Saturday, May 31, 2008

GEORGE CLOONEY is SINGLE!

Breaking News:

Watch out ladies! George Clooney and his long time Vegas-cocktail waitress girlfriend, Sarah Larson have broken up!!

The beautifully aloof and perpetual bachelor is free (and probably a little vunerable and sullen) to coast the single life again. Word has it "they didn't have a whole lot in common." You think? Sex and Pretty girls are swell, but there has got to be more to the puddin'. Maybe there is, I won't knock her. I give her the benefit of the doubt. Why not.

No need to analyze it, the man and his salt-n-pepper hair, scruffy voice and seductive laugh are out there for the taking.

In other news my long-time crush Bill Murray has filed for divorce. His wife is sighting he allegedly beat her, and that she suffered from abandonment. Sigh. Bill Murray is free, but no longer for me. Abandonment is a force I have grown so comfortable with over the years, that I can back stroke with ease through it. A man and his heavy, hurtful hand...no thanks. Ever.

Now, Georgie..Wits, grits 40-something and a good sense of humor? God Save my family if he is in NYC this weekend! (kidding...I think...He IS on the top 3) A deal is a deal.

The Shower-Pooper-Smoosher in a wine bar.

Yesterday was a long day. I woke up at 6:00am -its hard to break the habit. After getting back at 4:00am from an impromptu night at Marquee. I was missing my usual morning glow. I had flown in Thursday, met my sister and some clients for drinks with carry-on bag in tow and made it back to her place by midnight. In typical NYC fashion, my blackberry starting buzzing on cue, right after I had washed my face and prepared for bed (which was in my typical Chicago-life fashion). So I rallied, how could I not?

It is always a struggle for me to balance all the people I want(and need) to see when I am here. This city is home to so many of my boarding school, college, and "past-life" friends. I don't sleep well as it is, but when I am immersed in the sound scape and vitality of New York, I am truly happy. Old connections, new experiences.

We had the SATC event, and a hectic day followed. Later on that night, I reveled in an eye-lock from Chris Noth (Mr. Big) as he rode passenger side in a black RX 400. It might not be much, but I will take it! We cozied up in a very indiscreet outside table at Bruce Willis' new wine bar: Bowery Wine Company . The wine list was good, the weather was lightly blowing warm wind, and the music was amazing. Van Morrison, Bob Seger, Pearl Jam...I was pleased. Even feeling the sexiness of NYC taking over a little. Until my sister and I start talking about "Deal breakers".

She told me about an article she read from 2005 where a reader from
TIME OUT NY had written in about her perfect boyfriend, and how everyone loved him, but he had a secret...he liked to poop in the shower, mush it with his feet, feel it between his toes, and push it to the drain. We erupted into a fit of laughter...I'm sure the ample amount of Sancerre helped.

Now THAT is off the spectrum of "weird" but it got me thinking...I actually pondered it. Gross? Absolutely,but everyone is strange. I immediately start making conditions. I asked her: "If you could GUARANTEE that you would remain in love with him, the heart-lifting type of love forever and be happy for eternity- You wouldn't just build him his own bathroom/shower? Eternity with the love of your life?!" She wouldn't. Maybe I wouldn't either. It's straight nasty, but it gave me two things:
1. A great idea for a later-day post and 2. A great, long lasting laugh.

Here's to random quite wine bars where even the most unexpected of debates and deliberations ensue. May the love of your life NOT be a shower-pooper-smoosher.

Sex AND The City: More than you bargained for...

I assure you now, I am NOT providing any spoilers or details about this movie. (Note: I will load a detailed list of quotes in a few weeks.) Instead, I am merely saying:

"Heart, prepare to have a schizophrenic fit."

In a theatre in Times Square with tons of women from a few different magazines, the buzz of the room was palpable. The moment the theme song began ( also many girl's ring tones) we were committed. To the women of SATC, to the hope that Big would deliver his love, and that we would walk away feeling like we just spent a girls-weekend with the women we have come to love, see ourselves in, and laugh with.


Like I said, I won't give any details....yet. This movie has a strange and beautifully haunting tone of reality. There is some underlying truths of womanhood that reaches into your chest, and holds onto your heart for the entire 2.5hrs.

I laughed hysterically. I "pfft'd" and I cried... I cried a lot, in the most unexpected moments. After exiting the movie we were all ecstatic and moved. Quickly I confessed how many times I found myself trying to wipe tears without anyone seeing. I quipped that I "must be hormonal" but then, one by one, every woman explained her own unique self-identification and emotional reaction. It was evident it had affected all of us, profoundly.


Sex AND the city-the movie was well beyond the realms of a "chick-flick". It was an intricate, interwoven journey through the inherently complex emotions of loving, living and being a woman. No matter who you are, or what your history in love, marriage and life...it hits to the bone.

Don't be frightened, it's not that horrible sad things happen, but life happens, and we witness a an unspoken and deliberate support system of the four women we have come to admire. It's hard not to walk away wondering if you can't do MORE for your friends. (Or run out looking for ones like this)It is a testament to richness and overflow of fulfillment other women can provide in a society where we are all trying to hard to prove we can do ANYTHING. Next time a friend needs you: Listen closer, pay more attention, speak more candidly, love her, make her laugh, go the extra mile, and expect it back.




Prepare to laugh, be inspired and stunned by the 50-odd wardrobe changes...but be prepared to FEEL.

Thursday, May 29, 2008

I made this.....Just saying.

There is a lot going on this week. McClellan and Bush are full trough into a pissing contest. NY is considering gay marriage as early as next month. Crude prices are falling. The market had a good run for a day(or two). United and US airways will dance a little today. The new iPHONE is coming. SATC is OUT tomorrow. Ashley Simpson is pregnant. Sydney Pollack died.


And I care, about all of it really. More than any of you actually know. I am a vat of useless news from Brazilian IPO's to who was running around Chateau Martmont without undies..its perplexing really. Yet, here in my own little world, I am amused and bewildered by "my mini." I have done many cool things in my life. None even come close in comparison. This little monster says the funniest things. This week, my favorites are:



"Musegick" instead of Music. - At any given time in my house someone will break into a reiterated version of the Rihanna song. We sing: "Please don't stop the MUSE-GICK, Please don't stop the MUSE-GICK....MUSE-GICK....MUSE-GICK"


"Bisney" instead of Disney.

"Mama? You kiss too big. Yuck."

All in the same breath (this is a great example of apple falling/tree analogy):
"I DO IT! Help me mama. Don't touch me! Plllllease? You do it k? NO. I'm a big girl! It's too hard, I can't dooooo it. Watch me. I did it! Now what?"


"Sweeeeet... that's awe-some!" I got this one from merely skipping back from the park with her on my back.


I know I'm arguably a little sideways, and maybe even over-sexed at times. One thing that is never up for question, is my love for this little person who changes the way I see our twisted, scary world. I may have made mistakes, maybe I over-analyze, over-share, over compensate, but I am overwhelmed with love and pride in her.


Say what you will, but I have one well-adjusted, funny and happy child. I don't know what that says (I really, actually, do) but it says something.

Some things are better left in your head: When saying "I like you" goes wrong.

A few days ago a good male friend of mine and I had a conversation about our past lives as single people. I told him how I once dated a man who always "took it too far" in email. The example I used was how I once got an email that said: "Your arse is so perfect I want to wear it on my head all day like a hat." Really? THAT is sexy? Nope. It's not. It's scary.


I was at a photo shoot involving a bathtub in which I had to soak for 3 hours while looking relaxed, but happy. Calm, but giggly and ecstatic at the aroma of a big-brand candle. Judge away, but it is far more difficult to laugh hysterically at bubbles and rose petals than one might think. Try it, right now....Go. "Ha ha hahaha...look at those silly bubbles, being bubbles, and popping and sitting there on water...HA hahahaha"

I climbed out of the overly intimate ambient-room ( full of 13 people-3 lighting guys, 2 makeup artists, a set-stylist, the photographer, her two assistants, and 4 PA's) looking like a pruned raisin. I reached for my blackberry and found this:

"I want to staple my ears to the insides of your thighs."

