Baby Bud

Meet Bud, Bud Light Haynes to be exact. He is my first child. I am as proud of him as any mother ever has been. Protecting him is one and only priority. I make him wear his seat belt and insist that he sits in the passenger side back seat even though he is well over the child weight restriction limit and has been for some time. I just can't stand to see him grow up and leave me. He wears that seat belt religiously and that towel too. Sweet little bud loves his towel, cant get him away from it... he drags it around the grocery store with us and even takes it to bed with him. God, a mother's love is really hard to explain until you become one.... sigh...

Only Children

Tonight's rerun of Gossip Girl was so incredibly terrible that this happened to entertain ourselves durring the comercials... yes, indoor human horse dressage. But that is another blog... tonight I want to discuss Only Children. Hot people often started off not as hot people, but as only children. This is because their parents had no other prior commitments to stop them from helping their child reach their ultimate hottness potential (uhp) For example, Suri Cruise wears red nail polish and high heels at age 4 and you guessed it - she is an only child. Tom and Katie are doing their best to help their only child reach her uhp.

However, being raised as the only child/masterpiece of older parents is hard. (Especially for Suri, someone call child services!!) Without other distractions my mother always had time to pack me lunch. So I always got homemade food not lunchables like my cool multi-kid-family friends. And on Christmas morning I would get stage fright when all the adults stared at me as I was the only one sitting under the tree surrounded by presents to unwrap while my friends happily fought with their siblings over gifts. Other kids watched Full House, I watched Meet The Press. Like I said, it was hard.

After surviving something like this, I found myself seeking out other people who had endured similar hardships in their formative years. Luckily I found 2 other girls to befriend and live with who both had older parents devoted to the singularly important task of raising them and them alone. We quickly bonded over our parallel histories of being over-photoraphed etc. One of the main qualities we had in common was our ability to play with ourselves for hours upon hours as children.

Unlike some Only Children who abandon their solo games for group activities when they enter mainstream society, we have not lost the gift of alone-playing. In this picture you see Only Child MRW demonstrating that she has not lost the ability to self soothe. Here she is showing us how an only child plays 'horsey'... without another sibling to ride as the horse, mr was forced to be both horse and rider, an exhausting task which she spent hours doing each day of her youth.

PGS who is playing the role of the jump in this picture was also an only child and often chewed on tables to keep herself busy during the long quiet years of her childhood. This is how an only child plays 'termite'. (this is a less commonly known game, but quite stimulating none the less) Lucky for both of these lonely souls, tonight they no longer have to play alone, and can be horse and jump together. If i hadn't been busy capturing this priceless moment on my pinkberry (lame ass blackberry that is pale pink... what was i thinking?) i would have gladly joined in as the role of the jockey.

So tonight I bid you only children everywhere to strive for your uhp, you may be alone, but you are still hot!

Would You Rather, An Etiquette Guide

For years now, Hot People like us have supported and engaged in the long standing, mind-stimulating game of “Would You Rather?” The game calls upon members on the cusp of the Hot Generation to pick between the less of the two worse options. And no, there is no ‘passing’ (that’s fucking bullshit). But every now and then, the boundaries are blurred, the lines are crossed, and you find yourself vocalizing to a large group of people that you would rather go down on Oprah than be locked in a coffin with a dead Michael Jackson for 15 minutes.

(Just look at that caramel beauty. We know what you’re thinking. And at least, she’s hygienic. If you disagree with our above ‘rather’, we highly encourage a spirited debate in the comments section.)

It is at this point when your royal Hotness begs the question: when and when not is it appropriate to play this provocative game? And more importantly, how much do you want to slap or disqualify the person that is so hung up details or better yet, reposes the question as if to introduce a new question? That is not how it works, my friend. If you are one of these people, then chances are you probably possess other annoying qualities. Like abbreviate entire sentences. And say “babe” and “sug” a lot.

But alas let’s not tangent. Truly this is an inclusive game and a great medium for expression. (Much like the gchat custom away message…more on this nonsense later.) The truth is you really get to know your friends when a question like, “Would you rather receive flowers or oral for the rest of your life?” is posed. Think of it as team bonding, trust falls, or what you may. These questions are poised to push your intellect into realms you've never thought possible. When it comes to WYR's, there’s NEVER a wrong moment to pull out this bag of tricks. Except in front of your boss and 'doing you' is one of the two options (sorry tr, unacceptable).

Can you imagine the potential for the following first date conversation?!?!

Him: So what do you do?

Her: I sell copy machines. What do you do?

Him: I’m in finance (specifies i-banking group in twenty words with some combination of leverage, capital, and global which all somehow tie into title.)

Her: Speaking of doing—Would you rather do Beyonce or Rihanna?

Him: I'm not really that into...

Her: You know what, forget it. I know what you were about to say and that is just racist. This was never meant to be. Goodbye.

So in addition to the joys of Love Day, we expose Would You Rather for what it really is—sexually explicit, character-defining entertainment—that Hallmark should seriously consider incorporating into their latest collection of Sympathy cards. Because let’s face it, with a genius WYR in play, you’d have no reason to be sad.

Vow of Silence has been lifted

Since april of 09 spicy and I have taken a voluntary and necessary vow of silence. We had become unstable and unfit to blog.

But over the past seven months we have had lots of time to reflect and rekindle the blogfire that burns bright within us.

Many compelling stories have gone untold throughout these dark months but like a phoenix rising from the ashes, we emerge victorious to bring you our thoughts on….

Love Day.

Love Day is an awesome new holiday craze waiting to happen. Spicy and I learned about Love Day from the inventor of the holiday herself just this past weekend. Yes, while enjoying our namesake foods: spicy tuna rolls and edamame, we got the low down on LD...

It seems that Love Day is a floating holiday, inspired by love and designed to reaffirm affection for one’s mate in a surprise attack fashion whenever you see fit. Each member of a relationship gets one opportunity for Love Day each year to be feted for no reason other than for being so lovable.

Gift ideas range from uniquely decorated socks to tickets to major sporting events. This is the next frontier of made up holidays, only unlike ‘national bus driver appreciation day’ it is actually worthwhile because by taking part in love day you get an excuse to be unpleasantly aggressive with pda. (this clearly does not apply to the bus driver day unless you’re dating a bus driver... and not to be mean, but if this is the case then honey you deserve love day annnnd the bus driver day)

Furthermore, for those of you in a ‘sort of’ relationship, the ones without specific anniversaries to celebrate, this is an excellent option as it does not discriminate based on length of relationship accuracy. You can celebrate it at any time and it does not draw immediate attention to landmark dates in your relationship.

This is a non-confrontational way to celebrate having a wipped significant other and guarantee yourself a returned favor.

*It is in the fine print that love day must be reciprocal between both parties of a given relationship regardless of the initiation of love day generally being made by the female as a sneak attack giving the male no opportunity to give his input

Anyway, I rest my case. Hot People love love day.

Sheer anticipation!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!u93nwrqgadxjgkh

Is that how the saying goes? If so, then i love big dumps. (I believe MRW owns this classic Vail, CO tee in which I borrow the saying.)

To brief our non-lex followers, Edamame and I will be returning to our highly anticipated spring alumni weekend on Friday. As previously noted, there are few acceptable schedule conflicts that prevent this natural return to the motherland and weekend of unsubdued rage. And however important your excuse for not showing, a congregation among the greatest thinkers (and drinkers) of our time can be justified. (For instance, LA attending the Costume Institute Ball with the hopes of mingling with Brangelina = slightly acceptable.)

However it seemed to hit me last night that I no longer have a solid foundation of the fashionable standard at this fine institution. Since that dreaded day of June 5, 2008, I have traded in my rainbows for heels, spring cotton bubble dresses for leggings, and pearls for big jewelry and dare I say plaid shirts? Okay I'm really not this trendy but just go with it. Anyhow, the idea of regressing back to this standard seems confusing at best. What is acceptable on the runway that is windfall, traveller express, and sparks-thrashing dance parties? I feel the sudden urge to hit bergdorfs and enter the mindset of a 20 year old where my only concern in the world was starting an email chain to coordinate the event of tubing down a river. (This is in fact more complicated organization than you might predict-- think getting tubes at gas station, delegating rides, splitting beer hounding efforts, getting jdunn's waterproof ihome, and somehow starting at the same time on river as boys while consequently guesstimating margarita meeting at Donny T's for non-tubers who had sucky spring term afternoon class.) Whooo that was a mouthful. End point-- college was hard. Real world harder. And let's face it, I'm already not playing with a full deck of cards. When does it get easy?

