Heidi Klum on Ellen with balls...

I just happened to catch this, and the entire show was hilarious. When Heidi first came out, she was in a VERY mini-dress, and realized (as she was getting to the chair) that she couldn't sit down. She kept saying: "What was I thinking coming to this show in a belted mini dress?" and Ellen was clearly uncomfortable, so she offered her an Ellen-t-shirt.

Ellen continued to blush and look down at Heidi's lap. It was the kind of moment where you catch yourself staring at the tv with raised eyebrows, tilted head, and goofy smile. Heidi is a pro-flirt, as she distracted the two of them with a comment about the huge ELLEN face sitting on her lap: "You have the bluest eyes.". Ellen blushes again.

Good TV. I obviously love to watch strange unexpected attractions and discomfort, but not in a "reality-TV" way, but rather a "we-just candidly-caught-you-picturing-Heidi-naked, Ellen"- way. I won't speculate too much, as it will bore you, and make you think I am over-sexed and over-analytical...but I think seeing that is just a sweet little life nugget of real behavior. We are, after all...human.

Take a look at the second half of their encounter (it's even funnier if you just listen to it):




"So we make small and big balls?" - HK
"Which do you like?" - ED
"Both" - HK
"I don't know a lot about balls, Heidi" - ED
"You have never tried balls? Is this your first ball experience?" - HK

I don't normally crush on the ladies, but some how watching Ellen getting all funny inside about Heidi Klum, made her LOOK sexy. What? I don't know. Everyone has an Ellen crush right? Whatever. Whose an anthropologist-psychologist-sexual behavior-person? They know. It's normal.

Whatever.

Leap into this SPRING ( stupid word pun, sorry)

Here we are. It is February 28th. Normally, that would be the last day of god-awful nasty wintery months. ( in places other than Chicago). But we get an extra day. A leap year day to let this month linger. What will you do with it?

I figure that March is the month right in the middle. People want to try and take note of all the things they didnt achieve since the new year. Women start to panic about their bodies, so magazines start the full throttle guilt and accosting of diets, and "5 lbs off in 5 weeks" and "bikini ready by May". So here we go. What will I do with my leap year extra day to better prepare for the month of basketball, spring-breaks and almost almost almost time to get excited about the perky blossoming of life returning to the center of this nation.

I will:

- Clean out the closet of ex boyfriend's numbers/emails I haven't used in a year.

- Do toe-crunches so my feet can look sexy in sandals.

- Set up tons of charitable things to do on 2/29 next year. (reoccuring) Copy people.

- Buy something bold colored and floral, like a spandex high-v unitard. I can do it. Watch.

- Oversell my positive outlook on spring, and then under-deliver .

- Read a few pages of some depressing book so I can say that "I started it"

- Hug everyone that speaks more than 10 words to me, for the sake of random awkward touches.

- Fill out a "March Madness pool" right now, so I can say I'm psychic.

- Do anything that other people have given up for lent, because it's like a "gimme" day.

- Re-watch "Margot at the Wedding" and not feel funny when she is face down, masturbating.

- Kick my husband in the nuts next time he lays a tea-bag on my legs. (s'ok, it happens)

- Interpret everything someone says as a total compliment, and say: "Oh..Thank you, you too."

- Meditate for REAL this time, no more of this "sending love and light" crap to OTHER people for thirty minutes. HEHSUS.

Go be grateful for the extra day. Make big things happen....I know I will.

Re-stacked at the office

Today is the day that our fateful seats have been given to those keeping a position here. It is funny, and fun. None of us care about anything. There are actually people playing "Guitar hero" in the cafeteria. Everyone is packing, and going to long "good bye" lunches.

Others, are playing mock-basketball with 5 year old folders, and apathetically saying things like: "not working never felt so bad". Some people started throwing an orange ball around. A co-worker said: "laughy-time is over." and I said: "Wait? Let's play dodge ball!" and then it began:

- "Let's play laser-tag except with glue-guns, or staple guns!"

- "Let's play chicken!"

- "Let's play Hide-the-something!"

- "Let's chase down the guy with a long pony-tail and receding hairline who wears a size "S" black leather coat. I want to see him run."

-"Let's tell people what we really think of them, out loud."

- "Let's dress up in ONLY company shirts left in the storage closets."

- "Let's start crying and hugging people we never knew."

-" Let's play freeze-tag"-

-"Let's play red-rover and body check people when they half-arse jog towards us."

-"Quick! Let's see how many people fit into the lactation room!"

Not many people can get laid off and laugh the way I can. Everything has humor. Just wait...shite happens, and if you can't stop it; make it fun. Except if its diarrhea, or getting beaten, or sitting on Dirty uncle Sanchez's lap.

Carry on. As you were. We are not where we were....oh, but we will be. I think.

Oh Paula....American Idol Top 10 Males.

Tonight was a good American Idol night.

It started with Michael Johns singing Fleet wood Mac. ( Nice). Then...I think Jason Castro did well, like Cruise-ship well. But well. Luke still scares me. He is a Tone-ranger. Yikes. Danny Noriega coined "ish" when asked if he agreed with Simon.

Can we all just take a minute to recognize that David Hernandez KILLED it. Whaaaaaa? How did I not notice him last week? Chikezie actually did well too. The perfectly-planned ending cherry on top topper was the tween and grandma vote...David Archuleta. Chill inducing. The best though, was when Paula Abdul said: "I just want to squeeze your head off and hang you on my rear-view mirror". Now that is funny. Paula gave us a good example of when well-meaning compliments can go awry. Let me take a few stabs here:

NOTE: You must say these with a monotone, low voice:

-"I want to bite the back of your neck and carry you around like a kitten."

-"You are so hot I want to make out with your perfect little face and then stow you away inconspicuously,in my middle drawer with the other toys under the white, v-neck t shirts."

-"Your skin is so soft it makes me want to drop you into a long stone well with a basket and some lotion."

-"You smell so good, I want to eat your hair,you know, the way you eat cotton candy on a sweaty hot day at the carnival, twirling your tongue and licking your fingers, misleading the zipper ride operator into thinking I'm being lascivious and inviting his beer belly and denim shorts over to my bench."

Okay, enough of that. I'd better go watch the Democratic debate. Stay Classy San Francisco.

It's that time...Updated Top 3 (get 'em, bed 'em)

1. Ryan Reynolds. For the love of abs....why does this guy make me want to throw a trapper-keeper down, pull off my panties and chase him down a long hallway? His looks are ridiculous, and his personality takes me back to high school. Maybe I am ovulating soon or something, but I want to lick his belly button. Scarlett may have real boobs, but it wont last. This guy was engaged to Alanis....he LOVES crazy, unstable, complicated, dark funny girls. I AM IN.