" I want to eat you like a cheese stuffed-crust pizza from Pizza Hut - from the outside - in. "

"I want to turn you on like a TV remote, and then dig around in your cushions and find the other remote and turn you up and down."

"I just want to save all your kisses in a jar, and then trade them in at the Coin Star machine, so I can ultimately get some redemption from them. I want to sell you in an auction on eBay, so everyone can see how much you're worth to me."

" I want to make you feel like I was dropping you off at the Goodwill. A little used, sticky spotted, but totally worth the contribution when I think about you a year from now."

He signed it with my exes name. It was brilliant.

I laughed so violently and without hesitation that the photographer said flatly: "Um...that is what we needed 2 hours ago."

Sweet sweetness and bubbly freaky emails that make you laugh two hours too late. Oh well.

Tuesday, May 27, 2008

Good gifts go a long way: I want my Rani drink back!

I don't even pretend to be easy. (Not in any way). I don't take compliments well. I am the pickiest eater I know, next-only to my child. I am usually disappointed with most people, in most facets of this hairy scary life. (not shocked...or surprised, but disappointed.)

This weekend came in a fury, with it a last-minute "drop-by" from a dotted-line friend on her way home for a wedding. She lives in India now with her husband, but is from the Midwest. In passing, months ago, I had mentioned to her that I miss the incredibly unhealthy selection of soda drinks in third-world countries. ( I don't drink soda now, or coffee for that matter) I had loosely referenced a childhood drink called: "RANI" that I loved.

It is basically a mandarin flavored sugar water base with tons of real (or synthetically) sweetened pieces of pulp. It is the sweet nectar juice of a long time ago... YUMMY! Its THAT drink. The childhood thing that makes you shrill with excitement and triple-clap.

"J" showed up at our house, tired and reveling in the springtime freshness of the air, compared to the billowing smoke and soot of New Delhi,India. She brought a cotton pant-suit from the markets for my daughter, and then she handed me a plastic wrapped bag...I felt the sensation of pure glee and shocking gratefulness pulsate my spine. I knew what it was by the shape of the cans. The only thing that has changed is that the lids are actually metal, not the pin-push adhesive sticker types from the seventies.

We sat and chatted about life, and politics and laughed at bathrooms in third-world countries, women's lack of social adherence to potty-etiquette, the smells, the awkward comfort of having drivers, cleaners, forehead-wipers..you know..Its sad. It's disparity, but in that moment, it was funny.

So, in karmic beauty and happy returns, I send my Bollywood glee-dance out to all of you. For the hard day back at work, for the long weekend coming to a close, to the lonely and the sated, to the married and the sedated (what? Why do I always random-rhyme?!)

Let Rani be the pulpy reason you give thanks and send cosmic waves of little gifts to the people you like, or even merely remember. Thoughtfulness is a dying trait....J, I am so grateful, I cannot even open them. THANK YOU.

Keep it alive!!!

(cue the random, choreographed dancers in beautiful saris "changing light bulbs" and shoulder-shrugging to the BA-DONK-A-DINKY-DINKY-DONK- BA-DONK-A-DINKY-DINKY-DONK)

(fade away into a swaying, and BA-DONK-A DOINK sunset)

Monday, May 26, 2008

"It looks like love" - Josh Rouse

So...I am frisky. My color today is bright orange with pockets of white-hot light blue flashing in and out of focus. (huh?) So, my theme song today is Josh Rouse's "It looks like love". It's a sweet little pull back from the Subtitulo album.

Why? You might ask is this my theme song...Well. He has a way of making naughty sound innocent and playful with tongue-clicking cheekiness. The repetitive guitar-smacking hook inspires a pelvic thrust not unlike those featured in the ending of "Little Miss Sunshine" and something in the the underlying tones smells like sweet sweaty sex.

"She doesn't wear a conscience/she doesn't play by rules/I'm flying at her like I've never played, like some clueless fool..."





"I've got some things to show her/I take her to my room/ She likes to eat that choc-o-late/ She likes to sit on me too."....Um...yeah.

So, in perfect duplicity of serious and strangely sexy I bid you a good Memorial day. Heat makes people behave badly, find a way to bounce to your own theme song ( or this one). Summer is here, love and lustful intentions are dancing through the wind and warm breezes...making even the best of the withdrawn and restrained; teases.

"There goes that melancholy feeln' again/It looks like love is gonna find a way/Hey, hey, hey/ When you start believn' in it/It looks like love is gonna show it's face....Hey, hey, hey, heyy..."

Ha cha cha.

I'm uncomfortable...and that's a good thing.

....Originally posted on Chicago Moms Blog

I have seen a lot of ugly things. I lived in Saudi Arabia for several years (as an Arab girl.) I remember my father letting soldiers use his phone and showers during the Gulf crisis. When I lived in Australia the news was hard to watch, in Copenhagen its outright disturbing. Honestly, sometimes news SHOULD be. At the risk of sounding a little like Tony Robbins during the 90's, I had a strange compulsion to clap and say "Yes! That was uncomfortable, I'm gonna change something!" after seeing a recent movie. Laugh if you must, but It's true for me, particularly when I see disturbing movies.

Time is such a hot commodity in the life of a mother, of anyone really. It is hard to "squander" free time on anything other than a guaranteed good time. A lot of parents think, I'm paying a babysitter, I'm buying $11.00 tickets, and $8.00 popcorn, I damn-well better feel good and laugh. I'm guilty of the thought process too, but I think there is something truly gained by being uncomfortable in the movies. I get the point: "My life is hard enough, I'm tired, I'm _____, so I don't want to come out of a movie upset." But being unhappy with something is one of the great catalysts for change. I notice a lot of us ( not everyone) see less and less of it with so many no-brainier options around us.

I recently watched Lions for Lambs, it only got two stars but it made me uncomfortable. It made me think about my own apathetic behaviors sometimes. My husband even said "All we can do is vote correctly" and then that sparked a conversation. Is that REALLY all we can do? I see on average a movie a week, Its a "thing" with me. Stop-Loss really pissed me off. All the angst and lack of support for returning vets in this country. Other movies that don't necessarily send warm-fuzzies down my spine: Babel, Traffic, Kite-Runner,Crash, Boys Don't Cry, Philadelphia, Kids,The Constant Gardner, Thirteen, etc...I could go on. Each one of them brought terrible, painful, emotions up in me. Sometimes the feelings are fleeting, and sometimes they stick, but it always sets my thought process into a ( in my humble opinion) better priority queue.

I feel the same way about TV, News, conversations. It is OK to be uncomfortable.I don't enjoy realizing I am over-privileged and under-appreciating my right to be so. It is good to see or hear or witness something that evokes a will to make something better for others. Even if the only thing you can do, is be more aware, or more open or listen. I find it fascinating how many people avoid facts, truths, even embellished stories of facts that tell us more about people, things and events that teaches us anything about the state of the human condition, the world around us, and the lives others lead. I spent half of my day today researching ways to volunteer and help returning vets in the Chicago-land area. It's not a huge change, but it is a start. I have nothing but the utmost respect for people who live their lives helping people. Kudos to those who deal with discomfort every day!

It's also overwhelming. Uncovering problems can lead to some pretty deep rabbit holes. That scares me, I'll admit it. One sick and homeless child is just representative of millions that I can't help, but the point for me is that helping who I can is still better than not helping at all.I will never give up my feel-good movies, or TV shows. I'm just learning that watching news and movies that make me feel less entertained and more enlightened might help the world, our children and our perspective shift.


Take a minute, think about the freedoms and luxury we have to CHOOSE not to see or be involved with things that make us uncomfortable....not everyone has that choice.

Friday, May 23, 2008

20 Things to be happy about today.

Yep. That's right. I am sending double the dipsy tipsy happy stuff out there today. For the love of french toast and first kisses, I send you on your way this Friday, if nothing else...a little more smiley from the inside. Take it, run with it, spread it out.

