Humor, Linkstorm, Weekend

Friday Linkstorm (I should probably start numbering these…let’s call this one VII)

“What is a weekend?”
– Violet, Dowager Countess of Grantham

That blasted cold is making a comeback.  Thank Jupiter, Odin, and Quetzalcoatl it’s Friday.  I intend to spend it looking at all the places J. and I want to live and using my Peregrine-given resume and cover letter skills to wage a campaign of job hunting.  That an a few phone calls to J. and the girls.  And perhaps chicken soup and orange juice.  Anyway, here’s your Friday fun, minions.  Aunty C. love you.

I like the Keep Calm posters as much as the next girl (although, it’s meme-like status does tend to over saturate one), so here’s the history of it.  The more you know, kids.

Here, enjoy one of the more ridiculous tales of naval warfare (warning, Cracked can be rated PG13 – though really Small Dog Syndrome is not intended for the consumption by small children, pets, sensitive maiden aunts, or faint-hearted pearl clutchers.  They can read Teletubbies Weekly.)

Words cannot express how badly I want this in my house.

In continuing women’s politics news, oh hell no.

So, I’ve mentioned that I gave up being lazy for Lent.  I have, and let me tell you, it’s invigorating!  But strangely, even though I’m wasting less time, I didn’t feel any busier and I was wondering how that worked with the space time continuum.  Normally when I take on more projects, I feel it.  And then I read this article and realized that the problem wasn’t that I was lazy, it was that I hadn’t been using my time as meaningfully and I wasn’t being honest about how much time I spent on things.  So, my goal still holds, but I’m incorporating some of Vanderkam’s language: I’m not just giving up being lazy, I’m owning up to how I spend my time.  Also, Peregrine, I’d very much appreciate it if you’d ignore that sentence of her’s in the last paragraph…you know the one I mean…

The 35 best shoes from the European fashion weeks.  You’re welcome.

Everyone knows the Brothers Grimm, right?  Well, they were not the only Germans out collecting fairy tales!  An archive of over 500 fairy tales has been found in Regensburg – somewhere Disney executive are hugging themselves and planning their next century of cinematic projects.

And here’s the late, lamented Victor Borge proving that funny is everywhere – even the noblest cultural institutions.

Friends, Home, Humor

Scene From Last Night

“It’s the friends you can call up at 4am that matter.”
– Marlene Dietrich 

“Why are you still up?” Margot demands.
I wave a frustrated hand at my laptop, “Because I’m working on this cover letter.  My resume’s in working shape, thanks to Peregrine, but this is the first time I’ve had to write one of these.  I’m making a pig’s ear out of it.  Wait…why are you up this late?”
“Wedding stuff.  My wedding planner came by and the meeting took three hours.  We’re not seeing eye to eye on the color of the cake.  I also had to strip down in front of a strange man.”

My eyebrow inches up.  “I imagine that wasn’t nearly as fun as you’re making it sound.”
“Nope,” Margot yawns, “gown measurements.  I only sound perky because of the chocolate I’ve been scarfing down to get by.  What time did you get home?”
“10:30.  What time is it now?
“12:30.  Yikes.  How’s work?
“FBI’s coming to town, I’m organizing the event.  You?
“Parent Teacher Conferences.  Any development on the cover letter?”
“Not much.  Made a decision on the cake?”
“Lord, no.”

[Pause]

“We,” Margot strikes a pose, “are warrior poets.”
“Damn straight.”

With only slightly less impressive hair.
Friends, Humor

Good. People.

But if the while I think on thee, dear friend,
All losses are restored and sorrows end.
~ William Shakespeare

Today’s pontificating will be on the subject of friendship, kittens.  I admire each and every one of the people I call friends, fiercely.  But occasionally even I am blown away by how wonderful they can be to me and others – I’ve recently been on the receiving end of a lot of wonderfulness, hence this post.

Running through the roll call in my head, a few things stand out about the women in my life:

All of my friends are self motivated and proactive – sure they’ve had setbacks, sometimes major ones, and frustrations, but they kept moving forward until they were either through their troubles or had a good handle on them.

Venice lives in the Midwest in the area that has been ravaged by tornadoes recently.  The storms struck minutes before school was out so she was managing children and panicky adults for a while before seeing to her own safety.  We’ve been playing phone tag for a couple days now, but she’s safe and well.  She’s also out volunteering with the cleanup along with her husband and friends, and has been since day one. She didn’t hesitate, and never has hesitated, to try and make things better for other people.

