Tuesday, March 23, 2010

My Least Favorite Things.

Sunday, while trying to drive somewhere, I became trapped.  Trapped and scared and sweaty and then hungry and then angry and then sad.  I had to deal with all these emotions while alone in my car.  Who did this to me?  Why would they let people make another person feel this way?  How can I deal with these feelings?  How do I go on?

I'll tell you the source of my unrest and discontent.  The Los Angeles Marathon.  Now, marathons combine my two least favorite things - large groups of stupid people and running for no reason.  Here's what these morons did -
They ran from Dodger stadium to the beach in Santa Monica.  And no, I can't even really get on board with marathons when they're for a specific cause, or even a good specific cause.  And this stupid thing had no direction and just had "charity" involved.  And most of the people running in this, I'm sure, couldn't give two hairy figs about charity.  Nobody finished and was like "I've done my part for the American Pacific Legal Center!  My, how satisfying!"  I seriously doubt it.

And joggers, another ridiculous breed, run all the time for no reason without blocking off streets.  So, while jogging and joggers are some of least favorite things - marathons really take a cake.  And I won't even begin to argue with you if you tell me it's good exercise.  There are plenty of things that are good exercise that are to a good end - like walking upstairs.  You can't get upstairs unless you walk up them!  That's a great exercise!  And, sure, I like dumb exercises like using a video to dance around in my bedroom to music that almost sounds like actual pop music but isn't actually real music people listen to - but I'm not pretending this is smart!  It's not.  

But guess what -  I'm not stopping traffic.  I'm not pretending it's serious.  And I'm certainly not doing it in public, forcing other people to see me in some inappropriate outfit.  YET.

Sunday, March 21, 2010

water otter farter

I hate water. But this bottle is CUTE.   Like Playmobil.  So maybe I will learn to love it.

And it has a filter.  And if filters are good enough for aquariums, they're good enough for me.  If I was one who might dwell in an aquarium I would need a tiny castle and a tiny treasure chest.  I might be a regular old goldfish, but I wouldn't submit to death so easily as my past goldfish did.  Because I'd value my life and my castle.  And I would need to protect my treasure chest from whoever was watching me swim around and around all the live long day.  Or perhaps I'd be an otter in an aquarium people go to and then the people go to the aquarium gift shop store to buy a likeness of me because I am so darned cute.

BRIEF CUTE ANIMAL REPORT IN BRIEF PICTORIAL

I wish this next video were higher quality.  Because it includes so many things of high quality.

Monday, March 15, 2010

birds and bees

This is sort of gross. Yet educational. And it looks just as darn tooting entertaining as all get out. It's National Geographic.


Speaking of INSECTS. I made this.
Out of threads and linens!!!! And a fat needle! And my hands that are like gnarled trees! Speaking of bees, there was an angry beehive right outside my window for a long time. I would find dead bees in my bathroom. It would be bad enough to find one bee, but once I discovered 9 or so corpses in my bee graveyard, and that is more than enough. It was more than I could bare. A man was called to eradicate the bees and until today I thought the deed had been done and the bees had been done in and all was done and gone. But, no! I was out in the backyard, playing with my blonde hog of a tiny furry dog and what do I hear but a buzzing coming from the trees! Now, in my experience, trees aren't meant to buzz - at least not loudly enough for people to hear! So I creep closer than my comfort lets me and I see bees! In the flowers of the trees! Thank god not in my gnarled tree hands, but still - in the flowers on my tree! I didn't say they should move from in between the walls of bedroom and the outdoors to a tree. I didn't say it at all! So I hightailed it back indoors, scared for my doghog and myself.

COMING SOON
I love arts and farts and crafts, but not necessarily in that order. As you can see I craft things like that bee above. That above bee. So I will share a craft with you!! OR. If anyone cares to weigh in on what you want to see - LOOK BELOW THIS NOW
video
and if you don't give a flying fig I'll just do what I want!! Otherwise, feel free to leave a comment or call my personal car phone. In one I'm wearing a lot of lipstick, some might say too much. In the other I'm wearing a lot of lipstick and I'm acting like a cat. So make the most important decision of my life for me. Or I'll have to flush it down the toilet at prom.

Saturday, March 13, 2010

GET ANSWERS FAST!

This seems like fun.  So it MUST be dangerous!!  Or maybe stupid.  Maybe both.  Ask me a question!!!!!!  I can answer you!!!!!!  I even might answer you!!!!!!!

