Archive for September, 2008

Ruby, Fishies and Other Fishies.

Tuesday, September 30th, 2008

1. I work with Nelly and Nelly has a dog, a maltese named Ruby, who came to work a week ago. Ruby is a lovely little fluffy thing who plays with you and wiggles her butt stub masquerading as a tail and is generally all kind of sweet. But being at work all day is boring, so she spent most of her day chillin’ in her carry bag, looking like this:


What could it be? Perhaps a large hairy white muffin? And then you’d say, “Hey Ruby…” and you’d get this:


So cute! I did that about sixty times.

2. I was visiting Neenernator this weekend and, as usual, being unable to do anything but watch her totally rad fishtank. She has a Jack Dempsey:


And an albino pleco (suckerfish):


And a festive variety of other fishies (those are my favorites). She also has two lumpy iridescent blue fish, a male and a female. We were looking at them on Saturday and we noticed the female’s fins were shredded and thin. I expressed concern that it could be fin rot, and then the male sauntered up and started chomping on the lady bluefish’s fins. Just chewing on them with his teeny-tiny teeth. I was like, “Wha…?” and Neenernator said, “Yeah, that’s how he courts her. See all the scars on their faces? They bite each other’s faces and hang on and drag each other around the tank.” This has to be the worst courting ritual EVER. It’s way worse than the schoolyard prank of shoving a snowball down the back of the shirt of the girl who interests you. What do the fish do in the wild? Does a male saunter up to another male and say, “Look over there. She that fish that looks like Frankenstein’s monster, who can’t swim around because her fins are like wet toilet paper? Aww yeah. She’s my girl. Gonna make a great mom one day, if I don’t gnaw on her and make her all mangledy in the baby-making parts. Because that’s love, dawg, that’s love.”

3. Speaking of fish, I hung my deep-sea fish paintings in my apartment. I really don’t like to hang my own art in my own place, it makes me feel arrogant (“Only MY art is worthy of MY walls”) and self-centered. But my momma loves the fishes and she wants to see them all the time, so I did it. And here they are, in all their fishy glory.


I iz a nurd.

Tuesday, September 30th, 2008

I like lolcats. For those of you who don’t know what they are, they are pictures of cats. With words around them. And they took the internet by storm and show no signs of stopping. As long as cats make funny anthropomorphic faces, people will put words on them and lolcats will continue. Here are a few of my favorites.

1168702253-1167652659981.jpg 2000035887522228730_rs11.jpg funny-pictures-beowulf-bill-cat.jpg its-beautiful.jpg funny-pictures-christina-ricci-cat-pink-thing.jpg satquestionw128443413017500000.jpg

Occasionally they have lolcats that do not involve cats. These are also equally funny.

funny-pictures-robo-ram.jpg funny-pictures-angry-weasel-soup.jpg funny-pictures-porcupine-kisses-stump.jpg 128297011302345000andatswheni.jpg

Everybody with us now on the lolcat issue? Good. Continuing on. I like lolcats. And at BBDO I had access to a very large printer. So I went and got myself a big frame and printed myself a large lolcat compilation poster. I like my bedroom to be white and devoid of wall hangings, but I compromised and hung the lolcat poster in a corner. But new lolcats come out everyday so I collected them and printed them out and hung them around my framed piece. It’s the only art in my bedroom.

lolcat1.jpg lolcat2.jpg

I reiterate my original point: I iz a nurd.

My co-worker’s wedding.

Monday, September 22nd, 2008

My co-worker Mili got married two weeks ago, and it was a hoot. It was on the beach in Long Island at sunset, the gods were compassionate and the sun shone and it was so beautiful. Here, a picture to show the beauty.


And right after the wedding, I took a picture of the seats with the ocean and the sand and the planks – see? SO beautiful.


As soon as they were pronounced man and wife, Mili did a “raise the roof” dance complete with some shrieking of glee, because Mili is a free spirit and that’s how she rolls. Apparently so does M., the groom. Remember that, it comes up later.


Anyway, ceremony’s over. Time for drinkies and snakkies and ice sculptures and melons carved as dolphins. Oh yeah.


You need more melons? I’ll give you more melons.


Then it’s excessive dancing and dinner time. I sat with some of my other co-workers. I work with some lovely ladies. Look at how pretty they are.


So thin, so tan. And then there’s me.


There’s me and the Cricket. Note the super-awesome drag queen/Vegas dancer makeup. I was just ROCKIN’ the liner and shadow. The hell with the natural look. For me, the natural look is no makeup. If it ain’t bare, slap on the paint, boys, I’m going to town. Oh, and you can’t really see it in this picture, but I matched my nail polish exactly to my shirt. I’m so proud of myself I could spit.