My friends have personal problems that run the gamut from family issues to medical complications but none of them define themselves or allow themselves to be defined by their personal challenges.  They are complex, vibrant creatures who do not allow anyone (including themselves) to be pigeonholed by a single facet of their lives.

Marie is still recovering from her car accident and her health is still nowhere near where it should be.  She still managed to move herself to the East Coast sans husband who is off at basic training, whilst recovering from a recent surgery.  Can anyone say, “Gumption?”

My friends help their friends out.  Sure, every single one of us has been in the doldrums at some point but we don’t let each other stay there for longer than is healthy.

When I confided to Peregrine how ridiculously intimidated I felt about the prospect of having to job hunt again when we figure out where we’re going to settle, she listened, offered her normal sage advice, and then did a tear down on my resume to demonstrate how to tailor it to a specific job.  Quickly followed up by an email offering practical suggestions on how to write a killer cover letter.  (Believe it or not, the only other time I got any information on this sort of thing was during a half hour seminar freshman year of university.)  All this came wrapped up in sisterly encouragement and a drill sergeant’s understanding that if you want to do something, the best time to start it now.  “Get me a draft tonight.”  “Ma’am, yes ma’am!”

My friends motivate and encourage one another.

Scarlett knows exactly which carrot will make this pony run – literally.  She combined a Christmas present with a New Year’s motivational gift in the form of a J. Crew cardigan with the promise of another if I stick with it.  I’ve exercised at least six days a week ever since.  She also encourages my writing, critiquing ideas and applauding enthusiastically at a short story publication after months of work.  She asks for my opinions on her own writing, I had the privileged of helping to edit a novel manuscript of hers, and she bounces life decisions off me regularly, often with requisite paperwork.

My friends are not defeatists, they are tenacious and driven.  They are not selfish, they are warm, loving, and inclusive.  They are not petty and narrow, they are magnificently broadminded and hungry for more.

And I, ducklings, am a very lucky woman.

Surround yourself with good people, your life will be rich beyond measure.

Humor, Linkstorm, Weekend

Friday Linkstorm

“I’m not at all fully granola.  But I am a bit crunchy, politically speaking.”
– C.

Women’s Politics edition, with food!

I occasionally tease you with politics, ducklings, but I’ve recently been a bit gobsmacked by the politics of gender and sexuality.  Here’s the ever fabulous Caitlin Kelly’s take on Rush Limbaugh’s latest verbal spewing and how misplaced the latest conflagrations on women’s reproduction rights (largely orchestrated, chaired, and debated by men) are compared to some of the other things our country is dealing with.  Limbaugh gives me heartburn, I long for the day he’s taken off the air.

From birth control to motherhood, here’s a piece, “Losing the (Term) Baby Weight.”  No plans on spawning in the foreseeable future, but I’m still digging the sentiment that a new body, changed by huge experience and personal change is “substantial and meaningful” and not something to be hated or worked against.

And straight through to childhood.  Ah, my youth!  Dressing up in cute little uniforms, camping, selling cookies… participating in back-street abortions, promoting alternative sexual lifestyles.  Man, second grade was awesome!  Puh-lease.  This is a week old story, and the gentleman in question has since said he regrets his letter, but I’m still hopping mad about it.  For your consideration: here’s a picture of me, destroying Western Civilization, aged six:

Pictured: subversion.

Did you know that this is National Eating Disorder Awareness Week?  I have two friends who either have or are recovering from eating disorders.  It can be a complicated to understand and to be supportive, but the best place to begin is by educating yourself.  Here’s a good post to start, for some information about awareness and personal insight into the complexity.

A long lost short story by Charlotte Brontë has been discovered.  With nary a Byronic hero in sight!

Grilled cheese sandwiches have always been my favorite and I love experimenting with different cheeses, breads, and spreads.  If you’re an addict like me, here’s a couple of types to try if you’re brave enough.

Janssen’s homemade ranch dressing recipe contribute to my goal to buy and eat less processed food.  Thanks, as always, m’dear!

And talking of food, would you use this?

And that, as they say, is that!  What are you up to this weekend, kittens?  Margot and Wrench are checking out wedding venues (she’s already bought a dress and it kills me that I can’t show you guys pictures!), I’m taking on some shopping assignments for J. (a sacrifice, my dears, but the things we do for love), and I’ve got a godfamily dinner on Sunday.  Apart from the weather, which turned snowy and cold very suddenly, I’m happy as a clam.

