I'm in a place today. A work-related, career-related, life-related, long term goal-related place.
Basically, I would like to get a hold of a time machine so I can go back to the 5th grade and tell my bowl cut, glasses-wearing self, "F*CK IT, you'll be a Muppeteer if you damn well want to be a Muppeteer."
And then I'll come back to now. But for good measure, I'll make a stop in 1999, slap myself for not wearing my retainer, and then come back for good.
I am going to go home and make myself a sandwich comprised of bacon, smoked gouda, and a slathering of Steve Martin. It might work.
Oh my god, it's The Day.
Showing posts with label Steve Martin. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Steve Martin. Show all posts
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Vintage Luggage Hunting
So I went luggage hunting today. I only have one suitcase, and it is roughly the size of Portugal. I feel ridiculous taking it somewhere for only a weekend because I am SO not "that girl" who needs a big suitcase to cart around 80 pairs of shoes, and that monstrosity makes it look like I am.
On the other hand, I do tend to fill it up anyway, because I AM "that girl" who has four different face washes and uses them all daily. Excuuuuuuuuuse MEEEEEEEE.
I decided that I want a vintage suitcase. Why? I don't know. Because I like to make things difficult for myself. And because I am slowly turning into a hipster. SO! First I stopped in a vintage store in Wicker Park. Just a heads up: don't ever do that. If you want vintage things, try to go to a store that is not on Vintage Hipsters Avenue, Vintage City, USA (Population: Vintage). They had full sets of luggage (that means like 4 varying sizes) that were adorable, but $150. Which probably isn't even that much for luggage but what can I say? I am cheap. Anyway, what am I going to do with a hat box? Who am I, Fraulein Maria?
So I hiked my ass all the way over to Lakeview, to a store that makes no sense to me whatsoever: It is a normal clothing store on the first floor, shoes on the second floor, Army surplus on the third, and vintage on top. What the hell? Make up your damn mind, building.
So I climbed all the way to the fourth floor because I'm pretty sure there's no elevator and I was too lazy to look for one (but not lazy enough to skip the four flights...this is my life.)
They had two that I thought would suffice, both for under $40. One was red leather, very 70s feeling, and it had a belt to close it. And then there was another one--a hard two-piece set. On the outside, milk chocolate brown. On the inside, chartreuse. There was one big suitcase (what I was looking for) and then a little one which I think used to be a kind of carry-on bag. I imagine it being filled with rouge and handkerchiefs for women to wave out the window of the train as they pulled away. You know what I think it's good for? A kitten bed perhaps?
I stood there for maybe half an hour trying to decide. That is not an exaggeration. This is why I no longer go shopping with other people. It took me so long to decide which suitcase to buy I think I actually started to grow a beard, a la Rip Van Winkle.
I mean, on the one hand, the luggage set was brown. Ew. But on the other hand, it looked like a Hershey bar. Yes please. On the other hand, it was old and worn. On the other hand, chartreuse. Char. Treuse.
I walked around...I looked at jackets. I almost dropped an old ice crusher. I walked back to the luggage. Finally, I made my decision.
Of course I chose the brown luggage. I walked all the way back down to the first floor. And right when I got there, after having carefully selected my luggage, spending possibly hours agonizing over my choice, paying for my non-refundable, chartreuse-lined future kitten bed, and passing a crowd of cute boys I...dropped my luggage. on the cement floor.
CLATTER BAM BOOM SMASH.
God damn me.
Well anyway, I got the luggage home safely otherwise. Here it is!
Charlie was very curious about this luggage. It had a mystery smell. The smell is, as humans call it, decades of cigarette smoke. Whoops. I didn't think it was that bad in the store. But took it home and opened it up and WOW. It's smelly. Hence the Febreeze in the background. This luggage will be getting a good dousing.
Anyway, all this to say, I go and visit Michelle this weekend! And now I have proper luggage to do it! I'm excited to see her, yes, but we have all kinds of food plans that I am also pumped for. There is to be wine and cheese AND guacamole.
...
Sorry, I just passed out there for a second. But I'm back. Oh, and I am also hoping to make Brussels sprouts because I have discovered that they are NOT disgusting, and you should, too. So here.
