Things I learned this weekend:

1) Alabracadabra is a lovely hostess and wonderful cook. She made a beautiful Sunday pot roast for Chris, Matt and I. Thanks!

Mmm. Beef. And vegetables, I suppose. I know I should like vegetables. And I guess I do, when they're covered in meat juice. Mmm.

Matt "cocaine is the most fun you'll have this year" and Alabra, gracious hostess.

Chris "my double chin drops like testicles after dessert."

Not pictured: me stuffing my face with meat, root veggies and bread.

2) Siobhlogger is one crafty bitch! While I wallowed about on her couch nursing yet another vicious hangover while pretending to knit wrist warmers Saturday afternoon, she went to town making these placemats. Good job!

3) You really do only get ass when you haven't shaved your legs since sometime before Labor Day.

4) Don't take pictures when you're drunk. Check out these little gems I found on my camera from Thursday night.

craptastic

+



= lost

where are you lovely terra cotta kenneth cole coat?

Someone loves me (finally)!

I celebrated official Halloween by heading out to a reading/interview sponsored by my lovely local radio station with the Pioneer Valley's own Augusten Borroughs. Yes, I am one of those who voraciously blew through all of his books (well, except for Possible Side Effects because it's still in hardback and I am a cheap bastard) and fell in love with the idea that someone's family is more dysfunctional than my own and has drunk more than me, times 10. Siobhlogger and I settled into our seats and listened as Augusten told us of the movie making process, meeting Annette Benning and his love of Blenheim Ginger Ale, which he provided to the audience. Next, it was on to the Q & A section, where Siobhlogger's question was asked to the delight of the author and received the most laughs from the audience. I was jealous, I won't lie, but that's why she's getting the Ph.D. and I'm stuck in a windowless office. So, it's time for the signing of books portion of the evening and I'm literally too nervous to deal with it. It reminds me of when I met Kurt Vonnegut on the street and completely flubbed a hello or when I had Richard Wilbur sign a volume of poetry for my dad and almost passed out. In spite of my obsession with nerdy celebrities, I can't seem to handle meeting them (which throws a wrench into my plan of marrying Ira Glass). I desperately want S to pretend she's me (I'm whining/pleading, in fact), but she refuses (um, why would anyone not want to be me? what?). Finally, it's my turn and he asks me how I am, I say fine (do I ask him how he is? no...), he asks me my name, I say Blythe, he says B-L-Y-T-H-E? I say yes! Well done and on the first try! And he says, well, it's Gwenyth's mother's name. And I say, and Apple's middle name! By say I mean excitedly scream and perhaps spit a little bit into his face. So there's that. Oh, also, he writes "with love" in my book. Did he write "with love" to the woman ahead of me. NO. That's right. Someone loves me. But not like that.

I was almost ready to pee my pants already, so getting any closer than this or asking for a photo op was not an option.

Also, here are pictures of the cat for those of you who do not believe I could cohabitate with a cat. Her name is Party Cat. She belongs to Roommate and likes to sleep on me (much like she is on top of me in these photos) when I try to read books in bed. She also likes to bite my arms.

Oh Holy Fuck

So, last night I was headed into town to get something called a Caffe Americano at Starbucks. (Don't ask me what size, I don't know. In fact, that whole sizing this is the gayest crap this side of something very gay. Yes, I said gay. Sometimes (very rarely) it's the only thing I can think of to accurately describe something, well, gay. It's ok. I went to a women's college...)

(Gay, Gayer, Gayest)

Two things: 1) I don't really drink coffee, but have been feeling pressured and un-adultlike lately for my dislike of the stuff, so someone suggested I try this Americano business and 2) I have a Starbucks giftcard. While I'm walking home I'm serenaded by my friendly neighborhood street performer playing the "Christmas Song" on his sax. What? Really? It's just now Halloween. I've accepted Target pushing Christmas in August, but street musicians? Furthermore, why are there street performers in Northampton, MA? 30,000 people live in this town. How much can this guy possibly be making (answer: probably more than me)? And where's the steel drum player? I miss him.

Kirsten Dunst is the new me.

