Cutting the Blog Loose

To make sure I don't get a pink slip, I'm not going to be blogging under She Harps Again any longer.  I think it's the safest thing for me to do particularly since I'll be working for the government. 

I like to get snarky with it way too much, and, then, there's the temptation to use dirty, smutty words, because, boy, oh boy, they're my favorites when I'm trying to get a point across.

If you've enjoyed reading my blog, move on with me, because I'm going to start a new blog. I haven't decided what the theme will be or if the blog will have a theme, but I'll send my entries to Google+.

Lady Gaga's Body Revolution Ain't Got Much Back

 

 

 

Just a few weeks ago or even less than that Lady Gaga was being criticized in the media for having gained some weight.  Her costumes were a little too snug at some of her concerts, and, of course, body snarkers pounced on that extra poundage with cruel comments.  Some media outlets photoshopped Gaga to look larger, which is ironic considering glossy magazines are always making stars slimmer and wrinkle-free.  Gaga responded to the media by saying she had been indulging in carbs at her father's Italian restaurant in NYC and, as a result, had gained 25 pounds.  In true Gaga nature, she gave the body snarkers her middle finger and initiated a body revolution.  On her website, she posted photos of her fabulous +25 body in a bra and undies.  Now, I do agree with her speaking out and saying, "Yea, so I gained a few pounds?  Kiss my extra pounds."  But, come on, when extra pounds look like that.  Oh my, Dog!  With that said, I don't agree with her staging this body revolution. This photo display of her fabulous body just seems counter-productive in some ways, because people see Gaga's fabulous body being labeled pudge and feel even worse about their own bodies, because, for most of us out there, may we even be so lucky to look as good as her at her pudgiest.  Maybe it was a bad idea to stage this body revolution.  Could it be that this revolt is just reinforcing all those bad feelings about ourselves?  Why can't I look like a fat Gaga and so on and so forth. . .

 

I ask you to look at this photo above.  Does that look like chubbing out?  No.  She's even in direct sunlight, and there's no visible cellulite.  Her stomach looks pancake flat, and there's even some ribbage.  I can't see her butt, but I'm guessing that woman doesn't even have enough back to stage a body revolution.  Red beans and rice missed her, I just know it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Daily Photo

If you've been following my past few daily photos, this is one of the backstops I was mentioning.  I thought that maybe the nets and rims were taken in at night for safe-keeping, so I asked a friend of mine who teaches at Delmae.  He told me that there are, in fact, no nets or rims.  That's Cash in the background.

Daily Photo

In keeping with my photo expose of the playground equipment at my alma mater, Delmae Elementary School, I'd like you to see that the kids play basketball using the funnel ball equipment, because they do not have basketball nets or rims.

Korean Air's "Coffee, Tea, or Me" Uniforms

In the sixties in America, flight attendants or, rather, stewardesses back then, were subjected to weigh-ins, and, of course, they had to be bubbly, beautiful, and available.  Then, along came the infamous line "coffee, tea, or me." Eventually, equality in the workplace, enforcement against sexual harassment, and the spread of the feminist movement did away with this female objectification in flight.  It looks like Korean Air is way behind in the evolution of feminism in the friendly skies.

This video I've posted is a Korean Air commercial that shows the new uniforms of Korean Air's flight attendants, so is that going to make you choose to fly Korean Air?  All of the attendants are females.  There is no male presence in sight except for the one Marlene Dietrich-esque suit ensemble, and gender bending hardly qualifies. 

The flight attendants dance to an electropop song while seductively doing teases with their uniforms.  Then, there's the strobe light effect. 

Does Korean Air have any amenities to offer?  I don't know, but looks like their flight attendants wear stylish uniforms.  That's really the only amenity I require when I fly-a fashionable piece of you know what serving me my Diet Coke and peanuts or wine if I'm sitting beside a lunatic. 

Nice work, Korean Air.

Impoliteness at The Gym and One of These Days I'm Going to Go All Walter Sobchak

I love Planet Fitness for several reasons.  It's a no frills gym;  there are no classes; no medieval-looking pilates machines; meatheadedness is discouraged; and it emphasizes physical health and fitness over sculpting your physique.  The cost is a steal at 10 dollars a month for a regular membership and 20 dollars a month for a black card membership, which does have its perks.  The black card membership allows you to bring a guest for free every single day if you want to, and you have free access to the massage chairs and tanning.  I don't use the tanning bed, but I do use the massage chairs from time to time.  I do, however, abuse the guest privilege.  Brad goes with me to the gym every time I go.  Those little extras do make the black card membership for the additional 10 dollars. 



The 30 Minute Express Workout Room

My most favorite thing about Planet Fitness, above all else, is the 30 minute express exercise circuit.  It's cloistered in a partitioned area in the far back corner of the gym.  As the name suggests, it only takes 30 minutes to complete the circuit.  There are 10 weight machines and 10 steppers.  The weight machines are lined around the outer circumference of the area and the 10 steppers are arranged in a circle in the center of the area.  A stoplight is at the top of the ceiling, and when the light turns green you do however many reps you're capable of on one of the weight machines.  Then, when the light turns red, you stop doing reps and move to one of the steppers, and, when the light turns green, you start stepping to get some cardio in to burn calories and boost your heart rate until the light turns red.  Then, you move to the next weight machine and repeat.

There's a numerical order to this workout, but there are some assholes who come into this area and think they can be all willy nilly and move from any numbered machine to any other numbered machine.  I want to scream, "There's an order to this, turd.  Follow it before you're eating my tennis shoe leather."  They mess up the whole system, so there I am waiting and waiting and getting madder and madder.  I feel myself getting hotter and hotter, and, if I'm listening to some tough ass rap song or rock song, I'm feeling a lot tougher than I am in the real world so tough, in fact, that I might pick a fight.  Thankfully, I never do.

Just the other day, there was this woman who got on the stepper that was intended for me.  All she was doing was stepping all lah dee dah like.  She was playing at working out like a kid plays house.  Being a good citizen, I was going in order the way the directions instructed me to do so, and I had to adjust my order for her lah dee dah self.  There I was accommodating this out-of-order pain in my ass.  Let me not forget to mention those two buff-o-zoid guys who routinely come into the express workout room to use the weight machines at their leisure and order of their choice.  Never mind that I'm trying to go in the specified order.  Oh yea, and how about wiping down the weight machines next time, jerkwads, so I don't have to clean the ass checks sweat spot you left me on the weight machine's seat?  Follow the rules, people.  Am I the only one who follows the damn rules?  I feel like Walter Sobchak way too much these days.