John Stewart: This needs no explanation. He is salt n pepper, he is funny, he has hairy hands...( that aren't small). It works. His smile is infectious, so is his girly giggle. Do you remember him in Playing by Heart? Now that is totally shagable. Plus, the guy doesn't get nervous....how does he keep so cool? I need stability...I will stabilize on his lap. (woa...I must be dropping eggs)

Jake Ryan: Maybe its the beautiful, grey mist of depressing cloud cover and cold, but I am reminiscing on the high-school years. The stomach-drops and long conversations on phones with actual chords. I miss hanging out in front of school building waiting for a crush to walk out, and then looking up shyly only to notice he didn't notice me. I miss that kind of pure longing and sweet redemption when the stars align with hormones and coolness, and you momentarily get the one you wanted. Awe.

For those who have forgotten. My husband and I have a deal....a running joke really, but it's fun. If you, by some miracle can "Get" an a-lister, you can "BED" them with no reprecussions. Hell, I would high-five him if he could bed Angelina Jolie...What? It's a decent proposal. It changes all the time. Bill Murray was my only shot so far...I think.

He has Scarlett, hm...maybe we stage a coup de coeur! Deux d'un!

Definitely, Maybe - Absolutely, Hell Yeah.

Let's face it. There have not been many good funny, PLAUSIBLE romantic comedies. I am a hard sell on love and relationships and making it funny. I still believe very few deliver. The eighties and early nineties did much better than most this decade. (4 weddings and a funeral, When Harry met Sally...etc)

I have to say ( and boo as you will) I loved Definitely, Maybe. I did. It was fresh, and well written by Adam Brooks. Ryan Reynolds plays an advertising executive about to finalize a divorce to the mother of his 10-yr old daughter. It then takes a trip down his past relationships. The trailers don't do it justice. It really is about falling in love, poor judgement, and bad timing.

Isla Fisher is particularly great in this movie. She is jaded, and vulnerable and spits retorts, witty takes on marriage, and dry statments of obvious with color and perfect timing. Overall, the charcters don't feel far-fetched. Daddy issues abound, survivalist nature of love and careers, and Ryan Reynold's character even manages to go through a stint of depression and says: "You need some life-rehab or something, I don't even know if they have it..." to Isla's character in a clear moment of psychological projection.

The lines are wry and funny, and so well delivered by Ryan Reynolds. Every woman will find one of the three ladies in question to identify with, if not all of them. I laughed out loud, I smiled inside at some of the more honest moments of awkward timing, and lust being contained. I cried, truly. Yep, I cried ( boo again, feck off). I am the same chick that went to see 300 by herself. You don't even know...

Judge away. I don't care, I will see it again, solely to remember how beautiful and tragic love and being lost can be. I will see it again to bring YOU better quotes that will convince you to see it.

For actual quotes from the movie Click Here

80th Academy Award Winners!

I am so pleased to see that Tilda won the award. She did a fantastic job with the nerves, and the last 3 minutes of the film. The scene in her slip where she practices the speech, the pressure, the feeling of having sold-out and power in equal measure? She brought that across without words. That is acting. It was palpable. Yeah for her. Sure beats winning an award for slapping Denzel Washington!

Other gleeful moments for me: When Glen started his speech with "Tanks!" and John Stewart's comment: "That guy is so arrogant." Loved that, even though he seemed a little impressed with himself on the DVD extras. I put on a sappy-face at Marketa's hopeful gratitude and inspirational speech ( that John gave her a chance to give after the break) Also fist-pumped when Diablo Cody won for screenplay, and on that note, I thought John Stewart's comment: "Enjoy the pay cut" about her transition from stripping to screenwriting was hilarious.

Based on the three songs from Enchanted. I will never, ever see that movie. Never. Sorry...and I watch EVERYTHING.

Anyway, the results in recap are as follows:

Best Motion Picture
WINNER: "No Country for Old Men"

Performance By An Actor In A Leading Role
WINNER: Daniel Day-Lewis in "There Will Be Blood""

Performance By An Actress In A Leading Role
WINNER: Marion Cotillard in "La Vie en Rose"

Performance By An Actor In A Supporting Role
WINNER: Javier Bardem in "No Country for Old Men"

Performance By An Actress In A Supporting Role
WINNER: Tilda Swinton in "Michael Clayton"

Achievement In Directing
WINNER: Joel Coen and Ethan Coen for "No Country for Old Men"

Adapted Screenplay
WINNER: "No Country for Old Men" by Joel Coen and Ethan Coen

Original Screenplay
WINNER: "Juno" by Diablo Cody

Achievement In Music Written For Motion Pictures (Original Song)
WINNER: Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova for "Falling Slowly" from "Once"

Achievement In Music Written For Motion Pictures (Original Score)
WINNER: Dario Marianelli for "Atonement"

Achievement In Cinematography
WINNER: Robert Elswit for "There Will Be Blood"

Achievement In Film Editing
WINNER: Christopher Rouse for "The Bourne Ultimatum""

Achievement In Costume Design
WINNER: Alexandra Byrne for "Elizabeth: The Golden Age"

Weird has gradations

There are things men do that can be divided into two categories. I was standing in the checkout line at Whole Foods picturing a few of them and thought I'd share.

So weird it's funny:
-He can sing all lyrics to Lisa Loeb's "Stay". Especially when he loses his breath and goes high pitch on: "Your only hearing neg-a-tive."

-In the most clinical of situations, he refers to your anatomy with one of the following words: "box" "tootooafoo" or "meat curtains" just to keep things "light".

-He has to eat all things on his plate in alphabetical order, with defaults in a pre-existing color scheme order. What do you do with Oatmeal, brownies, granola and wheat pasta...all on one plate?

Too scary to claim as an oversight:
-He likes to wear his towel around his torso, tucked under his armpits, with dangling parts for all the world to see.

-His second-life avatar is a billionaire with lots of friends.

-You have no children but he wants to call you "mommy".

Good things and a Jane Green book.

I can't be certain where it came from, I see Alec Baldwin saying it, and I think it was from Big Daddy; but I love to say it: "Good things." as a sentence, a hope and parting gesture not unlike "good luck." I haven't said it for a long time. Today it came back to me.

Not very many good things have been happening to me, despite my valiant meditation efforts, constant yoga, and job searching. That is not to say bad things are happening. Let's just say my day to day is lacking the semblance of normalcy it once had. Not many things are certain and my future is a bit of newly made water stream winding and eroding its way through the sediment and rock I once knew as "my life". Yep. Character building. Sure.

Almost as if in perfect unison with the laughing gods of will in my life today, I "finished" my funny, chick-lit vacation novel only to find out somewhere in my travels, or during transition from diaper bag, to purse, to briefcase, I lost the last page. The most important page.


I sat quietly on my couch this morning, amber candle burning, feeling indulgent with my time, the sunshine and the last 40 pages of this book. The climactic reckoning of the heroine was coming into place. As all dorks do, I started to get excited and nervous for how her (strangely too similar to my own) life would turn out.

I turn the page....Doh.

Nothing. The last words on the second-to-last page was her friend saying: "Good luck."

