Better'n a frontal lobotomy.

I saw this over at P.'s house and thought it brilliant.

I know lots of people who could have used this in their twenties.
(To say nothing of their early thirties. Or their mid-thirties, even.)

And speaking of badass...

I want to hug this woman for having the moxie to pull this off.
Attitude really is everything.

Deep red lips, ridiculous earrings and contact lenses instead of glasses would finish the look for me, femme it up and increase the masculine/feminine tension. Then again I wouldn't have the sand [my new "thing" is talking like Bill the Butcher, let me know if it's working, okay?] to wear this. Or maybe instead of "sand" I mean "length and svelteness." Anyway, swoon. Love it. Since leaving the world of executive drag (to borrow from the inimitable Communicatrix), I am very easily excited by crazy-amazing outfits. Swoon, swoon.


(Image via The Sartorialist, naturally.)

Last-minute gift idea

...in case you've not yet come up with one for me.
I'd really really love it if you could knit this in my size. Isn't it gorge?
No rush, it doesn't have to be done by tomorrow. Maybe by New Year's Eve, though?

The envelope, please...

Hugh Jackman will be hosting the Oscars. Good night, people, if you thought I was an obnoxious Oscar dork the last twenty years, boy are you in for a treat come 2009. I am imagining many costume changes... lots of different Wolverine outfits, interspersed with Australian Cowboy outfits. I will probably also imagine that he is speaking directly to me the entire evening. And offering me cake. And wine. And roses!

Top Twenty-Five Guilty Pleasures (Part One of Two)

(I considered doing a top five, but that wasn't enough; long story short, the numbers increased in multiples of five and I finally capped it at 25. Ahem. Thank you. Oh, also: these are only numbered for purposes of identification, and not in any way meant to indicate a hierarchy.)

1. 13 Going On 30. I ain't proud, but I ain't ashamed, neither.

2. Kraft Singles. American Pasteurized Processed Cheese Product. There's a tirade I pull from my repertoire when H. brings this home, for obviously its nutritional value is nil, possibly even less than that. Bravely--bravely--do I save my son from its destruction by eating it all myself.

3. The Whole Foods store-brand hot chocolate. I am crazy about it! No other hot chocolate compares. Seriously! It strikes the perfect balance between chocolatey, milky and sweet, it's better than the MarieBelle stuff and it comes in a brown paper envelope. I ask you, friend, what else can you purchase at $3.49 a box that produces such joy? Humbly, I submit: THERE IS NOTHING.

4. O The Oprah Magazine [you may recall that I recently outed myself on this point]

5. Hostess lemon pies. Disgusting? Delicious? Oh, why not both!


6. Garth Brooks' Friends In Low Places -- I can sing it for you, if you like. Which do you prefer, the studio version or the live one?

7. Clueless. Anytime you'd like for me to recite it, just ask!

8. The Spice Girls' Say You'll Be There. Trixie Firecracker! Ahahaha.

9. Billy Joel. Oh my, yes. In particular, Piano Man, Big Shot and Pressure.

10. Labyrinth. Back in the days of Lulu (my now-defunct online magazine for teen girls), I published an in-depth analysis of this movie as a primer for growing up female. STOP LAUGHING. I stand by this analysis even now, but as I'm in the middle of admitting a bunch of embarrassing things to the internet, you'll please forgive me for feeling a bit too vulnerable to go into that diatribe. Oh, just watch it. You won't be sorry.

Better than Black Friday shopping

Oh, don't go out there, into the shopping fray. It's ugly. Instead, gaze upon this lovely photo I found of Matt Berninger, dreamy vocalist from The National.



You're welcome. Now go and listen to Brainy and Fake Empire. And have a go at Lucky You as well.

And have your fainting couch ready.

Although everyone knows they wouldn't really say "flip flops."

Can't wait, can't wait, can't wait!

(Bret talks so dreamy.)

(Makes me very uncomfortable.)
(VERY.)

(Brilliant.)

(PS, I'm not even embarrassed at having shamelessly lifted this entire blog post, save the bits in parens, from H's blog.)

Top Seven Niche Business Ideas

Some people may think it foolish to consider a niche business idea in this economy; however I am confident that once I present these concepts--some provide a service; some are stores--to the right investors, backing will come with no delay. Read on, you Doubting Thomases!

1. Cookies For Adorable Children, Smartly-Turned-Out Ladies and Gallant Gentlemen
2. Wonderful Hats For Your Every Whimsy! [The exclamation point is part of the name.]
3. Your First Name Followed By His Last Name On Nice Stock In A Chic Font
4. Flowers and Cakes, Hand-Delivered by Your Choice of Wolverine, Edward Cullen, and/or Captain Jack Sparrow
5. Jarvis Cocker Says Your Name Five Times, Slowly: Your Personal Ringtone
6. Feathers, Tea Sets, Leather Jackets and Cupcakes for a Certain Type of Lady
7. Things You'd Buy Me If You Really Liked Me

I've changed my mind, bub.

[Please note: super-squealy, girly post to follow. It may make you queasy and/or annoyed! You have been warned.]

I have often said that it's not so much Hugh Jackman I find terrifically irresistable as it is Wolverine. AS OF TODAY, THAT CEASES BEING TRUE. Why, you are in all likelihood asking yourself? A couple of reasons.

Reason one.
Reason two.

Of course as we all know there is no such thing as a free lunch.
The first two shots in that set are, um, here and here.

My beloved made sure to email them to me, letting me know not to worry, because although he had been snipered, Wolverine does have regenerative powers. Do you see what I deal with here?

