Occasionally, I watch the news...to my dismay

Normally I would not comment on things in the world that do not concern me, but I do feel a bit moved to express my opinions on a recent topic of interest:

Oh, I have such mixed feelings about Ms. Paula Dean.  I loved her whole story when she first started: she had the whole agoraphobia, abusive husband, made her success on her own (which I still admire, btw) thing going for her, and sincerely, her recipes are the shit.  As in, her food is fucking delicious, and I own many of her cookbooks...because I am Southern...and engaged to a very Southern boy...and I like my fried foods.  And a lot of Paula's recipes satisfy that very comforting "food I grew up on" hole that occasionally needs to be filled.  Sometimes you just crave peach cobbler with a gallon of butter, or a dinner of deep fried everything, you just do.

So I was torn when Mr. Tony Bourdain, who I have also LONG loved...(as in "have a huge crush on, and had Kitchen Confidential long before he became a Food Network/Travel Channel/CNN "star" yes, I am one of those "I knew them before" people) attacked her...via Twitter, no less (even though he was SO right, damn you Tony!)

But I understood.  I mean, Paula was kinda shifty/shady when it came to the whole diabetes revelation thing.  And Tony also reminds me of one of those angst-ridden "takes his craft so seriously everyone else is just a sell-out and I'm still edgy and holding on to my youth, man" people that I now, as a middle-aged ex-goth, want to punch in the face.  Grow up.  You are a sell-out. But at least I can admit that I admire you with no shame or embarassment.

Since moving back from the big city of Atlanta, back home, to my own Southern roots, and living with a VERY southern man, I've come to reevaluate a lot of things in my life.  I'm not nearly as cosmopolitan as I used to be.  I embrace biscuits and gravy, fried chicken, peach cobbler, all of that ultimately Southern "soul" food that would as soon stop your heart as look at you.

So Paula's recipes have come in quite handy.  That, I appreciate.

This whole new thing that's happening with her.  It is a mess.  If it is true that she said the things that she said, it is wrong, and it is offensive, but the woman did not lie.  The only difference between Paula Dean and a lot of southern women her age who live down here is that they are not in the public eye when they used that word.  My own grandmother, who spent the last years of her life in a nursing home being tended to by the kindest, most generous attendants on the planet, referred to them with such the same word.  Of course, she was in her 80s, and Paula is in her 60s, so is that an excuse?  No.  But it is a reality.

I agree that Paula should be called out for the things that she has said; she should know better.  And it pains me to know that things like this still happen; actually, I am quite appalled.  But not surprised.

Delving deeper into the whole affair, and reading Paula's transcripts, it is no better or worse than anything else you'd ever hear down here on a normal every day.  Take that as you will.

All I can say is that she is of the old school.  Not that that's any excuse, because there are also other people her age who were born and raised in the South who have realized the error of their ways, but then again, there are those that don't.  But I also feel that prejudice exists everywhere.  And it is not more predominant in the South; just a bit more reported.

But moving on:

I have mixed thoughts about Edward Snowden, and I my one wish in life is that I go out like James Gandolfini: good food, good wine, quick heart attack, boom, peace out.  And it kind of freaks me out just a little that he was only 10 years older than me when he did check out.

 My Mood Ring(tone) Of The Day:

Do not go gentle into that good night...

And I don't plan to, motherfucker.  Oh my god, I'm old.  I'm so old, I'm like, "what the fuck, you're over 40?" old.

No, I'm sorry.  I am not embracing the whole "grow old gracefully" theory.  I hate it.  I hate every wrinkle, every thinning and gray hair, every fat dimple on my body.

What brought this on is that one of my acquaintances in my former life in Atlanta just posted about how she turned 50...

.http://www.atlantamagazine.com/hollisgillespie/2013/02/01/scene-stealers

(BTW, I love her, she is hilarious, and you should check her out...)

But still...she just turned 50.  I don't know why this struck me harder than seeing Facebook pictures of my college friends sporting gray hair and having 20 year old kids, but it did.

Maybe because she's always been a role model of mine: slightly older, always glamorous, witty, and smart, and she's accomplished what I always wanted to in life...she's being paid for her wit and humor and writing ability and is still fashionable and beautiful and stylish.

As she well deserves, because from knowing her in the "old days", she's been through her struggles as well.  And she had the guts to hang in there through the struggles, and continue with what she was passionate about and is finally successful at doing something she loves.  Writing...for a living...successfully.

I wish in my younger years I'd been more self-confident, with a higher self-esteem, and the courage to just go for it.  But I didn't.

And so now I'm here...not a terrible life, but not a spectacular one either.

