Gone Croatan

Nice, I posted this days ago and never checked back.  Sadly, I'd posted it using Safari which hates me.  So, back with Firefox, which crashes, to try again.

I've moved house to the wordpress site.

Squid Ink, take two

don't be skeered

Like I'm one to talk.  Anyway.  We here at Squid Ink will be making a move soon.  Please to check out my current top options.  Weigh in with aesthetic concerns, experience with either blog-hosting site.

Six Gables

Squid Ink

Fun with Food!

Inspired by someone--an imaginary friend, I think?  (Whoever you were, sorry I forgot your contribution) We've started having a Cuisine of the Week.  Each week, we will have the foods of a different land.  Because on Monday I had to go to a meeting and needed to just throw some spaghetti on the table, we started with Italy.  I drew a map of Italy, showing the different regions and each night I've written the food we've had on the region from which it has come.  So Monday was plain ol' sketti with red sauce.  Thought to have originated in the central regions.  Tuesday night,  we had a broccoli and cheese risotto (northern Italy) and a tasty lentil dish I can no longer locate online. Lentil dishes were popularized by Roman Jews.  Wednesday night was parmesan polenta from Vento and a Tuscan Bean dish that was aMAZing for lunch two days later.  Thursday was a meeting day, too so we had pizza--Campania! (I know, American pizza is not Italian pizza.  But I was busy).  Tonight we had Sardinian hard boiled eggs (yum) and Pasta a la Norma from Sicily.  Also yum.  Tomorrow will be Gnocchi (Calabria region) al Pesto (Genova).  Next week we're only here two days.  I think we'll do two days of British food and then flee to a Thanksgiving feast.  Just like the Pilgrims.

ETA:  Yes, this does make me a cooler mom than you.  But you can do it too!  And the best thing is my kids are so much more willing to try new food this way.  Just like with Cheese Night.  On an ordinary night, if I'd said, "It's pasta with eggplant!" they'd have looked at me like I had utterly lost my mind.  But when I say "Pasta al a Norma is from Sicily, this little island that it appears that the boot is kicking!"  They're all "mmm, this is really good!"  Now, I wasn't able to get my non bean-eaters to eat beans or lentils, but they at least are trying the stuff and are game.  So lets see where this goes, shall we?

Well, it amuses me anyway

I'm aware that my seasonal tally of catalogs is tiresome to some.  But it does kind of boggle my mind just how many are out there, looking for ME.  And how they seem to have no idea who I am.

Yesterday:

The Company Store--linens.  so why that name that conjures up being unable to leave a job that is crushing your soul b/c you owe so much to the company store.  Is this a positive association to people?  And they also have "Company Kids" which is just too sad to contemplate.

Plow and Hearth--assorted crap.  page 3 has fleece socks.  Page 19 has chocolate hedgehogs (at long last!).  Page 40 has curtains.  53 has fireplace screens (HEARTH!),  page 66 has twee garden decor (PLOW!). page 71 has sleds.  So  little rhyme or reason. Polar fleece and plaid seem to be the unifying elements.

Eddie Bauer--You're too old for J. Crew.  Enjoy.

Duluth Pack--new one!  Rugged bags for rugged individuals.  The ones pictured in all my other catalogs, but residing not beneath my roof.

Catalog for Philanthropy--  yeeeah.  Oh, it's just a list of small charities, in case money is burning a hole in my pocket.  So that it can escape.

American Science and Surplus--best catalog since the old Archie McPhee changed over to glossy and lame.  www.sciplus.com  Enjoy!  Surely you need an inflatable moose head?

Brookstone--expensive crap you give to people you know nothing about.

Today's haul:

Herrington "The Enthusiast's Catalog"--never heard of it.  Enthusiasts of what, exactly?  According to the cover, clogs and watches.  Seriously weird catalog.  Bamboo towels, Merrell clogs, Masai warrior shoes, NASCAR hawaiian style shirts, Johnny Carson DVDs, puzzles...all I can figure is that it's for fogies.  that's the only common theme I can find.  Weird.

Sharper Image-- "I really have no taste and no interest in the recipients of my gifts.  All I care is that it be CLEAR that I spent a lot of money."

PBS Home Video--Because BBCAmerica can't run EVERY show ever shown in England.

2 identical copies of Sierra Trading Post--In case I mislaid the one from Monday.

Big ass Sears WishBook sized Land's End catalog--yeah, I only buy on clearance, and on-line, so save the tree, folks.

LLBean--see above

And oooo, bestfor last, The Noble Collection--It has this super complicated statue of Dumbledore on the front.  And a Lord of the Rings chess set on the back (hows THAT for a perfect convergence of nerdiness?)  I can't quite decide which irony I prefer--the fact that you can order The ONE Ring in silver or gold and there are, presumably, several for sale or the Spartan shield money clip.  You decide.

Geez, people...

It wasn't a HUGE difference from the last cut, but here I am, being fierce and rocking my pajamas:



But I can't believe Tash would say " Also, this summer, I accidentally turned my hair purple" and then complain that *I* had not photo to show.  Nigga pleez.

Fabulous Hair for Less

I've had quite the range of hair cut experiences.  from cutting my own or going to Steve's barber, all the way up to my last cut at the hands of Sam "Ed Scissorhands" Wong. Today, I ventured into the world of the beauty school.  It's my dirty little secret that I'd kind of love to be a hairdresser, but couldn't handle people flipping out on me.  So I was kind of psyched to visit The Temple, a Paul Mitchell beauty school.  It's in the old Masonic Lodge in downtown Frederick.  (Steve and I used to imagine how cool it would be to buy it and live in it.  It has something like 100k sq ft.  We decided that less than 2k is so much cozier.)  I'd had a couple of friends get cut there with good results and it's only 12 bucks, so hey!  It's only hair, right?  eek.

When I first arrived, I had to sign a release stating that I realize that this is a school, that the stylists are students.  They'll fix what goes wrong if they can, but you won't just get free color if you aren't happy.  So I signed away.  At the same time I was there, there was a mom and dad and 4 kids, two of them identical twin boys.  The oldest was a girl, about 7, 8 at the most.  She was discussing with her mom whether she could get color AND highlights or just highlights.  "No, we did that last time," said mom, "you have a good natural color now, so just do highlights."  oooookay.  And these weren't pageant parents, these were tattooed-and-pierced-and Harley be-buckled parents.  She was chomping her gum with her mouth open and swinging her feet and discussing her hair color.  It was cheezing me off.

Amanda came and rescued me and took me to her station.  She asked what I wanted in a cut and suggested I could get a partial highlight just to touch up my roots.  I agreed b/c it's only $27!  Then Thiery, her "learning leader" ("that's what they make us call teachers," she told me with an eyeroll) came over to see what her plan was. At first I thought, "Hooray!  a professional!" but by the end, I wanted to shoo Thiery away when he came by.   Leave my Amanda alone. They talked color and lifted my hair and matched it with stuff in a book and carried on.  I totally lovedfeeling like a wigstand on Shear Genius (bring it back, Bravo!!).  while she was foiling me (curses!), I was checking out the scene.

There was a clump of students around an older woman who had just come back from some classes in Florida about up-dos.  ("I've got to go to Florida next week.  Up-do classes."  fabulous)  She was using a student to demonstrate and nearly ripping the hair from her head.  I was reminded of those times on the band bus when the black girls would offer to french braid our hair.  They pulled like CRAZY and then told us that white girls were a bunch of babies.  Reparations have been met, my friends.  We paid in white girl scalp.  I commented to Amanda and she said, "Yeah, up-dos hurt.  If it's a good one, anyway.  If you want it to stay up all night, it has to hurt."  So consider yourselves warned.  In another corner, some girls were watching a student giving another student a hand massage.  Some others were practicing make-up.  It looked so FUN.  And knowing that there was surely lingo and in-jokes was just making my grad student senses tingle.  I need to infiltrate their culture!  Study and learn!  And pull hair!

Next to me was a black girl of about 10 who was getting her hair straightened.  It took forEVER.  And it looked better natural.  I wanted to sit her down and empower her, steer her from the Tyra path.  Beauty School Liberator!  Clearly, I'd gotten giddy.  When my 45 min processing was over, Amanda started my cut.  She didn't cut each hair individually, but neither did she karate chop my skull, so I consider that a wash.  And yes, I see the irony of telling the black child not to straighten and then turning right around and having my hair dyed a different color.  So stop being so damned smug.  You just wish YOU could pull off blonde, so neener.   While she was cutting, I grilled Amanda on the experience.   I thought that people who'd come to a school would likely be laid back about their hair, but NO, no, they flip out and get annoyed and then act surprised to learn that a student was cutting.  You sign a damned release, people.  Did you do that at MasterCuts?   She said that the management has had to toss people out.  Which cemented my decision not to suddenly go to beauty school.  Because I was darned close.  ANYway, the color looked great, the cut was very nice, the overall experience fun if lengthy.  I was there 2 hours and 45 min. Cost $39, no tipping allowed.  Woo! 

on aging bodies...

First, a fashion question:  What is up with the size 16 pants with a 34 inch inseam?  Where are all these enormous women?  I realize that Target comes out of Minnesota and they grow 'em big up there, but it's been nationwide long enough.  It's time to realize that most size 16s are not there because they're so very tall.  They're there because they like cookies.  Way to make us feel dumpy as well as fat.  Thanks!