Humor

Mature and Dignified Follow Up

“She is popping that thing like a prep pops his collar…”
– Margot

It’s officially infamous.  I knew there was something off about that leg the first time I saw it, and now we know why:

See? Two of those and she should be squatting behind the plate yelling, "Hey batta' swing!"

But now everyone (at least on the internet) is doing the Angie’s Right Leg!  Second to the Bayeux Tapestry, this may be my favorite meme in a long time.

Fops are doing it.
Aliens are doing it.
The Almighty is doing it!
Da Vinci is doing it!
But best of all, you know the Dowager Countess is doing it!

Mature, quality, thought provoking (*snort) posting will return shortly, minions, but in the meantime this is just far too funny.

Fashion, Humor

Dress Debate

“As a general rule, I don’t plan to travel with my Oscars, but we may have to make an exception.”
– Paul Higgins

Are you sitting comfortably?  Then let’s begin!

I can already tell that there’s going to be some debate about the gowns from this year: there were few gowns that were outright offensive so most everybody is going to like something that their best friend hates.  Across the world tonight, girlfriends are choking on chips, spraying their drinks across living rooms, and demanding of one another, “Are you serious?!”

Ah, que sera sera.  Taste is a tricky biscuit and it can be even trickier trying to make up your mind on whether or not you like something, especially while celebrities are being passed around like hors oeuvres.  Share you thoughts in the comments, minions, and let me know how violently you disagree with me.  Or, alternatively, back me up.  That’s fine too.

The Good

– Mila Jovovich in Elie Saab, looking elegant, a la Old Hollywood.  It’s sad when a presenter looks better than several of the nominees.
– Rose Byrne in Vivienne Westwood, very much New Hollywood in slinky black.  Although, honey, you should really lose the earrings, they do nothing for you.

– Olivia Spencer in a ravishing Tadashi Shoji looking elegant and ladylike, and itching to snatch up that Best Supporting Actress, which she totally deserved.
– Emma Stone in Giambattista Valli Haute Couture.  I like to think she wore this dress because someone told her that she couldn’t pull it off with her coloring and she said, “I had a really great green dress picked out but y’know what?  Watch me, wenches!”  Also, I felt bad for subjecting you to so many black and white dresses.  But clearly not bad enough because speaking of…

– Sandra Bullock goes to her old standby Marchesa, and for a reason.  This picture makes the top look a bit wonky, and anyone who wants to claim that Marchesa over-embellished may do so, but I maintain Sandy looks fantastic.
– Ellie Kemper in Armani Prive.  Her hair and dress match and I hate this (as you will see later on in this post, and you may point out my hypocrisy then), but I think the color is lovely.

The Meh/Tell Me What To Think

– Viola Davis in the first controversy of the night: this green Vera Wang, and longtime readers know that I love a good green.  I’m conflicted because the color is throwing me, it’s looking a lot brighter in pictures than it did on the TV for me.  Am I crazy?  I also don’t love what’s going on with her boobs.  Speak up, is the Small Dog team judging this one too harshly?
– Maya Rudolph in Johanna Johnson.  I had to show the back of the dress to explain why I’m not fond of it.  I loved the sparkly sleeves, I could even do the belt, but the back was over the top for me.  The assistant charged with taking the bedazzler away from the designer was clearly on a coffee break.


– Berenice Bejo in Elie Saab.  I wanted to like this more than I did.  I thought the hair was fun and the clutch was lovely, but I can’t make up my mind on whether or not the color suits her, mostly because her face seems significantly differently shaded than the rest of her…
– Gwyneth Paltrow in Tom Ford.  I don’t hate it and Margot’s screaming, “Stormtrooper!” at the screen.  Neither of us want to be responsible for this one so I’m throwing it to you.  Capes: In or Out?

– Angelina Jolie in Atelier Versace.  I usually love her choices, but there’s something off about this one.  The proportions maybe?  The bunching of the velvet?  The way her hip seems to be completely out of joint in this picture combined with that feral smile?  Make up my mind for me, darlings.  I think she’s a Scarlet O’Hara for the 21st century: velvet drapes, no thread, 10 minutes, voila.  Which isn’t of course to say that it’s bad.  The bad follow here…

The Bad

– Stacy Keibler (who I could not find a solo picture of, but that’s fitting since her entire job here is to be Clooney’s arm candy and try to bring him luck by dressing like an actual Oscar award) in Marchesa.  This could be pretty on another of Clooney’s flavors of the month, but her skin, hair, and frock all match.  Unacceptable.
– Glen Close in a badly fitted Zac Posen.  And drat, I’m torn on this one too.  It’s looking a lot better in this picture than it did on the red carpet.  Still don’t like it.

