Saturday, January 27, 2007

Okay, once again, she's famous because?!

Paris' stuff, left in a storage unit and auctioned off because she wouldn't pay a measly $200 bill, is now digitized and online. I'll admit it, I took a peak at their free tour, and my God, if they can give that shit away for free (not that we haven't all seen her goodies before, but still), I'm way too scared to see what's behind the curtain.

Seriously, has anyone given me a reason why this skank is famous?! I mean, why do we even give a shit at all? I keep hoping for the day when she'll just sort of fade away, maybe her case of herpes will eat her face or something, but it just ain't happening soon enough.

A calorie is just a calorie.

Women everywhere are crying over their Thighmasters today:

I'd be interested to read more about Ravussin's control methods but frankly, this isn't anything that I haven't heard before. It's just plain common sense. No one wants to hear it though because it means that the fat burning pill they saw advertised in their Cosmo or the Ab Roller they got off QVC may not be the miracle that's going to get them Jessica Biel's body.

Which is why, I'm sure, that all that crap will keep selling right alongside the Tastykakes.

Is it wrong of me to be rooting for this guy?

He's sort of like a modern day Robin Hood -- stealing from Wal-Mart and Crystal Gayle, and trying to take from NASCAR? This isn't just the base of a country western song, this is an American epic!

And all to see his Mama! I might just cry.

Friday, January 26, 2007

The only thing that is fat are certain people's heads.

What is wrong with people? Seriously?!

I can't visit any of my favorite gossip blogs without hearing someone weigh in on how "fat" Tyra Banks is based on these photos taken of her in Australia. What complete and utter bullshit.

Frankly, the woman looks great. I think she looks better with a little weight on her. She looks healthy. She looks real.

Every year we have another sacrificial weight lamb. A few years ago, I remember reading a movie review of "Bridget Jones' Diary." In it, the reviewer said that he thought that he liked the movie but wasn't sure because he was utterly distracted by the size of Renee Zellweger's ass. I was disgusted. I've watched that movie oh-so-many times, and I got to tell you, Renee does not look fat. She looks real -- a lot better than the stick figure she is in real life. And as a woman with a few curves myself, I got to say I appreciate it when movies cast actresses who don't make me feel like the fact that I have an ass somehow makes me unfit to live.

But the greater irony for me is that we have the media completely dissing the fashion industry this week because it promotes eating disorders but then has the audacity to print an article about how fat Tyra is right underneath it. It's really sad.

And don't get me started on some of the more famous gossip bloggers. Let's just say that most won't be winning any fitness contests any time soon so I'm not sure where they get off being so cruel. Let's get some unposed shots of you up on the web and see how you feel when people decide to comment.

So Tyra, you go, girl. Screw the media. I think you look fantastic. In fact, I think you could stand to gain a few more pounds. If you want, I would be pleased to take you out for some cheesecake-- my treat -- any time you are free.

Set all lasers to stun!

Have you seen this?

I mean, it's kind of cool but also kind of funny. Who thinks this shit up?

But seriously, folks, I'm holding out on getting my own until they come up with a handheld version. Life is too short to go around with a big dish on the top of your car.

Editorial soulmates.

Lord knows, I haven't had many supervisors that I've seen eye to eye with. According to my past performance reviews, this is usually my fault. My last boss said that I should try to make it less obvious that I consider everyone else a total idiot. And let me tell you, that is so much easier said than done.

But yesterday I turned in a story about bargaining to an editor. We haven't worked together much before so it was sort of a long shot. I wrote the piece on spec (which means I wrote it without an assignment) and was trying to find the right home for it. It wasn't a perfect match for her editorial section but it could be made to fit. So I hoped she might buy it. It's a piece about how to haggle when you travel to Mexico and South America with a full set of do's and dont's. Within five minutes of sending the story, the editor replied:

OK, I can offer you $2 for this.

I laughed my ass off. And then, of course, I replied that I wouldn't take a penny under $1000. Needless to say, we managed to come to a happy agreement somewhere in the middle using all of the advice listed in the article.

But it made my day. What a fun way to make a sale!

Thursday, January 25, 2007

The muzzle comes off.

I had hoped that the Bush Administration knew better than to let Cheney talk anymore.

A lack of credibility is "hogwash." Yeah, thanks, Dick. Real excellent assessment of the situation. Definitely makes me realize that you are the kind of guy who should be in charge of a war effort. Who needs to talk about improvements when we can all drink your Kool-Aid, wear some rosy-colored glasses, and then, say, do some hunting?

I don't know what I expected. I guess I should just be happy he didn't reference the WMDs again.