It seems only perfectly fitting that I would be left with hours of my most valuable and hard to find commodity-time, in a book that I can not know the ending to RIGHT NOW. Don't think it didn't cross my mind to run out to the book store and devour the last page, but...I'm too lazy and that's a little too crazy. ( even for me and my instant-gratification-need-to-know-now-personality)

So, I will assume good things happened. I will over-identify like I do with everything and see it as some cosmic sign that I need to sit tight, be patient and have faith that things will turn out well. Even if I can't read the last page. Open-ended can break a spirit, but it can leave a world of possibility up for notion.

Fine. You're right. It was just a book. Let's watch the Oscars!

Number Magic.

There are people in life who have the gift of mathematical intelligence. I, sadly, am not one of them. I get stumped if you yell any numeral with any generic multiplication or addition sign. I actually freeze physically if you mention division.

I am not sexist, but I have noticed that men have a way of using this simple attribute at their collective convenience. Most times it is not debatable. Numbers based on facts, spun or twisted from a different perceptive is similar to me restating a truth with word magic.

To minimize something:
Me: "Wow, can you believe we have dated for 3 months? Pretty substantial."
Him: "Lulu, It's been 90 days. Not even a billing cycle."

To drive home a point:
Me: "He wasn't that old. He was only 36"
Him: " You were 5 years out of high school then. That makes him 70% older."

To overstate:
Me: "I gained some weight when I got pregnant..so?"
Him: "You added 1/2 of your body onto your self, and only birthed 1/10th."

You + me - your number magic / my word magic = 100% < arguments

You go ahead...I'll meet you up there...later.

Life has a peculiar way of lining your road of whatever it is, with signs of where you have have been and signals to where you might go. Most of the journey we have our heads down counting each step, measuring it against the next guy. There are little forks in the road we take alone, so we keep our heads up with blind belief in ourselves or risk-seeking destructive behavior. No matter which path we choose,there are little blinking lights, arrows and perhaps even huge detour signs reflecting at us: "Wrong way" or "Bucks Crossing" or "No passing". Usually I ignore them. Lately, I am highly attentive.

I have a feeling my road signs are saying all sorts of proclamations of caution or fear-based warning, but I moving slowly in order to react. I am really just enjoying where I am. Parenthood, for example is hard. Really hard, but it has a cyclical flow to it. There are points where you truly believe if you have to unhook your nursing bra one more time, your entire soul will be sucked out of you and you will roam the earth with those dark-tortured apparitions from Ghost. But then there are times like now, when my two-year old says incredibly funny things. Like: "Mommy, you look like a monkey. I love monkeys. They swing." She has thoughts of her own, and she puts her hands on her hips (mirroring me).

Don't get me wrong. I love children. I really think I greatly dislike babies. Even my own. They are merely little sacks of need. I saw a best friend leaving the hospital last night and I think: "Jesus, she wont sleep for more than three-consecutive hours for the next four or five months" and I shiver.

I get to hand mine a sippy-cup instead of my boob.

I can say: "What is your problem? I think you need to get a grip or no cookie." to mine. She will spend weeks trying to learn which cry means what. No negotiation.

Mine says: "Tickle the bottom of my back, NOT the top, mama." I giggle at her lack of need to read: "Miss Bossy".

My friend will break her own back trying to figure out how best to bounce the crying infant while saying "sh.sh.sh." and running tap water and simulating a swing movement standing up while trying to sleep. Eek.

I know somewhere along my road, I want to bring another mini-me into the world. There is something beautiful in growing a family, watching those little wrinkly whimpering time-suckers turn into enchanting better versions of ourselves, but man is it hard. That is a road you can't run through, it runs you through, and it is long and up hill.

For now, I will stand on her sidelines and throw Gatorade, cheers, and maybe give her a piggy-back for a few miles here and there.

As for me...I will adopt a one-year old, or wait until I forget some more. We can't all be brave.

Idol losers, Democratic debate, and aliens attacking Boston!

Big night on TV. 4 idols got dumped: Garrett Haley, Amy Davis, Joanne Borgella, and Colton Berry. In other news, Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton had a good debate at UT. Obama (according to the CNN pundits) is favored and seemed more "presidential".

I have to pull from a Once song written by Glen Hansard in reference to the media's choice for the democratic race: "When your minds made up..." Scary. I love Obama, but big media does drive, or at least, steer the masses.


So....I am truly concerned and fascinated by this next little image. While eating popcorn and peanut m&m's on the couch and watching Anderson Pooper last night we noticed this, and we were concerned. Tonight, again....it has appeared. DAHHHHHHHH DAH DAHHHHHHHHH

What in Sheba's name is attacking David Gergen?











A mushroom topped blue-eyed squid!



Look again....closer:










A Rastafarian, acid-tripping elephant! (seriously, look at the feet)

I think I saw that very monster in 1995 from my apartment at the Harbor Towers....he's watching you. God Speed Bean town.

Love and Light, hold the muffin-top in tight. No more wine for me at night.

I will get serious tommorrow. Really.

Erica Hill and Anderson Cooper FLIRT on...Whose got guns?

Okay,
I rest my case. If you were watching tonight's show; you saw what I saw.In case you didn't, I took a few pictures to give a handy dandy recap. There is chemistry, there is love, there is teasing, maybe even some hair pulling behind doors. I was waiting for them to jump over their respective desks matrix-style and start making out. Fine, maybe its an act...but it is a damn good one. Here goes:


"Blah blah blah...exclaimation points..."


" You were GREEEEAT on Conan, Coops...."

"I have to say....we looked through footage, we couldn't find "the govinator" pointing at your guns..."

Translation: "Since we see each other naked, I am comfortable enough to call out your man-card AND call you a liar. Watch, people will dismiss it as false intimacy."


"Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha" ( spinal chord is setting on fire, he is trying to process if he is embarrassed or completely turned on by her display)



" I can't believe you are saying this!"


Translation: "I will crush your caramel perfect arse like this extra paper after this show. I want to bite your ear lobes and smell your shoes. "


Awe...the giggle loop. All is fair in news and sexual tension on live TV.

Now that, my humble hookers and homosexuals, is good, clean news delivery. I want to sleep with both of them now...who wouldn't?


Don't you quit on me.

American Idol (girly) boys. Season 7: Top 12

Can someone please tell me where all the men in America have gone?! Not that I should ever expect they would be on a show like AI, but not even a fair sampling? Every male contestant from last night either had frosted hair, whitened teeth and more concealer than I wear in a year. Is this what it has come down to? really?

Look, I get the gay men. That is fine. They are more clear with who they are....they can look pretty. What I am not as comfortable with is the "on the fencers".


Garrett Haley.....scares the bejesus out of me. Is his hair permmed, can we get him an IV?


Luke Menard was feeble. I don't know if he was emasculated for me when his wife picked him up in the audition film, or because he whisper-sang the whole song.


Colton Berry IS Ellen. He is on her show today(big surprise). Should be funny.

My vote (I dont vote, but you know what I mean) for voices and man-ness category:

Michael Johns- he actually has a sack and can sing. Really sing.


Robbie Carrico- A little man-mix of JT and Kid rock....only "x" against him was his mention of Britney Spears...yikes. Not a name to drop. That's like saying, "I went to cooking school with Jeffry Dahmer."


