We interrupt this regularly scheduled blog to say, OH my gosh, I HATE it when I overhear someone at work, particularly my boss, saying my name, and that’s all I hear. It sounds like the parents from the Peanuts cartoon until I hear my name, like, “Mwa wah, mwah wah wah Marcy mwah wah wah wah,” and my ears perk up, but it’s too late. Yarrrgh.

Joanna and Jay, your requests and dedications are coming soon, but first we must discuss how I drove my roommate’s newish SAAB to work today while my oldish Mazda is in the shop, and how I am now spoiled forever.

I shall discuss some points of the newish SAAB and also some items regarding my oldish Mazda.

First, so as not to hurt my Mazda’s feelings, I would like to give it props for having a V-6 engine and being very powerful, and also providing a notably smooth ride for both driver and passenger. Also, I enjoy the way I can adjust my seat up to the tiniest minutia with the automatic and user-friendly seat adjusting buttons, one of which is shaped like a peanut, which I find charming. And finally, my Mazda has a great-sounding stereo system.

However: Within mere seconds of turning on the SAAB this morning, my butt began to feel cozy and warm, due to the amazing seat warming device. Today was the coldest morning in a while, but my warm butt made me feel snuggly and contented, like a cat in the sun. Also, the reason my Mazda is in the shop is because it’s doing this lurching thing when going from idling to moving, and it’s getting super annoying. The SAAB, on the other hand, zips along powerfully yet shifts smoothly in all gears. Thirdly, the SAAB smells like new leather and refinement, and conjures images of smoking jackets and mint juleps on the veranda, whereas my Mazda smells like dirty socks, invoking visions of… dirty socks.

In conclusion, I like refinement and warm buns, and therefore must get a new car STAT.

Last night I dreamt I looked in the mirror and realized I had a giant Frida Kahlo-style unibrow, and that I had just bridesmaided in my sister’s wedding with said brow, and that she had been trying to tell me but didn’t want to hurt my feelings. I was horrified that I would be in all of her wedding photos looking like Bert on Sesame Street.

I imagine I had this dream because I’ve been trying to pluck my own brows rather than pay the small fortune that my waxing lady is now charging, and while I am far from having a unibrow, my eyebrows are decidedly less neat than they were before. Apparently I’m feeling insecure about it.

Speaking of eyebrows, aren’t they funny? I was just looking at this photo, and I was looking at all of our eyebrows, and suddenly they seemed so hilarious and out of place, like when you say the word “squash” or some such word over and over until it loses all meaning and just makes you giggle. Giggle is another word you can do that with, and if we’re being honest, I actually really hate that word, and I’m not sure why. But there’s really no other English word that means the exact same thing as giggle, so I’m forced to use it. Ick. I think I would like it more if it were a nerdy science word, like, “Norbert, please pass me 10.5 giggles of glycometamorphic acid.”

But I digress. We’re talking about eyebrows, and who here watched/watches Arrested Development? In my opinion, this was the most creative, ingenius, and hilarious show that has ever been on TV, and I TiVo all the reruns that play on a mysterious channel called G4 (who knew?), and it’s pretty much all I feel like watching anymore; that and The Office. Well, there’s this one character, Stan Sitwell, who has a condition called Alopecia, whereby he is unable to grow hair anywhere on his body. First of all, Lucille, the matriarch, at one point says something like, “Of course he’s bald; he’s an alpaca!” And Michael (the adorable and brilliant Jason Bateman) corrects her. But in another episode, Michael’s brother Gob steals Stan Sitwell’s “dress eyebrows,” and is later wearing them, and Michael goes, “Are you wearing Stan Sitwell’s eyebrows???” And Gob sighs, all dejected-like, “They make me feel more dressy,” or something. Anyway, you probably had to see it, but it cracks my shit up.

Maybe for Christmas I’ll treat myself to an eyebrow wax. And speaking of Christmas, I promised Rachel I’d blog about my Christmas plans, so here goes! I will be in L.A., where there will be NO traffic, and it will be wonderful. Last year on Christmas Day Jeff and I took pictures of Beverly Blvd. There was one car behind us, and NOBODY in front of us, as far as the eye could see. It was a Christmas miracle.

This year two of my roommates and I will be home, along with a couple guests. I decorated the house last night, and I guess you could call the decor “tacky-chic,” although that wasn’t exactly what I was going for. But… hey, at least it’s Christmassy. BTW, if anyone knows where I can find colored lights on a white cord, please let me know, b/c I’ve been all over the country looking for them, and right now my hip white tree has lights with a green cord, and it looks pretty un-hip.

Soooo, our shiny 99-cent store stockings are hung by the chimney (front window) with care, and we’re going to have a big home-cooked prime rib dinner on Christmas Eve. My roommate Adam is cooking the prime rib, and maybe I’ll make mashed potatoes and/or sweet potato casserole. Then Jeff and I might go to a midnight mass, which is actually at 10:30, if we can drag ourselves off the couch. Christmas Day will probably be pretty uneventful, and will likely involve watching DVDs and eating stuff all day.

So those are my plans, and I’m pretty thrilled. I’ve got Friday off, and my usual Monday, so I plan to have as much relaxing fun as possible on my 4-day weekend. And if Santa doesn’t bring me a unibrow, I’ll consider it a success.

Merry Christmas, y’all!

Boy, it’s been far too long since I’ve posted a blentry. Lately I’ve had a bad case of blogger’s block. The ideas just aren’t a-flowin’ like they used to. I guess it’s because I’ve been keeping busy with my improv classes and whatnot.

