Who thinks of this stuff?

Go on. Ask me about this picture. Clearly, they are mini fried somethings in a cup, but what are they ... really? Well, allow me to educate you.
These are the newest little bits of disgusting that are roaming the state fair food courts apparently. Let's break them down: Ping-pong-sized balls of batter made with Coca-Cola syrup that are deep-fried, then served in a cup, topped with more Coca-Cola syrup, whipped cream, cinnamon sugar and a cherry on top. Umm, gross. Of course, just the sight of them did make me yearn for a trip to the Arizona State Fair, but more for the other foodish delights, such as corn dogs and ice cream, then for these things. Yick.

A dentist and a car guy

Brian's never been much of a "car guy," but today, he impressed me. Okay, so it was just changing out the battery in the Rover, but still, I was pleasantly surprised.
So here's the story: Last night, we get in the car to head out to dinner, and B turns the key. "Click, click, click." Now me, I know what a dead battery sounds like. Brian's never had to bother though, and I know that probably, if we just jump it, the battery will be fine. Anyway, I was too hungry to deal with it at that point, so we went to dinner in the Jimmy, then came home and, just to be sure that was the problem, jumped the Rover. (Don't be surprised that once again, my roadside assistance arsenal came in handy. OF COURSE I have jumper cables in the back of my car!) The car started up just fine, and Brian decided he would head to an auto parts shop for a new battery this morning.
After the required starts and stops since neither one of us is a mechanic, we got down and dirty under the "bonnet" of the car, and B traded out the bad, crappy battery for the new one he bought. Yay! (Seeing him with his dirty hands and a bit sweaty from the effort made me kinda hot for him. I told him so.) So now, all is fine.
But tell me, can anything else go wrong with this car? I hate to ask and thereby jinx it, but jeez.

Beware: spikey blogger

Wednesday morning, 9:25 a.m. Frankie Goes to Hollywood is playing on the iPod.

ITEM!: Rush Limbaugh has accused actor Michael J. Fox of exaggerating his Parkinson's Disease during a political ad advocating stem cell research. Um, what kind of vile person is Limbaugh? I mean, we all kind of know that he's a dispicable on-air personality, but this latest attack against someone suffering from a life-threatening neurological disorder is ridiculous beyond the desire to just get numbers and people fired up. He's made some kind of half-assed apology, but the whole thing leaves a sick taste in my mouth. Did he miss the day at school when we all learn to think before putting our mouths in motion?
ITEM!: Madonna and her new adopted kid. Who cares. For someone who has such a stranglehold on her image, as she always has had, she's sure mucked up this public relations idea. Celebrities, celebrities, celebrities: just because it works for Angelina Jolie does not mean it will work for you. This flap of an adoption, including the kid's father making comments and the like, is a disaster. But how does one bail their way out? You can't give the kid back; just make the whole thing go away from my pop-culture atmosphere, please?
ITEM!: I have no desire whatsoever to see that new Borat movie. Is anyone interested in this film at all? It's fun that this actor has the country of Kazakhstan in a snit, but beyond that, the whole thing looks too stupid for words.
ITEM!: Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes have announced their wedding date: November 18. They'll be married at a secret location in Italy. I'll be watching my mailbox for the invitation.

How to wear footless tights

I know that I've commented on the return of leggings (or, for those new to this trend, "footless tights") before, but I saw something at Nordstrom yesterday that just made me shudder. Mom and I stopped to buy some socks, but right there, on the counter, was a pile of helpful little leaflets titled, "How to wear footless tights, Fashion 2006." The leaflet was produced by Hue Legwear (I must be sure to attribute it properly), and is cute and colorful enough to tempt even me to read through it. Of course, I was so appalled by the mere mention of the tights, and how to make them cool, that I had to reproduce the eight ridiculous suggestions here on my blog, for you.
1. Make the transition into fall a breeze by layering a pair of HUE ankle-length footless tights under your favorite flirty dress.
2. For a downtown look, pair HUE footless capris with slouch boots, a short skirt and cropped blazer.
3. Make a savvy fashion statement with HUE footless tights and ankle boots under one of fallÂ’s chic trapeze-shaped dresses.
4. Flash back to the rockstar 80s with HUE black lace footless tights, a punk tee and funky mini. (I don't like the "flash back" reference here, but I guess I should reconcile myself with the fact that the 80s are two decades ago.)
5. For a modern layered look, belt a jersey tunic over a bright pair of HUE footless tights then slip on a pair of ballerina flats.
6. As the weather turns cool, layer on HUE chunky knit legwarmers over footless tights or opt for HUE cozy footless sweater tights. (They're bringing back legwarmers, too!?! What is this world coming to??)
7. For a sleek and narrow look, pair HUE ankle-length footless tights under a tailored military jacket.
8. Play up fallÂ’s menswear trend by wearing HUE pinstripe footless tights under your favorite Little Black Dress. (Because this is the only way to ruin the beauty and simplicity of the little black dress.)
So there you go, my friends. Run out and pick up some footless tights to wear to work, out on the town or just kicking around the city. I'll tell you that I saw four women and a few girls sporting the tights in the mall yesterday, and it hurt my heart.

