Archive for September 29, 2006

Guilty — Nah, don’t really feel guilty — Pleasures

September 29, 2006

Am I crazy for liking the song “Infra Red” by Placebo? It’s so catchy! BUT… As far as I can tell, it’s all about creepy stalker violence — um, not my usual cup ‘o tea. Have you seen the video? I like the beginning with the badass dude in the car, but as soon as they start showing bugs I have to stop watching. Watch it on You-Tube here, if you don’t mind disgusting bugs.

That brings me to the next seemingly out-of-character thing I’ve liked recently. A few weekends ago I had sat all weekend doing absolutely nothing. Jeff had been off jet-setting somewhere, so when he came over on Sunday to hang out, he wanted to relax, but I was stir-crazy and couldn’t wait to get out of the house. I wanted to go to a movie, and my first choice was naturally Little Miss Sunshine, but Jeff wanted to see the latest action-adventure blockbuster-y type of thing. I typically steer clear of that genre; car crashes and gratuitous violence = not my style. BUT, I reeeeally wanted to get out of the house, and so I eagerly agreed to go see Crank. And y’all, it was so good! Not only was the lovely and talented Amy Smart knock-your-socks-off adorable, the whole thing was hilarious! I felt like I was on a roller coaster the whole time — like a fun, old-fashioned amusement park roller coaster, where I just scream and laugh really hard the whole time.

And speaking of laughing really hard, my new favorite movie is, and you will not believe this: She’s the Man, starring Amanda Bynes. The whole thing is toooootally ridiculous, but so so so so funny. Amanda’s accent and facial expressions when her character Viola is pretending to be a boy are SO hilarious — I can’t explain it. And as a special treat, David Cross from Arrested Development (May it rest in peace) plays the ridiculous high school principal. There’s one scene in which he calls Viola (disguised as Sebastian) into his office and sings, “Welcome Welcome Welcome Welcome, Welcome Welcome Welcome Welcome Welcome Welcome Welcome Welcome to Ilyriaaaa!!!” At one point I had to pause the movie just because I was laughing so hard. And to add icing to the already tasty cake, if you watch the special DVD features, there’s a section where the director talks about little things from Twelfth Night they added in that you otherwise might not notice (because the movie is loosely based on that Shakespeare play, in case you didn’t know).

Aaaanyway, here’s to enjoying things, and laughing! By the way, I’m off to Chicago tomorrow for work. It’s my first business trip. Hahahaha! I’m taking a business trip! Man. I’m a grown-up.

I’ll Give YOU Back to the Community!

September 27, 2006

You know what gets on my nerves? When people say they’re going to “give back to the community.” I don’t really know why it kills me so much, but it does. I mean, do people really even live in “communities” anymore? And when they say it, do they know what they’re talking about? Any time people mention charity, they say, “I’m so glad I’ve finally gotten the opportunity to give back to the community,” or worse, “Have you been looking for a way to give back to your community?” My question is, What community? And what did it give you that you’re giving back?

Don’t get me wrong, the giving part is awesome. I love giving. Giving is good. It’s very, very good. But I don’t know, just come up with a new phrase! I’m just sick of it. I’m sick of hearing it, OK?

Another thing I’m tired of? The name Jenn. Look. I know like 25% of girls in my generation are named Jennifer. That’s not their fault, and it’s a cute name if you just listen to the sound. Apparently it was so cute in the late 70s and early 80s that people couldn’t get enough of it when naming their babies. I’ve met some nice people named Jenn, and the name itself is fine — it sounds fine; I have nothing against it. But I’m just so tired of it! Everyone’s name is Jenn! Just… just… go by Jennifer, or Jenny, or Jenna, or your middle name. Sometimes I get stressed out because I currently have no close friends named Jenn, but I know it’s bound to happen, based on odds. And when it does, I’ll have to say the name all the time. I’ll call her Jenn when talking to her, introduce her as Jenn, and discuss her as “My friend Jenn,” and the whole time I’ll still be hearing about all the other Jenns in the world. I’m going to get so tired of saying and listening the word “Jenn!” I’ll be saying it in my sleep. Please! All you Jenns out there, it’s a fine name, but it’s SO done. Go by Jennifer! Please! Just give “Jenn” back to the community — maybe the community can use it.

My Success Dress

September 20, 2006

So I have this dress, and I wore it today, and I’m starting to notice that whenever I wear this dress good things happen. Maybe it just looks good on me and makes people like me, thus leading to good things. I don’t know. But I wore it when I was on that game show, “Starface,” and I almost won and acheived my main goal of not making a fool of myself. Also, I wore it to a to a meeting with a new agent the other day, and with only one meeting, they wanted me! Yay! And this morning I wore it when I went to return those shoes I was sad about yesterday, and I tried on a half size bigger, and they felt great and did NOT make my feet look like boats!

