game night

John Wayne had some shockers too, though in one memorable game he won Lassie from the canine star's desperate owner.

I mixed several of these together last night and called it the Spirit of Montecore.

Fun with Christmas gifts. Or maybe birthday, I can’t remember when I got this...

Match the celebrity with their stank –

1. Prince
2. Christina Aguilera
3. Sean Combs
4. Shania Twain
5. Mariah Carey
6. Celine Dion
7. Kylie Minogue
8. Paris Hilton
9. Derek Jeter
10. Sarah Jessica Equineface
11. Naomi Campbell


a. Spring in Paris
b. Starlight
c. Cat Deluxe
d. Driven
e. Can Can
f. M
g. Covet
h. Unforgivable Woman
i. 3121
j. Sweet Darling
k. Simply Christina Aguilera


See AM for the answers since she's the one with nothing to do.

morning after pill

oh my god am I grouchy. The cold, people. The cold from hell. Who made me this ill? I demand to speak to someone about this.

Besides that, I have no reason to be such an ass today. Let's consider:

the list of Christmas excess, gifted to me by my husband, who (lovingly) believes me to be a 14 year old boy:

- one Wii. I am terrible at tennis and awesome at boxing and will never leave my basement again. Every member of the family, from great-aunts to small children, have now beaten me in tennis. Fuck.
- one set of Heelys. I fit into a youth large. I am going to HAUNT THE NEIGHBORHOOD WITH MY AWESOMENESS! Also, malls.
- one Hudson University Volleyball sweatshirt.
- some other stuff, like "30 rock" on dvd and a book about how to read what my dog is thinking (it's one page long and says: "NOTHING. HAHAHAHAHA.")

So, I'm still in love.

Also my Mom gave me a truckload of new underwear and the advice to start acting like a grownup.

Merry Jesus Birthday to all.

life and death in rosslyn

I thought it appropriate that I saw this story linked on DCist tonight, on my parents 36th wedding anniversary.

They had 6 people at their reception at TSOH, and according my my mother, ("they had a salad bar! It was really classy!") the two crazy kids danced to the Carpenter's "We've Only Just Begun" around the restaurant floor.

My father couldn't be reached for comment. Except, of course, to say like he does every year on their anniversary: "I had to leave a pickup basketball game to make it to the wedding on time. I left the teams uneven. Boy, those guys were pissed."

nerd accessories for the hopeless retards in your life

DoS Special Holiday Edition, courtesy Mr. Hunter and the Bragg Boys.

Because, honestly, everything is a competition: Part II

There’s a book that I’ve wanted to get someone for Christmas and only found it today by accident at Borders. There is only one copy left but the lunchtime line was mammoth and I didn’t have my 30% off coupon with me. So I’ve hidden it. This book has nothing to with Japanese manga but it’s living right now next to novels about Sailor Moon or some bullshit.

I’m headed over there right now to rescue it. You know, just in case you wanted to be a ruiner and go move it. Way to ruin Christmas, ruiner.

The Borders at 18th and L.*

I’ll race you.



Go.




Update: You lose slowpokes!



*can we all pretty much agree at this point that no offices or buildings anywhere on L Street are hiring union carpenters? Two protests in two blocks this morning?

Wintry Mix 07

Making playlists at work, instead of working.

I have not seen "Assassination on Xmas Eve" by Archers of Loaf on anyones list? People? Come on?

come on back and see me when you can

while i... appreciate... the OR attempt* at covering "Do What Ya Gotta Do," there is nothing quite like the original when it comes to Miz Simone, non? Who doesn't act frantic along with "Sinnerman" and all that crap on the car stereo occasionally. Admit it.


* Do not appreciate the Meg Baird attempt tho. No, I don't.

brains brains brains

The only thing I know about this whole mortgage and foreclosure problem is that we got a 30 year fixed with a great rate. That, and we will never be able to sell our house.

But with terms like “predatory lending” and something about “ARMs”, I can only assume that the changes to Regulation Z that the Fed has agreed to consider are restrictions on the sale of homes to zombies or at least to the illegal zombie hordes crossing our borders.

I salute Chairman Bernanke for addressing this complex yet vital problem facing our nation and Avent's delicious brains.

gimme more

1) I slept on the Caribou release this year? Even though at one point in my life, "jacknuggeted" (back-in-Manitoba-days) was one of my favorite songs ever, at least for that year? Should I remedy this? I've only listened half-heartedly thus far.

2) Totally forgot to mention the Cribs earlier.

3) I cannot believe I am listening to Lavendar Diamond as much as I am lately. It's brainblowing, and must say something about the state of mind 'round here. Joanna Newsom and Sheryl Crow, what????????

in other news, i got my hair colored yesterday, so there's that. also i am done with my holiday shopping. hey, congratulations cousins, you are getting a weird Starbucks mail-order shrink wrapped gift basket i pilfered from work. as the guy at marvelous market told me this morning, merry seasoning!