1. Pool passes
2. Salt water and chlorophyll in the air.
3. Waking up to the sunlight spilling in the window of your bedroom.
4. Surprising a friend you take for granted with a compliment.

5. The smell of freshly-laundered linen.

6. Having an extra day off to waste away relaxing in the impending summer vibe.

7. The sound of feet running on a wooden dock.....and the splash of bodies hitting water.

8. Finding old pictures while cleaning out a closet.

9. Seeing a familiar face at the end of day (dog, lover, friend...Anderson Cooper)

10. Finding your favorite pair of flip-flops that you thought you lost last summer.

11. Going to Rickys on 14th for no reason, and coming out with everything from your favorite candle to some commando stickies (say what? Ricky-sticky)

12. "Feist" at Rivinia

13. Street Festivals in Chicago and Cubs games.

14. Feeling flirty for no other reason than the warm breeze blew in your hair. Acting on it.

15. S'mores.

16. Bicycle rides and small ice-cream shacks

17. The buzz of your handheld when you are waiting for a call/email/text.

18. The smooshy, gooshy feeling of sand under your toes.

19. Letting go of the past, to move into the now.

20. Good lists that make you feel like summer is leaning in for a big long kiss.


Be grateful, be grand in your stretch for happy feelings today....fleeting or not, the best time is now, and now is full of possibilities.

So You Think You Can Dance- LA. 5.22.08


Ahhh...The world felt right for about two hours last night. Just hearing the opening music; my body starts to jitter like ephedrine-infused coffee beans. A couple things I have to state:

I love Mia. She is so kind and benevolent, and funny at the same time. She actually tries NOT to exploit people, but she also can't help laughing either. Can I just say, I want to wear a black off-the-shoulder Flashdance mini dress with leg warmers over my heels! How can I rationalize pulling that off somewhere?


Sidenote 1: Can you picture Nigel dancing? Choreographing? I tried. I can't. And...I'm not attracted to him this season. Oh well. ( good thing I guess, that was a bit scary)

"Sex" came back with his mother. His pelvic thrusts literally dry up any estrogen flowing through my body. Watching him is unnatural for me. I feel my female organs cringe and gag. His words: "I have trained with many, many, many, many master-choreographers." -Right.

"Twitch" was amazing. I want to pinch his cheeks and call him George.

(side note 2: ) When I get uncomfortable with the awkward moments of the show, like when the 46-yr old -Russian divorcee was crawling on the stage and such, I make my hands into binoculars to shield my eyes a little. It's bizarre and involuntary.

'Philip Cheebeb" aka the guy who looks like a cartoon moving in a flip-book drawing. I don't think he has any bones. It is unreal. My question is: How do you discover that talent? Was he limboing and doing the lambada at the same time...interesting.

"Erica Gee" was so good. She moves like Allison, but has her own thing going. Smile-inducing and gazelle-like. Love her.

"Victor Kim" came on stage and I couldn't stop yelling "WHAT?" in my living room. Not joking. I was yelling. Call me uncouth or immature, but my brain had no words except: "WHAT?". Forearm jumps? Full body elbow-balance, Inverted lateral back bend hand-stand push up? WHAT!?

All I can say is my cheeks are still sore from smiling. And...my creeping crush on Cat Deely is not going away. I want to sit on the stairs next to her and smell her hair. (tee-hee)

Thursday, May 22, 2008

Lulu's Thursday round-up: Cook,Cat,Crude and Bourgeois guilt...Nice.

There is so much going on today. I didn't sleep well (no surprise). I think it was a full moon, or it's hard to have this many words and conversations and thoughts elbowing and heel-stepping to the front of my mind, pulling on the insides of my brain. Really. So...needless to say: I am zingy today.

David Cook won American Idol. Sure. Swell. Super. More excitingly, Cat Deely will rebirth by 2nd girl-crush (Ellen was my first- but now she is getting married) tonight on Fox's "So you think you can Dance".

Oil prices are over $135. Al-Naimyi said it, pundits and experts said it months ago....one word: Speculation. S'ok. (well, not really, but..) My bet is the same crazy bastards driving up crude costs are sniffing out a way to make money on the next-big thing that might help the economy and footprint on earth...while lining their pockets so they can fly atomic jets to St. Tropez for the weekend. If no one else, blame your parents..why not?

Martin Kelly, 42. died on his doorstep yesterday leaving his pregnant wife, Natascha McElhon, known to me as "Hank Moody's exe on Californication" devastated. My condolences...42? That is insane. She gets prime meditation time from me today. (image, copyright, CP)

China's earthquake toll is above 50,000. Anderson Cooper and Erica Hill are no longer flirting. American Airlines is charging for checking bags, soon to charge for seat-belts, toilet paper and window-shade privileges AFTER you pay a nominal fee for thinking about flying with them.

I'm truly convinced the world is going to hell in a "Bag,borrow or steal" hand bag. Surely, in perfect ironical form, I will be sitting on my couch, knees tucked to the side, sipping wine, with an afghan on while I watch a TV dance show the very instant the world obliterates...Great. Well done Lulu.....the only thing worse, would be jammin' in your car to N-sync or polishing your silver.

What will you be doing? I have got to figure out how to heal degenerative disease with something random like fabreeze and motor oil. Wait, not oil...tooth paste and sticky tack! Or deep dive into the decomposing waters of disaster zones, or come up with the latest green initiative that will help turn this boat around.


Sigh. Can you tell I am as predictable as a Woody Allen sentence right now? Today is going to be wacky. Hang on to your britches, I am shooting 10 different colors, in 20 different directions...

TAKE COVER!

Wednesday, May 21, 2008

HAPPY HUMP DAY! Moms talk about sex!!!

It is hump day.... A lovely one at that. Spring is vibrating through the ground, pushing up stamen and spreading seed. The air is full of love and new beginnings and bees fluttering around....It's hard not to get a little warmth and feel a little sexier...right or wrong? You decide.

I told you that my skin in buzzing just thinking about the Shape Magazine Premiere of "SEX AND the CITY" in NYC that I am going to on May 30th, but for today I will read about SEX AND PARENTHOOD.

It is Topic day on the mom-blogosphere that has been getting so much press lately. Women (and men) are "pulling the blindfold" off of sex and parenthood. Don't be quick to judge, these women are honest, powerful, funny and not-to-be-underestimated. I love them. They support me, laugh with me... sometimes call me "hateful", but it is incredible to have so many layers of womanhood, motherhood, fatherhood, and life spinning around, dealing with real life and evolving before our eyes.

CHECK IT OUT. GET SEXY:

Bloggers from Chicago Moms, NYC Moms , Silicon Valley Moms, DC Metro Moms, NJ Moms blog, 50-something moms and Deep South moms !

I blog about sex on a weekly basis. I will take the sexy hump day off. I will grab some KY, cellophane, green-pickle pear penis poppers, and a megaphone to cheer them on from the sidelines!

Hip Hip for horny (or not horny) moms/and dads talking about SEX!

Monday, May 19, 2008

5.19.08-ABC's DeAnna (The Bachelorette) gets Punk'D - What the....

Oooooooooo-kay. I need to preface this by saying that I apologize to all the men on the show, I am sure you are sweet, and articulate and smart, and giving and full of ...words words words.. but it must be said:

WHAT THE FECK was the casting manager smoking? If I were DeAnna, I would be livid. I am just curious about a few things:


1. Is this all just a matter of slim-pickings? Have men finally realized that it is NOT a "win" situation to leave work for 3 weeks, go on TV, be edited and scrutinized by the masses ( like me.)
2. Could we have a worse representation of Chicago? (no.)

3. Ashton Kutcher! Is he, or is he NOT going to fly down on a cable-chord to tell her that she is being punk'D?

The men either have offensive south-side accents, mullets, strange suits that Jesse bought at Spencers, a cartoon-jaw, awkward bum-out hugs, a relentless need to show their abs, cock-eyes, ill-fitted suits, or someone who says: "Greg will run through the fire....Greg will grab that rose" -in third person...no less.

