Archive for November 29, 2006

There’s a Reason They’re Called “The Golden Years”!

November 29, 2006

Y’all, I can’t wait to retire! I know this is weird, but I get really excited when I think about it. It’s not even about not working anymore, although that will be sweet. I just think it will be rad to live in a retirement community with a bunch of other “active seniors.” I’m talking about the kind in Florida that’s a little community of really nice condos and well-manicured lawns, where everyone rides around on golf carts. We’ll all get up at 6 AM and play tennis every day, then lounge by the pool until lunchtime, then drink sweet tea and play cards and brag about our grandchildren’s acheivements until 4, then go to the cafeteria at 4:30 to catch the early bird special. I want to sit on the screened-in porch with my girlfriends on our tacky-chic white wicker beach furniture and talk about the strapping young gardener’s muscles, or even the nice butt on the widower down the street.

I don’t know, I just think it’s gonna be awesome. Peers, let’s all move to the same retirement community when we hit 70. Who’s with me?

Warning: So Cute You Might Get a Headache

November 17, 2006

I shamelessly stole this photo right off Cute Overload. But it’s too cute not to go on my blog right this very second. His caption on Cute Overload is “Teeny Tank Ted.” AWWWWWW! This little guy pulls some SERIOUS weight in the Babies vs. Puppies debate. Also, check out the bonus in the photo, which is the guy’s ’80s braided bracelet. I remember when my sister had one of those in ’88, and it was, like, totally rad.


Speaking of cute things, I met a dude last night who does NOT LIKE PANDA BEARS. Yes, you read that correctly. This person, I can only assume, is an evil robot in a human’s body, and I told him as much, although I had only just met him. Hey, he needed to know. And speaking of pandas, Eric sent me this video, and Wan put it on her blog that same day, and if you haven’t seen it you need to. Now. Do it. You won’t be sorry.

I Want Something

November 16, 2006

Lately there’s been something swimming around in my brain. Something I’ve heard about before but kind of forgot about, or didn’t pay much attention to. But I keep hearing it, and I’m starting to think it makes a lot of sense. It has to do with the power of want. Wanting something is the first step towards getting it. And if you keep focusing your mind on getting it, usually you will. That’s the theory, anyway. It’s something about energy, and changing the energy around us — weird invisible spooky energy stuff we don’t think much about. But we should, because it can change our lives.

Well, I want something really badly. It took me way too long to realize just how badly I want it, but I know now, and that’s the first step to getting it. So for the sake of getting what I want, I’m going to announce it. On the internet. I feel really silly, but I’m doing it, and if you all could take a second to think about me doing this thing I want — just one second, or longer if you want to — I would be forever grateful.

I want to be an actor. On TV. On a brilliant comedy show, like The Office or Arrested Development. I watch those shows over and over, and I know I was made to be on a show like that. So, I’m asking you to please just take a moment to picture me walking on the set of one of those shows, if you’re familiar with them. Picture me walking in, in character, taking off my jacket, and talking to one of the other characters, preferably saying something hilarious. If you don’t know those particular shows, just picture me on your favorite one, or even just showing up on your TV screen, waving and laughing and saying, “I DID IT! I’M ON TV!”

I think some people look at acting as a selfish job, because it’s so fun. I kind of used to think so, too. But now I realize it’s exactly the opposite. We all have a responsibility to do what we enjoy most, because only then can we be happy and whole, and until we’re whole, we can’t share parts of ourselves with others. Or something like that. I just want to get up every day and feel excited about going to work. I want to laugh a lot, every day, and be a part of creating something I’m proud of. I want to feel like I’m part of something that makes other people laugh, something people can relate to.

This is something I want, and I’m admitting it. I might fail. It might never happen. But I’m not going to pretend I don’t want it, because I do. I know I’m good enough, and I know it’s possible. And now I’ve got at least a second of your focused, positive energy in my corner, and I won’t be surprised if something happens sooner than we think, thanks to you.

In conclusion, since this post has been all about me, if you want something, leave a comment or email me, and I’ll picture you doing it, or getting it — as long as it has nothing to do with killing puppies.