Anyhow--I leave these fashion nuances to resident expert, EdaMAMA. Turning this one over to you miss repulsed-by-$600-gladiator sandals...

GAME ON

Ok, enough is enough. I can only be shy and retiring for so long. My internship is drawing to a close, I have A LOT to say about that and also I forecast extreme boredom and sudden outbursts of terror about my undecided future to ail me over the coming days. Expect constant blogging.

As they say, blogs are like snowflakes. pray for a blizzard.

Skyping Your Heart Out

What you have just feasted your eyes upon is virtual love in its most raw, beautiful and extremely complicated form. In order for the crooning of this classic love ballad to take place Franz had to travel on foot through the icy Austrian streets to his local school house at 4 am, log onto Skype and await the response to his call from his one true love, MR Wyatt. This is creepy enough. But it gets better, MR Wyatt luckily has every form of modern entertainment/communication device known to man and was able to clandestinely film the entire performance as it streamed through the skype internet lines to her macbook via her blackberry storm. She then emailed this file to my blackberry world edition and I was able to post it via blog for your viewing pleasure.

Sheeesh! I pine for the days when proclaimations of love were made by throwing stones at your sweethearts bedroom window to awaken her so that you could bring the glad tidings of l'amore. Things have gotten complicated. Even I am twittering, gchatting, black berry messaging and emailing while blogging this.

But in less than 10 days time, we will break free from the vice hold technology has on us and come face to face with the organic, living, breathing Franz.

Franz is truly a stand out American. One of the great thinkers of our generation, Franz departed to serve the global culture of intellectual thought for these long icy wintery months by imparting his boundless knowledge upon the future of Austria. And upon the supple minds of the children of Waidhofen an der Ybbs in particular. But his tour of duty is coming to a close and he is returning to his adoring fan base in Washington next Friday evening. Everyone is so delighted by this prospect, it outshines Christmas and our birthdays combined... and almost outshines the release of Twilight the movie. Almost. I am wholeheartedly confident that he will tease us, unease us all the better just to please us.

I know all of you out there not lucky enough to be in DC are green with envy that you wont be spending the weekend with this stone cold fox. I'll be sure to blog about the finer moments of his visit. But that still wont be the same as being here. In the words of Franz...

YOU WIIIISSSHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!

Hott Verbiage of the Day

Bear fight. And no I do not speak about the brown grizzlies of Northern Alaska. The ultimate concoction that will fulfill you with unequivocal tenacity, strength, confidence and endurance. An excellent tribute to St. Patty's but ultimately an all-season experience. This mastery of skill will make bystanders look at you with pure admiration. What is it exactly? The fluid repetition of conquering both an Irish car bomb and jaeger bomb back-to-back as if ingesting a singular drink. Thus, the brown and black 'bears' battle it out so to speak in one's stomach which has since been transitioned into a metaphorical Yellowstone National Park. Just one piece of advice-- no matter how rigorous the battle, keep it in the cave.

Alert: You are being PLAYED

Ok, let me just say, WOOF! Do NOT buy this shoe!!! You'll thank me later. You are being seriously taken for a ride by the fashion industry.

I know, I know, your thinking I am always bitching because Washington is a style vacuum but as it turns out I can be just as caustic about the women in fashion-precocious cities for their one night stands with random trends that they inevitably never call for a second date... because in the cruel morning light, that trend turned out to be a real dog.

Anyway, I think the fashion pledge-masters saw this recession as an opportunity to cultivate couture that is so offensively unflattering that even if we still had the cash to blow on 795 dollar gladiator sandals, we wouldnt. (because we are glad we dont have pediatric disabilities that force us to bind our feet in these satanic contraptions). Seriously Shopbop.com, a place I once revered as a short list of fashion do's is now so unrecognizable that I literally thought I had accidentally clicked on a website that sells leg braces for children with polio. The very reason women's shoes do not look like men's shoes is so that we can make our legs look sexy. Sorry to be so pre-suffrage but it is the truth. Now you go try on a flat footed black leather studded strappy/dominatrix leg brace to the knee and tell me if you look sexy or suddenly ten pounds heavier and like a bull dike from the time of the Vikings mixed with Forrest Gump at age 7.

These shoes take the Oscar for best leading actress in an Ugliness Competition. If I were in charge of Osama Bin Laden's punishment once he is captured, I would force him to do runway shows for the rest of his life span wearing nothing but these shoes. If someone ressurected Hitler, I would also expect him to do this. Gladiator Shoes are to High Heels what Depends are to the Thong. Every "your mom is so fat" joke applies to these shoes. No, wait... every dead baby joke applies to these monstrosities. I used to make fun of women in plaid shirts, leather leggings, jumpsuits and vests. But I take it all back. I am devoting my hatred of unflattering fashions 100% to gladiator braces.

I really cant figure out how anyone thought these shoes were a good idea. And at 800 dollars a pop, If i see anyone actually wearing these shoes I cannot promise that I wont hurl myself at her and engage in physical combat.

I am seething with excitement for the day this fall when I get to waltz into Barney's coop and see those godforsaken gladiator sandals on the sale rack, still available in every size... reduced, nay SLASHED down from $795 to $69.99. Although on second thought, by fall they will have probably started pushing some new sort of shoe so ugly that my brain cannot even predict its ferocity.... and fur lined jumpsuits for cool weather... oh god. *I would make a Snuggie reference here, about how according to the imbeciles that make the decisions around here, it is probably the fashion of the future, but i refuse to honor it with that amount of attention*

Anyway. Now that I have told you how much Hot People Do Not Like these shoes, tune in soon to be treated to something so unbelievably hot-people-worthy that you will literally go into catatonic shock from the exuberant brilliance of its majestic presence.... field reporter MR Wyatt has been recording footage of the hottest men on the east coast. She has found the winner and his audition video will be revealed in the days to come. Stay posted.

Noteworthy Nuggets of Practical Information

Enough slogging, I'm bringing spicy back. A series of busy and pathetic excuses (namely twilight) have kept me away from edamame in our virtually verbal relationship and she has single-handedly kept this proverbial titanic afloat in dedication to all ten of our fans. 

A few noteworthy issues to speak:

1. Lindsay Lohan has self-sufficiently launched her next pivotal stroke of genius. No it is not another faultless attempt on the big screen, a lesbian threesome, or even designer leggings but a line of SELF-TANNER. That's right, Lilo is an American pioneer. First to shoot double imaging in her masterpiece portrayal of Hayley Mills in the Parent Trap, Lindzz is nothing but original. (Many argue that she only took on two roles in this flick, however, if you recall she actually played four-- American girl, British girl, American girl pretending to be British, British girl pretending to be American.) And from experience, the third role is most challenging as I (along with Miss Cogar) tend to take this on quite often. Most commonly while combining vodka sodas with public appearance.

But lets get back to the real issue here. Taking tanning advice from Lilo is like taking diet tips from Kirstie Alley (see above for Lindsay's even and totally genuine "glow"). And yet she is determined to paint the town orange. 

I think the best part of this entrepreneurial episode is that she ingeniously tagged the product "Sevin Nyne", a play on her favorite numbers. Which let's face it, I thought were "Sicksty Nyne." Perhaps she got confused. 

And while I do not plan to patronize this particular bronzing stimulant (I dare you, Kay), I cannot hide my true feelings for LL. Ultimately the way Edamame's mother feels about her canines teeth brushing regiment, I feel about La Lohan. J'adore the whore. 

2. This weekend we had the uncanny opportunity to run into Leah from Top Chef. While most bystanders would typically let any unassuming reality star be left alone, our friend Dargan decided to eloquently rush up to her screaming "Leahhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!! OMG OMG LEAHH!... are you still with Josea????!" Of course the answer was "I can't comment, but yes." So there you have it, straight from the source. Thank you miss dargan for exposing US weekly-quality information on what otherwise would have been a mundane Saturday afternoon. 