I am literally uncomfortable. Not because the men "aren't good enough" but because they are actually trying THIS HARD to be obnoxious, I feel the need, almost the obligation, to question the validity of it. See exhibit A below:

If this is an accurate depiction of what is out there, I have nothing but absolute respect, love and admiration for the single women of America. Keep on....truckin' on. I'm sorry?

Note 1: I will not be blogging about this show. Feel free to collectively sigh with relief. I cannot stomach it. I am no good at handling contrived moments in general, but what I am just plain incapable of doing; is rewarding this kind of show with viewership.

HESUS.

Note 2: I only watched because my sister called me in a fit of gasp-snorting-laughter and my interest was piqued.

Things we should re-engineer into reusable energy resources:


1. TMZ footage.

2. Corn dogs or SPAM

3. Celebutante panties

4. Crocs. ( Imagine my hands signing for "All-donnne")

5. Butt-beads. People don't really use them right? It's funny to say, but they don't have a utility. Who is going to complain or draft that petition? "Say no to earth, bring back butt-beads!"

6. Annoying phrases like: "If I were a betting man." or "Cool beans!" or "Not to be rude, but..." or "This isn't my nature, but"

7. Sucker sticks. ( I am not referring to my exe, I mean lollipops)

8. Lame Facebook applications

9. R. Kelly's legal filing papers for trial postponements (and paperclips)

10. Lindsey Lohan's emotional "bottom".

11. Scones (I never see anyone eat them. They weigh more than a toddler)

12. All money spent to create and produce: "Rock of Love" and "Flavor of Love"


Let's get creative people.There is still time...Happy Monday.

Sunday, May 18, 2008

"This ain't sex!" Usher and Steve Carell on SNL.

So, I did not watch SNL until today, but it delivered. The Season Final packed a double punch May 17th, with Steve Carell and Usher. Not only does Usher move like a mechanical Michael Jackson, but he can pull off white leather. Honestly, I was entertained, but once the bass started and the subtle moan from the jazzy electric guitar riff kicked in....I was turned on. Oh yes, it is that easy. That man can dance.

Steve Carell started out with the graduation ceremony for terrible named students. A few of my favorites:
"Rob Guzzina"
"Wilma Fingerdoo"
"Eaton Thomas Bush"
"Haywood Paul Jablowme"
"Uwana Nailher"
(the best was the same guy and girl receiving the diplomas, trying to seem grateful and surprised each time.)

Who ever thought up the split screen Obama/Clinton ad are hereby the most clever and satirical writers on earth, so far, that I have seen, today.



I also loved the "A-holes singing karaoke". Do people like that really exist? I don't believe it. I would probably crain-kick and chicken dance on actual humans that behave like that. I'm on watch now. Kristen Wigg rocks. Bring back the "one-upper".

John McCain also showed up for two skits. He addressed the audience and was also quite funny mocking his own age, gaydar and then on the NEWS panel said: "That's right, fight amongst yourselves."

Much needed giggles.

Stay funny SNL. See you next season, with love,

Lucy Bunghole, Pan T. Tsunami, and Bubba Lee Cooter.

Dead-Dad Day: A parent misses being a child.

I know, I know it sounds horrible. But it is how I feel. I am good with words, eloquent even (when I am trying). That's the thing. I can't festoon this kind of honest loss with pretty adjectives or bone-chilling analogies. It's just...hard.

Loss has a manipulative way of creeping in and out. It swindles and sways its way through the days and years. I hear him in music, in movies. I laugh out loud or cry at things I wish he were here to see. It is selfish. The selfishness that every child deserves. The unconditional love and guidance of a parent. He provided both, and he provided well.

Born in Zanzibar, he had an affair with the sea. The oldest of 11 children, he was a leader. He lost his own mother at 16 years old in a tragic car accident (his first attempt at driving), so he was a survivor. Banished from his own home by his father in wake of their great loss, he was a fighter. He returned home months later to find his father had "left" so he learned quickly how to navigate the world of love,raising siblings, loss, protection and fear. I write this perhaps because I am proud, or moved, or just trying to remind myself of him; his story...beyond just being my dad.

Forgetting them hurts most. The guilt of not being able to pull his voice up in the audio archives of my mind, the way he said my name or his laugh. No one warned me of this, but it takes effort. It takes true effort to keep the memory of the lost alive.

It was hard to have my cousin walk me down the aisle instead of him. It was difficult to see fathers approaching hospital rooms at the Maternity ward to see their little girls. Those moments I prepared for. What I did not know would quietly steep in sadness, were the beautiful moments I am championing as a mother. The huge life-altering decisions that are made without even the slightest tap or nudge from a parent. He was my sounding board. We challenged each other. He hardened me up for the world and I came into my own in my twenties just in time to soften his perspective and mistrust.

The man was tough. He was self-made, and knew it. I look back and realize my mortgage payments are less than what he paid for a suit. This same man who was rigid about table manners and proper use of forks and minimal noise-making while chewing (no joke...it was ridiculous) was also a man that laughed hysterically at "Mr. Bean" and knee-slapped at fart jokes. He would be on the floor if he would have heard my 3-year old say to my sister; unprovoked: "I saw Luke's poop! It looked like a hot dog!" Those are the moments where laughter turns sad for a minute.

I remember how strange it must have been for him. A Saudi man to have two (gasp!) daughters. I recall when I played Ani Difranco to him in the car and he froze at her lyrics. I remember his request that I write a full (20-page) business proposal (when I was 19) to present why my moving to Sydney alone would be beneficial and cost-efficient to him. I remember countless days spent on the Arabian sea while he wind surfed and the smile on his face coming out the water. I remember reels and reels of beautiful soliloquies of father-daughter growing that seemed so ordinary at the time. So it goes.

There is a certain pride we seek from our parents, either outright or unspoken. I worked for it, I believe in the past, I lost it and earned it back. He was always telling me to write a book, or two. I laugh inside knowing he wouldn't be shocked by one thing I write. He might be the only man to ever walk this earth, that took my shock-value in absolute stride, I actually wonder if he didn't predict it. The way I can predict what my child is thinking before she thinks it.

My mini pity-party comes out today. The day where I am faced with knowing he cannot be that for me. I am faced with that half-hearted notion that he is "watching" or "witnessing" all of this. Sometimes it works, mostly it doesn't.

Instead, I send my love to him. I find peace in reckoning that HE was a child. That HE lost a mother and if anything makes sense in this twisted and beautiful journey of life; that he might be with her. Safe and loved. Free from preying family members, free from stress and burdens he didn't bring upon himself.

My daughter won't ever know him, and she will maybe recognize a handful of pictures of him. I won't ever get a glance from him that says: "Well done, honey." again. He cannot console or advise me on any major decisions in my life, and worst, I can't even thank him for all he did, gave up, and endured. I wasn't easy.

Most days I am truly blessed and grateful for all I have. Most days I challenge myself and the world around me to be better, to love hard, and give back. Today, I wish for those things, and I will be better tomorrow. But It is my "Dead-Dad day" and I will reflect to resolve just a little more this year.

I am so many things: A mother, a sister, a wife, a writer, a goof, a lover, a fighter....but today, I am a parent missing being his daughter; hoping that he is windsurfing somewhere, someplace full of love and freedom and the peace of a child....

Saturday, May 17, 2008

4 days until "So you think you can dance"!!!

So,here we are. I could get really sad if I start thinking about tomorrow. It is the anniversary of my father's fatal heart-attack. Some years, its just a day, others it crushes me. For now, I will NOT focus on how my dad has never met my child,or the heart-wrenching death toll in China...Instead, I will focus on FOUR DAYS UNTIL "So you think you can dance". Pathetic? Maybe.

I am in love with three major things:
1. Cat Deely. Seriously. I want to make out with her (no joke, call me?) She has a child-like imperfect perfection of beauty about her. The squinty eye, and crooked smile... I think her and Niles have an unspoken sexual chemistry stranger than that of Erica Hill and Anderson Cooper. I get all shimmery thinking about it. Bring it.

2. The art of dance, and emotion through movement.

3. Mia Micheals. I cry at almost every single dance she choreographs. She feels on a different level of humanity and inspiration that most people, yet she finds a way to articulate it through movement to the masses. I love her.

