An observation

Why is it that the people you keep in touch with the least or who are your ugliest friends end up on your main viewing profile page on Friendster? Not saying that's happened to me necessarily, but still.....

Lessons from a Red State

1) Never underestimate the value of Dr. Phil
I realized yesterday as my mother went into her upteenth Dr. Phil diatribe for me that perhaps I should have started a "Number of Times my mom mentions his word as gospel" column for the blog. I know now that my problems will be solved once I start going to church and watching Dr. Phil.

2) Never underestimate how long it takes for a fashion 'no' to reach the heartland. I know this has been said before, but I was shocked, SHOCKED, at my sister's blatant disregard for the warnings...
So, I was headed out the door the other day, reaching for the doorknob, and gasped at what was approaching me - my younger sister, headed home from a friend's house, sporting an outfit radically different than what she wore the night before: her friend had re-dressed her in a baby blue sweatshirt, light yellow sweatpants, and yes, dear friends, pale pink Uggs. I hurried her inside and immediately proceeded to tell her that A) it's Christmas, not Easter, and B) Uggs, much less pale pink ones, had their moment on Kate Hudson's feet in the summer of 2002. Anything since then is a big fat no.
I'm quite confident, however, that I'll be still seeing those big fat animal hair mukluk- thingys when I visit my favorite Red State until at least Christmas 2007.

3) Never underestimate the simultaneous conversational starting and ending power of an ex-boyfriend's name, also from the Red State.
I like to think that I've done several pretty cool things over the last couple of years - met a couple of movie stars, published some articles, worked on an amazing documentary, and yes, even managed to trick some guys into a couple of drinks, er dates. So, it's always a little disconcerting to arrive back in my Red State and hear (in the appropriate regional Southern twang), "How's XX," or "I heard you and XX went out a couple of times up there in NYC," or "Oh yeah, YOU"RE Ketty Ket - I'm friends with XX."
TWO YEARS ago I dated XX. I'm trying to remember what was hot then:
8 Mile and Eminem's soundtrack
The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers
Jackass: The Movie
ohmygod, I forgot - it was the Jenny from the Block, period, people, Jenny from the Block! Bennifer was just beginning its assault on us. (Incidentally, the fashion-forwardly 'real' Jenny is wearing the aforementioned furry Uggs in some of these pix)
Apparently, fur was THE FASHION, not just on J. Lo's Uggs:

Ok, you get the picture. I'm seriously starting to worry that I'm going to need to get married and start popping out babies real soon in order to get people to shut up about XX.

4) Never underestimate the Breaking News impact of your Red State newspaper's headline: The Gift of Their Presence: Jewish Volunteers Give Christians the Day Off
I know - surprised, aren't you? There are some Jewish people here, but they only come out on our holidays to give us notoriously hard-working Christians a well-deserved break.

Oh, Lloyd, you're just a Debbie

I tried this once before, but the gutter-drama that is Paris drew me back in within 4 days. Good luck to you Lloyd Grove. I'll hold back on the 'but Paris is the only reason I ever noticed you had a gossip column, Lloyd' proclamations, because I actually agree with his gesture. May 2005 be the year that Paris will finally R.I.P. (otherwise my bets are on Lloyd's column)

Another year, another lawsuit for Snoop...

I'm not saying run out and get this for Christmas

but know that it's out there....

The Right of Way

So, I told someone this story today, even though it happened last week, and it's on my mind. Back me up.

For some insane reason - ok, I'm a lush- I went to the Meatpacking District with a friend last weekend to meet up with some guy she's been seeing. Obviously, she only got me over there because she supplied me with plenty of martinis through the course of the night. Otherwise, I just can't deal with that banker crowd. Too many flashbacks of college.

Anyway, at a certain point, I think she can handle being with him and his friends, so I jet and hail a cab. The cab is mine, but some lame, trendy, balding Wall Street guy gets in the cab at the same time as me and has the balls to say it's his. We fight - I'm a girl, for god's sakes, he should give it to me, and I'm all, well, I'm staying in the cab, and he's all, I'm going to Wall Street and whatever. I'm all, good god, you really are a Wall Street financial guy. I'm all, oh eff, I don't want to pay to drive from Wall Street all the back uptown, so I get out. I gave up, or maybe it's just that I didn't want to get any trendy cooties from Mr. Wall Street.

Regardless, I called one of my gay friends who was at XL and joined him there as his token fabulous fag hag. And the night ended up okay because the one straight bar-tender there kept me plied with free drinks. My main issue, though, is that Mr. Wall Street should've given me the cab, right? I'm the girl - and I was wearing stilettos that were really hard to walk in. There should be a law against assholes, especially in cabs. yeah.

Jump the Shark?

Ok, I'm a little nervous for the O.C.'ers -it's only the second season and they're already blatantly trying to buy us off with the whole "Marissa's a lesbian" plot twist? I'm going to be honest, no, I haven't been watching as much of my favorite drinking game show this year, but there can't be that many people out there like me! Do they really need to resort to this plot to increase the ratings? I mean, yes, it could be a true story, but not in The O.C...(did you see L.C. or Kristin engaging in anything like this on Laguna Beach - no, I most def think not) and ewww, not with Mischa Barfin?! Yuck! Isn't it enough that we have to see pix of her coke-loving skinny self making out with her nasty trust fund boyf in real life?
Please, O.C.'ers - Don't try to make her 'hip' by hooking up with a girl. She's too lame for something that individualistic...and it's going to be really painful watching her act out this relationship. Oh well, back to the bottle, I guess - more rules for the game...

