Dudes! Check it!

I wish I could take credit for finding this, but alas, I cannot. I can, however, pimp it and hope that you think it's funny too, like pee in your pants a little bit funny. If not, we probably shouldn't be friends, but probably for very different reasons. In any case, enjoy...

http://www.candyboots.com/wwcards.html

A Few Things:

1. A sink, unlike a vagina, is not self cleaning. Just because the nature of this apparatus is to contain soap and water and facilitate the cleaning of things, it does not mean that such actions will result in acceptable vessel cleanliness. You actually have to dump in some Comet (I like Bon Ami, but it's not sold in Norman grocery stores) and scrub the sink. I know, counter intuitive. But try it.

2. I sliced my thumb open yesterday with the new chef's knife I bought upon recommendation from Cooks Illustrated - it's the Victorinox 8" Chef's Knife with Fibrinox handle. The knife is freaking awesome at only $25. The slit in my thumb is not. My boyfriend has a JD, which, during medical situations, is apparently akin to an MD. Who knew?

3. I now own Diane Von Furstenburg luggage courtesy of Mom approved retail therapy. Now, for somewhere to go...

4. MJ was most likely a child predator. How come we are forgetting this?

5. Should I bother going to Dfest? My beloved Cake will be there.

6. It's Lacey's* birthday! She's younger than me, but much more accomplished. I should've called her about my injury instead of my lawyer.

7. Stoned wallabies!

8. In spite of simultaneous over and underwatering, our garden has produced several green tomatoes and a few baby peppers! Woo! Soon, I will be forced into consuming fresh vegetables out of guilt. Boo.

9. Lacey's birthday reminds me that mine will arrive shortly. I remember freaking out when I turned 26. I'll bet my 26 year old self is feeling stupid because now I'm turning 30 - 2, which is a much bigger deal because I am unmarried, unchilded and unPhD'd.

10. I need more workout/running songs. Seriously, all I can bust it to is Beyonce. There has to be an alternative. If I hear "Single Ladies" one more time... I will break into a weird robut dance.

11. Speaking of robuts, whatever happened to David Cross?

12. I'm breaking up with Mark Kurlansky. After struggling, literally, for years to finish Salt, I attempted to spice it up a bit by bringing The Food Of A Younger Land into the bedroom. Total backfire. Either I'm not as cerebral/hipster as I thought or he's overhyped. I prefer to go with the latter, but suspect the former is true.

13. I am dreading the 4th of July, as it is the New Years of the summer. I'm not a "lake person" and that appears to be the only option in these parts. Thoughts? Comments? Concerns?

*If you have not yet read her blog, you should. She is far more entertaining than I in that she is actually capable of entertainment.

When, I ask you, when?

As I sit at my desk, eating cold lo mein out of a mug staring down another 14 hour work day, I am wondering, when will someone notice the awesomeness that is this blog and correctly infer that there could only be more awesomeness in the person behind it and make me famous? When?

BREAKING NEWS!

1. something pretty fantastic, should the stars align properly, is going to happen to me in one to one and a half months.

2. jon & kate 8 = 0

3. the white house has a flickr page. it's pretty awesome.

Too late?

I was watching daytime TV yesterday at home (e.g. not at work) because I had a migraine that was literally trying to liquefy my brain and came across a commercial for Juicy Juice Brain Development juice stuff for babies. Now, aside from sounding gross (mom! can I have a some brain development?), I'm wondering - is it too late? I could really use some brain development right about now. Could I have some after coming home from the bar and just call it even? I think this warrants investigation.

um. seriously?

Yesterday, after a mindnumbing 10.5 hours of work*, I commenced the long commute home, planning to veer my car toward the ol' homestead to walk my** dog with my mom to stretch out my legs after desk jockying for so long, but instead, ended up at happy hour with the BF. As I was sitting outside, drinking an IPA, feet up in the chair across from me, staring into the setting sun, I looked down at my chest, because, well, why not, it's awesome, and noticed something out of place.

At some point earlier in the day, I had been chewing gum. I don't know when I ceased chewing this gum. But, I guess I did, because there it was, stuck between the top of my dress and my cardigan. I thought, for a moment, maybe it's not mine! Maybe someone else threw their gum at my lady lumps. But no, it was green gum. I only chew green gum.

How did this happen? When did this happen? Was I talking to someone, and suddenly, the act of moving my chaw to masticate became too much of an effort and I simply let the gum drop out of my mought while I thought, huh.




*My job really isn't that bad. Sometimes days get long.
**This is my dog from high school who resides with my parents at their behest. I would prefer her to live with me. Claire, the dog, would prefer to eat bacon all day long.