Daily Photo

The old playground equipment at Delmae Elementary School.  This has been around since my days, which puts this equipment at 20 to 22 years old.  Those are classroom mobile units in the background used to accommodate all the overcrowding of real estate in the school proper.  Making this atmosphere a little sadder is that there are no nets or rims on the basketball court.  There are only backstops. 

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Cash going down the slide at Delmae Elementary School, my alma mater.  Brad's at the top of the slide, and I chopped of his head.  You can see a little bit of his beard.  He's giving a shout out to the Heavy Metal Store in SLC, UT wearing his shirt "Heavy Metal Store, Peddling Evil Since 1987."

South Park Lampoons Honey Boo Boo

I commented on Google+ that watching South Park lampoon Honey Boo Boo wasn't as painful as watching the debate that had a lying, snake oil salesman, poking the lion Mittens and a lackluster, bored, indifferent, up his own ass Obama, but I'm now regretting my words.  South Park's lampoon was every bit as disturbing as the presidential debate.

The episode unfolds with James Cameron, my most hated director, diving 20,000 leagues down into the depths of the sea to raise the proverbial bar of standards.  Meanwhile, Here Comes Honey Boo Boo's ratings are soaring, Cartman gains a few extra pounds to get a prescription and insurance assistance for a motorized scooter to carry his girth, and Kyle, always the philosophical moral center, decides to make a documentary illustrating that we can be both sensitive to the obesity epidemic and intolerant of having to adjust our lifestyles to accommodate, well, motorized carts for the obese.

Token gets in on the documentary and together Token and Kyle decide to choose Cartman to be the star of their documentary, and they quickly begin chronicling Cartman's exploits.  After filming, Token edits the video footage without Kyle's knowledge.  Kyle believes he and Token are making a serious social commentary about obesity, but Token has another idea in mind that he doesn't share with Kyle.  Token assigns Cartman the moniker Fatty Poo Poo and piggybacks off the success of Honey Boo Boo to make some easy cash.  Kyle, of course, feels betrayed and is steaming mad.   

During Fatty Poo Poo's stardom, Honey Boo Boo gets a pig heart transplant from a sassy pig, and starts to mimic a pig oinking on the kitchen floor for some sketti, butter, and ketchup.  At this point, I feel outraged.  South Park should lay off the children, but it starts to become evident that Trey Parker and Matt Stone are quietly and smartly commenting on how their own show has lowered the bar.

In the end, James Cameron finds the bar, raises the bar, and people slowly begin acting with civility.  The sketti smackdown getting ready to take place between the nation's two, husky, nasty sweethearts-Fatty Poo Poo and Honey Boo Boo-is called off right in the middle of Honey Boo Boo slaughtering Fatty Poo Poo, and people in the smackdown audience collectively question why they're there watching that abomination.  Kyle looks to Stan and says something along the lines of "I wonder what this means for our future."  I think we know the answer to that.  South Park will continue to lower the bar, and I will likely continue to watch that show knowing that it's not good for me and my own personal bar.

Homemade Body Scrub That You Can Eat

I love, love, love this homemade body scrub that only has two ingredients-natural lemon juice and sugar.  I'm sure I read about this mixture somewhere, but I have no idea where; however, it could've been my idea during one of those moments of sublime genius that happens to me from time to time.

Usually lemons can be found in my kitchen, and sugar is always there seeing as how sugar is a staple cabinet item.  There's no science or math to mixing these two ingredients, and there's no equal parts or one part to two parts or whatever dipshit instructions like those mean.

Just pour sugar in a bowl and add lemon juice until you're satisfied with the consistency of the mixture.  You'll figure it out.

The sugar is going to remove dead, dull skin cells or what some Clarins make-up lady told me was the horny layer of your skin while she was looking at my skin with a sucking teeth, yuck face.  Sugar is also a natural glycolic acid, which evens skin tone, and sugar can improve the overall texture of your skin.

The lemon works as an astringent or toner minus the harsh alcohol that most drugstore astringents and toners contain, and it can tighten the skin and shrink pores.

I wouldn't use this on my face.  I'm pretty particular about the scrub I use on my face, because it should be very, very gentle, and I think that even a granule of sugar is too rough.  Please, if I can offer any advice on facial scrubs, it is to never ever under any condition use St. Ives Apricot Scrub.  That shit is like scouring your face with gravel bits.  And remember to be gentle on your face.  You don't have to rub a facial scrub in like you are sanding off three layers of lead-based paint that could kill you in 5-4-3-2-1.

Okay, so use this on your body not your face.  When you get out of the shower, apply lotion.  You're going to feel refreshed and moisturized.  Don't forget to eat the leftovers.

I Need a Good Dry Shampoo

I was using dry shampoo before it was cool, okay.  Yea, I was, and it was my little secret, a well kept secret that I didn't share with anyone.  Dry shampoo, at that time, wasn't easy to come by like it is now.  I was using the cult favorite, Batiste, in the blush scent.  Psst, like Batiste, has been around forever, but I've never tried it, because the bottle looks too old timey shaving cream can for my grandpa.  Ick.  Batiste works well.  I would give my hair and blast or two of this stuff, brush it out, and my hair would have a little volume to it, which was an added bonus.  I'd throw may hair up in a higher pony tail than usual with a little hair height at the crown of my head, and be skipping happy I got away with not washing my hair.

Well, I got cheap or cheaper.  It's not as if Batiste is expensive, but I went with the even cheaper Sauve.  This stuff sucks.  I blast it in my hair, and it turns my hair a gray-ish tint from the pressurized powdery substance in the can, which upsets me, because I can't seem to get that gray-ish color out once I blast it in.  It takes a lot of the Sauve to absorb the oil in my hair too.  I keep using it, because I'm going to feel guilty if I throw it out, but I'm going to throw it out one of these days after it dyes my hair gray, and I'm stomping mad.  The kind of stomping mad that can only be calmed with some chocolate and a Diet Coke or a cocktail. 