So there you have it. I am a geek waiting for an over-commercialized show to move me. Worse things could be doing it, so I will take it. (jump to "1.41" to see the dance)



Yep. I am THAT girl, the one that grabs whomever is in my vicinity and tries to jump off a bench to envelope the poor bastard like those flying frogs. I don't even pretend to be cool.

My problem...I think I can dance.

Friday, May 16, 2008

Nifty beauty business ideas for the self-loathing.

I read People's "100 most beautiful people" issue last weekend. They are....beautiful. But what is the obsession? This is getting scary. How does Jennifer Anniston look younger at 39 than she did at 25? Don't get me wrong, I love her. I just want the secret. Why is every man a shade of orange and without a moving forehead?

I guess I can't stop it, and I'm lying if I say I don't feel pressure and absolute fear of aging, but ONLY because very few spotlighted women are being examples of accepting who you are, wrinkles, imperfections and all. Bottom line, as there is no one in particular (or too many) to blame, I can only affect how I take it all, and hopefully how my daughter interprets it.

I'd really rather invest a boatload of money into building self-esteems for young girls and teaching confidence and self-assurance to realize that the glossy magazines are NOT accurate portrayal of expectations of aging. But since it feels futile, and books are being published to help children deal with why/how "My Mommy is Beautiful" , I will capitalize on it too.(I jest) ((It's sad that I have to clarify,but there it is.)) Some business ideas I am kicking around:

"Reborn" Placenta face bags. Possible tag line: "Deep dive into mother's freshest fluids to get that dewy-baby face you've always wanted."
- Retails for $20,000. (for $500.00 extra we will give you our biodegradable vile of colostrum in liquid form to add to your Pellegrino.)
Cost to me: Free from sidebar medical waste pickup service to midwives.
~~~~~~~

Starve-to-feed diet. TM. With all the women not eating, yet dining out, there is a surplus of food being left table side. In the innovative "Starve-to-feed" diet you can actually give your food to the millions of hungry, starving Americans.

You pay, you lose, and the hungry are sustained by your Venison seared with beef stake tomatoes and duck vagina glaze.

-Membership cost monthly is $200.00. Check participating restaurants at our website:spendyourmoneyusefullyoliveoil.com
~~~~~~~~~~

Organectomy. It is important that your body works. It is more important that your body LOOKS like it really works. We are here to help. Our fine surgeons will minimize general operation of all systems inside your body to allow for that youthful, un-aging look.
-The standard Organectomy prices vary. The procedure begins with full-body botulism shots to freeze all neurons and moving cells, your tummy is then stapled, a feeding tube is inserted, all thyroid and glandular functions are diminished to tell those pesky aging molecules to disappear.

The end result is ...You as a perfectly crafted and beautiful, human vegetable.

Get out there America and keep the biggest premium of value on looking beautiful!

Thursday, May 15, 2008

"Hey Ya" cover by Matt Weddle

HEY YA? I love it. Matt Weddle from Obadiah Parker. This song hit the radio last year, about this time. I remember hearing it on 99.9 in Chicago. I was a fan of the original, who couldn't laugh and gesture at "shake it like a Polaroid picture"?

But then, to hear it played out in acoustic....that makes it. The entire song works like this. I picture college kids around campfires. Hair blowing in the face of the pretty girl while her eyes glisten in the crackling ember. But whatever works for you. Maybe you hate it. That's fine too. Blog about it.



I know, I'm a mush tonight. Lots of change. I thought to myself:

"Self? What would it take to be in a good mood? Crazy monkey sex? A chocolate chip break-n-bake drizzle cookie? No! You need to hear a commercialized hip-hop pop song cover by a shaggy hairy dude."

So, I came home, found the song and it delivered like a Doula on Adarol. Let's sing it together.

I will shake it... Oh, I will shake it.

Tuesday, May 13, 2008

American Idol Top 3 Sing 3 on 5.13.08


Here's the deal. I don't really love anyone left. However, I cannot just stop cold-turkey on this show. It wouldn't be fair.Instead, I'm really hoping AC and Erica Hill give me some sizzle to electrify my evening. I need it. Holy hell, 3 songs!? Strap in, this is going to be wordy.

Handle bar mustache's scare me. David Archuleta sang "And so it goes." by Billy Joel requested by Paula Abdul. He can sing. It is absolutely boring for me. I think the I am watching something different than the judges.

Syesha Mercado came back in the Wendy's baked-potato-foil-color redux dress. It if works, work it. She sang: "Some people want it all" by Alicia Keys. Wow. She did it. Chill-worthy. I can't even crack a joke.

David Cook sang "The first time ever I saw your face." by Roberta Flack. His falsetto was so tender. I usually don't like tender, but it felt authentic. Ladies, and Gentlemen, I think we have a winner.


(Side note 1: If the sun rises in your eyes, where does it set?)


----SECOND SONGS:
David Archuleta tried Chris Brown "With You". He looks like he is going to throw up, the poor thing. "Boo?" Words. Words. Words. Nope. It went over like a Mormon teenage bikini car-wash. I feel bad for the little guy. It's small britches on a big show. He gets my pity (not pantie) vote.


Syesha Mercado sang "Fever" by Peggy Lee. Metallic night for Syesha. Working the broadway career. Waaakaaaa-waaaakaaaaa. That sound is so love-boat. Love it...not really. I think my evenings would be way more sensual if I had bass player in the corner of my living room. Just saying....It was fine. She is fine. Next.


David Cook sang "Dare you to move" by Switchfoot. This is was his rock out song, it was a 6 out of 11. Eh. He is still going to win.


(side note 2: I love thunder storms.)

----THIRD SONGS:
As lame as all of this was, It was worth it to see THIS GUY. (in the red) I will name him. "Happy Hank" Ryan also looks really comfortable holding a teen in a tiara.

David Archuleta sang "Longer than" by Dan Folgerberg. I am such a dork, as I have this album. I love him, and Don Mclean, Cat Stevens and Lionel Richie...so what. Now he has my pity and my wistful tween days of random music choice and roller skating.

Syesha Mercado sang "Hit me up" by Gia Ferrel. No. No. No. I tuned her out and just watched the back-up singer with big boobies and a scarf. Simon said: "It's a little bit forgettable."

David Cook sang "I don't want to miss a thing" by Aerosmith. He will win. I really don't care.

eraaaaaaaaack. I'm D.O.N.E.

10 sounds you don't want your "Big O" likened to:


1. A squealing calf.
2. Your mother cheering.
3. Aresenio Hall's "Whoooooop Whoooooop Whooooop".
4. A visceral "Brave heart"/ Childbirth CHO-CHO-CHOOOOOOOOOOOOOO combo.
5. Silence.
6. A Golem whisper saying: "yes, precious, yes."
7. The THX sound byte from the movie theatre.
8. A Thai "Frog-caller".
9. A balloon letting out air.
10. Anything in a coo-ing baby voice.


Get out there and create something original! Love is abound and some of our truest (albeit awkwardly revealing) moments travel in sexual sounds. Really, go ahead? I won't judge. You're in the "safe place".

Hope and love beams for no reason, or too many?

If you open up the Huff-Po today the headline is : "Angry Earth" followed by pictures of the natural demolition that is Earthquakes, Cyclones, and death tolls. The Economy is...well, who the heck knows. Oil, commodities, dead kittens, Indian protesters, war, fear...It could seem bleak.

Angelina Jolie is having twin girls. Watch out Olsen's your time-clock is ticking in 24HRS-type drama. Eva, Eva, Eva....what were you thinking. Really? Someone said it would look sexy if you were topless having your tata's massaged by feet? Eeeeesh. Those silly Italians can convince a girl to do anything....Je connais, Je connais, Laissaiz-la tranquille, mais, merde sacre! (note: I don't speak Italian, but French is close enough) Regarder: Oh Eva...

