Not to get all political and shit, but...

I had to watch Obama's speech and Bobby Jindal's rebuttal online after I got home from work last night. At midnight. You don't think that when you go into higher education, that you'll be working from 6am to midnight, but oh well. Anyway, I'm not sure if it was because I was barely lucid or if there is a real similarity, but... Bobby Jindal = Kenneth from 30 Rock.

Let's compare photos:

Kenneth

Bobby

Here are some clips. I especially appreciate the "oh God" courtesy of MSNBC. That Matthews.

Bobby

Here's the full speech.

Visit msnbc.com for Breaking News, World News, and News about the Economy

Kenneth




Seriously? Really? Seriously?

Cringesday: D.O.R.K.

Guess what's even worse than OKC morning traffic? (And it's really not bad because of congestion, it's bad because people in OK think the left lane is for trucks and minivans going 63 through a 70 uphill with Jesus fish stickers plastered to the rear bumber.) OKC traffic with no stop lights. I left extra early this morning to account for this possibility, but alas, I ended up tacking on an extra 20 minutes from sitting at 4-way stops as dumbasses tried to figure out how they work. WTF!? Anyway, to quash my road ragicidal tendencies, I took my morning routine to the extreme.

DearJustice (pron. justeece according to Shain),

Your hit single, D.A.N.C.E. is personally responsible for the remaining modicum of sanity I have during this time of state-wide emergency. Listening on repeat for an hour somehow really calmed my already threadbare nerves. I refuse to tire of this song, even though they played it on MTVu. Thanks weird French dudes.

As strong as you might
Working day and night
Whatever happens
Do the DANCE (do the dance)

Cringesday: Deck My Balls

*UPDATE - Cringe this: So, I was just told only moments ago that I (me!) can have a membership to Sam's (Club) courtesy of work! How happy am I?! Really happy! Why? Because, seriously, there is nothing more wonderful than buying in bulk. Last time I had a Costco membership, I actually bought white gravy mix in bulk. Oh damn. It's gonna be a good year.

You know what Christmas means to me? Besides utter disappointment and those delightful chewy peppermint candies, the ones in the plastic wrappers with little Christmas trees on them, I think they come in both green and red (!) it means that I can freely listen to Mariah Carey's masterpiece, "All I Want For Christmas Is You." Truth be told(and that's not what we're really about here, so don't get used to it) I listen to this little diddy all year. In honor of the season, I present you with a brief list of the totally ridiculous things I want for Christmas. My material gluttony is quite embarrassing.

Le Creuset Cookware - Yes, I know these items are tremendously expensive, but I am a jerk. So what.



National Geographic subscription - The exbf's dad used to get me this as an annual gift. It was pretty sweet. I guess the new chick's getting it now.

Rabbit Corkscrew - Not to be confused by the other rabbit.

Cooks Illustrated subscription - Yes. I like to read, drink and cook. Call me. Let's go out. I'm so much fun.

Cashmere leggings from J. Crew - My ass looks just like this! Except not at all. Not even a little. Dear J. Crew, really? $150 cashmere leggings? What are you trying to do to me and my bank account?



Planet Earth DVD Set - Because I don't already watch enough TV. It's educational. Blow me.

Harry Potter Box Set - Hi, I'm a totalus nerdiamus.

Expensive girly underwear from Anthropologie - since my clothes are from the clearance rack at the GAP or F21.

So, if you are planning to purchase any of these items for your favorite blogstress (more likely, you've stumbled on this page while googling "Shain's lady garden"), please email me for sizes and my address. Seasons blessings and all that crap.

Cringesday: Failure At Funny Edition

Last night, Shain lured me over to his house under the pretense of, fine, I kind of knew what was about to happen. He wanted to film me watching this video or something. What else am I going to do on a balmy November night? Oh right. Walk my dog forever and play with the new make up I got with Lacey. Which explains why I look like a street walker nearing retirement in this video. I can't make excuses for my lame comments. I can say that I'm much prettier in person and Shain is actually much less prettier in person. Here's the link, if you dare. And I wouldn't.

Two Girls One Cup, We're Not Funny

Cringesday: Remember when we were young?

