the top of the cake is some chemically engineered substance that decreases your bodies inclination to storing fat, i don't give a crap what's written on the cake. I just want to eat it. whole. like a snake - or that guy in the Reach commercials with the flip-top-head
Posted by lysa at 10:48 AM | Comments (2)
April 16, 2007
anyone have an arc?
Seriously? I've had enough of this rain. I want to be able to wear dresses, and not. I want to be able to wear open-toes shoes, and not. I want sun and 75 degrees. San Francisco, anyone?
I spent the weekend down in Miami for a wedding. The wedding was beautiful. The bride was beautiful, the groom wore a top hat. What more can you ask for?
Well, I could have gone without staining my new dress in the first 5 minutes of the cocktail hour, but fortunately the dress had a bow that helped me camoflauge my inadequacy.
I don't want to bitch about the plane ride back, because truthfully, I'm feeling a little lucky just to be alive and complaining about it so soon after the fact makes me feel a little ungrateful...
The pilot got a round of applause for getting us on land safely, and some guy in front of me threw up. That's really all I wanted to say.
I stayed with my brother, which if you knew our history is pretty funny. He met us (me and my beau) at the airport and we immediately started "discussing" the
immigration issue. From there we "discussed" Walmart, Education, "the war", Africa, Bush (which we agreed on, actually) and fucking Cheney - which might have constituted a bonding moment.
This is just an update, folks. When something of actual interest happens, I'll fill you in.
Posted by lysa at 9:40 AM | Comments (4)
April 12, 2007
Say Hello to my Inner Hippie.
Despite the fact that the new, cool way of getting news brought to you is through RSS feeds, I still prefer an e-mail from CNN. Today's e-mail was sad, and it made me want to stop, smell the flowers (assuming it were actually spring and not monsoon season, here in NY) and appreciate life.
Kurt Vonnegut died today. This is a major loss for literature. I suggest everyone should go home and pluck his or her favorite Vonnegut novel/short story/ and read it. If you don't own a book by Vonnegut, go and buy one. If you're not into books and only have the patience for short stories, check out Bagombo Snuff Box - it's a collection of Short Stories.
If you can't even stomach reading a few pages of really well written, funny, imaginative and sarcastic prose, at the very least, read a quote or two.
Maybe you should look at some art
*
Posted by lysa at 9:20 AM | Comments (2)
April 9, 2007
Way too many people see me naked.
Save your snickering and your bathroom gossip, this is a serious topic and it needs to be addressed. I went in to a chiropractor for the first time tonight to get my thumb looked at. I know I went in for my thumb for two reasons:
See! Pink!
So, I go to this guy - because it's only a thumb, and what are the odds you'll have to strip down to your new fancy panties for a thumb-ache? If you're me, the odds are pretty good.
Turns out I really need an orthopedist, but since I was there, would I like to be adjusted?
I've never been to a chiropractor. I think my bones are as stubborn as the rest of me, and they'll crack when they're damn ready to. He thought differently.
Don' get me wrong, cool guy - totally would recommend him if anyone reading this lives in NYC and needs a good back-crack. So, he says to me, after looking at my thumb and declaring his uselessness in that particular arena, "Take off whatever you need to for me to have access to your back"
Today, I wore a straight skirt, with a waist line that was actually at my belly button. I haven't worn anything that wasn't low-rise since the fashion developed. Also, since we haven't had any weather that even resembles spring lately, I had on tights. Both of these items had to go.
So, there I was, hospital gown, blue bambi panties and the best minimizer bra money can buy waiting for my brand new chiropractor to "adjust" me.
By the way, he likes my "art".
All in all, the adjustment was painful, but that's only because I have a bad hip-ass muscle which has caused me much grief in the past. Also, as it turns out, the reason one pant leg is always more tattered than the other is because I'm crooked - but don't worry, he's going to straighten that right out.
This naked bullshit at the Dr's is really out of control. My urologist, gynocologist, chiropractor, and even facial(ist?) have requested that I get near buff when I visit. I have to take my bra off for a facial? I've had boyfriends that didn't get that far!
Don't even get me started on the positions that the damn people that wax you make you get into.... (ow!)
After I was brutally massaged, I was instructed to lie down in this room on this... bed like device. I will call this the mechanical undulator, for this is what it did, and this is what it looks like:
The Undulator makes you move like something very, very nice is happening in a southern region of your delicate body. I want one, and you should visit my chiropractor.