Zack Harrison Memorial Music Monday: Modern Girl's Guide To Breaking Up Edition

I'm not breaking up with anyone, for now. Except maybe Fiber One bars. However, I do enjoy a good break up song. Yes, there are lots of oldies but goodies, I like these newer ones, though. This is, by no means, a complete list:



Single Again - Fiery Furnaces



Breaking Up - Rilo Kiley



Wake Up Alone - Amy Winehouse



Let's Not Belong Together - Pete Yorn



Irreplaceable - Beyonce



Your Ex-Lover Is Dead - Stars



I Think I Need A New Heart - The Magnetic Fields



Come Pick Me Up - Ryan Adams



No Children - The Mountain Goats



Song For The Dumped - Ben Folds Five



Broken Heart - Spiritualized



I Am Trying To Break Your Heart - Wilco



Nothing Better - Postal Service



Smile - Lily Allen



Woke Up New - The Mountain Goats



I'm Waking Up To You - Belle & Sebastian


Foundations - Kate Nash



Grounds For Divorce - Elbow



The Ice Is Getting Thinner - Death Cab For Cutie

No Whine Oh-Nine

You may not remember this. Turns out I'm not getting married to anyone, including myself.



While I kicked it up a notch at the gym, I didn't reach my goal, yet somehow managed to purchase a Le Creuset dutch over sometime in March. Don't ask. I extended my deadline through August and started a bootcamp class at my gym last week. Two days a week, one hour, 5.45 am. AWESOME! Right, in addition to doing something at the gym or outside every day but Sunday. I've actually been able to do it, and have been rewarded by gaining a pound. And being rendered a paraplegic.

Yesterday morning, we did stripper squats. Like 10,000. Naturally, I was quite good at them. What I'm not quite good at now is sitting up in bed, walking, leaning over, bending, driving, breathing, getting out of a chair, living. FUCK! That shit hurts! DOMS is kicking my ass. How am I supposed to run tonight so that I don't suck ass even worse tomorrow morning? F U vicious cycle! I will prevail. It's only six weeks. I can do anything for six weeks, especially if it involves not getting a hair cut, washing my car, or paying bills.

Also, how many ibuprofen is too much? Are too much. I think i just got my answer.




Bath time!

Zack Harrison Memorial Music Monday: The Hangover Edition

Have you ever been super pissed at your boyfriend on a Friday night, slammed your bedroom door all pouty like a five year old, popped in Religulous, opened a bottle of shiraz, called your friend sobbing, made midnight pasta, got on Facebook and made nonsensical comments, spilled said pasta all over your 600 threadcount sheets (that your boyfriend doesn't appreciate anyway) and woke up to a text message from your mother asking what's going on? No? Just me? Ok.

Seriously, dudes. It was bad. I woke up in a panic and surveyed the Facebook damage. Don't they have one of those applications that make you do simple math to log on? Yes, I would probably never log on. Good one. On the up side, I totally forgot why I was pissed at said boyfriend.

In a related story, I saw The Hangover Saturday night. I would highly recommend it. Anyone who knows me (all three of you) know that I've been on Team Galifianakis for some time now. Like years and years and years. So now he's all famous and shit. Good for him. Before he goes off the same deep end as Will Ferrell, check out Between Two Ferns. There are lots more at funnyordie.com.

Between Two Ferns with Zach Galifianakis from Between Two Ferns

And now for the music portion. This may come as a shock, but I think the Bee Gees are kickass. Just not when they perform their own work. Behold, awesome Bee Gees covers:

(Love You) Inside and Out - Feist



Emotion - Destiny's Child

How Can You Mend A Broken Heart - Al Green



We Trying To Stay Alive - Wyclef

I Can't See Nobody - Nine Simone

iWant

check it: (click so you can see better unless you have fighter pilot vision, like me.)

too bad it's so expensive and i'm so poor, otherwise, match made in oklahoma!

Zack Harrison Memorial Music Monday: Shitty Music Edition

Instead of perpetrating my trademark awesome taste in music, I think, instead, we should take a look the really shitty stuff out there and be thankful iPods have made the radio obsolete.

For your listening pleasure:


Lullaby - Shawn Millins

Follow Me - Uncle Kracker

Higher - Creed

We Built This City - Starship

Your Body Is A Wonderland - John Mayer

Breakfast At Tiffany's - Deep Blue Something


I mean, there are way more, of course. But I think this is a solid start. So, don't listen to these. Do listen to everything else I've told you.

Sunday.

Just putzing around, waiting for something good to happen.

Rocking the Tulsa metro.

Last night, I saw my first Ben Folds show. However, this was not the first time I've seen Mr. Folds in person. One summer, I was walking down some street in Newport, RI after having stuffed my face with an $18, albeit delicious, lobster roll* and literally bumped into him. I was too star struck to make the best of it. I'm still made fun of it to this day. Along with many other, unrelated things.

