Numbers and Letters and thingys

You may have read that Holly and Janet are turning 27 this week? - Let's all say it together: "OohHHhh my gahhhhd.....Tweeeeennnnnteeeee ssseeeeevennn - ooooOOOOOOoooohh that is OLLD! I know of what I speak, being an entire two months and change ahead of them. Seriously - I've been blissfully savoring every moment of my, ahem, MID-twenties, right up till the other day. There were not one, but several Bad Things (Bad Things = silver hairs) and I haven't been able to stop peering at myself in the mirror ever since -not for the pleasure of getting an up-close and personal of my stunningly awesome combonation of adult acne and papery eye skin, but just to see if I can find any more of the little bastards. So far, I haven't found any, but they are lurking, to be sure. The only consolation I have is the fact that I've held out against the Bad Things for a full decade longer than my mom and aunt (due, likely to the fact that I don't have kids - yeah! aNOTHer bonus!)

However, there are more weighty matters at hand: First of all, guess who's turning THIRTY-FRICKIN' NINE in....two days? Mmmmhhmmm....we are officially only one. year. away from this scenario:

= 40. As in, "Yes, my husband is in his forties."
+

= 28. As in, "Yes, I have only been able to legally purchase alcohol for seven years, why do you ask"? Should I just go ahead and start saving for a blond wig and a convertible now? I kid, I kid - and he wants a Porche and prefers me as a redhead. To be honest, I've been waiting for next year with some sort of sick glee since we got married - I couldn't really say why, but something about being in those particular decades is sort of (Family stop reading now, no NOW, no RIGHT THIS SECOND)

..........................I can see you guys trying to scroll down. Go take a hike or something.
.......................................................................
Seriously, take the dog for a pee or go make something out of wood.
..............................................................................................................................................Now.

All clear? The whole 40/28 thing? It's sort of....hot to me, I really couldn't say why - apparently I think I'll morph into some sort of extra-youthful almost-thirty just as he's entering the big 4-O decade. Clearly, I am delusional. But it's sort of nice to wish, right? But seriously, I do have one or two other bits of trivia here.
First, a small toot of my own horn (tooot!) I would like any and all of you who are able to go, right now and purchase the current issue of Santa Barbara Magazine (which should really be called, "Montecito people who live here 3 weeks of the year and like to have their picture taken in expensive clothes."). Open to the "Weddings" section. Clap your hands for me, for yes, yes, that is my couple on the full-page shot. Thanks. Also, a short poll: Do you think I should feature that particular shot as part of an ad I'm getting?

And now, it's time for How The Heck Did you Get Here?, February 07 version. (Otherwise known as "Copying the phrases people Googled and ended up here in lieu of actual posting.") Let's see if it sticks as a regular feature, shall we?

• cats dogs incestous feral - Ummmm, we don't have dogs. And the cats are NOT related, and they just kiss and hug each other, so this is an all-PG household, thanks.
• pictures of a coral pink ( pinky orange) bedroom - Well, aren't we specific?
• video of seacrest tearing griffin's blouse at awards show - I'd actually like to see that - anyone who has this, please go ahead and comment, will ya?
• little girl squirrel 60s tv show - I really don't remember this one, but we do occasionally call Edie the "little girl squirrel".

Girls & Boys (to copy Jonniker and title my post after a song)

First off, this post is totally gender-divided, with the first bit primarily for the ladies and the next for the gents. My apologies to the feminist movement, any guys out there who are planning their weddings and ...everyone else. I think it's also a testament to the (potential) power of blogging, linking, commenting and sometimes, just screwing around with the Google.

That being said: As a wedding planner, I struggle with the "Wedding Industry" as a whole.
"What a crock!" some of you are exclaiming, "she perpetuates the Wedding Industry! She's hawking those eight-pound magazines like a New York hot dog guy! She obsesses over invitation ink colors and envelope textures!" This may be true, but wait, wait just a minute here - allow me to explain myself. Yes, for some people, hiring a planner is more of a luxury than a necessity.

My clients, to a person, have all thanked me for a) Keeping them, their relatives and guests happy and oblivious of any issues b) Not allowing them to waste their money on any of that Godawful Wedding Crap c) Occasionally, gently reminding them that, in the end, it is (or should be) about the Marriage, not just the Wedding.

I often cruise around online, looking for "alternative" wedding website. It was my delicious, buttercream-y surprise to discover Ariel Meadow Stallings' blog, Offbeat Bride and to get a copy of her book, Offbeat Bride (Taffeta-free alternatives for independent brides)

Yes, I am totally encouraging consumerism: Buy This Book!