Seriously, they looked more like zombie sea cucumbers than zombie humans

My opinion leans more toward disappointment than dislike. Go ahead and put me in the group with the girls.

The unease that zombies elicit in our psyche is based on their resemblance to “normal” humans, if you will. This movie lacked that. If I’m going to zombie movie I want to feel uncomfortable because of the zombies. Not because I’m afraid of the dark or hairless rats or because someone in the audience yells “WILL SMITH DON’T HUG THAT DOG!!1!”

I read a study (which I can’t find online anymore after a morning’s worth of searching) a few years back where participants were asked to record their levels of discomfort while watching videos of people acting in “unconventional” ways. It included people with physical and mental disabilities as well as some dressed in frightening costumes like, animated puppets, aliens, robots and zombies.

Responders were second most uncomfortable watching people who moved and acted like your typical Night of the Living Dead zombie. The more like a human the example acted, the more anxiety the viewer felt. Robots, aliens, etc were all less scary.

(Surprisingly to the researchers, the responders were most uncomfortable watching people suffering from mid-range mental retardation.)

This was one of the problems I had with the I Am Legend villains. I may be mistaken, but I believe there were only two non-CGI zombies in the entire movie and they all looked and moved unconvincingly as a result. The filmmakers would have been better served using at least a few more actors in makeup or prosthetics - especially if the main zombie was at least able to do something other than scream, dislocate his jaw and throw his body against plexiglass without sustaining injury. (I assume this zombie, who appeared bigger and stronger than any of the other ones, and lived in New York City, was an infected Jeremy Shockey.) This problem was avoided in the first half of the film by keeping most of the CGI zombies in the dark, feeding on a dead deer or masturbating or whatever they were doing in that first scene.

The movie had other faults too, including a plot hole so big that it pretty much nullified everything that happens before and after the supposed twist. But the weak-sauce zombies is what really kinda ruined it.

Highlight for the spoiler:

How did Anna and the boy get to Manhattan if the whole island was quarantined, all bridge destroyed and all tunnels flooded?

lve story

been in DC a while? to read.

ought seven

I'm not doing a Year End Music Roundup Xplosion 2007 Etc because you can go anywhere on the web and find a better one, probably. Also, it would look just like everyone else's attempts. Except for you know, R Kelly and Lil Mama inclusions.

I will tell you I did love Band of Horses & Spoon & Okkervil River, a given. And this:

The G: i did not jerk off to the National like everyone else did this year though
Amanda: yeah me neither!

Okay, one more thing: The Dirty Projectors "Rise Above?" Love it hard. Oh man.

WE ARE POPULAR

When the going gets hard, the hardheaded shut down. Faced with an overwhelming amount of invites this weekend, us Pygs decided to spend two straight days watching Top Chef and not showering or leaving the house, except to play football (male) or got to Target to buy cake mix* (female.)

Errrr, not totally true. We also went out to dinner Friday with old friends and their + 1, where we ate Chinese fusion and talked about all the germaphobes we knew; and then had a lovely date Saturday night where 1., I had several drinks and a delicious appetizer and wondered why we don't hang out at No.9 Lounge more often because it's charming and never crowded and they played Aqueduct and Arcade Fire while we were there and 2. I wore leggings and dangly earrings. It was a weird night, people.

I only thought once longingly about how we missed a Very Merry Washington Social Christmas and G.p. wailing on the sax. D'oh.




* It's both Male Pyg and this one's birthday's today. FYI.

hells yeah, Randy Newman!

Hey world:
Merry Holidays. Go download Golden Opportunities. It's free, and you're welcome for the head's up.

He also killed hundreds of Italian-Americans dressed up to look like Native Americans. Or so I remember.

We’re going to dinner at BD Wong’s in Tyson’s tonight with a friend of the G’s and her boyfriend. She was in our wedding and the G was in hers before that marriage exploded into alcoholism or crippling debt or an addiction to porn or whatever causes divorces after 13 bliss-less months for 26-year-olds. (None of those are jokes. I may currently have more friends that are divorced than ones that are married.) Since we are not going straight home tonight, I took the dog to see my parents so he could hang out and not pee on the ugly indoor/outdoor carpeting we have in our basement.

My mom reports that about 10 minutes after I left, our idiot hound and their equally stupid dog started howling to no end in the backyard. She’s been sick and was not in the mood to deal with the nonsense so she sent my dad in his bathrobe out to investigate. When he came back, they were still barking but instead of explaining what the deal was he went searching for his camera. Such is his way.

He once carried a cicada around in his pocket.

