Sunday, January 31, 2010
Sweet Potatoes
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Tag Results
I should have guessed, but didn’t, that Miss Janey is one tough chick. With fierce hair. Do not cross her.
I was able to lure Askthecoolcookie out of retirement, which I’m delighted with because I find his blog terribly amusing and it has one of the best blog names (Doing Hard Time in Shaker Heights) I’ve run into.
Amy has refused to obey my commands. Foolish mortal. I forgive her because she sent me her mother-in-law’s recipe for tortillas and the most fabulous Mexican chicken soup known to man.
MJ is just bitter. Bitter, bitter, bitter. Plus she seems to have developed an obsession about my hat. One doesn't know whether to feel pity or disgust for the freak-on she has about it, but I'm pulling together a restraining order, just in case.
There is no one like Muscato, of course, for a note of glam.
Mostly, I was struck by the almost universal revulsion noted for the Kreativ Blogger logo. I have to agree, it is repulsive; in the words of MJ a “… dreadfully unattractive Holly-Hobbie-esque, Strawberry-Shortcake-ish logo….”
I wanted to see who might be responsible for this, and for inflicting the semi-word “Kreativ” on the world. Were they being ironic? Misguided? Just plain stupid? Since the rules of the meme required that you link back to whatever enemy had tagged you, I thought tracking back up stream to the originator would be easy. I ran aground about ten links back, because somebody didn’t follow the rules. Isn’t that always the way?
A quick Googe showed that this is an award that has been around the block. Page after page going back into the dim mists of 2008. It also showed that the logo has suffered in the intervening posts. One wonders how did this:
And why?
The award has gone through whole communities of bloggers. I suppose that’s part of the charm of the internet. To me from a world of cineastes via TJB, but it’s also landed in universes of Ladies who write romance novels, or who turn paper towel rolls into art, or who refer to their spouse as “My Dear Husband.” Gay Buddhists. Healthful cooking. Blogs that are schmaltzy or grim or dull or, rarely, cool. It’s the internet, you know.
I never did figure out whose fault this was, but one of them did include this photo.
I suppose it makes the search worthwhile
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Meditation
Monday, January 25, 2010
But I was not feeling the cold wet love. I know serious gardeners would scoff at a little sloggy rain and get out in the yard to take care of the tasks required this time of year. I know because I used to be a serious gardener out there in the muck, but I have come to my senses now and decided to live with the weeds. How bad can they be? So I came back inside and made banana muffins instead.
Also, this just in, the Evil and Adorable Saki the Cat always leads with his left paw when playing (or slashing at my hand. It can be hard to tell them apart.) He's an orange tabby. He lives with two elderly poofs and has no interest in Lady cats and his favorite lounging station is a hot pink pillow. And we think he's Jewish. So. A redheaded, gay, jewish southpaw. It's like he's covering all the ACLU hot spots.
Friday, January 22, 2010
Taggety Tag
1. Thank the person who nominated you for this award.
Yeah. Whatever.
2. Copy the logo and place it on your blog.
Oh, dear god. Both Jason and TJB mentioned how dreadful the logo was and they're quite right. The fact that all three of us wrinkle our collective nose at it only proves how wretched it really is. And the spelling of “Kreativ” irks me. It's like Kathi's Krativ Krafts.
3. Link to the person who nominated you for this award.
Stirred Straight Up. He rides horses like a Lady, don’t you think? Plus you should go over there right now and see how cute he was with really short hair in Italy. Bastard.
4. Name 7 things about yourself that people might find interesting.
Blessed Lana, I’ve already discussed how many men I’ve had sex with, what asparagus makes my pee smell like, and my double-jointed thumbs. It’s not like I’ve been holding back over here.
All right, all right, let’s see, seven. OK:
Doc: The antidepressants I’m on (Lexapro) make coffee and dark chocolate taste awful. Repulsive. In all the reading I’ve done about them, no one else has mentioned this side effect. Yay, I’m a freak!
Sleepy: I can sleep straight through for twelve hours at a stretch. It’s not a weakness, it’s an art.
Sneazy: My sneezes can set off car alarms, they’re so powerful. Our poor cat Maggie lived with us for 18 years and she never got used to them, god love her. She would always bolt away like she was being attacked.
Dopey: I’m still wearing this hat. Shut up MJ.
Happy: Despite the general tone of this blog, I have a genuinely cheerful disposition. Just don’t push me, bitch.
Grumpy: I also have a sour streak that I give vent to in brittle snark; people often think I’m making brittle jokes. They’re wrong.
Bashful: A big part of my job is making small talk to strangers. It was torture originally, but I made myself do it and now I give classes (literally) in networking. I’m a pro.