THEN, and this kind of creeped me out, but I went into Abercrombie, and there was a girl up on a ladder in the store, and she goes, “Hi!” and I go, “Hi!” and she goes, “OH MY GOSH, YOU’RE SO PREEETTTTYYYYY! OH MY GAHHHHHSHHH!!!! OHHHHHH, WE HAD A CASTING CALL YESTERDAY FOR MAHHHHHHDELS! OHHHHH, YOU SHOULD HAVE COME!!!!” And some dudes walk by and she goes, “ISN’T SHE PRETTTTTYYYYY????? OH MY GOSH, SHE SHOULD HAVE COME TO THAT CASTING CALL!!!” And I look up at the dudes and make a face like, “I didn’t ask for this, I promise! I have no idea what this woman is on.” And as I walked quickly away I could still hear her going, “She’s so preeeeettttyyyyy!”

At first I felt suuuuuuper uncomfortable, but as I browsed I started to feel a smile on my face, and I realized, that crazy girl kind of made my day, along with the shoe thing. I mean, I know I’m not ugly, but it’s not every day a stranger who isn’t trying to sleep with me tells me I’m pretty (and boy, did she tell me). This didn’t prevent me from avoiding her like the plague on my way out, but damn, Success Dress, I’m wearing you more often!

Update: Amanda has made an excellent point in her comment below. So, here it is: The Success Dress visual. By the by, in this photo I’m braless, but since then I’ve managed to rig up a bra situation that both doesn’t show and gives me fantastic cleavage, but you’ll have to use your imagination for that part.


Shoes! Eyes! Heartbreak! (My vision hasn’t changed, though, so that’s good)

September 19, 2006

Yesterday I had an eye doctor appointment — and let me just interrupt myself here to ask you why we say “eye doctor” instead of “optometrist.” Why do we do that with eye doctors only? It’s never acceptable to say, “Aaaugh, I think I have a cavity. I’d better go to the tooth doctor!” Or, “Oooooh, yeah, that’s a sketchy mole. You should see a skin doctor ASAP.”

Anyway, so I went to the optometrist in Santa Monica, and afterwards my pupils were so dilated I was like the opposite of Little Orphan Annie, who had no pupils (see Appendix A), and decided that instead of driving home in the bright sunlight I should instead seek refuge in a nearby shoe store — for my eyes, you see. Conveniently, I had a store credit at this very store, so for the sake of my vision, I decided I’d better find something to buy.

It didn’t take me long to find these adorable specimens of footwear (They’re Rocket Dog, if you’re wondering) (God bless Rocket Dog and all that they do):


I got both colors, and the magical part is, the total was something like $68.34 (yes, for both!) and my store credit was for $68.75. I generously let the store keep the change.

I was so happy. I couldn’t wait to wear them. I planned my outfit for today around the tan ones. And then, I put them on this morning, and the left one hurt my m-f-ing toe!!!!! I guess in the store I had walked around mostly with the right one on, but I did try the left one and got no warning signs that it would hurt. The main problem is, I think they’re a little too short, and it takes my big toe and squeezes it over towards my other toes, which as you may remember, is unacceptable as it may lead to bunions, one of my greatest fears in life, along with getting taken hostage and running out of Advil.

Maybe I could get a bigger size, but I fear the next size up will be too wide, and plus, these are the kind of shoes that only look good in small sizes, and I’m pretty sure the next size will make my feet look like boats.

So I came to work today in my boring flip flops (Both flip flops and sneakers are frowned upon at my office except on Fridays, but I’m at that “whatever” stage, so whatever). And I feel totally un-cute, and my day — nay my life — is ruined forever! Scowl.

Appendix A:

Little Orphan Annie

You Guessed It!

September 15, 2006




I just want us all to start the weekend by looking at this:


And asking ourselves, What if these were our real friends’ names??? Life would be such a funnier place. Like what if I was having a party, and these are all the people I invited? This was my guest list? You’d be like, “Who are you inviting to your party?” And I’d go, “Oh, Cassidy, Walenty, Neddie, Janet, Verena, Nestore, and you.” OH, man.

OR what if this were the guest list for a wedding? I’d be like, “OK, for the seating chart, I think Walenty Wark and Nestore Bockleman should be at separate tables. They’ve both dated Cassidy Clement — but then again, who hasn’t hooked up with that floozy? And Ugh, I can’t believe Janet Manners hasn’t R.S.V.P.d yet. SO rude!