Don't skimp on a dry shampoo if you can help it.  If Sauve sucks, I bet Tresemme and all those other drugstore brands aren't so great either.  I'm going to go back to Batiste or I might buy Bed Head Rockaholic Dirty Secret Dry Shampoo, because I like the name.  Now, isn't that a smart shopper?  No, it's not.

Got suggestions on a good dry shampoo?

Yea, That's My Face Cream Beside the Cheese and Deli Meat. So?

I keep my face cream and my eye cream in the refrigerator, and when I put it on I go to heaven for a minute or two and shake hands with St. Peter on a cloud.  Then, I come back.

There are a few benefits to keeping your face and eye cream in the refrigerator.  First, there's a cooling sensation, and that's the handshake with St. Peter on a cloud experience.  The second benefit is that you're likely to not over apply, because the refrigeration firms and thickens the creams.  Since the creams are firm and thick, you feel like you don't need as much.  It's probably a brain trick, but it works.  My creams have lasted longer since going in the fridge.  I do know that much, and I think it's because of that little brain trick.  The cold application of the cream can help to tighten pores, which is another added bonus.  Beyond that, I don't know if there are any additional benefits, but it does make for a nice experience, and it does make a cream last longer, which is important to a lot of us during this time of economic woe.

I don't know if creams can have temperature shock when they are moved from cold to hot.  It's not funny, because your cream really can get shocked.  How would you like that to happen to you?  I always leave mine in the fridge, and don't move them.  That might be something for you to consider.  Moving from temperature to temperature could compromise the integrity of the cream as in that cream might go whoring it up.  No, silly.  Compromise the integrity as in it might weaken the ingredients of the cream.

Daily Photo

The Snapping Turtle that Brad and I saved.  We found it in his parents' neighbor's yard, and we captured it, put it in a plastic box, and dropped it off in the river.  It did a scared pee in the box.  See in the corner.  Poor, sad, little turtle.  We made it happy again though.

Two Halloween Hotties to Go Batty Over

 

 

Before Elvira was even wearing a training bra, there was Vampira, the first TV horror hostess with the mostest and I mean mostest as in cup size.  Her self-titled show ran for maybe a year in the mid 50s, and there were around 50 episodes, with a running time of an hour and a half each, all of which aired only in LA on an ABC affiliate network. 

Vampira had impossibly long nails and an even longer cigarette holder, and she'd do a seductive lounge on a velvet, Victorian settee while introducing the various D-List horror pictures airing on her show. 

She meant to be campy and sexual, and she did both well with her exaggerated mannerisms, ripped shroud of a dress with fishnet stockings, and that figure.  Ooo wee?  Can you imagine the pain?  It makes me think of Chinese foot binding.  Her show may have not lasted long, but she did get exposure on The Ed Sullivan Show and appear in a few national magazines.  It should come as no surprise to you that Vampira does have a cult following, and, at least through that, she does get to be channeled from beyond the grave. 

Fast forward thirty years, and we have Elvira who gave the Vampira character a reboot. Elvira, too, was a TV horror hostess for a show titled Movie Macabre, which, like The Vampira Show, featured a horror movie.  The Elvira character was perfect for the 80s scene with her sharp, quick-witted, Valley girl ways mixed with an extra helping of evil and goth.  She also ratcheted up the sex appeal with her even lower than Vampira cut dress.  I think it's justifiable to say that Elvira is much more popular than Vampira seeing as how she has name recognition, has been branded, has appeared in a Coors Light commercial, and is still asked to make appearances on TV, but she would have never existed had it not been for Vampira.  Below is a clip from Elvira: Mistress of the Dark from 1988.

Internet Detritus

Babies Kind of Hate Mitt(ens) Romney    


Kelly Osbourne Gets a $250,000 Black Diamond Manicure and Bitch Better Be Happy Some Poor Person Didn't Cut Off One of Her Sausage Fingers


10 Things We're So Over on Pinterest


Problems With the 2012 Emmy Awards in Five Pictures 

Daily Photo

Is that my leash?  I must be tripping, because that looks like a Cemophora coccinea.

Why Does the Shampoo Always Run Out Before the Condition?

I really, really, really hate it when the shampoo bottle runs out before the conditioner bottle, and I know this happens to you too.  It happens to every girl unless you're that annoying girl who follows all the women's magazines amount suggestions and only uses a quarter size amount for both shampooing and conditioning your hair.

One reason it irritates me so much that I hiss in the shower is because I hate to mix my shampoos and conditioners.  I'm just Type A like that.  I do not want to mix my shampoo with a non-matching brand and type of conditioner, but I also don't want to  buy a brand new bottle of conditioner to match the half empty shampoo bottle, because I like to use different brands, which means I have lots of half empty shampoo bottles in the shower since I have to have matching sets.

I use way too much conditioner in my hair, because I think it's going to nourish all those broken, split ends, but it's not.  It's not going to fuse them back together, and over-conditioning just weighs down my baby fine hair making it limp, but I want to believe split ends are fused back and the conditioner is going to make my hair soft, manageable, and bouncy like all those women in the shampoo and conditioner commercials who, we all know it, did not use the shampoo and conditioner being marketed to us. 

Because I use too much conditioner, I'm left with half a bottle of shampoo.  Near the end of the conditioner bottle's supply, I do try damn hard to make the conditioner last by taking the top off with my teeth, yes, in the shower, adding water, and shaking it up.  That maybe works for a few days, and then it's gone, and I'm left with half a bottle of shampoo, and I'm hissing in the shower once again.

Daily Photo

Tuck Schroeder in.  Nap time.

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Taken three summers ago at Antelope Island (45 minutes outside of Salt Lake City) when my family came to visit me.  Great trip! 

Is OPI or Essie The Better Nail Polish?

Versus

 

I rarely get manicures and pedicures with the exception of an occasional trip to the nail salon with a girlfriend or two, which happens maybe once or twice a year. That means I give myself a lot of manicures and pedicures at home.  If you're good at doing nails, then you really should reconsider all those expensive trips to the nail salon.  Just think about this, you could get maybe four or five bottles of a luxe nail polish brand for the cost of a salon manicure and pedicure, but which luxe nail polish should you buy?

 

There are several luxe nail polish brands-Essie, OPI, Orly, China Glaze, Zoya-that are stocked at the make-up meccas Ulta and Sephora.  I'm not going to waste my time product reviewing Orly, China Glaze, or Zoya, because they suck.  Essie and OPI, on the other hand, are fantastic!  With that said, they are very different from each other, but do share some similarities.