Okay this post started from nothing and has really spun out of control from there. So I'm going to stop. Happy Lost Day, everyone!
On the other hand, I do tend to fill it up anyway, because I AM "that girl" who has four different face washes and uses them all daily. Excuuuuuuuuuse MEEEEEEEE.
I decided that I want a vintage suitcase. Why? I don't know. Because I like to make things difficult for myself. And because I am slowly turning into a hipster. SO! First I stopped in a vintage store in Wicker Park. Just a heads up: don't ever do that. If you want vintage things, try to go to a store that is not on Vintage Hipsters Avenue, Vintage City, USA (Population: Vintage). They had full sets of luggage (that means like 4 varying sizes) that were adorable, but $150. Which probably isn't even that much for luggage but what can I say? I am cheap. Anyway, what am I going to do with a hat box? Who am I, Fraulein Maria?
So I hiked my ass all the way over to Lakeview, to a store that makes no sense to me whatsoever: It is a normal clothing store on the first floor, shoes on the second floor, Army surplus on the third, and vintage on top. What the hell? Make up your damn mind, building.
So I climbed all the way to the fourth floor because I'm pretty sure there's no elevator and I was too lazy to look for one (but not lazy enough to skip the four flights...this is my life.)
They had two that I thought would suffice, both for under $40. One was red leather, very 70s feeling, and it had a belt to close it. And then there was another one--a hard two-piece set. On the outside, milk chocolate brown. On the inside, chartreuse. There was one big suitcase (what I was looking for) and then a little one which I think used to be a kind of carry-on bag. I imagine it being filled with rouge and handkerchiefs for women to wave out the window of the train as they pulled away. You know what I think it's good for? A kitten bed perhaps?
I stood there for maybe half an hour trying to decide. That is not an exaggeration. This is why I no longer go shopping with other people. It took me so long to decide which suitcase to buy I think I actually started to grow a beard, a la Rip Van Winkle.
I mean, on the one hand, the luggage set was brown. Ew. But on the other hand, it looked like a Hershey bar. Yes please. On the other hand, it was old and worn. On the other hand, chartreuse. Char. Treuse.
I walked around...I looked at jackets. I almost dropped an old ice crusher. I walked back to the luggage. Finally, I made my decision.
Of course I chose the brown luggage. I walked all the way back down to the first floor. And right when I got there, after having carefully selected my luggage, spending possibly hours agonizing over my choice, paying for my non-refundable, chartreuse-lined future kitten bed, and passing a crowd of cute boys I...dropped my luggage. on the cement floor.
CLATTER BAM BOOM SMASH.
God damn me.
Well anyway, I got the luggage home safely otherwise. Here it is!
Charlie was very curious about this luggage. It had a mystery smell. The smell is, as humans call it, decades of cigarette smoke. Whoops. I didn't think it was that bad in the store. But took it home and opened it up and WOW. It's smelly. Hence the Febreeze in the background. This luggage will be getting a good dousing.
Anyway, all this to say, I go and visit Michelle this weekend! And now I have proper luggage to do it! I'm excited to see her, yes, but we have all kinds of food plans that I am also pumped for. There is to be wine and cheese AND guacamole.
...
Sorry, I just passed out there for a second. But I'm back. Oh, and I am also hoping to make Brussels sprouts because I have discovered that they are NOT disgusting, and you should, too. So here.
Okay this post started from nothing and has really spun out of control from there. So I'm going to stop. Happy Lost Day, everyone!
Monday, April 5, 2010
Man Thighs: And Don't Mind If I Do.
Reading over my posts last week, I realized they were all very negatively charged. I'd like to say it's because it was the last week of Lent and I was going through some kind of withdrawal, but the only thing I'd given up was cooking my own meals and doing crunches at the gym.
I don't want you all to think I am some kind of constantly negative, angry person. I'm really quite optimistic. So today I'd like to tell you about my single greatest love in the whole world:
Man thighs.
Can you feel the love? Can you feel it emanating from my heart, into my keyboard, through the series of tubes, and straight to your soul?
I was introduced to the power of man thighs through Sara. We were watching Arrested Development together and she pointed out that the hilarity of Gob dangling from a crane in a banana suit rests in the fact that his man thighs are so funny to look at.