5. Nominate 7 Kreativ Bloggers and post links to the 7 blogs you nominate.
Nope. Not going to do it. This madness must end somewhere and it ends with me.
Oh, all right, I tag:
Askthecoolcookie Even though he claims he’s on hiatus. This will teach him.
And I ran out of victims. It’s the problem with being at the bottom of the list, TJB and Jason beat me to it.
On with the Show
Always on the edge which is cutting, mrpeenee recently decided to branch out into rock star territory. Since I already have the attitude and since lack of talent appears to no longer be an impediment (see Lambert, Adam) I realized all I need was a totally kick ass name. Fortunately, Band Name Generator was there for me. Names supplied, in no order of total kick ass-ness, were:
· Beloved Mrpeenee Of The Content Minor
· Muff Of The Mrpeenee Hunger
· Mrpeenee Of The Unforgiven
· Lone Mrpeenee
· Mrpeenee Sanity
· Remote Mrpeenee
· Mrpeenee Of The Manager
· Mrpeenee Priority
· Mrpeenee Funky
· Mrpeenee Cushion
I’m leaning towards mrpeenee Funky, since that seems to cry out for a Bootsy Collins range of costuming, and who wouldn’t like that, but anything with Muff in it is also hard to resist.
Naturally, the houseboys are all auditioning to be in the band. In fact, little Augustus Tertiarius had to take to his bed, the excitement was too much for him, poor thing.
We’ll be playing here all weekend.
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Workaday Nastiness
Even readers of this blog paying absolutely no attention (and goddess knows there are plenty of you) will know I just love being snarky. The opportunity to show my ass with a bitchy turn of phrase is just something that adds a little sparkle to my day. Even better is when I can be professionally snide. So imagine my thrill when I was able to crank up the Dowager Quarterly tone like a Donna Lethal trained laser as part of my job this week.
Part of putting on our annual shindig for local businesses is shaking down fat ass corporations for sponsorships. All that standing around being charming is not free, you know. One of them, who shall remain nameless cause I’m sure they have some marketing slave whose job is to just troll Google looking for any mention of them (hint: it’s like the mean drag queen said about her ex-boyfriend’s dick: “Soft, micro.”) was trying to come across all cheap by getting the benefits of the $15,000 level but only paying $5,000. Cheap bitches. You want to buy a Mercedes, you do not offer Hyundai prices. Anyway, I got to spend the most enjoyable part of Monday morning composing a stiff little email encouraging them in very polite terms to go fuck themselves. The chilly phrases just rang out.
Now, the event’s organizer is going back to them to offer another chance. I told him he could portray me as the hard ass bitch who wanted to castrate them and he could be their little pal cutting deals behind my back. The alacrity he agreed to this may have been suspicious, but what do I care? I got to be paid for being nasty and did so in high minded sentences that would have passed muster with Barbara Pym.
To celebrate, I have allowed houseboy Gaston Gilles Foucalt out of his box. But he’d better behave, that’s all I say.
Monday, January 18, 2010
Strap It On
Are you a Lady who cannot trust her man out the door with his baby maker? Are you just some guy who is afraid he is getting too much of the love action? Perhaps you are a freak, or a Mormon (much the same thing, actually, but that's neither here nor there) and you need to have your Johnson locked away safe and tight.
The answer is the men's chastity belt. Oh, yes, bitches. You can have that troublesome peenee under lock and key and never have to worry about, you know, erectile stuff again. Because you simply cannot trust a rogue dick.
The animated display for the CB 6000 is particularly cool.
Order today, but DO NOT send me pictures.
Friday, January 15, 2010
I am IM
Those of us of a certain age will remember, probably with a fond snicker, International Male, purveyor of the finest in rentboy sleazewear. IM came to my wandering thoughts tonight thanks to Infomaniac’s horrifying salute to middle age delusions here. Much like normadesmond’s comment, I initially thought MJ was implying the photo was actually of TJB . It seemed unlikely, but I’m easily convinced, so I was willing to go along with it, but I did think to myself, I thought, “Girl needs to ease up on them late night runs to Denny’s.”
Anyway, once my mental train had left the station steaming towards International Male, it was but a short Googe to discover that they have, like so many of us, faded lately. Their sad little web presence shows them to be pedaling the same schmata any other down-market Abercrombie and Fitch clone is. And by the way, when did straight boys start dressing like urban queers? Am I the only one concerned by this?
Poor International Male, to have lost its marketing focus just when everybody, straight, gay, questioning, lost, whatever, started dressing like pole dancers from the wrong side of West Hollywood.