– Rooney Mara has been campaigning for this Oscar in character all season, no one will be less surprised than me if it turns out she’s actually the preppiest, frilliest, laciest girl that ever was.  But back to business, she’s wearing a Givenchy that has its good points, but (a common complaint tonight) does weird thing to her boobs.  Watching her move down the carpet was painful, it looked as if she could barely walk in it.
– Melissa McCarthy  in Marina Rinaldi. So close, should have lost the cape (capes and boobs, tonight, who knew?), would have upgraded this significantly.

The Ugly

– Mary O’Donnel wearing who-gives-that-thing’s-hideous!
– Michelle Williams.  This is another one that I expect to be run out of town for: I know peplums are all the rage, but I the layers of fringe just don’t do it for me in this Louis Vuitton.  Margot concurs – “Peplums are the devil!” are the words I believe she used.

My Personal Favorite:

Jessica Chastain in Alexander McQueen.  Shutting.  It.  Down.

Humor, Linkstorm, Weekend

It’s Friday, I’m In Love

“Weekends don’t count unless you spend them doing something completely pointless.”
– Bill Watterson

It’s Friday afternoon and I’m ready for the weekend!  I had a bad time of it yesterday because short work weeks always throw me off and I spent all of Wednesday evening convinced it was Thursday night and saying to myself, “One more day, C., one more day.”  Reality reasserted itself around 9pm and poisoned all of Thursday for me.  But it’s alright!  This weekend I’m going on a small adventure and Sunday evening we get to pull up a seat, drink a cup of tea, and ferociously judge pretty dresses together – one of my favorite activities with you, well-beloved minions.

So, until then, let’s see what’s been going on around the world and cherry pick a few things for you, eh?

Russian scientists have apparently taken an Ice Age seed and brought it fully to flower!  Next up, reviving that mammoth they found in the tundra a couple years ago.  Wasn’t there a bad 80’s movie along these lines except with Neanderthals?  Science!

Apparently facial recognition technology has taken the inevitable leap – advertising (coupled with social activism).  Wasn’t there a bad Nought’s movie along these lines except with clones?  More science!

This explains my neighbors’ mid-night, ah, activities.

6 Reasons to Carry a Handkerchief, from The Art of Manliness.  I should really buy J. some at some point, I remember stealing my dad’s all the time as a girl.

Hands down the fanciest thing I make for semi-regular consumption.  Between this and my gourmet mac-and-cheese recipe, I can fool people into thinking I’m some sort of culinary genius.

And that, as they say, is all, folks.  Again, you are all required to report for Snarky Fashion Commentary Duties, this Sunday night.  Wear your comfiest pajamas and we’ll see you there!

Humor

Giving Up
“At one time I smoked, but in 1959 I couldn’t think of anything else to give up for Lent so I stopped-and I haven’t had a cigarette since. “

– Ethel Merman

With J. gone, most of my friends moved far away, many of those who remain going through their own trials, cooking for one, a relatively empty house, and (the final straw) this lingering cold, I’ve gotten lazy, kittens.  Horribly.

So, I’m giving up being lazy for Lent.

I am going to be a bit more purposeful this season, a bit more proactive, and I am going to spend a lot less time horizontal and near comatose on the couch.  I am going to make a concentrated effort to see more of my friends and family, take on a few tiny projects here and there, and pay better attention to my overall health.  More books, less TV.  More vegetables, less junk.  You know.  The usual.

Anyone else giving something up for the good of your souls/psyche/mental state about this time of year?

Home, Humor, Weekend

Can’t Get No Satisfaction (or “Dad, Skip This One”)

“Never go to bed angry.  Stay up and fight.”
– Phyllis Diller

I’m grouchy, I’m tired, and I’m going to overshare some more.  Brace yourselves.

You can always tell who is new to our apartment building.

If only...

The astute learn early that the walls are paper thin and everyone can hear everything that is going on next door (or above, or below), and most moderate their behavior accordingly.  The newlyweds learn quickly that the whole building may be treated to their sexcapades if they aren’t careful and move their bed away from the creakiest of the floorboards and try to somewhat muffle their, ah, enthusiasm.  Families learn to keep their fighting relatively civil, lest the whole building hear their business.  The Girls Next Door have learned that not everyone appreciates their impromptu dance parties – especially the couple beneath the with the new baby.