3. Now correct me if I'm wrong but I thought we were in a recession. My favorite shoe store has closed, the stock market is in the toilet, I'm even noticing less kebab stands. And yet there is one unusual retail venue that seems to be prevailing through it all. Babeland. The Neiman Marcus of self pleasure devices taking up prime real estate in not one but two locations in nyc. This is not only a mystery but as seemingly deceptive as the elliptical calorie counter. And yet I can only think of one logical answer: closet masturbators. 

Upon closer inspection and a close support group, we decided to take a peek and figure out how this business model was surviving. Despite the over-the-top sales pitch and how-to guide as performed on employees own hand, it was difficult to wait the five minutes before sprinting out of the store in hysterics. I'm glad were so mature. But really, who is patronizing this place besides bachelorette parties, LL, Sam Ronson, and Maggie Nugent? Certainly gives a whole new meaning to the term economic stimulus package...

4. Congratulations 'mame on your hand modeling career. I hope it is more successful than Lilo's self- tanner. Plan to receive the ultimate parafin/moisturizing package from yours truly. And if youre lucky, an edible arrangement (ps i found the headquarters and source of EA in the west village this weekend!!!)

Opportunity Is Knocking

Today my 23 year long professional dry-spell has come to a sudden halt. After literally tearing my hair out since mid-December of '06 that I would never find a viable career post graduation I am finally greeted by the welcoming, open arms of employment and justification for existence. Thank you, God.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, opportunity is knocking and don't bother getting up, I'll get the door. No, I am not being rewarded with a job because of my standout performance at one of America's finest small private liberal arts universities or for my ability to nail an interview or present a flawless resume chalk full of summer internships and letters of recommendation. No, the world is not recognizing me for my performance in the business arena or for my credibility in an academic setting. In fact, no one is remotely interested in hiring me for anything having to do with my brain.

I am going to be a Hand Model. Its true. I was approached this morning in our office kitchen and asked if I would be the model for our upcoming photo shoot for some print ad's. A hand model that is. This is my dream come true. I am already doing hand exercises at my desk - the shoot is on the 24th so that gives me a paltry 12 days to get these phalanges whipped into shape! And my new job comes with perks.... thats right, I get to get a manicure on the agency tab. Jealous?????? I thought so.

And they say we're in a recession and new jobs are completely extinct. Please... I got a job by doing nothing but hanging out and being awesome. Man, what a high. Feel free to send letters of congratulations, bottles of champagne, and bouquets of flowers to:
3 Bethesda Metro Center
Bethesda MD 20814

Bye Bye Meat

2009

1501

Tonight I have consumed both funfetti cake and espresso brownies in honor of the birth of one of America's most supremely divine beings - Ida McMaster. And now feeling not unlike an inflated beach ball or perhaps the way the octo-mom felt around 40 weeks, I would like to address the issue of Bye Bye Meat. Or in laymen's terms: arm fat. 

Dictionary Definition of Bye Bye Meat: noun. Colloquial synonym for arm fat named after the flapping of the repository for excess deposit of love handles which migrates to the space between elbow and shoulder on all females 21 years of age and older while they wave their arm in the traditional western gesture of "Bye bye!" Develops proportionately to age and consumption of beer. Cannot be cured by natural practices. Invasive surgery may temporarily decrease evidence of the BBM.

Now I know you all thought that BBM was created by Verizon as an instant communication tactic for the already text-addicted generation we are a part of but infact BBM has existed for CENTURIES if not since the dawn of time, although no pictorial representation is available to shed light on when the epidemic broke out prior to the spread of naturalism of representation in art. It was particularly dangerous and prevalent in the time of the old masters (before the elliptical and amstel light were invented), as BBM is abundantly represented in all portraiture of women from this period. (See upper right of post for an excellent anatomical representation of arm fat by Giorgione)

But unlike the black death, death in child birth and crooked teeth among other maladies of the scientifically stunted past, BBM has yet to be out-witted. It is still a mysterious degenerative condition that is inescapable for approximately 49% of the worlds population in 2009. (the lucky bastards that are not in the high risk demographic are men - 50% and supermodels - 1%). While it is not fatal like bubonic plague, it is equally as unflattering. Its onset is unpredictable, but experts agree that it develops most aggressively around the time that female humans have reached physical maturity (or discover beer and funfetti). Once the female develops traces of BBM one of two things immediately occur:

1. she notices the new found flab and aggressively devotes the next fifty years of her life to yoga, free weights, water aerobics etc. and eventually ends up with muscles that inevitably will turn into dangling BBM flaps that tremble in the breeze. (See Madonna in 3 years)

2. she does not notice the trace levels of BBM rising and eventually develops full on BBM syndrome which can never be resolved or removed. and must resort to the ever-cringe-worthy...

HAND ON HIP POSE (See entire facebook community)

the Hand on Hip Pose represented above in the upper left of this post is to date the only viable solution to avoiding upper-body fatness being tagged all over the internet and disseminated to everyone you went to preschool with. Unfortunately while we are all desperately devoted to using the HOH, many of us have no idea how to casually execute it and most of us end up merely drawing attention to our nervous fear of exposing BBM instead of our goal of masking its presence. 

A failed HOH is most noticeable if the girl is arching her back or looks unmistakably self aware of how awkward she is being. Successful HOH's occur when the girl holds a drink to distract from why she is randomly cocking her arm at a 90% angle just because she got saddled with being on the "end" of the picture.

However then we are faced with the issue of tackiness. Is it tacky to be drinking in pictures? Which is worse - being tacky or being fat? Should we perhaps carry Perrier or Smart Water in our purses to whip out if we hear the mechanical buzz of a cannon powershot elf coming to life to do battle against our flawed limbs? That way we could be ready and holding a socially non-tacky item that disguises BBM and reminds everyone that our arms are so slender thanks to a diet of sparkling water, steamed vegetables and raw almonds.

You may think I'm obsessing but in this digi crazed world that we live in you can not be too aware of your BBM. You barely return home from events before they are spelled out minute by minute in facebook albums for all to see. And we're not even famous. Well, your not. I am the author of this blog afterall...

Anyway, in closing, BBM is here to stay. Hopefully soon a safe, non invasive laser surgery will be readily available on par with Botox to help curb BBM at long last. But until then, keep casually inching towards the middle of group pictures and buy a good pashmina. 

ps. The Man in the right of that picture also appears to be doing the HOH, but i think that may just be part of the LGBT officially sanctioned photographing pose.

Twilight - stuff hot people LOVE

Today marks a celebration in my life, but also a great loss. I have finished the final book in the Twilight saga. I feel simultaneously set free from this evil captor that dominated my life for the last month, but also sad and lost without its constant influx of unyielding passion.

The hold Stephanie Meyer has had over me is truly unique. She turned me, determined cynic with highbrow literary tastes for serious tomes of historical non-fiction into a desperate addict of rampant teenage lust. Incredible. I used to think that the only worthy depiction of true love in the literary world was The Alchemist. But alas, and it pains me to admit this, but Fatima aint got nothin on Bella. Girlfriend is one hormonal heavy weight.

Reading Twilight has been an adventure of mind and spirit. I have sunk to the depths and soared with the eagles. And now it is over. I feel used and abused. And like I am about to experience withdrawal. I already feel anxiety and moodiness creeping at the edges of my emotional equilibrium. I am going to blog my way out of this hole. I hope you are ready to absorb the scope of my misery.

There is nothing more invigorating and titillating than discovering another twilight junky. I happen to be so lucky as to live with the world's greatest living fan of this series. We have shared many a chuckle, and many more a wistful tear for dear Bella and Edward. We will never truly be happy in any human romantic scenario. Our hearts are his.

However, even the most committed fan eventually loses their high from just reading alone. We needed something stronger, some new way to find that passion. And it came to us on Thursday night. While stumbling through a martini infused haze we suddenly began hissing at each other in traditional vampire fashion. Our crazed eyes met and we knew that the obvious next step was to begin living the Twilight story, right here, in Glover Park.