Turns out, our dog had treed a raccoon and the two of them figured that if they yelled at it long enough it would fall off the branch and into their mouths. My dad gave up on the camera, got the leashes and dragged them inside, where they barked for another 40 minutes until the raccoon left. The dogs have spent the rest of the day running around outside, retelling the story to each other like two middle school kids re-enacting Die Hard at the bus stop.

Of course, my natural reaction to this story was why didn’t my dad kill the raccoon and make a hat out of it like Davy Crockett. He argued that 1) it could have been rabid like the City Paper says and (2 that would be insane. I argued that not having a coon skin hat is insane and he should know because he grew on a farm in the 50s and everyone had crazy hats. He didn’t buy it.

The hat conversation got me thinking about Davy Crockett for maybe the first time in 20 years. The D and I watched hours of the Disney version when we were kids but the only part I can remember is that he killed a bear when he was three and he was a crazy trick shooter. The toddler bear killer story I can understand. Maybe he stepped on a gun or the bear fell on a pointed stick that Crockett was carrying around.

But the trick shot part doesn’t seem to hold up to closer deliberation. The tale, as I remember it, was that he was surrounded by a bobcat and bear who both wanted to get him but he only had one bullet. So he shot a boulder and it split the bullet in half and killed both animals in their heads.

I don’t think that that could happen.

Why would a bear and a bobcat team up to attack a human? It doesn’t make any sense.

sorry chenowith, you lose.

i've officially given up on Pushing Daisies. I watched it twice (okay, actually: An episode. And a half. Maybe. Then I got up and ate fruit snacks and copied stuff and other important work things) and then I realized my tolerance for preciousness is already spent on thinking about how my dog almost killed a raccoon this morning. Awwwwwwww.

You might be a redneck if you keep an ashtray in your pocket.

Honestly, considering the history of product endorsements, the idea that Jeff Foxworthy has his own brand of beef jerky isn’t that surprising. But our late night-trip to the grocery store last night got me thinking about some of the other odd combinations that we’ve stumbled across in the last little bit.



The classic example for the Pyggies is our college town’s very own Acme video store that also sold fireplaces and stoves. The G still has her membership card someplace. I only went in once and I seem to remember that the only movies they had were ones like The Money Pit and *batteries not included on VHS. Also, I think they only sold those fireplaces that I’ve only ever seen on the Price Is Right.



Number two was something I saw in Arizona or New Mexico or maybe Idaho that sold spine readjustments and carpets. On the day I drove by, rugs were on sale. I didn’t have time to go inside because somehow I knew that in two hours I was going to get monumentally lost and maybe spend the night in my rental car on a mountain with vampire bears and wolves that had scorpions for teeth.

Finally, is this gem:



I found it in a Sleazeburg – I MEAN LEESBURG! – Va gas station before we got our Christmas tree and poison ivy two weekends ago. Buying a keychain-shaped pig with a light-up snout was an obvious move. But knowing that, in a pinch, it could transform into an ashtray sealed the deal.




I figured I would save our lives several times over when we went camping last weekend but it broke after a single day in my pocket. I brought it to the cabin anyway and when we almost choked to death from smoke inhalation after a log rolled out of the fire and into the room, the G was able to use it to find her contacts. Subsequently, she did not wander blindly out of the cabin and fall on the serrated knives some people had thrown into woods.

Combination porcine ashtray/flashlight is worth its weight in gold.

hey ma ma ma ma: i am in yr closet, taking yr striped button down.

Thanks to Unfogged, I have a new style hero in Kate St. John. In 9th or 10th grade a kid named Casey asked "why I dressed like my mom" for some awards reception. I was pretty much wearing the outfit homegirl is sporting in the LIANT video. Minus the gloves, plus a headband.

And furthermore: suck it, Casey. I am still 1000% behind that look.

fire in the hole!

I started to brush my hair this morning and quickly realized that everything I owned that was in the cabin this weekend smells like burning. Including the brush. And now, my hair.* Again.









* Ha ha. Psych. I don't really ever brush my hair.

Puffin. It's what's for dinner.

I’m not saying you called me a liar but you pretty much did. Granted, sometime my yarns do require citing or follow-up research. Accordingly, here are the footnotes to the story I told to AM at a s’mores party last Friday.

1. Recipes for cooking and serving puffin.*

2. The band Vanilla Ninja which you can listen to here and here and ohmyjesus here and good god in a hot tube here and oh no don't stop the rock here.

3. The procedure for eating Ortolan (tiny birds that are captured alive, force fed grain, drowned in Armagnac, roasted whole and eaten, bones and all, while the diner drapes his head with a linen napkin to preserve the precious aromas and, as some believe, to hide the deed from God.)