Moving on. There were a few things at this wedding which caught my eye. First of all, I loved the glowing octopus of lights that softened the ceiling.


The other thing was this girl. She had nice straight hair but she had decided to crimp it, 80s style. I have nothing against crimping, it just… she just stuck the iron in her hair, clamped down and then moved on to a totally different chunk.


See? Confusing. I spoke to Mili later and it turns out that CrimpGirl’s a total Luna Lovegood whackadoo and everyone at the wedding who knew her was just glad she wore a bra. Pick your battles, I guess. But I think it was a wonderful wedding and the food was delicious and the band was UH-mazing (I think AC/DC should from now on be sung only by black women with shaved heads, because that’s what happened and it was phenomenal) and Mili danced with her father to a song I keep insisting on calling Buffalo Kisses, because I am not bright. Terrific evening.

The whole point of telling you about this wedding is so I could tell you about this honeymoon story I heard today when Mili got back. Mili and M. went to Aruba and stayed in a Hyatt because Mili’s brother works for Hyatt and got them a bit of a discount. So the second day they get tanked on the beach and go back to the room and M. decides to dance. But he could not fully express his dancerly needs on the floor, so he proceeded to dance on the bed, where he smacked his hand against the painting above the bed and shattered the glass in it. His hand was fine, but now there’s this painting with a gazillion cracks through it. Mili didn’t want to pay $1000 or whatever the crappity painting costs, and she didn’t want to get her brother into trouble either, so she put the “do not disturb” sign on the door for two days while she thought of a plan. Then, when Mili and M. were on the beach, a guy offered them a cooler full of Heineken. She saw the cooler and was like, “Hello, solution to my problems.” They drank the Heinekens (of course) and then went back to the room, where she moved the bed, then laid a towel down on the floor. M. gently shook all the glass onto the towel, which they folded up and shoved in the cooler. Mili was like, “Good, great, find a dumpster far away and throw it in.” M. complies. He comes back white-faced. Mili asked what was wrong and M. said he carried the cooler out to a faraway dumpster and threw the cooler in, with some towel hanging out the side. Some people walking by looked at him like he was crazy and said something about “Oh my God, a baby in a cooler.” Mili said, “Well, what did you do?” M. said, “I ran.” So they ended hanging out in the room for a whole day, convinced that the cops would be looking for M. as The Cooler-Baby Killer. PERFECT honeymoon story. PERFECT. You cannot write stuff that good.


Monday, September 22nd, 2008

I work in advertising and I watch an inordinate amount of TV, so even though I have TiVo, I still end up watching many commercials. I would like to comment on two of them that have recently caught my eye.

1. Subway Sandwiches, please stop referring to your subs as “yum rockets”. That’s not hip lingo, it’s vaguely pornographic and nauseating and it makes the viewer want to eat at Quizno’s. Thank you.

2. Pantene, a six-step routine to make your hair voluminous is not “easy”. It takes like, an hour for me to do all the things Maria Menounos recommends. Would you like to hear my hair styling tips? I wash my hair with shampoo and conditioner, towel-dry… that’s it. There’s some brushing in there too, but that takes maybe fifteen seconds. No root-spritzing, no curlers, no blow-drying in sections. Maria, call me, I’ll tell you all about the real meaning of easy. Wait, that didn’t come out right.

Fringe and a bracelet.

Wednesday, September 17th, 2008

1. Has anyone been watching the new show on Fox, Fringe? Does it not suck seven ways to Sunday? The dialogue, it’s so bad. You can hear the writers scrunch up their eyes and ball up their fists and say, “We’re as witty as House and as spooky and edgy as The X Files, oh yes we are!” It’s on after House, so I’ll probably watch it again, but I’m only giving it one more chance. If it continues to blow, I’m going to… well, I’m going to watch something else. Yes. That didn’t sound as dramatic as I hoped it would.

2. I made a bracelet. Let’s all look at it, shall we?


It’s an acorn and two partridges with eggs in ’em. I think it turned out well. I have to redo the chain parts, one side is too long and one side is too short, so I’m going to go all Goldilocks on it and get it just right.


Wednesday, September 17th, 2008

I have decided to go on a diet, which began yesterday. Snorth has been having great success with her diet (go Snorth!) so I too am making a go of it. I do not which to be mistaken for a large ghost anymore. A more slender ghost, maybe, but not a poofy one.

Day 1 was okay, I was all hyped up, but today I just feel… well, I think this video will tell you how I feel.

A Taste of White Plains.