David Archulete- Good, Granny and tween-panty vote.

I am getting old. These are truly boys....I shall sit with my self-loathing for loving this show.

Does anyone know what Simon said to Paula at the cut-away when Michael Johns said "Thank you" to them? I think he said: "Aaaaaa Buuu" (simpon reference?) No.

In other (way more consequential news): OBAMA wins 10 in a row! His speech was amazing and substantial and quite frankly made me fear for his life. He is capable of changing the way people think of, view and engage in politics.

Obama and AI? Deplorable.

SNL is back with TINA FEY!

Time for a happy dance, and some giggle-voo doo! SNL is back on February 23rd with the first post-WGA strike episode. Tina Fey is set to host the show's return.

No doubt there will be political primary skits. "Mommy jeans" and "girl with no gadar" are also rumored to be on the docket. Next week ( March 1st) will be lead by Juno's Ellen Page.


(deep breathe)


It feels so good to have them back. Think of all the collective comedy juices that have been all pent up and ready to fire.

I can't wait. I think my mini world might be getting back on it's axis of reason.

10 ways to ensure you don't get a second date:

I think it would be a perfectly funny short film to watch a woman go on multiple first dates and do the following. See how forgiving, or accepting men can be....at the very least it would be entertaining:


1. Just stare and say nothing. I mean nothing. (Maybe nod)

2. Dismiss your rehab stint as a relocation package from your "product-testing" job.

3. Say: "I think you will love my mother, she might still be up when we get to my place."

4. Cry for absolutely no reason every time he gets within 3 inches of any part of your body.

5. Randomly, and with great fervor, name ex boyfriends.

6. Every ten minutes say: "now what?"

7. Be dead honest: "I don't want to work, I am really mean once every four weeks, I will blame you for everything, and I think we should go to therapy now."

8. While ruffling through your purse, pull out a Monistat 3 cartridge, a pack of cigarettes and some beano. Then say: "God, I can't find my wallet; I must have left it at the bath house.

9. Ask him if he believes in love at first sight, and then say: "awe. I love you too." (No matter what his answer)- Don’t laugh.

10. Show him the promise ring your dad gave you that you still wear.

I've got the video camera....Who’s in?!

Occupational apathy leads to loose lips.

In an effort to make light of our reorganized company, and imminent unemployment (at least temporarily) a friend and I are up to no good. Again.

Things we said to a co-worker today when asked: "What are your thoughts?" (Really, we just asked each other in public meetings, or places and came up with new answers)

1. " I think the applesauce tastes a bit metallic, and I don't understand why I never see female train conductors."

2. "Well, Stanley, I was hoping you wouldn't ask me that. That is precisely why I was making this quizzical face, doodling, and then staring at Jeff over there on my left so you would ask him. He actually started his turn-over notes."

3. "I think it must be said....I prefer the old lite 93.9 with Phil Collins, Wilson Phillips, and Annie Lenox instead of Fresh 105.9. It just reminds me of my mother's old smelly Toyota with the broken ceiling fabric that would shred strange foam onto me as we drove around. Um....that makes me feel warm and fuzzy."

4. "Who cares let's go see a movie!"

5. "That intern thought Castro was oil....God save the world."

Tally this!

I am so sick of the Tally game. And by "game", I mean the ridiculous imaginary board of who did what, who has it harder, who is stronger, smarter, thinner, better, more grateful, and other such non-sense. Life is too short.

Women suck. Seriously. I say this partly in jest, and with total awareness that I will exercise my right to revoke such a statement when I am feeling mushier and admiring of my species. I am not quite sure what the gain in competing with each other is. Show me a woman who is better for having compared herself to another and I will show you a fake.

Let me just collectively say to all women who want to upstage a story, explain how they have it harder, how they work more, and balance everything, and have no help and are less advantaged, and are less appreciated.....you win. YOU WIN.

No one is handing out medals or badges of war for this life. Quite frankly, there are women who walk ten miles a day with three kids to get infested water to boil eight-month old rice. There are women battling cancer and degenerative diseases while still getting up in the morning grateful for the time, there are women missing appendages that can beat me at any physical race. It’s just the way it is. All is relative, all is up for grabs. Everything is what you make it. What WE make it.

If we don't support each other, stick together, love each other and be kind, what is left? The rat race doesn’t end, and if we all are spending so much time punishing each other for having it better, or not having it as bad, or having it too easy, or not trying hard enough at whatever our relative gauge says is "enough"....then too much energy is serving the wrong reasons.

I visited a friend in the hospital yesterday. All the women in the room were busy comparing how horrific their birthing experiences were. (Including me). Then, the nurse wants my friend to rate the pain level 1 to 10. All I could think was maybe her "5" is my "10" or vice versa. The point is...who gives a shit! Just help when you can, and support the people you love. I tally the friends I have; the gifts life gives me and the beauty in understanding relativity.

Life is hard as it is....be soft. At the very least...fecking try.

Things NOT to say in an interview: Radar Magazine

I love these guys! Todd Levin, Jason Roeder, Mike Sacks, and Ted Travelstead came up with 100 things NOT to say in a job interview. (March, 2008 Radar Magazine). A few of my favorites:

1. "Sorry I'm late. I could have sworn you said 'San Francisco'"
2. "Where I come from that kind of question will get you shot."
7. "Is Jesus considered a personal reference?"
19. "Think of me as the Hamburger Helper to your skillet of ground workload."
21. "Funny, everyone who reads my resume always hones right in on the manslaughter."
23. "Let's just cut to the chase: who and where is the office slut?"
35. "Lets try that again, and this time shake my hands like you’ve got a pair.'
38. "Allow me to answer that with a tambourine solo."
41. "I just need to make enough money not to hate myself for selling out."
48. "Sure, I value a diverse workplace. Your kind deserves a leg up."
53. "I'll take off this cap when the Cubbies win the series and not a day sooner" (YES)
66. "Why is your typewriter connected to your TV set?"
71. "If I could be a historical figure.....Skeletor."
81. "I can’t wait to blog about this job."
86. "I see, but its fine if a black person like you says it?"
91. "Each of my personalities will require its own compensation package."

I really think these guys are my new top 4.....I will investigate if I can love on them. They could giggle me' britches off.

Some ideas...for V-day cards:

This is a fun topic. I really did revel in the days when you got to show up at school with your lollipops, or sweethearts. It started young. I would count mine to see how many people liked me. I would write special notes to the boys I liked. "I like you." was a popular one. Girlfriends would get: "You are my favorite friend." I meant it. Mom and dad got the best ones, and then later in class we would make some kind of cut-out, felt and glue thingymajig and the world was set right by love.

What would happen if we kept the honesty of our young selves and wrote those same type of notes now? Here are some ideas:

"Happy Valentines day, enjoy it. Its our last."

"You are cute, and nice, and I was single at Christmas, so it made sense to get serious, but as it turns out you are just as mediocre as I suspected, and spring will be here soon, so let's be friends k?"