For some reason, Adrienne has been trying to explain why man thighs are so great to some friends, and has asked me to help. The problem is, describing why man thighs are amazing is kind of like describing why chocolate is amazing. "Um...because it's amazing?" But since some people don't really understand the majesty, let me try to break it down for you.
Reasons Why Man Thighs Are Hilarious
1. The simple fact that they are rarely seen.
They're such an anomaly! I mean, come on. When was the last time you saw some full man thigh action? Any time you have, I'm sure it was 90-100% hilarious. That's just a fact. I mean, we're not going to get into specifics around here about how exactly you came to be face-to-face with man thighs, but I'm going to assume that, whatever the situation, and whether real or through some sort of tv or computer screen, it was an awkward/amazing encounter. Purely because it's something you aren't used to seeing. There was probably some gawking, maybe a little giggling.
I'm not sure how people felt about man thighs in the 70s when men were walking around with short shorts all the time. Maybe then it was normal and fine. But Joe and I just watched the Muppet Movie, and this miraculous thing happened:
That is Steve Martin in his heyday, looking fantastic, and sporting some very nice-looking man thighs. And since I was not used to seeing 70s Steve Martin or his man thighs, I found myself in a fit of giggles about them.
Side note, because you know how much I love the Muppets, especially 70's Gonzo-- Look at how adorable Gonzo used to be in his little vest and belt.
Okay back to man thigh love.
2. Lack of exposure to sun, or: Milkiness.
This one is directly correlated to #1. Since man thighs stay so sadly hidden beneath layers of clothes, they don't get much sunlight. Hence, man thighs stay a natural, lighter tone. For the white man (for whom man thighs are the most hilarious due to creaminess [it's science]) this puts their man thighs at a nice ivory. Eggshell. Mother of pearl.
3. They're so sturdy.
Even though the word "sturdy" makes me uncomfortable, I can't help but use it to describe man thighs. Women have this lovely gift from God called "cellulite." But men's muscles are designed a different way. I don't really know how it works. Alls I know is: man thighs are biologically more solid. Thick. They were built for round-housing mastodons. AND BOY, COULD THEY. It is my opinion that the more tree trunk-like your man thighs, the better.
4. The hairiness factor.
Nothing is more disappointing than a man with either no hair on his man thighs, or super hairy man thighs. Because the best way to go, truly, is the splotchy-hairy. Really, is anything funnier than splotchy-hairiness?
Quick answer: no.
I hope that clears things up for you nay-sayers. Does anyone have any other thoughts? Any better reason why man thighs are so majestic?
I don't want you all to think I am some kind of constantly negative, angry person. I'm really quite optimistic. So today I'd like to tell you about my single greatest love in the whole world:
Man thighs.
Can you feel the love? Can you feel it emanating from my heart, into my keyboard, through the series of tubes, and straight to your soul?
I was introduced to the power of man thighs through Sara. We were watching Arrested Development together and she pointed out that the hilarity of Gob dangling from a crane in a banana suit rests in the fact that his man thighs are so funny to look at.
For some reason, Adrienne has been trying to explain why man thighs are so great to some friends, and has asked me to help. The problem is, describing why man thighs are amazing is kind of like describing why chocolate is amazing. "Um...because it's amazing?" But since some people don't really understand the majesty, let me try to break it down for you.
Reasons Why Man Thighs Are Hilarious
1. The simple fact that they are rarely seen.
They're such an anomaly! I mean, come on. When was the last time you saw some full man thigh action? Any time you have, I'm sure it was 90-100% hilarious. That's just a fact. I mean, we're not going to get into specifics around here about how exactly you came to be face-to-face with man thighs, but I'm going to assume that, whatever the situation, and whether real or through some sort of tv or computer screen, it was an awkward/amazing encounter. Purely because it's something you aren't used to seeing. There was probably some gawking, maybe a little giggling.
I'm not sure how people felt about man thighs in the 70s when men were walking around with short shorts all the time. Maybe then it was normal and fine. But Joe and I just watched the Muppet Movie, and this miraculous thing happened:
That is Steve Martin in his heyday, looking fantastic, and sporting some very nice-looking man thighs. And since I was not used to seeing 70s Steve Martin or his man thighs, I found myself in a fit of giggles about them.