Right, so, in ninth grade, I used to stay up late listening to 95X making recordings from the radio of cool songs that I thought everyone else should know (not a lot has changed). There were three that they only played past midnight for a long time. I have no idea why. One was "Santeria". One was 'This Lonely Place' (Goldfinger) and the other was "The Battle Of Who Could Care Less". Dang, I loved that song. Wore that tape out! I bought Whatever and Ever Amen and can sing the whole thing start to finish including all of the instrumental parts. I'm that awesome. I have most of his other stuff too, but get kind of lost toward the recent years (I'd forgotten so many songs last night, but there they are on iTunes ready for new rotation). He's this odd hybrid of Burt Bacharach and Elton John except he doesn't suck.

I went with Lacey. It's her fifth show. I think. But, there was a guy, Ben said, who'd made it to 60 shows, so he asked him what song he'd like to hear. I said/shouted to Lacey, "Steven's Last Night In Town"! And guess what? That's what the dude said too! Ben sat at the piano and promised he'd try, but would probably fuck it up. And he did. But it was good. The last bit of the song features a frenzied drum bit, which Ben played, leaping up to the drum kit and really going to town.

I know there are a lot of naysayers (please don't judge him by the terrible ubiquitousness of "Brick"), but it was a pretty rad show. There's something great about standing with your fellow dorks screaming lyrics in harmony. And there's something about talented musicians. Wathing live music really restores my faith in true creativity and superhuman talent. However mainstream he is now, I think part of my interest in current, non top 40 music (prior to this I listened to parent mandated classical, Beatles and KOMA, the local oldies station) is due to him and late night airings of "The Battle Of Who Could Care Less".

Take a listen (these are all I could find):

Kate

Army

You Don't Know Me


Highly recommended:

Don't Change Your Plans For Me
Steven's Last Night In Town
Landed
Underground
Annie Waits
Zak and Sara
Narcolepsy
Song For The Dumped
Still Fighting It
Magic


*I miss you, seafood. I really, really do.

When will I ever learn?

Probably never.



I have little to negative willpower. Unless you count forcing myself to sit through a Jon & Kate Plus 8 marathon, followed by The Real Housewives of New Bubbies, topped off by 12 new epidoes of TrueLife on MTV. In that case, I am the fucking willpower champion. But usually, I don't know my limits. It's always, one more, I'll just have one more. And then another after that. And then, well. Needless to say it's not pretty. Basically, I need help. If I have it anywhere around me, I'll mindlessly partake. Work. Home. Driving. Anything. And the consequences are always disastrous. What did Einstein say? Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result? Well, kids, surprise! I'm nuts.



Listen to your Auntie Blythe. JUST SAY NO!

No matter how good you think these colon bombs are, please, limit yourself. Turns out your body cannot actually handle 150 grams of fiber in one sitting. If you are going to hit it, though, oats and chocolate is by far the best flavor. I just hope you have a private bathroom at work or a sphincter of steel.

Too much?

Fun Fact of the Day

Did you know that Bobcat Goldthwait turns 47 today? I could've sworn he was at least fifty something by now. In any case, happy birthday Bob! Cat.

Zach Harrison Memorial Music Monday: Summer Jam Edition

Is Passion Pit's "The Reeling" the Summer Jam of 09?

Sundays are for Cracker Barrel

When you venture out on a weekend morning, I suggest you steer (literally) clear of any Cracker Barrels* in your area. They are dangerous places of death and destruction and I'm not just talking about cholesterol and race relations. The speed limit might say 40, but sure as shit every oldie wheeling their obsolete Buick into the parking lot will be racing along at 5, maybe 7. BEWARE.

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*I will never ever, even under duress, admit to immensely enjoying the hashbrown casserole. NEVER!

Note To Self:

When erasing all evidence of your now nearly forgotten ex-boyfriend from your life, do not forget to also minimize Facebook newsfeeds from his family. Nothing like a fresh photo of your dog and his new family.

In which I am attracted to my own armpits.

As you may or may not absolutely did not read, I have fallen prey to a little marketing scam called clinical deodorant. Basically, the shit's pit crack. It's getting all warm in the OKC and that means sleeveless shirts, outdoor activities, and night sweats. I guess the last one isn't really related to the weather as much as my effed up subconscious* so that means added layers of pit protection has become necessary. Also, sometimes I go to the gym. I ran out of the stuff this weekend and thought, well, I'll save myself $7 (beer!) and roll on the old regular standby. WRONG! Thanks Secret, for literally making me chemically dependent upon your super overpriced product. I ponied up the dough for a new stick tonight after work, but they were out of my normal scent! I picked up the sport version, with fresh marathon scent. Fresh marathon makes me think of vomit, bleeding nipples, and gatorade shit, but ok. I'll try it. I rolled it on as soon as I got home because I'm an addict and BAM! I smelled like a dude. And I like that smell. I keep liking that smell. I lifted my arm to stir the mushrooms for dinner tonight and bang! Who's that? Oh, it's me. Hey me...

*For real, the other night, I had a dream about developing an Astral Weeks era Van Morrison lyric generator. There was one column of colors, one of fruits and one of bodies of water. Tell me you don't think "springs of viridian plums" couldn't fit.