"The sex was good at the beginning when you were new, and exciting, but now it's really just no foreplay and choreish, and I think we both deserve better, especially me. Take care. "

"I like you, we have only been dating a few months, so instead of jewelry, or a trip, or nice dinner, I am sending you these carnations to your work, so it looks like I care enough, and hedges my bets that you might not be the one."

"I love you so much every day, that the obnoxious lemming-like plunge into forced intimacy will be protested by me, in observance of my immesense repsect for you as a woman. I will stay home and watch the game. But randomly, later...I will romance you."

"Let's get dinner, and I'll get you drunk so we both wont be alone tonight."

By the way....does anyone know the history of Saint Valentine.....yeah...exactly.

Valentine's high five.

Ok, I am going to be real honest here. I am NOT one of those girls that pretend she doesn’t buy into the whole Valentine's thing, and then get upset when I don’t get anything. I really think it is mildly insulting as a woman to be accosted by such silly expectations. Ironically, I did wake up singing: "There's nothing you can do that can't be done....There's nothing you can sing that can't be song..." (Which doesn’t make sense, have you ever noticed?) Its sounds good though. Anyway.

If you find a man who is going to love you for who you are, and treat you well...that should happen (loved and treated well) most days, not just exemplified on the same day every other schmuck is claiming to love his wife/girlfriend/ex/partner....seriously? For sheer disgust of the commercials I revolt against it.

I saw a Zales commercial that showed two women getting texts from a girlfriend detailing what she got, and that SOMEHOW is how they defined her worth, or value that day. Bullocks! Sure, I am jaded, and I am not good at receiving gifts. Diamonds make me uncomfortable...conflicts, dead African babies...you know, I don't enjoy flowers...they die and the water smells like Chernobyl after a few days. Chocolates work. I like chocolates, but all the time. So, what is a girl to do? I say....high five strangers and say: "Hey.... (Chuckle and smile) Love ya, who cares?!" See what happens. I will do it all day today on the resort.

There. Rant complete. Go out there, grab a pre-written hallmark card of affection that says just the exact perfect words you would say to your lovey ( that is widely relative enough to what other people would say to warrant a print of thousands) and manufacture some romanticism.

High Five lovers! All you need is love….

Ommmmmmmmm. Shanti Nanti.

There is something about doing yoga on the beach at sunrise in Maui. The way the winds blows from two different directions to hold me as stable as possible in tree pose. My feet feel grounded into the sand as if magical ties have looped around them to hold me sturdy, still. I have to find it somewhat interesting to process the things that popped into my mind in the most (supposed) calming places, in the most peaceful of practices....

1. What SHOULD you do with a sex offender who wins $10M in the lottery?
2. Am I going to have to blow dry my hair.
3. Did that scary fat man just walk by and stop to look at me?
4 That’s mean, if he were a hot, tan, salt n pepper haired surfer, Id welcome it. (Bad)
5. Wonder how my mother is doing?
6. I need to buy wool socks when I get home.
7. I can’t believe hundreds of years ago people stood here, fishing, hunting. We eat strawberry poppy seed salads and hand our children snacks full of hydrogenated oils.
8. If I have faith in which I become I can be anything....by becoming who I have faith in. (good one)
9. Where did this fat belt on my stomach come from?
10. BREATHE.

The mind is a mystery. Even tranquility can't be forced. Namasta.

Grammy no see.

First off, I am besides myself for not having seen the Grammy Awards. I truly have no idea how it played out, and in spite of my frustration with America's obession with rehab starlets, I was morbidly curious to see Amy Winehouse. Damnit.

That said, I wont be complaining too much as I had a love fest over the Pacific ocean. One might consider my journey to seem exhausting. My 2 year old, husband, 5 bags ( I cant pack light) and myself boarding a plane to Hawaii. Right at the climactic moment of take off, I heard an alarm go off in the cock pit. Did I panic with fear? No. I panicked at the thought that we would be grounded on the tarmack. I hate my intuition. We sat for three hours staring down an eight hour and eighteen minute flight.

Behind me was a couple who had been married for 59 years . MARRIED. I don't know anybody who has done anything other than BREATHE consecutively for 59 years. Let alone, be attached. It was amazing. The Lesbian couple to my side, and the stinky, overly drunk dude fuming of onions and taxi cab in my kitty corner. So it goes. About the love fest...

My daughter was a dream. Not the kind of well-behaved scale of she didnt throw anything or scream at the top of her lungs...I mean we snuggled. We talked, we laid together we watched Dora, we dined and drank. It was unbelievable. Almost as if she knew we were heading to something better ( the tempeture change including windchills was about an 80 degree difference). Maybe there is something about a voyage, maybe Bill Murray was right in "Lost in Translation" when he said: "One day..they learn to walk and talk and they become the most delightful people you will ever meet." She had been up since 6:am Chicago time, and didn't get a chance to sleep until 1:00am the next morning ( which was 9pm here). My little trooper.

I have no great review of an award show, I have nothing funny or insightful to say about today's commercialzed quota-filling for music, or Kanye's wins, Joni Mitchell's instrumental nod, or brag about the fact that I saw Herbie Hancock live in a small venue in Sydney....All I can say is:

Mahalo. The greatest journey, the stuff people write and sing songs that win awards about can be on going, but its fruiation will pop up (like on an airplane) and remind you how far you have come. Mine, was a little girl who happens to be an extension of myself returning my love-investments in spades!

New York Magazine "writes" the rest of Grey's Anatomy.

I couldn't help myself from offering up this clever and silly article I found in New York Magainze. Not only is it hilarious with the obnoxious plot lines, it also has really funny songs as the episode titles.

Take a look.

http://nymag.com/news/features/43592/index3.html

How funny would it be if we all interrupted people while they were telling stories and gave them our perspective choice of how it might be funnier? Like those choose-your-ending books, but in real time, in your face. I'm sure it would be annoying on the receiving end, but hot damn that would be a creative alternative to this sitcom, TV, dry spell.

The only thing that could have made this article better, was if it referenced how many times they say the SAME exact sentence, but with different inflection, pace and tone. Maybe that writer should stay on strike.

Cristina: "Seriously? I am NOT going to let you get stuck in dark and twisty, angry-girl phase."Then, a nano second later:
Cristina: "Seriously...SERIOUSLY. I am not, (pause) going to letttttt (over annunciation) you get stuck in dark and twisty (weird hand motion) angry-girl phase. Ok?"
Both girls go back to pouting and deep breathing while staring out at the hospital floor.

Seriously. I do miss seeing Eric Dane. I DO MISS HIM.

John Mayer as Borat (thong baby)

I Love the Huffington Post for putting this picture up. I know it is invasive, I know that there are such better uses of my time, my space in the WWW and I could even be compassionate. I actually saw this the day it came out on http://thatsblogtastic.typepad.com/. For some reason, I didn't post the picture in respect for his privacy. I worried maybe some PR rep would can my site, or I would contribute to his humiliation. Then I realized no one cares. The Huff did it... I feel no shame. Who doesn't want to see John Mayer in a gripping, neon v-thong?I really would have imagined him to be a groomer...oh well.