Side note, because you know how much I love the Muppets, especially 70's Gonzo-- Look at how adorable Gonzo used to be in his little vest and belt.
Okay back to man thigh love.
2. Lack of exposure to sun, or: Milkiness.
This one is directly correlated to #1. Since man thighs stay so sadly hidden beneath layers of clothes, they don't get much sunlight. Hence, man thighs stay a natural, lighter tone. For the white man (for whom man thighs are the most hilarious due to creaminess [it's science]) this puts their man thighs at a nice ivory. Eggshell. Mother of pearl.
3. They're so sturdy.
Even though the word "sturdy" makes me uncomfortable, I can't help but use it to describe man thighs. Women have this lovely gift from God called "cellulite." But men's muscles are designed a different way. I don't really know how it works. Alls I know is: man thighs are biologically more solid. Thick. They were built for round-housing mastodons. AND BOY, COULD THEY. It is my opinion that the more tree trunk-like your man thighs, the better.
4. The hairiness factor.
Nothing is more disappointing than a man with either no hair on his man thighs, or super hairy man thighs. Because the best way to go, truly, is the splotchy-hairy. Really, is anything funnier than splotchy-hairiness?
Quick answer: no.
I hope that clears things up for you nay-sayers. Does anyone have any other thoughts? Any better reason why man thighs are so majestic?
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Awkard City, Population: The Oscars
A few of my live Oscar thoughts:
THIS OSCARS IS SO AWKWARD ALREADY
WAIT! WHY IS NPH HERE?!?! Did they get him just because Alec refused to dance? Is there anyone I’m more glad had a comeback? No there is not. No there is not indeed. I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but thank god for Harold and Kumar.
Oh, no. It’s awkward again. Oh wait, now it’s not. Okay, wait a minute. It’s awkward again. And it’s still awkward. Wait! It’s...oh, no. It’s just awkward.
Joe and I simultaneously: “…Ryan REYNOLDS?”
OH MY GOD WHY IS THIS THE MOST AWKWARD OSCARS EVER?!?
Monique. All of it. Every part.
DOM DELOUISE IS DEAD? WHY DON’T YOU PEOPLE KEEP ME INFORMED ABOUT THINGS THAT ARE IMPORTANT TO MY DAY-TO-DAY LIFE?
Yay, dancing to best original music! Oh, wait...it's just a Gap ad.
I’d like you all to meet my future husband: Colin Firth. Even if he is 100 years old, I will feed him apple sauce and roll him around in his wheelchair.
Oprah?! YOU get an Oscar! YOU get an Oscar! EVERY! BODY! GETS AN OSCAR!
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSANDRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
So...I guess I need to see Hurt Locker?
Oh man! I forgot Alan Rickman is in this!! (Sorry, I switched over to Die Hard. Okay, no more writing my thoughts to my blog.)
THIS OSCARS IS SO AWKWARD ALREADY
WAIT! WHY IS NPH HERE?!?! Did they get him just because Alec refused to dance? Is there anyone I’m more glad had a comeback? No there is not. No there is not indeed. I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but thank god for Harold and Kumar.
Oh, no. It’s awkward again. Oh wait, now it’s not. Okay, wait a minute. It’s awkward again. And it’s still awkward. Wait! It’s...oh, no. It’s just awkward.
Joe and I simultaneously: “…Ryan REYNOLDS?”
OH MY GOD WHY IS THIS THE MOST AWKWARD OSCARS EVER?!?
Monique. All of it. Every part.
DOM DELOUISE IS DEAD? WHY DON’T YOU PEOPLE KEEP ME INFORMED ABOUT THINGS THAT ARE IMPORTANT TO MY DAY-TO-DAY LIFE?
Yay, dancing to best original music! Oh, wait...it's just a Gap ad.
I’d like you all to meet my future husband: Colin Firth. Even if he is 100 years old, I will feed him apple sauce and roll him around in his wheelchair.
Oprah?! YOU get an Oscar! YOU get an Oscar! EVERY! BODY! GETS AN OSCAR!
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSANDRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
So...I guess I need to see Hurt Locker?
Oh man! I forgot Alan Rickman is in this!! (Sorry, I switched over to Die Hard. Okay, no more writing my thoughts to my blog.)
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