And as for the lads (and ladies who like the Lakers) - I am not the sports fan in the family, as you all know. However, this story here is so completely hysterical, even I am amused by it. Charles Barclay has challenged Dick Bavetta (video here) to a footrace, because he claims Dick is old and slow. If you aren't familiar with him, Dick Bavetta is an iconic basketball referee, the Chick Hearn of refs. He is a spry, lean guy with the age spots and sideways grin of someone who has Seen it All. The players, by and large, respect his calls and don't talk back to him very much. He responded to Barclays' challenge by offering to donate $5,000 to "Charity" under the name of the winner. I can't wait to see this.

The Veteran The Challenger

VS.

Frightful

Scott just called me over to say: "It is SNOWING in Malibu." Let me repeat that:

It is SNOWING in Malibu.

I wonder how the CHP or whoever got a snow plow out there so fast. Last March it snowed on our "Riviera", but snow .... in... Malibu? Fuggetaboutit!

Another tag?

I'm sitting in my house, the sun shining bright outside, the BEEEEEP! BEEEP! BOOOOOP! of the tractors jangling my nerves, a million emails to return. I'm wearing a soft (really!) blue hand-knit wool sweater that I bought just outside the town of Beer, England on my first big trip. It doesn't feel like it nine years have passed since I spent a month touring the lovely little towns, museums and countryside of England.



Like all good trips, it passed in a blur of beautiful accents and of course I vividly remember places like Burghley House. I was really happy I kept a trip journal for the majority of the time. I'm not a scrap-booker, but collecting, cutting, and taping little bits and pieces into the pages helped to cement some of the smaller memories in my mind. Flipping through the pages, I remember how amazed I was to be seeing more of the world at seventeen than my parents had at forty. I wasn't the least bit smug, but saddened that all their hard work had never translated into anything for themselves, beyond our families' necessities. I've never been able to properly express my gratitude for their graduation gift (round trip plane ticket from LAX to JFK to Heathrow and back, purchased by non-travel-savvy people, thus ensuring maximum fleece-age).

These days, our more recent trips have been for work, family and the odd bit of dental work. I think about writing here as my own little online scrapbook, sans the bits of paper and dried flowers under tape. As I peruse my (much loved!) list of links, I realized something: As much as I enjoy them, other than Peter, Chiada, Desiree and Joy, we don't have much in common other than our love of writing. I hope by joining up with the Indie Bloggers I'll have some success finding some non-topic based sites with a sense of humour and without any twee tickers or the like. Not that I have anything against people who put up tickers or pastel-colored cartoons or the like. In theory. So here's to a new chapter for Chock Late...wish me luck.

The Anticlimax

So....I just NOW realized that today was the last day of NaBloPoMo. Huh...well, that went relatively quickly, I'm really quite surprised - can't say that was my best month of posting, but it was a fun experiment. Of course the best bit is the prizes, right? So, without further adieu... here are some of the lovely prizes offered: From Sandra - Chocolates! Mmmmmm! I'm sure Scott would much prefer the Memphis bbq sauce and dry rib rub that Lynnster is offering. Of course I do love a good book, and could always use a good idea or 100....cough, cough, Ree, looking at you.

Wish me luck, for lo, there are many of us, the faithful bloggers of November.

Nothing profound, to be sure

I'll do the things I've learned in the last twenty-seven years list.....tomorrow.

Thing #1: Never put off till tomorrow...oh wait.

No, really, I've been up since seven (thanks, AMY!) and have been go-go-going ever since - from meetings to more meetings to food tastings to getting my hair done...it's been a busy day. I think 27 is going to be a good year. I hope.

Open Letters, take two

Dear Weather,

First of all: I'm not complaining about your current state. I simply adore the eighty degree days and T-shirt weather nights we've been having - it does make for wonderful mid-week beach days and my evening walks have been a delight.

However, as "winter" will be officially starting in about a month, it would somewhat behoove you to start to 'simma dawwn now!" There are cute sweaters, scarves and boots that could be worn, and I'm finding it difficult to wear pants without being hot. Please note that warm weather is welcome back as of the end of December. One month of 'winter' will do nicely, thanks.

Dear Throat,

Either get really sore and get it over with, or feel better immediately. Choice b preferred.

That is all.

Dear Email,

I do not need to EnLarGe mY MaNhoOd, refinance my house, go on a cruise or anything else. I'd just like my email. Thank you!

Dear Mooshi-Mooshi,

I know you read here. Why do you toss out random comments to me while I'm in the midst of other activities? I really like your hair right now. I'm glad you like your little presents from yesterday. Can we go to Berkeley next weekend?

