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and in other news... What I Want for Christmas Day 207: 'Cause Silicone Parts Are Made For Toys Wiped Out Crap On Toast "To Serve Man" Day 358: It's Official! Get Yer Kicks I Have Only One Word for You. Can't Sleep, Taking Tests New Toys other stuff: buy stuff i designed my flickr page forgotten new york frellyheck chinh loobylu jakwon tof reknin 63 days heart and mind obscure store dooce oddy-knocky natruallycurly.com knitty TRIPPYswell RSS Feed www.flickr.com
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What I Want for Christmas
Saturday, December 06, 2008 Well, aside from wishing that Christmas was over and done with and to be well on our way to spring, I would like something incredibly insane. Such as this: Our friends have the 52 incher and watching it was a revelation. It was like I took a swig of that funky Mexican mushroom brew from "Altered States". Before everything was absolutely ordinary, blah really, but after -- WOAH! I was seeing cavemen running through the zoo, chowing down on unsuspecting sheep. Okay, that's a little bit of an exaggeration, but I swear this TV is better than spending thirty-six hours straight in an isolation tank. It kicks my little 15" faux-wood grained cathode ray tube in its UHF-knobbed butt. Maybe when Santa delivers the new boob tube he can also drop off a copy of this: I have a feeling Stringer Bell is even sexier in HD. Oh! And seeing Omar's soulful eyes with unprecedented clarity will add even more pathos to the moving tragedy of his inner-city-Robin-Hood existence. Or perhaps I will have to save my pennies for this: I guess I will have a lot of time to save my pennies for this, since it hasn't been released yet and we don't even own a Blu-Ray plyer, but one can dream of the day I can watch every drop of sweat roll down Viggo's gorgeous face. Or maybe I'll just wait until it's on Netflix. Labels: Christmas, LotR, presents, TV posted at 3:43 PM . link to this post .   .
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I have the Samsung 52" DLP with 1080p, and I can assure you, their TVs are really fantastic.
By Day 207: 'Cause Silicone Parts Are Made For Toys Tuesday, July 15, 2008  Despite $80 in alterations, the bridesmaid dress I have to wear in two weeks still doesn't fit in one very important area, that dry stretch of flatlands between my clavicles and waist. Normally, I don't care about my meager endowments. Having a small chest means I practically never have to wear a bra, which is a good thing in my humble opinion. I don't have to deal with slipping straps or pinching, poking underwires. I also save a lot of money whenever I go to Victoria's Secret, seeing as how the only thing I buy there is underwear. In total, I own five bras: two lightly padded underwire t-shirt bras that I hardly ever wear, two no-wire bras that haven't seen this side of my top dresser drawer in ages, and one 3rd degree pushup, super-padded, actually-honest-to-god-gives-me-cleavage Wonderbra that I'm pretty sure my Aunt Jeanne designed. This last is the bra I wore to the fitting and the only thing I currently own that would have a snowball's chance in hell to fill out the ridiculously large bodice of this particular dress. Unfortunately, it's nude. However, the seamstress declared it worked, even though she still wanted to sew cups into the dress, ostensibly so I wouldn't need an airbag should we get into an flaming car wreck on the way to the ceremony. posted at 6:41 PM . link to this post . .
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1 Comments:
As a male I read this post intrigued because it starts out talking about breasts! But I got confused halfway thru...
By Wiped Out Wednesday, May 28, 2008 Today was my grandma's funeral, so basically we've been running around Brooklyn since the crack of dawn. First we took a cab to the funeral home to say goodbye, then off to Our Lady of Refuge where my brothers and I went to Catholic school when we were kids. I don't know why it's done, probably some superstitious reason, but we usually swing past the house on the way to church, but we were late, so we went directly to the church, which bothered me. I mean, my grandma wanted to be buried with a huge bag full of rosary beads, the least we could do was take an extra minute to drive by the house. It was on the way for Christ's sake. Anyway, Father Perry, who I only know from the various funerals I've attended in the past few years, did a very beautiful service, wherein he mentioned my grandmother's out of this world meatballs and I cried my face off. Then we were off to Green-wood, where we had to actually wait on line to get in there were so many funerals today. Someone ahead of us had a floral memorial deliverd on the back of a snazzy black El Camino. It was in the shape of an ace of hearts. Inveterate gambler, perhaps? Mafia kingpin? Who knows. We wound our way to one of our family plots and said some prayers (three Hail Mary's and one Our Father) then bid grandma farewell. I will, of course, be back. I'm the only person in my family who is able to follow the map to visit my Aunt Marietta's plot (which is now Aunt Nay's too) on the other side of the cemetery, so I always accompany my Aunt Jeanne to do the Christmas flowers. I have a lot of family in Green-Wood. My Grandpa, Uncle Mikey, Aunt Marietta, Aunt Nay and now Grandma. Uncle Nino is in a different cemetery in Queens. I was upset years ago when Aunt Jeanne first got the plots for her family, because I was sad they would all be together and then where would I go? I have since decided to be cremated, tossed into a Ralph's coffee can and be shaken over Pacific ocean some windy day. Just kidding about the Pacific ocean, but I do not want to by buried. In fact, I do not want to be embalmed or "laid out" or "viewed" or any of that stuff. I can't stand my family's old school Italian way of dealing with death. I hate open caskets. No one ever looks right and sometimes the image of their final rest becomes a hideous recurring thought to me. I try not to look at them. It's too emotional. And I get disturbed by the inconsistencies of their appearance. Aunt Nay didn't look like Swoozie Kurtz and have a big bust in real life, why did she have to look like that in death? And Aunt Marietta wasn't a redhead when she was alive. I had a hard time recognizing her at all. Grandma looked all wrong. It was just so wrong to see her in there, not moving around, not saying how much she loves me, then yelling at me because I never visit (even though I'd seen her just three days before) then confiding I was her favorite, but shhhhh! don't tell anyone! I've been to other funerals or wakes or