Ew, Facebook. You're gross.

Some of the more annoying things about Facebook (aside from my inability to navigate its realms) (and the site's existence in the first place) are the ads that pop up along the right hand side of the page. Invisible Facebook gremlins have spied on my profile (I only wanted my 238 friends to see it!) and posted ads for products and services for which I am the targeted audience.

They've seen that I'm Status: Engaged (which sounds like warfare weapons lingo) and so have presented me with 200 different ads for wedding photographers and honeymoon destinations, etc.

But today they have crossed the line and entered WTF? territory.



Facebook Ad Gremlins, are you suggesting that my mattress contains pounds of...how do I say this... sex fluids? Really? Lingering from ex girlfriends. Really? Way to tap into unfounded paranoia.

Nice picture, btw. She's all, "Hope you like the cake, Darling. I'm so glad we're not rolling around in filth any more. Wheee!"

There's Something On Your Foot

I’ll never be one of those women who goes out and splurges on a pair of over the top, expensive shoes that she just HAS to have. I assure you, I have great taste in shoes, but at the same time, I operate with a hilariously limited shopping budget. I am aware of the brands Jimmy Choo, Christian Louboutin, and Manolo Blahnik, but I’d venture to say I’ve never even seen a pair in person. I also had to google those names to make sure I spelled them correctly. That’s how removed I am from the world of fashionable shoes. I rock flops out of necessity (and partially out of love).



But with an upcoming wedding to foolishly spend a fortune on, I decided now’s as good a time as any to look for a pair of shoes out of my usual $25 price range (I know, it makes me sad that I’m like that). So I ventured online to try to find some sandals to wear with my wedding dress. I’d originally planned to wear white flip flops, but then the thought of them making that thwack thwack thwack sound as I walked down the aisle made me cringe.

Now, because I shop for shoes so infrequently, I often find myself overwhelmed at the hideousness of the latest trends. I’ve written about this before, and I’m about to do it again.

Can I just ask one of you fashion-forward and hip young readers about this?



An exploded leather eggplant engulfs your ankle, while the rest of your foot is held in place by a meager strap. And then your big toe is especially secured in its own little holster.

This shoe also piqued my curiosity for the same reasons:




Why would you want your heels and toes to be at such extremely different temperatures than your ankles? I could almost get behind the overall look of this black one, but then I picture wearing it to work one day and constantly shoving a pen down into it to pull it away from my foot and give my smothered ankle a breath of fresh air.

But before you go thinking I’m just worried about overly-constrained, over-heated feet, let me tell you that I also worry about shoes with no form whatsoever. Like this:



See that little barstool thing at the front? That and the 3 yards of rope at the ankle are supposed to keep your foot in this thing. I’m sorry, but I would never be able to make it down the block without stepping out of this shoe and having it drag behind me.

It’s a problem that would never happen with this foot cage:



Which looks like some kind of punishment or a cobbler’s mold to make boots.

And then there’s this leg brace, which prompted me to say “Oh my God” outloud at my screen.



You know, I don’t care how cool you are, you simply cannot get away with wearing this and I might be mad at you for even trying.

And I’ll leave you with this garden lattice turned foot entombment.



The trusty ol’ flop isn’t looking so bad now, is it?

It Was Only A Matter of Time

Okay, yes, I've been gone for a while. After blogging for about a year and a half, a sort of fatigue set in and I didn't like the idea of going online and complaining about my own shortcomings yet again. I understand this is a common problem among us blogging types.

And then on Saturday, Kat from Pink India Ink called me out on my lack of recent postings, while also saying very nice things about me.

So I thought I better write something before everyone in the blogging world (I won't say "blogosphere") forgets who I am. Or maybe it's too late.

Let me tell you about this thing that happened to me last week that made me say, "Damn, I wish I was still blogging."

I split my pants.

I'll need to back up and explain something before this story makes complete sense. A few weeks ago, the company I work for moved into a new office. It's a big loft space with exposed bricks and hardwood floors and such. The upstairs area is, for some reason, divided into 3 large sections by 2 waist-high walls. And we've been told by the contractor and the property manager that if we were to cut openings into the walls for us to walk through, the whole building would collapse. No, really. We don't totally get how that's true, but whatever.

This means that if someone needs to talk to a coworker at his or her desk, and that coworker sits in a different section, one needs to clamber over a wall. As you can imagine, this leads to many awkward situations, especially if skirts, high heels, or an armful of papers is involved.

So now we get to last Friday night, and I needed to bring a presentation over to one of the creative directors. I threw one leg over the wall between us and then sort of did the splits until my foot landed on the other side, at which point I swung my other leg around. Then I threw my arms above my head in a V-shape, mimicking an Olympic gymnast. Impressive, I thought. Clearly I was getting good at this wall-jumping business.

After a brief chat with the aforementioned creative director, I walked back to the wall. Before leaping over, I got another coworker's attention. "Hey," I called out, "watch how fast I can do this!"