No Ass Chai Need Apply

November 15, 2006

Last week after reading this blentry, my friend Virginia brought me this:


I am happy to report it is completely ass free, as advertised.

Too X-Treme

November 10, 2006

Pop open a can of Mountain Dew, Ladies, because it’s time for X-TREME HAIR REMOVAL!


I’m pissed off. The topic? Bikini wax expectations. This is a relatively new thing, as in something that seems to have arisin within the last decade, and I’m not sure who exactly I have to thank for it. And by “thank” I mean kick in the nuts.

I’ve done a little research, and have come up with this conclusion. In America right now, having a brazilian bikini wax (which I call “X-Treme Hair Removal”) is as standard and socially required as shaving your legs. And I say FUCK THAT. You know why? Because it fricking hurts, that’s why. And it’s also recockulously expensive. Last time I went to get my bikini and eyebrows done, the total was a whopping $87 smackers. Can I afford that every 3 weeks, along with everything else? Hell, no, and even if I could, out of principle I don’t want to.

Look. I’m not saying we should all be running around with a 1970s bush going on. I am a stickler for hygene and grooming. And I’m not one to go against the crowd on issues of what’s expected of me regarding my personal appearance. Call me a conformist, but I imagine it would be tough to be known as “’70s Bush Girl.” But come on, throw us a fricking bone. As if women don’t have enough to feel bad about, now we have to be paranoid about that??? “Oh no, I’m between bikini waxes, I’m going to be judged, and so-and-so is going to be all grossed out!” WTF??? COME ON!!!!

If men did it too I could maybe wrap my head around it. I already think men should shave their armpits. Armpit hair is disgusting on both men and women, so Get on that, Men. But for me, it’s great if a guy just trims “down there.” Just so it’s not all over the place. I think if any man holds a woman to a certain waxing standard, he should have to go get that exact type of wax done once, just once, and let’s all sit back and see how quickly his expectations will change. The first time he hands someone a 50-dollar bill to rip all the hair off his balls, he’ll think twice about complaining about his date’s between-wax status. And he’ll probably also cry a little.

This rule hurts not only women, but men also. My research has concluded that women everywhere are too scared to hook up with anyone if we aren’t fresh from the salon. We’ll be too embarrassed to admit the real reason, so we’ll make something up. Men will feel rejected, and we’ll feel sad, like we’ve let ourselves down and let him down, because this is just one more expectation we can’t live up to.

Plus, this is one more thing on our plates, making us busier than ever, making MEN have to wait for us (and complain about waiting, and make jokes on sitcoms about it) while we try to alter ourselves so we’ll be accepted by society. Makeup, high heels, hair removal all over the place — We get it. We’re not OK as we are. What’s next? God only knows.

Who made this rule, and who is enforcing it? Someone tell me. I’m not saying it’s only men — Women are huge enforcers of beauty standards. But I have a feeling this originated with porn, and the fact that porn dictates how I’m expected to look makes me sick.

If you are reading this and you are a man, or have insight into what men think about this, please comment, because I need to know! Is it really a big deal for men, or do women just think it is?

And if you’re someone who might someday ever want to date me, and if you expect me to get XTreme Hair Removal, get out your wallet. ‘Cause you’re paying for it.


UPDATE: As of 4:36 PM, I am feeling slightly better about this topic. After reading this blentry, a male friend conducted some of his own independent research, and 5 out of 5 male subjects stated that while they do think X-Treme Hair Removal is nicer than Standard Hair Removal, the issue is never a deal breaker.


UPDATE #2, 5:59 PM: I have had a spirited IM conversation with Eric, who has brought up an excellent point. This is perhaps more of an L.A. trend than a National one. I would like to hear from someone in another state, please. Do you feel this same type of pressure? Also per said conversation, I have decided to veer from all tradition and simply shave it into the shape of a tiny Care Bear. Instead of the Care Bear Stare it will be the Care Bear Hair!

It’s Thursday Again. Last Week We Had One of These, Too.

November 9, 2006

I have a chest cold. So does everyone in my whole office. I’m coughing up gross green stuff.