Semi-Nude Pictures of My Friends Playing Twister

If you're from Oklahoma, and I am, there's only one legitimate kind of twister*. And it involves these people (who are neither my friends, nor semi-nude), not the classic game that I wish I'd invented because, basically, it's a plastic sheet with brightly colored dots all over it and now someone's super effing rich. Really? I couldn't think of that?

*I pray to Bob Stoops that no such photos exist.

Zack Harrison Memorial Music Monday: Back in the Saddle Again Edition

I've said it before and I'll say it again. Pandora rocks my socks off. And other things too. I'm not great at managing Pandora, it kind of reminds me of those thingies, Tamagotchie? Remember? Anyway, my Tamagotchie died and my Pandora doesn't fare much better. I sometimes tell it songs I don't like, and more rarely tell it to remember songs I do. Right, so, I hit next a lot. But, these are the Blythe approved Pandora provided songs as of late:

Falling Into Space - Don Dilego (surely, this was on Scrubs)

November - Azure Ray (only listen to this if you are a 13 year old girl cueing up music to listen to while you scribble away in your diary)

Once Around The Block - Badly Drawn Boy (I forget about this guy 99% of the time)

In Transit - Albert Hammond Jr. (Infectious. Jerk.)

Kiss The Sky - Shawn Lee's Ping Pong Orchestra (What? Weird.)

How The Story Goes - The Redwalls (Did anyone read those Brian Jacques books?)

Coming Home - The 88 (I like really terrible music sometimes.)

The Ballad of the Dead Rat - The Teeth (I just like all of those words forming a band and song name.)

Until the Morning - Thievery Corporation (Old standby.)

Face It - Old Canes (Note to self, learn more about Old Canes.)

A Little More Time - Zox (This is all time number one Pandora song stuck in my head. I have no idea why.)

Since I Fell For You - Nina Simone (I collect all versions of this song.)

Ice Cream - New Young Pony Club (Lady rap!)

hope you at least bought your mom a card, if applicable

Sadcakes

Yesterday, the fam got some not so good news about my g-pa. Because my parents were young when I was born (24!) and their parents were even younger, we have collectively avoided the parental mortality issue. Hell, I have a great grandma still kickin' it at 87 or so. That's how we do in the OK. Right so, the news is not good. It's not entirely surprising, but still sobering.

Yesterday, I drove my brother to the ol' homestead from the hospital where the testing was conducted and rummaged around my old room for forgotten treasures. I like to do this once in a while when I get a serious urge to shop, so I shop for my own stuff! Pure genius, I know. I opened my closet to see what booty was held within, but instead of finding an awesome pair of shoes from college or cds that've been missing for five years, I found lots of small boxes mailed from said g-pa to my dad.

I opened several (they'd already been opened and they were in my closet, so it was justified snoopage) and discovered that my g-pa has been sending my dad trinket upon trinket from Dad's childhood for the last few months. One contained an engraved pocket knife given to my dad God knows when. Another contained the yellow stuffed bear Dad carried around for years, completely intact, preserved in a Ziploc bag, accompanied by a note detailing its origins. There's a jar of marbles and a box of old metal Tonka trucks. A neatly folded eagle scout kerchief. Recordings of poems written and read by G-pa's dad. Cards, books with inscriptions, handwritten notes, receipts with stories of their inception, photos with names and dates scrawled across the back.

These tangible things. The crumbling stuffed bear, weathered photos, withered papers. My memories are still somewhat tactile, but my brother, seven years younger - what's he left with? A flash drive? MP3 player? Screenshots of emails sent? Digital photos lost in the throes of Facebook? A NintendoDS? I'll preoccupy myself with the larger implications of technology outpacing our hearts instead of the physical evidence of a great mind recognizing its impending limitations.

Got me hoping you'll save me right now

Ring the alarm, I am addicted to Beyonce/Sasha Fierce. It turns out, the only way I can motivate for a run is to pump B through my earbuds at an unreasonable volume. I've purchased every worthwhile song from her extensive catalog from this:

To this:



To this:




Doesn't someone want to upgrade me? And Rihanna/Princess Alien doesn't count. Help!

Swine flu, schwine flu

NMF! Woo woo!

Well folks, it's time for the second, now annual, Norman Music Festival. Not too shabby for a blip on the radar like Norman, OK. This year's line up includes a shit ton of local bands crowding the more than 10 stages camped out on downtown Main Street and beyond. So maybe, what, two of them won't suck? It's not me, just the odds. The headliners are Of Montreal, the Starlight Mints, Tea Leaf Green (who?) and someone else I already forgot. Rumor was Joaquin Phoenix was in the mix, but I think that fell through. Balls. I'm super psyched that the throngs descend upon Norman's historic downtown to hang out in the open air and partake of local businesses, but the line up fucking blows*.