Oh the regret! Maybe his millions make it ok. Who knows? HIS body was a wonderland that day.

That's a niicccccccccccccccce.

Why are people mean?

Martha Beck answered this question in a 2003 November article of O Magazine:

"Why are people mean? Here's the short answer: They're hurt. Here's the long answer: They're really hurt. At some point, somebody—their parents, their lovers, Lady Luck—did them dirty. They were crushed. And they're still afraid the pain will never stop, or that it will happen again. There. I've just described every single person living on planet Earth. The fact is that we've all been hurt, and we're all wounded, but not all of us are mean. Why not? Because some people realize that their history of suffering can be a hero's saga rather than a victim's whine, depending on how they "write" it. The moment we begin tolerating meanness, in ourselves or others, we are using our authorial power in the service of wrongdoing. We have both the capacity and the obligation to do better."

Abso-fecking-lutely. But.....that is the inner-peaced, happy and stable, balanced, possibly therapized answer. There has got to be some better ones. I remember my mother always telling me that people who were mean were jealous. That worked until I fought back in sixth grade and got pimp-slapped by an eighth grader who had bigger boobs, no braces, and lots of James Avery rings from boys. Uhh....she was NOT jealous.

That's why I think people are mean, mostly, because they can be. I find it fun and entertaining when in jest, or in the comfort of my living room, but when is enough; enough? I think people who are mean-spirited to hurt someone should be left alone for days on end. Isolation with the malevolence of their own minds.

I don't know the real answers, I resolve to not knowing. I do know (from tons of experience) that it is WAY easier to be mean. Quick! Try saying three nice things about Britnesy Spears. Seriously. Maybe write a really really funny poem about all your faults and sit on it, ponder your imperfections...then contemplate your previously necessary mean dig. Maybe step out of yourself and look at the world as a whole from 100,000 feet.....see if your angst is significant in the bigger scheme of things? There are some people I have witnessed who seem to be mean-ninjas. They feel like the world is better for them having thrown down the sword of mean truth, or spin-kick,bubble-popping inspiration and positive change. I have been that person every blue moon. Sometimes I even chalk(ed) it up to pest-control, or managing the general ego of others. Sometimes, it was just to get a laugh. Shameful.

I guess I challenge you and everyone to try and be nice. See if it is contagious. We can consider it a meanlessness experiment. After all, it won’t last. We all know that, so what harm is a little absence of negativity?

I'll start. "Wow, you look really good right now; your face has a youthful, yet insightful glow from the computer screen light. You are so very loved. Tomorrow is going to be a big day for you. Big things are happening...lady luck and love are gaining on today’s bend and shall see you sometime after daylight next. Thanks for being you!"

Karma blows...be kind...know it, fear it. Go be a ninja of nice.

Oppurtunity and tools.

How many times a day do you remember the VERY thing you need, only to notice, it is sitting on the counter by the cable bill, under the electronics-caddy? Yeah...me too. A few things that come to mind:

1. My voice-recorder. When I have a great brainstorming idea that would make an incredible post. Since the VR was at home....this is what you get.

2. A personal cheerleader. When you recover from a terrible snow-spill by doing the "running-man" on ice.

3. Your Palm pilot full of all your numbers. (That you haven’t transferred to your phone). When you realize that "so-n-so" would totally remember that obscure movie reference that is tormenting your brain's memory.

4. The camera. On a perfect picture moment date or outing that could really be your next Christmas card.

5. The little book-reader light. After you have already washed your face, brushed your teeth, turned out all the lights, and gotten in to bed. Forget it. I will watch Letterman.

Lucky by Nada Surf...

Lucky, out yesterday, is an album by Brooklynites: Nada Surf. Three guys with a sound I can't quite explain. It sounds like young Tom Petty, but the lyrics are so real and open and conversationally poetic. I haven't yet, but I suspect if I scratch a little deeper it might be quite insightful. I think Guster, and The Samples, and yet neither of them. I'm stumped but interested. Maybe, just maybe...they sound like Nada Surf. Oh, and get this...I love it: They harmonize. Check it out.

http://www.myspace.com/nadasurf
Songs I dig off the album:

-The last minute of "See these bones". I feel like running out into the 12" of white fluff falling outside right now, stretching my arms out as far as I can, opening my mouth to catch snowflakes and spinning until I drop into snow-angels. Yep. Really. (I also wish my bones were showing, it’s all winter chub right now)

- "Here goes something" feels like an early Beatles song. You can't help swaying and smiling with apathy. I tried stomping with high-knees...it didn’t work. Stick to sway.

-"Weightless" sounds perfectly like a melodramatic high school love and angst song."Behind every great desire/is another one/waiting to be liberated/when the first one's sated". Um...words cannot articulate my equal agreement and disdainful understanding of that line.

-"From Now on" is a great running, 80's dancing song. "You have to invent what you lack". This song is hidden poetry when you take time to really listen to the thoughts and admissions behind the words. Oh, the game of power in giving up and giving in with relationships. Who doesn't say those three words and try to see things differently.

And of course....
The sad, folksy, Irish-forlorn sounding song “The film did not go 'round" makes me want to cry. They even made a round sound cool. "Everyone's gotta leave their love sometimes". This song won’t change your world, or strike the match to a burning epiphany...but it does make you think a little.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some snow blowing, spinning, and ponderment waiting for me on the replay of this album. Go easy, go sleazy, or just go be better every day...at something, anything, everything.

I love musical inspiration.

OBAMA projected to win first state polls. (GA)

Quick happy dance for Obama projected to win GA. The first state polls to come in today. I feel guilty and silly for having done some of the trivial things I did today. Like buying a sweater for Maui, writing a post on ex-boyfriends, complaining about not having any lunch at work... In hind sight...it is what it is. Triviality has its place. So does change.

More later. Go Obama. Hip Hip Hooray for the "young"(and all) voters.

Why? It's not fair.

1. Why are all pig-cartoons pant-less? Pork Chops, piglets...literally. It doesn’t seem fair.

2. Why do people think a movie is good just because it broaches death and forgiving? It doesn’t seem fair. What if a movie is about living and grudges...that can be poignant.

3. Why are all the "volunteers" at the voter’s station over 75, and unable to see the names on the tear pads, let alone thumb through them? It’s not fair to them, or me.

4. Why does the guy who has 21 items get to go in the "15 items or less" checkout at the grocery store and shrug it off as close. I have 5 items. He cheated. I don’t get to throw a $20.00 at the woman behind the register for a 28.00 bill because it’s "close". It’s not fair.

5. Why are Filipino girls being advertised on my website? Is that for trade? Is my ignorance, liberal use of sexy topics and need for advertisers some how playing me as a pawn in the human traffic war. If so...that’s really flippin unfair.

6. Why are half the people I know if NYC unemployed and seemingly happy. Is it a guise, is there some secret pact half the New Yorkers make to just be rich and successful and happy without working? It’s not fair...I'm on to you.

