It's Friday, I'm in Love

with BFF Lacey because it's her birfday. She is now the big 2-5 and will join me in a quarter life crisis at any moment now.

Some highlights in the friendship of Lacey and Blythe:

• We meet in second grade-ish. Love at first sight in Ms. Wilson's class. We learn to mutiply and divide. One of us excels at this. I will let you guess.
• Baton performances in school talent shows. We are awesome. Our outfits are even awesomer.
• Catholic camp nightmare (I am not Catholic, in fact, I am not anything - awkward!)
• I'm too cool for middle school and relegate Lacey to after school friend status in favor of Limited Too wearing Brookhavenites whose parents drove Explorers and went to Breckenridge to ski during spring break. This lasts for about two minutes until I realize I am a total tard with braces in honor choir.
• X-tina and I do all kinds of weird things to Lacey during 8th-9th grade. Not sure why. Did we think we were funny? We did glue quarters to pay phone banks. Ha.
• Lacey plays tennis in high school, I buy a racket and have a yearbook photo taken, but we manage to go to a few tournaments together. She is very tan. I am jealous.
• We bake a lot of weird cakes and make our brothers eat them.
• I make Lacey participate in endless videotaped pieces of shit productions including talk shows, musical, the contents of my closet, music videos with elaborate sets and costumes. Yes. We have a band. It started off as Nephilim, but was changed to String Bean Philp (not me! it was x-tina!). We have one unselling album. Laceys is a songstress of the highest degree. She can also play bongos. I, of course, played cello and shook a jar full of macaroni. We sing a song about a dolphin store.
• We are awkward around boys from 1997 until present.
• We go to school in MA, but not together. I visit her in Boston, though. We eat chicken fried steak at the Chili's in Copley and watch independent movies. I complain about BU's security. Funny story - on Lacey's 21st, we were at a bar/dancey place in Boston and I am propositioned for a threesome.
• We lose touch except for holidays when I become a dick and only spend time with the exbf's family (mistake # 4,762,994).
• But now, we are together again! Across the street in our childhood bedrooms.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY LACEY!

Photo courtesy of x-tina.

You are one good BFF*, even if I'm not.

*I think "BFF" might be trademarked by Seventeen Magazine. Not sure.

Wine, Jidges, Bees, Song, Jeans

Wine: I've had a few glasses of wine. So sue me. I needed it for the baked polenta with mushrooms I made tonight for tomorrow night's dinner. Yeah, that's how I roll - I'm a regular Rachael Fucking Delish Ray. And since you asked, I am a kickass cook. According to me. Come eat dinner at my house. You will like it. On the menu for the past few days/weeks/whatever it all runs together when you're lonely and hungry (oh, and all made from scratch): Swedish meatballs, linguine with shrimp, parsley and garlic, chicken breasts stuffed with ham and gruyere, lentil soup, shrimp baked with feta, eggplant and tomatoes, chicken tortilla soup, grilled tequila lime cilantro chicken, blah blah blah. Yummo!

Jidges: I am totally and completely obsessed with So You Think You Can Dance. I am pretty much living Wednesday to Wednesday with unmemorable blog comments and a few (20) beers stuck in between. You have read about BreakUp06 ad nauseum, so you know that I have only cried three times since that fateful day. Well, now it's four. Tonight, when Shauna and Cedric performed Mia Michael's choreography and Debbie Allen was yelling and Mary was disappointed and Nigel was British and Mia was crying and Cedric's lips were quivering, I felt a tear - a real one. I told Lacey it was my allergies (she has a new kitten I have named Santino/Jerry Garcia), but damn it all if I didn't sniffle a bit/lot. And then, and then, Jaimie and Hok (hello most adorable baby pictures ever!) bust out some vintage Wade Robson moves which compelled him to grab his wife's hand and get all wattery eyed when the jidges began their critique. Fuck. This is only week three.

I want to marry you Wade Robson, but you already have a lady. You too, Mia, but you probably already have a lady.

I think SYTYCD should allow an audience member to select a song for Wade (sorry Mia) to choreograph tomorrow's group performance. I think that audience member should be me and the song should be



Bees: I am a worker bee! That is the lamest not joke ever. But seriously, I started the new job today. You can beat me up now, because I have insurance again! But, I will fight back with my ID card and my new office and my new name plate thingy. I am already in the directory. Yay! I can go to a gym now. I can legitimately bitch about shit. I have work study kids to do my bidding. Yay!

Song: Some people are addicted to meth (Shain), some are addicted to WOW (Alex), but I am addicted to playing the same song over and over and over again until I am singing along, but realize it's not playing and I'm in the grocery store. I cannot stop listening to this song. There's something about Jenny Lewis' voice and the lyrics that is so plaintive I can feel my heart break a little bit. And it feels kinda good.

Does He Love You - Rilo Kiley

Jeans: Fuck You Seven For All Mankind piece of shit jeans. First of all, you were obscenely expensive. I mean, I could've bought a PS3. Ok, more like an iPod Shuffle. I wear you once, then you get completely stretched out, which I initially enjoy because you delude me into thinking I am skinny for about two hours before you slowly start falling down my ass revealing my crack. Then I have to wash and dry you, only to be disappointed again, but I can't get rid of you because you cost so effing much.

Goulet Wednesday News Round Up

Holy crap, it's Wednesday again. Seems like I just did this. Is it me, or does this thing get worse every week?

• Britney's boob is at it again. There was a time when this would've been exciting or something, but now it's just kind of meh. [Egotastic!]

• What the ef? I've refrained from weighing in on this whole Paris goes to prison thing because frankly I think she should've paid a fine and been done with it, but this? This is outrageous. $1 million to teach an hour long Learning Annex class? Fuck you Paris. I set my alarm this morning for 5.30 so I can check TMZ to see you got pulled over for driving without extensions after busting LiLo out of Promises. $2 (that's all I have) says you haven't changed one bit. [dlisted]

via Pretty On The Outside

• More Pearl (you know, from The Landlord w/Will Ferrell)! Yes! via Radar

• What is she keeping in there? Seriously. Is she pregnant in her butt? [Molly Good]

• Oh no! Nancy Grace has spawned! [TMZ]

• I just fucking hate Pete Wentz. [Gawker]

• In local news, Oklahoma's looking for a new nickname. I'm not really sure why "Birthplace of The Most Awesome Person Ever (me)" won't work, but whatever. [NewsOK via The Lost Ogle]

• The Dramatic Chipmunk finally jumped the shark. It was a good week, though. If you like being forced to watch a prairie dog stare at shit. It was great. [Giggle Sugar]

Speaking of jumping the shark - Lily Allen is so played out. Maybe even more than Amy Winehouse, but damn, if I don't just love this song. It's summer bitches!