 

Both Essie and OPI have lasting power.  Whether you use Essie or OPI, your toenail polish is going to last for maybe one and half to two weeks, and that's not an exaggeration.  Your fingernail polish will look good for probably three days.  By the fourth day, you're going to have some chipping.  This is actually pretty good when you think about everything you do with your hands and nails during the day.  

 

OPI, unlike Essie, has a wide brush with a fat handle, which makes it faster and easier to paint your nails.  Swipe, swipe, you're done unless you go back and apply a second coat, which I always do.  Then it's swipe, swipe, blow nail, swipe, swipe.  Essie has a thinner brush with a skinny handle.  Because of its thinner brush, you do have to do about three swipes on the nail, and you have to be a little more careful to make sure you get an even paint coverage.

 

OPI nail polish may have a wider brush, but Essie doesn't get thick and goopy like OPI does after you've had it for a while.  The thick goopy sets in about a month after buying OPI, which is way too soon considering its price.  You can still use it, but the finished job isn't going to look as good as it did when you first used it.  That's why I prefer Essie to OPI, but I do have to admit OPI has more cutesy names for their colors, but what's in a name?

 

Take your pick.

 

 

 

 

 

 





Daily Photo

Brad pinning Schroeder on his back.  Eww, look at that pink, inner mouth tissue gone slack.

Honey Boo Boo's Season Finale Complete with a Pageant, Uncle Poodle, and an Eleven Fingered Baby

The hour long season finale of Here Comes Honey Boo Boo was weighed down with the crazy.  Baby Kaitlyn was born with two thumbs on her right hand; Uncle Poodle came to teach Alana a pageant routine; and Glitzy, my favorite cross-dressing teacup pig, was brought back.

The highly anticipated arrival of Baby Kaitlyn did not disappoint.  While new Baby Kaitlyn and new Mama Chickadee were bonding in the hospital bed, we saw the leftovers of Chickadee's hospital meal tray, and, don't be surprised, it was grits.  Honey Boo Boo announced to the world, "Baby Kaitlyn arrived on the biscuit express."  Forget the stork.  Everyone knows babies arrive on the biscuit express, duh. 

Baby Kaitlyn was brought into this world, by the biscuit express, with an extra thumb on her right hand, and that's just one more thumb for the sucking.  Honey Boo Boo was so excited to meet the new addition to their family that she said, "I'm so excited. I'm about to piss all over myself."  Piss wasn't the only thing she was worried about though.  Honey Boo Boo was also concerned that the "sunshine and happiness" smell of the baby would get overpowered by the baby's poop smell.

Kaitlyn's arrival coincided with one of Honey Boo Boo's pageants, so Honey Boo Boo couldn't compete, but she wasn't disappointed in the slightest.  One lesson that has been instilled in this feral Shirley Temple child is that family comes first, and she lives by that golden rule.  Luckily, for Honey Boo Boo,  Mama June was able to get her signed up for a later pageant titled "Miss Sparkle and Shine Pageant."  Honey Boo Boo's gay uncle, who Honey Boo Boo affectionately calls Uncle Poodle, came to visit the family and help Honey Boo Boo with her routine.  This child from a redneck, backwoods family has no problem with homosexuality, and that's why I love this family.  Their open-mindedness is an unexpected delight for me.  Honey Boo Boo yells into the camera, "Ain't nothing wrong with being a little gay."  Uncle Poodle helps Honey Boo Boo or tries to help Honey Boo Boo choreograph a pageant routine, but they end up having a grass fight.

Later, the whole family, complete with Baby Kaitlyn and Uncle Poodle, head to the "Miss Sparkle and Shine Pageant."  When Honey Boo Boo is being dressed for formal wear she tells her Mama June, "I think I'm a little chunky today."  Mama June tells Honey Boo Boo that she needs to stay away from the chicken nuggets, and little Honey Boo Boo pouts that she can't.  This exchange between the two is a little sad.  I'm not outraged by Mama June's response that Honey Boo Boo needs to stay away from chicken nuggets.  I'm more concerned that Honey Boo Boo will never learn to make healthy food choices or learn to just cut back a little on her food intake.  She's likely to become overweight during her teenage years.  Right now, this cute, spunky seven year old girl with some belly chub could become an unhealthy, overweight, sluggish, loud, obnoxious adolescent.  I don't want that to be her future.

Honey Boo Boo ended up winning "People's Choice" for the pageant, and she was very happy with herself, but she was even happier when Glitzy made an appearance at the end of the pageant crowning.  I'm not sure why TLC brought Glitzy back in for a cameo.  It was all a little strange, but who doesn't love a cross-dressing pig, so we'll let that go.  Oh well, another pageant went by with Honey Boo Boo not winning a Grand Supreme title, but here's to hoping and here's to hoping for a second season.  Cheers!

Lindsay Lohan Bastardizes Elizabeth Taylor and Her Legacy

 

Elizabeth Taylor whose life was a legacy of great cinema, beauty, jewels, love, good times, bad times, and, above all else, AIDS advocacy has been dead in her grave in Forest Lawn Memorial Park in Burbank, California since March 23rd of 2011, and we already have a biopic coming out on, all of channels, Lifetime-the quintessential "women are victims or sociopaths who'll burn a man in his bed if he cheats on her" channel.  The greatest honor of it all, however, is that Lindsay Lohan is playing (bastardizing) Elizabeth Taylor.

The Lifetime TV movie, Liz & Dick, will chronicle the tumultuous Hollywood love affair between the violet-eyed Elizabeth Taylor and the alpha male Richard Burton.  As most of us know, Lindsay Lohan has been in and out of court like it's a swinging door into her favorite coke party, has had numerous hit and run wrecks, ankle monitoring bracelets, and her rap sheet goes to infinity and beyond.  Maybe, just maybe, all of that could be overlooked if she could act, but she can't.  She probably couldn't even remember the lines to the Kit Kat commercial jingle were she given that gig.

On top of not being able to act, there is no resemblance between her and Elizabeth Taylor.  At this point in Lindsay Lohan's life, she looks like she has had so many collagen and botox injections that she's at 50 and holding, but how long can the 26 year old maintain that look is questionable.  The only clips that have shown a vague resemblance between Lohan and Taylor take place in the mid-life crisis period of Taylor's life, around the 1970s, when Taylor had some facial bloat.  Lohan has that sickish, alcohol bloat on the daily, so she had that going for her during make-up and costume prep.