Love, Me


Either

Definitely worth six bucks. (Bond)

Good...early evening. I'm here for a quick review of the new James Bond. First of all, Daniel Craig as Bond: Better than I thought he'd be, with a different twist on a fairer/lighter Bond - even though Roger Moore had lighter brown hair, it isn't the same as seeing the obviously flaxen Craig onscreen. I can only imagine the endless conversations casting had about Craig while they considered the pros and cons of dying his hair. The opening sequences, were, I felt, a bit weak - not enough action before it went to the graphics and I was sad when they didn't use the classic Bond theme song.

As for the movie portion of the movie? Without giving anything away, all I can say are these few things:

• It runs long, but the time flies when you're looking at such gorgeous scenery. (Double entendre completely intended)
• Daniel Craig must have spent an unbelieveable amount of time at the gym. Bravo to him for fitting so very neatly into his teeny, tiny man-kini.
• Even if you're like me and don't play cards, the casino scenes are still fairly electrifying.
  
• I love that Eva Green has what appear to be real boobs and, more importantly, real acting skills. Doesn't hurt that she's completely gorgeous without being too perfect - I loved seeing little frizzies in her hair.
  
• Getting some little backstory details, even this late into the series, was very gratifying - I know my dad will love some of the car bits.
  
• Speaking of bits, my least favorite part, involves a naked Bond and his, erm, bits. (Shuddering hard)
  

In short, go see it.

Haiki

Haiku (Haiki?)

Pre-season b-ball,
I cannot wait for the end
to regain my man.


P.M.S.: Not real
till the last six months or so
now an evil elf


Cat fur flies like snow,
Sleek bodies careen around
furry yin and yang.


P.S. Still Searching for Good Purse. Contest still open! $200 and under!

Helena Hand...bag - A Contest!

I'll admit it, frankly: I've never been terribly skilled at accessorizing - yes, I collect shoes, but I've only recently purchased a couple of purses for myself, and yesterday's earring purchase increased the collection by about 75 percent. (Collection stood at: diamond studs, silly silver hoops, mother of pearl large tear-shaped dangles)

• c. 1997-1999: Pale blue 'shopping bag with long handles' in sturdy vinyl/plastic - cute enough at the time, went all the way to England with me. Graduation gift.
  
• c. 1999-200-something: Upgraded to Prada, (via ex-boyfriend) a cute, black, medium-sized tote that I schlepped around all over the place until I was completely sick of it - about four years after everyone else was oooover it.
• 
• Mid-2000 - Occasionally alternated the Prada with a cool vintage clutch, lined in bright orange - a gift from my sister-in-law, or the tiny black or white beaded evening bags she gave me. Found the following truths to be universal: 1. Clutches are cute, but ye must clutch them, all night long...through cocktails, wind, rain, appetizers, shaking people's hands. They tend to migrate to two areas of my body, and end up between my knees or tucked up in my armpit. Neither are attractive or appropriate for a purse of such cuteness. 2. Tiny beaded purses that cannot simutaneously house a compact and a cell phone can only live in the Elysium fields of my imaginary social life - you know, the one where I get to attend (as a guest) parties that are a cross between Breakfast at Tiffany's and The Great Gatsby.
  
• 2005: Bought a cute (small) black purse, just big enough to lose my keys in, from Target. It is dead and will not be coming back.
  
• Recently: I got really sick of having to hand-carry binder(s), phone, lighter, etc around or try and stash them somewhere out of sight every event I do. In a moment of weakness, I dashed over to Ross (let me pause and hang my head in shame here) and grabbed a sturdy, open-topped satchel. Not the prettiest, not the smallest, it boasts three open-topped compartments, a zippered center divider, and an outside half-height pocket. Scott hates it, and keeps pestering me to tell him what the fashionable gals are carrying around these days.
  

I've discovered a two-fold problem with this new purse: Scott hates it with the fire of a thousand burning suns, and it holds a lot of crap. To wit, I am currently carrying around the following items, among others:

Beauty:
-Cute brown/white scarf, purchased yesterday
-50 small bobby pins, tweezers.
-Mac products: NC 40 pressed powder, bronze "powersurge" eye kohl, foundation brush (yes, I know, yes I clean and dry it regularly)
-Free sample of Clinique repairwear SPF 15 anti-aging makeup, too light, gets blended with other products, such as my almost-denuded cheap, water-based foundation.
-Two lipliners (light pink, medium lip-tone), black eyeliner, mascara, deep red "Rhapsody" lipstick purchased with my sister in Colorado, 'raspberry' Clinique lipstick (gift with purchase, happens to look good), 'Downtown Brown' matte lipstick/clear gloss, clear nail polish, weird pink gloss I never keep on and is too light by itself.
-Mini hair brush, clip, 3 Tampax

Sustenance, aka kid/husband bribery:
-Mini Butterfinger, bite-sized 3 Musketeers, SweetTarts, violet candy (tastes exactly like it smells!) two sticks Orbit gum, mini Tootsie pop. Some evidence of tiny Tootsie roll.

