Wednesday, November 30, 2005

Awesomeness!!!!!!!!!!!!

Not. I bought these shoes yesterday: They're made by Dansko and, although you can't tell from the photo, the heel is really beautiful. Just slightly curved inward, almost lime-shaped. My timing is so amazingly amazing because........! This morning I finally went to the doctor about my coital ankle injury. I have done everything I could think of - ice, ace bandage, leverage, everything. Still, after two weeks, it remains the size of a prize-winning yam. And yes, it is sprained for real and why did I not come in sooner, yadda yadda yadda.... So now my doctor has ordered me (ordered!) off my high heels (off!!) for a month. A MONTH. I killed her with a tongue depressor. Oh, AND I have to go to stoopid physical therapy so I don't re-sprain. She asked me if I ever injured this ankle before and I responded with a sprightly, "No!" Then, on the way home I vaguely remembered falling off a sidewalk in Paris after a lovely drag show and a nine-course meal, drunkenly waving to a stranger and collapsing into the gutter, spraining (yes, spraining!) my ankle. And we wonder why they hate us. At any rate, I'm wearing my Docs and bemoaning my fate and already planning on SO defying doctor's orders, like rilly rilly soon. What, you think I'm wearing FLATS on my BIRTHDAY? Fuck you! "Well, hey, Ah mean, if y'all didn't want to go to war, you shoulda said somethin' at the time! Ah mean, Ah hate ta tell ya, but Ah'm not a mind-reader. Well, hell, why's everythang always gotta be mah fault?" And in today's celebrity gossip: The mother of two of Michael Jackson’s children has reportedly said that the babies were conceived from a test tube. An Irish publication is quoting Debbie Rowe as saying that Prince Michael Jr., 8, and Paris, 7, were both conceived using semen from a sperm bank. “Michael knows the truth — that he is not the natural father of Prince Michael Jr. and Paris,” Rowe said, according to the Irish newspaper Sunday World. “He has to come clean.” Well....DUHHHHH. I've said it before (like, eighty-seven times) and I'll say it again, people. HAS EVERYONE FORGOTTEN THAT MICHAEL JACKSON IS BLACK?? How does someone who used to look like this: Wind up with children who look like this? Those children are whiter than Hilary Duff's teeth. Why do people not care that Michael Jackson has two (or three?) children in his clutches WHO ARE CLEARLY NOT HIS?? WHY? WHYYYYY??? What is it, politically incorrect to say, "Dude, you're BLACK. Remember? Remember back when you still had a nose? Maybe you wanna tell us whose kids those are? No?" Fucking Hollywood.

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Monday, November 28, 2005

Monday Shameful Shoe Gallery

Today's Shameful Shoe Gallery is short and sweet. Because I'm feeling lazy. And vaguely bitter. Almondy, if you will. If there's anything that the movie "Snatch" has taught us, it's that Brad Pitt is at the top of his game when he's speaking gobbeldy-gook. That wall-eyed ranting was SO compelling, didn't he win a Golden Globe or something? Well, he should have. He should have won a Golden Solar System for that shit! If it were up to me, he'd win a Golden Shower, but that's a story for another time. Oh, I almost forgot! The OTHER thing we learned from "Snatch" is that pigs will eat you if they are hungry and/or feel so inclined (are trained to). All I'll say about the lovely clog shown here is, ladies, watch your toes. This pig looks famished. One thing that most women know from birth is that shoes speak to us. They have inner messages that float along the airwaves and enter our feeble, hormone-addled, non-science-understanding minds. They say, "Buy me!" or "Wear me to the prom!" or, in this case, "Please, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, hog-tie me and throw me in the back of your van!!!" This one simply says, "I......can't.........breathe.........." and clearly needs to be rescued by Johnny Depp in the most swashbuckling manner possible. All you need is a pair of eggplant-colored Uggs (appropriately named) and a bedazzler, and you too can look as though you just walked through a town of teeny, tiny people with bad cases of bronchitis. I've been racking my brain to figure out what the crocheted "M" on the back of this purple, tweed, pom-pommed, montrosity means. The most likely canidate seems to be, "Might as well kill myself now..."