A quick note to [redacted]:

Dear [redacted],

Actually, can I just call you Dan? Or maybe [dan]. I mean, I feel like I know you, kind of how I feel like I know all of the characters from Designing Women - great show. My exposure to the blogosphere pretty much began with reading blogs on Gawker and clicking on every link (hence my addiction to all blogs NY) back when I had a mind numbing job that required me to be locked in a windowless office for 10 hours a day. I was intrigued by the inclusion of The Daily Dump on every blogroll. I needed to know more. From what I could tell, you had been the talk of the (blogo)town, then fell off the (blogo)wagon when your GF dumped you. It happens. At least to me. Anyway, it was November, and boom! There you were, posting again. And it was great. And you found love through your blog to boot! (I'm still waiting, so far I have only found disappointment. In myself.) But buddy, your last post was June 15th. What's up? I am hoping that Puppy isn't behind this, although I sensed something diabolical about that dog. Anyway, I was thinking maybe you could ease back into the swing of things with a Friday: Q & A post. You know, something simple. Maybe a little snippet from Brooke. In the meantime, at least Gawker came out with Jezebel. It's keeping me pretty busy what with all the talk of Vagisil and Justin Timberlake.

Cheers,

Blythe

Sofa King We Todd Did

I start a new job this week. A real one. With benefits and everything. I hope that I will have several hours for unfettered internetting, but I can only hope. They might expect me to do stuff. Basically, I think the ol' blog's going to suffer. Just a warning. Oh wait. Too late.

In my last day of freedom, I am doing productive things like eating Spaghettios, watching Entourage and Flight of the Conchords (still funny!) and trying to keep my head from exploding. I flipped to Comedy Central to see if I was lucky enough to catch an episode of Mad TV, but instead encountered a commercial for the Fishpen™. For a second I thought I was still drunk, but apparently this is for real. It's so mindblowingly fucktarded, I can't even devise some snarky rant about it. Of course, I want one for my briefcase. You get two for $39.99 (+ shipping and handling), so I'll give the other one to the first person to send me a MySpace friend request.*

This is a picture of my dog thinking about how stupid the Fishpen™ is.

Know what else is stupid? The O'Reilly Factor. But we all know that. I love to hate Fox, but this relationship has become complicated as I am absolutely obsessed with Red Eye (and in love with Bill Schulz, but who isn't - here is a sample of this crap fest), so sometimes I search the internets for Fox related news droppings. Today I found the following. It's spectacular. Jesse Lange, you are right up there with Michael Cera on my list of inappropriate crushes.



*This will not actually happen. I need two.

Zack Harrison Memorial Music Monday: Expanded Edition

Hi there folks. I love a good time as much as the next girl, but seriously. I am not in high school anymore. But I can hang out with my high school friends! Mike was in town last night. Usually he lives in Chicago, so it was a treat. I proceeded to imbibe one too many red cups and well, I danced, which is NEVER a good idea. Never. I can't find my earrings or my dignity.

This is Mike. We go way back. He is drinking the "red cup" which is $3.25 worth of awesome. Except when I drink it. I'm pretty sure he's rethinking my wedding invitation right about now.

I don't know who this guy is, but he was at our table. I'm sure we were introduced, but I'm not so good with names. Anyway, The Deli was packed as usual. Good times. Except not.

In music news, I decided to ramp it up a bit and say stuff besides list songs I like. Prepare to be bored because I am slowly and painfully weaning myself from my unbridled iTunes addiction:

Love, Love, Love - The Mountain Goats: I came across this song because of Brotherhood 2.0. You might have heard of this, but I had not. These guys decided they would only communicate via video blog for a year. Freaking amazing. Check out June 18: Leaving New York.

Icky Thump - The White Stripes: Oh White Stripes. You've done it again. I wish I wasn't one of the lemurs falling off the edge of a cliff over this one, but hey, what're you gonna do? They are, after all, the Clooneys of rock.



Power Of Two - Indigo Girls: This one goes out to the real Zack Harrison. How he knew I would need to know this song as a future student at Smith is bizarre. This song is as sappy as it gets, and it gets me every time.

I See A Different You - Koop: Thanks to World of B, from whom I learned of elbo.ws. More ways to waste my life away listening to music no one else I know likes. Yay!

I Wanna Buy You A Ring - Huffamoose: I am too trusting. I read a shit ton of blogs (by read I mean look at pictures and drool over witty comments) and am willing to listen to anything, but Jason Mulgrew, I want my $.99 back. I hate HATE this song, yet it remains in my current rotation. You are a snake in the grass.

The Underdog - Spoon: I do not fall in love easily. Or ever. Yet somehow, every Spoon song I hear is like a little Valentine. Perhaps it's simply the fact that the name of the band evokes the promise of food, which I do love - no question.

Award Tour - A Tribe Called Quest: The other day, I was talking to G-race and she somehow convinced me to do something completely out of character, which is pretty much par for the course in our relationship. So I went to t-mobile and downloaded this song. I have no idea why, but now I'm actually glad my phone never rings - not because of the song, but because I'm one of those people now.



My Rights Versus Yours - The New Pornographers: Dear Neko Case, I'm still pissed at you for canceling your show, but I do like this song. You still owe me, though.

Killer Parties - The Hold Steady: Still a little high from the show, still a little in love with Craig Finn.

Direct Hit - Art Brut: Not gonna lie, had no idea who these guys were until a week or so ago, but I'm down with it.

Mockingbird - Grant Lee Buffalo: Good night driving song. Good aimless day driving song.

I Never - Rilo Kiley*: I am apparently in high school again. Rumors are swirling. I am dating people I'm not, sleeping with people I won't, am afraid to show my face at a local bookstore, etc. Good times. What does any of this have to do with this song? Well, I was hanging out with some kids this weekend at the most depressing bar I've ever been to, but the jukebox was freaking amazing! I played Ryan Adams! I made people listen to Portions for Foxes. It was great! It's like I was living in my iPod.