The debate that then ensued was visionary to put it mildly. There was a lot to decide. Who would be who? Clearly I am Alice - tiny and graceful helloo!!!!! No, but she has brown hair and can see the future, so thats legit. And Polly has to be Rosalie - blond, the epitome of physical perfection, and instinctually maternal. But beyond these two obvi's we were a little bit unsure as how the rest of the players would shake down.

Rad was a real problem. Should we lean towards Jacob's devotion, height, and innate canine ferocity? Or toward Esme's loving spirit? Or perhaps Bella - the mothership of womanly devotion and emotional attachment?? So many possibilities.

And of course, Edward is not yet assigned. If you happen to know any Edward like humans, Polly and I are both eager to be introduced.

Anyway, long story short, we LOVE twilight. So MUCH. and we love hissing at each other at bars and making claw hands like we are about to attack and suck your blood. So, if you see us doing this, don't freak out.

we know this person

and its safe to say she's a total knockout. Lauren Claire Gunn does not only work in an environment where she is referred to as the 'gunn show' but has taken up the secondary title of shredmaster flash which holds true to her ski bunny roots. After my recent visit to Jackson Hole, WY to observe lcg in her natural habitat, it's safe to say this hottie is made of nothing less than raw talent (and superior outdoor performance wear). Take a look.





If I ever get fired from the document management world, I have sworn to take up the shreddy/bulldog lifestyle of the Jacksonites where you might be getting a whole new perspective from the Tuna. Who wouldn't want to live in a place where bartering PBR is a legitimate currency and facial hair is the new pilates? These two have it made.

This person better watch it

I will not disclose the name of this imbicile, but here is an example of a completely offensive facebook status. This is literally the epitome of IPDA...

______ is arbys, naptime, clean, workout, cuddletime. ♥.

ahhhhhhhh!akdfja;jfaoiewji34345@$%&^&($%!!! if she is not referring to cuddling with a large pillow or a puppy, she is going down.

Internet PDA

As the graduating class of 2008, we are the veritable lab rats of the facebook.com. As the first college freshmen to discover and explore this new magical internet destination, we are all guilty of falling prey to the gayer aspects of this site at one time or another. However, just as we shrugged off the chunky heeled sparkly, see-through jellies from Gap Kids of our formative years, we must move on from these facebook faux pas and become mature, respectable members of the cyber community just as we are begrudgingly becoming in "real life." 

So, lets get right to it... IPDA. This issue has been gnawing at me and my fellow bloggers for weeks now. And I think its time we blow this one wide open and really get to the heart of our concerns about this epidemic. As a blogger, the concept of ipda is a bigger subject to develop a stance on than it is for just your average joe. As such an active member of the cyber world, it is my responsibility to understand ipda and be ready to debate it at the flip of a switch. Imagine how careless it would look if I hadnt prepared an opinion on and solution to the ipda situation if asked by the press?? embarassing to say the least.

Here is the basic premise - PDA's or public displays of affection are generally any act that may fly in the sack, but is awkward in the checkout line at the grocery store, in front of small children, or in any other non-voyeuristically themed public arena. So if you find yourself licking your signifcant other or casually fondling their upper thigh while his or her mother is sitting across from you - stop - you are commiting a PDA and putting yourself in danger of being extremely annoying. But moving on, you werent born yesterday, you've all seen it - and you have all been repulsed.

*disclaimer: This information in no way applies to BOMO or any other hot verbiage... BO activity is completely forgiven and considered accidental. I have no bones to pick with the bomo, the offender we are trying to crack down on is the sober pda*

Moving on. IPDA differs from PDA in one main aspect. The main difference is ipda requires no physical contact to be just as nails-on-a-chalkboard annoying as regular pda even though the original absolutely 100% requires it. This discrepancy shows just how wiley of a predator ipda can be, it can exist without the lifeblood of physical contact so desperately needed by its original form.

Instead of stroking, nibbling, lounging, etc... ipda thrives on excessive facebook communication between two people who clearly spend at least 85% of their time already in contact. This is clealry excessive, unnessary, and blatantly ipda. Let me spell it out for you - if you are in a relationship with someone - as in committed and interactive on a daily basis - there is literally no reason in existance why you should ever need to write on that persons facebook wall.

The facebook wall is a public forum, just as public as the checkout line, it is not remotely an appropriate space to flaunt your passion.

Another danger zone for witnessing ipda is any album of a vacay in which the cover picture is two people smiling (non sarcastically) despite wearing leys and holding coconut shaped coctails. or decked out in hiking gear. or ski gear. or holding giant foam hands at a ball game... you get the idea. this album is undoubtedly a 60 picture long direct ipda assault on your eyeballs. watch out.

Probably the most direct and ruthless attacker of the ipda scene is the status update. With a few syrupy key strokes you can easily alert the entire facebook community that you are currently engaging in some gag-worthy activity with your other half. And since we all secretly check statuses on a routein basis, we are bound to be violated by these updates whether we like it or not. It is an unavoidable evil. 

If you ever do need to suggest to the world that you are in the mood for love via status update, might i suggest a choice movie line reference such as, "____ , wanton sex goddess with a very bad man between her thighs, oh hello mum".... otherwise, just promise to never do it.

And do not even get me started on the idea of "being in a relationship with" or "married" or "engaged"... after sophomore year when you were jokingly engaged to a female, this status really went out of style with a vengeance. If you ever feel the need to marry someone or get engaged, maybe you should think about not being simultaneously addicted to taking note of it on facebook. Maybe you should not even be on facebook. Just something to think about. 

So just to set the record straight, IPDA is not condoned by Stuff Hot People Like in any regard. Consider us your Miss Manners of the cyber world. Here to keep it clean. Spicy and I promise to never engage in ipda with anyone now or in the future. Not even if one of us suddenly meets and falls in love with the actual Thomas Crown and he starts wildly posting on one of our walls. We will maintain our level of ladylike decorum and abstain from responding via wall post on tommy's wall. 

Please comment on this posting and give us feed back on the following blogstion (blog+question).....

Should we post a list of offending couples on this site who need to evaluate and rethink their facebook behavior?? 

Personal Info internet disclosure... too much or too perfect?

Blog followers rejoice! and turn your attention to my completely truth serum induced blogger profile. When I saw this opportunity to tell you all about myself, I could not contain my excitment. So I didnt hold back, I let it all hang out. Now you can finally truly feel close to me in a new way. This opportunity to share via www was almost as exciting for me as the Facebook 25 things craze. Although that got me so worked up I never did post mine, since I could not get the number of things about me down from 80 to 25. I am a virtual encyclopedia of interests and hidden facets. Anyway, since I am typing this blog on the receptionist's computer at our office lobby desk, I better keep it short. there are still a few people out there (my employers, specifically) that I am not yet ready to share all 80 things with... or this blog... brb love you guyssssssss

ps. Spicy, your blogger profile blows compared to the thought and loving attention i devoted to mine. I suggest you take a moment to stop skiing arm-in-arm with lauren claire gunn long enough to pay attention to the people that truely matter... your blog followers and update that profile. I am itching to update yours myself, but I know that you may want artistic liberty and control on this one. If you need a picture to upload, I have a few picked out.

david after the dentist

Watch this 6 times in a row and tell me children shouldn't be high more often.

Hott Verbiage of the Day

Today's hott verbiage extends from the previous bomo definition of January. If you haven't already learned and incorporated this into your daily vocabularly I advise you to do so now.

BoHu-- blackout hookup. For those bomos that take it a step too far out of MO territory and feature "appendage appearances"/ any sort of base rounding beyond a friendly 2nd.

Furthermore

The more I think about it (and having an unpaid internship gives me plenty of time to do this), I cannot stop wondering if there isnt something inherently wrong with this AXE chocolate man. He looks way too much like the old-fashioned caricature, "darkie" that is synonymous with pre-civil rights era racism. Seriously, look at him...that grin is so... He looks intentionally stupid. And the more I think about that...and the product's name "Dark Temptation"... the more I feel like AXE is literally pushing jungle fever. When is this lawsuit going to erupt???