So, my lady friends and I went to see Marie Antoinette yesterday. I was ready to hate on the movie as many others have, but I must admit, I was quite delighted in spite of my hatred of Kirsten Dunst, which is seeded in the fact that sometimes, and don't laugh (I can hear you laughing), I feel like I look like her (face only). We both have squinty eyes and giant cheek areas. She, however, has hordes of handlers to make her presentable while I only have drugstore cosmetics, dark lighting and booze (not for me, for the onlooker, well, some for me).



In any case, the the Dauphine's life got me to thinking. Would an arranged marriage be so bad? Ok, maybe not marriage, but how about an arranged boyfriend? It takes all of the guess work out of whether or not he likes me, doesn't matter if I like him, we don't have to do the awkward getting to know you stuff, I don't have to show off my boobs in midwinter via skanky outfits at the bar or be paranoid about the state of my vajungle etc. We can skip that whole thing and get right into me gaining 15 pounds, him playing video games while I sit on the opposite end of the couch disgusted by the sight of his asscrack, and petty fights about who's taking out the trash. But at least I won't be alone on a Saturday night (not that I ever am) and relationships always start sucking at some point anyway, so why all of that investment?

Ok, maybe not. It clearly ended poorly for MA. I'll stick with the awkward, painful torture that is traditional dating. Plus, who am I kidding? I love showing off my boobs any time of year.

Halloween schmalloween.

so, went to an early halloween party last night. my plan was to slut it up a la pregnant britney, but it was decided it was too cold for that amount of cleavage. instead, i donned a soccer uniform circa 7th grade. why, you ask? well, siobhlogger and big t posed as my midwestern parents. weird, yes, but funny too. i would include my picture, but i look like shit, so there's that.

the best costume of the night, hands down: the decider.

close behind is this box of franzia. he came complete with glasses and your choice of zinfandel or a lovely blush. i stuck to the miller lite.

i wish i knew how to quit you and to not be a hobo.

alabracadabra as the baroness.

New Apartment! Well, somewhat. It was new as of about 10/3.

so, here are pics of the new digs. yeah, we're still lacking important things like a kitchen table, coffee table, living room seating and a TV you don't have to be three feet in front of to make out something shitty on basic cable, but we're getting there.

the kitchen's pretty sweet as far as noho kitchens go. nice glass front cupboards, deep double sink and a walk-in pantry larger than most dorm rooms at smith.

only a lonely futon right now, but we'll get around to filling up the space. fortunately, i have no friends, so it's more than enough for the cat and me.

ah yes, where all the non-magic happens.

it's a nice little bathroom, really.

What is the most important question ever?

Were I to appear on Jeopardy!, what would I wear? I WILL be on Jeopardy! someday, and this decision will be more than hypothetical. Perhaps I should go shopping this weekend in preparation.

Goulet Wednesday News Roundup

Sadly, you can no longer buy cocaine at 7 Eleven. It's back to the bathroom at the bar for you.

Waiting for my invitation!!

I totally almost wore this to work today.

Little J-Fed!

Next he's going to be playing bongos naked in Matthew's backyard.

Not news, but GOLDMINE!

Dating blows.

Ok, so I'm semi-newly single (four months and counting, I think, one of which I was completely off my rocker and/or in Oklahoma, so that doesn't count) and I've had adventures in drunken hook-ups, one night stands, internet dating, semi-real dating (dating is such a stupid, fucked up word), alone time, fling in another city, development of moderate crush, etc, but nothing really to write home about yet - well, that I remember. And you know, I think I'm a pretty good date. My mom says I'm pretty and my friends tell me I'm funny when they're drunk, plus I've got a fairly decent sized rack (let's be honest, more than fairly). I'm not an idiot (according to the massive student loans I've accrued from what they tell me is a good school), socially awkward only 65% of the time, can carry on a conversation about Paris Hilton or immigration reform (not to mention the candle manufacturing industry) and am pretty easy. So, I don't get it. I'm freaking awesome. Where's everyone else? If you possess the following or know someone who does, please do not hesitate to contact me:

1. You most likely have glasses and are slightly nerdy.
2. You should have an appreciation for family guy, aqua teen, futurama, simpsons, south park, reno 911, sienfeld, curb your enthusiasm, arrested development, the sopranos, lost, anchorman, super troopers and wet hot american summer.
3. You read (good) books and then we talk about them (seems simple enough, but surprisingly not so).
4. You are funny. At least as funny as I am, which is pretty goddamn funny. Or at least get what I think is funny. Because if you don't, you're clearly not funny anyway and it's just not going to work.
5. You accept my insatiable need to know all things celebrity and pop culture and won't throw away my copies of US Weekly or In Touch (points if you know what those are) to make room for Utne or the New Yorker.
6. You play (real - beirut is for pussies) beer pong or are willing to learn (and get your ass kicked by me).
7. You understand the need for a 30 rack of Bud Light on a Saturday night. Or Wednesday (maybe Tuesday) for that matter.
8. You don't shun naps, in fact, you are an advocate of midday napping.
9. You have the cliched dream of doing the Sunday Times crossword puzzle in bed (we don't have to do it, though, just talk about it). Instead, we can listen to This American Life on Sunday nights.
10. You will watch OU football with me and discuss the travesty that is Adrian Peterson's injury.
11. I am stereotypically bad at math. You are ok with that (hopefully because you're good at it).
12. You compliment my shoes.
13. You refuse to go the mall. After I've made you go to the mall, you put up a huge fight when I ask you to hold my bags while I look at this one pair of shoes for just a minute.
14. You want to hold hands for no longer than 30 seconds at a time.
15. You won't make fun of me for literally counting down the days till the next Harry Potter movie.
16. You will try anything once.

Seriously, is that so much to ask?

I love you Steve Perry

but, I don't think I can ever listen to "Don't Stop Believin'" again. Damnit. In other news, I feel completely justified in my utter dislike of young Republicans and my hatred for all things fraternity.

Goulet Wednesday.

To buy or not to buy.

So, I've been wanting to jump on the skinny jean bandwagon (despite my recent protests - and I still do not, under any circumstances, support leggings + mini skirt), but am prevented by the fact that I'm 5'1" and not Kate Moss skinny. Or Sienna Miller skinny. Or MK Olsen skinny. Or Oprah skinny... yet, I still want in on this trend. I'm 52.5% sure I'm going to cave. The pair I've picked out:

Ah, the single life.

*click to enlarge

note to self

No one and I mean NO ONE wants to hear you sing except you and your mom. So stop it. It's not cute and it's not replacement for therapy. Self, I'm putting you on notice. Yes, there's karaoke available every night in our fair city, but you are not allowed to go.

At least I...

Alabracadabra and I have found a new game. In order to stave off the shame from our Hugo's fueled antics, we have devised a new coping device. Last night I might have had one too many, left Alabracadabra to the wolves, misfired an unfortunate text message, woke up my roommate at 3somethingam, but at least I...

1. didn't assault a police officer
2. don't have syphilis
3. didn't spend Sunday night watching local cable access shows (crazy people dancing! totally awesome!) and Desperate Housewives. Oh wait, I did.


THANK YOU PABST!

If I were in charge of CNN, these would be today's top stories.

Finally, someone hates all that stupid pirate shit as much as me.


Aren't these guys Mormons or something?


Confirmed: James Blunt sucks as much as I thought he did.


I'm embarrassed to say that I would totally get my sexy on to this.

sometimes

i feel like i am constantly practicing for the world's most boring person competition.

she works hard for the money

this is why other companies refuse to let employees loose online...


bee-spot@[redacted].com> wrote:

eek! i was looking at the facebook group blythes' around the world and i saw a blythe [redacted]! i almost puked a little. just needed to share.

On 10/11/06, Laceybug <[redacted]@yahoo.com> wrote:

did the puke come up into your mouth and then you had to swallow it?


something funny - I had to message [redacted]'s ex - [redacted] because I swear I saw her on Oprah - I think she was a bridesmaid at the wedding Oprah crashed in Tulsa this June - so far no response.

bee-spot to Laceybug 3:38 pm (39 minutes ago)
yeah, it was pretty bad. i would never have taken that abomination as a last name anyway. i have enough trouble with my first.

oprah, huh? we should take a trip to chicago and get in the audience. that's so us. we could do our own bee-spot and laceybug roadtrip. yes... then we can youtube it and become famous like we're meant to be!