4. Foreign countries that require their radio stations to play a certain percentage of songs by domestic artists.



*and the subsequent recipe for cooking whale.

"He’s master of a universe that he’s created for himself.”

Meet the most obnoxious kid parents in the universe.

The bag is filled with honey and picnic baskets

Congratulations, Google.

For the first time in the 3 years I've been using Gmail, they’ve finally put an ad at the top of the screen that was somewhat related to any email I have ever sent or received. In fact, it even had something to do with an email I had just read.

See if you can guess what the email was about.



Man, I could watch bears trying to tear shit up all day.

they call me the cautionary whale!

Juno is pretty okay and all, if you want to go see a totally not-life-changing-movie about quirky midwestern teenagers with fast mouths. (See: Napolean Dynamite with less wacky Mormon Idahoans and more stereotypical earnest Minnesotans/sarcastic high schoolers.) Also, we got free "Paulie Bleeker is Totally Boss" teeshirts. Bonus, since I was needing new dumb teeshirts.

I would write more here about it but there is nothing else to say.

In a nutshell: cutesy as hells (coming dangerously close to too twee); one exceptionally uncomfortable Jennifer Garner character who is just... ugh; some funny dialogue involving discarded living room sets; a great soundtrack; a small discussion about what to name the baby that made me howl out loud even thought no one else in the theater was laughing; a bit of dialogue about Sonic Youth/the Carpenters which is just totally off base (no one's favorite song is the one they mention. Trust me); and, like most/all teenage-preggers-movies, a movie plot not even CLOSE to being realistic. So if you want to go see a movie that will not make you think at all, here you go.

Unless yr talking about Allison Janney, who is totally realistic and my favorite character, and not just because she shockingly resembles my mom.

more of the same here.

Grande Eggnog, hold the nog

The radio said today that Starbucks has started selling their holiday flavors: eggnog latte, peppermint mocha, gingerbread latte.*

This move prompted one of several yearly arguments in our car about another one of their other festive drinks: White Hot Chocolate. I was duped into getting one of these after the particularly cold time traveling adventure a few years ago.

My issue: This is not WHITE hot chocolate. It is HOT white chocolate. To me, the name white hot chocolate indicates that the beverage is so hot you could dip iron horseshoes into it and they would evaporate into nihility.

Of course, everyone in the car disagrees with me.

*I don’t drink coffee so I don’t know what any of that means. This is not a boast like those people who claim/brag that they don’t watch TV. I just never learned how to do coffee. Those no-TV jerks deserve repeated crotch pummels.

Like an orange on a toothpick

I went to school with two kids who had extremely large heads.

The first guy had a melon that was proportional to his equally large body. His football helmet was a special order. When we were sized for graduation, the paper tape measure used for his cap size didn’t even reach all the way around his head. They gave him the largest size available but it still looked like a square, powder-blue, cardboard yarmulke. He was commonly known as Pumpkinhead Jones and while he certainly didn’t rejoice in the name he did little to stop its application. He was widely liked by the general student body.

The second guy had an equally humongous coconut but his body was of a normal (if not under-developed) size. He was widely disliked by the general student body.

As a trade-off to for this Barry Bonds-like affliction, God blessed him with a high IQ and powerful inner drive. Class President, Mensa member, head of Model UN, were some of the results. And like Barry Bonds, he was also a giant douche-bag.

This doucehery came to, uh, “a head” the summer after I graduated but while the D was entering her junior year. Several of the more attractive girls from the incoming senior class received letters from “prestigious modeling agency” claiming to be impressed by their good looks. They could easily secure high-priced contracts if they simply sent photos of themselves in underwear or bathing suits to the address provided.

Naturally, most of these girls saw through the classic Wyatt Donnelly Hustle and someone’s parents called the police. The address belonged to giant-head’s grandmother and the dots were easily connected. There were threats of criminal charges including, unbelievably, federal mail fraud but in the end the kid’s father had the whole affair swept under the rug or his giant pillow.

I guess it worked out because according to the D:

He went to either Yale or Harvard and sang in one of those a cappella groups that do the Martha Stuart xmas show.

The previous sentence should dispel any doubts to my claims to his douchiness. She came to this knowledge after she found out her class had its ten year reunion last week and she was not invited. The guy was supposed to be in charge of planning the event but didn’t. Instead, a few kids got together at a local bard and toasted his swollen head. She’s hoping to catch up with some of the participants this week to find out what else has happened to he classmates.

Either way, it won’t be as impressive as the kid from my class who invented Skinny Cow Ice Cream. That’s right, he invents ice cream for a living. And he’s better at it than you are at your job.

kenny. for real, his name is kenny. i'm not even making that up.

Is there anything more sad in the galaxy than a retarded tiger named Kenny?

On second thought, do not answer that.