*This is hilarious! I couldn't find the song, but did come across this little montage of Kate and Sawyer set to music. Astounding.

I am aged.

Jeebus. I am getting old. As of August this year, I should be completing my quarter life crisis, if things remain on schedule, when I turn 26. We'll see. At this point, I'm not hopeful. In the meantime, sometimes I forget that I'm not 18 anymore. Mostly when people yell at me and tell me I'm not 18 anymore when I am doing something absolutely retarded or trying to hit on college freshmen. But also when my brother drops a bomb of a question on me like the following. We're checking out Robot Chicken clips online because that's how we bond when he says, "Hey Blythe, what's a Trapper Keeper?" It's like I was smacked with a thousand leopard print and/or zebra striped slap bracelets. I suppose he doesn't know what pogs are either. Sweet Oden's Raven, I felt old. I don't know what the kiddies do these days to stay organized at school (my recent experience in public schools would suggest that they, in fact, do nothing to stay organized), but the TK was essential to keeping track of my assignments and most importantly, notes from my friend(s) and ones I wrote to myself from imaginary boyfriends. Unfortunately, I didn't keep any of my many Trapper Keepers and their accessories (all of which were mostly likely covered in stickers ranging from unicorns to STP) so I had no evidence to offer. I did, however, remember a South Park episode featuring this behemoth of organization.

The TK picture above totally sucks, but I couldn't find a better image. I remember mine being pretty sweet. But we all know my memory's not the best.

Cheers.

-b

It's Friday, I'm in Love (except it's Thursday, but I'll be busy tomorrow)

with The Voice: Steve Perry.

If you know me at all (and no one really does because, let's face it, who would want to? I am dark and twisty, but not in a sexy Meredith Grey kind of way, in a Shannen Doherty mixed with Kathy Griffin kind of way - I don't even know what that means.) chances are you're aware that I have an unusual affinity for all things Steve Perry and/or Journey related. The Voice is ranked number one on my list of top male singers ever (he is followed by Michael Bolton, Bob Dylan and Richard Marx - j/k, my real list is The Steve Perry, Freddy Mercury and Michael Bolton) and I will argue the angelic supremacy of his otherworldly vocal chords forever, or at least until my Pop-Tart is done. While The Steve Perry has always been (a) God in my book, it was the inclusion of the poptastic hit "Don't Stop Believin" in the exquisite finale of The Sopranos that brought Journey to the forefront of American culture. Again. [Where a band this great belongs. By this I mean before Steve Perry left.] Which is great for me, because now I have a legitimate reason to engage strangers in conversation about the greatness of that song, the band and SP. I want "Don't Stop Believin'" played as my first (choreographed) dance at my wedding. I want it blaring when we sign the divorce papers. I want it blasted at my funeral. Honestly, one of my happiest memories is jumping up and down at Siobhlogger's wedding to the live band that played the SHIT out of our request. It's also the only memory I have of her wedding, but that's neither here nor there. This song makes me want to be from New Jersey. Or maybe even Detroit. This song makes me want to hop into a Camero with T-tops and get a perm. I want to spontaneously translate this song into Spanish. I wish my name were Sherrie. Maybe just my middle name.


via Matt Sears Forever via Super Deluxe



And of course...

X-treme Ultimate Insomnia

I must've had too much coffee at Panera (yeah, whatevs) this evening because I can't sleep nor can I stop pissing (but at least this means my kidneys and liver still work - touché drinking problem). As usual, I am scouring the interwebs for porn (for the upcoming Casual Porn Friday feature sickos - it's work) and my thoughts somehow led me to my MySpace page (you have one too, so shut up), well, more my vanity than my thoughts. Or rather, my vain thoughts? I look at my pictures, thinking perhaps it's time to shake up the ol' blogger profile since my traffic has increased exponentially (to two) and briefly considered this little guy

but then reconsidered after thinking about how much explanation this photo would take, in spite of its awesomeness (to me). But now I have to explain it anyway. Dartmouth has a wonderful little get together called Winter Carnival. Basically, the whole town gets shit faced, jumps into frozen ponds, stares at a giant snow sculpture usually involving Dr. Suess and then alums and students alike drink their faces off at various frat parties for about 72 hours. In spite of not actually being a student at Dartmouth, I managed to attend five of these shit shows. I only remember about three minutes of one back in 2002. Anyway, so, at some point, I guess I decide to take this picture of Mr. Winterbottom (you remember him, don't you G-race?) because he's obviously passed out with ice skates on over the back of an overturned recliner. Funny. What's funnier (again, to me) is that Winterbottom wore a Bruce Springsteen outfit all 48 hours of the weekend (tapered jeans, white t-shirt, some kind of vest, bandana) - as well as the ice skates. Not kidding. But I guess that's the kind of hard work and dedication one would expect from an Ivy Leaguer. Honestly, most of the weekend was a blur (I think this was the year of my first Red Bull and vodka experience that ended with me doing God knows what, but I got a mysterious email from some guy the next week about a political rally at Smith) so I'm not sure if this happened that weekend, the year before or maybe even after, but I'm pretty sure sometime someone told me a story of Winterbottom, a gold thong and professional baseball. Later, I was shown the video of this, which I thought I would never find again. Lo and behold, tonight, I Google Winterbottom and golden thong and look! The video's kinda long, but kinda funny.

The Wintry Thong

Thank you and goodnight.

(late) Goulet Wednesday News Round Up

Sorry for phoning it in reader(s), but I've been really busy. Watching So You Think You Can Dance. It's two hours!

• Guess who's got a genie in her bottle? X-tina! I'm not sure how this is going to work since I'm pretty sure they tell you to lay off the hair color and tanning when you're preggers. [Page Six]
• Paris is still in prison. [WWTDD]
• My TV dance card is all full, so I don't watch Heroes, but I've been told this is weird. [dlisted]
• This week in viral blogging: The rise and fall of www.gayorjersey.com.
• This week in obvious news: Bill Clinton prefers onion rings over carrots. [Gawker]
• Katie Holmes definitely got a terrible hair cut, is maybe popping out another whatever Suri is. [Egotastic]
• Time and obscurity can be a cruel, cruel thing. [BWE]
• In a related story, Bai Ling only wishes she could do the Carleton. [IDLYITW]

Because if I don't laugh, I will probably cry

not for any particular reason, just in general. Also, I'm trying to join The Shitty Bloggers Club, so there's that.