So..now that I feel a little sad for the earth, thousands of Burmese and Chinese mourning families, the nannies for Jolie-Pitt and Eva's self-esteem...I am sending out a zingy beam of love and hope to all of you readers. I cleanse you or the hatred, and residue of ugliness that is pervading us on a daily basis with the onslaught of raunchy and circumstance.


Instead, I will focus all my harmony and happiness and bright, white-hot-light of inexplicable positivity to you and yours and perhaps, maybe if you are open to it, you will walk a little lighter, smile a little brighter, hold close and then release your own good intentions and we can create some kind of a bouncing sparkly beam of light and love. Or...we just go about our days half-minded and rushing through the motions...you choose. I'm skipping today.


Wiggle wiggle, Russian-squat jump circle, arms-open spin, crazy fouettes, snap-snap, shimmy, shimmy, jumping jack, kiss-blow.


... You have been love beamed!

Sunday, May 11, 2008

"HELLO" Tristan Prettyman! Lyrics and love.

I fell for Tristan Prettyman last year in one of my random Myspace finds...I had "You got Me" on my page for months, but today I downloaded the entire album: "HELLO". She's sultry, naughty nice.


She has her own sound, but it is perfectly formulated to fit in with any fans of Ani Defranco, Fiona Apple, or even a few old fans of Patti Griffin. Lyrically, she hits to bone. I'm also dance-walking to Jason Mraz's "I'm yours". Judge me for jumping mainstream this summer. I guess it's better than listening to the radio drenched dribble of "R&B" songs about strippers and booty. Pop-folk sell out can be my new title. I don't care. I love it....for now.

"Hello", the album title song has the Indy folksy ride of a long drive into infatuation. I have the suspicious feeling she fell in love during this album. Careful...you might too.

"Handshake" first off, makes me bounce and head-bop. That's before the lyrics undulate in the air like a cartoon stream permeating my ears and chest. I can't help it, my hips start to sway. This song is sexier than you think. Listen up:

"And hey boy, how come you feel this way /For a little longer I will try to make you stay/ Don't wanna make this hard /But I'm so wound up I might fall apart /You know girls go wild for your east coast style /Happens more than once in a while /Think I know just where you're coming from /Up against the wall with my clothes all coming undone." ..and I'm spent.

"You got me" is sweet and sends me to a warm wind blowing on a tire-swing with my heart wrapped in new love.

"Madly" is the popular song (at least on itunes). It's not my favorite, but what do I know. There is a fun little clapping sequence. Who knows...why not?

Check it out yourself. Hello....Ms. Prettyman.

Please don't. My inability to receive: A mother's confession and gratitude.

I am the first to admit that accepting ANYTHING is an elusive feat for me. I don't ask for help, I am firm believer of the "I will get to you on my own" instead of the "pick me up at the airport" mode of visits and travel. Worst of all: I LOVE to give gifts, compliments and help, but I cannot receive any of them well.


I don't really wear jewelry. I wear a wedding band,the same stud earrings, and a sport watch. That's it. I think accessories are beautiful, and can make an outfit, I just don't care enough to plan it all out.... on a daily basis. Don't get me wrong, I love beautiful (and even expensive things) but my fashion tastes change by the minute, so who's tellin' what I would like by 3:00. Let alone, tomorrow.

I cringe at the anticipation from the GIVER as I open or accept a gift. I am always worrying that their feelings might get hurt if I don't seem overly pleased. I don't fake anything well. All too many times I have seen a giver wince at the site of my face upon discovering the latest necklace attempt or sweater purchase.

The kicker is that I really DO NOT have any expectations. I have so much, and there are so many who don't. I have a genuine appreciation for a hand-written card, or a "thank you" or the fact that the people in my life haven't run away screaming with the chaos that is Lulu, is enough. More than enough.

I am the farthest thing from ungrateful, it isn't that at all. I am just painfully aware of how impossible I am, therefore it's better to just avoid it. In fact, I feel like it must be some kind of a burden released for all people in my life.

Right now, I can tell you ( and mean it) I don't need a birthday present, I don't want a mother's day gift, I will most likely buy my own Christmas presents, and I appreciate thoughtfulness that is spontaneous and without guilt or some societal need to present something to someone because everyone else is. Humph.

My sister and I were laughing hysterically today considering where the hell it came from. Is it learned? Is it due to an extreme and excessive amount of disappoints that we would rather negate that emotion by hoping no one ever really tries? Or are we deep-down keeping the hope alive because someone, somewhere will nail it on the head?

My closest friends and family have given up completely(with the exception of my mother), and without fail I get the spa-card that says: "Its you, who knows, here goes." or they keep it simple (chocolate,books, cheap cheesy gag gifts..etc). I love the little things. It works. This is me, I am a-typical. I still don't have a wedding album, I didn't have a baby shower,I don't enjoy shopping, and people have made my week with the right words, or something as small as chocolate chip cookie...

I don't have the answers. I admire those women and men who can accept a gift graciously. I truly do. There is something so beautiful in a person who possesses the art of receipt. I am not one of them. I am imperfect...but you already knew that.


Happy Mother's day to my friends, my mother, and to the women in the world that sacrifice, balance, and are profoundly purposeful every day, through example, survival and most importantly; love. It is a sometimes impossible, thankless job that never ends. Thank you....collectively all of you, for being and doing the best you can, today and everyday.


To my mother: I thank you for watching my countless (and horrible) impromptu dance shows, or act-outs. I thank you for always telling me how the world works in the precocious stages. I thank you for the sleepless nights, the lonely years, and most importantly, the gift of life.

Now, go out there and receive with the best of them!!! I will stay here and watch thinking: "phew....Thank God that wasn't me. I hate emeralds."

Saturday, May 10, 2008

Strange. I know you are but what am I ?

I know this blog might lean a little to strange side, it is to be expected. I am the author. Perhaps I exercise this persona of my alter-ego.


Lulu Notewordy broke a monthly record in April with over 2700 visits and triple that in page views. Mostly due to the Today Show, and various press for http://chicagomomsblog.com/ (Katie Couric is guest blogging with us now).

I always find it fascinating to see what keywords bring you in, my curious readers. Here's a tiny sampling from April:


"Man girdle lust" - Really? More searches for Mirdles than I would imagine. Please gentlemen, I reiterate, for the love of testosterone, and fight against diminishing masculenity... Put the girdle down.

"Burhka sex" - No comment.


"Phil Falcone watches" - Is that a sentence? or a query about his wrist wear? He still doesn't know I exist, but there might still be hope with Bill Murray. (My horoscope says so.)

"Erica Hill and cute chipmunk flirt" - wow.

"Lulu Colbert" - Now we're talking....

"Monkey lulu mittens" - huh?

"Preschool Nudists" - Double huh? For the record, I don't believe in preschool (kidding). This one frightens me a little.

"What is Tom Brady's pant size" - Wouldn't we all like to know.

"Am I in the wrong relationship?" - Uhhh... Radar Magazine can help you with that.

Stay strange blog-readers!

Spooky Horoscopes leads to over-stretching.

It's a sunny Saturday morning. I woke up refreshed and ready to take on the weekend. My Google homepage recently started to provide me with a nifty horoscope reading. (I'm not into that, but I will read it...why not?) Humph. This is why:


Virgo horoscope for May 10th, 2008:
"You need to get ready for some serious weirdness that is coming your way today -- and you won't see it coming until it's on top of you, most likely. Your flexibility is the key to success."


Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa? I am a big believer in intentions, I honestly think if you set your mind to a certain channel, or frequency, you can exude a flavor of energy. Sure, the above horoscope is just words, probably some rotational cycle spit-out of a database, but I'm not sure how to take that.

Serious weirdness that I won't see coming until it's on top of me? Is it a man? Is it "good" weird? What kind of flexibility? I am a living gumby, outside of cirque de soleil hanging Russians, I'm as bendy as it gets.

Maybe I get stuck in a circus celebration with men on stilts and unicorns waving in a parade full of ex-boyfriends and childhood bullies that I haven't seen in 20 years. Or stranger, I golf a round with Bill Murray. He's got bad wrists now, I can take him.

In any event, I plan to stay open, flexible, and ready to run from the scene at any given moment.