I bought a cannister of chai tea on my lunch break, but it tastes like ass. Below is an IM conversation about it:

me: ugh, i just got a big cannister of chai from TJs and it tastes like ass
co-worker: ass chai?
me: yes, i thought it was vanilla but i guess it was ass
co-worker: damn, i always get those confused
me: me too


I woke up with a crink in my neck, and it’s still there. It’s so hard to drive with one of those going on, because you have to swivel your whole body to check your blind spot before merging. My morning commute is packed full of well-strategized merges, after careful study to determine which lane is fastest per every 20-meter stretch of road. But my rhythm was all off this morning because of the neck thing, and I got caught in the slow lane for a handful 20-meter chunks.


On my lunch break after I bought the ass chai at the market (I’ve always said “grocery store,” but “market” sounds more friendly to me, so I officially change my vocabulary, starting NOW), I went to the bookstore (OK, Barnes & Noble, but “the bookstore” sounds more cute and local, so let’s pretend).

Two things we need to discuss here. #1: Do you know how many Chicken Soup for the Soul books there are? Like a hundred million billion. There’s a Chicken Soup for the Cat Lover’s Soul, a Chicken Soup for the Dog Lover’s Soul, and even… a Chicken Soup for the Cat and Dog Lover’s Soul. Because you don’t just love cats or just love dogs, you love both, and your soul needs some very, very specific chicken soup. My favorite, though, is the one called Chicken Soup for the Scrapbooker’s Soul. I am not making this up. Since when does someone who makes scrapbooks need inspirational quotes about… making scrapbooks? I think if someone’s main sense of identity is that of a “scrapbooker,” well… their soul is gonna need a lot more than chicken soup.

#2: How did the Sedarises get all the funny in the USA? They are all SO Funny! I’ve always been a giant fan of David’s writing and Amy’s acting, and today in the cute family-run bookstore (we’re playing pretend, remember?) I saw a big, purty hardcover book Amy wrote called I Like You: Hospitality Under the Influence. Just flipping through and looking at the pictures of her made me laugh aloud.


Yesterday a butterfly was chasing another butterfly outside my window at work. I work on the 10th floor, so it was kind of weird that they were up so high. I think they were playing a mating game. Maybe they flew up that high to try and get some privacy from the other butterfles. I guess they don’t mind if humans watch.

Speaking of my office window, sometimes a bird comes and sits on the windowsill and chirps to get my attention. And the minute I go, “Awwww, looook, Hi, Birdie!” he poops and flies away.


And Finally, Go Democrats! Go Britney! I think of the nation as a big ship that hit something and got jostled over kind of on its side, and all the furniture and people went skittering over all out of whack, but now, with the Dems taking over congress and Britney dumping K-Fed and washing her hair, the ship has popped back upright, and all the crew are dusting themselves off and returning the furniture back to where it goes, and the passengers are headed back to the bar for another cocktail, because whew, we thought the boat was sinking there for a while, and we’re still a little shaken, but it looks like the captain finally sobered up and we’re all going to be OK.

I may procrastinate, but I care

November 3, 2006

OK, Californians. The election is Tuesday, and we have a whole nipseyrussell* of propositions to wade through. It’s confusing enough to make a person not want to vote. But please please vote! Because if you don’t, someone else will, and chances are, that person has his or her head up his or her ass. Nathan has posted a list of propositions he has opinions on, and why, and I think his list is informative and well-thought-out.

The tricky thing with many of the propositions on the ballot is, they look like they’re good at first look, but there’s so much more involved that there could be sneaky little bad things in there as well. Also, many of them are bonds, meaning the state is borrowing money from taxpayers, causing the state to be in further debt. It’s the way the government does business, and it’s bad business if you ask me — just plain illogical — but that’s another blentry for another time. Meanwhile, let’s focus on this adorable little election coming up on Tuesday, and let’s vote our little hearts out.

Whether or not you have time to read all the propositions, I encourage you read this post of Nathan’s, at least as a basis for your own research.

*That’s Ellen DeGeneres’s term, BTW, although I wish it were mine, and of course, some credit is due to Nipsey Russell‘s parents for coming up with such a brilliant name.

