Thursday, November 20, 2008

Robot Chicken Star Wars: Try the Calamari

The second episode of Robot Chicken's twisted homage to Star Wars is now available online at Seriously, this should not amuse me as much as it does, but what can I say? I'm a complete idiot.

P.S. If you don't understand why that's funny, it's okay. It's a total Star Wars geek thing.

Here's a snippet that's a little less obscure, but just as silly and twisted:

Now, I need to go to the MoCo Library website and reserve a copy of Carrie Fisher's newest book, her memoir "Wishful Drinking." I think I'm glad I was a naive child when Star Wars first came out. The 70s were much more innocent if you were completely oblivious to everything around you, and you didn't know Princess Leia was just a coked up celebu-spawn teenager banging Han Solo somewhere behind the craft services table.

Good times, good times...

Wednesday, November 19, 2008

The horror... the... horror...

Things aren't good right now. I won't say much more about it. Things simply aren't going well. And thus, I'm trying to find The Funny wherever I can.

My friend Ben made a comment on this photo over on Facebook yesterday. I hadn't thought about it in a while, but it made me laugh today. And, dear lord, I needed a laugh today. Hell, in this economy, I bet you can, too.

So, for the amusement and horror of those who need a little lift, I'm resurrecting an oldie, but gawdawfulie: the Merujo Carpet.

If you missed it when I first posted it back in 2005, this fugly carpet was custom-woven for me as a surprise gift from an Uzbek government official several years ago. He had snapped an atrocious photo of me the previous summer when he was visiting the 'States. I recall the day of that photo being somewhere near 100F, and I tend to melt in our humid DC swamp-swelter. This Uzbek gent handed off this wretched, hot, sweaty summer day photo of me to some carpet weavers (who are probably still in therapy.) Months later, lo and behold, a nightmare was born! I look like the Pillsbury Doughboy's ruddy maiden aunt, with frizzy hair pulled up so tight, I appear to have a high-and-tight Marine haircut.

Nice, huh?

So, for those who missed it before - and for those who can never turn away from a car wreck, here it is. The single ugliest thing I will ever own. Remarkably, it makes the actual me look good in comparison:

Just remember, when you are having a bad day, hopefully no one has immortalized you in loosely woven wool.

Loosely woven wool designed to be walked upon.

And frighten children.

Sunday, November 16, 2008

I know this feeling

Sometimes I see images and words on PostSecret that resonate with me so much they make me cry. This one did it today:

For me, it's not because of chemo. It's because of general health, age, finances, unattractiveness, the inability to find anyone whom I love and who desires me...

Adoption isn't an option, either, between the health and finances, too.

I know I'm not alone in feeling this. I know there are women everywhere who feel this emptiness, too. When I see my friends - happy with their partners and families - I get that feeling of basic existential failure very acutely. No matter how smart I am, as a human animal, I am a failure. Totally irrelevant.

Some days are harder than others. What can I say?

Thursday, November 13, 2008


Lunchbreak time.

Tell me what's wrong with this Google Ad I just saw on the Huffington Post:

In just TWO WEEKS this woman lost not only twelve pounds, but all the pigment in her skin!!!

Stop the presses! Somebody call Ripley's!!


How difficult would have been to find photos of different headless women of the same race? And maybe two women who actually were in the range of being twelve pounds apart? Because these ladies aren't twelve pounds apart, kids.

Man, Google has some really dumb advertisers...


Unpleasant illness, altered prescription drugs, pain, and general malaise have all kept me from writing. I've been thinking about posting, but for several days now, it's just about all I can do to remember to brush my teeth turn the lights out before I go to sleep. So very tired. And, of course, I woke up at 4-something this morning, and I'm still up at 5.

Going to try to get some more sleep now, and over the weekend, I hope the muse will be mainlining caffeine.

Wednesday, November 05, 2008

I go to sleep now...

knowing I will wake up in an America changed.

God bless the president-elect.

And God bless the United States of America.

May we regain our honor, dignity, and direction.

Monday, November 03, 2008

The Count of Pennsylvania

Hi folks,

I'm taking a moment away from the fever couch to send you off again to my friend Spencer's blog. The final entry in his pre-election "Not Spencer" guest blogger series was posted today, and it's a treat. It's a new song by Michael Penn called "The Count of Pennsylvania" and MP wrote this especially for Spencer's blog. Cool, huh?

So, c'mon over to Chez Spencer and "get in on the landslide!"

It gets even better...

I didn't pick up my Saturday mail until I came home from my Tex-Mex birthday dinner with the Sasquatch (thank you, Sasquatch!!) In the mix of bills and birthday cards, there was an envelope with an Austin, Texas postmark, but no return address.

Remember the D. and J. that the clairvoyant mentioned to me? My mom didn't want me to stress over D. and J. being invited to a recognition ceremony in Nevada for mom's dad.