Went to the doc today for hip pain.  I see a nurse practitioner, usually.  I called the office for the appt.  "Who do you see?"  "Elaine."  "Elaine hasn't worked here in over a year."  "Oh, um, whoever replaced Elaine?"  "Well, SHE's out on maternity leave."  "Okay, could I just have someone with qualified medical credentials?"  "I've got a spot with Emily, she's a Physician's Assistant."  So I saw Emily and she's about 15.  And not so much with the eye contact.  so I'm feeling really confident about her.  She thinks I have arthritis and sent me for an xray.  I also discovered that I weigh about 20 lbs more than I thought I did.  I'm at a 3rd trimester weight.  Which would explain those big ol' pants at Target.  I'm not really eating any differently.  "Oh, you're just getting older."  Yeah, I'm not Bea Arthur yet, fetus, so put your little Fisher Price stethoscope up yer pert little bum.  I want a second opinion.

ANTM blather.

We had a week off for a clip show.  We learned there that Bianca can walk full-on into a glass wall and that Jenah never really had the gift of styling her own hair, even before the stank ass weave.  So, this show starts with Sarah getting the loser edit.  We shall see... then off to the hot tub/pool, where Bianca talks about Heather as if she is not there.  But she is.  Bianca seems bitter that Heather just shows up and takes a gorgeous pic without trying.  Wah, no fair!  She cries, like one of my damned kids.  Heather, who is getting better with the eye contact b/c really, you cannot give the hairy eyeball without it and that girl NEEDS the hairy eyeball, points out that she thinks about how the photo is going to look and tries to create art with her body.  The other girls try to gently call Bianca on her stank attitude without turning it on themselves.  Bianca’s eyes roll around in her head like a quarter in one of those things where you drop a quarter down that big funnel and it goes round and round and round,  How’s THAT for a poetic metaphor?  

For todays lesson/ challenge, the girls head off to a studio where they put on flesh colored leotards and character shoes.  Tyra shows up and gives a modified version of Debbie Allen’s Fame speech.  Then she kind of mimes what she’s saying about learning how to move in a sexy way...it looks like learning impaired sign language.  She’s quite masterful.  And TOTALLY out of breath.  Her speech seems to have winded her and she’s gasping out the words as she teaches them a runway walk.  I cannot believe she lets this stuff air.  She teaches them angry sexy stomp and then coy flirty model and then model sliding down the wall.  Many of the girls (heather!) look more like they’ve been shot and are sliding down.  But really, they all look so weird in these body stockings that it’s hard to think of anything else.  They look like fingers.  Remember those gloves that had a face with hair and a hat on each finger?  Like that.  Without hats.  She teaches them to crawl sexily.  No, no she doesn’t.  She SAYS she does, but really it’s just odd.  And when Heather does it, it’s a little scary.  As Bianca rightly points out (oh no, I’m agreeing with Bianca!), Heather can do no wrong.  Tyra actually says that Heather has a “Tim Burtonesque sexuality.”  Seriously?  Like...Ed Wood?  I mean, because then I’m left with various scary but awesome Johnny Depp personas.

So then they’re off to shoot an Enrique Inglesias video.  He’s wicked cute, let’s just put that out there.  Lisa and Heather are chosen for featured roles.  Bianca is chosen to bitch about it.  I must say, Chantal’s belief in her “natural modeling ability” is quite touching.  She is, in fact, very pretty.  But her modeling hasn’t been all that impressive.  But she commits to rock her strips of latex in this video.  She fails, of course.  As one always does when one tells the camera that one is a natural talent.  Newton’s first law of hubris.  Elementary, really.  She’s been getting the Other Girl in the Bottom Two edit, btw.  I’m calling it here, Sarah and Chantal.  Sarah goes home.  Okay, continue.  

The big drama that we were previewed--the required by the FCC once a season medical emergency--was that Heather, who hadn’t eaten in 12 hours, gave out in the knees.  Snore. A real model can go MONTHS on nothing but cocaine and champagne. She did look hellish, but hey, that’s part of her Tim Burtonesque sexy, right?

Heading to panel, Chantal assures us that she will be in the bottom two.  By which I mean she assures us that she is in no danger at all.  But in panel, Nigel tells Sarah that she is “disappearing in front of us.”  That, my friends, is the death knell.  You can’t come back from that.  8 girls, 7 photos.  Tyra calls Lisa, Heather, Saleisha, Bianca, Ambreal, Jenah...and YES!  Who knows the editing? Sarah and Chantal are the bottom two.  Sarah--who, we are reminded, pulled a long paper booger out of her nose at casting--goes home to work out whether to be a plus sized model or a minus sized model.  Next week!  Nekkid Heather goes nutzoid!

It almost smells like gingerbread...

 Ah, Christmas time must be near because my mailbox is about to snap under the weight of the catalogs.  Today I got:

Garnet Hill (clothes I would love to buy if I were rich and thin instead of the opposite of those things)

Smith+noble (for people who dedicate a lot of thought to window "treatments."  I am not that gal.)

Metropolitan Museum of Art Store (for people unaware that you can buy all of the stuff in this catalog in other catalogs for a lot less money.  But it wouldn't be from the Met.)

Sierra Woman Traditions (one of many, many catalogs that Sierra Trading piles on me.  My job doesn't involve leaving the house, so I don't even open this one)

The Country House (why on EARTH am I getting this one?  What mailing list am I on that suggests that I would love to store my toilet brush in a replica of an outhouse?)

Woolrich (they have a catalog?  I don't own a yellow lab, so I don't open this one, either)

Constructive Playthings (cheap toys with many pieces.  Right into the ol' paper bin with this one)

Oriental Trading Beads (must. not. open. Must. Be. Strong!)

Land's End Men (Steve's not needing a whole lot of ties right now)

Beautyhabit Modern Lux Apothecary essentials (yeeeah.  I have no idea)

and, from the "friends of public radio," the Pretty Good Goods catalog (title tells you all you need to know.  could be called Twee Things.  Or Things that Make You Say "Oh, ho!  Now THAT is a clever oven mitt!")

Okay, that's all I have to say right now.  I have to put on my back brace and haul this lot to the recycling bin...

ETA:  Oh STOP it.  I accidentally looked into the prettygood goods catalog.  I expected the handblown glass ornaments of dogs, which can be labs, goldens, westies, or corgis (seriously), but THIS?

What time is it? It’s always now. Live in the moment and celebrate that fact with a “watch” devoid of hands, quartz movement, or day-date window. Instead, the face is an etched pebble, and the “jewels” are simply the sands of time

Oh, and it costs $50. 

That makes me want to punch somebody.

Cats! Dogs! New York! LA!

Halloween brings out one of those great cats vs dogs moments.   Dogs in costume say, "Am I a good dog now?"


Cats in costume say "I will kill you."



Guinea pigs in costume say "wheep?"

Oh Canada!

Project Runway fans:  You must go watch PR Canada.  The guys at projectrunway.blogspot.com have links to the show.  It is at least as good as the American version.  It only lacks dear Tim.  In place of Heidi, who distracts me with her loveliness (seriously, when she's on screen, all I can think is "it's not FAIR."), we have Iman.  Iman hates you.  She hates your design.  You should lick the sole of her shoe. No, wait, she does not want your untalented spit on her expensive pumps.  Get back, dog!  She scares the crap out of me.  I'm thinking of launching a "Save David Bowie" campaign.  I think she has him in a trunk wearing a ball gag.  But maybe he goes for that, who knows?  In addition to her, the Slice.ca website has blogs for each designer.  And they are not all nicey-nice, my friend. Sample Carlie:

They picked the worst collection on the stage to win. A collection of three outfits that in the most boring color palette. Diaper-like bubble skirts walking down the fucking runway. Those skirts were in fashion years ago, so to sit there and see the judges pick a collection that looked like that and was supposed to be innovative for Spring 2008 is a joke. Not to mention that the theme of military romantics has been done over and over again; I could vomit. Maybe the judges are too old fashioned to recognize true innovation when they see it.

So yeah.  A good read.


But I have a question...what is UP with Canadian hair?  We have facial hair problems, as in their notTim and his porn star look:



And then one of the judges is sporting the Lionel Ritchie:



Not to mention the regular hair troubles (mange?) that plauge designer Biddel:



You can't even see the weird crop circles that are on the sides of his head, bless his heart.  I'm thinking the Shear Genius crew has it's next assignment...

But get over there!  Watch!  Enjoy!

Happy Hallowe'en!

Ah, Halloween.  One of the primary reasons to bother having children.  Adult-only Halloween activities are creepy.  There's a seediness about them, a desperation.  Costumes seem to fall into three categories:  Sexy (devil with push-up bra), Gruesome (I think you know), and needlessly clever ("I'm a Freudian slip!  Get it?").  I understand and accept that this is the sort of activity societies always have, a loosening of social mores, an exploration of other identities, blah blah, where's my degree? but I still find them a bit oogy.  I prefer a Halloween with joyousness and silliness and it's easier to pull that off if you're entertaining kids.

I worked the car line today in my kitty hat and kitty tail :


The little kids loved it.  The middle schoolers thought it was funny.  The upper elementary kids could not BELIEVE I was such a dork.  They're the ones I said "meow!" to and chased with hairballs.  I told Julianna this morning that it was a really warm hat and maybe I'd just wear it as a winter hat.  Sadly, she doesn't embarrass easily yet.  But wait.   I will get revenge for all the times I carried a screaming child out of a store.  For the times I had to cover for "Mommy, why is that lady so fat?" For catching vomit in my hands.  Oh yes, revenge will be mine.