Have You Missed It?

November 3, 2006

Then it’s your lucky day, because it’s


Friday! BTW, I found that picture on Google images. Isn’t it great? Click on the thumbnail for the full effect. But anyway, on to business. I’ve gotten a lot of amazing email since the last Spam Friday. Let’s discuss:


First, David Sanders needs to learn how to pronounce his R’s. He’s trying to warn me about a catastrophe, but I can’t stop laughing at his accent long enough to pay attention. I mean, who can take that seriously? I’m not trying to be mean, but David, if you’re reading this, you might want to consider taking a speech class.

Now this one really caught my attention: Jeffrey will be paralized with atomic generators? Who wrote this? Someone from the future? Are they talking about the Jeffrey we know and love? I seriously hope not. I mean, how do they know that? And what are these atomic generators of which they speak? I’d sure like some more info. on that. Do you think this could be the catastwophe David was trying to warn me about? I’m sorry, I’m giggling again. Sorry David. I just can’t help it. Seriously, man, take a speech class.

No, Earl, it’s dead people. You see dead people.

I guess there’s a new store in town called ITEMS OF INTEREST City. It kind of reminds me of a big discount store that used to be in Asheville called Sky City. And I can’t think of Sky City without remembering the awful evening in 6th grade when my mom and I were in Sky City buying me my first ever bras, and we ran into my 6th grade teacher, Mrs. Harter. Now looking back, I’m 100% sure Mrs. Harter probably didn’t even notice or care about the AA-cup white cotton bra with a rainbow stripe around the bottom that my mom was waving around while they were talking, but at the time, I had never felt so embarrassed in all of my twelve years of existence. Except maybe the year before in 5th grade when we were playing kickball in P.E. and I was on the outfield team guarding 3rd base, but I spaced out, as I am prone to do, and forgot which team I was on, and when someone kicked the ball I ran home. But that’s another story for another time. Or maybe I just told you the whole story anyway. But anyway, my point is, ITEMS OF INTEREST City might be pretty cool, or it might be pretty lame. Because my items of interest could be different from your items of interest, you know? If it were called “Marcy’s ITEMS OF INTEREST City” it would be totally awesome. It would stock lots and lots of cute clothes, shoes, books, Harry Potter merchandise including invisibility cloaks, bikes, tap shoes and dance wear just in case I start doing that again, plays and screenplays, DVDs of all my favorite TV shows and movies, tasty healthy hot food, ice cream, beach towels, an arts & crafts section, and a mini Ikea wing. Oh, and lots of cute, friendly, happy, healthy puppies, and various other cute furry things. Of course.

Anyway, back on topic. Dona Shafer wants me to go compromise, and to that I say, “Pooh Pooh!” and thumb my nose. I mean, don’t get me wrong; compromise is good in many instances, but I’m not about to compromise my dreams and goals, as I think she is suggesting, because frankly I don’t trust her motives. I’ll just leave it at that.

Roderick Herring is referring to himself as a jockstrap dignitary, and isn’t that just like him? He’s all, “Hey, I’m a dignitary, and I’m wearing a jockstrap.” Oh, Roderick.

Katrine Salas wants to sell me a claustrophobia fiddle. I called her and asked her to expound on what exactly that does, and she said you carry it wherever you go, and whenever you start feeling claustrophobic you start playing it and it makes you feel better. I asked her if any old fiddle would do the same thing, and she said no, this one is special, but she wouldn’t tell me why. I think it might be a rip-off, but I’m still trying to research it, because if it is a special fiddle I know some claustrophobic people who might really benefit from it. I don’t think I’ll be stocking any claustrophobia fiddles in Marcy’s ITEMS OF INTEREST City, though.

Finally, Gwendolyn Ayala has created a music compilation for her stepmother. She shared it with me because I DON’T KNOW WHY. Gwen and I aren’t really even good friends, but whatever. Maybe she copied me on the email by mistake. I will tell you that Gwendolyn’s stepmother must really like Celine Dionne, that’s all I’m saying.

Happy Friday, Peeps!