7. Why does it take 20 odd therapy sessions of small talk with intermitnant list-like rants to get anywhere, if we are anywhere. Are we anywhere? That’s expensive and unfair. I want to be perfectly stable, balanced and well RIGHT NOW.

8. Why does a man get the SAME virus or cold I get, and it only last 2 days for him, but I sneeze and fever my way through two weeks? Is that a chromosome thing? It just doesn’t seem fair.

9. Why does it feel like I am complaining so much, when I actually am just trying to be funny? There is a threshold somewhere here, I missed the turn. damnit.

10. Why does it seem that every time I decide to sit down and watch some episode of some show I have been meaning to get into, It always ALWAYS seems to be the ONLY one I’ve already seen?

The Spectrum of Ex

Let's talk about sex, ok no, lets talk about exes. Everyone has one (usually) and most likely they fall into one of these categories. Reveling or the mere mention of one of them can lead to one of these below categories of reaction:

Tummy Tingles Tango: Just thinking of this person can cause a sweet butterfly effect in your belly. Things might not have worked out. You are a little forlorn, but it was sweet and innocent and there was love involved on some level. Just reading this makes you want to send an email, but you know better...it's been years, and those dogs are rolled over and fast asleep. Warm fuzzy memories of who you were when you were loved by this person reminds you of youth and freedom and long French kisses. (Say it together....Awe)

My Best Mistake: This ex is a particular breed of WRONG for you. You can recount the circumstantial justifications of your "togetherness" with perfect clarity in hindsight. "Everyone goes through that stage"...you need someone older, your self-esteem was low, it felt dangerous and rebellious, or it was just a stepping stone, whatever that may be...if you met that person today for the first time, you would run away screaming or breakdown and laugh. We grow from our mistakes. Sometimes.

The Recycle Bin Recovery: A.k.a: "Back pocket person" - Oh don't act surprised. We all go back to the comfort of an old notch on the belt, even if only for a little pick-me-up. You just can’t let it be the same person as the previous "My Best Mistake" that could lead to uber-emotional trauma. This one can be a strategic ladder step on the hierarchy of relationship evolution, but look closely, there could be some equally good or damning reasons you can't resist the rotation.

The Lingerer: Careful not to judge, most likely we have ALL been one of these. Can't take the hint. You change your number, your email. You're polite pushaways have turned into button-pushing personal attacks, and they still send an email like no time has passed, giving you family updates and suggesting you get together for coffee or a peanut. Ugh.

The Radio Silence Black out: This is the ex that you felt so much for, loved so hard, and gave all you could to, and lost everything thinking this was your soul-mate...Could have been. Who cares. It was toxic. Maybe you keep the little nightlight on, maybe you secretly dream of some storybook ending, but you can't. If there is ZERO contact that started immediately after some spontaneous combustion moment or worse a shameful ending of egos...The frequency MUST REMAIN OFF. If you hold the hope of reconnecting like a restaurant buzzer, watching for the vibration and lights to flash with excitement, you are in for some dismal repeats of pain.

$20 Dollar in the gutter: This is an ego-validation ex. You seem to be a little light on confidence cash. So you seem him/her, poke it with an umbrella first (read: send an email). Then maybe you stick some wadded gum on the end to keep your distance in case someone sees (read: write something nostalgic or sexy) and if the wind doesn’t blow, and your conscience doesn’t get you...you are a little richer.

Play fair lovers and friends. The plateau of relationship happiness is best appreciated when considering where you have been, how you got there, and being honest with yourself.

Catch the impending "Ex-dom" in the early stages....STAY UNATTACHED!

"Laddy" awards: The Best Superbowl Spots

Now, it is hard for me to really focus on anything other than how perfect Tom Brady looks on my big screen. Why was he the ONLY Patriots player that did not wear a helmet coming on the field? (Giselle must give him modeling - hot shot tips) He looked good, but don't act so much like you know it. Reminds me of a song by "The Streets".

Let's get to it. I rated the commercials I felt notable...on creativity, originality, relevance to their target-market and my scientific formula of total objectivity, I gave them a score of 1 to 10.

1 - Completely forgettable
10- Going to get blogged, YouTube'd, and discussed nationwide on Monday morning.

Best use of thirty $90,000-seconds goes to....


Winner! - AB : "Bud Light. Suck one." - Will Ferril as "Jackie Moon"....10

Pepsi: Haddaway's "Baby don’t hurt me." Narcolepsy ....So clever!........9

TidetoGo: Loved the talking stain. Funny. Situationally quirky....9

AMP'd energy drink: Nipples charging batteries. Smart.....8.5

Audi/R8: Total Man-card winner. Godfather throw-back.......8

AB/Budweiser: Wine and Cheese party.........Well played........8

Pepsi/Amazon Mp3: Cross-marketing that doesn’t take itself too seriously..JT was cute..7

Planters Peanuts: Unibrow girl........good stuff.......7

CareerBuilder.com: "Follow your heart".....attention getting with
Shock-value and then ended inspirationally...........7

FedEx: Bird delivery was funny, fast and captivating......7

Coca cola: Reaching the Baby Boomers with the political "awe" moment....6

Coca Cola:Macy's day parade- imaginative.Who doesnt like Charlie brown?.....6

Dell: Very target specific, doing well by the world and Africa......6

Etrade: Baby spit up. Got the point across......5

Grannis/iTunes/Doritos: WHAT? Someone send the cross-marketers the memo that too many messages lose the consumer... Bum Bum Bum BAD.......0


"A lot of sweat goes into every bottle....not literally, that would be gross. But you know what I mean......(director: CUT!)" - Jackie Moon

Top 3 Update for February.(Get'm Bed'm)

Now that I am feeling like myself again....I can think about men. So...
1.) Tom Brady - He will win the big game and make American History. I don't want to hear him speak or watch him be disgruntled about the praise he is getting. I just like to look at him, a physcial specimen handling all kinds of pressure and orchastrating 11 men whilst millions watch. That's sexy.








2.) Christian Bale: This man can ACT! I loved him in American Psycho, he was incredibly heroic in Rescue Dawn, and everything in between, including Batman. He just looks good. I think he smells good too. Like man-room, clean soap and leather. Sibi is a lucky little lady.



3.) Eric Dane: I miss Grey's Anatomy. Not because I love the way they repeat every word for emphasis, Not becuase I can't get enough of Dr. Gray and McDreamy having emo-power plays....Mostly because I miss looking at Eric Dane and his sweet steal eyes and pursed pink lips. This man is chemically imbalanced with testerone overload. Everything he does exudes sex.He could throw like a girl, trip over a rug corner, fall on his face and then mis use a cliche catch phrase all in the same minute, and still look sexy to me. His is probably the ONLY beard that I want to tickle me in oppurtunistic places. Hm....

In high school we named boys that we had crushes on in ranking order of possibility. "No arms" was someone you could never, under any circumstance, date. If the guy you really like was "out of arm's reach" this guy was ungettable. Hence, the term "No arms". Mine, in high school was a man named: Brad Norton. The misfortune and irony of how that played out is novel worthy. A sink. A senior. A loss for me. Then single, A bar in Boston on Boylston -no dice, then, a hardware store in Chicago, no dice. What are the odds that a crush reappears randomly in your life over 10 years only to show you life plays good jokes? I think he is married to a playboy sex-talk host...so it goes.