Last night was my first Sunday A.T. I've decided I'm not watching John From Cincinnati because I really don't like Cincinnati, so don't even ask. Entourage totally stepped up to the plate last night. There was no Lloyd, but that's ok because Billy Walsh was fucking brilliant. I'm wearing a scarf/turban as we speak. Word on the street is that the rest of the season starts sucking when the boys return to LA, but last night was pretty sweet.

After that I stuck around for the premiere of Flight of the Conchords. I've been listening to them for a while now and was thrilled about the prospect of a show. The show's been getting a lot of mixed reviews, but I thought I'd give it a shot. I found it to be quite hilarious. I might be the only one. I have what some have called "a retarded sense of humor" so I don't know if I count. Also, Bret is adorable. Just adorable. My favorite song is Jenny. My brother and I can do it in parts. It's pretty great. No, really.



Since I was already on the couch, I settled in for the Robot Chicken Star Wars Marathon thingy. It was a little slice of heaven. I laughed so hard I almost puked, mostly because I was hungover, but also because it was fucking hilarious. Just watch. Trust me.

Zack Harrison Memorial Music Monday: Anniversary of my unceremonious dumping edition.

Update: Mr. Shain weighs in.


Today, I think, marks the day the exbf dumped me. I'm not gonna lie, it's been rough going, but I think I'm going to pull through. Someday.


I wrote this super long, whiney ass post about everything, then realized it was crap. The exbf sucked in a lot of ways, but it's all in the past. Bygones.

This week's break-up playlist:

Lover I Don't Have To Love - Bright Eyes
Littles Things - Lily Allen
Song for the Dumped - Ben Folds Five
Handle With Care - Jenny Lewis
She's Got You - Patsy Cline
Somebody That I Used To Know - Elliott Smith
Single Again - The Fiery Furnaces
I'm Sorry I Love You - The Magnetic Fields
Let's Not Belong Together - Pete Yorn
How Come You Don't Call Me Anymore - Prince
High and Dry - Radiohead
If I Ever Feel Better - Phoenix
Don't Think Twice, It's Alright - Bob Dylan
Broken One - Luke Doucet
Alternative to Love - Brendan Benson
Lovers Need Lawyers - The Good Life
Pictures - Sia
Why Does It Always Rain On Me? - Travis
The One That Got Away - Tom Waits
I'm A Broken Heart - The Bird and the Bee
Come Pick Me Up - Ryan Adams
The District Sleeps Alone Tonight - The Postal Service
Smile - Lily Allen
Let It Die - Feist
I Am Trying To Break Your Heart - Wilco
I Don't Love Anyone - Belle and Sebastian

Hopefully sometime soon I'm finally unheartbroken playlist:

Better Together - Jack Johnson
Sweet Thing - Van Morrison
Us - Regina Spektor
Sundress - Ben Kweller
Gamble Everything For Love - Ben Lee
Thirteen - Big Star
In A Little While - U2
Power of Two - Indigo Girls
How Can I Tell You - Cat Stevens
Inside and Out - Feist
First Day of My Life - Bright Eyes
Always Love - Nada Surf
Parentheses - The Blow
Dream - Alice Smith
I'm The Man Who Loves You - Wilco
This Will Be Our Year - Ok Go
Maps - Yeah Yeah Yeahs
Piazza, New York Catcher - Belle and Sebastian
Ambulance - T.V. on the Radio
I Will Follow You into the Dark - Death Cab for Cutie
Let My Love Open the Door- M. Ward
I'll Be Your Mirror - Clem Snide
Such Great Heights - The Postal Service
Love, Love, Love - As Tall As Lions

It's Friday, I'm in Love

with my motherfucking car, that's what. It's finally here! Just picked 'er up. Yes, i realize she's a pile (not unlike this blog), but I love her. She vibrates like an electric toothbrush with meth toothpaste yet I find myself feeling an indescribable affection toward her, not unlike a second pet. In any case, I can go places now! As long as it doesn't involve speed limits over 50 - 53 tops or distances greater than 20 miles - she's a fragile ladycar. So call me and I'll meet you there! In the meantime, I forgot it was jam packed with my summer clothes. I've been shopping out of my trunk for the past half hour.

Mr. Shain, please note today's date (you may have to click on it). I TOLD YOU. Recognize.

Also, I was trying to light a candle with a wick way down in the bottom of the candle crater by angling and aligning the candle, the lighter and my eye when I singed part of my left eyebrow. It's not too noticeable because I have light eyebrows, but still, just wanted to warn anyone I might see.

Oh, to be me.

You're not going to call, are you.

Live Blogging The Daily Show

Please, please, please tell me you were watching tonight. Please.

10.11 - eh.

10.13 - Holy shit! Gary England is on The Daily Show! Jesus H. Christ this commercial is fucking scary. Scarier than all of the tornadoes I've actually been in combined. Crap! Was that thunder? Gary? Gary!

Uh, sorry.

That last post was kinda, well, terrible. I think I've hit a blogging brick wall. I probably hit it before I actually started this blog, but that's just timing. Here's an apology of a link since I am always scouring the blogosphere thinking of you. If you obsess about The Sopranos and music as much as I do, then you're going to love this™.

via Stereogum: Score The Sopranos.

Where the wind comes sweepin' down the plain

I am in a love/hate relationship with this state. Mostly hate. I kid. There are a lot of shitty things about this place, namely James Inhofe, 3.2 beer and toll roads, but there are some good things too. Like Sonic™. That might be it. Oh, and Garth Brooks! And severe weather! Last night, I was trying to watch So You Think You Can Dance (which shall henceforth be referred to as SYTYCD or the greatest show ever) and stupid Mike Morgan or Gary England or whatever the fuck his name is keeps breaking in to tell me about some stupid tornado 300 miles away. I think the parasitic microscopic map of Oklahoma has been feeding off of my favorite shows all season. WE GET IT. This is Oklahoma. You know, where the movie Twister was filmed? Anyway, I do learn something from the constant barrage of doom and the endless ticker relaying warning after warning at the top of the screen: Oklahoma's got some fucked up names for towns. I mean nuts. There seem to be five categories (this is only a small sampling as Oklahoma has 77 counties of wonder from which to draw):