Tuesday, March 9, 2010

sheer terrors

Tiny bugs terrify me.  Large bugs terrify me.  Butterflies terrify me.  Oh, dear stars in heaven.  I just tried to brave my terror to find a picture of a pretty butterfly.  It was too much for my weak heart.  Here is a kind of butterfly I like and love - a bread-and-butterfly
These were always adorable.  What was not adorable was the large and horrifying insect that drove me from my bedroom the other night.  It was tiny yet enormous.  And people shouldn't tell me not to be scared of such small things.  People are afraid of smaller things all the time!  Like their imaginations!  Or an army of super-tiny babies who can all crawl.  Just imagine hundreds of them.  That creeps me out just thinking about it.  Or ghosts - they don't even have a size since they're immaterial and you can't measure immateriality!  Anyway.  The point is - I always really liked the bread-and-butterflies.

You know who's a cool lady???  I DO.  Mary Blair.  She did a lot of concept art for Disney things, including the thing from which the bread-and-butterflies sprang.

There's even a book about her!

You know you've made it if someone's written a book about you.  I don't think it counts if you write a book about yourself...maybe if you used a pseudonym.  It would have to be a pretty fantastic book if you hadn't actually done anything book-worthy yet.  Although, I guess if what you do is drawing or painting or some junk you would stuff that in there and not need as much writing to fill the book up.  Or if you're a chef or a cook or you make food that would be mostly pictures and recipes, even if you weren't the one writing it.  People are pretty lazy.  So, if you really want to make someone work, you should probably make music.  Since unless they stick the sheet music in there they'd have a LOT to do.  Even if you made movies people would take the stills and fill the book with that!  Or you could something political or humanitarian or some dumb garbage - but that's a lot of work for you.  And that's not what having someone write a book about you is about.  If you wrote a book about yourself, though, you could do whatever you want.  If you do everything for yourself you could do whatever you want.  Except for those things like flying and that sort of thing.

Anyway.  Look what Amazon recommended for me:
I can imagine why.  What I cannot imagine is why this woman is exercising while topless.  That cannot possibly be comfortable.  Did she just put on the tiny pants and then just decided that it felt right to stop there?  Less is more?  And her hair is down.  I find it horrible to exercise with my hair down.  And even more horrible to be topless at the same time.  At that point why not just go naked?  That seems like a more logical thing to do.  There was an ad on craigslist for a naked yoga instructor after all.  Well, for men.  I mean a man for men.  I mean it was for a gay naked yoga studio.  Naked exercise just seems like a dangerous idea.

I do exercise tapes by this crazy lady -
Who poses on wacky carpets!  With children!
And wears denim vests and sheer tights and practically no pants while holding ballet barres!
But it's only because Gwyneth Paltrow told me to!  Look how gigantic she is!  Who wouldn't she terrify?  Behemoth.  
Well.  Orpah kind of told me to do it more.  When Gwyhemoth was on Orpah.
That's not right!!  I don't care how much Orpah laughed it's not right!  Gwyhemoth shouldn't say poo.  Or boobs.  Rude, Gwyhemoth, rude.
That's the one!!

NOTE - If you want to get on Oprah, be a rapping Gwyneth Paltrow or an exercising one.
HOT TIP - Get off your fat butt and exercise or make a rap!  I do both at the same time!  Minus the fat part.  Also, win an Oscar and marry a famous musician and have babies and name that after foods and bibles.  I'm naming my kids Wienerschnitzel and King James Version.  



Wednesday, March 3, 2010

making friends through pie

Carl Sagan on pie!
Pie on a stick!

Pie made of knit!

Pie in the face, Bill Gates!
Pies are a great way to make friends.  Who wouldn't be your friend if you gave them a pie?  Nobody, that's who!  This is not to say that you should carry around at-the-ready pies, though if you could figure out a way to do this with fresh pie and keep it hot and crumbly and gooey and not soggy and lukewarm and unfriendly, I'd have a go.  Never use a ready-made crust!  They're really easy to make!  You nincompoops!  To make friends, always be talking about pie.  If you do, chances are great that someone nearby will interject with an, "OH, I LOVE PIE" or "LET'S MAKE PIE" or "HAVE YOU HAD THIS PIE AT THAT PLACE??" or "PIE?  OH, BARF - I'M MORE OF A TART-MAN."  If the person's interjection is the last one - NEXT!  Back of the line, pal!  Out of the ballpark, hot dog!  Mud in your eye, apple pie!  But never call someone you dislike an apple pie.

NOTE - If you're going to hit someone in the face with a pie, make sure it's a cream one.
HOT TIP - If you're going to hit someone you truly dislike in the face with a pie, make sure it's a fresh hot one with pointed fruits inside.

What's a pointed fruit, you ask?  Why, a pointed fruit is a pointed question to be asked on a pointless night with points of light all above in the pointy, pointy sky.