On the set, there have been rumors and whisperings of her stealing expensive and priceless set pieces, and even trashing the original on-set trailer that Taylor stayed in during the filming of the epic Cleopatra, which, of course, she later denied.  While filming was underway, she stayed at the Chateau Marmont and drove up a bill somewhere in the neighborhood of $46,000, and she is now conveniently persona non grata. 

Lohan may have envisioned this role as her comeback or in the words of Norma Desmond, "I hate that word. It's a return, a return to the millions of people who have never forgiven me for deserting the screen."  Lohan may you not have the same, tragic fate of Desmond in Sunset Blvd, but I do hope you'll desert the screen just not on a deathbed.

Lady Gaga: What Does Her Face Look Like?

Ever since Lady Gaga came on the scene in 2008 with her clubby, electropop debut album Fame with its breakout tracks "Just Dance" and "Poker Face." I was a chained and tethered little monster fan.  Then she made additions to Fame with extended tracks and  titled the album The Fame Monster.  It included "Alejandro," "Bad Romance," and "Telephone."  I was running every day during that time and hitting the pavement hard, and I think those three songs helped me crank out an extra mile or two when I was huffing and puffing in the high altitude of Salt Lake City.

I watch period movies just for the costumes.  Two of my favorites are Marie Antoinette and Age of Innocence.  It's costume porn for me.  I ooh and ahh over the clothing, and Lady Gaga has given me oodles and oodles of costume porn.  I just swoon and drool over her costumes.  I say costumes, because we know those ensembles are not outfits or knock-about clothes.  She is like a runway and not a ready-to-wear runway.  Her clothes are like fluffy dreams and scary nightmares, and they are just sublime, but with the smoke and mirrors of her costumes, I feel as though I have no idea what her face looks like. 

She's worn facial prosthetics to give herself razor thin cheekbones that could slice slivers of roast beef at a deli, googly cartoonish eyes in her "Bad Romance" video, different skin tones or skin paints rather, contact lenses and then there are sunglasses, hats and wigs that camouflage the face.  All of these bells and whistles make it hard to see the face beneath and know what the real face is. 

I want a picture of Lady Gaga with a bare face with no accouterments.  I need to know what she really looks like in order for her to be a human and not some powerhouse performer that could, for all I know, be an android.  Even though I've seen some pictures that have hinted at what she looks like I'm unconvinced that's the true face, because there aren't other similar pictures to corroborate that she does look like that.  It's the great Gaga Face Conspiracy. 

I Did Five Unassisted Pull-Ups! Kiss it.

Just the other day, I reached my goal of being able to do five unassisted pull-ups. I've got the upper body strength of a weak kitten, so it's taken me a long time to be able to say I can do five pull-ups, which may seem like shit to you, but seems bad ass to me.

My motivation came from a place of fear all because of a horror movie I watched a year ago titled Frozen. Frozen is a nightmarish, horror movie, but there are no monsters, poltergeists, apparitions, demons, or super-human predators instead there is frostbite, wolves, sub-zero temperatures, a blizzard, and three people giving each other his or her last will and testament.

In the movie, two childhood best friends and one buttinsky girlfriend go skiing in New England. They're having an idyllic day on the slopes, but, near the end of their perfect day, a blizzard starts to roll in, and the ski resort begins closing down for precautionary measures. Wanting to get one last run down the mountain, the three convince the life operator to lift them up to the top of the mountain one last time before they have to leave. After coercion, the operator caves and allows them. Then he goes to take a leak, and, while he's away, his co-worker shuts down the lift not knowing that there are skiers riding up the lift. You know where this is headed, right?

They're stuck up there at about 75-100 feet off the ground thinking that there is a mechanical issue. They scream, but nobody comes, and, right about that time, all the lights shut down. That's when the panic starts to set in, and they realize they're going to have to survive a blizzard in a chair lift with no heat source, food, or water. The girlfriend is a stress smoker and immediately begins smoking. As she goes to pull out a another cigarette for the chain, her glove falls, and that ratchets up the intensity a few notches as her boyfriend chooses to drop down to get the glove knowing that she'll need it to protect her skin from frostbite, and he wants to make an attempt at getting help. Well, he falls wrong and breaks his leg. Later, wolves circle him and eat him. The other guy tries to monkey swing from chair lift to chair lift to get to the ground to get help, and this is why I want to be able to do a few pull-ups.

 I figure if I'm in a life or death situation, and I can do at least five pull-ups, prior to the life or deeath event, then I could muster the extra strength to do what I have to do to climb up a tree, swing from limb to limb, climb up a building, etc. to get away from my predator. No, I'm not worried about getting stuck in a chair lift. I'm worried about needing to be able to do a pull-up in a life or death situation.

My Mean Fifth Grade Teacher

Sometimes I want to tell my fifth math grade teacher, Mrs. Wise, I turned into a non-cheating, kind, thoughtful, considerate person. 

She had it out for me from day one, and, no, I'm not imagining this.  It could've been that I got into a physical fight with her son, Brad, who was the same age as me and in my homeroom class.  There was that, and I did beat the shit out of him.  He threw a book at me during Language Arts, it busted my lip, and when I noticed I was bleeding all hell broke loose, and I jumped out of my desk and starting slamming his head on his desktop.  I then took off his glasses and scratched the lenses on the gritty floor.  Everyone is yelling, "Fight, Fight, Fight!"  Talk about rage.  During my childhood, my dad spent a lot of time teaching me how to defend myself, so when I say I can scrap I mean it.  Brad and I got written up and had to go to counseling sessions together with the school counselor, Ms. Scott, who had braces and spit all over you. 

I happen to think Mrs. Wise hated me before I ever fought her son, and that fight only made a bad situation worse.  She loved to accuse me of cheating, and I still haven't gotten over that.  There was one particular time during a fractions test.  I was sitting behind Elizabeth Wright, and I was working hard on my fraction test.  Pencil chewing hard.  Next thing I know, Mrs. Wise calls me out and says something like, "Vicki Williams, are you looking over Elizabeth Wright's shoulder and cheating for test answers?"  She said it really loud, and gave me the shittiest look. The hag called me out in front of all my peers and shamed me.  I didn't know what to say.  I turned red, got hot, and probably meekly said something like, "No, ma'am."  I wasn't cheating, but Mrs. Wise just knew I was cheating, and she made me change seats and sit alone.  I was mortified.  There were two or three other times that she did that, and I haven't forgotten and I never will.