I should adjust my list....these are all "No arms", actually if the phrase had to be updated for these guys...it would be "No appendage". Yet...I think hard on it anyway. Yum Yum Yum.

3 things that feel fantastic when you're sick:

I have been "sick like dog" lately. Fever, runny nose....basically the tag line the Nyquil commercial. A few things have made me feel good during these cold/flu season:

1.) Burping. No joke. Burping (I am unable to do it voluntarily, so it comes as little surprise moments of reprieve) tickles a scratchy throat. I think it’s the air pressure, or the contraction of the larynx...who knows. Who cares? Burp a lot if you can.

2.) Neck-head rolls. I know I may look like I am some wanna-be-sexy-dancer that should be sitting open-legged on a backwards chair when I do this, but it somehow dislodges mucous from all sinus passage ways. Head hangs in front, then slowly (and with an open mouth) rolls to the right, back and then left and to the front. Doing it for about 2 minutes works well. Yep. I just let Mucous and sexy share a sentence. I'm crazy.

3.) Aquaphor. Maybe you know what this is, maybe you don't. It’s a liquid-based skin protect ant for burns, dry-skin, babies. Mostly used for infants. I put it on my daughter when the air is so cold her boogers freeze. So...I tried it all over my LIPS. Ahhhh...I looked like I had gone head first into a placenta sac, but it felt fantastic. There are few things worse than mouth-breathing your way to arid, cracked lips. Worse...I couldn’t laugh without bleeding. Now that should never be allowed. Laughing and bleeding. That’s like counter-intuitive torture.

The great grey skies of flu/cold fog parted this morning. I sound like a raspy cigarette-smoking Simpson's Aunt, but I can breathe again. I woke up, and both nostrils worked. My body wasn’t begging me to lie back down, and I actually felt inspired to do more than trudge through the day.

It makes me really grateful to be well. Perhaps getting sick is a small way of the world telling us to appreciate that we can breathe without discomfort, swallow without pain, and have enough energy to motor around all day? I also noticed the obscene over use of the word: "exhausted".
Exhausted is 2 days home with a 2 year old and 100+ fever.

Go be well. Be grateful if you are, and get better if you are not.

Lenny Kravitz in SPIN Magazine

How strange I must have looked at the gym. Bouncing on the elliptical machine with iphones in while some chick sang the theatre version of Disney’s The Little Mermaid's "Part of your world' on the View, while reading (and by reading, I mean holding up to my face, not sitting on the convenient ledge of the machine) SPIN Magazine.

I am happy to report that they picked up on a cool little British act called "Sia". I love her music. One of those rare, and weird-check-the-friends-of-music-you-like-on-MySpace find. My favorites so far are "Breathe me". It starts out sounding like Counting Crows’ "Colorblind" and then beams out like a Tori Amos love song. I like it. I also like "Day too soon"; the lyrical strength of her writing is what makes me listen past the borderline too-poppy sound.

"I've been running all my life/I run away/I ran away from good/ Yeah, I’ve been waiting all my life/ not a day too soon..."

Not that my music tastes mean that much. I noticed a reoccurring theme in my music tastes. All you really need to make me FEEL something is a kick drum repetitive beat, acoustic guitar, harmonica solos, good lyrics, and one of those egg-shaped percussion maraca things. (They look ridiculous when played, but hypnotize me like the snake in Jungle book).

Some things I learned reading SPIN:
1.) Lenny has been celibate for 3 years. It makes sense given his history, but Holy Jesus that is impressive, especially given what constant sexual invitations he receives (based on the article alone).

2.) Danish people are getting uber cool in LA and NYC. (Huh?) Good. Maybe people will realize it’s not the place of wooden shoes. More like liberal upbringing, non-judgment, purple hair and smelly cheese, and hey...The little Mermaid...now look at that tie-back.

3.) I should care more about Pete Doherty, but I just don't.

"Lenny Kravitz is a virgin (Again)" by Jonathan Ames. It really is a great article. The writing, the journalist's self-deprecation, to hear what it's like in the VIP of Gold bar...it feels so much like Almost Famous:

Check it: http://www.spin.com/features/magazine/2008/01/0802_lenny_kravitz/

"Yeah. Lenny Kravitz is a cross between Crooklyn and Annie Hall." -Lenny Kravitz

Trainstorming

Thursday- January 31st dumped all over us, here in Chicago. Kind of a message from January to say..."Yeah, so...February isn’t so great, look what I can do. Eat this!" I used to always think that if the words "White rabbits" said three times, were the first you said on the first day of a month you had good luck. I dont know if it was Chinese, or teenage, or Wiccan, but I do it. I did it. And we were white...everything was white. Good luck coming....to all. Yippee.

On my way to the Goodman Theatre two nights ago, I typed this on my blackberry. (in notepad)...nifty and surely carpurtunal-inducing.

~~~

Riding the train at night is different than day time. Especially in a snow storm. You can't look out the windows, if you dare...you see the greasy smudge marks of hands and elbows, maybe even foreheads? That quickly reminds you that your bag probably shouldnt be sitting on the floor. People are so interesting, suprisigingly smelly, and generally chipper tonight. One guy reads about "secrets of sexy" in the Chicago Tribune. Ryan Seacrest smiling in the clip. Womeon cackle with each other and I wonder: "Do they laugh like that when they get home? I hope so." I usually like to gaze out into the barely-changing landscape of town changess but tonight I can't, so I look down, breathe out of my mouth and listen.

Young people speak so loudly. I can't remember being that inconsiderate and unaware of my surroundings and audibility. (I’m sure I was). They swear a lot too, but less for strategic emphasis and more like trying out a newly learned skill, like snapping or whistling as a kid....Less charming though. I am not making this up. The acne-covered awkward boy surrounded by high school girls drinking alcohol in mountain dew bottles says: "People always think I’m drunk, even when I’m not, they say: 'Dude? Why do you walk around in your boxers with a boner?!' “The girls cackle and repeat the words they like. A Japanese engineer across from me shook his head in disbelief. I also wondered: "Is that his disdain or wistfulness?"

Business dads sneak in naps before getting home, women talk about impending birthday parties and TV. It’s all very cliché actually. I end up with the guy with stale-Smokey hands and a hoody sitting next to me. I would be grossed out if he didn’t seem so uncomfortable and frustrated to be in his skin, it was both sad and alarming. He seemed to want to both disappear for being so dirty and inconsequential and stand up and demand everyone to understand him. But he didn’t do either. He sat next to me tapping his foot jonsin' for a cigarette, or worse...

I stay in my corner, typing the keys on my blackberry. Dutifully filling my role as a cliché like the rest. Ethnically-ambiguous girl in expensive trench coat and high boots typing on blackberry. (By the bathroom). I love to hate public transit.

I love to observe the very strangeness that makes us all the same...on some level.