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Saturday, November 26, 2005

Traitor

Saw Harry Potter. Thought it were crap. Sorry.

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Friday, November 25, 2005

Happy Thanksfarting

This year's potluck involved: 1. A frank and enthusiastic discussion of my sex life with people who have known me since I was three. 2. A game of charades with a room full of ex-hippie liberals that was so politically incorrect that we should have all been arrested. 3. A laughing fit that actually made me pee in my pants a little bit. (See above.) 4. The sobering realization that I have gained 10 pounds in the last year. (I only weigh myself once a year - at Thanksgiving. What? It's a ritual and they're the only people I know who own a scale.) 5. The development of what my mother fondly refers to as an "air baby." I'll let you figure that one out for yourself. (See title.) 6. My best charades clue contribution EVER. "Charade." One of my favorite movies - who can resist Cary Grant taking a shower in a suit? The woman who had to act it out simply reinacted our entire game in fast forward, it was great. 7. A casual conversation about meth and anal sex over turkey, stuffing, mashed, peas, gravy and cranberry chutney with my friend Marcia who works in an AIDS clinic. 8. The discovery that my parents were really hurt that I didn't invite them to my thirtieth birthday party. We live in different states!! It didn't even occur to me!! Still, I feel like an asshole, especially since my folks are actually a little cooler than my friends (sorry, friends). * 9. The sad acceptance that since I once ate garlic mashed potatoes when I was knocked up, I will never be able to eat them again no matter how many years have gone by. 10. Truly giving thanks this year for the simple fact that I could sit in a group of 16 people and say, "I can't eat garlic mashed potatoes because I ate them once when I was pregnant" without a single one of them judging me. I don't know what I did to deserve all this love, but I'll take it. I adore Thanksgiving. The people I spend it with are my parents friends but they're my friends too and I'm so lucky to have them. I may not be rich or famous, but there are times (more than you might think) when I feel like the luckiest girl in the world. Because I am. Happy Thanksgiving everyone. You are lucky too!! And it's the beginning of the holiday season - from here on out it's all pine scents and ribbons and snow on our hats. Don't you just love this time of year? Me too. *Yes, the parents are now invited and will be joining us for brunch. If you are reading this and are coming to the party, don't worry - they really are cooler than you. (Sorry again.)

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Tuesday, November 22, 2005

Pizza Farce

(Portland Farmer's Market, Labor Day Weekend '05) Setting: gourmet pizza place in my neighborhood, early evening. Cast: Sloth, The Den, Cashier, Pizza Guy. Scene 1: The Order Sloth and The Den enter stage left. The Den (hurtling towards the counter): "Two slices of pepperoni, please!" Sloth:"...." TD: "Oh, sorry, I always just jump in. What do you want?" S: "I, uh, hmm. What's the slice of the day...? Oooh, can't have sausage, I'll 'splode. Ummm.... letsee..." Meanwhile, The Den has received his slices and is over at the table stuffing them in his maw. S: "Ok, ummmmmmm..... can I have a small pizza with tomatoes -" Cashier: "Diced or sliced?" S: "Uhhhhhhhh.... sliced?" Cashier: "Ok." S: "And, letsee... basil? And onions. And onions." Cashier: (one eyebrow pointing upwards like a little teepee) "Onions and onions?" S: "Yes." Cashier:"...." S: "I'm basically looking for like a blizzard of onions." Cashier: "For here or to go?" S: "For here." Scene Two: The Order Change Sloth: "Hi there. Um, my boyfriend already finished his slices and I'm still waiting for my pizza so I was wondering if I could change my order from 'for here' to 'to go.'" Cashier: (crooky eyebrow again) "Sure." S: "And, I'll also get a slice of the day and a slice of pepperoni to go. For my roommate. In case he's....hungry....and I'll get a glass of cabernet too. For here." Cashier: "As opposed to a glass of wine to go?" S: "Haha.....uh....yeah." Cashier: "Ok, that will be twelve million dollars." S: "Jeepers." Scene Three: Where Shit Really Starts to Go Wrong Pizza guy: "Sloth!" Sloth: "Yes!" Pizza guy: (handing over a brown paper bag) "Here you go." S: "Great, thanks. Is this the pizza or the slices?" Pizza guy: (completely baffled) They're.........slices..........of pizza. S: "Right, right, ok. Thanks." Five minutes pass. Pizza guy: "Sloth!" S: "Yes!" Pizza guy: (handing me the full pizza) "You're going to have to eat some of this pizza now because they make it bigger when they think it's for here and I can't close the box. S: (groveling) "Oh! Well, that's good information to have!" Pizza guy: (fangs dripping with sarcasm) "Yeah, so change your order every time." S:"....." The Den: "Sweetie, you look sort of.....stricken." S: "I can't believe it. I'm THAT customer. I'm that customer that everyone hates because my logic is broken. Everything that comes out of my mouth is retarded." TD: ".........yeah, they hate you." Scene Four: Denouement Sloth: (approaching the counter, trying to figure out where to put my empty wine glass) "So, do I give this back to you guys?" Cashier and Pizza guy: (clearly wishing they could tell me to feel free to shove it up my ass and take it with me) "Yes, we'll take it." Fin.