So this afternoon will be filled with hair and costuming, I imagine, since Julianna wants little knobs all over her head, sprayed purple.  Dani is coming home with her and I'll have to do her hair as well.  Lily wants silver hair.  Ben...Ben still has not settled on a costume.  The house looks great, if not a whole lot different from last year.  Which, apparently, I never blogged....Hm...Well, it looked like this last year:


and isn't a whole lot different today.  Those dia de los Muertos banners on the rail are now over the windows.  And there are lots of day of the dead skulls on strings hanging down.  We also have lots of red lights lining the walk this year, too.  It all looks bright and festive with our bright and festive house.  It pleases me. 

Even I'M tired of them

This last episode of ANTM wasn't really worth the full blog.  So I'll just make a couple of observations...

First, the horrible hair.  You know what these weaves look like?  Old Barbie hair.  Ebony and Jenah were having some stilted conversation and they both looked like Barbies that had been played with in the tub and then left to dry under the sink.


And now, word about Sarah.  Since I started watching this show, I have the occasional ANTM dream.  I’m in the cast, I’ve made it to, say, the top 8 or so.  I can’t believe it, I don’t know how I’ve made it b/c, let’s face it, I’m 40 years old and a size 16.  And I’ve had 3 kids.  But still they seem to like me. I’m under no illusion that I’ll win, but I’m doing okay.  That is Sarah.  What is she doing there? She’s pretty, okay, but she’s not stunning.  Her body is way to humanoid.  Yet, she remains.  She’s okay.  I doubt she’ll be there long, though. 
This week brought us an ANTM first!  It comes down to Ebony and Ambreal.  For reasons known only to Tyra’s spies who told her that Ebony has been saying she’d like to go home, Ebony gets a picture, which would send Ambreal home.  But Ebony says, “I want to go home”  And Tyra give her the “I hate a quitter so yeah, you can go” like Ebony had gravely disappointed her, but really?  It seems that Ebony really thought she wanted to be a model.  And then it turned out she didn’t like it.  So why the hating?  But Ambreal is not hating, she is thanking god, who apparently has a long straight wig and a tendency to chew on her lip.  I’m thinking that next week, it will be Sarah or Ambreal who goes home.  The week after will be which ever of those two is left.  Then Lisa or Chantal.  Then the other of those two.  Our final three will be Heather, Jenah, and either Bianca or Saleisha.  That could go either way at this point.  They really kind of owe Saleisha for that horrid hair cut.

X takes the square!

I think I want to be played by Paul Lynde in the movie of me.  Will it be a problem that he's dead?  I've always wanted to be the fun gay uncle.  I try to live that out down at Bev's.  I give NYC obsessed Molly tips on theater and fashion.  I gave Blair a drink of my cocktail when she begged ("Oh my gosh!  Blech!!!).  And I taught them how to say "Do you have a pencil?" in Latin.  Or so I thought.   My high school buddies that took Latin all said the classroom joke was to say Hab este penis? to Tali Johnson b/c she'd turn bright red.  And that it just meant "do you have a pencil?" or something similar.  But just now I went to a Latin translator and it was nothing of the sort.  So it turns out I'm the fun gay uncle that lies.  Which makes me even cooler, right?   Jerry is going to get a restraining order though.  First I taught them about the humor that lies within Uranus (snicker) and now this.  So, Latin scholars, help me out. Amy?

Isn't that one of your dad's friends?

One of my favorite old Emo Phillips gags goes a little like this:  I was walking in the park last week and I saw Billy, from my first grade class. I hadn't seen him since first grade and I ran over to him, shouting "BILLY!" and I clapped him on the back.  This knocked him down and he began to cry.  And then I realized, Billy would have grown up too.


Sometimes I forget that people who were cool young grownups when I was in college are now...old.  God help us, this is Morrissey (thanks to Pink is the New Blog):



Words (almost) fail me.  I was still picturing this guy:



(I tried to find this pic of him in a sheer, tight fitting top, touching his own nipples, but that's just not a Google search I can face).  But I imagine he's had the same 20 years that I have, eh?  Doesn't he totally look like he's about to yell at you, drunkenly, for denting the car?  I can smell the whiskey on his breath.  I imagine he starts to sound like a nasty version of the Lucky Charms leprechaun..."Oh aye, meat IS murrrder but there's no meat in ale, lassie!"  Oops, made him Scottish.  That's just where my head is now, I guess. Can't even do accents on the computer.  I can't quite convey how stunning I found these pictures.  I knew he was still performing.  And obviously people do age, but DAMN.  I just never really thought about it. 

Does he still do the poor waif routine?  Does this paunchy old dude really sing the same maudlin songs he sang at 25?  Because while it might have been a little bit cute then, it wouldn't be now.  If he's still singing Unlovable, well, it's time for meds.

"Last night I dreamt, somebody loved me....and left me some Cheez-its!"

Tags: rode hard and put up wet

largely model free

I realize that I haven't produced anything non-model related in some time.  I apologize for being to busy living my life to stop and tell you people about it.  Right.  Like I'm not sitting here reading lolsecrets and Mimi Smartypants.

So....what's new?  I actually got some sewing done.  I made one drop off at the store and never went back.  I have no idea if anything is selling or anything.  Here's my crap!  Later suckers!  So I made a couple of pillows out of cashmere sweaters that I found at the thrift (and that neither Julianna nor I could wear).  I'm making some Christmas throw pillows for people so very full of the season that the very pillows on the couch must reflect their joy.  I hope to get some aprons done...I found these really cute old aprons with fruit appliqued on them--brand new at Goodwill. I bought five of them.  I can't really just slap my tag on them and trot them in, so I need to scheme out a way to make them originals rather than just resale deadstock.  Or maybe I'll just make the tag really nice.  There's a store downtown that has expressed interest in my aprons and I really, really need to get in there.  Soon.   The laziness...it is so strong.

The Halloween count-down has commenced.  The girls are going to be "punks" along with Bev's girls.  It is very strange to have your child dress up as your childhood.  It must have been like this for my mom when I became obsessed with poodle skirts and pony tails.  Really kid?  Oookay.  The girls are kind of blurring the lines between 70s punk, 80s new wave, and 90s riot grrrl.  But eh, it's Halloween.  Plaid skirt, ripped up leggings with safety pins in and you're gold.  Ben is planning on being a Pokemon trainer.  As far as I can tell, they look like normal people but with odd hair and giant eyes.  So he's all set.

I'm currently reading the second "Outlander" book "Dragonfly in Amber."  They're juuuust this side of bodice rippers.  Just enough history to make you feel like you're learning something when you aren't imagining how very cute Jaimie must be.  Fans of men in kilts, you must get these.  You'll learn all about the Jacobite revolution in 1745.  Fans of the Jacobite revolution of 1745, you must get these.  Because I suspect your pickin's are slim.

We just watched the season finale of "Mad Men."  If you didn't watch it, get it on DVD when it comes out.  Really one of the best shows ever.  So well written, well acted and cool looking.  I can't stop worrying about some of the characters and I'm usually not nuts like that.

Current rodent count in my house: 2 pigs (dear Rosie and Gypsy.  They lives here.) 1 Resident hamster, Natalie.  2 foster hamsters, and 9 foster mice.  Yes, that's right, foster mice.  They are very cute, but the cats think we have lost. our. minds.

Okay, there.  ANTM is on tonight you know.

Not full yet?

I know, it’s like I just posted a recap!  But some nice person was super speedy this week in getting ANTM to youtube.  The sty-cam shows us that, like every other cast, the girls are slobs.  Janet takes on the naggy mom roll and tells them to “respect” the house and “be proactive.”  I’d leave crumbs in her bed for that.  Also, the mom girl always goes home.

And then the girls go to hell.  Really.  They go to some room full of gymnastic equipment.  Poisonous spiders?  No problem.  Lay in a grave right after my friend dies?  On it.  Look like a murder victim?  You betcha.  Uneven bars?  I give.  I’m going home, let Bianca have my crown.  Okay, it’s just a trampoline.  Benny Ninja is there, asking them to pose in mid-jump.  He’s every bit as helpful as anyone on this show ever is. Ambreal ROCKED it.  Heather, bless her, flailed like she was on fire.  Lisa, who gives lap dances to strangers, lacked the confidence to jump.  I love how they edit in music to give you an impression of each girl.  Heather’s flailing is that much more ridiculous with the circus music.  Ambreal is balletic with the tinkly fairie sprite music.

Today’s challenge--pose while being held up in the air by an ice skater.  He’s some olympic dude wearing a square of fake fur on his chin to cover up some horrid disfigurement, perhaps a tattoo that says “chin rides 5 cents”.  I will not accept that perhaps that is actual “beard” grown on purpose.  It’s the usual stupid crap--Show us “anger” while a little man twirls you!--until we get to Heather who, it would appear, has more gravity than everyone else.  She just won’t go air borne.  It’s kind of hilarious.  The girls asked to show “joy” are, not surprisingly, much better than those asked to show “anger” or “sorrow.”  Ebony’s “sorrow” is taken straight from a Keane painting of “puppies for sale.”  She’s not going to be around long.  She sucks out loud.  Lisa wins the shoot for Seventeen, even though she looked really awkward and weird.  The other girls are annoyed.  She picks Janet and Ebony to go with her.  Stock in Seventeen magazine plummets.

The girls come back from their shoot and the jealousy club grudingly greets them. Bianca, who is awesomeness in a crispy bitch package, says to Lisa “Is that makeup making you break out?”  Lisa was all “You hatin’?”  No honey, she was just trying to be helpful.  This prompts Lisa to give us our weekly dose of “I’m not here to make friends.”

