these are a few of my favorite things

Sorry but I got nothing in terms of story ideas. I'm dealing with some job-related jitters at the moment. They'll soon go away but until then, sit back, relax and enjoy some filler...

This week's installment is entitled "Shit I'm Really Digging These Days." Enjoy...

:: Someecards.com
Fuck Hallmark! This site has cheeky online greetings for every occasion. One of my favorites (in the Flirting category): "I had a great time and will wait two days to call you." (Courtesy of The Lovely Jess via Dirty Holly)

:: How to Avoid Jacked-up Summer Feet
The kind folks at Real Simple have a few handy tips for overcoming the ritual blistering and unsightly scarring that inevitably plagues our feet in these early days of flip-flop season.

For you fellow lesbos in need of a little bit of translation... I discovered that breaking in sandals is quite similar to the process of breaking in a softball mitt. Pass it on at the next meeting!

:: Lily Allen
This broad's got a filthy mouth and has no trouble running it. She's a bit like Fiona Apple back in the day, only she's funny and not banging David Blaine. Oh and she cites Blondie as a major influence, and that, my friends, is never a bad thing.

:: Little Children
At the risk of having to surrender my gay card... Sweet Jesus, that Patrick Wilson is mighty tasty. Oh, and the rest of the cast and the script and crap like that are good too.

:: IndieFeed
My good friend, Phoebe's Phather, was kind enough to point me in the direction of this podcast which helped expose me to some of that newfangled music the kids are listening to these days. I needed some guidance because, seriously, the bulk o' the artists in my iTunes library are so old, they fart dust. If you'd like to check out my iTunes activity, look me up on iLike.com. Mind the dusty farts, please.

:: Hobocamp
This blog is written by another of my dear friends, Meg. Sometimes Meg discusses poop and feigning deafness. To my knowledge, she's not combined the two themes in one post, but there's still time...

Enjoy! Have recommendations of your own? Leave 'em in the comments. Book suggestions, in particular, are most welcome. Danke kindly.

catching up

I am pleased to report that, save for the occasional and very tame, singular cough here and there, the evil funk is finally gone from my body. I'm no longer blowing my nose like it's my job, which, despite being easy work, isn't all that pleasant nor satisfying.

Okay, enough talk about gross bodily fluids. Let's get caught up on some other happenings, shall we?

On Friday, I met up with the ever-delightful Helon the Felon and we went to see Hot Fuzz. Dear God, I loved this movie. Never was the term "bolognese" used so successfully for comedic effect, if you ask moi. Go see it. You won't be disappointed. If you are disappointed... Pbbbbbbbblt! Jog on!

Saturday was pretty much a washout. My preliminary plans to go to Fire Island for the day were scrapped so I took advantage of the free time to get caught up on personal shit. And by getting caught up with personal shit, I mean "watching episodes of The Daily Show while eating Peanut Butter Cap'n Crunch right out of the box." I was very successful in this venture, FYI.

I had planned to do household chores, some writing and other responsible tasks but well, I'm a lazy procrastinator. By the time I got a spark of motivation, the fuse box in my apartment building decided to up and die leaving the entire building without power for about four hours.

Most people would wish that they were not home to witness such an inconvenience. Me? I was glad I was aware of the power outage so that I could promptly clean out my fridge once the power was restored. Yes, I know if you keep the door closed, the cold will stay inside the unit for several hours but I'm an overly fussy freak, particularly about dairy products, and I promptly tossed out every product in my possession that originated in cow's udder. Because, ew.

But then, it got me to thinking about all the times I possibly lost power when I wasn't home and I unknowingly ate cheese or yogurt that wasn't consistently refrigerated. I'm not going to lie to you... I gagged a little bit at the mere thought because, well, I'm a lunatic who clearly has nothing better to worry about.

When not dry heaving over perceived exposure to improperly refrigerated dairy, I managed to pass the time reading by flash- and candlelight and watching clips of The Colbert Report on my brand new cell phone.

I wanted to treat myself to one of them there fancy Treo jobs but after careful consideration (translation: having to buy groceries with change found in my couch), I decided to scale back my plans and go for a more affordable model.

Despite the money saved, this phone I ended up with is no slouch, I must say. I can record movies on it, take decent pictures, watch video clips, check my email, use Instant Messenger and access the web. It's all fancy and highfalutin and shit. It's also quite complicated looking. Whenever I use it, I feel like I'm about to uplink with a satellite feed from CTU or whatever.

And, finally, I wrapped up the weekend in NJ attending my niece's christening yesterday. The baby smelled like clove cigarettes after the ceremony because she was anointed with chrism oil. Those of us who enjoy the occasional clove passed the baby around and inhaled the aroma emanating from her oily head. I also amused myself by crafting the wispy strands of her hair into a fauxhawk. Screw hair gel! Holy oil makes for a very effective and durable spiking agent. Pass it on.

Note: American Idol finishes up this week so I promise I'll be spending less time over on my other blog and more time here. And if for some reason I don't make good on this promise, I at least vow to feel very, very guilty about it. Isn't that nice of me?

Now if you'll excuse me, The Jesus and Mary Chain is now on David Letterman and I need to go squeal like a teenage girl.

true colors

Oooooooooh! Aren't I fancy? Along with the esteemed Joe.My.God. and Dorothy Surrenders, among others, Ham, Cheese and Wry [sic] has also been selected by the fabulous Cyndi Lauper for a blog shout out to help promote the upcoming True Colors tour.

Sure, Cyndi flubs the title of my blog slightly but whatever, it's Cyndi Lauper and for a brief moment, she was aware of my dopey blog. So, I'll deal.