International Male, circa 1984, their glory days:
Oh, wait, no it’s not, it’s Dolce Gabbana. My mistake. See what I mean?
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Insulatia
Monday, January 11, 2010
Panties on Parade
Sunday, January 10, 2010
From the Sublime to Whatever
The great Maria Montez in the Cobra Women, rockin' out with what must define "hootchie kootchie girls" and King Cobra. Be sure to note the sort of uneasy look on the snake's face. Who can blame him?
More Almodovar
Salty Miss Jill, in comments on Broken Embraces, mentions Rossy de Palma, a star among star for Almodovar fans. I wanted to mention one of the movie's highpoints is her cameo, playing the crazy (literally) wife in Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown. She makes the most of the bit, appearing with a wadded up piece of red paper in her mouth. It takes a real star to pull off an entrance like that.
Saturday, January 9, 2010
Broken Embraces
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Stop the Kidman Madness
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Carnival and Buddah
Sunday, January 3, 2010
DUSTY SPRINGFIELD - ANYONE WHO HAD A HEART
Continuing to eschew any music performed since the Berlin Wall fell, I’ve reached really far back and been listening over and over to Dusty Springfield cover “Anyone Who Had a Heart” all weekend. I much prefer her version to Dionne’s because, hello?, she’s fucking DUSTY SPRINGFIELD. Fer Christ sakes. God knows, Miss Warfield has her massive strengths; in fact I think she may be an android. She hits every note like a tuning fork, chews up and farts out the most complicated time signatures Burt Bacharach can throw at her, and don’t forget Psychic Friends Network, which alone would land her in my pantheon of greats.
But Dusty Springfield has such a beautiful smokey tone and so very much more personality. So many of her songs express the universal pain of “You have broken my heart, used me and discarded me and I will never get over you, so I’m going to bite your dick off the next chance I get.” Vulnerable, but never a doormat.
While looking to download this, I ran across about a bazillion covers by everyone except Alvin and the Chipmunks and all of hem suck. It’s a tough song, as anyone who has tried to sing along with it on the radio knows. The time is all over the place and switches back and forth like a speed freak’s attention span. Most of the mediocre covers simply ignore that, slow it down like it’s some mellow lounge tune and muddle on through. They should be ashamed. If you can’t handle it the way it’s written, stick to Stevie Nick’s Greatest Hits, that’s what I say,
Friday, January 1, 2010
Jane Fucking Eyre. The Nerve
So here's the sad news:
You're Jane Eyre!
by Charlotte Bronte
Epic in scope and vision, you like looking at your own complete history. That said, your complete history is pretty much crazy. You seem to be followed by suitors, craziness, fires, and incredible turns of both good and bad fortune. Through it all, you persevere while maintaining adherence to your own somewhat middle-ground moral code. While you have confidence that everything will work out in the end, you sometimes wonder if it's worth it along the way. Oh sweet sweet Jane.
Take the Book Quiz II
Happy, You Know, New Year and All That Stuff
I know 2009 has been widely reviled, but I was kind of fond of it. I think it just got a bad rap from hanging around the wrong crowd. Once again, I have managed to fool my bosses into not realizing I have no idea what I'm doing, so I didn't get fired. We managed to not only keep our house, but refinance it. And I'm totally sorry Bea Arthur died (a moment, please,) but I didn't, so yay for that. I learned how to make the uber-tasty Chicken Marballa. All in all, a perfectly fine year.
Plus we all made it through the carnival of Michael Jackson's death and that has to count for something. Media are still trying to resuscitate that story, nosing around for dirt, but for real, what's left? Is someone going to uncover he was a junkie boy lover who dabbled in Arabic tranny moments?Oops, too late.
So, on with the brand new shiny decade. R Man and I spent New Year's Eve the way we always do, asleep. I went to bed about 10:00 knowing that shortly before the stroke of midnight, I would be woken by the fireworks echoing in the canyon we live in. Sure enough, 23:50 on the dot and KABLOOEY. Glen Canyon opens into the Mission where hooligans set off some serious explosions. In the past, it has sounded like the fall of Saigon down there, but this year was rather restrained. The economy, everything gets back to the economy.
In Which We Play
Bon appetit My friends Drumstick and Hotfoot and I had a nice Thanksgiving dinner, really a late lunch. It was in a hotel downtown that u...
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Secret Agent Fred and I have decided to invade New Orleans for Mardi Gras, 2014. I know the last time I went there for Carnival, I swore I ...
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Pictures of naked men have fascinated me for decades. It's not some recent freak that got my blog kicked off of WordPress (not that I...
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If you look below this post, you'll see that the last post I put up here on Blogger is a sniffy little tirade about how I will NEVER d...