Laceybug to me 4:17 pm (6 minutes ago)
Blizer -

Sounds like a good idea. Because we are meant to be famous. I just haven't figured out how - we should plan the route. I saw on facebook that [redacted] has tickets to Oprah. Maybe we should mug her and steal the tickets.

NOHO? YESHO!

I've been lucky enough for this winner to spot me out of the hundreds of slampigs on MySpace. It's a done deal.

From:	Marc Genovese http://www.myspace.com/marcgenovese
Date:	Oct 11 2006 11:39 AM Flag spam/abuse [ ? ]
Subject:	No Subject
Body:	YOu are hot...your not a lesbian are you?... NOHO?

DISCLAIMER

i'm a little bit addicted to diet coke. i eat fast food, but pretend i don't. i falsely claim to like vegetables. sometimes i buy new underwear as opposed to doing laundry. i have way too many clothes for one person and many of said clothes are tops meant to showcase my cleavage. fine. i'm an adult, they're mine and it's ok. i go out (a lot) and stay up (way too) late. i'm a text messaging fiend and don't want to return your voicemail (i also screen your calls). i will put off buying groceries to get a pedicure or buy a pair of shoes. i should have more money saved. in addition to diet coke, i'm also addicted to a little slice of heaven called forever 21. i just can't help it. i will complain about being unshowered, but actually revel in my dirtiness. i love my dog more than i love some people i say i love. sometimes i smoke, but i will never buy my own. i'm delighted with chee-tos. i would watch too much tv if i had one (i also like veronica mars). i change with my blinds open. i dance to jt's sexyback like a first year at a quad party at an astounding volume.

so, sometimes i do things that are not so smart. fine. ok. but i will buy you a drink if you need it and make you laugh if i can.

this is written in a moment of guilt in a feeble attempt at redemption after reading about the weekend's antics.

the (long) weekend in numbers

4 hours spent in totally frustrating Friday night NYC traffic
1 reunion with old college friend
2 glasses of wine to pregame
3 beers the bartender mysteriously didn't charge to myself or college friend (i must admit, college friend is pretty cute. it's good to have her around) at a bar where I once became exremely intoxicated while underage with my dad's former student (and student teacher) and my church choir director's daughter.
$20 cab ride WAY downtown
4 Northamptonites meeting in the big city (treetrunk + the BF and friend)
1 shot bought by bartender for college friend and I. very delicious.
0 people discouraging college friend and I from stupidly embarking on Columbus Day Drinkfest 2006.
1 crashed private birthday party
3rd and Avenue B - somewhere near where I woke up. maybe.
1 earring lost (it was a good one too, dammit)
1 number given
2 train rides, 1 cab, 2 parades and over 1 hour to find my way back to
125th and Broadway
$8 mango mimosa that failed to make a dent in the most excrutiating hangover EVER
28-10 horrible, horrible loss suffered by OU
4 super obnoxious Texas fans that I wanted to punch in the face
1 reunion with old high school friend
1 super long trip back way downtown on the 1 to the most crowded bar i've wedged myself into
12.30am - received booty call text message
4 blocks walked through Harlem at 3am in high heels
$2.00 for the most delicious chocolate croissant
2.5 hours to get home
5pm drinks back in town
1 bottle of wine shared during an Indian feast
12 times Alabracadabra and I listened to sexyback
1 truly horrible idea of Sunday night karaoke
2 spectacular performances
2 giant powerades, 4 excedrin, 1 movie, 4 hours on Alabracadabra's couch and 1 holiday to recover from the truly horrible idea of Sunday night karaoke
1 painful realization that Saturday's hangover was nothing compared to hangover incurred from truly horrible idea of Sunday night karaoke
2 bad friends tempting me with
$1.50 pabst... (you know, to cure the hangover)
1 impromptu 2am dinner party on Eastern Ave
4 hours of sleep

pam's my hero

Amen

stumbled across this on corporate-casual.com
so true, so true.

Friday, October 6, 2006

Hate This Fridays!

Frat boys! Why?

It’s kind of obvious and easy to hate on frat boys. They’re the living embodiment of the innate human tendency towards homo-erotic violence and alcohol-fueled rape. And they wear button down shirts the way, say, a whore wears ripped pantyhose. What else is a whore going to wear?! They smell like the inside of a men’s magazine and some of them have their ears pierced because they’ve never seen a mirror.