I threw the first leg over the wall, started to slide over, and then heard a strange noise. I paused mid-maneuver to figure out what had happened. I looked down and saw the inseam of my jeans had completely busted open from my knee to my crotch, allowing my fat thighs to come bulging out like a sausage with a torn casing. "Oh shit, I split my pants," I confessed loudly to anyone who was listening.

I knew it was only a matter of time before this happened. And in fact, that very morning as I put on this pair of jeans, I realized I'd absentmindedly put them in the dryer. They were always a bit tight on me, and when they went through the dryer they became the sort of jeans that flattened my ass into a pancake and cut off circulation at my knees. As I shoved myself into them, I noticed Devin was awake and watching me, and I felt compelled to say, "Whoops! Put these in the dryer and now they are way too tight," lest he think I believed these to be stylish and suitable pants.

Fortunately, and quite remarkably, the pants-splitting incident happened at the end of the work day and not first thing in the morning. So I was able to escape to my car and head home to mourn the loss of yet another good pair of jeans.

*I just wanted to add that the runner-up story that nearly got me blogging earlier involved my first ever encounter with a hearing-ear cat, which is like a seeing-eye dog, but opposite...I guess. I was in line at the bank and this man pulled a cat out of a cat carrier on wheels. He then held up an orange vest and, while the bank teller looked on, held the vest up to the cat, then pulled the vest away, then up to the cat, and then away. He then set the cat and the vest down and pointed to his ear, conveying, overall, that he was hearing impaired and that this cat was allowed to be in the bank with him because it was a licensed helper. I could not for the life of me make sense of this arrangement, particularly since the cat was in a crate.

Stalling

Jump On It

The Hills Recap: I Need To Get A Life

I missed The Hills on Monday, but I was very much looking forward to watching it online and recapping it for you fine folks.   However, last night as I sat on the couch with my laptop, Devin also settled in to watch TV.   This meant if we were both going to live in peace, I'd have to leave the room or find headphones.   But I'm too lazy for that. 

And I'm also too brilliant.  For in this stupid dilemma I saw opportunity.   Who needs words when you have furrowed brows?  

And so I present to you my first Hills recap written after watching the entire episode with the sound off.  Let the experiment begin!

Last week, after Heidi found out about Spencer's flirtatious ways, she once again fled to Colorado for a little mommy time.  But little did she know, her mom was hellbent on pushing Heidi's high school beau Colby as the greatest thing since white beard.  (You know, as in Spencer.  Get it?  Let's move on.)

But in the 10 person universe that is The Hills, word travels fast and in no time Stephanie was onto her commitment-ceremony-sister-in-law.  And now, she must tell Spencer.


Spencer: Oh you're here.  I thought I smelled something.
Stephanie: You're hilarious.  So what's up?
Spencer: Just whippin up a little french t.  That's how I say french toas--

Stephanie: Yeah yeah.  I get it.  Anyway, I don't have much time to shoot the shit.  I gotta get to fashion school drama club practice.  We're doing a theatrical production of 1980's sitcom A Different World.
Spencer: Well that explains your outfit.
Stephanie: How do you mean?
Spencer: Uh, nevermind.  So why are you here?
Stephanie:  To tattle on Heidi.  She was in Colorado with Colby.
Spencer: Who the eff is that?  The muppet?
Stephanie: No her ex boyfriend.  From high school...

Spencer: So?  We're married.  What's she gonna do, run away with him?
Stephanie: How many times must I tell you?  You're fake married.
Spencer: Oh right right.  So what am I supposed to do?
Stephanie: Don't worry.  I too am cooking up a little something...bwa ha ha.
Spencer: I don't get it.
Stephanie: You know, because you're cooking french toast and I'm cooking up a plan to get back at Heidi.

Spencer stares blankly at his sister.

Stephanie:  I hate you so much.



Meanwhile, over at The People's Revolution, Lauren decides to show up for work.


Lauren: Hey Kelly, how's it going up here in the loft?

Kelly jumps out of her skin as she looks up from her work.

Kelly: Jesus, blondie. You scared the bitch outta me. What are you doing here?


Lauren: Don't be silly, I work here.
Kelly: Really? You still work here?
Lauren: Yes of course. Why wouldn't I?


35 seconds pass by in silence and with uninterrupted eye contact.

Kelly: Alright. Whatever.

By the way, did anyone watch The City? Nah, me neither. I actually saw Whitney on the cover of a magazine while I was at the checkout at the grocery store and it took me a minute to recognize her. One wonders, what does the scripted reality star do once she's a has-been? I guess we'll find out soon enough.

But I digress.

Back at the world's most uncomfortable apartment, Spencer confronts Heidi about her Colorado love fest.


Spencer: Well look who's come crawling back...
Heidi: It's not like that. I told you I was coming home in a few days.
Spencer: Look who's come home with her tail between her legs.
Heidi: (sighing) Spencer...
Spencer: Look which little piggy went waa waa waa all the way home.