Posted by lysa at 8:04 PM | Comments (3)
April 6, 2007
Sexiest Characters on TV
| True, he's an asshole. He's stubborn, spiteful, and stands to his convictions. Try as I might, I cannot write one full sentence about Greg House without praising him in some way. Those beautiful blue eyes, that wit, those puns! House is great to watch, and even better to listen to. True, the show has a pattern that doesn't change - but really, as long as House is still the star - who cares? Finally, intelligent writing is back on TV. |  |
| Logan Echolls, a character on Veronica Mars has me crushing big time. He's funny, adorable, and in real life, a near professional snowboarder. He's a little bad boy, though, not so bad that he's too much trouble to deal with. "Anthropomorphic - it's all yours, big guy." |  |
| I know, here's about where you question which team I play on. I don't care whats sex she is, Shane, of The L Word is unapologetic about her conquests, and that's damn sexy. I am envious of her wardrobe and her ability to be androgenous. I like Shane because as butch as can be, but they make her whopping 98 pound frame still say "Ow" when anyone playfully punches her. |  |
| Sayed on Lost is just a bad ass. Sure, he spent his youth torturing people in the Iraqi army, but I'm a forgiving girl If I were ever stuck on an Island (complete with electricity, fresh water and mysterious puffs of black smoke) I'd want Sayed by my side. |  |
| It's at this point in my blog where I start realizing I have a thing for (wo)men that are morally questionable. Vic Mackey of The Sheild fame is a cop who dancing with the grey in the black and white world of the law. Sure, he's done some objectional thing, but his heart is in the right place. Somewhere underneath that corrupt cop exterior is a teddy bear. |  |
Posted by lysa at 7:49 PM | Comments (3)
April 4, 2007
Victoria may have had a Secret, but I have a plan
I apologize in advance for sharing such things with you when you barely know me, but I recently had an idea I thought I should share. Girls, if any of you have a partner that has a desire to see you in lingerie, and you don't want to explain the hassle of lace and garters, follow these instructions:
1) tell your partner that you want to fullfill their fantasie, and to do so, they must be the ones to purchase aforementioned items. The lazy/cheap of the group will give up on the spot. They had no intentions of earning their supper, and they will acquiesce to the visions of you in your beloved flanel.
2) If your partner agrees to this deal, you may end up as lucky as I am. I approached my boyfriend with this about 2 months ago. If he wants to see me as The Nasty Nurse, or Linda Lycra, he was going to have to go through the heinous task of finding stuff for me.
Boys do not generally understand how friggen frustrating shopping can be. I spent a good 2 hours last night trying to find my best friend a dress. The choices were too hippy, too strppy, too long, to horizontal, too green, "are you kidding" and not horrible. For her, it's dresses, for me, it's the titsling.
I won't bother you with the details, but here's where the funny comes in. I watched my fellah pour through Her Room, Figleaves, FreshPair and here's the funny... Agent Provocateur.
I overheard such testimony as:
"What's the difference between blush, pink and champagne?"
"What's your size in Europe?"
"Wait, that's just for the garter!"
"Your size is all backordered"
"Why are all of these push-ups?"
"How much??? It's not staying on that long!"
"$90! For a thong!"
I sat on the adjacent couch with a little gleam in my eyes. I adore that he's going through all this because he wants to see me all lacy. I know many a man that wouldn't be caught dead looking at these sites with both hands on the keyboard, but my man did.
He finally ordered a good amount of stuff, which of course, will not arrive together, but in several packages over the course of the next 3 weeks - when I am sure to have my period.
Posted by lysa at 9:05 AM | Comments (6)
April 2, 2007
They Jog Among Us
I know it's been a while, but something occured to me today that is important enough to stop making family trees of my Sims and break my silence with this groundbreaking news:
Cybernectic Organisms are real, and they jog amongst us.
I admit, I'm not the fittest girl. Sure, in my hay day I was able to rollerblade a bunch of miles, walk to and fro school, up hill, both ways. But now, as I spend more time in front of this dread machine, I've gotten a little stationary.
Actually, exercise equiptment is what brought me to this conclusion. As I was panting along during my olympian mile, I realized that people cannot do this. Let me rephrase - human beings cannot do this. The only reasonable explanation is that androids are systematically placed in certain areas to do the following:
1) drive up real estate prices
2) drive gym memberships
Remember what the gym was like in the 80's (I know this because i collect old 80's gym magazines) ? There were steps and ribbons - low tech. Get in shape girl rocked, and no one needed a gym membership. Suzanne Summers rocked the infomercials with her thighmaster - all low tech.
Nowadays, machines know our heart rates and come with more technology than necessary. Instead of "stepping" on plastic steps, we're walking mechanical ones. What's the point? Here it is. The fitness mogules manufacture these droids to patrol populated jogging routes to make people like us feel like shit about how pathetic we are in hopes that we'll go to the gym. See it? See the conspiracy?
As far as the real estate issue: I defer to Overheard in New York:
"Black lady: Harlem is up and coming, but it ain't come up yet. I need to see a few more white people jogging at six a.m. before I sign a lease above 125th."
--7 train
Fucking Androids.
Posted by lysa at 10:31 PM | Comments (4)