The challenge is to pose as “high fashion gargoyles.”  When isn’t it, really?  Ambreal, suddenly getting all kinds of screen time, is afraid of heights.  The fact that her expression never changes suggests that she is on her way home.  Ebony proves herself to be some sort of idiot savant, utterly blank and bland until the camera starts clicking.  Sarah serves hamburgers.  She should sever Ozburgers instead.  They’re much more fierce.

Going to panel, my prediction for the bottom three is Ambreal, Janet, and Sarah.  Ambreal goes home.  Holy mike, Jenah’s weave has gone south quickly.  Real horrorshow.  Kind of a toss up as to whether she or Miss J has the worse hair...Ebony’s shot is “broken, but so right.”  Sure.  If only her gums weren’t so big, then she’d make the big time.  Mid-way through the panel, Tyra gets hungry.  She pokes at Lisa to see if she’s sad for any reason.  Jackpot!  nobody likes her!    All the other girls roll their eyes and smirk.  Lisa gets first photo though, so taste it beeyatches!  I was dead on with my final three! Woo!   Janet and Ambreal are our final two.  Oh, but they send Janet home.  Which is good b/c she isn’t very pretty or tall or talented.  But just think of what a rat hole that apartment is going to become without Janet around to nag...

And in lighter news...

I had this utterly brill, side splittingly hilarious post I wrote as I watched last week’s ANTM.  But I stupidly closed the window I was writing in before I’d saved.  GONE.  The upside is that I can tell you it was as funny as I want to and you’ll never. know.

so, to sum:  Do NOT sass Twiggy.  Just don’t.

I knew, by the one minute mark, that Victoria was going home.  That whole “meh, what the hell, I’ll be a model” attitude does not make Tyra happy.  She wants hungry.  Because she understands hungry.  The kiss of death, of course, was that she got hardly any makeover at all.  That’s always bad news.  They’ve sent someone home right after making them cry about their hair. Those tears will buy you at least one episode.  The other one who didn’t get much change was Heather, but I think that’s because they were afraid she’d go off on them with that Ozburger strength and just trash the place and rip out all the weaves.  All without making any eye contact.

To show the girls what their cuts will look like, they use this lame freeware “download your photo and see what you’d look like with a new cut!” program.  Stupid.  But now we know what they’d look like as Sims.  Which is nice.  It really looked like we weren’t going to get any tears for this makeover show.  Which is like, not acceptable. I mean, geez.  We’ve had not one melt down over nicotine withdraw and now no tears about the hair?  Janet goes from short brown hair to Pat Benetar.  Ambreal goes from really short hair to really really short hair.  Jenah gets the obligatory blonde weave that just looks kinda skanky at first and rapidly goes ratty.  Should get her booted, so all bets off HER for the final 3.  Unless they have pity on her like they did on that now nameless redhead from last season.  Lisa gets a short cut that highlights the fact that her hair is thinner than your grandma’s.  Ebony gets super long hair that will never be mistaken for her own.  But can I just say that getting a weave looks like it HURTS.  I shall now look at weave wearers with the same confused/pitying/contemptuous look I’d used for women in stilettos.  Saleisha got this weird puffy little dutch boy cut that makes her look like someone’s adopted Chinese daughter.  Chantal gets bangs.  And then, just when you thought we were going home dry, it turns out Bianca’s hair is too damaged to turn platinum blonde.  Pity, I know, b/c that’s such a classy look on a black woman.  Instead of giving her long blond hair?  They’re going to shave her head and give her a “medical grade” wig.  Really, has anything ever sounded as luxuriant as “medical grade?”  But damn her, she didn’t burst into tears.  So Jay’s all “How does that make you feel?  You look upset.”  Still, nothing!  So they call in Miss J, who actually whistles “Hush Little Baby” while dabbing Binaca’s eyes with a hanky and then holds it up, declaring it “soaked in model tear droplets”!  But Bianca, she just sat there.  That, my friends, is FIERCE.

She interviews that she thinks she looks ugly, but she looks a hundred times better.  Saliesha hates her hair, which shows that the mirrors are working.  Sarah loves her hair, which suggests maybe the opposite.  She went from being a pretty girl to a pretty mom.    So they have some dumb Cover Girl makeup challenge wearing Cover Girl makeup in their Cover Girl makeup stations.  They have to create a “dramatic eye paired with a glossy, nude lip.”  I’m assuming they have free reign to make the other eye hilarious and the other lip dull and over dressed.  Sarah wins.  Victoria, poor dear, was at a terrible disadvantage b/c they don’t wear make up at Yale.  Perhaps she should be studying the history of make up, huh?

The photo shoot is some silly thing where they pose as flowers.  Bianca is shown first, looking lovely.  Jay tells us how great she was on set and how sometimes you need a “complete emotional meltdown to build yourself up.”  So they totally did her a favor by shaving her head and taunting her!  Sweet!  Unfortunately at panel?  No one likes her shot.  So...whatever.  Likewise, Jay compliments Saliesha on rocking her Cousin Oliver look but at panel?  Nope.  Oh, and if you weren’t sure earlier, Victoria continues to go on about how silly high fashion modeling is (I know!) and how it doesn’t feel natural to her, blah blah blah...see ya.

So, you know, no drama at panel.  You know and I know it’s Victoria.  Especially after this classic exchange:

Twiggy:  I think it’s quite remarkable that you were given cactus because it’s quite prickly an---

Victoria:  Let’s get one thingstraight?  I don’t have a prickly disposition.

Good going!

I really thought the other one at the bottom would be Ebony, but it was Saliesha and her horrible hair.  Which had nothing on Jenah’s rat weave of horrors which was already disintegrating by the end of the show.  but Jenah was called first, so yay for her.  And Victoria was far from torn up about leaving.  Which is, of course, why she’s leaving.

And Miss J?   The ever growing afro?  Really, really stupid. 

today. Not my favorite.

Today is rather sucktastic.  Granted, it's all relative and given how it COULD have gone, it's okay.  At no point did I live in Africa, so that's a check in the positive column.  Bev and I were off to pick apples on a perfect fall day when I got in a rather nasty car accident.  No major injuries, none whatsoever to me or my kids, but the other driver flipped his car into the median.  And let me tell you, that is not a thing you want to see.  Again, as in the purple cow scenario, it is better to see than be, but still.  I really really don't think it was my fault, and Bev, who was behind me doesn't think so either, but another witness and the driver say it was, so I did get a ticket.  And that's just enough to have the niggling guilt eating at my gut.  I think he just got a bonk to the head--he did get up and walk away, but oy.  oy.  As for the rest of the day?  Well, I'll just say that if any of you were hanging on to AOL out of loyalty to us?  You needn't bother anymore.  Again, it's going to be fine, Steve has a gazillion ideas and smart friends with money, but still.  oy.  oy.  Today, she is ass.

lolkatz

Now you all know that I love me some lolcats.  Almost as much as the actual site, I love the offshoots and in jokes that come from it.    I just don't have the computer savvy to put my own together.  So here is a build-your-own.  Our new site is lolkatz.com:



Then you use this image:



And then we'll type " I bot a salami for ur son in the Ahmy.  But I eated it." 

use this font:



See?  We make our own fun.

Corner!

Yesterday was my 14th wedding anniversary.  Because he is the best boy ever, Steve arranged for a babysitter last night and we went out to the Melting Pot for dinner.   We tend to avoid chain restaurants, but the need for fondue won out.  It was very yummy, if rather costly.  We started with the traditional swiss fondue, then had a salad, then shared a platter that had both things Steves eat and things Deanas eat on it.  Then, of course, the dessert--chocolate hazelnut fondue.  The cheese was the best of it, but it was all tastey.    Our waiter was fun, a 24 year old guy who teaches autistic middle schoolers.  Seems the sort of thing that requires a sense of humor.  Or heavy drug usage.  We were a bit disturbed to realize that he was born only 2 years before we met, though.  Our booth was near the kitchen, which has a sharp turn into it.  Everyone that entered had to call out "corner!" It was odd.  Like being near a really punitive kindergarten teacher.  I had to wonder what the kitchen was like, though.  I mean, there's no chef, since you cook yer own damned food.  Is it just cutting-up-food guys?  All the fondues were made table side and the food is brought out raw.  The third course involved cooking the stuff in either oil or broth (we chose broth b/c we're really, really health conscious).  You get a safety lecture that OSHA would approve--the pot is hot, the burner is hot, the metal objects that you dip into the broth/cheese/chocolate will quickly become hot so do not put it in your mouth, dumbass.  The pot of boiling broth or oil comes to the table in a medieval looking vise called a Romulator (insert dorky Star Trek joke here, lord knows I did). Everything is quite showy.  If the waiters could learn juggling or ventriloquism it could only improve the experience.  Last night was, apparently, Ladies Night Out which of course meant drinks ending in "tini" were on the menu.  Damn you Carrie Bradshaw and your lousy taste in alcohol!  I guess I should just be grateful that it was pink drinks and not knickers that she made popular.  Anyway...the food was good, the place felt a little staged, and it was lovelyto have a nice, leisurely meal with my honey.  Next year in Paris!

You Tube ANTM liveblog

Ah, youtube and my beloved dodash8.  I can tape new shows--Pushing Daisies, haven't seen it yet--without missing Model.  Yay.

So.  Bianca.  Geez.  She gave Kimberly bad walking advice, not b/c Kimberly is something of a monster but b/c she wants to screw her up.  And let it be noted that this does not make her "a bad friend."  What would, exactly?  Beer in the weave?  And then she's crabbing about how Heather is getting a "pity leg up."  Yipes.  Girl better be going home this week.