Incidentally, have you ever seen the movie "Defending Your Life"?  Because it is my favorite movie of all times and pretty much sums up how I feel about my existence on this earth.

Albert Brooks...you are the only one who gets me.

Pumped Up Kicks

Christmas was nice but over too soon.  I did manage to make it to my sister's for a very brief visit but it was awesome waking up and seeing the kids all get their Christmas gifts.

Of which there were many; you can read about that here and see a god awful pic of me as well. I am beginning to think that my sister is passively-aggressively taking out latent hostility towards me which is left over from my supposed torturing of her in our earlier days.  Either that, or she's just not a very good picture taker.  But I love her anyway ;-)

Work is still exhausting.   The Rottenator asked how I could be so exhausted from just sitting and talking on the phone all day and it's kinda hard to explain how mentally draining this job is to someone who doesn't understand it.  Hell, I don't understand what I'm doing half of the time...which adds to the exhaustion.  The best way to explain my job is to imagine sitting for 8 hours a day doing math problems.  Word math problems.  When you're not good at math.

Pretty much sums it up.

So, 2013 is upon us.  And I know, everyone says, "Oh, I'm not going to make resolutions; it's so stupid and predictable and everyone makes resolutions, so I'm going to be different and contrary and not make any."  Well, to those people, I say "fuck off, loser, stop trying to be contrary and different because now the fad is to NOT make resolutions so you're still a poser who's just trying to be different for the sake of being different."

So I'm making them. Because I'm edgy and cool.  I saw this on Facebook the other day and because I was having a particularly bad one where I doubted everything and was hating my life and questioning my existence on this planet and my purpose in life, I reposted it.

And though it may be cheesy and sentimental, I still feel that way.  It's the most difficult resolution of all, however, isn't it?

So, onto other ones, some more or less difficult, some more or less realistic and serious.

In no particular order:

• I'm still kinda serious about the 365 milkshakes taste-test in 365 days. Perhaps it will lead to a book deal and not the life-threatening diabetes which is probably the more realistic outcome.
• Lose (not loose, grammatical idiots) 40 lbs which is in direct conflict with the resolution above.  Also, eat healthier so I feel better and not sickly and tired all the time.
• Doctors appointments: mammogram, physical, gynecologist, dentist, top to bottom check out.  Bloodwork included.
• Celebrate my birthday at The Wizarding World of Harry Potter at Universal Studios.  I have not yet celebrated my fourth decade on earth as a monumental occasion, so I may as well make this the one.
• Start writing again; even if that means nothing more than updating this blog more faithfully.  It gives me a creative outlet and keeps my brain from stagnating.

So far, that's the list.  I'm not going to go crazy with it, because then I'll look back on it as a insurmountable, unachievable list of "things I will never accomplish so fuck it all!" and not do a damn one of them, so let's keep it simple, stupid.

So, less of a list of resolutions and more of a touchstone of goals that I need to keep focused on.  That works for me.

Mood Ring(tone) of the Day:

Sidebar: I know nothing of this band, or any of their other songs; I just know that Pandora played it on my station today and I must say: great job Pandora!  Usually the songs they pick for me at random are totally like, WTF, seriously?!?  How do you get Michael Buble from my stating that I like Oasis and Blur, but whatever...

This one was different, though.  Very catchy.  Foster the People.  I'm afraid to research them for fear of ruining my enjoyment of this catchy little ditty.

Update: of course,  I had to read up on the band. Good news: I'm still okay with them!  Better news: I found a song I like that's only a couple of years old.

Kinda funny: they played this song on the Vampire Diaries.  Which explains why I had visions of myself dancing around in my bra and underwear getting drunk with Damon Salvatore.  And why I looked like Buffy Summers.

Ooooh, another update: I'm suddenly 16 years old just looking at these two together.

Another resolution: get really hot, be 20 years old, and have a devastatingly handsome and dangerous vampire boyfriend. Noted.

Love and Hate

Stealing and slightly modifying an idea from one of my favorite bloggers, I've decided to create a list of things that I LOVE that other people hate.