Miscellany:
-10 sea-green/blue/clear glass beads.
-trio of cute mini-stick pads
-shopping list
-silica gel pack
-One crumpled personalized cocktail napkin,
-Small craft box containing mini wedding album.
-Six normal pens, one gold, one 'nice' pen (suitable for guestbook and contract signing)
-Passport.
-Fully functional "stick" lighter (good for candles, arson, bonfires, lighting heaters)
-$1.47, Level Vodka magnetic billfold, 2 keys, tiny flashlight, Borders/Library/Albertsons card/P.E.T.C.O. card.
-Deep red corkscrew pull, gift of another awesome photographer.

Work:
-Two card organizers, full of cards.
-Lovely engraved silver card holder with my name and business name on it.
-Bunch of my business cards, two of Scotts'.
-Cell phone.
-Gift card from a photographer friend, good for an engagement portrait session.

So here's where the contest starts: What kind of purse should I invest in? Suggestions, pictures, admonitions on my bad handbag choices and dire stories of child laborers making the sort of purse I just bought are all equally welcome. Just remember, I'm looking for the following criteria:

1. Must be large enough to comfortably fit a one-inch binder in it, plus a bunch of other stuff.
2. Must easily sling over my shoulder (no tiny straps)
3. Must be fairly water-wine-weather proof - and hopefully not black (everyone's purse is black, this is a bad thing at weddings). Red perhaps? Subtle patterns ok. Not overly trendy (no weird grommet-y things, etc)
4. Must have pockets, compartments and at least have a strap over the top, if not a zippered top.
5. Try not to break my bank - We need to head down to Mexico for another exciting week of dental work, and I'm hoping to spend a lovely day or two at Disneyland as a sort of mini vacation soon.

Winning suggestion will get a special surprise from me in the mail! Start your engines, ladies and gentlemen.

Not MyThing

Some days I feel a bit ludicrous with the whole "blawwwwg" thing - really, the world is hardly in need of my little world-view, there are far worse things in life than living in Santa Barbara and being constantly harassed to procreate.

Like MySpace, for instance. I just spent, no, lost....an hour and a half of my life browsing, mostly amongst my high school and Scotts' graduating class. Side note: The Pacific Grove class of 1986, apparently, was a bunch of people who were so disdainful of each other that they can't even muster enough spite to have a class reunion (read: Drink to much and compare how much money they make.)

Which bums me out, because I was really hoping to get my arms really ripped, make Scott buy me a cute new dress and a spray-on tan and go as his trophy wife. You don't know if I'm kidding, do you? Hint: Not really. I've been secretly dreaming about this since we got married. Which I suppose makes me eeee-vile, but I just thought it would be fun to cruise into some reception hall somewhere, grab a drink and talk to people who knew my husband when his hair was four inches tall and wore Creepers.

Of course, I can always look at pictures, ask his sister or some of our friends, but the past six years haven't yielded the sort of stories I'm looking for. If one were to talk to my friends from days gone by, there would be lots of tales to tell. You know, the usual things like skinny-dipping, massive mudfights, what the phrase 'walk the dog' is key for (not that, you dirty bird!), why I still dissolve into laughter at the phrase, "ChaaAAcKolate!"*, how to disgust me with simple household words, how badly I was dressed in the 80's, and the time I laughed so hard that I commented, "You could say my grandmother just died, and I'd still laugh...haaaa!" Note here: She didn't, in fact, pass for another twenty years or so, and the humour value of that night remains.
*Another reason for the name of this blog. You know who you are.

MySpace, though... I think I just don't get it as a "networking" tool - there were very limited choices for profession, the settings are waaay to numerous and complicated, and last of all, I'm not 17. Nor do I wish I was, and being married and naturally, not looking to meet anyone, it doesn't really seem like somewhere I'll be spending any amount of time. I'm not saying it's a bad thing, but I already have enough things to waste my time on.

Like Grey's Anatomy. Mmmmmm...McDreaaammmy....McSteaammmmy.... Or Lost...Daniel Dae's Kim('s excellent cheekbones). Plus I hear Ugly Betty is hella funny. And I need to work on my new wedding - yes, there is always another one in the works - if this one works out, I can officially say I've done a rock star's house - never a bad thing, huh?

It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year...

An Ode to Candy Corn - (Meant only partially in jest.)