They go to the "fashion madhouse."  Are girls really that scaredy?  Would you really, knowing that you were going on a photo shoot, or at worst some challenge, scream like a freak when someone comes towards you?  There's a photo crew RIGHT THERE.  Clearly you are in no danger.  Sure, Miss J makes me a little uneasy, but I don't see the screaming.  Their boyfriends aren't there, so they don't need to pretend they need an arm around them.  So they have to wear straightjackets and walk down a runway at the same time.  Because, as Miss J points out, this sort of thing comes up in the fashion world all the time.  Right.  And these are just the gals who will be hired for those sorts of shows.  Totally. Or MAYBE, MAYBE it's because if they fall off those heels, they won't be able to catch themselves and it will be funny?  I will say that I have worn a straightjacket before (shut up.  It was for a play), and it is really unsettling to not be able to use your arms.  Contender for Quote of the Week from Victoria: " I got into the top history program at Yale, but I can't walk down a runway."  Bet the girls from Harvard can walk.  Sadly, no one falls over.   Total waste of a gimmick.  They should have put them on stilts, too.

Awesome.  Bianca and Kimberly are lying together (wocka chicka), asking Saleisha about her modeling experience.  Saleisha starts to get cranky.  Bianca accuses Saleisha of being border-line plus sized(?!)  and then accuses her of looking "like a Bratz doll" (um, kettle?  pot. [was that racisit?]).  Bianca is certain that her mouth will get her "everywhere in this business."  Um...okay....that sounds kinda dirty.  She then tells her little audience that she will do whatever she needs to including "cutting up clothes." Whooo baby.  I take it back. She canNOT go home.

The runway challenge is to model fashions by Colleen Quen.  She makes really beautiful, whimsical couture.


The challenge winner gets to go to Paris to walk in Quen's premiere show there.  None of them really stood out, but in the end, Saleisha wins it.  Bianca dies a little inside.  Honestly,  I couldn't focus on anything but  the asstastic job Roy Campbell was doing as an MC.  cheesier than a Wisconsin deli plate. 

The photo shoot puts them in climbing rigging, on a climbing wall, wearing gowns and "edgy editorial (read: ugly) makeup."  Stoo-pid.  Victoria, bless her, says that she felt like "a sea nymph on acid scaling a wall in the sunshine."  I think we've all been there.  Kimberly commits the sin of being too pretty. Lord knows we don't want that.  She says she wants to be "a role model" for the girls with a normal life.  Not those clingy ones, for sure.  It's one of those moments that make you say, "Have you SEEN this show?"   At any point, has a judge said, "She's refreshingly normal!" (answer: no).  Heather's shoot is terrific of course, because she's like Rain Man, but with pretty in place of counting cards.

We go to panel.  Tyra looks lovely but speaks with a semi-French accent that comes and goes.  Miss Jay is sporting the Cosby Kid look again.  That horrid Roy Campbell  (whose name makes me think of Hee Haw) is the guest judge.  I'm worried that if they don't stop fawning over Heather, the other girls are going to poison her.  They just don't know what to do with Victoria.  She's very serious at panel and asks questions and then goes and takes a good photo.  She still looks like a horse, but hey.  I do NOT get the Janet love.  Pretty mom (provided your mom yanks ass hair for a living), but not model.  In the end, however, Bianca and Kimberly (bi-atches!) are the bottom two and Kimberly goes home, even though Tyra really likes her...ears.  Yes, her ears.

filler

Last night was booze free.  We didn't even watch telly.  We just sat with our laptops, parallel playing like toddlers.  But the night before was Alberta's Spa Collins (YUM!!) and House (love him!)  Janet gets to drink with me.  Andi does not.

Today's bumpersticker, seen as I walked to pick up my van and convince it that it totally does not need a transmition and that thunk between gears is just the car equivalent of  a fierce stomp:  Dyslexic Devil Worshippers Sell Their Souls to Santa.

Some information for you

Watched last week's "Reaper" last night, it was funny.  Watched most of "Aliens in America," it was not.  Watched about a minute of "Moonlight," gagged, fast forwarded to at least see Logan being a vampire and nearly wept at the horribleness of it all.  Dreadful.  And I'm predisposed to like both vampires AND Logan.  The writing...it was like someone was writing a parody of a terrible TV show.  Only without being funny.  Just eck.

My new hobbie is making cocktails.  I got hooked by watching Alberta Straub's web show.  Her mojito (the flightito) recipe was just SO good.   So I've tried several of hers and the got a book as well.   Because when I become interested in something, I buy books and supplies.  That's what we do.  Last night, we tried the La Floridita Daquiri and the Caipirhina.  Both were REALLY good.  I was esp. fond of the second one.  It's made with Cachaca, a Brazilian spirit that's kind of like Rum, but made from sugar cane, rather than the molasses.  or something.  It's a yummy thing.  Lest it look like I've hopped on an already stale trend, I must stress that I'm not making Appletinis or Cosmos.  I'm making vintage cocktails.  Like Don Draper would drink if it weren't entirely girly to mix the spirits with anything except ice cubes.  It would slow him down to have to mix things.  I like that part though.  C'mon over!

This is nice.

Weather is gorgeous.  Steve stayed home to work on the porch swing.  Not that it needed repair, but he did his work on the porch swing.  It's just lovely out.  The weekend, once we got through the hairy part, was nice.  I love the Braddock Heights picnics; there is always live bluegrass music and everyone brings a dish and it just feels like "hey, I live in a little community in the mountains."  I get the warm fuzzy part of rural without the scary, isolated part.  Non-threatening banjo music.  The picnic was followed by the Historical Society's auction.  I bought a print by local artist Yemi.  It's of the spires of downtown Frederick, our previous abode:



I also got some Braddock Heights memorabilia from the old amusement park-like thing that used to be here.  I hate that I can't time travel and see it in person.

Saturday night, we had a bonfire with the Donalds which is always nice.  Sunday I hit Super Sunday, which was fine and productive.  I didn't feel all that well, so I only hit one store and then took to bed to read Outlander.  Which is lovely.  Then Sunday night, Lara and I went to see Stardust at the cheap theater.  I liked it.  It's been a while since I've seen a movie like that.  It felt like a Terry Gilliam movie--odd and beautiful. Claire Danes--go back to the red hair.  The blonde makes you look like Gwyneth Paltrow, who is lovely, but of whom we already have one.  Charlie Cox is absolutely adorable, but since he was born in 1982, I shall have a motherly attitude toward him.  I would like to make him some soup.  Ricky Gervais was hilarious, of course.  it was a flawed movie, but such a nice change.  Just a nice love story with great scenery and costumes and a healthy dose of silliness. 

Now I shall buckle down to a week of serious TV viewing.  What have you loved this season?

It must be fall

It must be fall b/c we have 8 gazillion things going on in one day.  There are about 3 weekends almost guaranteed to be nice and every activity must be crammed into them.  Today we had to go to Toys Sure "R" Expensive to buy birthday presents for two parties today.  Got home, wrapped the gifts, sent Ben down the street to Wolfgang's party.  In a half an hour, we're off to the park for the Braddock Heights Community Picnic and Auction and Ice Cream Social.  Then Steve takes Ben and Julianna back to the TRU to some Pokemon event to "catch" a special pokemon on their DS games.  Then Lily has a birthday party to attend.  And at some point I want to take them into Middletown for the Heritage days (encampments and a book sale!).  And  tomorrow is 50% off clothes day at Goodwill!  So much to do.  And here I sit, reading lolsecretz (no thanks to Andi).  It's a combo of PostSecrets and lolcats.  And it's funnier than either:

Last night, I hosted my last Tastefully Simple party.  My good friend Stacey is a consultant, so I told her I'd host one more party.  Only I hate doing that b/c I hate asking my friends to come to my house to buy things.  Even if I am feeding them.  Plus, I"m not a fan of the product, really. The stuff is okay, but it's not the way I cook.  If I'm going to bake a dessert, it's going to be from scratch.  I don't use spice blends.  And my life just doesnt' involve dip that often.  I like all these things well enough, but not well enough to keep around.  I hate home parties.  I hate that there's a display in my dining room.  I hate the pitch.  And she was wearing a shirt that said "Tastefully Simple" right under her head.  Like a label.  Gracie Allen was tastefully simple.  So anyway.  I'm done with this schtick.  Come to my house, eat some food, have a drink, enjoy.  But leave your checkbook at home.

Oh, and Andi's going to have a baby soon and she's made the mistake of asking people what they think of names before the baby is actually here.  You should go weigh in.  The advice of utter strangers is just what every hormone-addled new mother-to-be needs.  Hint: don't let her name a girl Reed.

It's all just smoke and mirrors. Oh, and dead babies.

It seems likely that I'm doing stuff and the kids are cute or something, but who can notice with so much awesome TV?  First, my primary trash TV love, ANTM. We open with the discovery that all the previous seasons of stretch Hummers to drive the girls around didn't count.  Because now they get to ride in a "green" bus.  "This cycle, Tyra wanted to pay attention to the environment, so Top Model is Going Green!"  And it's green as well as "green" b/c if it isn't ostentatious and showy, it isn't actually happening.  The interior looks like something Hildy from Trading Spaces would come up with given a "green" theme.  There's grass everywhere and it's all recycle-y and stuff.  Right.  Whatever, Tyra.  The house is all "green,"  poured concrete, recycled materials...enormous photos of Tyra recycling another race's culture by painting herself like an aborigine.  The girls all dash around getting their beds and jumping (or falling, Lisa!) into the pool with their clothes on.  You know who doesn't jump around like an idiot?  Heather.  You see, she has Ozberger's syndrome.  Apparently the symptoms are a lot like Asperger's, only it lets you be okay with being on national TV and makes you hyper aware of the word "ass." 