1. Candy corn: it's dividing, I know.  You either love or hate candy corn.  I happen to love it. Even more than candy corn, I love the little pumpkins that are made from the same sugar, corn syrup with a little bit of honey (healthy!) sludge.  LOVE it!  
2. Mayonnaise: I order extra mayo on stuff.  I love it, can't get enough of it, don't care if it's unhealthy and fattening, I would slather that shit on a piece of cardboard and eat it if I could.
3. Cooking shows: Top Chef, Master Chef, Top Chef Masters, Hell's Kitchen, Kitchen Confidential, if it involves food and cooking, count me in!  Which leads me directly to:
4. Reality television.  My guilty pleasure. Not the normal "so you think you have talent well you don't so get the fuck off of my TV" shows, but stuff like Project Runway, Long Island Medium, Flipping Out, Real Housewives of Wherever, Say Yes to the Dress, Hoarders...I blame Bravo and The Learning Channel.
5. Cats.  Don't have any use for dogs, but I do love kitties.  Even the Nooge (aka my Katten) who is currently crawling all over me and biting and clawing.  He's lucky that he is occasionally sweet and often amusing...I guess it's his survival instincts kicking in or else he would find himself out with the trash.
6. Decorating for the holidays.  I will use any excuse to make anything sparkly, or light up, or glittery.  I would decorate for Labor Day if I could, but I'm not sure how to make union workers more festive...bedazzled hardhats perhaps?
7. Grocery shopping: the grocery store is my mecca.  It is my moment of zen, where I find my inner peace.  Probably because it's the only time I'm able to spend by myself with no distractions or annoyances like pets or fiances.  Also, I'm surrounded by my favorite thing in the world: food.
8. Citrus flavored desserts. I would choose a lemon pie over a chocolate pie any day.
9. Country ham: smells like week old road kill, but it is so salty, dry and delicious.  However, even I can only stomach it once a year (traditional Christmas breakfast!)
10. Cigarettes: yes, I've basically quit smoking, but I still miss it sometimes.  Not the smell, but the whole routine of it.  Which is why I have my e-Cig.  Though it's still not the same thing.  No matter how many different flavors I try (peanut butter and cake batter are two new faves), there is a relaxing sensation that comes with smoking a real cigarette that I still miss sometimes.  But not the possible lung cancer or emphysema that may eventually follow it.  I'll do just fine without those.

Not much more to say tonight; in fact, the above list was one that I started a few days ago and decided to go ahead and post as I don't have much more going on.  While the fall is definitely one of my favorite times of year, it also makes me melancholy for some reason.

My Mood Ring(tone) of the Day:

PS: Did I mention that I love Chris Martin?  He is funny and brilliant.

Sistahs Are Doin' It For Themselves

So, my sister and I decided to get our hair did this weekend (our respective hairs, we don't share one unfortunately, in this case).

My sister's ultra awesome, glamorous and professional do:

My homestyle...style(?)

Really?  And note the paleness...I'm surprised I even showed up on camera.  Needless to say, Feria to the rescue tonight...God willing...

Hopefully I'll take the towel off my head and look exactly like the girl above.

*sigh* But that's okay; whenever I start to feel really awful about myself, I just pull up this image and feel a HELL of a lot better.

Though I can't imagine Alyson Hannigan would feel the same...

My Mood Ring(tone) of the Day (in honor of my hair):

Though on second thought...this video is more appropriate to describe the mood of my hair...in that I hate every aspect of it...

Stolen Daily Affirmation

Lifted entirely from Blurbomat, but it's something I've been contemplating myself lately:

Daily affirmation:
All that stuff you thought was cheesy crap? It works.

Incidentally, that doesn't change the fact that I'm entirely too invested on what's going on with his other half which is documented here and here.

Why?  I have no idea.  I've come up with a theory however: it's an unfortunate side effect of human nature.  It's human nature to:

• Build someone up only to help tear them down for what you perceive as a flaw in their character, which leaves you feeling disappointed and betrayed.
• Enjoy a good comeuppance, aka "karma is a bitch and so are you!"
• Look at a trainwreck.  It's nearly impossible to turn away from someone who is clearly in self-destruct mode. 
• Engage in gossip, and expostulate endlessly on the different reasons as to how, where, when and why something happened.

 I could go on and on breaking down every nuance and factoid of this whole drama that's playing out across the bloggyverse, but the bottom line is this:

 I am incredibly, INCREDIBLY bored.

I've Been Dooced!

Never have I been prouder to be considered part of the "dregs of humanity" though I'm pretty sure people have thought that of me before.

Monetizing The Hate

Background: I've read this woman's blog since its inception 11 years ago.  I used to adore her.  She was witty, charming, beautiful, and insanely funny...emphasis on the insanely part, it turns out.

You know how it is when you follow celebrities (even quasi) for years, you think you kinda know them?  For lack of a better word, it's even more "intimate" when you follow a "real life" person, i.e., blogger, because they reveal a lot more of themselves, their daily family life, routine, etc.  You develop a weird kind of friendship, like, "hey, they're just a normal person like me!" where you feel like you know them because they aren't being driven around in limousines, dressing up for parties and premieres, shopping on Rodeo Drive, being followed by paparazzi.  They're driving their kids to school, dressing down in sweatpants, watching movies at home, and shopping at Kroger.  So, yeah, they become like your BFF, or at the very least, a neighbor that you're fond of.