After he's screwed the Wicked Witch of the West

Nope. There's no real explanation at all to post up this picture of dildos and vibrators, except simply to make you all think, "Why would she post up this picture of dildos and vibrators?" (These fun items were being set out on display for an erotic toy convention somewhere in Europe.) I thought they were kind of funny, for a couple different reasons. First of all, doesn't that green one on the left look like it could be the Michelin Man's? And the red, pink and teal ones in the middle look kind of like the Virgin Mary, don't you think? At any rate, appreciate the different colors, and really, how pretty they are. Leave one out on the mantel or coffee table, and someone may think it's art.

Old-man hands and a whip

So Mom's in town this weekend, which is why there was no post yesterday. We're in the midst of our last weekend ever of "just the two of us," which is both nice (as we are able to at least celebrate it), and not-so-nice (as it is the end of a fun era). So we did our shopping, ate our yummy food, and have more good stuff planned for today and tomorrow.
On the front page of Yahoo! this morning, is a photo of Harrison Ford, and the kindly notation that he feels himself fit to take on another Indiana Jones installment. My opinion? I say, no. Granted, Ford's still a good-looking guy, and I could never picture anyone else in Indy's fedora, carrying the whip. However, at 64, can Ford really pull off the stunts, action and, yes, sexiness, involved with the famously rough-and-tumble archaeologist?
As an example, I remember one part of the Firewall trailer that showed Ford leaping over a sofa and attacking Paul Bettany, the movie's antagonist. As he landed on Bettany, one could see Ford's hands grasp at him, and essentially, miss. It was the force of the jump that brought down the bad guy, not the hero's athletic prowess or abilities, really. Anyway, Ford's hands, in that moment, were old-man hands. I can't see old-man hands flipping the whip or roughing up the bad guys anymore.
Of course, should all the stars align ... and by stars, I mean, Spielberg, Lucas and Ford ... and this movie actually gets made, I'll be in line to check it out. I wouldn't be a true Indy fan if I wasn't. I'm just a little concerned about how this will come together.

Holy canvas, Steve Wynn!

I love it when rich people mess stuff up and can simply say, "Well, at least that was my fault." Such was the scene when Las Vegas casino-magnate Steve Wynn accidentally punched a hole into a $139-million Picasso painting that he had just sold to a collector. Wynn's got some kind of degenerative visual disease that messes with his peripheral vision, and apparently, while standing next to the painting and gesturing at something else, he inadvertently brought down his elbow on to the canvas, puncturing it with a hole about the size of a quarter (according to witnesses).
Brian's question is a good one: does that make the painting more valuable, or less so? It is still a Picasso, and now it's a Picasso with more history. Conversely, now it is a ruined canvas. Art people of the world, educate me. I would say that, obviously, the sale was voided, and now Wynn is still the proud owner of one of the art world's biggest oopses, but I can be argued away from that stance.

Dead, but still a fan

Taking their loyalty to the grave. That's what some people will be able to do now, since Major League Baseball signed a licensing agreement with Eternal Image, a company that makes urns and caskets. Check it out, peeps. For your dying pleasure, you too can have a Boston Red Sox casket or urn to show your love for your favorite team. Tell me that this is not one of the coolest things ever. Other teams that have signed on so far are the Yankees (boo!), Phillies, Tigers, Cubs and Dodgers. The company is hoping to have all 30 teams soon, and then to move on to the National Football League, National Hockey League and NASCAR.
This, from the Associated Press article:
Susan Goodenow, an MLB spokeswoman, said the league and clubs have received requests for several years for urns and caskets with team logos. "Passionate fans express their love of their team in a number of different ways," Goodenow said. The National Funeral Directors Association is meeting in Philadelphia this week and giving its members a sneak peak of what the baseball urns will look like. Eternal Image says urns for the six teams should be available by opening day 2007, and caskets for those teams should be ready later in the year. The products have not been made yet and the exact cost has not been set. The Phillies urn was the first to be designed (pictured, to the left). Each urn will feature recognition of the deceased's passionate support, stamped with a message that says "Major League Baseball officially recognizes [person's name] as a lifelong fan of [team]."
Seriously, I think this is an awesome thing to do. I mean, you know how fanatical some people are about their teams. I see something like this going like hotcakes in Boston. And it makes for a less-creepy-looking urn on your mantelpiece.