One of our little sub-stories today is that Bianca hates Lisa.  She had been hating Ebony, but even she could see that Bianca vs. Ebony was just going to be a little too easy to make fun of ("if only they'd named her Ivory instead of Bianca, then they'd be together in perfect harmony!").  Lisa, for all of her bikini dancer ways, is stunning.  Bianca has purple hair.  In the end,  Bianca apologizes to Lisa, but then says in the confessional that she only did it b/c she didn't want it to get back to Tyra that she'd been  nasty.  Awesome.  Poor Ebony had SO set herself up as the bitch and it gets stolen away by some homegirl in a $25 weave.  Bummer.

And THEN, to make it even harder on Ebony to come back, we get to see Kimberly (who?) advising the other girls to stay away from Heather b/c "people like that?  They cling."  When Heather talks to her, she says she's "like whatever" b/c she's afraid that Heather will think she's...human?  Not a horrid monster? ....and make her a "go-to person."  Yipes.  Ebony, hon, you are going to have to try a LOT harder than "Let's guess who has an eating disorder."

The photo shoot reveals that Tyra has had another change of heart.  Eight seasons of chain-smoking girls riding in Hummers has come to an end.  This is a No Smoking Season and all the girls have to quit.  Now.  Day-um.  Three bitches in the house isn't enough, now she's going to make them go through withdrawl?  "Back at the house, girls, you will find a box of blunt instruments and switchblade knives.  Enjoy." Awesome.  Seriously, I bow to her.  So anyway, the shoot is the girls looking at their reflections in the mirror as they (the girls, not the mirrors) smoke.  The reflection is a photoshopped in image of the girl exhibiting a side-effect of smoking.  You know, premature aging, lung cancer, chemo, DEAD BABIES!  Yes, they posed a model with a "stillborn child" in her arms.  WTF?  None of the girls batted an eye at that though.  Saleisha was just upset that she had to share a frame with Heather.  She almost got that Ozburger all over her.  ew.

They had some lame ass challenge to buy "modelesque" clothes at Old Navy.  It involved running around trashing the store and turning up in dresses that barely cover their bums.  Miss Jay told them to keep it simple.  The ubiquitous Benny Ninja told them to be sure to buy lots of scarves and necklaces.  The show just doesn't even TRY to make sense any more.

At panel, although refreshingly free of carnations or ruffles or other weird gimmicks, Miss J looks like a Cosby Kid.  hey hey hey!  Twiggy looks like maybe she's gotten into Janice Dickinson's stash (but sure as hell not her wardrobe. What in the heck was was she wearing?), Tyra looks pretty good.  Nigel remains Nigel.  Mila, shocking no one, goes home.  She takes the news with a dead-eyed smile.  Seriously, she looked like a budgie. 

Beauty (kinda) and the Geek (oh yes)

We've been watching this since season 1.  It's much nicer than most reality shows in that the geeks aren't humiliated (much) and the beauties...well, they bury themselves, really.  Because somewhere along the way beauty was translated as "moderately attractive in a totally boring way and very, very stupid."  The geeks, however are always full on geeks.  Some ugly, some not, all dorky all the time.  The high point of geekdom was the guy from Season 2 whose tag line always read "Tracks monkeys with lasers."  Never any real explanation.  Just "tracks monkeys with lasers."  If ever there was a lost opportunity for T-shirt sales, this was it.

This year, the beauty pool features bosoms.  Great big bosoms.  Purchased at great expense ($8K, Amanda proudly proclaimed, and I'm pretty sure she was paying by the pound), but considered by one of the interchangeable blondes to be "an investment" b/c the amount she'll save in getting free drinks will cover the cost of the boob job.  Amanda's big dream is to be a Playboy centerfold.  Now admittedly, I haven't seen Playboy in quite some time (and boy do I miss the articles), but I don't think bosoms that cause people to recoil in terror was really the Playboy aesthetic.  Jugs, on the other hand, is watching her carefully.  As is Knocked-Up and Gun-Toting, but they'll have to wait for her to land a man.  Jennifer, bless her heart, is a big ol' Anna Nicole of a gal.  Her CW profile says she's at Northeastern U on a rowing scholarship (journalism major, natch).  She could totally kick the butt of any of the other contestants.  Even the dude with the foam broadsword.  I was all hating on her until she got paired up with a geek who was scared to death of her.  All she could see was that he clearly didn't want to be with her (we, the all knowing audience had heard him say he was skeered), and she just murmured, "Sorry you got stuck with me."  It was so raw and sad that now I'm pulling for her.  My current favorite is Jasmine.  She has this weird baby-on-a-pack-a-day voice and is just gleefully stupid.  I'm sure I'll switch alliances once it gets going, though.  I'm fickle like that.

The geek pool usually features one Super Geek, always trying to achieve the astonishing level of geekhood reached by Season One's Richard.  This season's Richard is Joshua, not to be confused with Josh who is actually kind of cute and is in a Rubberband Club.  There's always a tool, who will be played this season by David.  David is a "LARPer" which means he dresses up in his D&D costume and tears around a field whapping his friends with a broadsword made of foam.  Patton Oswalt plays him on Reno 911.  And truthfully?  I think it sounds kinda fun.  Unfortunately, most LARPers are Comic Book Guy losers like David.  This season's guy-you-want-to-put-in-your-pocket is Tony who is, of course, Asian.  Adorable.  He wears a bowtie.  Will is fat and balding and wears a flack vest and makes me sad.  William is skinny and has enormous ears and makes me sad.  Luke?  I'm calling Luke Hedgie b/c of his hair.  That makeover show cannot come fast enough for him.

You'll note that I've not mentioned this year's "twist"--they've tossed in a geeky girl and a stupid-but-good-looking boy.  I didnt' mention it b/c I don't care.  The girl will get a sexy librarian taking down her hair makeover (Miss Yakamoto!  You're beautiful!"  And the boy looks like a serial killer and is actually an actor with a lengthy entry on IMDB.  I don't know why that bothers me, but it does.  Even if he WAS on Veronica Mars.

The highlight of this casting episode was watching the girls answer questions.  Like "What was the last book you read?"  "Well, I haven't done much reading since I started college..."   "Who was the first man on the moon?"  "Lance Armstrong!"  But my favorite moment was when Joshua got so tongue-tied when faced with a room full of boobs and hair that his called his mom and put her on speaker phone so that she could tell them how great he is.  Awesome.  We anxiously await the next installment.  Life before reality show TV was hollow indeed.

Urp?

Saw this at the Safeway today.  "Which piece of mouse do you prefer? "  "I'll just have a slice of head please, thanks."

In case you missed it...

For those of you who get alerts, I've finished the ANTM post, but I just added to the original rather than starting a separate post.

Yes, Andi, I'll cover dear old Beauty and Geek.  We have it on TiVo and plan to watch it tonight.

I really prefer D'nah, but if you insist...

And feel better soon ,Ellen!!

My eyes!!

Okay, I was going to watch all of last nights ANTM before posting. I missed it on the telly (I KNOW!), so I'm watching it on YouTube.  I thought I should finish before commenting, but I'm only on the second part and I've had to stop to regain my composure.  First, there was the girl named Spontaniouse (ATTENTION PREGNANT WOMEN:  this is NOT an acceptable name.  Naming your child after character traits is risky at best.  Seriously, Chastity?  But if you insist on emulating your Pilgrim forbears, do not, do NOT give the spelling a tweak.  If your child is named Vivacious, people will say, "really? Is it hard to have a name like that?"  If your child is named Vyvayshus, people will say, "Holy shit, was your mom on crack?!?"  Andi, I'm looking at you.  Don't you name my niece/nephew Dysgruntallt or Craynkee.),  then there was a drag queen dressed as Tyra doing some silly song in a cruise ship dining room (and over breakfast, no less.  Who can handle a quickly-out-of-breath old queen before 10 am?), then we had the hunchback with Aspergers, and then, THEN a girl pretended to give Tyra a brazillian bikini wax.  No lie.  She said, with a Georgian accent, "You gotta get the crack up.  You gotta spread the cheeks..."  And actually touched Tyra's lady parts.  Through a dress, yes, but seriously, this puts Trynny and Suzannah's "You got fantastic tits!" to SHAME.  Poor choice of words, I think...  I only wish I knew how to capture stills to share with you Miss J's  "oh LORDY!" face.  And then, before I'd caught my breath, Marvita (seriously, people.  Seriously) was calling out Ebony for being a bitch (and she was right, but she is not pretty) and just holy cow.  So I had to come over and keep a running commentary.  I'll be right back...

Oh please keep the Boston bahtendah!  I want to listen to her talk. I miss Cheers. Plus, she's half almost blind!  Oh, Marvita is going to feed Vamptyra!  "I hear that you been through a lotta lotta stuff in your life.  Tell me about growing up and all the things you went through and all the tragedy."  And make it WET.  Tyra grows thirsty.  half blind in one eye is NOT cutting it.  "A lot of people have done a lot of bad things to me."  Tyra replies, "Why don't you talk about that?"  Because it's PAINFUL you monster!!  And then they follow her up with Mila, who says she's had a good life so far and she likes to celebrate b/c she's so happy!  The winces on their faces--yes, they're wincing--suggest that is NOT going to cut it my friend.  Go poke one of your eyes and get back to us.  And then, as if I had written the script for her, Tyra says, "when was the last time you cried?"  Then? They mock her when she leaves.  In their defense, she's not all that cute, kinda doughy and can't walk.