OR, What if these were our high school teachers? We’d be all, “OMG, Mr. Wark gave us soooooooo much homework tonight!”
“What! That’s nothing. You should see the project Mrs. Mullett assigned.”
“UGH, Stop whining, you guys. You guys’ve got it good. Ms. Manners gave us like the longest report ever, and you don’t even WANT to know about the pop quiz Mr. Bockleman gave today.”

Happy Friday, y’all! Oh, if you see Neddie tonight, tell him I’ll give him a call about lunch tomorrow.

Spoiler Alert: Don’t Worry, I Didn’t Die

September 13, 2006

Sometimes my life is too ridiculous to even deal with. It’s the kind of thing, if you were watching a movie about me in the movie theater you’d sink way down in your seat and partially cover your eyes, because you were just so embarrassed for me.

Sunday, for example. I woke up and realized 2 things. Thing One: my period had started, and Thing Two: I was all out of Advil. This is bad, because I have the most ridiculous cramps imaginable, and without any pain relievers I would probably consider killing myself. I know this sounds harsh, but let’s look at it this way: My worst fear about being kidnapped by refugees rebels (Why on Earth did I write “refugees?”) while traveling in a beautiful but unstable country and taken as a hostage for a year or two would not be getting beaten, raped, eaten alive by bugs, burned as a human sacrifice, etc. etc. It would be running out of pain relievers and having debilitating menstrual cramps. I think about it a lot, and I dread it. Really.

So anyway, Sunday I didn’t have any Advil, but I did find some Alleve, which doesn’t usually work as well, but I was like, “Oh, these cramps aren’t that bad, I’m sure this will be fine,” so I threw a couple of those back. Then like an hour later I was like, “Shit.” And the only other thing I had was Tylenol 3 with Codeine that I hoodwinked my doctor into giving me a prescription for a while back, and I figured what the hell, and took one of those, too. And I thought, Maybe I’ll feel better if I walk around a little bit, so I put on my sneakers and iPod and decided to walk up to the pharmacy about 10-15 mins. away and get some Advil, along with some of those Mr. Clean magic erasers to clean some pesky smudges off the walls. (Am I a walking ad right now, or what? Ahem, Someone needs to pay me for all this free advertising!) (From now on, any reference to a brand name will be accompanied by a “ding!” to signify that someone needs to give me money).

So anyway, anyway, anyway, I’m walking around Sav-On Drugs (ding!) just browsing, you know, taking my merry little time, and oh, I’d say it’s about 2pm, and all of a sudden my head felt really funny, like all the blood had just drained out of my face, and my vision got all wonky, and I knew beyond all doubt that I was about to pass out, right there in the household cleaner isle. So I squatted down on the floor and I don’t know if it was the panic or what, but then I started shaking all over, and felt hot/cold/hot/cold/oh man, I have mixed a lethal cocktail of pain relievers in my bloodstream and have only minutes to live! Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, I have to get out of here, but I have to get this Advil first, oh my goodness, there is no way I’m going to be able to walk all the way home without dying first.

So I sat it out for a while, and called my roommate (from the floor of Sav-On Drugs) (Ding!) to see if he could come pick me up.


“HI, ADAM!!!” (chipperest voice I can muster)

“Hey, what’s up, Marce?”

“ARE YOU AT HOME?!!!” (I am ever so chipper, definitely not about to die on the drugstore floor!)


“OH, OK, NEVER MIND, I’LL JUST CALL MATTHEW!!! I JUST HAD A QUESTION, BUT NO BIGGIE!!!” (I’m fine and most definitely not about to die! Sunshine! Flowers! Rainbows and puppies!!!)

(hang up. dial other roommate matthew. ring, ring, ring, ring, voicemail. hang up. thoughts a cloudy fog. call jeff. voicemail. shitshitshitshitshit).

After a minute I decided to try standing up. Maybe I’d go ask the pharmacist if perhaps I shouldn’t have taken the aforementioned combination of drugs, but there was an endlessly long line and I didn’t revel in the thought of fainting with a full audience of people. About that time Jeff called back. He was in Santa Monica but offered to come get me anyway, but I said, no, I was feeling better, and he said to go get some water, maybe I was dehydrated, and that seemed like a good idea, so I hung up and was feeling better, decided to get the Advil and water and try to walk home, and BOOM, it happened again.

So again I squatted and tried to look busy with something in my purse so as not to look like someone who was just squatting on the floor shaking all over for no reason, and a woman comes up and starts looking for something on the bottom shelf and asks me, as though I’m behaving normally, “Do you see any regular Milk of Magnesia in the normal sized bottle, or only in the big bottle?” And why wouldn’t she ask me? After all, I was eye level.