Kind of normal:
Norman
Oklahoma City

Probably Native American (inspired):
Catoosa
Checotah
Etowah
Keota
Lenepah
Lookeba
Ninnekah
Ochelata
Okmulgee
Oktaha
Olustee
Oolegah
Paoli
Pawhuska
Sapulpa
Sasakwa
Skiatook
Talequah
Talihina
Tishomingo
Watonga
Wapanucka
Waurika
Weleetka

Combinations of Oklahoma + neighboring state/area or other nonsense:
Centrahoma
Indiahoma
Indianola
Lahoma
Texhoma
Texola

Stolen:
Boise City
Burbank
Delaware
Fargo
Geronimo
Gene Autry
Jamestown
Kingston
Maimi (said Miamuh)
Pittsburg
Prague (said Praygue)

Bat shit crazy:
Bokoshe
Bokchito
Bowlegs
Camargo
Corn
Dill City
Disney
Faxon
Foyil
Gotebo
Grainola
Grand Lake Towne
Hydro
Jet
Ketchum
Krebs
Kremlin
Loco
Lotsee
Minco
Oilton
Pink
Silo
Slaughterville
Spavinaw
Strang
Sulpher
Talala
Taloga
Vici
Wyandotte

Perhaps offensive:
Fallis
Hooker

Goulet Wednesday News Round Up

Hey kids! You might have noticed the format change here at the bee-spot. It's still in its infancy as I'm not very good at the computers, but rest assured that I am trying to make this a more fun place to waste your time!

-So, this show called The Sopranos ended. I can't say any more about it, so I'll let others do the talking.
Required reading:
Sopranos Monday: Season 6, ep. 22 "Made in America" by Matt Zoller Seitz via The House Next Door.
Via Lindsayism:


-Who cares news: Nicole's still with that guy from Good Charlotte? [TMZ]

-Holy crap! Get this guy a vasectomy. I'm probably preggers just from reading this story. [dlisted]

-Nice one Brit! [WWTDD] Oh, and this too! [Celebitchy]

-Dan Rather thinks girls are stupid. Tart this, bitch. [Jossip]

-R.I.P. Mr. Wizard. [The Life and Times]

-Hello Hermione! [Mollygood]


-Liev Schreiber is creepy. Congrats Naomi! [IDLYITW]

-The rest of the poop in one place: BWE.

The Forefoot

Tonight, Lacey and I headed to Starbucks for our weekly (or semi annual, depending) meeting of the minds. We solve all of the world's problems while expertly avoiding our own (ok, that's just me). It takes hours and at least $12 worth of heavily caffeinated beverages.

Things learned:
1)Lacey works in the medical field and sees a variety of amazing shit, like this little gem. For some reason, a nine year old kid needs a skin graft on his foot. Don't ask. We don't know. It is decided to circumcise said kid and use his foreskin as grafting material. Yup. I'm afraid to say anything else since I already have a criminal record (just kidding - or am i?).
2) I am good at proofreading, but full of hate.
3) I know every song, who it's by, and have an 83.4% chance of guessing what album it's on. Do not mess with me. It is the one thing I am consistently good at.
4) Not everyone get my "humor."

This is for you Lacey. Funny story, sometimes I say Neil Diamond when I mean Neil Young. Maybe not so much funny as sad. Both are geniuses, though, so it works out.

Summer in the City

Norman, OK to be precise. I've decided to initiate a regular post in which I will suggest fun things to do in the Sooner State. I predict a max of three things per post. We'll see. I'm doing this more for myself than you (which is pretty accurate for most of this blog), but maybe you'll benefit a little. Who knows. If you live in Norman, get out there! Hell, give me a call, I'll see you there! If you don't, be grateful. This might be a horrible idea. I'm not sure yet.

Week of June 11:

Tuesday

-300 is at the dollar theater. I didn't see it in the theater and am half tempted. It's gotta be better than Hostel 2, right? Maybe not. 12:30, 4:05, 7:15, 9:50.

Wednesday-Harry and the Potters at Sooner Theater, 7.30p FREE. If you think that's dorky, check THIS out! If you're not on a sex offenders list, I would suggest at least entertaining the possibility of watching a couple of kids sing about Harry and co. It's kind of fantastic in an embarrassing kind of way. Poke fun if you must.
-Take your inner dork to the next level and learn to knit at the Happy Cat Yarn Shop.

Thursday
-Sunset Cinema - John Travolta night. Grease and Urban Cowboy for $5. Dusk behind the Melting Pot parking lot in Bricktown. I dunno. Could be interesting.
-Try some Red Hot Dutch Balls at Forward Foods. Buy some FAGE yogurt while you're there too. It's sooo good.

Friday
-Bricktown Blues & BBQ Fest @ corner of Sheridan & Oklahoma Ave. FREE! Food!
-Colourmusic and Ryan Lindsey at VZDs, 10p.

Saturday
-Farmers Market, 615 East Robinson, Norman, 8-12. Local produce and cheap too.
-Dim Sum at Grand House!
-Hosty Duo at the Deli. Always a good time.

Sunday
-Look at dinosaurs. Sam Noble Museum of Natural History. It's there. We should all check it out time to time.
-Laundry @ my house. Free!
-Black Rebel Motorcycle Club @ The Diamond Ballroom, 7p. Tickets $20. Too rich for my poor-ass blood, but maybe not for you.
-Hosty solo at the Deli. $3. Prepare to wait in line.

You're IT! (tag)

I see people doing this business all the time, but I've never been called to duty. Thanks Julie. Maybe. Unless this is a trick.

INSTRUCTIONS: Remove the blog in the top spot from the following list and bump everyone up one place. Then add your blog to the bottom slot, like so.

1) Whiskeymarie
2) FeistyMnGirl
3) What Greg Likes
4) A Blog of a Good Time
5) bee-spot

Select five people to tag:
Shain
DanAlex
Jess
Siobhlog

What were you doing 10 years ago?
I was 15, right? So, I was babysitting my mom's boss's turd of a son. Probably watching Golden Girls reruns, eating Triscuits, fantasizing about driving and the like.

What were you doing 1 year ago?
Ha! I was living in my cozy apartment, with my awesome dog and my cheating boyfriend.