Okay, in the 3rd part, a girl pulls a really long paper out of her nose.  Excellent.  Cast her.  And then the girl who is an exotic dancer "I'm not naked!  I'm not topless!  I wear a bikini!"  Gives one of the other girls a lap dance.  Because if there's one thing the other cycles have taught us, it's that Tyra loves to bring strippers and "dancers" into modelling...  The bitch, Ebony?  Her mom is a crackhead.  Tyra was able to get that out of her (the tears make it slide out better) and told her that that was why she's a bitch.  Thank you, Tyra!  Saleisha and Chantal (no, I really do wish I was kidding) vow to be the last two standing.  Chantal is convinced that she was MADE to model.  I'm not aware of a belief system that is headed by a god that would do something like that, but okay...

I must post now and make dinner.  more later.

Okay, part four, they winnow down the herd to 20.  The rest of them "will be left behind on this island."  Day-um.  Then they have to stand there and pretend to happily wave bon voyage?  Day-um. So before Tyra goes into "deliberation with Mr. and Mrs. Jay" (did they get married?  I can only IMAGINE the dress.  Holy cow.), she makes the girls tell her (and all the others) why each of them should go on.  Sadly, it is not hilarious.  In deliberation, they let little slip, but I'm still betting that Mila Merry Sunshine does not move on.  The designate one girl, who is neither plus sized nor frighteningly thin, "real sized."  Whatever.  The horse faced Victoria looks like Janice from Friends--"Hel-LO Chandlah Bing!"  Okay, I was wrong.  Mila is in. They must just hope that her sunshine collides with clouds for dramatic thunder!  What?  Dammit Jim, I'm not a meteoroligist.    They keep showing Lisa crying, so that means she's in....sucks to be the girl next to her though.  She's wearing this horrible early 90s prom gown and has thick legs, but she seldom gets more than an elbow on screen.  Poor dear.  But she's not in, so she doesn't count.  There we are.  Our lucky 13.

To break from our semi-live blog and recap:
Ebony (the bitch)
Heather (Captain Aspergers)
Mila (Captain Prozac)
Janet (the Waxer)
Jenah (the one all girls hate b/c they're intimidated.  What?  I have nothing pithy yet)
Chantal (Born Model)
Ambreal (Tall Girl who Looks Short)
Victoria (Janice from Yale)
Sarah (who?)
Saleisha (the one whose name isn't as funny as Spontaniouse)
Kimberly (who? see, they DO need silly names)
Lisa (does not dance topless)
Bianca ($25 weave)

Gone are my bahtendah and Marvita, whose tears were not enough to hide the fact that she's not even remotely pretty.  Not that that generally matters on this show.  Coming on this cycle--drama.  Explotation of a "disorder" or "disability".  Makeovers.  Enjoy!

...which reminds me

I've been catching up on Andi's blog (bottom link on my blog list) and it's reminding me of too many eerie life similarities (except the pregnancy.  Thank god)...In addition to our apparent employability, we share having dudes on our roof .  When we moved in, our roof was a nice fire-engine red.  It is now the Nantucket red that goes well with expensive polos and Topsiders.  Which I'll find for you at Goodwill.  But this is not the color I want on my roof.  So we're having it painted.  Paint costs, it turns out, are determined by the square footage of the roof.  The square footage of the roof is something few people consider when purchasing a house.  This is a mistake.  Particularly if the roof is metal and painted.  Our dinky little under 2000 sq. feet house has a roof with the sq footage of a damned mall.  Six Gables, you see.  How quaint.  How architecturally interesting.  How costly to paint.  But anyway, I have a guy stomping around up there. It's like Santa is here, all day every day.  Only instead of bringing me presents, he's taking my money.  And he's telling me that the last person who patched our roof did a crappy job.  Which I could have guessed b/c the previous owners of this house were staunch devotees of the bubblegum-and-duct-tape school of home repair.  And before that, ancient people lived here (standard old people, not like Incas or something), and before that, it was a summer cottage.  And we all know how well the rental home gets treated.  "Rode hard and put up wet" is a colorful phrase that applies here.  We're forever discovering little tidbits, like the fire in the early 20s.  Like the creative wiring.  Like the sub-code plumbing.  Character!  We have to periodically have people over so they can tell us how great the house is.  Because we love it, we do....but damn it's like an abusive relationship.  Couldn't it just be haunted or something?  Oh wait, it is.  But at least soon, it will have a fire-engine red roof.  So we have that.

This cannot be good.

I was shopping the Goodwill yesterday.  I am the master of thrift shopping, for I have an eye for good fabric and design and I can pull that designer name out of a sea of Faded Glory and Norton McNaughton.  Back in the day, Leslie and I were the queens of plucking the Hanna Andersson and Oilily from the racks of McKids and Circo and reselling them at a tidy profit... (Leslie was better than me).  all this to say that I'm naturally classy.  Not klassy, like Rick James.  Classy, like Grace Kelly.  I am programmed for the finer things.  I have dragged my hillbilly heritage to my Cape Cod birthplace.  So I'm walking through the Goodwill,  with a tailored wool blazer and two piece Flax ensemble (retail at least $120!) over my arm.  A woman comes up to me and says, "Excuse me, where are the ladies handbags?"  I'm game, I'm a seasoned shopper AND a helpful citizen. "Hmm...they used to be here with the belts and shoes...They keep moving things around on me."  "Yes.  Well, do you at least know where you keep the dressy dresses?"  Where *I* keep?  I keep them in the closet in Julianna's room b/c I so seldom use them, but why would you care?  Oh no.  You think I WORK at Goodwill.  Holy crap.  So Andi, you can just stop your whining.

She's a handful

Lily turned FIVE on Saturday.  Me wee-est bairn!  Babe of my bosom!....is finally that much closer to the age of reason, thanks be to heaven.  I shall mourn Julianna's passage into adolescence.  But loss of preschooler?  Not so much.  Crazy little monkeys the lot of them.  Cute?  Oh yes.  But they don't make good housepets.

Saturday night we went to the fair, so that Lily could get her birthday funnel cake.  Rides were ridden, chickens ogled, games of "skill" avoided.  Earlier we'd gone to the Small Angels annual picnic and Lily won a bingo game, so it was like double presents.  What says birthday like bingo prizes?  I'd gotten her one of those accursed damnable Webkinz.  Julianna had been on a quest for a husky.  Had to have the husky  Which, of course, was hard to find.  So I ended up calling around looking for it.  I swear, it felt dirty.  I couldn't believe I was playing their stupid game.  Blech.  But it was her money.  In retrospect, I should have had HER call.  I'll drive her to meet the dealer, but I am not making the contact.  The upshot, of course, is that these stupid animals became very attractive to Lily.  "Nope, sorry.  You have to be able to read to use the website."  Julianna: "No you don't mom."  "Thanks."  Of course you don't.  For those who do not house a child between the ages of 4 and 14, Webkinz are these beanie baby sized animals that come with a code in their sealed-until-you-cough-up-12-bucks tag.  Then you can log onto the website and play with your stuffed animal in a virtual setting.  There, isn't that nicer than having to pick up the actual toy and manipulate it?  Speaking of manipulation, other products tied into the Webkinz offer "special codes" to be used for more schwag on the site.  It makes bitter.  Because if I'd thought of it, I'd be a gazillionaire.  Damn.

Birthday party was Sunday.  Old buddies Emma and Sarah were there, along with new child Rosie.  Also Taro and Maeve from up the street.  A perfect size by my reckoning.  I've mastered the child party now.  Two games (in this case, pass the parcel and find the goody bags), cake and presents.  Then turn them outside for running and screaming, to call them back in for pinata just before the folks arrive.  Two hours.  No problem.  I highly recommend it. 

Oh, by the way?  No pictures.  My digital camera keeled over.  I'm on the film again.  I took the ailing digital to Ritz Camera which could make me feel like I was getting ripped off if they were handing me money.  The woman there looked up the average cost of repair for my camera and told me she'd suggest just buying a new one.  Oh?  do you sell those here?  How convenient for me.  I trotted back out, with my camera.  Later, I looked on the Canon website...oh look, both problems my camera is having are known problems with camera and will be fixed for free by Canon.  Fancy that.

I'm cranky tonight, it seems.  Anyway, Lily had a good birthday, capped off by an eNORmous amount of cucumber sushi.  Some days she seems to live on a squeeze yogurt and a couple of boogers.  Other days there just isn't enough food to put in her.

Oh, today at school, she did her birthday walk.  After the walk around the sun five times, her teacher asked her friends to give her five wishes.  Natalie said, "I wish....you had a friend."  Uh?  Thanks?  Emma said, "I wish...your house...was surrounded by TALL grass, as tall as the Empire State Building and it was full of flowers!"  Sara then chimed in, "I wish you had a flying unicorn!"  Aiden wished she had a helicopter.  It all sounds lovely.  Then it was time for the special snack I brought--those little ice cream cups with the paper lid you pull off and then you eat the ice cream with a wooden stick.  Only I brought 12 and there are 15 kids in the class.  Niiiiice.  I'm sure the kindergardeners will understand.  Right?  I lit out of there and headed for the 7-11 to buy a pint of ice cream and was back before the last kid was done.  Oy.  Way to feel like a heel, I tells ya.

Bok?