There may be good teachers out there, but there are also those that are just plain mean, and, for me, Mrs. Wise was the meanest teacher I ever had. 

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Riding in the backseat of Brad's car, and, yes, Brad did get his backseat upholstered in a plaid flannel.

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                                                                I am a fighter and
                                                                I ain't gonna stop
                                                           There is no turning back
                                                                 I've had enough

 

 

                                   I love you, Christina Aguilera, with your little 5 feet curvy self.

Riding a Train Wreck

                                                  (Taken from Amtrak Train Window)

Over a year ago, I rode Amtrak from DC to Florence, SC, my hometown, and I can't get all the strange events out of my head.  I'm an eavesdropper, and I'm a bad eavesdropper.  I'm the kind that doesn't just inch in to listen, but also stares, and, if some crazy shit is said, I might jot it down in one of my little notepads just so I don't forget some of the details.  I'm lucky I haven't had my ass beat.  Seems to me though that most people lack self-awareness, and the ones who lack self-awareness are usually the best ones to listen to.  They never know I'm there, so an ass beating doesn't have to be too big of a concern.

This train ride was like Shangrilah for an eavesdropper.

I settle into my seat, and I'm thinking wonder who I'll have to sit beside.  I'm already wanting it to be a quiet person, because my arrival time is something like 3 AM, and I want sleep.  I'm hoping for an old lady who knits and later pulls an afghan over herself to nap.  What I get is a lady wearing a Disney tee shirt with a Grumpy and a Dopey on it that reads "I'm grumpy, because you're dopey."  You can imagine my upset, but I quickly learned that I couldn't have gotten a better seatmate.  I came out the gate all blustery and possessive over my stuff and personal space as to make myself unlikeable. I got the armrest and engaged in more bitchery and stuff.  I was in no mood to be near a talker, and I knew she was one.  You can just tell, you know. 

Grumpy shirt wasted no time chatting it up a with a lady across the aisle. She asked her where she was headed and aisle lady told her she was going to visit her Mom.  Grumpy said she wished she was going to visit her mom, but her mom passed away not too long ago.  Then, she goes on and on, and I'm getting saucer size eyes the more she talks thinking am I really hearing this.  She said that when her mom died they decided to cremate her remains, and the family passes around the remains from house to house, so they can visit with Mama.  Then, she says Mama's favorite place is on top of the TV, because her favorite thing to do is watch TV.  She also shared that her grandkids like to put Mama on top of the TV, so Mama can hear since Mama always asked them to turn up the volume.

About that time, I'm getting thirsty, so I go to the snack car, but not until I pack up all my shit to carry with me.  If you've ever ridden the train, then you know you're likely to get jacked and cut or  robbed.  If you don't believe that shady people are on the train, ride it and find out for yourself, but don't ride it without mace. 

I get to the snack car and get a Snickers and Diet Coke.  The snack bar is a shitty tin can nothing like what you see in those movies from the 40s and 50s.  I sit down at a table, and there's this woman who looks like she's on crack.  She's wearing a belly shirt and skinny jeans; is probably bumping 40 something; has long, stringy jet black hair; blurred tattoos; is skeletor skinny and wobbling like a weeble, but that weeble was going to fall down.  Miss Cracky shouts send two beers to those two guys to her daugher.  The guys are twenty something and fresh, so they take the beers when Miss Cracky's tween daughter with pink hair walks over to them to serve them the beers.  Next thing you know the four are nestled in a booth, and the cutesy family nearby, who is probably riding the train because their little boy loves that Thomas the Tank train engine, snuggles in real close and makes a quick exit.  I leave, because, at that point, I'm just sad about Miss Cracky's daughter and I'm thinking about how life is a lottery.  I'm wanting Grumpy tee shirt to cheer me up, and when I get back to my seat she's there all right sharing more personal dish, and I'm ready with open ears.  I was not disappointed.

Internet Detritus

Suri's Burn Book


Hateful Body Snarking on Gaga From Some Assholes


Ten Shocking Secrets of Flight Attendants. Hint: They Hate Pouring Diet Coke


Everyone Looks Cooler in Sunglasses even Margaret Thatcher

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In keeping with these embarrassing pictures, I included one of my most awkward.  This was taken when I was twelve or thirteen at my best friend's house.  Those glasses. That anorak from Naturally Outdoors, however, was the height of fashion at Moore Middle School.

Minor League Couponer

Every Sunday, I flip through the local newspaper and clip coupons, and this last Sunday was rich in coupons for items that are my essentials.  I try not to use coupons for non-essentials, but it happens from time to time.  My approach to coupons is to try to be utilitarian about them, and not buy an item siimply because I have a coupon.

I had a buy one get one free for an Herbal Essences hair product, so I bought the shampoo and got the conditioner for free, and I was able do the same with a Pantene coupon.  The other coupon was $3.00 off a package of Gillette disposable razors.

I don't know how it happened, but all of this was only $4.84.  I'm starting to think the cashier had to have made a mistake, because I feel like I made out like a bandit.

When I have a good coupon day, it makes me consider becoming an extreme couponer, but I think it takes a lot of smarts to be one.  There's so much strategizing, scheduling, organizing, and mathematics that goes into being able to do it, and I don't have that in me.  You also have to not give a shit about the people who get behind you in the check-out line.  If I made people wait that long, I'd start to sweat and profusely apologize to everyone behind me being inconvenienced.  Then I'd have to pop an anxiety pill midway through the ringing up, and I'd get home and ask Brad over and over, "Do you think that was rude of me, you know, to make those people wait, so I could get 100 packs of orange tic tacs for 50 cents?"

Those of us who get behind extreme couponers get punished. You'd think they'd say something like, "I see you only have a few items.  Would you like to go ahead of me?" or even "Here have a free roll of toilet paper for having to wait."  They don't though.  Oh, and never make the mistake of going to Harris Teeter on double coupon night.  Not only are there women pushing two carts and flipping through binders of coupons, there's also their dickering with cashiers making certain that they don't get screwed on their coupons, and the constant beep, beep, beep, of the thousands of items getting scanned.  I can hear it in my head.  It starts to make me feel the same way the Grinch does about all the noisy toys in Whoville on Christmas Day.