Just as Willy Wonka would surely say,
(if he were only real and with us today)
"There should be a poem for every bit of candy
even though liquor is quicker, sweets are dandy."
So this is my ode as each October, a special joy is born,
and I renew my deep and unabiding love of candy corn.
Unlike many, I take delight in their triangular little shapes,
and wish that they could be found acceptable as canapes.
That superlative original honey-vanilla-fake carmel drop,
not that "indian corn", "cupid corn", "bunny corn" slop...
Makes the fall season come alive with warmth and joy for me
In a way unlike those imposters that are 'flavored naturally'.
So mock me, mock me, if you will, for savoring this childish treat
But make sure that you use the right method, should you eat-
Yellow tops first, than the tiny white tips, orange centers last,
While you dream sweet-flavored dreams of autumns past.

You're either on my side here, or not - there is no middle ground here, sadly. Of course, the best time to purchase it is the day after Halloween.

Its De-Lovely, Its Delightful, Its....De-Lurkers?

They say a few things about writing. Some chestnuts of wisdom I have heard:

Write about what you know about. (Well....duh!)
Know your target audience.
Find your voice, and keep that same tone throughout (unless one is writing parallell narratives, etc.)

Now, in the world of the Blaawwwwwwg (I really hate that word), things are a little different. There are those *cough, MySpace, cough* who WriTE liKE thIs...apparently in hopes of being Uouneeek and Speshial, and take oversharing to its umpteenth degree. There are others who for various reasons, write under a psudonym, in vaguest terms, and still manage to say to much on some topics and not enough to give a clear picture of themselves in others. Still others are fine with their personal business (sex/drug/rockn'roll addiction, ugly family dynamics, E.D., etc) hanging on the internet for anyone to see.

I am not so much in any of those categories....I think I give a pretty clear picture of the parts of my life that I'm willing to share with (potentially) my family, friends and strangers to read. However, I do notice that there a number of you, some on the Pacific coast, others in Canada, a whole bunch on the Eastern seaboard, and quite a good number of international folk, who don't comment. Personally, I don't comment every single place I read, every single time. But I'd like to raise a glass/mug of tea to all of you, just the same.

So...(taps glass with fork) I hereby propose a toast: May I find the inspiration (somewhere) to eventually write something that moves you to comment. Till then, I remain your faithful reporter of the odd, the irritating, and the silly trivia that is life here in Santa Barbara. Bottoms up!

Open Letters

Dear Fall,

Words cannot sufficiently express my deep appreciation for your recent cooperation. The cloud cover, sans rain or excess breezes, has proved to be the perfect light diffuser for photography. Your gracious use of rain in the wee hours of the morning has served to keep everything looking and smelling clean and tidy outside, and yet has not dampened or soiled anything I've had set up outside.

If you could just keep this up for two more weeks, I will be eternally grateful. Rain, hail, wind, etc will be just fine in November, so long as they don't prevent us from going up to Berkeley and hanging out with our friends somewhere after I turn all of twenty-seven. (Twenty-seven...when did that happen? And how stoked am I that I was clever enough to go ahead and have my 'quarter-life crisis' two years ago, right at the two and a half decade mark.) In closing, I'd also like to thank you for being significantly less depressing than I've traditionally found you to be.

Thanks much and can't wait for the candy corn.

Maya

Dear Edie,

Please stop trying to "Houdini" your way out of every small crack of the door or potential open screen. You are almost pure white and every speck of dirt, spider web, or other gross item shows clearly on your coat. Also, you are not....intensely well-acquainted with The Great Outdoors, and are likely to get eaten, stolen or or run over the second you go outside. This would be A Bad Thing and your father, brother and I would be very, very tramatized by it. Also, stop chewing on the foam padding that lines your papa's DJ coffin. I've been picking up tiny bits of gray foam off the floor for days and your litterbox has been less than its' normal bundle of joy.

PS. We think you're the cutest little girl-squirrel in the world.

Dear Impending Holiday Season/"Winter",

Again may I say how very much Christmas sweaters, egg-nog, Norman Rockwell reproductions, the jolly Coca-Cola Santa Claus ads and those saccarine Christmas movies make me want to hurl. Since we don't have 'real seasons' here, I can't really get behind the cute chunky layered sweater/scarf/nice boots look, and end up just wearing jeans and a sweater and a scowl with sandals like always. Admittedly my heart is made of tar and little peices of ground-up glass, but my vote is to move right from candy and turkey on sale to a more handy month, like April.

PS. You better not rain on the 1st. Death March Day is sacred.

Love, your mom.