Sunday, September 14th, 2008

Today I finished the tasks I had set for myself by 2:00, so I headed into White Plains for A Taste of White Plains: Food and Antique Car Show. It was delightful, a real home-town kind of event. They had gigantic inflatable castles and slides for the kiddies and live music. I got to try some Indian food from the Indian place in the neighborhood that I was unfamiliar with (channa saag, how I love thee) and see a variety of nifty ancient vehicles. They were all lined up in the street, and as I was sauntering by I noticed a particular one. It was a navy blue 1937 Chevy with the phrase “Meet Mr. Floatie!” on it. Underneath that was a character I can only describe as a jocular turd with a yellow sailor’s hat on. My incredulity drove me to investigate. I kept thinking, “Oh, this is just a clever marketing ploy to draw me in.” Nope. Mr. Floatie is indeed a turd. And the Floatie-mobile is from my hometown of Rye, NY. I’m so proud. However ooky you find the whole thing, it is for a good cause: to clean up a bit of the harbor that has trash and raw sewage running into it and ruining the ecology. A nice lady handed me a square of toilet paper with the web address and the phrase “Because Fecal Matters” on it. Dear God, enough with the poop references, guys. But wait, it gets worse. I’m going to copy and paste the most horrifying part from an article I found.

According to Tartaglione, Mr. Floatie, a “a seven foot turd that will soon be walking up and down on Purchase Street greeting residents handing out Hershey bars and business cards, bringing attention to all the issues on Hen Island that have been ignored for years.”

I am so glad I don’t live in Rye anymore. I could not deal with a giant mascot excrement wandering around Main Street handing out food that vaguely resembles excrement. And while I didn’t bring my camera, thx to the Nternet, I found a picture of the Floatie-mobile.


Please help clean up the harbor in Rye, only so they stop with Mr. Floatie. Let us give them so much money that the Mr. Floatie-mobile can have the decals taken off and it can return to being a nice vintage vee-hickle. Please. Make the bad men stop.

I saw some movies. Let’s talk about them.

Tuesday, September 9th, 2008

1. I finally saw No Country For Old Men. I consider myself relatively smart and cultured, and I would like to say I do not get this movie and I do not understand why it won a bunch of Oscars. The main character (a man named Llewelyn played by Josh Brolin) is out a-huntin’ and comes across a bunch of trucks with dead people and their dead pit bulls in the middle of the desert. It’s a drug deal gone awry. Llewelyn finds two million dollars and takes it. We are supposed to feel a connection with this Llewelyn character. I had a great deal of difficulty doing this because, and stick with me here, if I find a festive pile of human and animal corpses all shot to hell with piles of drugs on a truck and a suitcase of money, I don’t care if the damn holy grail is in one of those trucks, I’m vacating the premises and I’m not taking any tokens of the experience. Nothing. Just leaving slowly, backing out of there and sprinting to sign up for witness protection. OF COURSE an angry and insane man (Anton Chigurh, played by Javier Bardem, being his awesomely sexy self) comes looking for his money. It’s two million dollars. You think he would write it off as a contribution to the greater good of society? Come now, Coen Brothers, I expect better of you. And then the movie continues with Llewelyn hiding the money and Anton coming looking for it and killing people en route as angry and insane drug kingpins tend to do. And then, two hours of this later, the movie ends. It just ends. I like some kind of resolution in my films. I want someone to die or kill someone or have an epiphany or get the girl or something, anything. And I get naught. So I do not like No Country For Old Men. I think it should be called “No Country For Dumbasses Who Come Across Dead Guys And Loads Of Money And Think They Can Just Take Said Money And Everything Will Be Fine.” That would be more applicable.

2. Last night I went to a premiere showing of The Duchess with Ralph Fiennes and Kiera Knightley. If you like movies like Mrs. Brown and Dangerous Liaisons, then you’re gonna LOVE this film. Kiera changes outfits in every scene. Really. No two outfits or hairstyles are on screen for more than five minutes. Since the film hasn’t even come out, I don’t really want to delve too deep into the plot, but perhaps I will talk about it more in the future. And it’s based on a true story, which is always interesting. It’s like learning history without even trying.

Which is worse?

Saturday, September 6th, 2008

A tattoo of a dolphin smoking a bong in a ripped Laz-E-Boy chair surrounded by totally unrelated and crappity tattoos…

– OR –

A tattoo of a croissant reading the paper and drinking a cup of coffee located on some guy’s butt cheek?

I will now post both choices for you to look at. Then you can make a decision for yourself. And cry yourself to sleep.

(Also, I pixelled out the butt-crack because, frankly, no one needs to see that.)

bong.jpg    croissant_0.jpg

Thanks to gigglesugar for the pics.


Thursday, September 4th, 2008

This commercial causes me to crack up every time. Especially at 21 seconds.