Five snacks you enjoy:
1. Twizzlers
2. Triscuits + Easy Cheese
3. finger + Easy Cheese
4. air-popped popcorn + copious amounts of kosher salt
6. red Skittles

Five songs that you know all the lyrics to: it's hard to choose, because I retain lyrics like I retain lbs.
1. Bust A Move - Young MC
2. Eternal Flame - The Bangles
3. Get It Together - Beastie Boys
4. Don't Stop Believin'! - Journey
5. It's The End Of The World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine) - R.E.M. (I don't really, no one does. Maybe not even Michael Stipe.)

Five things you would do if you were a millionaire:
1. Pay off my student loans. All $100k of them.
2. Shop the Neiman Marcus Christmas Catalog (childhood dream).
3. Pay d-cup celebrisluts to attend my 26th b-day extravaganza.
4. Buy a better blog.
5. Donate to Partners in Health. For reals.

Five bad habits:
1. Drinking
2. Smoking
3. Drinking and smoking together
4. Wiping my hands on my jeans
5. Forgetting everything all the time.

Five things you like doing:
1. Drinking
2. Smoking
3. Drinking and smoking together
4. Wiping my hands on my jeans
5. Forgetting everything all the time.

Five things you would never wear again: most things I would never wear again because I lost them somewhere.
1. suspenders - remember that? skirts over some kind of short + suspenders = 1988!
2. Brighton earrings. Perhaps a midwestish thing. You know.
3. Hypercolor t-shirt (j/k! I'm looking for one on ebay.)
4. I'm going to have to go with perm too.
5. stirrup pants

Five favorite toys:
1. Glow Worm
2. Easy Bake Oven
3. My Little Pony
4. Fireworks
5. Boxes

Zack Harrison Memorial Music Monday

Hey there sports fans. So, I was able to both watch The Sopranos and go to The Hold Steady. Which was totally sweet and awesome. Ohmygoditwasgreat. Blitzen Trapper solidly opened the show. I'm not all that familiar with their stuff beyond "Texaco," but I was impressed and will be downloading more. At one point, the lead singer asked how the crowd knew their music. It was silent. I didn't have the heart to scream out pandora.com! Next up was Illinois, who rocked the shit out of the place. I'm a sucker for "Screen door," in fact, it might be my summer song, and was delighted to hear it live. Then, the magic that is The Hold Steady started. If you've listened at all, you know that it's kinda campy bar music, but sometimes more subversive, sometimes more musical than it lets on. You also know that Craig Finn sorta talk-sings every song. To see him do it live, was both strange and fantastic. He kinda twitches about, makes strange gestures with his eyes and hands, dances like a small child with jerky kicks and goofy stares. Weird, but intriguing. Also, I realized why I like (love) him so much - he sounds like John McCrea of Cake with the monotone sometimes. Anyway, they trounced through a lot of the new album and some classics like "Your Little Hoodrat Friend" and "Killer Parties." They did not play "Chillout Tent" which was a travesty as I had dreams of being pulled on stage to sing the lady part. But, this absence made me realize that "You Can Make Him Like You" is the real standout on this album, hands down, it's the best song. By the end of the night I was totally and happily spent, drenched in a mixture of my own sweat (it was fucking sweltering in there - Opolis, get some air conditioning or something - perhaps a window) and Craig Finn's spit. I also realized that I like rocker boys. Perhaps it's because I'm creatively stifled and fairly straight laced that I want someone kind of nuts, but talented. In fact, thinking back to all of the booty/non-relationships I've had over the past year, 75% have been in bands and one kid lived with the band, that counts, right? The show ended with a father/son/son (the little kid was 10!) team, who have apparently been following the band around, coming on stage and rocking out while the crowd went nuts. It was a nice feeling. Exhausted, Josh and I walked outside into the rain and had to sit on the sidewalk to immediately discuss what we thought. I gotta say, I'm more into The Hold Steady than ever.

Hey, here's a shitty picture from my phone!


This week's playlist (All stars in bold):

The Beast and Dragon, Adored - Spoon
Ladyflash - The Go! Team
D.A.N.C.E. - Justice: WARNING. You will tire of this song very soon even though it's kind of awesome. Be careful.



Make it Up - Carla Werner
Cloche - French Kicks
Alison - Elvis Costello
Oversleeping - I'm From Barcelona
I'm Sorry I Love You - The Magnetic Fields
Come to Me - Koop
Hurry Before Worry - Downtown Harvest
Aguas de Marzo - Antonio Carlos Jobim and Elis Regina
Melt Your Heart - Jenny Lewis and the Watson Twins
Dreamers and Giants - Blitzen Trapper
You're a Wolf - Sea Wolf
Lazy Lover - Brazilian Girls
The White Whale - Beirut
Thirteen - Big Star
Brother - Annuals
Alone Again - Illinois
Demon Days - Gorillaz

Live blogging the final Sopranos episode

UPDATE - What other peeps are saying:

Here's Gawker's take.
And Best Week Ever. Props for dredging up Six Feet Under. That damn Sia song makes me bawl everyfreakingtime.
And Jossip. More later. I have a life. No, not really.

I still can't decide if it was the best ending ever or the most horrible finale known to TV kind. I think it was the best, aside from showing that girls can't parallel park. The biggest question it poses is what am I supposed to devote my life to now? Anyone?

8:56pm - ooh, I love this song!
9:00pm - WHAT THE FUCK?!

In which I have to make my own sort of Sophie's choice

I suppose I shouldn't joke about such things, but it's kinda true. I woke up this morning to birds chirping, the smell of coffee and a general good mood. Actually, that's not true. It was a car alarm, the smell of wine from the glass left next to my bed and I'm in a pissy mood. You know why? 1) Not that this is news to anyone, but the final Sopranos episode airs tonight (Holy crapballs! I can't believe it's finally here!). It's going to be so good, I'm pretty sure it'll make me want to kill myself. 2) The Hold Steady show is tonight. AT THE SAME TIME! I'm honestly conflicted. Sure, I can watch the Sopranos later, but I kinda need to watch it along with the rest of America so that I can immediately start talking shit about it and/or collapse into a sobbing pile in my living room floor. But I've also been super excited about this damn show for weeks now because I am a dork. I mean, come on! Craig Finn! At this point, I really don't know what I'll do. Maybe miss a few songs and risk shitty seats/standing area? Oh God. Just kill me now. In the meantime, I should probably drink something. It's Sunday, right? Mimosas and Bloody Marys!