The internet is such an odd place, isn't it?  So, anyway, yeah, I really admired Heather Armstrong, we were going through the same kind of shit, man.  Depression, body image issues, food issues, we shared a love of Britpop, the same conflicted feelings about religion (though she was Mormon, I was brought up Catholic, still families strongly rooted in the church), and the same bitchy sense of humor.

Then, things changed between us, Heather & me (there I go again!  Imagining we're pals).  In a way, it was cool.  I mean, this chick like me, really cool stuff was happening for her because of the power of her words.  She actually had a career and was supporting herself and her family with her website.  She didn't have to be a published author to be a successful writer.  I like to consider myself an amateur hack, so this was amazing to me, and I was really happy for her, and encouraged that something like that could be done.

Then, she became like, all famous, and stuff.  And started hanging out with supermodels, and hiring assistants, and getting committed into a mental hospital because of her postpartum depression, and finding herself in her garage staring up at a pipe thinking about wrapping one end of a dog leash around it, and the other around her neck, and separating from her husband, and so forth.

So I was like....Dooooooce.....really?  That's kinda fucked up, yo.  But the worse thing?  The most unpardonable sin?  Her website stopped being interesting.  About a year ago, it was pretty clear that she had lost all interest in the website, and that's cool, I get it, you have some measure of success, you've got other things going on, so say bye-bye...or at least be honest about it. I mean, you made your $ by being authentically open about the things going on in your life, so why quit now?  Or better yet, go ahead, and quit.  That's the part that must really suck, though, right?  I mean, it's pretty obvious she's been totally "over" writing her blog, but now she's got sponsors, and employees, and lawyers, publicists, blah, blah, blah, so she can't just up and quit.  She's got to phone it in somehow.  And it showed.

So, anyway, I was having a pretty bad morning myself today, and unable to vent my frustrations to the person who was actually physically in my face pissing me off, I decided to do the typically passive-aggressive thing and lash out at some, well, nonentity, really, and spew forth my anger. Oh, don't get me wrong, I meant every word of it. 

And by that, I mean EVERY WORD.  Not just the part that she decided to copy and paste in order to make herself look better because everyone was being a big ol' meanie.

The quote on the page that was mine is as follows (in part):

Maybe she’s emotionally and physically exhausted because she finally caught a glimpse of the trainwreck of an interview that she gave on the Today show…twice. My god, it was embarrassingly bad, I actually felt sorry for her for the first time in like…um…ever.
Poor thing. My body would probably shut down too if I had to carry around a head and an ego as big as hers.

 The entire quote as posted on Get Off My Internet is as follows:

Maybe she’s emotionally and physically exhausted because she finally caught a glimpse of the trainwreck of an interview that she gave on the Today show…twice. My god, it was embarrassingly bad, I actually felt sorry for her for the first time in like…um…ever.
Poor thing. My body would probably shut down too if I had to carry around a head and an ego as big as hers.
I see that she’s finally opened up the comments again for this post; probably so she could hear a bunch of “Aww, Dooce, you do whatever you need, honey. We still <8 you”! Maybe I should comment there too, except that I’m sure it would be deleted because I’m being such a JERK.
And yeah, this is from a loyal reader who’s been following along with her for 11 years, and continued to enjoy her up until the last year. She should have ended the website when it reached its first decade because Dooce.com is now kind of like a television show that continues to struggle painfully along because it’s a money maker until it dies a slow, painful, agonizing death and makes you forget what made it so wonderful in the first place.

See what she did there?  Kinda left out the last two paragraphs, which actually were not as harsh as the first part.  My valid points were completely left out, dammit.

It's such a bitch being edited without prior approval.  But I guess so am I.  And oh, yeah!  Internet recognition, baby!  I'm such an attention ho.  :-)

Death + Celebrity = Instant Sainthood

Really, people?  And by people, I mean all of you guys on Facebook.  Just because some washed up, let's face it, crack-addicted has-been dies, she's a martyr.  Why?  Because she was given a (in the opinion of some, not including me) voice and could carry a note at one time?  Whitney Houston was a trainwreck.  I couldn't stand her when she was alive, I certainly think no better of her now that she's dead.  Amy Winehouse had a god-given talent too that she wasted, and at the time, everyone was like, "Well, abusing substances like she did, she deserved it."  Well, so did Whitney.  Who also committed the unpardonable sin of pronouncing it "ax" instead of "ask"...repeatedly.

So, let's all take a moment of silence...before watching the video below which confirms the fact that Kathy Griffin is one funny chick.