February 2009

I have too much free time! But this cracked me up and was a ton o’ fun. And made me want to start a band. Who’s coming with me!?

1 – Go to “wikipedia.” Hit “random” or click http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Special:Random The first random wikipedia article you get is the name of your band.

2 – Go to “Random quotations” or click http://www.quotationspage.com/random.php3 The last four or five words of the very last quote of the page is the title of your first album.

3 – Go to flickr and click on “explore the last seven days” or click http://www.flickr.com/explore/interesting/7days Third picture, no matter what it is, will be your album cover.

4 – Use photoshop or similar to put it all together.



A cooking magazine……FOR ZOMBIES!!!

And we call it….Zombistro.

Zombistro…..the cooking and lifestyle magazine for Zombies of the New Millenium.

And the best part is, the only recipies will be for BRAINS!!!


Greetings from about 15 minutes from where the Oscars are currently broadcasting live!!!

Keep in mind, this isn’t going to be an on-going thing. I’m just going to say it.

1. I love Hugh Jackman. The Craigslist dancers! It’s so campy! What is he doing with Anne Hathaway!? This is amazing!! 

2. I love Robert Downey Jr. I mean, he referred to his wife as “his date for the rest of this incarnation.”

3. Good luck to everyone. This should be an amusing broadcast.

Georgia Hardstark, I salute you! You are a genius among women. 

And Dlisted.com, thanks for pointing me in her glorious direction.

I could write about the AMAZING CREATION that is Georgia’s McNuggetini (you read it right) but I think the author does it best in her own words and pictures. I want one of these. Immediately. And yet, I don’t. Because I know how sick it will make me. But I’m willing to take the chance, just to say that I did.


I find it reassuring that the inventors of the McNuggetini are these really pretty, stylish women, rather than some frighteningly obese trash who just happened to throw vodka and barbeque sauce into the same cup as their chocolate shake.

So after reading Georgia’s very funny blog (you can find it on the page with the recipe) she linked me to yet ANOTHER culinary wonder, the chocolate whiskey and beer cupcakes. If you’re Irish, these would probably be called the “Boston Massacre Cupcakes” and if you live outside of the UK, then perhaps you’d call them “Car Bomb Cupcakes”. Either way, you have something that sounds both incredible and gross. I mean. Wow. I know what I’m making for my next birthday. Check it out.


1. Good news: so many of my friends are getting married! It is very exciting.

2. Good news: I found the dress I myself would like to get married in. And it’s CHEAP!

2. Bad news: Weddings are expensive and I have no money. Is giving a home-made wedding gift (you know, like a, uh, paper clip holder I made out of clay in fourth grade?) the worst ever? I know. Yes. It is. I’m just dreaming out loud. Damn these harsh economic times!

2. Bad news: I have no boyfriend, subsequently no fiance, and thus no wedding to wear said dress to.

3. Irrelevant news: I went to a writer’s group meeting today and it was quite nice. It’s good to be blown away by the talent of your peers every once in a while. Also, a good friend of mine is shortlisted for this big playwriting prize! We (anonymously) salute you!

I know I’m the last person in the known world to jump on this bandwagon, but let me just say this quickly.

Dear Chris Brown,

Hitting ladies is terrible. Even if you were enraged, take the high road.

Write if you get work.


(x= punch, o=kick)


I loved Queer Eye. I still adore Top Chef. I am even a closet Shear Genius fan. But The Millionaire Matchmaker…

Sorry I got distracted. I’m watching the new Knight Rider and this child actor guest starring is the most grating thing I’ve ever seen. Yikes. Oh KITT. I pine for you.

Anyway, Millionaire Matchmaker or as I shall call it, MM, is pretty much the worst aspects of men and women flaunted in glorious, botox-bloated, fake-tannery display. Sleazy men demand bimbos, and desperate women happily jettison career goals in order to “bag a rich husband.”

It really just makes me want to cry.

And the woman who runs it….I didn’t even bother learning her name. She bears a shocking resemblance to the WWF’s Chyna. She tells these women, these slightly mad women, that they need to wear tight, skimpy outfits (showing off both augmented breasts and well-toned legs) always have long, straight hair, never smoke, and generally just be creepy femme-bots (my phrase not hers).

Maybe I’m old fashioned. Or naive. Or both. I just thought it was our minds and personalities, our bad habits and wild hair that made us attractive to others.

Is this why I always date really lovely guys who just happen to be dirt poor?

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