Dear Mooshi-Mooshi and other Family Members,

I know you visit me here. Why no comments? Just because you're in the other room doesn't mean you can't show me some love. STOP LURKING, for the love of Pete. It skeeves me out I seee youuuu and don't know what you think about this stuff.

xoxoxo

Maya

Dear Everyone Who Meets Me For More than 2.5 seconds, including the intoxicated new father from Saturday who kept asking me if he or his friend was better looking,

Please try and look past the fact that I have a uterus that is not currently in use and see me as just a person. I also have a brain, many ideas and other interests, and feelings. Despite my somewhat witty responses to your repeated, rather intrusive questioning, said feelings are a bit bruised when you ask me why I'm not/I don't/when am I going to/how can I NOT/how can I say that I know I don't want to have a kid if I don't already haaave one. I was working that particular evening, not trolling around for your unsolicited opinions on my life choices.

PS. I bet your kid is ugly. Yes, I am mean. Maybe that is the best arguement in favor of my non-procreation. I am a mean and evil person who secretly thinks that 96 of out 100 newborn babies are frightenly ugly. Also, I've witnessed the 'miracle of birth' at close hand, twice, and it was miraculous that I didn't scoop out my eyes with a melon baller.

Doouuuuuude.....

May I apologize in advance.... this is just GOING to sound a wee bit...disjointed. Call it oscillating wildly or whatever you will...but I am just not a person who attracts drama*. Had I been that type of a person, I would have been Dooced in...2000 or whatever - I would nevvvv-er, evvv-ver have been....say, tapped for a major news interview. There would have been a quick, simple termination, and blamm-o....an absolute non-entity would have been born. Instead, in 2000 I was off getting married and having my metabolism rebel against me like so many Vietnam veterans.... and I was...busy.

The Depth and Breadth To Which I Shed Drama: An example: Once upon a time (Please Note: This was some years before I even met my 'Mooshi-Mooshi', who frankly is the Best Friend I've Ever Had) I was able to completely pull off doing/attending the wedding reception of a someone for whom I would once have...well.... (Note: sadly, no exaggeration) voluntarily peeled off my own skin for. That fact, in and of itself, makes me rather proud of myself for my excellent self-control and Good Common Sense. Especially since I was single at the time.

However, today: Here are some of the phrases that have escaped my lips:

-What the ffffffrrrrrrrreeeeeeeeeeeak is up with THAT?
-Why so much drama with these ladies?
-What did i DOOOOOOO?
-I'm going to requre....yet another glass of champagne in order to go to sleep before two in the a. m..
-I Heart Dane Cooks Tourgasm

Dream a little dream

The other night, I dreamnt (dreamed? had a dream? Grammar police: please help) that I was a backseat passenger in a tiny European car (somewhat like the original Mini) with an old friend of mine, Dani. She and her mom were sitting in the front and I was crushed sideways across the back 'seat', holding on for dear life as we zipped around a labryinth of tiny streets. At one point we navigated a turn that took a wrong way, where we had to back up almost off a ledge, and ended up getting out in the middle of some sort of orphans' school where children of all ages were running wild. The scenery and architecture were a mix of pictures and film I've seen of Santorini, Greece, the scenery from Nacho Libre and the controversial new film by Deepa Mehta about Indian widow communites, Water. (Rent it/put it on your NetFlix queue now, please)

Clearly, one should not drink martinis without the proper precautionary measures. Out of nowhere in my dream, I began laughing hysterically....why? Because I had an Idea for a new addition to McSweeneys Lists: Lesser-Known Classical Greek Figures:

• Helen of Sparta - the face that launched a thousand pans of baklava
• Comet - Ajax's lesser-known friend.
• Jeff the Argonaut. Jason's first mate.
  

There were a bunch more on that list, at any rate, to make me wake up laughing at myself - my second-favorite way to wake up. The first, of course, would be to awake and find myself in on an all-expenses-paid vacation to Costa Rica. Which suggests that my ancient Greek name should be Morphea, Queen of delusional dreams.

Semi-Live from before the Emmys

Pre-Show Pre-Show Show: Missed it. Don't care, this is going to be long enough. The official title of this post: Semi-Live From the Red Carpet, because We all know that the Clothes are What we (and when I say we, that would be the Royal We) watch these Award Shows for:

First of all: I really, really love the bamboo/tropical flower arrangements that Ryan Seahorse or Saltcrust or whatever is standing in front of. Aaron Spelling...bleh. Celebrity swag bags - about time they started paying some stinkin' taxes. Side Note: Wentworth Miller is just. gorgeous. I love Prison Break. Apparently the lady on Curb Your Enthusiasm, Cheryl Hines somebody, has fallen in love with her Bedazzler. It looks serious, we may see a sparky baby any time now. I'm told that "Butts are the new boobs" how so - will we be seeing rump cleavage next year? How do I love thee, men of the cast of Gray's Anatomy? Peter Krause has a square, square head and no lips at all. He should shave more. Ha! Japanese-animation pooo! Britney Spears' reality show! Best Line Here: "She's the good parent."