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This is my 9th grade ID card.  Am I looking happy or what?  Not so much.  Found this when I found the 4th grade ID.

Honey Boo Boo Gets Purdy and Plays Bingo

This Wednesday's episode of Honey Boo Boo was a mixed bag, but a mixed bag of nothing but goodies.

To save some money, which is June's favorite pastime, June and the girls went to visit Honey Boo Boo's make-up artist in order for June to learn how to do Honey Boo Boo's pageant make-up, so she wouldn't have to fork over the money for make-up applications every pageant.  Well, June's eyes aren't too good and her sausage fingers couldn't hold the brushes and applicators, and she ended up, as Honey Boo Boo said, squishing what looked like a marshmallow into Honey Boo Boo's eyelid and drawing on a crooked eyebrow.  Honey Boo Boo looked like a melting Tammy Faye.  At the end of the make-up application, Honey Boo Boo hollered, "I look like I just got off the street from walking!"  I know a six year old shouldn't know about street walkers, but is that really all that bad considering she has three older sisters who I'm sure don't filter their mouths?

Next the family goes to Bingo at the local VFW with the hope of winning some mad cash to fund Honey Boo Boo's pageants.  They walk away without any winnings, but we do learn that Bingo is June's favorite sport and that she likes it so much because it's a "spur of the moment" sport.  Later, the asshole-ish, uppity cameramen ask Honey Boo Boo to spell Bingo.  Whew weee.  It went some like this. . . B-I-N-G (wait for it, wait for it, wait for it, some more silence) O.  I was sweating that one.  I needed her to spell it right so so so so bad.

Later Honey Boo Boo gets to meet Ms. Georgia 2011 for tips on how to make improvements to her stage presence and to get some advice on how to reach her goals.  Honey Boo Boo, June, and Miss Georgia go to a bakery for a dessert, and Honey Boo Boo eats two slices of cake, spits some cake on Miss Georgia, and farts at the table.  Miss Georgia, talk about boring, she didn't even laugh.  Come on!  Honey Boo Boo later said she didn't think Miss Georgia ever farted.  No, Honey Boo Boo, that's not it.  Some people just don't have a sense of humor, and act like they'd never do something so uncouth.  As a gift, Miss Georgia gave Honey Boo Boo a signed photograph, and Honey Boo Boo looks at the picture of Miss Georgia and goes, "Who's that pretty lady?"  She didn't even know that photoshopped person in the photograph was the one sitting across the table from her. I loved it!

My favorite moment of this past Wednesday's episode was when Honey Boo Boo was looking at herself in a hand mirror while rocking in a lazy chair and eating a Little Debbie cake.  She says to her mirror self, "I'm relaxing, eating, and having a great time."  Oh, I just loved that moment.  Those are my favorite moments too, Honey Boo Boo.

The Great Cash and Stairs Misadventure

 

My poor, sweet dog has developed a fear of stairs also know as Bathmophobia.  He bounds up the stairs not thinking about how he is going to have to go down or it could be that, in the moment, he's unconcerned with the getting down the stairs part. 

 

When Brad is away I don't stay in the garage apartment. I choose to stay in the house.  In the morning, Schroeder and Cash come upstairs to get me out of bed for a potty and a play.  Schroeder runs up and down with ease.  Cash, on the other hand, stalls when it's time to go downstairs for his morning constitution.  He looks at me with eyes screaming, "Mommy, ummm, get me down."  I can't pick him up.  He weighs 92 pounds.  I've tried treats even hot dog weenies, getting Schroeder to push him down the stairs, putting his leash and harness on him and giving him a mighty tug.  He doesn't budge, and he cries, mournful, I'm in pain cries.  Then it makes me anxious, upset, and I yank at my hair in frustration and exhaustion.  This went on for an hour yesterday until my dad came home to pick him up and get him down.

 

Today, the same the thing happened, and I was going on an hour of begging and coaxing my scared dog.  It's so much worse when a big dog is afraid.  I called my dad to see when he was getting home, but he didn't answer, so I took matters into my own hands, and started brainstorming about alternative ways to get him down.  I decided it could be a traction issue, so I draped a bath towel down the first six stairs, and he came.  At the sixth step, he had too much momentum going to turn back, and he came down.  Problem solved.  He was rewarded with a hard, tongue hanging out play.

 

Sheena, this was going on the whole time we were texting today. 

 

 

 

Looking at his leash saying, "What?  That's not going to work, lady."

 

 

 

 

 

Here's his despondent I'll just lean on the banister and watch you have a good time.

 

 

 

 

 

 The look that breaks my heart.

 

 

 

Me anxious, upset, and tired wondering how the hell I'm going to get this 92 pound, fluff dog downstairs.

My Love-Hate Relationship with Katy Perry, Zooey Deschanel, Hello Kitty, and Being a Woman Child

I grew up with Hello Kitty and her fellow characters-Keroppi, Kiki & Lala, Pochacoco, Chococat, and more-so I have a soft spot for Hello Kitty and her entourage.  There was my pencil box, a tiny little bubble gum machine, tin storage box, mirrored compact, wallet, hairbrush and other Hello Kitty items that were purchased with my allowance at the local toy shop.

Just the other day, I bought a Hello Kitty notebook from Target, and I'm writing all these adult notes in it, and I'm thinking about how 20 or more years ago I would've been playing MASH in this notebook and writing "I Love Whomever" with hearts around it.  Then, I'm thinking how I love this notebook, but maybe I shouldn't have bought it seeing as how I'm 32, and, of course, I'm thinking, well, I don't give a shit what others think.  Maybe I should though.  It's the whole Peter Pan conundrum all over again.

At that point, I start thinking about how Zooey Deschanel probably has a closet full of Hello Kitty notepads, and, if she has a Hello Kitty arsenal, it's okay that I do too, right?  But Zooey Deschanel wears those abominable baby doll dresses and looks like she should be stuffed in a toy box or doll house.  Then there's her doppelganger, Katy Perry.  Katy Perry wears my favorite candies and there's her cupcake bra, which you can buy a replica of at Etsy. Katy Perry is my favorite walking scratch and sniff sticker; however, I don't want to be a strawberry scented scratch and sniff sticker.  Or do I?  I have enough little girl stickers to cover my entire body. 