I know we're limited, since it's, you know, Norman, but really? The best we can do is Of Montreal and a local band? Of Montreal performed at OU a couple of years ago (remind me to shoot myself for living here that long) and it BLEW. Their sound went out and they were rendered completely useless. Hipster sadness abounded. Also, I think my taste in music is decidedly female. For whatever that means. Like indie easy listening, I guess. Like what my mom would listen to if she were down with the psuedo-indie commercial scene. Like, how about the Hold Steady? That would actually be a good festival band. Or Spiritualized? That would be good. Vampire Weekend's too good for the OK? Dr. Dog? King Khan and the Shrines? Shit, even Hosty?** Anyone besides Of Montreal? Dunno why I'm so negative, but it seems like a good opportunity wasted.

However, of course, I will attend because what is better than wandering around in the sunshine with lots of peeps, dogs and beer? Answer: nothing. The BF and I are scheming to find the best way to beverage ourselves without paying for drinks. As in, seriously considering parking a beer packed car right now in a lot close enough to walk to from the venues for easy access. We shall see. It might be the perfect day for a flask.

Album that's getting me through the day: Jim - Jamie Lidell.



Cannot get efuckingnough of this guy. This album's a patented commute buster. Get it. It's this weird composite of schmaltzy Stevie Wonder, super 80s Zapp ad Roger, weird Prince, and the choir from Sister Act 2. It works, though.

Another Day and Out Of My System
Little Bit of Feel Good



*Yes, I realize we are lucky to have anyone agree to play this place. See here.
**Do you live in the area? Have you not yet been to Hosty? Are you rere?

summer summer summertime (except it's still spring)

Duuuuude! It's hot out there. Hot on my arms. Hot on the part in my hair. Hot on my nose. Hot on my bare feet. Bring it, vitamin D. 91 degrees! On April 22!


Irises* are blooming. Grass is greening. Who needs post work happy hour when you can find some books, some Boylan, and some serious sun?

*I'm not actually sure what kind of blooms those are, they just appeared in my yard.

F$#kbook

I am currently conducting an experiment of sorts. This is what happens when you don't have a car or bike to take you places. As you may or may not care, I work in HR at a university. I know, awesome, right? You may also not care that I'm really bad at the FB. Like rere. I don't post pictures, useful/funny updates or comments, nor do I have a mobile device made in this decade, so there's no spontaneous posting of super awesome stuff. The moral of this story is that I have five friends. On FB. In real life, I have two. And one is imaginary. That said, I realized that work is a source of FB friends that I haven't tapped into yet. But, I work in HR. So, will people be willing to accept my request knowing that, well, I work in HR. And conversely, do I have to be careful about what I post so as to not offend anyone? Surely, I will learn the answers to these questions and more in a totallly awkward/job losing way.

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Car troubles. I has them.

Have you ever been driving to work and your car makes a popping noise, then a grinding noise, then a dying noise, then another dying noise, and some more popping and clicking before all of the dash lights come on signifying death? So that happened today. As I wait for it to be towed and to empty my savings and to keep from crying at the thought of emptying my savings over a fucking water filter and timing belt, let's all look at this and smile.


see more Lolcats and funny pictures

Is that a taco in your purse or are you just happy to see me?

Did you know, that on no less than two occassions, I have found a taco in the side pocket of my purse? Sometimes, I go to Taco Cabana (jealous?) and order too many tacos. So, I put one in my purse for safe keeping, until I'm ready to eat it at a later date. And then, you know, later, I find a taco in the side pocket of my purse.

XOXO,

Blythe

mmm... beer...

Guess where I am? In Austin, TX, overlooking 6th St. from a Hilton. For an awesome HR related conference. Guess what that means? Beer. Beer they won't sell in OK. Namely, Fat Tire.

Yeehaw!

Remember when I used to blog (badly) semi-regularly?

Yeah. Me too.

Hold onto your M-Fing hats, y'all.

There's gonna be a blizznado. Lord Gary must be creaming his wrinkle-resistant JC Penny pleat front slacks like nobody's business. I predict that all the hype of this freak storm will amount to about -.347 inches of snow in the metro.



I secretly hope I'm wrong and will have ample excuse to watch the Battlestar Galactica finale again tonight. Yeah, I said it.

While you were totally bored by the utter predictability of March Madness...

nothing else really happened.

I declare today Rick James Monday. I suggest closing your office door, cranking up the volume, and dancing like Morris Day and/or The Time.

Oh yes.*

Last night, Shain and I trekked to Tulsa to see the Andrew Bird show at Cain's. It was face melting, to say the least. We met L-Ma there, for her first Bird watching, but I don't think she left impressed. I think it takes a certain kind of dork to really appreciate Andrew Bird. There are lots of large words stuffed into spare songs, an obession with science and snacks, a violin with a classical bent, and a glockenspiel. Dork City, USA. I get off on his clearly ridiculous musical ability that he's not ashamed to flaunt as it's unapologetically innate.