And it’s easy to hate aging frat boys. Lawyers and hedge-fund managers, sitting at that reserved table ordering bottles of Gray Goose and remembering what it was like to spank each other with wooden paddles, back in the good old days, right before a long, exhausting night of drinking and raping people. Now they listen to Daniel Powter and have heard good things about some band called Radiohead. They would probably beat the shit out of a homeless person for a dollar and then burn the dollar if it meant they could return to that one magical night where they accidentally blew their best friend.

But my reason for hating on them today is because despite their general amorality, their sartorial douchebaggery, and just the fact that seriously fuck them, it’s hard not to be just a little bit jealous of them. They seem to live a blissfully unexamined life, totally unaware of just how shamefully retarded they are, how completely uninteresting in every single way. And who hasn’t sort of wished that life could be easier, or at least enjoyed? That one could drink just because one wanted to throw up, and not because one wanted to drown out the incessant self-doubt? Who hasn’t wished they could wear sweatpants with the word “Juicy” on the butt without wondering if that was tearing down years of work towards sexual equilibrium across the social sphere? Who hasn’t wished they could just move to a new town and buy a whole bunch of new friends and not feel that that went against the very foundation of what friendship actually is?

Did I already say “douchebags”?

"Pour me a double. I'm drinking for two."

Finally, a Barbie this Oklahoma girl can relate to.

I knew I wasn't fat. I've just been wearing too many t-shirts. At once.

Disturbing, depressing news

ok. the lady hanson got married (and apparently multiplied at an alarming rate), then the little hanson got married, but the old, ugly hanson? i, however, am sleeping alone tonight. mmmfuckbopyou.

Oldest Hanson brother marries in Oklahoma

Sun Oct 1, 3:37 PM ET

Bad news, ladies. The third and final brother in pop group Hanson has got married, People magazine reported on Sunday.

Isaac Hanson, 25, the oldest member of the group famed for the 1997 hit "MMMBop," wed his 22-year-old girlfriend, Nicole Dufresne, in his Tulsa, Okla., hometown on Saturday, the magazine said on its Web site.

The nuptials came just weeks after middle brother Taylor Hanson, 23, and his wife of four years had their third child. The youngest of the group, Zachary, 20, tied the knot in June.

With their clean-cut looks and catchy pop tunes, Hanson quickly became the toast of screaming teenage girls everywhere, inadvertently paving the way for boy bands like 'N Sync and Backstreet Boys. But Hanson, who wrote and played their own material, saw their popularity wane as they confounded their impressionable fans by experimenting with different musical styles.

Now recording as independent artists, they are preparing to release their fourth album, as well as a documentary called "Strong Enough to Break," which will have its world premiere at the Hollywood Film Festival in Los Angeles later this month.

K-I-D-S! Kids Incorporated!

ohmygod i forgot just how much i loved kids incorporated. although, now listening back, it's kind of weird to have a 12 year old singing "if you don't know me by now." what? you're 12. i was so going to be on this show. i so would've been better than jennifer "love" hewitt.

word.

Sold!

new york craigslist

New Favorite

The Big E!

What better way to spend a Friday night, right?

My pitiful Skiball score. I thought the white trash in me would make me better at this, but I guess not.

Mmm. Siobhan and Alabracadabra (and myself shortly after taking this photo) gorging on fried cheese curds complete with ranch dressing, french fries, corn dogs, fried oreos, beignets and of course, funnel cakes. Ohmygoditwassogood.

Me desperately trying not to throw up fried cheese curds complete with ranch dressing, french fries, corn dogs, fried oreos, beignets and of course, funnel cakes

The effect of said fried cheese curds complete with ranch dressing, french fries, corn dogs, fried oreos, beignets and of course, funnel cakes on my ass.

The Namesake

Western Mass Taco Nite 2006

oh yes. a little taste of old el paso right here in the valley. it was bountiful, it was delightful, there was very little knitting done. see Siobhlog for information regarding the original taco nite.

tacos. glorious tacos.

mmm. siobhan has that look on her face that only taco nite can produce.
tacos and wine? i don't know about that, margaret.

el fin.