My darling little 9 or 11 year old cousin (There are so many, I forget exact ages, ok? Sue me.) just sent this to me. She discovered email a few weeks back and I've been bombarded with little snippets into her world ever since. Her missives sometimes crack me up, sometimes break my heart, but always make me glad I've grown up (theoretically). I've drafted about 300 responses and none of them seem to convey anything useful, including instead helpful advice like "you'd better quit band now if you ever want a boyfriend" or "stressed out!? try a pregnancy scare then call me back about 'stressed out'" and "definitely keep playing basketball even if your teammates hate you and you're on a losing team because no one likes a fatty." So you see, I need your help. What do I say?

Hey Blythe, Whats up? We had to play our instruments for a bonfire a couple of days ago. It was so much fun! How are things going at your place? Hope your having fun at your school. Speaking of school, we had a couple of b-ball games over the past couple of days. Out of three games,we only lost both. But then yesterday we had another game: The 5 and 6 grade girls won, the 5 and 6 grade boys won, and the high school girls lost.[ aww man!] Enough about me, what about you? I'm so stressed out! There is so many things going on at our school. Your friends all reject you, then you are told that you're not a starter, and there is so many things to be mad about! Well, I gotta go and do my laundry. Talk to you later! Love you!

Cringesday: I am a d-bag edition.

Since this is a judgement free safe space*, I feel like I can really be honest in my admission of extreme ultimate douchiness. Actually, it's not that bad. I'm a "sweet" "person" for the most part. Sweet like a chocolate chip cookie from Subway that's fallen between the cracks of your car seat, lost to the elements, beginning to mold. I will profusely thank strangers for holding my place in the insanely long grocery store line because I forgot to grab another 12 pack of Diet Coke Plus, but I will know you for the better part of 10 years and forget your birthday. I have a sack full of gifts at the foot of my bed just waiting to be shipped to long lost friends. What am I waiting for? I have no idea. You will tell me I look nice and I will reply, "really?" or "are you suffering from hysterical blindness?" I will look at you like you showed up for a PETA meeting in a veal suit. I overlook all of the little things. I will get a piece of glass stuck in my foot, you will retrieve a band-aid and alcohol swab, take my dirty foot, swab and bandage while I continue to lecture you about Shakti and yonis or some useless shit without skipping a beat. I will ask you to dinner, but then forget to check my phone to see if you've responded, meanwhile making other plans because I think you've forgotten me. Basically, my awesomeness knows no bounds. But I will try to be better. Do better.

*This is, of course, categorically untrue.

Cringesday!

Ok, so I have no humiliating pictures to entertain you with (I mean, I do, of course, but I'm lazy). However, instead, I thought I would take a load off and reveal some cringeworthy details about myself and then invite you to join in. By this, I assume you will take it as either an invitation to make fun of me or leave me to question my self worth by going silent. Yay!

1. I enjoy Frito chili pies way too much. If you don't know what this is, you are missing out. Also, I'll tell you the recipe: styrofoam bowl + Fritos + chili + chopped white onions + (yellow) cheddar cheese + plastic fork = heaven. (Mullet optional.)

2. My passport is devoid of stamps. If you or someone you know would like to rectify this, please do contact me.

3. I effing love the movie Center Stage. I would date Peter Gallagher's eyebrows. I put on legwarmers while I watch it.

4. I own legwarmers.



5. I'm actually looking forward to judging at high school debate tournaments with Shain.

6. Shain.

7. [this is my brain not working]

8. DMBMeg is in LA, so blove will have to wait till tomorrow. That means you have one day to woo us. If you have not forgotten or totally lost interest.

9. I took ballet when I was a kid. Once, during parent observation day, I was so nervous when I was doing a split leap over the magic jar or whatever she put in the middle of the room to show us where to jump, I peed midleap. Yes.

10. I have at least 10 items in my closet with the tags still attached. I hate people like that (me).

Your turn!

ZHMMM/Cringesday/Blove Date #1

For all of the loyal readers of Bee-Spot prior to this Blove business, I haven't forgotten you (mom and Grace). This is like 2 in 1 shampoo. A good idea in theory, but not really effective. Also, there are three parts.

Zack Harrison Memorial Music Monday: Random Road Trip.