Valentine's Day - One Leper of a Holiday

It is a rare individual who is truly at peace with the concept of Valentine's day. To not have a deeply ingrained nervous tick about this holiday is to have the emotional fortitude of a mountain lion. Seriously though, think about it, no other holiday or really any other day of your life, so abrasively smacks you in the face and says, "hey, what is wrong with you?"... i would imagine the 30th birthday isnt far behind in discracefulness, but at least it only happens once. Vday unavoidably rears its ugly head on an annual basis whether you like it or not. And considering that 4 out of 5 marriages end in divorce, this is a pretty shitty holiday for about 90% of the western world.

Truely a cruel holiday. I supose kindegarten teachers, grandmothers and hallmark would disagree. But to the rest of us, this is just plain uncomfortable.

And as if it werent bad enough already. A new embodiment of all things terrible has arrived on the scene just in time for vday.... AXE Dark Temptation has hit the market. (See above picture) If you ever find yourself depressed or bored, visit the AXE website and you will suddenly be dissolving into tears of laughter and joy at the sheer repulsiveness of this company's marketing tactics. The basic premise here is that women are cannibalistic sex starved banshees that will pounce and rape any man who spritzes himself with AXE. This apparently appeals to guidos the world over.

And especially, on valentines day, the true banshee really rears its ugly head. In the new AXE dark temptation campaign, women literally begin eating a man who is wearing the new scent in public places, so overcome with lust and hunger for chocolate. This is exhibit A precisely what is wrong with this god-forsaken holiday. AXE seized this opportunity to remind humanity that valentines day makes women into dangerous, ravenously and generally instable creatures. perfect.

I am seriously considering the comedic potential of actually buying this scent just to see what AXE deems dark and tempting. Do you think that it actually smells like hersheys?? are the men of the tri-state area going to start running around now not only gelling their hair but also dousing themselves in the scent of popular desserts? Utterly irresistible, i know.

To all of you single ladies out there, i wish you good luck this vday season. To those of you lucky enough to have to prepare yourself for the emotional battery of whatever terrible gift or flower arrangement may be coming your way, I also tip my hat to you. this will not be easy. But rest assured, by simply stopping by your nearest CVS pharmacy you can snag an AXE body spray as a gag gift sure to diffuse the awkwardness you undoubtedly will encounter at some point this holiday weekend.

hot stuff people like

I have a two-fold apology:

First, that yours truly, Spicy Tuna, has been slogging (slacking + blogging) as I explained to Alice yesterday evening. And secondly, that I have not only slogged but left you for an interminable week with no material but my large and painfully pale thigh. I'll have you know that edamame originally wanted me to pose nude for her grandeur thesis but this chocolate onesie was my compromise as I told her point blank, "I want you to draw me wearing this, wearing only this…"

Nonetheless, I never sufficed as her muse rather she takes her inspiration from waiflike models and linear figures, further propelling the status quo of unrealistic female body image. And yet, she strikingly excels at paperie and is alas extremely talented. Which is why the opportunity has arisen to promote and shamelessly plug http://www.inslee.net/ for all your paperie needs. Stationary to any occasion, for any occasion. (I hear the calendars are going fast...)

Need I say I miss this?

The Woman, The Myth, The Legend

Shes not making that up, btw. she really does have a Gucci onsie with titty joining gold hardware. (Exhibit A to the left)

Ok, I know Spice Master Xerox is going to murder me for doing this to her. This is really cruel. And I hope if she has any strange pictures of me wearing a baithing suit in the dead of winter, she will keep them hidden although now I guess she has the right to unveil.

But lets face it - only Spice would do this - literally she is the only person in North America with this kind of undying support for her friends to drop everything at a moments notice and come over at ten pm on a tuesday in late January, wearing only a trench coat and this gucci number (which she picked up in the Firenze Outlet Mall Domination '07)... simply because her useless studio art major friend wanted to sketch her inherent physical perfection.

So Thank you Spice. You are an inspiration to women everwhere with your resilient kindness and openness to being an (almost) nude artists model with practically no warning. And your incredible metabolism which allows you to take part in such activities without shame or lovehandles. No one else on earth can consume a daily caloric intake in chaco tacos alone after a full day of eating whatever crossed your path and doing no more exercise than ferverently wiggling your foot at light speed all day long while murderously focusing on something like researching flying squirrels or perfecting your russian accent.

organic coconut shampoo

Why is this morning so fantastic? Because I recently acquired some coconut shampoo from duane reade (preferably pronounced ‘duaney readey’) and the scent is bringing me to a place where I am wearing an espresso gucci onesie with gold hardware between the titties (seriously where could I find such a thing?) and sipping on pina coladas at a swim up bar somewhere in mexico. You have no idea how much swim up bars provide the benchmark for a good vacation. Meanwhile the dismal reality is it is 19 degrees here and I have spent all morning teaching an over-the-hill admin assistant how to push a green button on a copy machine. 

But there is a silver lining to this crawling week—a week which I have just explained via interpretative dance to my coworker by crawling like a female lioness from cube to cube. I am waiting for Friday to string along until I infiltrate the district with my call girl behavior and british accent…both equally enticing.

Edamame and I will be throwing our blog launch party this Saturday at Los Cuates sponsored by Svedka Vodka and Hot Pockets. They seriously do not know what's about to hit them--aside from tequila depletion and general state school behavior. Afterwards we have rented out the national mall where Chris Brown is scheduled to serenade us and SamRo has committed to spin. Barocks might even deliver a brief but important "blog we can" speech on the impact hott yet irrelevant bloggers have made in the 21st century. Truly the possibilities are endless. 

PS that is me and my hubby mid-pool on our vacation to the puerto vallarta Sandals. I am pointing to the bar and he is pulling me away. Love is truly a battlefield.

Dordon Fekkuld

If you look like these men and are not already registered members of Midtown/Financial District Manhattan… what are you waiting for??

There is no better place where you can freely share your passion for excel shortcuts and driving loafers than the investment banking world. And make no mistake, JP Morgan, Bank of America, and Goldman are not merely career opportunities—they’re real world fraternities. Once admitted to the analyst program, you have arrived.

How else are you going to achieve your properties in Greenwich and Palm Beach? Certainly not in marketing. The serious finance-sseur requires strict attention to global and domestic markets and such knowledge should be inserted into every conversation whenever possible. During meals, commercials, happy hour, and recreational kickball games. This will surely raise your personal stock in others eyes, particularly among those less financially versed. The truly devoted are encouraged to merge their former college lifestyles and linguistics into the ibanking arena as to rise in the ranks of their peers. Unlike the Billary attitude, the goal is not irreversible middle agedness but perpetual youth where beer, chicks, and one’s former lax life reign precedence. Many will look to the banker to take care of the tab at the end of the night, which he must generously oblige as to parade his bonus (even if non-existent, its been precedented in sheer attitude). We coin this personality…

the “Dordon Fekkuld”

“Dordon Fekkuld” refers to the two great legendary financial heroes of our time—Dick Fuld, former CEO of Lehman equivocal to the Chuck Bass of banking, and Gordon Gekko, fictional badass with his era-defining “greed is good” mantra. If you passionately obsess over dolla dolla bills and have similar diabolical charm, then I suggest you infiltrate Midtown Manhattan now. The average Dordon spends his days lunching at Lennys, using his premium Brooks Brothers membership card, relying on certain medical pick-me-ups which allow him to ‘crush it’ all night long, overtipping, and lastly (but most importantly) discussing his ibanking status. Similarly, he refers to everything he likes and/or enjoys as moneyyy. This is not in fact a reference to currency but an expression of extreme gratitude. 

As a prerequisite to the entry-level, it is recommended one sees Wall Street and Boiler Room at least ten times and can recite quotes from each on a moment's notice or whenever the situation should apply (preferably in front of other coworkers to confirm you’ve seen these). A typical Dordon always carries a WSJ on the subway which in actuality is a decoy for checking out petite blondes on the 6 train. Once a Dordon Fekkuld, you are on the path to irreversible and unquantifiable kingdom where you have justifiably earned the right to disregard non-banking individuals and/or manners at all times. Make no mistake, they are inferior. 

After all, you are an ibanker and you rule the world.

Billary Clawdorf

If you look like these women and are not already a registered resident of the District of Colombia... what are you waiting for!?!!

I assure you that no where else to my knowledge harbors as many tasteless young people as Washington. What other globally recognized locale allows you to step out on to the busiest shopping street and see at least 45 people wearing quilted burb plaid jackets, pearl studs, and driving loafers in olive green?