memorial services that were so much nicer in my mind. A friend's father died and he was in a pine box next to a podium and friends and family all spoke and told stories about him in turn. It was lovely. Kyle's brother had a similar wake. He was a contractor, so they family had put out some of his tools and business cards, things he used every day and were a part of his life, and there were several bulletin boards with pictures from al the stages of his life, so you could see him as a child, a teenager with long rocker hair, a young married man with two baby girls, a loving father in a flannel shirt on the porch of his farmhouse with his kids and wife. It was so sweet and moving. My family doesn't do any of that. And from what I can gather, if you're not Italian-American, you might not know the horrors of "our kind" of proceedings. It gives me the creeps. A couple of weeks after my Aunt Nay's funeral, I wen to Madam Tussaud's Wax Museum with my mom and I nearly ran back out because I felt like I was surrounded by the reanimated corpses of famous people who had escaped their open caskets and were slowly coming to get me, in classic zombie-movie fashion. Simply dreadful. But at least we don't do three day wakes any more. Those were torture. When we finally got home 6, I fell into bed and passed out until 10. I woke up with a whopping headache, which I was afraid was the beginning of a migraine until I realized it was actually a hangover headache from the vodka and pineapple I had at Michael's Restaurant after the graveside service. We always have parties at Michael's. My grandma's 80th birthday party and her 95th. My engagement/shower/wedding party (since we eloped to Vegas) was at Michael's. And of course, all the funeral parties. We also eat dinner there on a regular basis. It's a real old school place with Italian waiters, run by an Italian family, their pasta is very good and best of all, they have valet parking. And they all know my grandma, so everyone was very sympathetic. Anyway, I guzzled my drink on an empty stomach and spent half the afternoon drunk and stuffing my face with bread and butter, pizza bread, olives, salad, penne alla vodka, and a few bites of dried out pork. I shoulda gotten the chicken. Oh well. Then we had coffee and pastries. After that we went back to grandma's house, where I was ready to find a quiet empty room and nod off, but that didn't happen. A few hours later we left and my mom and brothers dropped us off and I took the nap this missive started with. So now, here I sit, it's midnight. I took half a sleeping pill in the hopes that I will be able to fall asleep again soon. I could really use some more sleep. Really and truly. posted at 8:51 AM . link to this post . .
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Oh my... I'm so sorry. My deepest sympathies, Angela. *huggggz*
By
Thank you Jeff.
By Crap On Toast Saturday, January 19, 2008  Ten more days till jury duty. Oh, how I do not want to go. Why does it seem like some people never get called, whereas I'm summoned like clockwork, the dreaded document lurking in my mailbox four years and one day after the last time I served? Yeah, yeah, it's my civic duty, I should be honored to serve on a jury, I'd like smart people such as myself sitting in judgement of me if I pushed someone in front of an incoming G train, blah blah blah. It still doesn't make up for the fact I have to be at the courthouse at the ungodly hour of 8:30 AM and that the Kings County Court House sucks. The last time I was there I spent all of two minutes in the waiting room, where I had planned on alternately reading a book and knitting a scarf to while away the time before being called. I was then herded into the tiniest court room I'd ever seen (not that I've seen many, but the number of people they crammed in there must have been against some fire safety ordinance or other) where I was forced to sit pressed up against my fellow jurors-in-waiting. It was rush hour subway cramped and the sweltering atmosphere added to my sweaty discomfort and squelched any desire I might have to spend another minute, much less a week or two, in that room, despite my love of Law & Order and its slew of spin-offs. I was called back the next day as a potential juror, but I managed to wrangle out of it by asking a few pertinent questions. Lawyers don't seem to like questions, especially when they're coming from articulate women whose native language is English. So I was sent back to the waiting room. Another group was called to serve, me not included. After they trudged off to certain doom, the guy in charge told us we could leave for the day AND not come back the next! What a coup. I hope this year's courthouse adventure will end as advantageously, but somehow I doubt it. posted at 10:23 PM . link to this post . .
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For some reason I have always managed to get out of jury duty -- I call on my day, and my number is in the series that has been excused.
By
Hey, pst... "My So Called Life" is back.
By
Oh my, I'm so with you, Angela. I got called in January, and as always, wound up actually on a jury. I'm 4 for 4, on a trial every time I get called.
By Yeah, I got called every four years on the dot. Never been on a jury though, and I didn't get picked this time, either. And now that they changed the rules in New York, I only had to show for one day and now I won't be called for another eight years! Woohoo!
By you know, you should blur that barcode :)
By "To Serve Man" Tuesday, January 01, 2008 To me, New Year's Day seems like a pause in time, a twilight zone unto itself, which is probably why they always run a "Twilight Zone" marathon today. After a few hours of watching it, I feel totally unprepared to deal with reality. More unprepared than usual, that is. But it's either this or The Plantet of the Apes marathon I taped last night. Which dystopian view of the future would I rather celebrate at the dawning of the new year? I don't know. Maybe I should turn the damn tv off and go out for a walk. Btw, Happy New Year. :^) posted at 1:25 PM . link to this post . .
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I'm just joining this blog/internet landscape and thought your websites were pretty ineresting. .... Not that you're asking, but I'd go with a little Twilightzone and then for the walk. I'm headed out myself (but I never have to contend with bad wheather here.)... and those monkey costumes always gave me the heebie jeebies.
By This post has been removed by a blog administrator. |
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Get my friend Alison's new book!  BUY IT! 
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