Obvs, I haven't had much time to load up on new music, but I did drive to Dallas and back this weekend, which afforded me much time to listen to what I have. Behold my ipod's top plays:

Sleeping Lessons - The Shins [via The Devil Has The Best Tuna]

Back In Your Head - Tegan and Sara [music is art]

Silver Lining - Rilo Kiley [the leather canary]

Little Boxes - Malvina Reynolds [MOKB]

Community - Mirah and the Spectratone International [song by toad]

Georgia - The 1900s [Planeta Pop]

Gotta Have You - The Weepies [The World Forgot]

Be Mine Everyone - Sam Champion [Stereogum]

Acceptable in the 80s - Calvin Harris [Hipster Runoff]

The Ride - Joan As Police Woman [The Late Greats]

Akron/Family - Gone Beyond [Aquarium Drunkard]

I have no idea if these songs are cool, played out, hated or loved by Pitchfork - I just simply like them.

Cringesday: Grace is going to eat delicious delicious sushi at Masa tomorrow night so I will embarrass her edition.

G's on the right. She's at her little bro's wedding scaring the bride with potential genetics.

Blove - Date #1:

Tonight, I was surprised to receive and then ignore a text message from a one Mr. Shain. Is said simply, dinner? Who am I to say no to that? He called and let me know he was on his way. Also, to let me know I should bring a camera to record our "date." When he picked me up, he actually came to the door and met my parents. He might have shaken hands with my dad, who, thank God, had pants on for once (he's a boxers past 5 kinda guy). Soon, we were on our way to The Cheesecake Factory all the way in The City! Talk about special. It was weird, though, especially when his boyfriend called and we had a threeway convo via speakerphone. Hmm. It got worse when, upon entering the restaurant, Shain asked if horizontal stripes were really the best look for me. Finally, after the waiter had recited the daily specials, one of which was salmon, Shain shamed him by asking him where said salmon was from. Date over! Actually, all was redeemed as we listened and sang along with Belle and Sebastian all the way home. Seriously, it doesn't take much to please me.

Appetizers: wine, fried macaroni and cheese, boobs.

Entree: Girly sandwich. I had a burger.

Dessert: Actually, Shain made me roll down the window and take this pic of a sign in my neighborhood. Then he said to post it. He might be too controlling to win.

Cringesday: Middle School Melee

Hey there. Two contributions today. One from the venerable Von Trapper Keeper, Dan. And one from me. Because that's really why you're here. It's ok to admit. Ok, so YOUR TURN! Send it in! Seriously, I'm savings literally hundreds (of pennies) on therapy Pabst with this shit.

Fatbusters, the Herberg Middle School 6th grade nutrition quiz team, traveled 3 hours from Pittsfield, MA to Quincy Market in Boston in 1985 to compete in the State Finals. Named after the popular film Ghostbusters, the Fatbusters were well educated and competitive but faulty buzzers prevented them from claiming the crown. Team captain, Dan Nolan, who would later blog under the moniker of Von Trapper Keeper, performed admirably. Pictures with cardboard cutouts of the Boston Celtics and bags of candy from Faneuil Hall eased the agony of defeat and left the crew quite wound up for the long drive home.

Below, you will find a poem written as part of my eighth grade anthology created for Mrs. Knehans' English class. Not only does the poem suck (and is something I would write today), but the lamination and clip art are laughable. It was 1996. Didn't we have email and AOL by then?




This is pretty much what I looked like by the end of that fateful year. Check out those bangs! Hot! And, apparently, I wear my sunglasses at night just like any good child of the 80s. Nice American Eagle shirt B!

Cringesday: Literary Edition.

Scanner is kaput, so I present you with a photo-free Cringesday. Today's contribution comes from my much loved and leafed through Aegis English anthology. Yes, Aurora 2000. If you are interested, and I suspect you are not, read about a brief history of Aegis here. So, our senior year, all of us had collected a portfolio of writing that we'd used to enter several contests (you're looking at a two time winner of a Rose State writing competition poetry medal - I know, right?), which were then compiled into our anthology to live in high school ignominy forever. At the time, this little book was quite something. Now it is a work of humor. Oh God. We were too much. Check out this poem I wrote for my brother. I feel it's appropriate as he is now supposedly attending college. I say supposedly because he has no books and does no homework. How do I know this? Because he still hasn't moved into his dorm room. Three cheers for National Merit Scholars. Turd.