Check this out:

Here's a bit more information about the True Colors tour:

For the first time ever, music legends and today's hottest artists take the stage for a historical musical event -- Cyndi Lauper, Erasure, Debbie Harry, The Dresden Dolls, The Gossip and The Misshapes with host Margaret Cho join in celebration of the inaugural True Colors concert tour in support of the Human Rights Campaign. This 15 city nationwide tour, presented by Logo, kicks off Gay & Lesbian Pride Month on June 8th at Las Vegas' MGM Grand Garden Arena. The concerts will feature five hours of nonstop music with other exciting special guests appearing on select dates throughout the tour including Rufus Wainwright, Rosie O'Donnell, Indigo Girls, THE CLIKS and Jeffree Star with additional guests to be announced.

For official tour & ticket information, please visit: truecolorstour.com.

Thanks!

anatomy, explained

Despite my sickly ways, I managed to hoof it across the Hudson River to visit my family for Mother's Day. Fear not as I made sure to steer clear of the new baby so as not to infect her with my funk.

The So-Fucking-Cute-I-Could-Just-Smush-His-Head-One-Year-Old Nephew has a cough as bad as mine so he and I were quarantined together. I sat him on my lap and talked to him... and he pulled my hair. I tried reading him a book... and he tore the pages. It was so sweet. The fact that he's a destructive beast only endears him more to me.

He had a dirty diaper at one point and well, that was not at all endearing and I wanted nothing to do with it. I summoned his mother and she took him aside to change him. Despite the courteous distance, the changing was still within the line of sight of those of us congregated in the family room, particularly the nosy, prying eyes of The Adorable Seven-Year-Old Niece.

She's seen her cousin get changed several times and by now, she's begun to notice a pattern, in particular, his hand movements and where they tend to... uh... roam when he's diaper-less.

Today, she took her observation a step further and emphatically stated a cause-and-effect theory she had been working out in recent months:

"He's always picking at THAT THING so that's why it's so squishy."

I don't know that I completely understand her logic but, regardless, it's still brilliant.

So let that be a lesson to you boys... If your THING is squishy, we'll all know you've been picking at it.

on yugoslavian resistance groups and barry gibb's dentures, among other things

I have now reached Day 6 of The Funk That Won't Leave. The strangling 3AM coughing fits are holding steady and as such, I continue to become reacquainted with the early seasons of 80s sitcoms on Nick at Nite.

The real bummer about this cold is that I don't have my usual accompanying sexy sick voice. I usually get this hot raspy thing going on but I sound more like Fran Drescher than Janis Joplin this time around. It's sad, really.

I've also been having some really funky dreams. I passed out during the day yesterday and boy, did my subsconscious have a time of it. I dreamt that I was part of some armed resistance group in the former Yugoslavia. And the dude from The Full Monty was there. Alas, he wasn't naked nor did he dance around to "I Believe in Miracles." Bummer.

Last night I dreamt that I went on an interview at HBO (not where I work/will be working, FYI) and I was taken into a room where I was grilled by a panel of lame question-asking corporate suits. I could see them deriving pleasure as I squirmed and floundered while trying to tackle their poorly-worded queries.

It was one of those dreams that felt like it was endless. It was so frustrating. I understand why I had the dream though -- I've been approached about a new position and part of me is concerned that my job will be nebulous and ill-defined. The Yugoslavian rebel strike force dream, however, well, that's just baffling.

I'm a little down in the mouth but once I rid myself of the evil that's been plaguing my body, I'll be back into the swing of things. However, I have been able to amuse myself lately by making fun of Barry Gibb's dentures. It's a really effective treatment. Try it sometime.

ricolaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

Okay, so it turns out, it wasn't allergies. Well, it's partly allergies but dude, I have been sidelined with the nastiest chest cold the past few days. I have one of those coughs that lifts me out of my seat whenever I'm seized with a fit. My eyes tear up and even my abs get a workout. It's wonderful. Last night, as I was drifting off to sleep, I started coughing like a fiend and my throat got sooooooooooooooooo dry. Ever cough so bad you start to choke? Well, that was me. So I got out of bed, drank a glass of water and sat on my couch watching an episode of Roseanne on Nick at Nite while sucking on a Ricola. It was one of the early episodes where Dan had a head of curls more lustrous and springy than mine.

I went back to work today but as I sit here congested up to my eyeballs, coughing my brains out and again, sucking on a Ricola, I'm thinking it was a bad idea. I've become the annoying noisy cubicle mate now. Hey, it could be worse... I could be farting up a storm. I'm pleased to report that I'm not. Even if I was, I certainly wouldn't tell YOU. Oh, the shame. I'm from the same school of thought as the mother of my childhood friend, Arnold: "Girls don't fart, they squeak."

Um, okay... random tangent alert: I was just offered a job. I literally just got off the phone. I'm being poached from within. Wow. I was having a crappy week. Things just took an upturn. Gotta go!

we interrupt our regularly scheduled programming

... To bring you my latest "where I've been" excuse: My allergies are beastly these days. This is an approximation of what I look like:

I'll be back when my eyes don't feel like they're going to dry up and fall out.

Thank you.

change of plans

You know, I've been pretty adamant about stating that I don't want to have children of my own. However, after seeing this clip, I think I may have changed my mind. What better benefit to having kids than being able to fuck with them?

Click here to view.

happiness is...

Walking home from work over the Brooklyn Bridge with Irene Cara's "What a Feeling (Flashdance)" providing the soundtrack on my iPod and then suddenly erupting into laughter -- startling tourists, joggers and cyclists alike -- after remembering my friend's father's erroneous take on the lyrics: "Take your pants down and make it happen."

Ah, good times.