For the Washingtonian, professional life and thus professional wardrobe choices are the direct equivalent of immediate and irreversible middle agedness. Becoming politically astute unflinchingly requires strict rules of conservative dress. I like to refer to the Washington Woman by a term coined by fashion icon and expert on all things trendy, MR Wyatt...

the "Billary Clawdorf"

In a text book definition, "Billary Clawdorf" can be explained as : The intensely un-chic love child of Hillary C.'s masculine professional urges and Blair Waldorf's suffocating preppiness.

These women are generally shaped like and behaved like Hillary, while also being equiped with the morose fashion sense of Blair prior to hosting a needle pointing ladies fund raiser. The resulting outfit choices would send natives of most other major cities running for the hills.

(See above photographic evidence of the average billary... this picture is particularly accurate as most billarys tend to move in droves. once you go clawdorf you never go back)

Reaffirming the Vow

This is me and Spicy, just two years ago, on our Swiss honeymoon. We have just shredded (lcg reference #89) our way down from the peaks of the Matterhorn and ducked in to a quaint and oh so romantic slope-side restaurant, complete with this cozy balcony with seating enough to accommodate nearly 15 newly married couples who are in for a taste of authentic swiss delicacies such as cheese, melted cheese, and bread covered in melted cheese.

This restaurant was a true gem, hidden among the pines and frosty drifts at an altitude staggering enough to make even the not hungover people swoon, with absolutely no advertising, and no way to access it except by skis. And yet it managed to be packed to the gills with rosy cheeked pleasure seekers and daredevil shredders like ourselves consuming what should be illegal amounts of fromage and alcohol prior to suiting up to ski themselves either into oblivion or back to the ritzy town of Zermatt after lunch.

As you can see from the angle of the pic (taken by a kind set of British newlyweds) we are tempting fate by downing enormous beers prior to making our trip down the rest of the mountain. I believe, if memory serves, that my ski performance level was not as hardcore post lunch. There may have been a ski-popping off fall, but no, I did not call the state troopers. Spicy kindly helped me up and then we skied home to base camp and got massages wearing string bikinis from a 19 year old swiss dude who discussed pop music and hostels with us while pummeling our fannies with the lights on. It was weird.

Why am I bringing this up? My reasoning is two fold.

One: this time next week I may or may not be preparing for the arrival of one Spicy tuna to the district, two years older, nay wiser, but our love is as strong as it was that day on the Matterhorn.

and Two: the notion of reaffirming the vow.

As Barack did at 7:35 est Wednesday, January 21st, I propose that we repeat our vows and oaths to uphold the bonds. Yes, if B felt the need merely 32 hours after his first swearing-in to reaffirm his love for the Statez, I think this two year anniversary of our honeymoon would be a fitting time for a similar ceremony. What do you say spicy? We could rent out Cactus Cantina for the ceremony. Or, since I know you love your tuna sashimi grade, we could consider the opulent modishness of OYA instead.

In the words of Barack on his slap happy enthusiasm for inauguration round due, “it was so much fun the first time…” and I can assure you, it was.

Ps. Hillary Clinton was interviewed today on her assuming the position… as head of state. She managed to say “box” and “stool” and discuss the “third leg” all in her two sentence quote. Thata girl.

HELP

I just honestly said, "I feel like I should contribute to the blog, but I have so much twilight to read online."

My life just hit an all time low.

Mergers & Acquistions: Spanx, your humps

What will they think of next? Somebody tell me why I would need Spanx under a jersey knit pant that seems inappropriate for the work environment and meets the polar opposite of functionality. I don't (nor do you) which confirms my theory that the Bod-a-Bing! Pant is marketed to the previously spanked—the people who can’t live without this suction trap. I know because I used to be one of them. A self-proclaimed Spanx addict if you will. I couldn’t meet the universe without a fresh set of Power Panties or Slim Cognito Seamless Mid-Thigh Bodysuit. But let me tell you—this contraption was never incognito. It merely concentrates one’s lovely lady lumps into a singular sausage link instead of several. Have I mentioned the visual improvement is minimally effective? And can we discuss the obstacles to intimacy when Spanx-sporting? First, one must avoid hugging, swing dancing, etc in fear of someone noticing your totally non-seamless control top (which by the way is never in control). Secondly, if things move on to a more pg-13 playing field, what does one do with the Spanx? I recommend not hiding them under a gentleman’s couch right before he moves out then forgetting their location in the AM. If this situation happens to you, denial would be the most appropriate course of action.

Now as if the Bod-a-Bing innovation weren’t already overkill, were you aware of the Power Mama? Yes, a Spanx line entirely devoted to the preggers at large. So stick this in your pipe—your embryo is now subject to involuntarily wearing Spanx. Completely helpless of such trimming agendas. Long term studies will link stunted natal development to the mommy power panty. And you thought drinking, drugs, and sushi were bad…

Nevertheless, the Spanxvasion has just begun. Brace yourself for the future of this suction suit. Pretty soon Spanx will dominate the cankle, forearm, and earlobe markets and we will find ourselves in a head-to-toe body suit with cutouts to see, breathe, and do other things. Women of all sizes will get stopped walking down the street by pedestrian crossing guards asking if they were planning on robbing a grocery store. Why this anti-progression I ask? If we wanted to resemble Marie Antoinette, Jane Eyre, and their 28 layer corsets we would. Let's stop this before disaster ensues. We are henceforth founding SpanxAnonymous-- a forum where one can turn to in quitting their quest for $72 bodysuits and for god's sake, let it all hang out.

Hot Verbiage of the Day

We know our readership is maybe (too) comfortable with today's hot verbiage, judging by the large majority of you who belong to the renowned facebook group "Making out is HOTT!" by her very own hotness Lauren Claire Gunn. But here's some new 8:::>tation to incorporate into your already over-abbreviated vocabulary.

BoMo: noun/verb. To inappropriately suck face while in a venue that is mysteriously out of place over a span of time you'll never recall. Not to worry, this is what bystanders are for. You'll initially laugh it off, but pretty soon the moral hangover will set in. You'll want to get answers. What? Where? When? How? Why? In that order. And luckily you'll rack up some pieces of the puzzle over an estimated span of five minutes to five years down the road. Occasionally, you'll go a lifetime knowingly not knowing. This is largely determinate of how good of friends you have and how many of them were in your same position. Most common misconception: If you think graduation day marks the end to a blackout makeout era, think again.

Girl 1: You were BoMo-ing all over the bar last night.
Girl 2: You're kidding. With who?

SoMo: You guessed it. Sober makeout. Caution: leads to marriage and babies.

Girl 1: We totally SoMo-ed this morning.
Girl 2: OMG things are getting serious.
Girl 1: I know. We're definitely dating.

A special thanks to the 8::::>tation of some gtown bias for turning us on to this.

notes from our contributing gypsy

As the proud owner of both The Birthday Book and The Relationship Book which explore the secret language of astrology and its place in our decision making process, I feel it is my duty to report to all hot people about the fragile astrological condition of our universe. As it now stands, we are enduring the malady of Mercury Retrograde. Don't panic. To the untrained mystic, this simply means that planet Mercury appears to be orbiting backwards. Scientifically, this little runt of the solar system has not actually changed direction, but the illusion of it carries some pretty heavy horiscopical consequences. Namely, routine transportation and communication are interrupted and faced with unforeseen changes and blockages.

So far this week America has seen a 50-plus vehicle pileup on an interstate in New Hampshire, a desperate Indiana money manager crash a plane in Northern Florida, and good god, a US airways plane take a dip in the Hudson. Take that naysayers. This shit is real and it's here to stay...well at least through the inauguration. Also, I advise all readers to hold off on all major decisions and life changes. Although, I find it hard to believe that readers of this particular blog are faced with any major decisions. If you are, stop reading this garbage blog, find a dark room with a fully charged ipod, and think about the trajectory of your own life.

In the meantime, watch your back until this astrological rain cloud is lifted on February 14th. I scoff at the irony. Clearly, the stars really are blind.