6:30: What the heck is Sandra Oh wearing around her neck, the entire jewlery store? I love Steven Colbert, the Colbert Report....but not as much as I love Jon Stewart. Jennifer Love Hewitt is still pretty, and I think has she been....eating actual food? Girl looks as though she may weigh more than six pounds - how refreshing! Hold the phone: Virgina Madsen has some serious boobage going on - her skin looks amazing. Amy Pohler needs to dial down the Clorox near her forehead just a wee, tiny bit.

Side Note: My neighbors, the "JoseMarias", as I've lovingly dubbed them, have been screaming and yelling at ... some 'futball' game for hours, so the sounds of "wwwoOOOOO!", car engines and mariache music are a delightful background to my thoughts. Ron Livingston is still adorable - he always looks like he's whispering some sweet nothing into his dates' ear. His ... wife? date? looks as though she may be wearing a set of dark-colored pasties under her dress.

Heidi Klum + Seal = Great bump. Isaiah Washington - Denzel for the millenium? We'll see. Curb Your Enthusiasm is up for Best Comedy - hmmm, it would be nice if a show without perfect, pretty Hollywood types won something. Tyra Banks is looking fierce... like a tiger. She's a foot taller than Seacrest - even he joked about it. Wow... a $50,000 dress and 3.5 million of jewlery. Jane Kaczmerzak or what all has almost the same bright red, Grecian-draped dress as pregnant Heidi Klum, but hers is a bit more symmetrical. Diane Keaton hawking Loreal? Someone order up another version of Something's Gotta Give.

Katherine Hiegl...don't hate her because she's beautiful in vintage Escada, giant hairclips and Jimmy Choos, hate her because she can pull off Princess Leia hair. Allison Janney... Deep crimson red, flapper style, very appropriate for her 'handsome' (vs. pretty) face. Portia de Rossi- Steel gray super-layery gown with funky cutouts on top, pretty makeup, no Ellen DeGeneres.

Big trend spotted: Greek-style draping, red, tans, princess-style points on strapless dresses.

Leah Remini: That same pointy-topped, asymmetrical top strap dress that everyone else is wearing by Versace, dead eyes and crab-apple attitude by Scientology. Patrick Dempsey is McDreamy. His wife...needs to trim her bangs and stand up straight, for the luvvapete. Kim Raver: Again with the Grecian style drapery, awesome hair and makeup. Unfortunately not so much with the eating, too bad. Steve Carell: Better looking on live TV than in the movies...I think he was wearing mascara. His wife, Nancy, in bright red drapey-ness aaaa-gain. Jenna Fisher from The Office needs to get her dress hemmed, the thing looks like a weird shelf kind of weirdly propping her boobs up, all tied up in...a bow? Hey, there's Keira Sedgwick...where's Kevin Bacon?

Second Big Trend Spotted: People who eat, just a bit. Yeah!

Lisa Kudrow - black, boobs, Botox...blah. She's wishing for The Comeback to ...well, come back. Honestly, she seems a bit brittle to me - a less well-written Phobe Buffett with a Katherine Hepburn-esque voice. Sara Chalke someone from Scrubs - I've seen that like three times and it was so funny, I always think to myself, "Self, you should get that Scrubs show on DVD sometime, that Zach Braff guy is pretty funny" (bonus: He totally reminds me of a dark haired version of an old boyfriend - those of you who know me, you know who I'm talking about here - even Scott agrees.) Ummmm, what... the Emmys? Oh yeah, Sara Chalke is wearing this half-heartedly vintage pink lace number ... and she just actually said it, "Used to be her grandmothers" - sadly it looks like her grandmother lived in the 80's and took her fashion cues from

7:30: I think its time for some wine. I don't care about American Idol. Jaime Pressley and her boobs, chewing gum and funny lil' accent that I always think is just a bit put-on. Girls from Deal or No Deal...black. Borrrring! Julia Louis-Dreyfuss, on her phone, well the top of her looks great in cute pink and black. Oh, there's Kevin Bacon. Keira Sedgwicks' dress appears to have eaten L.A., but well-played in that great steel gray. Debra Messing - is she pregnant again? Her deep-red hair looks really, really good, but that white, multi-tiered confection number doesn't really do much for her. Her shoes, on the other hand, rocked. Simon Cowell is a tool with way, way too much chest hair.

Megan Mullaley - I wish she would do her "Karen" voice all the time. She's thumbs-downing her own dress? Whaaa? Ellen Pompeo, sporting ultra flat-ironed hair in a ponytail...innnnteresting. Must say, Christian Dior aside, the last time I saw purple velvet in a full-length dress...I was in eighth grade. Keifer Sutherland...you have exceeded the twenty-four-million-watt hotness limit.