Joshua (c. 1998/1999)

Barefeet pounding
against the mossgreen tundra,
muscles singing,
back arched like the neighbor's cat,
sunpowered
moving weightlessly
in the cathedral of the afternoon.
Not afraid of the truth (that will be like a blanket
that won't cover your feet), just
bumble bees, wasps, and the little girl next door.
And you're glowing, springsweet,
like a thousand white candles, your
splendid ignorance
seeping through the caked mud and grass stains,
illuminating flushed cheeks,
escaping (too
quickly)
through breath and perspiration,
and I want to be your catcher in the rye.


OMG. I want to die. First of all, I suspect "springsweet" is from a Dave Matthews' song, which is pretty much all I listened to back in those days. Second of all, I'd rather show a shitty picture of me than reveal the inner sanctum of my high school brain any day. This looks easier than it is. So why are you doing it then, Blythe? Cheaper than therapy. Cheaper than therapy.

So, come on. You know you want to add one to the pile. It feels good. Catharsis baby!

Cringesday!

Yup. It's that time again! This week, I'm starting things off with a reader submission. Here it is:





Who's this little dude (besides Mr. Adorable, of course)? Hint: he's a part-time commenter. First person to guess wins, um, nothing. Yay!


Reminder: send in your pics if you want to be included in the party. That was for you, JHC.

Speaking of cringesday, last night, I decided to take a bath. Which, when you're a single chick like me with no life, is kind of a big deal. I lit some candles, poured some Shiraz, and fired up the ol' iPod. Then I sang my little heart out because, hand to God, my tub is better than any studio out there. I sound like a rock star. Or so I thought. My bathtub performance repertoire is strictly Mariah Carey's first album. You love it too. Don't even pretend. Anyway, after sufficient prunage, I get out to discover that my whole house is completely silent, as in, my parents had been listening to my concert. I ran to my room, a la 7th grade. Totally sweet and awesome. This only caused me to drown my embarrassment in the rest of the bottle. Which caused me to be a little tipsy, alone, on a Tuesday night. Which caused some rather silly conversations and r*tarded text messages. Apologies all around. I love me! Mostly because I have to.

Oh! I almost forgot the best part! When I finally went to bed, I cried while watching the Sex and the City finale rerun on channel 16, whatever that is. Feel free to hate on me. I would.

Cringesday on Thursday

Ok. I promise I've got a good one featuring reader materials next week, but to hold you over, behold:


Notice Bee-Spot frequents Lacey and C-tina. This was good ol' fourth grade. L's mom choreographed a totally sweet talent show baton routine to You Can Call Me Al. You can call it awesome.

P.S. Holy Crap! Look at those outfits! I am physically in cringe mode right now.

Cringesday on a Monday: Birthday that never ends edition!

Hey everybody, come and see how good I look! -- Ron Burgundy

I've never really been on the receiving end of a digital gift before, but this year, I got four! I will share three with you because one was deeply personal and quite filthy. One is cringe-worthy, one is a direct Cringesday contribution, and one is, well, I need your help with the last thing.

* Click here for more. You'll have to download it (it's a power point). This is as blog savvy as I get and I had to have help.

* Click here only if you want to ROTLFLMAO like a LOTR NAACP AARP CBS. Siobhlogger's outdone herself. Cringesday GOLD! Here is a preview.


* This was sent to me by someone that I don't know all that well, yet he somehow managed to distill my entire personality into 30 seconds and some graphics. So, do I marry him or file a restraining order because he's clearly stalking me? Which is sexy, of course.

Cringesday!

UPDATE!

Take a look at Stew's contribution here.

And, who's this? Oh, it's Julie!

Julie says: So this picture was taken in 6th grade and my gym teacher who was also the yearbook in charge lady made me wear that shirt and hang on the monkey bars. Unfortunately that is my shirt. I think it had something to do with basketball. I never played basketball. I just stole it from my Aunt. My friends still tease me about it. It's really a good time. I can't wait to be embarrassed. Yea!

p.s. blogger and i.e. are not friends (i am work where they've never heard of firefox or something), hence this post now looks like it rode the short bus today.