“Ummmmm, Oh, there’s some.” I must have misunderstood, because she ended up getting a giant non-regular bottle anyway. Normally I would have felt bad for being un-helpful, but at this moment I was concentrating on Not Dying. The good news here is that even though I was dizzy and shaking on the floor of the drugstore, I did and do not need to purchase a giant bottle of milk of magnesia for any reason.

Since I had nothing better to do, I called Matthew again, and this time he picked up and agreed to come get me, so I wobbled my way to the cash register to purchase my water, Advil (ding!) and Mr. Clean Magic Erasers (ding!), which I had somehow managed to still find in the midst of my dying. I went outside where it started to happen again, causing me to have to lean up against the filthy side of the building, full-on where homeless guys usually stand (I was probably infuriating some old bum by being in his turf), and then I sat down on a pipe (a horizontal one, not vertical — ouch!) and got some strange looks when passersby realized I didn’t fit the typical demographic of that particular hangout spot. While there, I called my dad, who, conveniently, is a pharmacist, and asked him if he thought I was about to die. No. He said I shouldn’t have taken all that on an empty stomach and that I just needed food and would probably live. Good news. And before long Matthew pulled up, just as my cramps were reaching an insanely painful level, and I went home and ate one of Adam’s bananas and got in bed with a Therma-Care (ding!) heat patch, and took some of the Advil (ding!) (because why not add one more type of drug to the mix?) and started feeling much, much better, and so ends the saga of me almost dying.

The End.

(Brought to you by Chiquita (ding!)) Don’t forget to eat.

Y’all, I’m too tired to be funny.

September 8, 2006

It’s Friday, and the only thing I can think of to blog about is the fact that it’s Friday. I went out last night with some friends after work, and went to bed after 12, so do you think when my supervisor called me at 5:30, over an hour before my usual waking time, while it was still dark outside, to ask me to come to work an hour early, that I was a) thrilled, or b) not thrilled, or c) all of the above.

Answer: b) Not Thrilled.

Interestingly (or, actually, not interestingly, now that I re-read this), I have been less tired than usual this week, and have been going to bed at 12 instead of my usual 11, yet waking up more refreshed. However, I have a feeling my winning streak is over. Today I’m tired, restless and irritable, and am counting the minutes (11!) until I can go to lunch! And I get to eat with my friend Virginia today, who only works on Fridays, which is a big deal, because usually we all have to stagger our lunches, and I go all by myself, every day, day in and day out, all by my lonely little self. So today Virginia and I are going to Chili’s, and I’m going to get some kind of delicious chicken with some tasty side dishes, and I would get a celebratory cocktail, but if I did I would surely fall asleep at my desk after lunch.

Sometimes when I write stuff like that I feel very much like I’m a young adult working in an office. That makes me chuckle to myself. When I got my very first office job a few years ago as a travel agent, I would walk through the office and think, “Haha, I’m in the breakroom! Hahaha!” “Haha, here I am in the mailroom! I’m making copies! Hahaha, I’m using the FedEx machine! Oh, man, this is too much.” I totally felt like the target audience for “Cosmopolitan” magazine, like in those articles they would always write about, like, “How to Avoid Nasty Office Gossip,” or “Which clothes go seamlessly from office to happy hour?” I was all, “That’s me now! Hahaha, What a hoot!”

3 years later, I have to say, a bit of the novelty has worn off, and by “a bit” I mean like 99%, but there are times I still look at myself and have a good chuckle, because I’m just such an f-ing cliche right now. I’m that girl in that movie, the tired one, sitting at her desk counting the minutes! Oh yes, that’s me! Isn’t life a lark! It’s a lark!

And now it’s time for lunch!

My Dad is Hilarious!

September 7, 2006

Here is an excerpt from an IM conversation I had with my dad the other day. But first you have to know 2 things about him. One: He is obsessed with history, to the extent that several of our family vacations in my childhood were “Civil War Vacations,” consisting entirely of traipsing through battlefields and trudging through the homes of various dead generals. Two: Whenever he writes, he loves to put quotation marks around things for no apparent reason.

me: hey dad!

dad: Marcy, Just got back from Isle of Palms. Boated out to Ft.
Sumpter, where Civil War started. Ate at Poogan’s Porch and went on Buggy Ride around Charlston. We did a lot in 4 days.

me: wow, that sounds amazing!

dad: Your mom and I got “burnt” on our 1st beach day. My legs looked like a “red flamingo’s”. When your mom took off her bikini, she looked like she still had it on.