Love,

Mercury Poisoning

(yes, we thought this went well with our pan-pacific authorship)

editwhores note

I must apologize. I do in fact preach an inclusionist mantra-- I was simply down on mankind when I authored the controversial Tomorrow's Issues column.

Coniving Chili. Had to.

GIRLS

Tomorrows Issues managed to discriminate against nearly every sect of humanity. And to call Osama Bin Ladden "Bin" for short in the process. Oh and make a noted effort to avoid charity work.

Spice, people are going to get the wrong idea.

Also, why are so many soup companies launching attack ad's lately? Who knew soup companies could be so feisty... such puree premadonas, such bisque badasses, such minestrone meisers. Seriously, just mention MSG and you're sure to launch a lively debate about V8 vs. progresso...

....bouillabaise bitches... sorry had to.

Secondly I would like to say that I am honestly proud to be a kappa today. Any one who has seen Emily Allender's facebook pictures of my fellow sisters of they key on skit night '09 will understand. Women so realistically sporting facial hair is truely the greatest tribute to the blue and blue since.... the Rancor porch. I am legitimately honored. <<:*%$ (that is how i imagine you would do that sweet kappa hand shake via blog)

Ok, not living in the past......vindictive vichyssoise...EEEK i cant help it!

Thirdly, if you are bored at work:

http://nymag.com/daily/intel/2009/01/gossip_girl_notices_it_has_a_p.html?f=most-commented-24h-10
and...
http://www.cbsnews.com/video/watch/?id=4696315n

that second one seriously may make you cry though. ahh...the joys of sisterhood. (prevailing themes of this entry: GIRLS!!... love ya lauren claire gunn... and soup puns)

pathetic.

Ok to wind this up on a note of openmindedness and to show that we are not writing a blog about rejecting world culture, which we are not, I would like to say its almost fridayyyyyyyy and I am personally very excited about this supersized weekend of change. DC is going to be so much cooler than wherever you are for the next five days woooop wooooooooooop. and the next four years. and i mean, really, would any one have truely wanted to stay out all night (bars and restaurants are staying open... change in its most accessable, tangible and positively delightful form) if we were swearing in monsieur mccain? i mean, love him, wish he was my grandfather, but does not inspire me to stay up much past 9.

ok one more for good luck....consomme crapbags.

goodnight.

*only downside, we dont know any adult democrats to invite us to important parties. shit.

Tomorrow's Issues

You're right, let's get back on track. (Supposedly if you say this phrase to an ex-druggie, it insinuates heroine tracks...I learned this from 90210 tonight. But then again what does 90210 know about heroine?) Make it official edamame, enough of our witty retorts, correspondence, and individual concerns-- I have checked myself into Cirque Lodge and am D2B like its 1999. 

Tomorrow's Issues:

1. Something in my biogenetical makeup results in greasy hair around 2 pm when I shower the night before. I've noticed this is genuinely commonplace among the 'rougher' of heritages. My mother is Irish. Should I be concerned I am the product of an affair?

2. My work environment gave me a BIG responsibility the other day. They nominated me to a secret party planning committee. Yes, just call me Phyllis. I must now produce a 30 minute video before Thursday. This is what I get for being an early adopter of technology and owning an ahead-of-the-curve laptop. 

3. One bberry back, one to go. I am officially on a first name basis with Bryan, the assistant manager who resembles Randy Jackson, at the AT&T on 50th and park. It goes without saying he could talk a little less, apply for the Biggest Loser a little bit more...

4. Charity work. This goes with number 3. I do not feel that I must give anymore of my time and effort to those less fortunate after providing at least 5 middle eastern cab drivers with free cell phones this year. I must make no further attempts to expand their networks or get the message back to Bin that I truly am prime hostage material.

5. What is this rumor of a Solar Storm?? Is this the new organic food coop title for heat wave? Or does it lean more toward Y2K? Because seriously, that was the biggest letdown ever.

6. One day closer to 24. One day closer to Botox.

Today's Issues

(In no specific order)

1. I need to get over my fear of intimacy with people in the service industry. Yes, it is unnerving that they are paid to act like they like you but I must learn to not be afraid. They’re false politeness is not a plot to slay me despite my sensing some inherent evil in most of them.
2. Public transport is not plebian. Eventually I may have to face the fact that riding the bus or metro is an aspect of city living that even I am not too good for. Also, riding the bus would provide ample time for reading powerful literature like the “twilight” series.
3. I may have to abandon the idea that someone is eventually going to finance the medical procedure necessary to make both of my breasts the same size. Although I still maintain that walking around with a c cup and an a cup is unnerving and not good for balance.
4. If today is seriously honestly only Tuesday…. There is no threat powerful enough to suggest how annoyed I am about this.
5. I do not actually have a real job
6. But I do have a blog? Where I am referred to interchangeably as ‘edamame’ and ‘california roll’….?
7. My cell phone is reportedly not going to work during inauguration week because of the massive influx of cell phone toting liberals
8. I need Christian Louboutin black patent leather 2 inch tall heels. And I need them to be free and to be delivered to me, also free of charge.

Sunday Funday

Edamame, I do not remember the golden globes. Why you may ask? Because I started taking tequila shots at 1 pm after our Essex unlimited mimosa brunch. I do vaguely recall Kate's shocking win, Tina's suck it speech, and how messy is the new coifed. I also distinctly remember thinking I had ESP because I was surprisingly calling all the wins like 10 seconds before they were announced. And half-correctly.

Sunday funday was the highlight of my weekend and should always be encouraged. What started as a friendly little brunch, merging college networks amid crabcake benedicts turned into a raging T time where I found myself still crushing brews at 11 pm last night, supporting a sport I frankly do not care about, picking up lost singular shoes from various bars from the night before, and diving face first into a plate of supreme nachos from brother jimmys.

I get it-- this is your typical lush behavior however if this isn't part of life, then I do not want to live. Call me inappro, but Sunday Funday is here to stay.

Now, edamames, give us something good. Like why Drew Berrimore deserves to attend the GG's and we do not. 

Where aarrreee you spicy? I need you to entertain me. It is Monday, it is freezing, someone has yet again pointed out that I look like Shannon Dohorty or whatever her name is from 90210 which is a grave offense, and today is day one post-jean-washing and I feel like a Christmas ham that has been too tightly packaged. So please, blog about something completely nonsensical... maybe your midafternoon tequila shots yesterday would be a good jumping off point. or the golden globes... what is wrong with drew berrimore's hair?

no dice

Edamame is right. Northwest DC is no place to raise our Silky Japanese chickens (sjc). They do not ‘rough it’ so to speak as they are a comparable breed to that of the maltese—sassy, self-indulgent, and the epitome of sophistication. (By the way, I used to say epitome like epi–tome…rhymes with rome…until someone informed me that this was the incorrect pronunciation about a year ago.) Plus the security system that would host them, which I presume would be similar to that of an electronic fence, would be way out of our budgetary means. I couldn’t live knowing there were crazy liberals running around DC trying to free Darfur AND the chickens.

Let me explain the situation in New York. We could probably host them in our living room which is about 10 x 10 feet and the only common area where we eat, watch top chef and other fine pieces of entertainment on what looks to be a stolen plasma, but in fact was purchased at full MSRP value (thanks to our Italian correspondants and connoisseurs). To the unfamiliar, you might actually think we sell drugs and roll like gangsters. There are wires everywhere and we eat TV dinners. This space additionally doubles as a closet and bathroom. In summary, the conditions would be tight. I hope Mary Kate & Ashley like hardwood floors.

I could see the sjc’s slowly gaining weight due to the four course meals Lily would provide. Though on the flip, she might actually butcher and sautee our pets in some nice garlic and geniuine EVOO. They may even be incorporated into a nice tagliatelle dish with shaven truffles. Truly the options are endless. Similarly, I could see Lizzy feeding our prized balls of fluff spicy yellowtail rolls.

So after they die of mercury poisoning or sheer boredom, there isn’t even enough grass in the radius of 10 blocks to properly bury them. After 10 blocks, I would have to take the subway and well I think it’s an unspoken no-no to travel with dead chickens.

I know what youre thinking, enough with the fowl language (get it? ha). On to more important things like the possibilities of Edamame running into LaLesbo this weekend and her gf who resembles a 12 year old boy, Sam. I am so jealous I might cry and then immediately run to Penn Station and hop on the next train down.