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Hey folks. I told you it'd be back. Lest you forget, last week I posted what I thought was a horrifying picture of myself with a mullet. I realize now that this was a mistake because any picture of a five year old girl with a mullet is intrinsically cute. It's a law or something. So, friends (this term is used very loosely, of course), this week, I have decided to kill two birds while stoned. I will both embarrass myself and shed a little light on the weird relationship between Mr. Shain and I (which has been requested several times by many people, or once, or never - I don't really pay attention).

The year is 1996. The music is "Who Will Save Your Soul" by snaggle tooth Jewel and "Wonderwall" by Oasis. The movie is the re-release of Star Wars. The jeans are Guess. Awesomeness all around.

Mr. Shain and I find ourselves attending West Mid High in Norman, Oklahoma. We are in Mrs. Barse's yearbook class. I have no idea what compelled me to sign up for yearbook the previous spring, but apparently I did and there I was and Shain was the editor. I have no idea how that happened either - we've all (well, five of us) seen his typo riddled excuse of a blog. Anyway, I hate to speak ill of the dead (fine, these people aren't dead, but I haven't seen the majority of them for years), but they were mostly kind of re re (thanks Julie!). Shain and I, sensing that we were bound for the greatness we are currently living (oh, we're not?) bonded over, I don't know what, being a-holes, I guess. Bottom line, Shain has been giving me shit since 1996 and I can't seem to get enough of it.

This is Shain's "autograph" from the signature pages of the yearbook we created. Notice he takes up a whole page. Notice he writes in block letters. Notice his phone number. Call him!

Ah. The yearbook staff in all its glory. Oh, look at that girl in the striped shirt with the horrible bangs and terrible posture. Clearly, she will grow out of that ugly duckling stage and into a beautiful swan. No? She doesn't? That's unfortunate.

Now it's your turn. Send in a school picture, seventh grade journal entry, high school poem, etc. You'll feel better. I'm here for you. To laugh at you. I mean with you.

UPDATED! Cringesday!

UPDATE: Annie wins the prize for actual participation (the prize is, of course, nothing). This will catch on. It will. Just wait for next week.

It's more embarrassing for my sister (she's the one wiht the tragic hair on the bottom), but it was definitely my idea to pose like this. I was always convincing her to put on pointless "shows" that ended with her on the floor and me looking easy-breezy-beautiful on top of the world. That's definietly cringe-y.

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Due to the most recent event in the life of LiLo that actually makes Katie Holmes glad she's a drugged, Scientologist mother of an alien, I am discontinuing Goulet Wednesday News Round Up. I'm no longer challenged. Between LaLohan's antics, Britney's downward spiral into the mere footnotes of Shar Jackson's biography, Nicole's babybulemic, and Paris' post prison extension emergency, quite frankly, I'm disgusted. With Perez Hilton.

So, instead, because I like the idea of blog features because I don't like the idea of actually writing anything because I'm pretty horrible at it, I've come up with Cringesday. What is Cringesday you ask and how do you stand being so beautiful and deal with all of those marriage proposals? Well, Cringesday is where I post a horrifying story, picture, piece of writing, or other memento from my youth and expect you to do the same (fine - I just made that other part up). It's like free therapy but without the credentials, drugs and results (but hopefully with the shame, tears and copays - for me). Come on! You might like it. (For serious, I'm almost 100% sure that no one will take me up on this, but seriously, send me a pic/story/scan something mortifying and I'll throw it up here. It'll be fun fun fun! We're all friends. Except you, Shain. Lacey, I know for a fact you have something to share.)

Cringenesday #1: The Five Year Old Mullet.

Yup, that's me, circa 1986ish. Let me tell you about kindergarten. I failed skipping in P.E. Fucking failed it like LiLo's field sobriety test. The best part about having a mullet when you're 5 or 6 or whatever, is that it can't get worse, right? Oh, yes it can and it's called a perm + mall bangs. Stay tuned.

Your turn! So, who's with me? This is my Jerry Maguire moment except even Renee Zellweger's squinty eyes aren't even following me out of the building.