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Monday, November 21, 2005

Monday Shameful Shoe Gallery

Well, it's that day of the week again and here we go with more shoes that have wandered away from Staten Island and gotten themselves lost. Let's send them home, shall we? Oops! Looks like someone forgot to trim before a hot date. This is why I always carry a pair of manicure scissors with me at all times. You never know when you might be thrust up against a yacht-owning, Rolex-wearing, brandy-drinking millionaire at a crowded Abe & Louie's. Wouldn't want to end up in the sack with a little extra fluff on your muff! Snippety-snip and you're screwing your way to St. Barts! And then, of course, there are those of us who are just trying to screw our way off of Sunset Boulevard. You know how it is these days. Everyone's all "recycle, recycle, recycle!!" Well, now all you tea-cozy makers and mitten-knitters can do your part too. Did you know that tub skirts are waaaay out of style? Well, they are and it's time to start putting them to good use. Don't forget the ruffle! Somewhere, Sheena Easton is rifling through her closet like a pig rooting through a pile of shit. She has a hot date and can't find her favorite pair of pumps, poor thing. I hope she remembers her manicure scissors... Umm....excuse me, waiter? There's a lung cancer on my shoe. Well, it's not like anyone PLANS on going to Hell, right? I mean, shit happens. And yeah, the lake of fire isn't any fun, but we get little breaks for stuff like eating (maggots), sleeping (on tacks) and sex (with Satan). For some reason he's really into rim jobs. He's got this long, red tongue and, man, does your ass burn afterward, but hey, anything's better than sitting on a fucking cloud, playing the harp with Pat Robertson. Oh, wait, I just saw him in the lava room. Fuck! Why can't I get away from that guy?? Happy Monday! New post tomorrow.

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Wednesday, November 16, 2005

Wee Snippets

1. I'm putting together my 30th birthday invitation list. I know it's vain and stupid but I would much rather be putting together my 29th birthday invitation list. 2. Now that he's nominated for what would ideally be a non-political job, Scalito is all like, "Dude, I wrote that memo saying that abortion should be completely and totally illegal like 20 years ago and I was trying to get a job with Reagan, gimme a break, it was a political job." Seems to me that Scalito's most obvious talent thus far is telling everyone exactly what they want to hear. Personally, I want to hear the sound of Scalito getting fisted in a leather bar, but to each her own. 3. There is a huge bee trundling around my office. Aren't the bees supposed to be dead already? It's moving slower than the Senate, but it's still moving. 4. I sprained my ankle having sex. No, it wasn't embarrassing at all, why do you ask? 5. I know you were wondering and, no, I did not win the lottery. Some wanker in California did and I DON'T RECALL APPROVING THAT. Five is enough. The week's half over. Time for a nap.