What was in the envelope? A note from D. - a man I haven't seen or communicated with since I was a kid - saying, "Hey, my wife and I are coming out to Nevada for this event. Hope to see you there!"


Okay, back to the sofa. I've turned from being feverish to having chills. Yet I still have to go for the cortisone shoulder shot today. (Ugh!)

Saturday, November 01, 2008

Messages from Another World

I have finally had an "October Moment" to rival one of Magazine Man's amazing stories. I thought of posting it yesterday, but I'm glad I didn't, as the story's relevance continued on this afternoon. For the privacy of some people involved, I'm changing names to initials, and I'm not revealing the location where this happened, for the privacy of the woman who gave me this amazing gift.

Yesterday morning, I splurged big time on a reflexology foot massage for my birthday. Friday was my flex day from work, and I figured I needed to do something good for myself at some point - especially after so much "oooh my back" grumbling and groaning like an old crone.

The therapist who did the massage is a 60-something woman from Europe named M. She was funny, full of life, and did a fantastic job with the tootsie kneading. Halfway through the massage she stops and says to me, "I hope I won't offend you with this, but I feel you'll be quite receptive to this..." She told me she was a clairvoyant years ago overseas, and had provided services for members of a royal family. She stopped working as a clairvoyant when she found she was being bothered by "voices" all the time. "I had no private life," she said in explanation. So, she fled the voices, moved to the 'States and took massage therapy courses.

She told me she had occasionally received messages for other massage clients, but she never felt they would be receptive to anything she had to say. She said to me, "Who is GNH? Whose initials are GNH?" I inhaled sharply. Those were my mother's initials. She really disliked her given name, and, before marrying my father, she used her initials all the time. When I told M. those were Mom's initials, she said, "I see planes all around her. Airplanes? Does that make sense?"

Can you say "whoa, freaky!"?!?!

She said, "Your mother doesn't want you to worry about the light in your dining room. You worry too much about it, and there will be no fire. Don't worry about the electrics at all." My brother Mike who came to see me earlier this month would be able to tell you - my landlord has not repaired/replaced a chandelier in my dining room for a year, despite there being scorch marks all around it. Just last night, I was staring at it, very annoyed to still have it vexing me.

Then she asked me "Who are B. and E.?" (My sisters in Illinois - keep in mind she used full first names.) "How about M.? Your mother says M. has been having a very difficult time, and she watching over her." M. is my sister who has had very serious, life-threatening medical problems for months now.

I was just blown away.

But it continues -- she said to me, "Your mother says to not be concerned that D. and J. have been invited to the event in.... ummm... Nevada." D. and J. are my mother's unpleasant relatives by marriage - people we cannot stand. Trust me, there are good reasons for our dislike. Last week, I received a letter from an organization in Nevada, inviting me to attend a ceremony next year in Nevada, honoring my mother's father for his scholarly work in mapping and water research in the state. They didn't have the names of my other siblings for the letter, but they included D. and J. in the invite. I had just written to my siblings last week, saying it would be an utter shame if only those nasty cretins were able to show up for the event.

Apparently, Mom wants me to just fuhget abouddit.

Holy crap, people! Seriously!

Then, M. asked if there was another "G" out there, connected to airplanes. "Possibly a brother?" she asked. I told her about Mom's brother, G. who vanished in the Pacific in 1943, flying his Douglas dive bomber in bad weather.

She also had a message for me from an old boss in Moscow, too, who died from a brain-eating disease. The man was a mountain of charisma, but had no moral compass. He slept with a baker's dozen of my coworkers - always when his wife was on official travel. M. had a lovely dog - a black & white australian sheepdog. The woman this morning asked me if I knew "an M." (here, she offered up a couple of names, one of them a bit exotic and right on target) "with a border collie or sheepdog, black & white... he wants to apologize for all his bad behavior and asks if you would pass the word to others who knew him, just how sorry he is."


I know some may not believe in such things, but my rational mind cannot find any explanation for her revelations. I had never met M. before. I told her nothing about the family. I had never been to the little spa before. She told me the warmth and light that came with the messages was amazing, and, if I ever wanted to come back for another massage, she'd be happy to pass on any other messages she received.

I guess I need to figure out where I'm going to get $40 a month to go in for a massage!!

So, if all this wasn't strange enough, M. had said something about "pink roses, pink roses... I have a very strong image of pink roses, and maybe a lily... oh, and there's baby's breath, but one stem is bad, you'll have to throw that away."

And so comes today's floral coda to this tale...

This afternoon, two dear friends had flowers delivered to me for my birthday. The arrangement was a wonderfully wild mix of stunning flowers and colors. And, in the heart of the bunch, what did I find?

Bright pink roses and a brilliant yellow lily.

And, in the baby's breath, one stem that had seen better days.

Folks, I don't know what to say. Even if you don't believe, it's pretty wild. And if you do, it's nice to know there are folks out there, watching out for us. :)