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It's Friday, I'm in Love

with Bear Grylls. Yes, it's true. I know I've been on the Les Stroud side of this battle, but I happened to catch a bit of the Bear on Oprah last night (yes, I was watching an Oprah rerun on KOCO Channel 5, which is actually channel 8 at 11pm last night) and had a little epiphany, or maybe indigestion, but I felt something. I think seeing him choke up a bit while talking about his fallen Everest co-climbers melted a little piece of my glacier heart that, so far, Les has been unable to survive by starting a fire with his underwear, a coconut and his own boogers (oh, plus his name is Bear! Bear beats Les). I do have a few qualms with Man vs. Wild, like his camera man should be recognized for his kickassedness since he braves the same treacherous conditions as Bear (likewise, the Survivorman should be praised since he lugs his shit around all by his lonesome) and there's the fact that this dude's bat shit crazy for pulling the stunts he does - but I guess that just makes me love him more. Everyone knows I love the crazies. Maybe Bear and Les should get together and do a little something (Les can run the camera). I'd like to see them survive a Friday night in the Homeland parking lot in Norman, OK where all of the rednecks circle their trucks for a night of what I imagine is Skoal, Kenny Chesney, and statutory rape punctuated with cries of "git 'er done."

Photo-off:

Bear vs.

Canadian

What this is telling you is that I am a huge dork. Yes, I stay home and sit around the house watching Survivorman and Man vs. Wild, but it doesn't end there. I love Jamie and Adam on Mythbusters with all of my useless heart (especially Jamie - did you know he has a degree in Russian Language and Literature?). I have almost every episode of Modern Marvels memorized (but I still don't know how anything works). It's a sickness. Date me!

Things are getting weird around here

I've been thinking and here's what I've come up with:

1. "I'm not in love" by 10cc was a song waaayy ahead of its time. Three guys on synthesizers? Some lady punching you in the ears whispering "big boys don't cry?" Amazing. Those of you who know me, know that I have been obsessed with this song since my youth, as it appeared on my dad's beloved "mowing tape." Let me back this train up a minute. It's 1992 and I have just gotten my first Sony Sport yellow Walkman (ok, I don't know if it's really 1992, but maybe? probably?) and I need a tape for its maiden voyage. My dad, as a musician, is obvs a music junkie and has a buttload of records/tapes/reel to reel/8 tracks crowding a tiny room in our house. Every so often, he would tap the collection to create a mix tape for various purposes, the best of which was labeled "mowing tape." This particular masterpiece included classics like Ventura Highway, Desperado, Everything I Own, Rocket Man, Uncle Albert/Admiral Halsey, Sister Golden Hair, Life in the Fast Lane, Band on the Run, and of course, I'm Not In Love - pretty much a Time Life Middle America Collection of awesome. What makes the whole thing even better is the memory of Dad's mowing regalia. We're talking white shorts, t-shirt, socks with pristine white sneakers accessorized with a red, white and blue head band/wrist band set, accented by a 15 pound walkman, ginormous headphones, chew and a PBR. Point is, I traded in Boyz II Men, Genesis, Paula Abdul, Bryan Adams, Ugly Kid Joe and the like for 10cc and crew. I memorized Ram. I know that David Gates is from Tulsa. I was (am) a weird kid. Sometimes, when I'm not paying attention, I find myself humming, then analyzing the lyrics "I keep your picture upon the wall / It hides a nasty stain that's lyin' there" - what? This is kind of gross. You're not going to win her back that way, buddy.



2. Everyone worth dating is already dating someone and has since at least 2005, maybe even 2004. I don't say this to be mean, it's just fact (hey, I'm in this group too). Back in 2005, I had a boyfriend and didn't know I needed to be looking for a new one. Also, marriage is the new black. I thought the idea was to wait till you've found yourself and shit. How come everyone's scrambling to tie the knot now? Medicine keeps getting better and better. We're going to live for a long time.

3. I want something to make me as happy as this guy! That something just might be the Season 2, Disc 2 of Arrested Development I'm about to watch. Maybe. But probably not. Wait, he might actually be terrified, not happy. Maybe they're the same thing.


4. I keep reading all of these posts about who people'd go gay for. Well, I'll tell you. Tina Fey and Mary Lynn Rajskub.

5. Dresses over jeans make as much sense as Die Hard 4 (Live Free of Die Hard, whatevs).

Goulet Wednesday News Round Up

UPDATE: I have learned of the following and feel compelled to share without creating a new post that none of you will read anyway.

Funny or Die is the new YouTube.

Jenna Elfman would be funnier were she not a Scientologist. Just can't get past it. Ok, I can. This is pretty, pretty, pretty funny.



Via BWE: This scares me, but I'm laughing.

Fun Fact: Travis McCoy (of Gym Class Heroes) and I share the exact same birthday!

Here at the bee-spot, we've been thinking that content needs a little shake-up, so don't be surprised to encounter some new features and say goodbye to others. Also, don't be surprised if nothing changes or if all posts are discontinued. But until then, here's the crap:

• I saw Knocked Up this week. It was pretty good. This smoking hot girl with slacker, but charming chubby dude premise is wearing thin, though. When's it gonna be schlubby girl and Paul Rudd-like guy? I'm waiting. Oh, and when are people going to think of their own ideas, Judd? [Radar via Gawker]

• Clearly, Cam has unwittingly become part of one of his "illusions." Wow, bet that hasn't been said 4,000 times. Times are hard here at the bee-spot. [popsugar]

• You know who I hate more than Rachael Ray? Eli Roth's Hostel: Part II. Dude, you're like the Joe Rogan of movies. Awesome. [Defamer]

• Balls to the wall Melfi! Sunday's episode was so face melting, I still have a hangover. Do not be surprised if all that is left of me after the last episode are my unpedicured feet after I spontaneously combust. [Breitbart]

• I should be shocked, but really I'm just relieved that someone dresses worse than me. [dlisted]

• In a related story, I'm glad someone's got bigger ones than me. Oh, she's pregnant. Blah. [WWTDD]

• Blasphemy! Hilarious muggle blasphemy! Wand rape? Did I really just type that? [BWE]

See you next week kiddos!

Zack Harrison Memorial Music Monday: Curry of Death Edition.