I say more Seth and Summer and completely get rid of Miss Barfin. She looks way too much like E.T. for my comfort. Seriously. Mischa gives me flashbacks of E.T. and how I was scared of him when I was little. I used to have to keep my closet light on because I was convinced that E.T. would come out of hiding and stay with me....and Mischa "ET" Barfin brings back all those scary memories...

Scissor Sisters

So...there's this band that's been getting a lot of buzz - and they have a fun name to say, especially when you try to say it really quickly three times fast: Scissor Sisters , Scissor Sisters, Scissor Sisters.
Supposedly, they're Elton John's favorite band...and not supposedly, but really, they just got nominated for a Grammy. woohoo.
Anyway, I'm home for Christmas and have realized that my friend, Mark's brother, Scott is in the band. So, congrats Scott (and Mark)! They're a cool family - my main memory of Mark growing up is that he gave away boxers at his bar mitzvah that said, "I danced my pants off at Mark's bar mitzvah." Hilarious, right? No, seriously, I really did think that was funny when I was 12.
Anyway - congrats Scissor Sisters. I'm pretty psyched for the little hometown band. They play at Hammerstein in New York tonight, but won't be back in the city til ????

Addendum, though

I just realized that I used 'though' at least 12 times too many in that last post...apologies. Maybe I should occasionally edit these things.

Available & Cute or Cute & Available

It's come to this - I'm jealous of Jessica Cutler. I know, I know - it's old news, but today's NY Times magazine got me started on it again. She hooks up with a few old geezers in DC, mysteriously posts about it in her blog for a couple of days, and gets a $300,000 book deal out of it, plus a Playboy pictoral. Now, I'm not of those girls who thinks posing for Playboy will make me the next Pam Anderson, but I'm not going to lie - part of me would love to have nude pictures to look back on when I'm 56. At the very least, the prospect of taking the photos would force me to get to the gym. Tastefully done, though - unlike the recent Denise Richards Christmas tree ornament debacle... That said, Charlie thought she looked so hot that he did her again.

(I feel so vulgar writing that - my mother would kill me for being so crude...but it's not like I said the f-word....ya'll know I'm from the South, though, right?)

Back to the point, though. I'm a hot young blogging thang looking for a benefactor who I could blackmail into getting a sweet book deal, hot buzzzz, free expensive clothes, and invitations to all the coolest soirees. Or should I post on Craig's List? You get a hot blonde who is super-fun and I get, hmmm...hopefully exactly what Miss Cutler got. Did I mention that I love to smooch?? heehee

In other news, I'm getting inspired by the Christmas-New Year's theme in today's NY Times mag style layout: "Haute Christmas Tree.' I love it when make-up artists in their fashion layouts get all creative on me, especially in that bastion of edge, the NY Times. Again, if I could figure out how to post pix on here, you'd know what I was talking about, but I'm retarded and can't. Suffice to say, I'll be going as either a bright red candy-cane darling or a spangly Angel Eyes to my New Year's Eve parties...knock on wood that 'les benefactors' will love the looks.

Golden

If I can just figure out how to put pix on here, my life will be golden. Any feedback would be appreciated. This darn Hellobloggerbot thing is proving too difficult for me and my painkiller-addled mind today. Hello Kitty on the other hand...I just did that to prove that I know how to do a link. Hello Kitty's okay, but I'm not Paris Hilton. Don't love Hello Kitty enough to have phones and purses with Kitty and her friends in glitter all over it.

Now's as good a time as any...

So, I'm stuck in my bed for the immediate future, having been here since Tuesday. Leg surgery, or cross that, vein surgery - I'm really not an 80 year old grandma, I swear, I just have bad veins that had to be taken out.

At first I was planning to go all Lindsay Lohan on everyone. Forget Anna Nicole's Trim Spa. I figured I could stand to do Lohan's whole cracked-out hospitalization thing and was getting sort of psyched thinking about my post-surgery diet of painkillers, crackers, and agua. I mean, Lohan did it and got the cover of Entertainment Weekly. But I forgot to add my mother's good intentions into my diet plan.

While I'm in bed, my mother is keeping busy, ecstatic over the fact that I'm home for the first time in months & she's able to be a caregiver. So - I lie here, the victim of my mother's maternal instincts, as she spoon feeds me soup, Christmas cookies, fudge, brownies, roast (hell yeah), pimento cheese, green beans, ice cream, I don't know, it's all blurring together. I can't run. So, now I'm a little concerned that my booty has doubled in size and I won't be able to fit into my New Year's dress when I get back to NYC....the horrors!

Oh, but the point of this little monologue - I'm going to get into blogging. I'm going to become a serious blogster in the vein (no pun intended -he he) of whatevs, lindsayism, myblogispoop, ultragrrl, fugging it up,...I mean, a girl, especially one who has lost her veins and is sitting in bed at her mother's mercy, can dream, right? Let me have that...