Who's this chick in the blue dress? Kathy Griffin has officially descended the celebrity ladder down to rung F - she brought a soldier from Iraq. Evangeline Lilly is so, very pretty - I think she might know it, too. Her dress is the grape, crepe, (better) satin version of Ellen Pompeo's. Kate Walsh is all smiles in what appears to be liquid silver as a fabric, plus sequins. Her hair is much lighter than it was on the last season of Gray's. Jeremy Piven appears to have brought his mom as his date. How sweeeet, no entourage in sight this evening. I'm sorry. Alright, on with the show...heeeeeeeeeerrrrrrrr'es .....Conan O'Brian.

Going Ape

The other morning, I awoke at six in the morning, eyes-wide-open, no-sleeping-now awake. I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, and let my mind wander as it would. Naturally, it seized, hawk-like onto a phrase and stuck there. The phrase? "Going Dutch"

Why Dutch? Are the Dutch so liberal-minded that they split everything down the middle? I was thinking about this, and made up a list of what "Going ______" (a bunch of different countries) would be. Here goes:

Going Australian: Six pints of Victoria Bitters and a game of pool.
Going Belgian - A stack of waffles, a box of chocolate, and you.
Going Costa Rican - Walk through the jungle and two shots of guarro.
Going Egyptian - Visit your local mosque, sign an engagement contract.
Going Greek - Stuffed grape leaves, ouzo and both of your families.
Going Hawaiian - Hit the beach, do the huki-lau.
Going Italian - Bring your friends, eat some pasta. Or polenta. Or pesce.
Going Japanese - Everything done using advanced electronics.
Going Mexican - Listen to some mariachis, drink tequila.
Going Norweigan - Hike up a mountain, hike back down. Repeat.
Going Peruvian - Wear a cool hat, ride a llama.
Going Russian - Drink vodka. Drink more vodka. Dance. Drink vodka.
Going South African - Swim with sharks, drink wine.
Going Thai - Get a massage, eat a curry.

Countdown

47:27 until the World Cup is o00vvverrrrrrrrrrrr! For the Next! Four! Yeeeeeeeaaaars! Yesssss!

That is all. Please, return to your day.

Dear Summer

Dear Summer fruits like strawberries, blueberries and cherries: I love you guys. You have my eternal gratitude so much for providing two of my last three meals and helping me avoid turning on the stove lately. Summer movies like Lemony Snicket, Breaking Away, The Sandlot - you're the best. Summer festivals like the French, Greek and of course Fiesta- love you, hate the parking problems you cause.

Dear cats (in summertime) - Can we please cease and desist from the daily destruction of my closet, the shower curtain liner, and any other items your little paws can find? I'm sure you must be familiar enough with the contents of my small dresser that you no longer need to CLIMB INSIDE it to check my supply of underthings. Remember the other "morning" (it was still dark, but we'll call it morning) when I heard a "CliNk! Pop! and the slathering noise of plastic against porcelain and I sighed, "mmmaaaah! I think they just tore down part of the shower curtain..." and went back to sleep? I was right. You also managed to jump up into the top of my closet and knock down those neatly folded bins again...why?

Dear McConnells Cinnamon Ice Cream with chocolate brownie chunks on top - I think I could love you, now kindly leave my imagination before you take up permanant residence on my thighs.

Dear Summerland Beach/Loon Point Naked People: Put some clothes on, for the love of all that is holy. You are old, your business is old and that business should be hidden under many, many layers of clothing.

Dear fan, ice cubes and cool drinks: Thanks for keeping the sweat (mostly) away in my little postage stamp of a house. We couldn't survive without you.

Dear "summer wine" rose: I still don't get it. Sorry, I know you're the new darling of the wine drinkers, but the only rose I've ever liked was that one in the Hunter Valley, and it doesn't appear that we're heading to the incomparable Esca at Bimbadgen winery any time soon. Last night it was hot enough to roast a turkey in our office, and I still didn't manage to finish my measly, pink half-glass.

Dear Lindsay: Thanks a million and one times for letting me borrow the first season of South Park. Scott is totally laughing at the one with Mega Streisand. I'm coming back to the Purple Person Place (aka your adorable apartment) and getting the second season, asap.

Dear Weird Tiredness: Please go far, far away and land on someone else's head. I have so many things to do and I cannot nap like a four year old. I don't have time!

Dear Summer Reading List: I love you and your potentially endless possibilities, even if I never finish you. I was so happy when I was able to share your wonders with a young friend.

Dear Readers. Lurkers of Stoppers-by: Give me a topic, please!