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Monday, November 14, 2005

Monday Shameful Shoe Gallery

It's the beginning of a new week and time for another installment of the Shameful Shoe Gallery where we take a gander at footwear that would be better off if shoved with gusto down the garbage disposal. These probably shouldn't even be included in the gallery, since they are not even meant for human beings. These are leprechaun shoes. More specifically, they are leprechaun social worker shoes. If you are small and jaunty and wearing a green hat and need to know where the nearest soup kitchen is because some asshole just stole your pot of gold, chances are the person at the agency who is helping you fill out po' folk forms is wearing these shoes. Two words: IDENTITY CRISIS. Is it crocodile? Is it snakeskin? Is it paisley? Is it leopard print? Is it painful? Is it offensive? Is it headed for incinerator? The answer to all of these questions is: INDUBITABLY!! When I was a kid my parents let me get a rabbit and we kept it in a hutch in the back yard. I promised I would feed it every single day but after a while I decided I don't like rabbits so I let it starve to death in the cold. Then I shaved it, skinned it, cut off its ears and made a pair of pumps. Voila. Awwwwwwwww. Look at the little bear. Isn't that sweet? Isn't that just the cutest little cuddly thing with its blue fur and demure smile? Did you know that in Japan they make vibrators with that motif? Adorable!! Let's just say there's more to Fred Flintstone than meets the eye.... This blingtastic boot is made by a company called "Baby Phat." I don't see a lot of baby fat on this boot but I sure do see a lot of shit. I think it had pureed broccoli and mommy's jewelry box for dinner, what do you think? For some reason, this Donald J. Pliner shoe is really, really, really suprised to see you. The uninitiated may not be aware that designers give their shoes names. The name of this $575 shoe is "Entangled," apparently because it got entangled in Elton John's bowtie when Sharon Osbourne kicked him in the neck at a charity event. Happy Monday, folks!

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Saturday, November 12, 2005

Quickie Update

Exams are over and I kicked so much ass that there is no ass left in the whole city. My apologies to the residents. Also spent five hours of quality gettin' drunk time with Dan Tobin who, as it turns out, is a total dick. With a mohawk. And no, we didn't talk about you, but we might next time. Dan, have your people call my people. And tie your gloves together with a string through the sleeves already, sheesh. Ok, people, this is a call to action. All I need is FOUR MORE PEOPLE to click on the link and do the thing with the thing over there in the sidebar and I WILL GET AN IPOD. And then all you will need is five people to click on YOUR link and YOU WILL GET AN IPOD TOO. Come on, guys, it's almost my birthday. Just four more of you. I'll send you something nice. I'll be your BFF!! And.....curtain.

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Monday, November 07, 2005

Midterm Exam Alert

Will return after dragon is slain. Thanks.

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Thursday, November 03, 2005

Splat.

A few days ago I ordered sixteen thousand items from Old Navy online. They arrived in the mail yesterday and exactly four of them fit (one is a scarf). The item I was most excited about was a light blue fleece. I've never actually owned a fleece before because I'm the sort of moron who buys $70 sweatshirts from Ann Taylor. I won't even try to justify it. So I wore my new, cozy, fuzzy fleece over to The Den's house after work and around 8 o'clock we decided to watch a documentary about cable car construction in Hong Kong because that's where he went to high school. What goes great with cable car documentaries? Red wine! Duh!! One thing that The Den's apartment is sorely lacking is a proper wine key. The one he has is the kind that starts out as a tube with a hole in the top and you pull the tube apart to reveal the screw bit and put the bottom of the tube through the hole in the top to make a T. It is retarded and Satanic and I always break the goddamn fucking cork with it. Last night's misadventure began when I broke the goddamn fucking cork in a bottle of cabernet, leaving about three millimeters of cork left in the neck. It was at this time that The Den suggested I push the rest of the cork into the bottle with a chopstick. What? I don't know! It seemed like a good idea! Anyone here ever seen "Dead Alive?" Well, APPARENTLY, pushing a bit of cork into a bottle of wine can sometimes leave one with that hip I-just-lawn-mowered-someone-to-death look. It causes a sort of "geyser" effect in which the wine suddenly decides to leave the bottle with a great deal of force and go straight INTO YOUR EYE, among other places. Those other places include the refrigerator, the floor, the wall, your hair, your ear, and your brand-new-just-arrived-in-the-mail light blue performance fleece. Learn from my mistakes, people. I make them so that you don't have to. In less depressing news......... How is it possible for someone to be this attractive? How is it EVEN POSSIBLE? Hasta Pasta!