Did I fall asleep and wake up back in 1997?

Yesterday, I received an email from an old girlfriend of mine. We don't really keep all that much in touch anymore but, 5 or 6 years ago, we were pretty tight. For the most part, we're on each other's blast email lists, getting only the news that is important enough to be distributed to every single person listed in the Address book.

So I opened the email with interest. Maybe she was getting married or having a kid. But no. It was just an email address update. In it, she said, "My new email is randomhalfnakedanimecharacter_birthday. I had to get rid of my old address (collegenickname_lastinitial) because it just wasn't me anymore. Please update your address books accordingly."

First of all, I can't believe that folks still believe that their email address has something to do with their internal identity. I mean, frankly, in this day and age of spam blockers, if you want to converse with people you actually know, you should stick to an email that at least resembles your actual name. If you are trolling online for netsex, okay, sure, I can see why some sexy anime character might help you out. But when writing Mom, Grandpa and your old co-workers? Curious.

And second, well, I guess I can understand why she now wants to distance herself from her college nickname. It's been a lot of years and perhaps she no longer wants to think of herself as a many-drink-imbibing, party animal kind of girl. But how the hell does some objectified anime character now represent her more than a name she was actually given in person? Hell, how does one go through the process of deciding an anime character, especially a pathetic, scantily-clad one, is more "her"?

I am obviously thinking way too much about this.

Wednesday, January 24, 2007

And as I predicted...

...people are much more interested in the Oscar nominations. Now, if I read one more article about how Dreamgirls got the shaft, I might lose it. I mean, when this movie first came out, the critics didn't give it the two thumbs up. They said it wasn't as good as Chicago, didn't have as much to offer, wasn't as good as it could have been, blah blah blah. Kudos were given to both Eddie Murphy and Jennifer Hudson (especially for the latter's performance of "And I am telling you I'm not going") but most critics agreed that the film was fun but not all that inspirational.

So why now are people so surprised, especially given the caliber of films this year, that it did not get nominated for best picture?

I guess people just got to get mad about something. Like Beyonce's Dad saying how she didn't get the Golden Globe (when Eddie and Jennifer did) because she was black. That was a good one.

The State of the Union.

Well, I suppose I should admit that I totally zoned out during the speech. Honestly, I felt like I was watching just a mash-up of Bush's previous speeches with all of his "find our resolve," "for the sake of our own security," and "united in the goal of victory."

And I have to also admit that I missed ol' Bushie's trademark "stay the course." I think it would have added some much needed pizazz to this snoozer!

Now, my ears did perk up with his talk of a "civilian reserve corps." Ummm, forgive me, but don't we already have such corps in place with contracting agencies like Northrop, Halliburton and SAIC? And I have no idea how giving tax breaks for those who already have health insurance will help insure those who can't afford it. I'm beginning to wonder if Bush's answer for any problem is either "more troops" or "tax breaks," and he just couldn't figure out where to find some extra soldiers to help blitzkreig in a new healthcare plan.

But in any case, I didn't really hear anything new. I have to concur with Colorado Representative Tom Tancredo who said that the President "[trotted] out this same old pig, albeit one with a slightly new shade of lipstick." But in case you want to analyze the speech, and point out where Bush actually said something different while I was picking my nose, you can find the transcript on CNN.

Interesting editorial.

With Joseph E. Duncan III back in the news with his confession of 3 more child murders, this editorial on learning to talk about how to open up and discuss the inefficacy of Megan's Law couldn't be more timely.

Duncan, as the author points out, was registered as a sex offender. But that didn't stop him from shopping for more killers. How can we, as a society, really tackle the problem of child predators?

Tuesday, January 23, 2007

So, do you think there's any chance...

...that tonight's State of the Union address will be of more interest to Americans than today's Oscar nominations?

I'm guessing no.


Munchkin has started going "mmmm" whenever he eats. It's very funny. He'll scoop up a mouthful of rice, look at you intently and go, "Mmmmmm!" Then he'll do it again with each and every bite, waiting for praise. The boy knows already that it's always important to praise the cook. Otherwise, Mommy will nuke up chicken nuggets again.

Last night, however, when he got a big bite of green bean, he started to go, "Mmmmm," but had to stop half way to spit the offending bean out of his mouth with hurricane-wind-like force. But not to end the game, when his mouth was empty of the evil, green untasty thing, he finished his hearty "Mmmmm" sound.