Look lively Virgos.

Thursday, May 8, 2008

Reasons I am pleased this Thursday.

1. 30 Rock will use the word: "cooter" tonight. Bringing it into the mainstream. What's next? I can't even wait...


2. Tomorrow is Friday.


3. Mother's day will be just another Sunday in my house, and that is fine. I don't do well with gifts. Also, Dane's don't believe in cutting flowers or conventional roles. "They" prefer flower-life rights, and freedom of holiday-neutral exceptions without paper waste. Here comes my gender/role non-specific, flower-free e-card, mom!

4. Kathy Lee Gifford "doesn't like computers" and doesn't plan to blog anytime soon. (phew, that was a concern for spacial capacity and cloud computing)

5. My toes are fire-pink.

6. I sent a letter of recommendation to the LA county dept. of correctional services that Lindsay Lohan,Britney spears, Paris Hilton, the chick from The Hills (who held the binoculars backwards at the Derby) and other such wastes of space be sent to Burma to help in human aid relief.

7. Awkward, silent "door-holding" negotiations with strangers.

8. Jon Stewart interviewing NYC mom-bloggers on Friday night. Sigh.It should've been me. He's even been on the Top 3 list! Disaster averted, I guess.

9. 22 days until SEX and THE CITY!!!


10. Being told: "You can drop off if you'd like" on a conference call. And on that note.... 3 more days until my conscience no longer has to over-rationalize working for Big Oil.



The world is going to pot with cyclones, rice shortages, oil gauging, reality TV, bras causing cancer and other such travesty....I have to find something to to laugh at.

Tuesday, May 6, 2008

American Idol top 4 rocks out! 5.6.08

Here we are. Primary race is on tonight, so I will be brief and thorough, like a good compliment. Ryan is oompa-loompa orange. Flesh is fine, just try it. On that note, do men put self-tanner downtown? Eeek.Top 4 finalists are given the choice of any "Rock and Roll" hall of fame song.



David Cook sang "Hungry like the wolf" by Duran Duran. Born in 82. Wow. Yeah for DD on tour right now. Wow. It sounded like karaoke. Not good. Baby fish-mouth! "Douuu dooouu dooo dooo-dooo dooo-dooo dooo-dooo dooo doooooo..." Nope. It didn't work. Sorry.


Syesha Mercado sang "Proud Mary" by Tina Turner. (yawn). Her words: "I looked in the mirror and I was like.....just do it." Its a Nike commercial. Peacock earrings look painful. Randy said: "You showin' the heat." I agree. The dress looked like a Wendy's potato foil-kinda heat too.


Jason Castro sang "I shot the sheriff." by Bob Marley. It was okay, but it sounded a bit pre-orgasmic throughout. On a circumstantial basis, that is fine, but when singing about shooting someone, it felt whiny, or you know...too intimate for TV millions. I actually like Jason, he just felt so apathetic. Focused apathy. Simon said: "I don't know what you're thinking?"

David Archuleta sang "Stand by me" by Ben King. This kid can sing. The show takes a positive turn here. If I closed my eyes and pictured someone legal to dirty dance with, I would....well done little Davey A. The judges liked it. Even Simon called it "the best performance so far."


-----SECOND SONGS------

David Cook sang "Baba O'Rielly" by THE WHO. Much better. He held his Les Paul, he hit the falsetto, but otherwise it was OK. Not his night. He knows it. Paula Abdul just said: "I want more David Cook! I'm really humbled to sit here and watch your soul." ( she is so awkwardly sincere it kills me)



Syesha Mercado
sang "A change is gonna come" by Sam Cooke. KU-DOS to her stylist tonight. She is like a sparkly-tied orange sherbet. I want one. She sounded deep and visceral in her effort. Where did she come from? She was barely mediocre up until last week? Randy thought it "fell flat for me." Paula and Simon spoke so highly of her performance it made her cry.


Jason Castro sang "Mr. Tambourine man" by Bob Dylan. He forgot the words, and dear Jason is going home. Sooooo bad. Sheesh. Well, that makes an easy choice. And....he's done. Simon said: 'Pack your bags."



David Arculeta
sang "Love me tender" by Elvis Presley. He thought it sounded "cool". It was safe, pretty, could have been a tinsy better sans voice-crack loss. Paula "felt his heart." He looks tender.


I miss Cat Deely. Happy Tuesday. Be good, stay safe and don't self-tan your junk. I'm off like a promdress to watch Obama win NC...

Lulu's Tuesday roundup: Stephen Colbert and Feist.

It was a love fest for me last monday. Stephen Colbert announced Feist (playing "I feel it all" acoustically) in her blue unitard from the "1,2,3,4" video. I love him. I do. Dead-pan delivery and situational irony never felt so sweet.

One of my favorite songs from the Album: The Reminder.



Today is turning out to be an interesting Tuesday. We'll see who played better on the gas prices and economic turmoil in the primary for Indiana and North Carolina . Yahoo might make a move with Yang. American Idol is sure to mildy disappoint (here's hoping I'm wrong) and somewhere, someone in the news media is going to tastefully cover the cyclone in Myanmar ( Burma) that has taken over 22 thousand lives....I can hear the R.E.M song playing now.

On a happier shade of melancholy...

"The wings are wide, the wings are wide. Wild card inside. Wild card inside...." - Feist.

Monday, May 5, 2008

Signs you made a one-night-stand mistake.

Alright. I have been all sappy and sweet for three days straight. Let's get back to it.

Signs you may have chosen the WRONG person to go home with last night:

1. He asks: "Did you like the vertical faux-hawk?...It used to be the Forrest-gump." ( referring to his man-scaping.)

2. He says: "I'm glad you didn't look at the camera much. You Tube ratings go down if it looks too pre-planned."

3. There is a pod-water bed, hammock, or futon involved.

4. She says: "My mother doesn't usually watch, she just gets nervous when I bring someone new home."

5. His idea of cuddling resembles frotterism.

6. She says: "I could lay here with you forever"....then dies. (You later find out she is 20 years older than she told you)

7. You met him coming out of the "Divorce Court" taping.

8. His work title starts with "The Honorable..."

9. You were a little put off by her stuffed animals, but the clincher was the report card on her cork board over the desk with a post-it note that says: "Good job, honey. Love Dad"

10. He says: "Here, give me a second to clear this tarp and move the shovel out of your way, so you can sit down. Do you have any false teeth?"


Oh yes, I did. I know...and you laughed. (Even if nervously. S'ok. No one saw)

Sunday, May 4, 2008

10 ways to tap into your inner child this spring.

Today is the kind of day where every inhale of fresh air feels like a white light of cleansing breathe that flows all the way through your body. I laid in a Huckleberry Finn fashion-arms behind head, barefoot with my knees to the blue sky. The "mini" followed suit. We lay there together watching the breeze blow through the trees. Flower petals sway-dancing to the ground. The contrast of bright blue and green. The swishing aliveness of it all. I have had Robert Plant and Alison Krauss's "Killing the blues" stuck in my head all day....and that's fine. It worked. I would have prefered Fleetwood Mac on a day like this, but so it goes.


It is hard to slow down, but it is essential. On a day like this, I couldn't imagine working at anything else. 10 things I suggest you try to do this spring to feel youthful and carefree:


1.) Lay on the ground. (yep) Resign that your dirty hair, clothes and feet will survive it. They will.

2.) Watch some clouds move slowly, and feel the scope of it all. So small in it all.

3.) Kiss someone lightly, bashfully and with pure intent to express the innocence of "like".

4.) Forgive that person now. Forgive with wild abandon because not doing so, does nothing for you.

5.) Focus on the little delights, and appreciate them.

6.) Take a walk for no reason, to no place.

7.) Dance with a child. Learn from their inhibitions. They spit, and fall, and look goofy, and really? Why not? Who cares.

8.) Be grateful.

9.) Get on a swing, lean back, and close your eyes into the sun. Feel the warmness of sunshine splash over your face.

10.) Love with your whole heart and trust your instincts. Some of the worst in us comes through only when we doubt or ignore what we knows is true.
Lazy days and Sundays....the richness in the little things.