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Tuesday, November 01, 2005

Answer Day

I'll just let this picture (and my unhealthy addiction to it) speak for itself. Ok, I said I would answer questions today so let's get to it! LiAps asked: You do NOT really want me to ask you questions about pooping. Do you? and Where is the love, Sloth?

Seth asked: How often is socially acceptable to shave your legs in winter? and If you had to pick year-round cold or hot, which do you choose? You can make up any other parameters. A/C, live on the slopes, or the beach, etc... The short answer is: NEVER. But there are caveats. If you don't treasure the heavenly, slippery feel of clean sheets on smooth legs AND you are a single gal, then fuck it. Let it all grow out, be a yeti for a few months (who's going to know?) and break out the gardening shears come Spring. If, however, you are in a relationship, your significant other may not appreciate this sudden pilary change, in which case it is back to every other day (if you're me). Secondly, if I had to pick year-round cold or hot, I'd pick cold. There are simply more fashion choices when layering is involved. Dave asked: If I was going to attempt to sell my photos online, is it worth the hassle? And why not? I ask why not because it seems your cart at smugmug doesn't work, which means the selling wasn't worth it? Dave, it all depends on how good your photos are. I think if you have talent and you believe that your vision would look good on someone's wall, then you should go for it. Set up a PayPal account or request checks/money orders, find a system that works for you and do it up. If you are computer savvy then you can perhaps create your own photo page, but I believe Flickr has purchasing options as well. There was a brief time when I wanted to sell my photos online and then someone left me a crappy, negative comment on Smugmug and I decided to remove my email address, the price list, and the option to buy from the page. I didn't intend to be petty, I just decided it wasn't worth it for me. And, honestly, I was embarrassed at the time that I had ever thought my pictures worth buying. Now the photos are just there for perusing, although, if anyone wants one, all they have to do is ask. Tot asked: Can you recommend a winter boot that is practical for this harsh Canadian climate and feminine? Since you mentioned "feminine," I went with all high heels. Let me know if you'd like me to recommend some flats as well. Or some with a chunkier sole. But anyway, the answer is yes, yes, yes, yes, and yes. Oh, and JESSSSSSSSS. Cooter asked: I would like to know why my $300 Donald J. Pliner shoes can't keep their zipper up. They're so cute, but I've stopped wearing them because I ACTUALLY stepped out of one once. Hmm......I'm sorry to say that I don't, in fact, know the answer to this question. So, as with many other things... ...I'll blame it on the dog. Vince asked: If you could not be a sloth, what animal would you be? And what would you call your blog? I would be a sea otter. I would call my blog "The Kelp Forest" because otters sleep wrapped up in giant kelp leaves to keep them from drifting out to sea. No shaving for me - every square inch of my skin has more hair than there is on your whole scalp I need it to keep warm. Instead of challenging you to best me at my sleeping abilities (as I do right up there under the title), I would challenge you to be ANYWHERE NEAR AS CUTE AS ME. Not possible, friend. Don't even try. E-Lo asked: Why am I so attracted to the color green? What should I name the Fuzz if it's a boy? There are times, E-Lo, when a certain color grabs you by the nape and insidiously manipulates all of your decisions about fashion, home decor and baby clothes until you are able to shake it. The colors that are ruling my life at the moment are wine red, winter white, and chocolate brown. I am obsessed with putting together a winter wardrobe that incorporates all of these colors to their maximum possible capacity. I went through a green phase, too. That's how I wound up with several pairs of green shoes, green pants, scarves, handbags, and etcetera. Last year I could not leave pink alone. Actually, it wouldn't leave me alone. How many pink handbags does one girl need? Well, according to myself last spring the answer was, apparently, FIVE. So don't feel bad. The thing is, if you're careful and prudent (unlike anything resembling me) you will eventually have a wonderful wardrobe of