1-800-Litterbug

Deputize me! Deputize me!
I hate litterbugs. I hate them with a passion, and believe that they are among the most reprehensible of the world's population. They go to the store and buy something to drink as they drive somewhere, and having finished said refreshment, throw the can, cup, bottle out their window and leave it for the ... the what? The trash fairies to pick it up? What exactly do they think happens to the trash? It's no different with cigarette butts, hamburger wrappers, receipts or plastic tops. Litterbugging people: you bought the stuff, hold on to it until you get to a trashcan, okay? What's so difficult about that?
This morning, as if in answer to one of my deepest vigilante desires, I read an article about states and cities that are deputizing their residents to report litterbugs. More than 10 states have set up call-in hotlines, empowering people like me to tattle on people like litterbugs, and let them know that, yes, they are being watched. Offenders in Iowa and Louisville, for example, receive a letter describing their offense, and something I champion, a litter bag for their car. Brilliant! Me? I think they should be fined as well, but apparently, since the police don't see it, no punitive action can be taken. (Here's hoping that will go into effect at some point.)
At any rate, these hotlines seem to really be working in the areas that have instituted them. According to USA Today, "Since Arkansas started its hotline, volunteers are picking up less trash along highways..." The Arkansas hotline receives about 600 calls a month, and the Iowa line gets about 100 calls a week.
One weekend, several years ago, a group of girls, while driving down to Palm Springs, called a litterbug they saw on the highway. The man tossed out a cup or something out his window right in front of them. Unfortunately for him, he had a company car with the business phone number on the side. The girls, quick with their cell phones, called the company and left a voice mail message for the offender. "Litterbug! Litterbug! Litterbug! We saw you throw trash on the freeway! Litterbug! Litterbug! Litterbug!"

May the recording begin...

Well, my friends, I finally got off my butt about it, and now, everything is right in the world. Yes, I'm talking about reinstating a DVR box in my house. Granted, it was motivated by my desire to record Heroes and Studio 60 tonight while B and I are out of the house.
I called Cox to set up an appointment time to have someone come by with the new box, and was pleased to find out that I could go to one of the company's convenient digital stores and trade it in today. So that's what we did! We've already set it up for tonight's recordings, and are super excited to have the technology back in our little house. It's wrong to love television that much--some would say--but with little else to keep me occupied, it's all good.

You can't call anyone from inside a tunnel

I'm really quite embarrassed. I don't know what to say. I'm sure that some clever turn of phrase or witty wordplay might make it up to you somehow, but really, I've just not been "in the mood" to blog much lately. (Obviously!) I'd blame it on the pregnancy, but I hate that, so will instead take full responsibility for my non-actions, and say, "Sorry."
ITEM!: So did you catch any of the Mel Gibson mea culpa going on at Good Morning America last week? Personally, I don't buy it. Drunk people say what drunk people think, and there is little evidence to support anything to the contrary. That's why it's so bad to drunk-dial people, or hook up with people after a night out, or get into any kind of booze-based fights or arguments with friends. The drunk person will ALWAYS say what is exactly on their mind, and everyone knows that. The not-so coincidence here is that Mel's new movie, Apocalypto, is coming out soon, and he wants people to go see it. (Disproving Brian's assertion that Mel's got so much money it doesn't matter if people go see his flicks anymore.) I love how celebrities are all contrite when it comes to publicity an re-shining their images.
ITEM!: Brian and I saw The Departed last week. It was really good! Several people got shot in the head, and I wasn't always prepared for it, but it was fun nonetheless. We needed our shot of Boston-ness, and we got it, complete with views of the State House, thick accents and Southie. But let me throw a wrench in the movie-making process for you for one quick second. No one, no one EVER, can get a cell phone signal in a T tunnel. No one. Don't believe it for a second.
ITEM!: Here is my October avatar. She's going trick-or-treating. Yay!!
ITEM!: The company that was cloning kittens has gone out of the business. Apparently, people would rather save some thousands of dollars and get a perfectly good kitten from a pet store, adoption agency or something along those lines. Go figure.
ITEM!: Let me drop a quick complaint about Bank of America. Did you know that, when opening a new checking account, the bank (or any bank, for that matter, it's a federal regulation) can hold portions of your money, deposits and the like away from your availability? They can "choose" to do this at any time during the first 90 days of your account. This bothers me, and for obvious reasons. I've got bills to pay, and not much money to pay them. I need every dollar in that checking account, and to find that B of A has decided to just hold on to $500 or so because they don't trust me is infuriating. I've not bounced a check; I've not given them any reason to think I might. They suck. Countdown to the end of this ridiculous 90 days began in August. I yearn for November.