Anyway, wow. And WOW. And: yay!

Thank you, and good night, Internet. Happy weekend.

Kiwi Kuties

I just can't take this much adorable.*


*But will offer no objection if they should need a place to stay whilst in the South Bay!, she hastily adds.

Official Correspondence From the Dept. of Adorable

Oh man, I am prettttty sure I need these...

From the delightful 16 Sparrows.

I can totally deal with this.

Turns out, I am*...

Carole Lombard
You scored 19% grit, 14% wit, 43% flair, and 43% class!

You're a little bit of a fruitcake, but you always act out in style. You have a good sense of humor, are game for almost anything, but you like to have nice things about you and are attracted to the high life. You're stylish and modern, but you've got a few rough edges that keep you from attaining true sophistication. Your leading men include William Powell, Fredric March, and Clark Gable. Watch out for small planes.

This makes perfect sense, since H's results said that he is Clark Gable. Here we are enjoying his favorite snack:





*And it's obviously true, because OKCupid said so.

Observations Before, During and After Tonight's Nick Cave Show

(At the Hollywood Bowl.)
(Cat Power and Spiritualized were the openers.)

BEFORE
1. In the car on the way to the shuttle pick-up point: OMG! OMG! OMG!
2. On the shuttle: I haven't been this excited since the Crowded House show. Er... better not say that one out loud.
3. On the shuttle: OMG! OMG! OMG!

DURING
1. I really like Cat Power; why is this live set so terrible?
2. Why is Cat Power dancing like a very very old man?
3. Cat Power sang one song, with intermissions, for her entire set. That includes the handful of covers she did, too.
4. Spiritualized... pretty cool. Oh... no, not cool, but not bad. Hang on... oh no, I think the bulk of the lyrics for this song are "Good dope, good times." Really? When are they finished?
5. Cave!
6. CAVECAVECAVE.
7. He is fifty years old, is dressed like a wealthy pimp, has terrible hair, and I think I love him.
8. Warren Ellis: Most Terrifying Man on Earth? [Decide for yourself. He's on the far right.]
9. Warren Ellis playing the violin in a strangely violent way and ending his part with a massive, dramatic flourish: I may have just wet my pants with fear.

[Speaking of whom, H told me at the show that the other Warren Ellis, the comic book writer, has been known to mention when interviewed that if one Googles him, one shouldn't be frightened of the pictures, as that is Warren Ellis the musician. True story.]

10. I don't walk very well in these spike-heeled booties. But a couple of glasses of wine and Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds make dancing and jumping possible! (Actually they even made the Stagger Lee dance possible. Fancy that!)

11. The Ship Song. Thank you.

AFTER
1. There are some really old people here! Not like, "Wow, that lady is my parents' age" old -- I mean like, "Shouldn't you be in bed with a glass of warm milk and OMG I hope you didn't hear all that swearing during that last act!" old. Even older than the bluehairs at the Crowded House show. What gives? Are they cool, or am I lame?

Oh, Internet, I was so happy for this show. And it did not disappoint.
And now, to bed.

If you've been trying for years, then we already heard your song

I stumbled across this quote in some high-concept fashion magazine I was leafing through (okay, I'll be straight with you) poring over the other day while waiting for my hair appointment. Brought to you by fashiony fellow (and head of Yves Saint-Laurent) Stefano Pilati, it is as follows:

The last outpost of punk is to accept the situation and work within it individualistically, rather than complain and consider no solution except annihilation.

To be honest, it's been awhile since I've given any serious thought to this type of musing over something so besides the point as clothing, though I do find clothing and its language fascinating, and will admit to agonizing over the silhouette/message/frisson of anything I happen to be wearing.

I totally heard you think that terrible word about me just now as you read that. But that's okay, I understand, under the circumstances.

In any case, I got to thinking about that statement (as I was sitting in a trés chi-chi hair salon in the Hollywood Riviera* anyway, I figured why not?).

Is that really the last outpost of punk? So far as I know, punk died a long time ago, nearly as soon as its voice was heard. Its mission was, if you'll pardon the expression, to shock and awe; it did so, and then it wasn't shocking anymore. So whatever still looks and sounds like punk is a tribute, to put it kindly. Adolescents scream and yell to be heard, and then they are heard, and then they grow up. Or anyway, that's the way it's supposed to work. It's the only logical step; the natural progression of maturity.

Of course fashion is absurd all on its own, yes -- but Pilati's statement struck me as particularly obtuse. No one, save a few of my middle-school aged neighbors, thinks punk is still a thing. And even those of us who were (ahem) paying tribute ten years too late, in our early, awkward, tentative steps to catch up with our future selves, are now in our thirties. So what we're left with is something spoken by a man old enough to know better, saying something obvious about growing up and perhaps attempting to excuse the inevitable softening of his own life. Which is happening, will happen, has happened, to us all. All in a giant pull-quote splashed across a spread several pages long.

Up next: No Santa Claus, grass is green, and drinking water is good for you. I mean, really. Meanwhile, people starve. How thoroughly out of touch can a person be?

But, but, but... I know that I will continue to read these silly rags, because they make me feel like I am twelve years old again, planning my next haircut and next pair of Doc Marten's. It's lovely to take thirty minutes and have a vacation from reality. It's a nice place to visit. I just couldn't forgive myself if I lived there.


*Given that Redondo Beach is a good 25 miles from Hollywood, this nickname strikes me as absurd.

Wordle it be today?

Oof, sorry about that title. But I'm slightly obsessed with Wordle right now.
Here is one of the things I've made with it.