As for me, I too will be taking a dip in the hipster pool. Catch me at pink ele or kiss & fly this evening. In the words of a high-pitched blonde, I am H-I-P these days. Loves it.

Dangerous Living Conditions for Silky Chickens and Other Pets

The Walnut does have a small grass...landing strip... if you will. We grew it ourselves using a non-conventional method of covering our entire yard with burlap sack in hopes that it would yield the luscious green lawn promised to us by the hardware store employee who sold us 15 feet of burlap.

Unfortunately, the environment of northwest DC is a relatively violent place to rear chickens, puppies, and even to leave adult humans unattended. The Georgetown cuddler is the number one offender in our parts, thus far he is most famous for getting in bed with - and then doing no further harm to - random sleeping women, but there is no telling what he might do to the silky likes of mk and ash.

Furthermore, one of my roommates is highly prone to lighting fires in our fireplace which i suspect has no ventilation whatsoever and also has a distinct fondness of grilled chicken. So far he usually inlists the aid of the panini machine for grilling and safeway for the meat... but his manly instincts may kick if he were to see two long-furred delicacies prancing delectably around our front yard.

Imagine the horror of arriving home from work and finding him skewering mary kate with a fire place poker... or worse yet, constructing a crude rotissery contraption in the fireplace and seasoning ashley to be roasted over an open fire. ghastly. Dont get me wrong, I am not accusing the roommate in question of having any violent tendencies whatsoever. I am merely saying that you cannot be too careful.

And with the election looming large, there really is no end to the traumatic possibilities of what some crazy person might do if they saw me parading around town with chickens on a leash.

What about you Spicy? Are there any indoor facilities in your building for jsc's? I would imagine that new york would have at least one jsc grooming salon and organic chicken feed coop.

mary kate & ashley

Speaking of fowl, above is a depiction of what the late Mary Kate & Ashley would have looked like. (Keep in mind, this was pre-bulimia/Promises visits/Heath Ledger). There was a constant debate as to whether the Nostril or Rancor lawns would be a more conducive living environment. Ah they are amazing. Edamame, how much room is behind the Walnut?? Perhaps we can dedicate MRW's self-installed grass patch to these furry fellows.

TGIF, Ingorance, feathers

Ok, first things first. Spicy. Loved the post, you know how much I love incorporating fowl into my life - be it clip on feathered headdresses from urban outfitters that unnecessarily cost 24 dollars, or designing the living arrangements for japanese silky chickens that we had planned to keep as pets. whatever happened to that idea btw?? i really wish we had actually bought jsc's and named them marykate and ashley like we had planned to. what a waste....

But I cannot help but point out that Ignorance does by no stretch of the imagination apply to the concept of intentionally avoiding someone out of spite. This is such a wonderful paradox that you used it (ignorantly.. wink wink) to define your section on ignoring people. loved it.

Anyway, it is Friday. I have never been so thrilled about this in my life. Not sure why as this is a pretty insignif weekend. I think it because tonight is the night I may debut my clip on feathered headdress from urban. Just call me Blair Waldorf. I really hope this trend blows over soon, but nonethe less totally psyched about sporting a side-of-the-head fluffy monstrosity at least once. why not? the ultimate goal would be to find another girl in the same establishment as me also wearing a toupee of down feathers and get her to partake in a normal conversation with me while completely ignoring the fact that we both look like retards. the only way to make this any more glorious would be if someone took a picture of it so i could relive the moment again for posterity.

Another reason for delight over fridayness: impending plan to see Lindsay Lohan's girlfriend, Sam Ronson "spin" as Spicy might say, tonight at a club in dc. a club in dc. yes, this is a mysterious new prospect. but the unexamined life is not worth living.

It is almost noon, and I am completely swamped with correspondences. I dont know how you all do your paid, offical jobs. I am totally busy from 9-5 with gmail, gchat, facebook, textmessaging, voicemail, and now the blog. there is no time. sometimes i barely have time to look up from gchat to acknowlege livestreaming real time people who are standing next to me talking to me. and i am forced to confront the worrisome issue: what is more important to my life? - responding to the blinking box on the lower right of my computer screen or fostering pleasant relationships with coworkers?

Oh one last thing Spice, the carrier pigeon as a way to bolster the tradition of the handwritten letter speaks to me in particular as the number one martyr for the return to note writing. god bless you.

Messenger Pigeons

I want one of these. I could name it Cornelius or Henrietta depending on its gender, but there are general guidelines and concerns I must share. For instance, what is the weight limit of the message itself? Do they have a maximum radius, perhaps 20 miles, that they cannot exceed before becoming too dehydrated and forced to make an emergency landing? Do they receive messages in addition to send? Must I buy it insurance to protect against unplanned collisions into freshly Windex-ed windows? Is it a fixed cost when you buy the bird or does he charge in a similar fashion to Fedex-- by weight class, size dimensions, and delivery zip?

Reasons why messenger pigeons are still pertinent to the 2009 arena of hotness and my life in general:

1. Tradition-- let us go back to a time when notes were handwritten and delivered by a set of freshly manicured talons

2. Mystical-- if Harry Potter is doing it, so should everyone (that is the second HP reference I have made in this blog-- I dont even like that homo)

3. Surprise-- what better than to receive a friendly or unfriendly unexpected note midday, perhaps a little love peck as well

4. Creativity-- the options for outfits are endless and an outlet for one's creativity. I am envisioning a seersucker beuret for the spring season.

5. Ignorance-- when you are ignoring a friend, what better way to inform them than via messenger pidgeon to tell them you are not talking to them.

6. Unanticipated Value Adds-- the potential that they could double as a doodie dropper on the Olivia Palermo's of the world makes them that much better of an investment

7. False excuses to build things-- how great would a doggy/birdy door look on the wall? It could frequently stop by while I am watching the hills and I could exclaim "Why HELLO cornelius!! What news do you have for me today?" in a blend of universal accent (primarily leaning toward a borat-british intonation)

And there you have it ladies and gentlemen. 7 excellent reasons why we should reintroduce messenger pidgeons into our hot, overstimulated, Internet-obsessed lives.

Just don't sodomize them.

Sodomy

January 7th, 2009 our beloved Spicy learned a new word. Sodomize. She also learned that she used it unaware of its loaded connotation in a previous blog posting. I believe in the exact context she sang the praises of "sodomizing young men at Christmastime." Also in this post she offered advice to men on how to "spit game like Beyonce" and that having in-home stripper poles is particularly practical during the holidays.

This is why we needed to have a blog. We have so much to share with you.

great minds blog alike

spHOTlight on these two gemini geniuses. we highly approve. especially of that tasty looking jimmy dean sausage/chocolate chip pancake. heaven on a stick.

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Leaving Lex Vegas

Clean Slate.

Ok, I have just had a breakthrough. this blog was washing the whole horse at once. trying to rewrite the bible. bit off a little more than it could chew.

In the world of blog, my new years resolution is to try to see this as less of a massive statement about my human experience and more as a forum for the listing of random thoughts about my life. much healthier and less likely to induce feelings of doubt about self worth and competence.

spicy, i send this out to you, what do you think? we have two unique perspectives (nyc and dc) on life post lexington - year one - to offer to the world if we can only ground our immortal spirits long enough to write something comprehendable... (also not a real word). how do you feel about this?

for instance, i could write about today, a normal day in the glamorous, ever entertaining life of a washington resident.... today i went to a three hour meeting and said nothing. not one comment. i did eat my cosi salad faster than any one else in attendance though - we all prove our worth in unique ways, no? i also wrote six thank you notes by hand and had a relatively pleasant chat with the starbucks man this morning. (part of my '09 plan to be nice)

for the last four months he has not acknowleged that he sees me almost every week. but finally today after i said, "medium coffee" (i refuse to use the word grande... so nouveau riche) he said, "you always get that" (he sounded utterly saddened by my not wanting a grande non fat tazo tea rasberry cooler with splenda and an extra shot).

anyway, that is what has happened today. i am now going to yoga and then to home to sit and stare at my roommates because our television, internet and phone lines are nonfuncional.

i told you it was glamorous.