I know that my girlie kid likes are a cultural trend that's taking over the country.  I'm not alone.  There are girls like me all over the place (notice that I still refer to myself as a girl) buying Hello Kitty notebooks.  Look at all the headbands, bows, polka dots, and gathered baby doll skirts blowing up the fashion scene right now.  Then there are the outrageous nail polish colors out there that are less than sophisticated like glitter, crackled paint, Malibu Barbie pink, patterns, and neons.  Make-up is headed in this direction too with eyeshadow colors like neon orange, blue, and yellow.  There's also the fake eye lashes some even have crystals at the base.  Mac has always carried art cosmetics, but, come on, Loreal, not you. 

I read arguments saying this trend is a cultural response to the economic downturn and that it allows women to experience the comforts of their childhood in a time of uncertainty, but I don't think that's it at least not completely.  This was starting to happen before the economic downturn.  I have the childish tee shirts to prove it. I think it has a little something to do with botox, vanity visits to dermatologists, wrinkle creams, and the desire to turn back the clock.  We've started to turn the clock way back too all the way back to elementary school and before adolescence when we had dewier skin that hadn't been pimpled and then later crinkled at the eyes.  There's the turning the clock back and there's also the nostalgia factor too. 

I still haven't figured out how and why I became a woman child, and I'm still uncertain whether I'll change my ways.  I do know that when I'm around a woman my age who is dressed smartly in quality, expensive heels that make her calves go pop, a dress that makes her look feminine but tough, is wearing lipstick NOT lip gloss, and has polished hair, I feel a little silly in her commanding presence, but I don't seem to care enough to change. 

The other side of this that is comical too is that there's been the man child label around for years now with the man child going around playing Halo, never getting a real job, and not knowing how to make a meal that isn't Ramen noodles or cereal, change oil in a car, check tire pressure, and much less repair the broken toilet.  Seems that with the woman child around now there ought to be a lot of happy marriages between the woman child and the man child, but I read the other day that the number of people getting married is way down from where it once was not too long ago.  Again, a way to postpone adulthood and responsibility.  

What is certain is that this female cultural trend is perpetuated by corporate America capitalizing off of the woman child, and I don't think this phenomenon is going to change any time soon.

Proof:  Below are two coveted items from my childhood Hello Kitty collection.  For a while, I was putting headache medicine in the Pippo container, and, from time to time, I still carry around the Pochacco mirror compact.

 

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Schroeder on his back in the garage apartment looking like a crazy wombat. 

Product Review: Stila Fiesta Lip Glaze Trio

 

 

 

 

This is Stila's Fiesta Lip Glaze Trio, and it costs around $10 or $12.  Right now it's on sale at Sephora for $8.  I'm really loving this product right now for a few reasons. 

 

First, it's really cheap considering that it's Stila, and, despite these lip glosses being miniature size, there's a considerable amount in each tube. I've been using these about every day for a few months, and I still haven't emptied a tube.

 

Second, I love a brush lipgloss rather than a sponge lipgloss.  Stila has a clear nylon bristled brush, and it operates a lot like a mechanical pencil.  You twist the bottom to push the lip gloss onto the brush. 

 

Third, you know how there's always that one shade you don't like when you buy a set of something, well, that won't happen with this set.  The shades are fantastic.  There's a nude, a pale pink, and a  brighter pink.  All shades look natural.

 

The one drawback is that you're going to have to reapply this lipgloss after about two hours or you can do like me and just not care enough to reapply.

 

 





Sophisticate that Pony Tail. Jennifer Aniston Did.

(Ignore those two girls in bottom corner)

I was in a boutique here in Florence owned by the height of bitchiness.  That is a post unto itself that I'm going to get around to writing, because I'm still hot around the collar over her twattiness.  Per usual, I was at the register and made an impulse buy.  I really hate impulse buys, but there seems to be nothing I can do about it.  There was a bowl of these elastic ribbon ties and beside the bowl there was a picture of the bouncy Jennifer Aniston with her gorgeous hair bound in a messy pony tail with one of these ties.  Must Buy!  I'm in love with these things.  They aren't easy to come by either.

I searched over Target and at drugstores, and all I came up with were pastels and neons with polka dots.  I draw the line there.  I will not have the same hairstyle as the kid who lives across the street from me.  I already did that once with my Suri Cruise bob haircut.  I wanted solid, muted colors, because I wanted to sophisticate that pony.  I eventually came across these ties at Ulta.  The brand I purchased is called Tony Tie.  It was a card package of three in three different colors-black, off-white, and leopard.  It was a reasonable price somewhere hovering around $7, and you may think that is too much, and, if you do, good in fact great, because I don't want you flooding the scene with my new find.

One of the things about these ties is that they are not going to harm your hair in the way an elastic band does, so that's a major added bonus for me since my baby fine hair is prone to breakage the longer it gets, and elastic bands are infamous for breaking hair.

I give my new beauty find 5 out of 5 stars on all points-cost, quality, usefulness, and style.

I Don't Feel Sorry for Kate Middleton or Her Boobs

Kate Middleton (or the new Diana) was on vacation, like her life isn't a vacation everyday, in Provence laying out on the rooftop of her expansive, private villa, and she went topless.  IDIOT.  What a stupid, stupid, stupid person.  Now the Duchess of Cambridge and her princey husband have their undies wadded tighter up their arses than they already did before, and they're suing or threatening to sue the tabloids who've published these photos or those who are going to publish these photos. The topless photos have already been published in Ireland, France, and Italy, and are likely to make their way around the globe be it through print or the Internet.  As if her boobs are that great. 

So you think this is an invasion of your privacy, Her Highness?  You gave up your privacy the day you married a prince.  Duh!  I really do believe that she should just eat it, let it go, and not make the same mistake in the future. 

Why didn't she think about the sneaky paparazzi, and why didn't she think about Duchess Sarah Ferguson's scandalous poolside topless photos from 1992?  Maybe she could use this event to get the rest of us outside of Europe to go topless.  Bikinis would be cheaper.  There is that.  New York is headed in that direction with its Go Topless Day .  Maybe all we need is Kate Middleton to tell us yea, that's okay.

My advice to Kate is to only run around topless with the shades drawn.  Get your freak on behind closed doors.  It's a small sacrifice to make on the way to becoming queen of whatever one day.