all sorts of colors that you can mix and match. One green scarf and maybe a handbag to go with it are enough. For boy's names, I'm partial to Aaron. Julie asked: How in the hell do you afford all these shoes, girl? and What maple syrup? A) Crack whore, shoe whore, same thing and B) THIS maple syrup. Coco asked: Are you still escorting at Planned Parenthood? The answer is..........no. I had to take a fuckin' break already. Have you ever woken up angry and not been able to figure out why? That was starting to happen to me more and more often. Also, there were a couple of mornings that I just. Couldn't. Do it. I would wake up at 6 a.m., look outside at the FREEZINGNESS and think, "I can't stand in front of these hateful people for three hours this morning and be screamed at. I just can't." The second time it happened I took myself out of the rotation because I figured it was better to not be scheduled at all than to be scheduled and not show up. I am not religious or spiritual, as you all know. I am an atheist, simple as that. But at some point I forgot that spirituality is not a black pall of evil over society and that believing in God doesn't make a person stupid. All I ever saw of religion, for 5 years, was those assholes standing in front of the clinic with veins standing out on their foreheads as they screamed at us and called us murderers. That, to me, was religion in all its glory. My perspective was dark, dark, dark. I forgot the power that belief has for healing wounds and giving strength. I forgot about all the good things that networks of churches do for the less fortunate. I forgot all the positive aspects of faith and saw only the rotten parts. Now, after a few months away from it, I feel a little rejuvenated and possibly ready to return soon. In any case, I sort of feel like I did my time. If I choose not to go back, I won't feel guilty. Evil Science Chick asked: Given the choices of your areas of expertise: sleeping, pooping, and buying shoes...which is your favorite? Also, if you were stranded on a desert island and could only have one pair of shoes, which pair would it be (can be ones you don't currently own, if there are in fact shoes in existance that you don't own)? The answer to your first question is absolutely and without a doubt SLEEEEEEPING. I am very sleepy and slow and when I'm not sleeping I enjoy ACTING as though I'm sleeping and when I'm not acting as though I'm sleeping I enjoy reposing in a position in which one might sleep while I am reading or watching tv. Girl, I am more lazy than Forest Whitaker's left eye. As for shoes on a desert island, it would definitely be this pair which I do not, in fact, own. Yet. They are comfortable, airy, and they protect the toes while you are hunting for sea urchins to eat. They can be worn in the water and are made of wicked strong stuff. Cybele asked: If you were to create a man, Mr. Perfect, as it were, would he a) share your shoe fanaticism b) support your shoe fanaticism without participating c) not be involved at all or d) other option that you will define? Option D: He would whole-heartedly support my shoe fanaticism while also paying for it. The Retropolitan asked: What's Sloth sound like? I will sincerely try to do an audio post at some point soon so you will really know. I'm a little squeaky but I try not to be. Ask Fleece, she knows. And finally, Pup asked: What would your stripper name be? What could be worst than having to travel (for work) on Halloween, the bestest holiday EVER? A) Spazzy McShavebumps B) How about THIS?? From today's celebrity gossip: Sarah Jessica Parker and Kristin Davis may have to temporarily trade their stilettos for sensible flats. The "Sex and the City" stars have both suffered recent injuries that will make slipping into their Manolos a wee bit painful. "I ran down the block a few weeks ago in these heels, just like I did for seven years, and woke up in the middle of the night in agony," Parker tells Closer magazine. "And it turns out that I'd torn the tendons in my foot -- just from running in heels!" Still, the actress insists she'll never give up her vertiginous footwear. Davis, meanwhile, tore a ligament during a fall at a Spanish hotel, says Sky News, which quotes her as saying, "I said to the doctor, 'I don't have any flat shoes! What am I gonna do?' I was conditioned, I was brainwashed for seven years that I have to wear heels ..." Aaaaaaaaaand we're done!!

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