So here at the Circle of Life Ranch and Rodent Hospice, we have a bit of bad news.  Mildred met her end at the hands (paws?  jaws?) of a fox.  Kind of a storybook ending, if you're a chicken.  A bit of a cliche, really, but she wasn't especially imaginative, if truth be told.  I am, of course, very sad to no longer hear her soft bokking.  I'm conflicted about bringing in replacement chickens.  I liked having her, but less responsibility is always welcome...esp. since we're going away for a week in January.  Finding someone to slog through the snow to check on chickens could be a challenge.  Plus, I'm just not sure I'm up to more grisly critter death.  Fredo died about a year ago and between him and Mildred have been a score of rodents and hermit crabs.  Frankly, I'm done.  I declare a moratorium on death.  Make it so.

Please, no ball lofting.

So, the day after my birthday, I wanted to go roller skating.  I haven't skated in years, and haven't been to a rink since I lived in Germany.  There, we had this great rink with both in-line and regular skates.  And steps.  And half-pipes.  And a trampoline.  It seems there are no liability laws in Germany.  It was awesome.  But I'd have settled for some good old-fashion skating around in a circle, listening to bad pop music....with my comb in my back pocket...feathered hair blowing back...  But I need to get back my skating chops, b/c I totally want in on this action.  I think a roller derby team made up entirely of moms who don't physically punish their kids would kick ASS.  Imagine the pent-up rage and hostility.  I'll be working on my roller name.  I will ROCK that satin jacket, my friends.

Annnyway....the roller rink was closed with no explanation.  But the duckpin bowling place next door was open.  So that's where we went.  For you people unlucky enough to live far from Baltimore, duckpins are squat little bowling pins that you knock down with a little cannonball-sized ball.  It's cooler than bowling.  I know, but really.  It is.  See?  Same cool shoes:


Same riveting scoreboard action:


Same incredibly awesome dedication to 1950s design:


But here?  Funny signs.



Seriously, how can you beat THAT?

ETA:  Lily, by the way, didn't so much bowl as release the balls into the lane.  She'd sort of set them down and nudge them toward freedom.  The balls, for their part, were ambivalent about the whole thing,  and kind of meandered up the lane, occasionally bonking into a pin, but just as often dropping into the gutter.  Which would be expected from an almost 5 year old, but we had the bumpers up to prevent gutter balls (we are AMAZING at bowling with the bumpers up!).  She managed to get gutter balls anyway.  Each time, she'd crouch down, set the ball down with a little nudge, and then turn and hide her face in my stomach, the suspense being too much to take.  "Tell me when it knocks one down!"  Okay honey, but we have a while.  Would you like me to sing Alice's Restaurant for you, in the meantime?

this one goes out to Austin

Hi, I'm back and I'm on the other side of 40 now.  I'll just pretend that there are no implications of mortality there.  So Friday, I took the kids to school and did my car line routine.  I had finally gotten one of those birthday cake hats and I wore that, affording me many, many opportunities for this exchange:

"OH, is it your birthday?"
"no, why?"

And then went straight to Greenbrier State Park because they don't take reservations and it's Labor Day weekend.  Only I get there and discover that now they DO take reservations and are booked up.  Um.  The nice lady said she'd check to see if there'd  been any cancellations for the night.  While she was looking, I thought to mention, "Well, it's my birthday and I was just going to camp out tonight with my friends..."  "Well," she said, "we DO keep a few sites in reserve for emergencies...like yours."  So I if some poor family stumbled off the road needing a place to stay, too bad. It's not THEIR birthday.

I secured the site and went home to get Ben his sneakers and lunch money (the ONE day he doesn't wear sneakers, it's PE.) and take them to the school.  Then home for a quick kitchen tidy and short nap.  Then back to the camp to pitch the tent.

The sites were a lot closer together than I expected, so it's just as well that I abandoned my plan to camp all by myself.  There would have been no introspection on that night anyway.  As soon as I started to unpack the tent, I began to hear the theme song of our stay:  "AuuuuSTIN!  Gitoverhere!"  Occasionally, sister Ashley (no, I'm serious) got a "WHERE do you think yer goin'?" but it was young Austin who was the real troublemaker.  But I got up the tent, hoped they were just stressed about pitching camp and would chill the hell out, and went to get my kids from school.

No, they didn't chill.  But you knew that already, didn't you?  When I got back to camp for the night, I had a couple of hours before Bev and Lara showed.  So I set up the chairs and unpacked the food and tried to start a fire. No outside firewood was allowed in b/c of some weevil infestation or something, so I had to buy wood at the camp store ("you can gather and chop any deadwood you find!"  Yeah,thanks).  I'd gathered loads of kindling, enoughfor the next morning's fire, too.  So I thought.  The wood from the store was greener than Ralph Nader.  It hissed and carried on in a  most discouraging way.  All the while, "AuuuuSTIN!  Whuddoyou think yer doin?" "DAMMIT AUSTIN!"  Good times.  This crew had two adjoining pad sites, many people of many ages.  Nothing like getting to join someone else's dysfunctional family reunion.  The site right next to mine had a mom and two kids.  Years of living downtown with a narrow back garden had taught me how to not see or hear people mere feet away, but they apparently had never lived downtown and insisted on saying hi.  And showing me bugs.  And telling me about snails.  Look kid.  I HAVE children.  If I'd wanted to camp with kids, I'd have brought my own.  Luckily mom called "Bree!  Did you move my cigarettes?"  I began to fear that this was not a state park, but a trailer park.  I realized that I should have just hopped on the AT and hiked to the next shelter to camp.  I also realized that I suck at building fires.  How hard can it BE?

Finally Bev and Lara showed up with cake and presents.  I put on my birthday hat.

Hello Kitty cupcakes!  yay!  They also brought wine and olives and dippy things.  It is very, very good to share your birthday with friends.  No sooner had I warned them about Austin than we heard "AuuuSTIN!Gitoverhere!" and cracked up.  And, about then, the fire really caught.  It never burned high, but it was warm and nice to look at.  So we ate and drank and felt bad for Austin and complained about the bright flippin' light our neigbors had.  When I went up for more wood, I managed to get dry stuff this time and all was well.  cozy, contented, nice.  Lara slept in her car on a memory foam mat.  Bev and I took the tent and the blow up mattress.  Bev, bless 'er, was out cold before she got horizontal.  I lay down and immediately had to pee.   Trudged up to the bath house.  Back.  Lay down.  Snooze.  Wake cold and needing to pee.  If I get up, I'll wake up completely.  but I can't sleep needing to pee.  but it's cold...and so on, pretty much all night until about 6 or so, when Lara got up to pee and set her car alarm off.  I later suggested that she should have just yelled "AuuuSTIN!  Turn that damned thing off!"  Of course, when MY alarm goes off, I panic and can't remember what to do and it just goes on and on while I curse like mad.  So I got up, went to the bath house, made fun of Lara, got another blanket out of the van and went back to sleep until 9.  got up, made the fire (so easy with dry wood!  I'm not a fire failure after all!), got the water on for coffee, and heated the danish.

Oh, did I not mention that I was dressed as a gnome?  I was. 

Then we just hung out. Lara didn't roll out of her bed until 11, by which point we'd broken camp and were musing about how funny it would be to just leave.  We were home by noon.  More later.  First, here are some other photos:


home, sweet, home



bedding folding action!



Crone in the woods.

Some one get me some eucalyptus

I am nearer my goal of becoming a koala bear.  Yes, I know they aren't really bears.  I like the way it sounds, "koala bear," okay?  You can just get your own blog and use only proper Latin names.  So back off.  See?  I'm already grumpy, just like our marsupial friend.  And I carried my young in a pouch and nursed them until they could digest gum leaves.  Or could chew gum.  I hardly remember anymore.  I enjoy eating, so I've got that part of koala life covered.  But only now that my children are in school, can I near that most wondrous characteristic of our little Aussie friend--16-20 hours of sleep a day.  That first day of school?  I napped for FOUR HOURS.  The next day, a bit under three.  Then two.  Then, today, only one (you get the bends if you go back to a human schedule too quickly).  It rocks, being a koala bear.  I think I'll skip the chlamydia, though.

So yeah.  Kids are in school, full day.  Even wee Lily, who has proclaimed it "long and tiring" even though she STILL seldom drops off to sleep before 10 pm.  Clearly no koala blood in THAT one.  I've volunteered to be a car line helper, opening doors and chirping "good morning" at the fresh-faced little mites.  I'm extra chipper with the sullen ones, of course.  But this means that even on the first day, I was racing around screaming, "Let's GO!  Shoes ON, people!" and only had time for one on-the-porch first day photo.  And it turns out it looks like a suspect line-up:



"The one in the skirt stole my bag, officer!"  (aren't you glad this isn't the sort of blog where I would have said "stole my heart"?  me too).

Steve told me to take the whole week off, to nap, do nothing.  I needed no further prodding.  I've done no more than is necessary to keep everyone fed and clothed.  I haven't even been sewing.  Nuthin.  Felt gooood, let me tell you.  It gave me a chance to play with my birthday present!  I'm coming at you from a schweet little Macbook!  Don't I look cooler now?  I know, hardly seemed possible, but there you go.

And yes, it IS my birthday tomorrow.  So I hope you have my presents ready.  I'll be 40.  So that makes my mom pretty damned old.  Just so you know.  Hi mom!  the fact that I very clearly remember her 40th birthday is...unsettling.  And even more, I remember being out for a walk with her down our road remarking that that year she was 44 and I was 22 and how cool.  It was YESTERDAY.  How did time speed up so?    You wait, whippersnappers.  You'll see.

What am I doing for said birthday?  Well, that fabulous trip to Europe is out, so I'm going to camp out with my friends and then go rollerskating.  Because apparently I'm 8.