The crowd was low key and our group bellied up to the side speaker region for a close look at the show without waging war with the front rows. It was a good vantage point, although I am officially old since the bass hurt my ears. He played lots of the new album, some of the middle albums and a few of my older favorites. His performances have the rare ability to make me totally forget what my face looks like or what my body's doing. I completely lose control over how my brain makes my face compute a reaction. I just stand there, bouncing along with this goofy gaze, absolutely consumed lurching toward eargasm. His live shows are really something. Shain said he likes the recordings better, but I couldn't disagree more. Watching him loop, listening to his compositions (because they're really pieces, not just songs) translate to the other musicians, hearing his sleepy, easy but strong voice ring out makes up for all crap music out there. Maybe not all of it, Katy Perry.

A Nervous Tic

Sovay

Heretics

Not a Robot, But a Ghost

Anonanimal

Masterswarm


It's not music for the masses, but music for the nerdy.

*I am in no way qualified to blabber on about music.

Are they fucking serious with this shit?

This afternoon, I was greeted by an email from my beloved Anthropologie (I don't actually buy anything since the expensive wares are made for people with real jobs and style and stuff) touting the newest rage in stuck up lady fashion land - the harem. Fucking harem pants. I'm not smelling what they're cooking. I refuse to pick up what they're putting down. Technically, I should like this forerunner of the Zubaz pant because of the roomy leg, crotch, butt, hips, whole-pant-except-ankle regions. I could eat whatever the fuck I want and possibly shoplift without worry. In fact, I have liked it. In first grade. For Halloween. Maybe it's a joke. Maybe Anthropologie teams with universities to perpetrate sociological studies to figure out if women are lemur enough to fall off the cliff wearing the harem because a trendy store says so. I don't know. What I do know is that they're $178.

Whine City USA/Food Dork Alert/Product Review

Whine City USA

Riddle me this. Why do people forget how to drive when it rains? It's really not any different than when it's not raining aside from flipping on a gadget in your car. People can drive while on their phone, eating a Big Mac, applying makeup, receiving head, completely turned around disciplining children, singing with eyes closed to top 40 radios and on drugs. Why not when there's a little bit of moisture in the air and on the ground. Really? I left at 7.15am this morning to drive 17 miles on a major highway. I got in at 8.20. Boo.



Food Dork Alert



Orangette. You want to go to there if you like cooking, food, recipes, sumptuous pictures of food and Oklahomans. And guess what? There's a book signing at Full Circle in OKC for her new book on Saturday! Yay!



Product Review



I don't smell good naturally. You know how some people smell good no matter what? Like they have natural fabric softener in their pores or something? I am not one of those people. So I like to douse myself in things that smell well. I've been using Angel for the winter, but it's time to kick into spring (even though it's now starting to sleet and it's all dark and crud). Fortunately, a former coworker popped in for a visit the other afternoon and smelled up my office with the dreamy scent of Be Delicious, a DKNY springsweet fragrance of loveliness. Sniff me.

I'm a one-two punch of awesome.

For those of you that (don't) care, I went ahead and got that haircut last week. Or whenever that was. The days run together when you work in a windowless basement.* I went to a fancy-pants salon in Edmond (the snooty suburb of OKC) to have my head massaged and drink wine and shit while they cut my hair at 7pm, because that's the only time I have to take care of these things (I've left clothes at the dry cleaner for almost two months now because I never make it home in time to pick them up, can they mail them to me?). I said to the chick, it's been since August, so I'm going to need my ends trimmed, also, I'd like more layering, and can we talk about bangs? She responded by giving me what appears to be the same haircut I had in second grade. Blunt shoulder length. Thanks. I paid my money, including a good tip, for no apparent reason and haven't stopped bitching about it because that's how I do. I am hopeless at communicating my hair desires to hair professionals. I'm eternally unhappy with the results, which is sad since my soft hair is probably the best feature I have going for me, which leads me to punch number two.

Have you ever been 27 and the puberty fairy visits you and plops a gigantic bindi like zit smack dab in the middle of your forehead? No? Lucky you. Not that you were going to invite me anyway, but I'm hiding out till this sucker's a goner.

Thanks life!**

*In all honesty, my jobs is quite all right. It can be challenging and sometimes I feel like I'm essentially volunteering, but I doubt I'll ever have bosses this awesome ever again.