But I think he's now gone too far. This morning, he pooped. And it was one of those demon-alien poops, the kind of poop that makes you wonder how such a little boy could pass such a big turd. The kind of poop where the scientific part of your brain wants to sort of examine the contents of the diaper to figure out what, in God's name, the kid ate to produce that disgusting waste (luckily, the offensive odor won't allow you to get that close). The kind of poop that you are afraid has a small, poop monster living inside that will jump out at any moment to scream at you like a small Alien, or perhaps offer sage advice like Kuato from "Total Recall." The kind of poop that makes you want to run screaming from the room.

And, of course, the kind of poop that, no matter how hard you try, your child is going to manage to get on his hands while you are going through two packages of diaper wipes to remove it all from his posterior.

As I tried to get it all off of Munchkin as quickly as possible, he got some on his little hand. And as he held that awful, stinky hand up to investigate the source of the goop, he looked up and me, fervishly working to clean him up before he put that hand in his mouth, and said, "Mmmmm?"

No, baby, no. Not "mmmm" at all.

Thank God it came out in the form of a question. Otherwise I might be worried.

Faith-based dieting?

This goes beyond "What would Jesus eat." This week, Steve Reynolds, a pastor in Annandale, Virginia preached "faith-based dieting" to his flock. And the money quote from him:

"About 40% of you need to lose weight. When you love potluck more than God, it's serious."

It's only a matter of time before the military chaplains start running with this trend. And if the outcome of that is that there are no more cream cheese brownies at our FRG potlucks, I'm going to open a serious can of whoop-ass.

After all, I do have an abundance of ass to be used.

Last time I checked, I still had another year to ignore politics.

So Hillary's in, as well as a bunch of others whose announcements were outshined by Hillary's "in to win" comments. And the insanity has commenced.

The first debate is going to be in February of this year in Nevada. has already placed a negative ad about McCain on the airwaves. And if I get that bullshit email forward one more time about how Barack Obama is -- God forbid -- Muslim (where Muslim somehow, someway equals terrorists) and has ties to suspected terrorist groups, I may lose my shit completely.

It's only 2007. We only got the new Congress and Senate up and running. Can't we postpone the insanity a little longer? Please? At least in the hope that people won't be so sick of politics that they'll abstain from voting.

Monday, January 22, 2007

Now, this is devotion.

And I don't know if I'm referring to the institution of marriage or a serious sports obsession that may, one day, require an intervention.

Wife induces labor so husband can go to Bears game.

An interesting new take on abortion.

This past Sunday's New York Times magazine features an article on an alleged post-abortion traumatic stress syndrome. Warning: it's long, but a good read.

Whether abortion is distasteful (or immoral, whatever flavor you choose bring to it -- I'll state upfront that I am pro-choice and do believe that there are cases where terminating a pregnancy can be a moral choice). But that isn't the point. For me, what is interesting is how far people are willing to go -- even publishing incredibly poor (and somewhat unethical) scientific studies -- in order to fight it. For what other medical procedure would we even tolerate this kind of behavior? What if "scientists" used their own personal beliefs to color research on the effects, physical or psychological, of chemotherapy, of organ transplants, of, God forbid, fertility treatments?

It's a seriously slippery slope, people. How far are we willing to let it go?

Oh, boy.

As it turns out, nothing is as fluid as a military training schedule. The days the guys will leave, how long they'll stay, what they'll do and when they'll return is always in flux. I don't like it but I've sort of learned to go with it. I've learned to basically mark my husband as unavailable for the three month period around any 4-6 week training exercise.

But somehow, even after so many goddamn years in the military, my husband isn't quite so smart.

He invited his parents to come visit this spring. And he did so close enough to the training exercise that he will now not be here for even a single day while they are here. He keeps saying that the schedule could change again but he's kidding himself now. Sure, it's possible but he's jinxed himself now. He's afraid to tell his mother that there's no chance in hell that he'll be here. One, because she's kind of scary. Two, because he's a chickenshit.

But I did tell them. Well, I mentioned the likelihood to CPT Dick's Dad, anyway. Needless to say, they are not thrilled. First, they haven't seen CPT Dick in several years. Second, they -- and by they, I mean his mother -- does not like me. I've got their grandson, which at least gives me some type of bargaining tool. But I'm preparing for a thoroughly unpleasant visit.

A week with the in-laws. A week of discussions of how I am not raising their grandson correctly. A week of thinly veiled insults about my weight. A week of my mother-in-law taking any comment that I say -- like, can you please pass the salt? -- as a personal affront. A week of being quietly reminded that their son could have done much better than me. A week of completely inane comments about the war and how I should convince CPT Dick to resign his commission.

Oh, golly gee, I cannot wait!