I looked at my blog today and realized my blogroll has mysteriously disappeared. Wait, now it’s there. And now it’s not. What the… I vaguely remember noticing it was missing a while ago, then quickly forgetting again — So sorry to those of you that used to be on there and aren’t anymore, because nobody is, because there isn’t one. Or is there? I’ll try to figure out what the deal is and fix it as soon as I can, but I’m warning you, I am not great at code. I really should be using a free, “idiot-proof” blogging platform like I used to, but no, I got all over-acheiverly all over the place, and selfishly wanted my own domain name. How I ever managed to install WordPress in the first place I will never know, and how I even installed the theme that made it look pretty is another mystery. I’m real proud of myself for doing that all by myself, but we’ll see how I do with the whole “troubleshooting” thing.

Speaking of technology, the reason there have been no new photos in a while is a sad one indeed. My sister came to visit the other weekend, and we were walking on the Santa Monica pier and asked a stranger to take our picture. The stranger then dropped my camera right onto the pier, and the zoom lens got all bendy, and nothing works anymore. I took it to a camera repair shop who told me it will be $150 to fix it, which is $145 more than I had hoped, and I’m really unsure what to do, because I love that camera, but at the same time there were a couple small things I didn’t like about it, so maybe I should just get a new one. But I’m trying to be good and save money, something that, as a rule, I’m not very good at, because I like things, and doing things. So instead I’m doing nothing, awash in an all-too familiar sea of indecision.

Hey, I’ve got an idea! This will be new and unprecedented for this blog. I’ll take blopic requests! If there is a topic you’d like me to write about, please leave a comment, or email me, and I will write about it! (if I want to). Also, if you’d like a drawing of anything, please request that also, or instead. And if you’d like to dedicate it to someone, Casey Kasem style, include that as well. I’ll give you an example. “Marcy, I would like a blentry about socks. I would also like you to include a drawing of a toaster, and please dedicate the drawing to my neighbor, Martha Gentry.”

And, GO!

Wow, Christine, what is a feathery bootleg? Is it like a bootlegged CD? And what are the feathers for? Wait, no, you know what? Don’t even tell me; just send me one. Whatever is is, I want it.

Nope, sorry, Nettie, it’s still Wednesday. Hang in there.

No thanks, Wilda, I’m fine as a member of the middle class. OK, OK, I know, there really is no middle class anymore, especially not in L.A. I heard all about it on NPR. But poverty? Nah, you can do it if you want to, but it’s just not my bag. What? Oh, I said, “not my bag.” It’s an expression from the ’70s, I think. It means it’s really just not my thing. No, I don’t know where it came from… you know what, Wilda? I just don’t want to do poverty, OK? Why would I if I don’t have to? I work hard for my money! Geez, get off my back.

And NO, Ruairi, didn’t you hear me tell Nettie?! Calm down and be patient! It’s 6:44; we get to leave work in 16 minutes, then we’ve just got Thursday and Friday. I don’t know what you’ve got your knickers in a bunch for. Just settle right on down! Sheesh!!!!

Poor Sean Preston. He’s so cute!

I know. He can’t possibly have inherited any intelligence whatsoever.

(pause)

At least he’ll inherit some money.

Last night I went out with some new friends from my improv class. We went to a bar in Hollywood called the Pig & Whistle, and the theme of the evening was “Frat Night.” I guess we were supposed to feel like we were at a frat party, but the only thing even remotely fratty was the fact that they kept giving us free jello shots. Otherwise, we all agreed it was unlike and more fun than any frat party we’d ever been to in college. The DJ didn’t even play a single Dave Matthews song.

Well… after we’d each had a drink and a couple jello shots, the buzz kicked in and three of us found ourselves heatedly discussing which one of us was whiter: my friend Virginia or me. We were both adament about not being declared the whitest of the bunch, which is totally retarded now that I think of it, because, well… all three of us are… white. I initially thought I would be the whitest, and Virginia decided that since she was half Catholic that made her less white. But I said republicans are whiter than democrats, and her parents are both avid republicans, whereas my dad is a democrat and my mom doesn’t seem to really give a wet rat’s ass about politics. Then I threw in that my mom, though white herself, grew up in a third-world Latin American country and speaks fluent Spanish, and I scored some major non-white points with that. Then our friend Josh told us each to say “For Shizzle,” and I won that one, too, even though Virginia added “my nizzle.” She did get some points for that, but not enough, and she was deemed the whitest — at least for the evening. Then we started dancing, but we forbade Josh to analyze our dancing skills in relation to our whiteness, because you can’t dance when someone is analyzing you.

Now that we’ve cleared that up, you may be wondering why you should be thanking me. Really this only applies to you if you live in L.A., so sorry to those of you that are like, “Yaaawwwwnnn, Marcy, this blentry is soooooo boring, give me a break, for crying out loud, I don’t live in L.A. and I don’t caaaare about the parking there.” BUT. Those of you who do, I took one for the team last night. I keep asking everyone about parking in loading zones at night, and everyone goes, “I know the yellow ones are fine after six, but I’m not sure about the white ones.” Nobody knew! Now, I’ve parked in the white ones before and not gotten a ticket, so I thought maybe they were all cool at night. Not so. Yellows only. It’s $35 if you park in a white for more than five minutes (yes, I’m talking about “whites” again). So don’t do it. See? You’re welcome.

Three Whities: Me, Virginia, Erin

Happy Weekend! I’m going to Disneyland tomorrow! Yaaaaaaaay!