Heidi: Okay that's enough. Why are you pissed this time?
Spencer: A little birdie told me that you were cavorting with Colby.
Heidi: Do you even know who Colby is?
Spencer: Your lover! You're a whore, whore!
Heidi: I went out with Colby for like 3 days during sophomore year and it was just because he was in love with me and worked at the cineplex and got me into movies for free.
Spencer: Whore!


Heidi: I kissed him one time and I got free movies until we graduated. There was nothing else to do in that damn town. It was necessary.
Spencer: So why were you hanging around with him this time?
Heidi: My mom set us up. He's recently come into some money and he wanted to discuss a business venture.
Spencer: With you? Why?
Heidi: Spencer, I don't know if you've been paying attention lately, but we're sort of loaded.
Spencer: What kind of business? 
Heidi: I don't know. We didn't really talk much about it.
Spencer: Because you were too busy making out?
Heidi: Oh my god...
Spencer: A lemonade stand?
Heidi: Importing/exporting.


Spencer: Importing what?
Heidi:..chips.
Spencer: Chips. And what does he export?
Heidi: Diapers.
Spencer: Something feels very familiar about this conversation.
Heidi: I don't know what you mean. I'm going to go brush my hair.



And over at People's Revolution, Stephanie has moved on to ruining someone else's life.


Lauren: (into phone) I'll be outta work at like 4:30. Maybe I can meet up with you then? ...Hahahaha.....Oh, Brody. You so crazy!
Stephanie: Hey I hate to interrupt but I've been waiting here for 15 minutes already.
Lauren: (into phone) Sorry, I gotta go. Stephanie is here...I don't know what she wants she just appeared...I think I told her I could get her a job...Haha...I know I was probably drunk...Oh well...Ok I'll call you later.
Stephanie: Finally.

So Lauren sends Stephanie upstairs to the lion's den.


Stephanie: I'm so excited to meet you. I've heard so many great things.
Kelly: Ok so clearly you're lying. No one says great things about me.
Stephanie: Have you seen my resume?
Kelly: Yes. And I gotta ask, have you ever actually had a job before?
Stephanie: Oh sure, tons of jobs I just didn't put them on my resume.
Kelly: Like what?
Stephanie: Uh, importing...exporting...oh neat is that the new Vogue?
Kelly: Please don't touch my stuff.



Night falls and it's time for everyone to hit the town and have some fun. Spencer is ready for action and picks up his shadow-boxing pal Hot Dog Charlie.


Spencer: Dude are you feeling okay? You're acting super weird.
HDC: I'm great bro. Thanks for taking me out. I love that we're friends.
Spencer: Yyyyeah. Well anyway. I am ready for some tequila shots and some ladies.


HDC: And more tequila.
Spencer: That's right. It's what I use to grow my translucent facial hair at an astonishing rate.
HDC: White beard!
Spencer: White beard, bro. Are you sure you're okay?


HDC: I may have taken all our drugs.
Spencer: Figures.

Aaaand cut to Spencer doing shots.


Down the hatch!

Spencer: Ah man. It's great to finally get out for a little while. Blow off some steam.
Stacie: Yeah you must have had a hell of a week. All of that napping and playing Wii.
Spencer: Get off you high horse sugar, you work at a bar.
Stacie: Hey!


Spencer: Sorry. Sorry. Can we just stay focused? Stephanie is bringing Heidi here any moment.
Stacie: Wait, what?
Spencer: Didn't Hot Dog Charlie tell you? How you're helping me get back at my wife?
Stacie: Girlfriend.
Spencer: Whatever.
Stacie: No...
Spencer: Yo Charlie!


Hot Dog Charlie gurgles and spits up blood.

Just then, Heidi and Stephanie arrive and spot Spencer with his new buddy.

And let me tell you something, you don't need the volume up to tell when someone's saying fuck.



Spencer: Ruh roh. This is so much scarier than I'd anticipated, Stace.
Stacie: (through fake smile) Is she gonna kill me?


Spencer: Maybe.
Stacie: Thanks for dragging me into this, ass.


Heidi: How dare you do this to me!  Out with some floosie!   I got implants for you.
Stephanie: Mmm-hmm. Go on, girl.
Heidi: I gave up my best friend for you! I got these unicorn hair extensions.   And pore reduction surgery.
HDC: Hey, chill out on him.
Heidi: Sit down, lumberjack.


HDC: It's Hot Dog Charlie.
Heidi: Okay, if I need meth, I'll let you know. Until then, will you please take your seat.
Spencer: Hey you started this when you went out with Colby to discuss your "business venture."


Heidi: Will you just grow up? And stop with the air quotes.
Spencer: Importing/exporting. The only thing he was importing was his penis into your vagi--
Heidi: That's it. I've heard enough. See ya next Monday.

And that concludes my first audio-less Hills recap.  Wow, that was not hard at all. 

The Hills Recap: On The Love Boat

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