**Yes, things could be worse, but I'd rather obsess over my hair than read about how sad the world is.

Sabado Gigante

Apparently, the BF has one more exam type thing for law licensing, which required him to wake up before the rooster (literally, somehow, in central Norman, there is a rooster living across the street from me - fortunately, he is as lazy as I am and rarely crows before 9am) this morning. And so, I too awoke at 6.10 and couldn't get back to sleep. I relish my weekend sleep. It is more dear to me than 99.98% of what I love. But I will forgive him for two reasons. One, yesterday, he met me at the gym and since I'd forgotten to pack, brought me my clothes - including a ponytail holder. Ladies and gentlemen, remembering, without being asked, the most crucial component of workout attire for a lady with longish hair, is the sign of a good boyfriend. Two, early morning boredom got the best of me and I tackled the week's worth of detriment cluttering up my house. More importantly, I was inspired to download King Khan and The Shrines* The Supreme Genius of King Khan and The Shrines for cleaning music. And it's awesome. I'm especially enjoying the prescient Welfare Bread.

::early morning sad music::

Never As Tired As When I'm Waking Up - LCD Soundsystem

::recession song::

Welfare Bread - King Khan and The Shrines

::more King Khan::

Torture

Sweet Tooth

*I wish I could take credit for discovering this band, but I can't.

Everybody's Working for the Weekend

Say ah.

So, this pretty much happened today.

I'd like the crap sandwich with a side of extra crap sandwich.

Have you ever woken up one morning and realized that you haven't had a haircut since August? And then you check your mail and there's a letter from the IRS that insinuates that maybe you forgot to report some of your income from 2007 and now you owe lots of money?* And then you realize that your attempt at political humor was so pedantic that even your six year old cousin made the Kenneth/Bobby connection? And work blows serious donkey balls, but you can't talk about it because it's all confidential and shit? And then you check your 403(b) just for shits and giggles, but end up sobbing? And your deadbeat, college dropout brother has been MIA for weeks causing your mother to have a slow, drawn out series of mini nervous breakdowns punctuated by terrible cell phone reception? Also, you have a denti$t appointment in the morning, which will undoubtedly lead to a crown and public drooling.

All I've managed to do to mitigate any of this is to make an appointment to get my hair cut that I can't afford because of the taxes I owe.

*The best part about this is that I forgot to report severance pay. It's not like it was anything exciting like a salary or lottery winnings.

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?

Today's the day!

Good luck, BF!

Live Blogging the Oscars

Ok, not really. It's 10.13pm, CST. So far, I'm underwhelmed. I'm also confused by the "musical" numbers. Especially this one where Queen Latifah sings for the dead people. It's morbid, but the dead people montage is my favorite part of the show. It reminds me of high school graduation. Some people get respectable amounts of polite applause (Paul Newman), while others (Mort Dillman, craft services on the set of Bird on a Wire) get sporadic hand slapping sounds from seat fillers who have no idea who the poor schmuck was. I'm half surprised Jake Gyllenhaal didn't bust out an airhorn for Heath Ledger.

Check out the goods.

Also, is it just me, or do most presenters need to enroll at the Derek Zoolander School for Kids Who Can't Read Good? Seriously.

I am a bar exam widow.

The BF is days away from the bar, which means that he's studying at warp speed, creating a permanent butt imprint in his spot at the library. I can barely remember what he looks like. I do know what BarBri books look like. In any case, it's left a lot of "me time," which isn't really a great idea. Things I've been doing to pass the time so I don't drink and shop online...

• Watching copious amounts of TLC and Bravo. The BF hates these channels. Shocking, I know. I however, cannot get enough of the Real Housewives of Orange Cunty. I love to hate this show. Bitches can't say no to tanning beds, bad hair and bedazzled boob shirts. Love it. Also, I've never followed Top Chef, but now I'm in it to win it. Hootie hoo! Team Carla will prevail! And yes, I needed to watch the oldest Duggar spawn wed his virgin bride. It's anthropoligical.

• "Writing" terrible blog posts.

• Reading online snark, then feel guilty about said snark. Dlisted is my favorite source for celebrity snark. I check it more than Kate Moss has nip slips. Everything was all well and good till I was listening to Morning Edition or some shit and David Denby was talking up his new book about how snark is ruining America. Way to make me feel guilty, turd.

• Learning how to become a perfect woman. Sarah Haskins is brilliant.

• Reading about yogi warfare.

• Lusting over other blogs. Specifically Design*Sponge and Orangette and Brooklyn Bride (no, I'm not getting married, it's part of practicing to be a perfect woman.)
  

• Memorizing the lyrics to Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog

• Misunderstanding Twitter.

Save me.

Zack Harrison Memorial Music Monday: Tuesday edition.

Let me tell you a secret. I don't like any new music right now. None of it. Yeah, sure I bought the new Andrew Bird album (he's coming to Cain's in March!!!*) and The Bird And The Bee, but they're not really doing all that much for me. It's kind of like getting the Guiltless™ Chicken Pita at Chili's when what you really want is the Awesome Blossom (p.s. have you seen this website yet?). Everything that's out there is a big fat meh. Here's what's stuck in my head:

You Left the Water Running - Otis Redding

Erotic City - Prince

Train Song - Vashti Bunyan (but all I can find is the new Feist/Ben Gibbard version)

Got To Get You Into My Life - Earth Wind and Fire version (I know, I know)




What the eff is wrong with me?

