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.