me: hahahahaha

dad: I believe you would have enjoyed the wedding reception. they had a rock band. Carol and Marcia wanted to dance. After 4 glasses of wine, If I’d said yes, the family would have been talking about me for a decade. I’m glad I had wisdom to say Nooooooo.

me: hahahaha, yes, probably a good idea ;) but you never know, you may have wowed them all.

dad: When your mom and I went into Charlston for the wedding, we took the wrong turn off the bridge. We ended up in the “hood” of Charlston. There were some tense moments until we found St. Michaels church. Built in the early 1700’s. George Washington once visited this church. Marcia and Janet couldn’t find the bathroom and went in the church cementary before the service. Each family had their own “enclosed pew”. After the service, bells were rung to announce the marrige.

me: wow, that sounds nice
me: wait, marcia and janet peed in the cemetery?
me: they probably gave a corpse or two a rude awakening

dad: Yes, It was “crazy” just before the ceremony. Also, the cemetary is so old. Rutledge family members are burried there. (signer of constitution) Aunt Grey is afraid any one looking outside nearby office buildings saw them. They claimed they just couldn’t wait.

me: hahaha

By the way, I feel the need to point out that he said I would have enjoyed the reception because they had a “rock band.” Classic.


September 6, 2006

We interrupt our regularly scheduled programming to bring you a special report: Dan Hagen, a.k.a. the Danimal, a.k.a. the husband of Rachel Hagen, is completely insane. First, look at the lovely picture of him and his groomsmen with the rest of the wedding party. Aw.

Now click on the thumbnail to get a closer look.

Wedding party

You’ll be glad you did when you scroll down and see….. The bobblehead dolls of Dan and his groomsmen! Ahahahahaha!

Groomsmen Bobbleheads
Then, believe it or not, it gets better! If you dare, click on the link to view the bobblehead groomsmen dancing to none other than… Snakes on a Plane, of course!

View here: Bobblehead Snakes on a Plane Boogie

I’d like to point out that Dan’s bobblehad is a remarkable likeness. Here’s Dan on the left:



Dan's bobblehead


Spam-a-licious Wednesday

September 6, 2006

Wow, there is so much to cover with you, I guess I’ll jump right in. Lots of big news today! Well, here goes:

One, I want to point out that in the future, time travel is apparently possible and used often. I say this because several people have emailed me from the future to approve loans I applied for! What’s great is that even if it takes 32 years to approve my loan, someone from the future can just email me here in the present, so it seems like no time has passed! It’s like the most efficient form of inefficency. Blows your mind, right?!!!


Apparently it is also really easy to get a loan in the year 2038, folks, so that’s good news! Everyone from Cherokee Indians to Carneys to Princes to the religion of Hinduism to aliens with unpronouncible names have approved loans for me! Man, I can’t wait for the future! I sure won’t have to worry about messing with the dumb old bank to get my mortgage loan!

Another exciting tidbit: Martin Ginsburg, husband of the kick-ass Ruth Bader Ginsburg, has emailed me regarding PHmlARMACY, not to be confused with PHARziMACY, PHARseMACY, or Aingeru Hackworth’s PHARgeMACY. I like Aingeru; she’s a Hufflepuff. A little slow on the uptake, if you don’t mind my saying so, but aren’t they all, just a little? Oh, those lovable Hufflepuffs. Primitiva Pigott, on the other hand, is a Slytherin, and a nasty one at that. I don’t know where she gets off emailing me. She hangs around with Millicent Bullstrode and Pansy Parkinson, and knows full well Pansy and I don’t get along. Ugh, that girl’s got some nerve!

In other news, Pen Salazar is thrilled, and an athiest crocodile has somehow gotten my email address.

The White Witch of Narnia Should Lose the Dreadlocks, but at Least She Knows Not to Follow Dumb Fashion Rules

September 4, 2006

So today was Labor Day, and yesterday morning at the grocery store I saw a woman in the parking lot wearing white from head to toe. White top, pants, shoes, bag, everything. It took me a minute to figure it out, but then I suddenly realized she must be wearing every bit of her summer white, sort of as one last hurrah before Labor Day, when it would become frowned upon. What a brilliant maneuver! I wish I had thought of that.

I’ve heard from multiple sources, though, that the white after Labor Day rule is antiquated. That’s good, because I never paid attention to it anyway. Especially in warm climates, it seems dumb to not wear cool white on a sizzling hot day just because it’s after a certain date in September.

I think maybe tomorrow I’ll wear all white to work and see if anyone makes any dumb jokes about it being after Labor Day. Then I’ll teach them a lesson by pointing out that that rule no longer applies. Boy, will they be sorry they messed with me!