I think I'm going to turn things over from now on to some locals who know what they're talking about. Check out Salad Days Music.*

*Salad Days, be prepared for your traffic to soar by 0.

New York: The city that never pees.

That's the trouble with New York, no public restrooms. I blew my budget on soy chai lattes (chosen over what I'd normally drink because the state has the audacity of making consumers aware of the calories they are set to consume - gasp!) just so I could take a piss at a Starbucks (it was a vicious cycle). Such is life in the big city. Here it is, photo essay style:

This is my favorite grocery store of all time. I putzed around for quite some time, imagining a cart stuffed with delectable morsels. I actually contemplated shipping groceries home, but snapped out of it. While I was in the neighborhood, I found my way to my dumplings and stuffed my face with Sichuan goodness. Ah.


So (friend from college visiting NY by way of Germany), K (her sister) and I joined gpulp for a symposium she organized for her school. It made my brain work, which hurt.


Look! It's Harpoon UFO! Thank the Lord! I can now die happy.



I can't remember which evening it was, but gpulp checked her mail and lo and behold, there was a package from none other than M5K. It's true! It all makes sense if you read this. Even though it makes sense, it doesn't make it any less surreal that real life friends and blog peeps have intersected all over the place.


My first Pinkberry. It was pretty good. Not gonna lie.


$240 worth of pudding, try $960 worth of Mexican food, mostly pitchers of 'ritas.

I wish there were lots of funny stories to tell, but mostly it was just a nice retreat from daily life involving lots of walking, subway riding, store gawking, coat wearing, bagel eating (finally!) and sleeping in. Delightful.

Happy VD! Tomorrow!

You all know no one cares that some years ago, my heart was callously tossed into the deep freeze, eventually rendered as a lump of cyborg. Fortunately, soon after, I conned someone into hanging out with me, and my robot heart started to thaw a bit. Well, I might be fully recovered (as much as one can be) because my heart melted into a puddle at my feet when I saw this. Read about it here.

Top Ten Signs You're Not Ready to Procreate.

When I was in the NYC, I saw lots and lots of babies and preggers chicks. They're fucking everywhere. And then there's octomom and her litter. And, of course, Brangelina. And those Duggers. Also, FaceBook reveals news of knocked up high school mates left and right. I don't really feel the ol' biological clock ticking, but I do know that my body makes horrible cracking noises during yoga and one time last week I got a cramp in my hip during naughty time = I'm getting old. But among the thousands of reasons I'm aware of (there are surely more I am not) that would make me an unfit mother, I think the most telling is what I'd consider naming spawn. Here are my top favorite bebe names in no particular order:

Charlotte

Valentina

Savannah

Simon

Anouk

Sebastian

Clementine

Evangeline

Annabelle

Liam

Ruby

Tabitha

Oscar

Can you imagine being named Ruby Valentina?

I'm back.

But there's a tornado in my office. More later.



I'll regale you all with tales of Awesomefest09 tomorrow.

See you next Tuesday!

I'm leaving. On a jet plane. I suppose I'll be back again. In the meantime, I'd suggest watching this. Fucking. Brilliant.



Boom! Roasted.

NYC -

I want to go to there.

I took this from the window of where I stayed last time. Not bad, eh?

Get ready. The Bee-Spot is hitting the road (air) for a much needed jaunt to NYC. This week! In like two days! I will catch up with long losts (including gpulp) and eat sichuan seafood dumplings by the bowlful! I haven't been on a plane in two freaking years! I'M SO EXCITED! I'M SO EXCITED! I'M SO scared. Anyway, if you're in the NYC area later this week, and you want to meet me even though I reference Jessie Spano on a regular basis, just let me know. No one? Oh, ok.

I am drooling, here, big time.

Welcome, The Lost Ogle Readers!

hi. disappointed yet? keep reading.

Blythe's Recession Tip #46: Have an ice storm!

When unable to scrape and snap the layers of ice from your car, you can't go anywhere to spend dollar dollar bills y'all, and voila, you save money! I'm already up like $400 from not buying stamps to mail my bills. Best. Ice. Storm. Ever. I suggest you put on some old school winter brooding music, and stare out your window. 100% free!

I highly recommend Van Morrison - Astral Weeks (because, this can lead to, you know... also, usually, free).

and/or Janis Ian - Between the Lines (this won't lead anywhere but self loathing).

This might also be a good time to get some pre-spring cleaning done. I'd suggest starting with your liquor cabinet.

Happy Ice Day!

Last thing, if you have half an hour on hand and want a lifetime of jokes, just watch THESE.

Oklahoma! Where the wind comes sweeping down the plains.

Except replace "wind" with sleet and "plains" with asphalt of death. It only took me an hour and a half to get from 23rd and 235 to Nompton. In the middle of the afternoon.

I blame you, Gary England.