"Somebody said they saw me swinging the world by a tail/bouncing over a white cloud/killing the blues..."

My skin is buzzing for "Sex AND the City" movie!!!

Ha cha cha. I really don't know what to do with myself until May 30th. The Sex AND the city movie is soon to be the eye and heart candy I have been waiting for. I still remember my best birthday. I was 25. I was alone with a bottle of expensive Pinot/Cab blend and the entire DVD set. I laughed, cried, over-identified, and most of all: I felt like I was not alone in my stumbles through the mine-field of love, sex and the elusive search for myself.

It's a bit grainy (and probably subject to being deleted, until I can find the official version). But...man does it make my tummy tingle and my chest pound in my ears. The India Arie cover of Don Henley's "Heart of the Matter" gets me ready to throw on some sexy heels, a mini-skirt and start spinning with my arms wide open in the sunny streets of SoHo.




I will be crushed if Carrie doesn't end up with Mr Big. I expect full-frontal footage from a Samantha escapade. (Why not? "Forgetting Sarah Marshall did it..)If nothing else, I hope for it to stay true to the characters and being somewhat plausible.

I will leave you with a few of my all-time favorite quotes:

"But the most exciting, challenging and significant relationship of all is the one you have with yourself. And if you can find someone to love the you you love, well, that's just fabulous.” (Carrie)

“Maybe some women aren't meant to be tamed. Maybe they just need to run free til they find someone just as wild to run with them.”(Carrie)

"Some people are settling down, some people are settling and some people refuse to settle for anything less than butterflies." (Carrie)

"You men have no idea what we're dealing with down there. Teeth placement, and jaw stress, and suction, and gag reflex, and all the while bobbing up and down, moaning and trying to breathe through our noses. Easy? Honey, they don't call it a job for nothin" (Samantha)

Oddly enough, I think some of my life decisions were swayed or ballooned by this show. Good or bad, I was 20-something and eager to feel a part of the sub-culture of women winding their way to some type of "happily ever after". I have had my belt notches, I have made my mistakes, and I am a fumbling work in progress...but I haven't stopped laughing at myself, and building rich relationships, that has to count for something.

All of this begs the scary question: Am I temporarily more excited about the prospects of these fictional women than of my own present reality?

...Absof*ckinglutely.

My heavy heart and condolences for "Eight Belles".

I was punchy yesterday. I'm punchy most days. But I couldn't shake that hovering cloud of tragedy that hung over the usually celebratory day at Churchill Downs. As with every year, I watch the ESPN pre-show, and then the NBC covered back-story lineup. I cried at the over-dramatized stories of children's illnesses, fights against addiction...etc (no surprise). What I wasn't prepared for, was seeing a horse lose her life.


"Eight Belles" was the lone filly in the 20-horse race. It was the 134th Kentucky Derby, and last time a filly won was twenty years ago. I remember hearing her trainer (Larry Jones) riding her saying "I know half of 'em will be betting on her, against their husband's judgement". He was talking about the women in the stands.

She ran the race without problem, she placed second and galloped with the rest of the horses, until she collapsed onto the track. Compound fractures in both front-ankles. Without a leg to stand on, she had to be euthanized. My heart sank.

Later, Larry Jones was quoted saying:

"...It wasn't a big bumping match for her. She never got touched,...She passed all those questions ... with flying colors. The race was over, all we had to do was pull up, come back and be happy. It just didn't happen."

There are all kinds of reactions. People dismissing the horses death as a "part of the game" and other's criticizing the owners. It's America, say what you will. It is sad to me. I have nothing but compassion for all those involved in her career. It is a loss. I can't imagine the vulnerability and sheer glee they must have felt watching the filly beat 18 other horses to place second, only to be stunned by her sudden injury and loss. The awkward guilt and lack of closure surrounding the team collecting the winnings without a horse to brush or nuzzle with pride would be too much for me.

Not only was it a loss for her team, but something was diminished for the "Big Brown" team. Their horse was the first to come from the 20 spot and win. It is a shame for a once-in-a-lifetime win to be overshadowed by death. We will see him in the Preakness though, where he can continue to prove his abilities in a less complicated dynamic of triumph and tragedy.

R.I.P "Eight Belles"
I really need get a grip on my too-easily inflated heart...I will provoke giggles or guffaws in the coming hours...You'll see.

Saturday, May 3, 2008

The "Burden" of Choice.


....Cross-posted from Chicago Moms Blog.

A month ago, I was in a third interview with a reputable firm. I had made my way to the EVP and the Director of marketing. We started the negotiation of flex-time -at least 1 day from home.I didn't get the job. The consolation phrase was: "We'd hire you today if you could do 5 days a week." Fair enough. I get it. But then the man said(empathetically): "Funny? You never hear about men having to argue a case explaining their devotion to their career AND family.That is the burden of choice, I guess." I will reiterate that sentiment for emphasis; those were his words, not mine.

I smiled, shook hands, and walked out....pissed. After further consideration I wondered if there might be some marginal truth in that statement? Women before me worked tirelessly, and often without accolades to reserve the right of title to modern day's "Supermom". I don't want to deep dive into the social and highly debatable issues of it all. Today...it's just a personal story of choice, fear, and the great unknown.

Monday, I officially announced my departure from my current day-job, where I am able to work a flex schedule.I was lucky as the client's request for my return after having my daughter gave me leverage to do so. It's a strange thing, endings. I was once coined: "The Velvet Hammer" by co-workers. I feel a little loss of that identity. My job required a graceful balance between being accommodating and hard-to-break. I was good at it. I am good at it. I just feel a changing wind, and decided to listen to my instincts and seek something different. I have been constantly twisting and bending my hopes both professional and maternal, to find a fit. I didn't sleep so well thinking about everything. Rationally, I know that raising children is one of the single most important things I can ever do, especially in today's world. I also know(cringe/squint) that I am not one of those women innately born to be a stay-at-home mother.

I feel like I am standing at the bottom of a set of diving board stairs. A huge staked sign says: "Caution, no lifeguard." Each board represents a climb to something: staying home full-time (which, if I'm being honest, scares me; it was HARD the first 8 months. I tried it), full-time career, and the diminished and hard-to-find part-time options in my industry. Each diving board is a leap into the unknown. There is a inverse correlation to all the things I find important, no matter which one I scale and stand on.

More than anything, I struggle with the blessings I was afforded by my late father. I feel wasteful. He was a self-made man, born in Tanzania. He started out wearing a hard-hat in oil fields, and paid his way through university in England.He then worked his way to a very comfortable life for our family. I didn't really want for anything; he provided. I didn't pay for my college; he did. Somehow, he managed to instill a work ethic in me, not always seen in my prep-school friends and other privileged peers. He was a bit of a hero in my eyes. His goal was always to allow for opportunity, yet he was a callous business man, too. His words to me were, "Never depend on a man or his bank account, you never know when either one will run out of what you need." It was a harsh mantra for a young girl, but the things we hear in formidable years are hard to unlearn. Not shockingly, I am perhaps a little callous and a little independent, sometimes to a fault.

So here I am, racked with guilt. Wanting to "do more" with my life. Hoping to stay an intensive part of my daughter's upbringing, yet also hoping to set an example for her, and forthcoming options she may have. I really do try to balance all these conflicting wants and needs while smiling and keeping the family satisfied, okay, alive and fed. Eeek.

Which brings me back to that word "burden": There is no clear path for me. We can afford for me NOT to work.(boo-hoo, I know). So finding another similar job isn't necessary, but it's an option. My husband actually appreciates and pushes me to explore my own business ideas and is open to "Whatever makes sense for me." That's an option. Staying home...it's an option. Like I said before, I sound frivolous and ungrateful. I am not. I am very aware of my circumstances and surprisingly, like all things worth having...it is hard.

In my case, I recognize it's a great problem to have. I am stuck in over-analysis paralysis right now faced with the conundrum of not squandering the choices, yet somehow figuring out how to let that very concept of choice work for me, instead of against me. Here's hoping!