Yesterday, I decided I would make some sort of a ghetto curry because, well, I like curry and all of the Indian restaurants here pretty much suck. I started off by sweating some onions, then added ginger and garlic. While this was "working" as fucktard Rachael Ray would say (just don't ask how I'd know what she says), I par-boiled some potatoes. This curry was destined to be meatless (and tomatoless - no canned diced tomatoes, whatevs). When the onions were tender, I added three heaping tablespoons of Patak's hot curry paste. It smelled like heaven. I stirred it about, drained and dumped in the potatoes and topped the whole thing off with some defrosted frozen peas. Your mouth is watering, I know. To cut the presumed heat, I added a generous dollop of plain yogurt. Seemed authentic or something. I let it cool for a minute, fluffed the basmati, then took a heaping forkful of ghetto potato/pea curry. And then my face exploded. Now, I pride myself on at least trying the hottest of the hot shit, but dizzamn, this stuff was crazy hot! My nose immediately began to run, my eyes watered, I thought I was dying. The yogurt totally fell asleep on the job. I plunged my arm into the fridge to grab hold of the milk, my culinary nemesis, and drank right out of the carton. It reminded me of this time when it was decided there was nothing better to do after climbing Mt. Mousilauke (mountain near Dartmouth) in the dead of winter than to tuck into some pad thai at Mai Thai in Hanover. I ordered one star, but my dining companions decided to be real assholes and go for off the chart stars, the waitstaff was obviously nonplussed by their request, then realized they were Dartmouth assholes. Painful hilarity ensued. Aside from this latest trip into taste bud hell, this was the hottest substance I have ever had in my mouth. A fistful of wasabi would be pretty intense, but it's a brief punch to the neck. This was what I imagine a swift kick to the balls would be like - searing pain radiating slowly throughout the body. Anyway, I had my few bites, almost threw up and ordered that lassi shit and went into a near diabetic coma. I woke later that night to find the boys sitting in their underwear, sweating, high as kites, trying to shovel the leftovers into their mouths. I refused to go in the bathroom after them. The morel is, when waiters at Thai restaurants sneer at you, order one star hotter.

No relation to curry and in no particular order, this week's descriptionless, linkless playlist:

Summersong - The Decemberists
In State - Kathleen Edwards
Brother - Annuals
Music is my Hot, Hot Sex - CSS
Melt Your Heart - Jenny Lewis
Jolene - Ray Lamontagne
Boats and Birds - Gregory and The Hawk
How You Went So Far - Frank Black & The Catholics
West Coast - Coconut Records
Stay Free - Black Mountain
Winter on Vistoria Street - The Clientele
I Am Trying to Break Your Heart - Wilco
Mollena - James Hunter
Tres Tres Chic - Mocean Worker
Ocean Night Song - Laura Veirs
The Park - Feist
My Eyes - Travis
Who Discovered America - Ozomatli
Lazy Lover - Brazilian Girls
Ol'55 - Tom Waits

These pretzels are making me thirsty!

That's a lie. I'm not even eating pretzels. Mainly because they are healthy and I'm not really into that whole thing. Guess what I did last night! Guess! I'll bet you can't! Guess again anyway! I went with L-Ma to see Jerry Seinfeld perform at the Civic Center! Exclamation points to the maxx!!!!! It was totally sweet and awesome. It was everything I hoped for and more. He was really great. He yelled a lot more than I had anticipated, but I was ok with that. What I was not ok with were my audience mates. Lacey was well behaved, of course, but the guy sitting next to her was a serious knee slapper/foot stomper/keel over kind of situation. He was old too. Not cool, man. We didn't know if you were laughing or dying. There were some ladies directly behind me that were repeaters. Simply repeating the last line said doesn't really make anything funnier. Mostly, it just proves you have good short term memory, and I'm a little impressed (read jealous, I can't remember for shit these days) with that when I'm not being annoyed by it. There were no cameras allowed, of course, but if there were, I surely would have taken a picture of the single greatest thing I might have ever seen in my life. And I've seen a lot. Not really, but anyway. So, we're waiting for the show begin and Lacey and I are engaged in our favorite sport, making fun of people's outfits and hair while ignoring our own, when in walks, oh God, it's too good, in walks a guy, wait for it, I'm building this up way too much, right, so in walks this guy wearing a PUFFY SHIRT! The puffy shirt! (Well, not the puffy shirt, it's at the Smithsonian.) We clapped. I'm really not sure what would drive one to wear a puffy shirt to a Seinfeld show, perhaps loss of a contest (ha!) or something, but damn. That totally made my day. Perhaps many days. Then I ate Mexican food. Honestly, there's not much better than that.

Except today, I've been lounging about on the patio reading Chuck Klosterman (fuck you Gawker, I like him) listening to my super awesome summertime mix I just made watching my dog try to chase and eat various flying insects.

for your reference:

It's Friday, I'm in Love

with turning the reins over to (18 year old and recent high school graduate! it was a close one.) brother bee-spot. He's usually a good writer (emphasize "usually") and I'm lazy so I thought guest blogging would be a fantastic idea. He's acting like he doesn't want to do it or that I had to bribe him to lower his standards to this pile, but don't believe him.

Guest Blog Thingy…
Ehh… so I’m Blythe’s younger (i.e. better) brother Josh, and I’m “guest blogging” as a trade off for food —I’m a simple person, it seems. Since I’ve no idea what a conventional guest blogger writes about, I’m just going to rant about something random. I’ll just look around this drab computer room for a moment… ahh there. All right, so video iPods: convenience personified or The Man’s wet dream? I would contend the second. Who the hell in their right mind actually needs every goddamn Scrubs episode ready to watch on a 1.5 by 1.5 inch screen? No one, damn it, no one. And yet I feel supremely confident that NBC (Christ, those keys are close together—coincidence…?) has made kazillions, which, by the way, is a real number, of dollars selling “convenience” for $1.99 a pop. Bastards. Not to mention the film industry, who probably blew their collective loads at the iPod video’s unveiling. A measly credit/debit card number is all you need to pump dollar after useless dollar into their accounts, and for what? So you can watch a pathetically miniature version of the 40 Year Old Virgin? Though it must be said that the 99-cent music situation is a similar racket, at least music doesn’t rely on its medium near as much as video. A song sounds the same coming out of your headphones or a stereo, whereas Zach Braff manages to look even smaller on the iPod’s screen than a TV. Goddamn you Apple. Goddamn you.

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