The obtuse take a while longer, to the amusement/annoyance of their neighbors.  My Lord and Lady Stompington never learned, and their departure is regretted by no one.  While my Lord and Lady Beepington’s peculiar conjugal habits became legendary through the complex.

But because the frequency of tenant turnover is so high (we’ve been there nearly three years and we’re ancient by lease standards), no one stays for long.  The Beepingtons were replaced just a week ago by a newlywed couple who, I suspect, are going to take a while to learn the ropes.

Sunday night Margot was out of town visiting her fiance and I was still doing battle with the never ending cold, so I’d turned in blissfully early.  Only to be woken up by the new neighbors going to bed.  Angry.

It was 1:30am, and apparently the perfect time for a fight.  And lucky me, I got to listen to it as it got more and more heated.  They slammed closet doors and banged dresser drawers as they traded accusations.  Not really knowing them, I assumed that reason would reassert itself, they would realize the time and that their altercation was probably at a decibel displeasing to most and leave it till morning.  I was wrong.

Half an hour into it my inner monolog had been hijacked by the feuding couple and I found myself thinking things like, “Be fair, that’s not what he said at all!” and  “Leave her mother out of it,” and “Now now, she has a valid point.”   After about ten minutes of that, though, I’d crammed a pillow over my face and was sending hate-filled thoughts through the ceiling and contemplating the ups and downs of charging upstairs an banging on their door with demands that they shut up.

Really, propriety? NOW?!

Believe it or not, I have a very well developed sense of propriety – kept in a functioning state mostly for the malicious glee of doing exactly the opposite of what it tells me to do.  But unfortunately this is the time it chose to assert itself.
“C.,” it said forcibly, “as aggravating as this is, there is nothing in my playbook for this scenario.  If they were flinging artichoke hearts at you across the table at a really good dinner party I might have something for you.  But 2am shouting matches on the part of perfectly nice but socially unobservant neighbors is, surprisingly, a new one.”
I was going to have to wait it out.

At about 2:30am, the conversation turned weepy with many protestations of change and improvement in the two parties’ attitudes and behaviors. ” Bully for you,” I sighed, and hoped that such talk meant an end to hostilities.

It did.

After a couple of minutes of lovely silence, however the sounds of, ah, vigorous amorous activities began.  “Sex isn’t going to solve your problems, kids,” I thought nastily and dragged my blankets over my head.

I hear you asking, “Why didn’t you just go sleep on the sofa, you complaining idiot?”  Two reasons.  First of all there was the principle of the thing: I was not going to be forced from my bed simply because they were using their for acrobatics.  Second, and more importantly, another of the fun features of our building is that in addition to thin walls, all of the heating and cooling elements are connected.  Through which sound carries.  The acoustics of the living room being what they are, things were actually louder out there.

The show ran for an encore last night, at about the same hours.  So now I’m horribly tired and more grouchy about J.-being-in-London-enforced-celibacy than usual.  Never say I don’t tell you everything, kittens.

Humor, Linkstorm, Weekend

Oversharing

“The internet is a great way to get on the net.”
– Bob Dole

Seriously.  I am baffled by how much snot the human body can produce – surely I should be comatose from dehydration by now.

This is me trying to make you laugh. My aunt skills have improved over the last three years, but only somewhat.

Too much information?  Ah, well, we’re close.  Here: ignore my overly loud nose blowing and look at some interesting things I found for you.  (I apologize for treating you like toddlers, easily amused by shiny, noisy objects, but a week-long cold is a terrible thing.  Indulge Aunty C. and smile at the jangling keys, alright?)

Italian artist Anna Utopia Giordano has a fantastic venture, the Venus Project, wherein she ruthlessly photoshops iconic images of the goddess to make them more in keeping with current beauty industry standards.  Botticelli’s Birth of Venus is one of my favorite works of all time, once while in Florence I bought a reproduction of it from a seedy street vendor and displayed it in my college flat (to the discomfort of an unbelievably prudish flatmate and her even more puritanical boyfriend – keeping them off-balance became a sport).  Seeing her reshaped really threw me.

Yo dawg, history is the shiz!  (I apologize for even attempting that…I can’t pull it off, even on the anonymous internet…  But history is.  The shiz, I mean.)

London tube humor.

You guys!  Downton Abbey stars out of costume!  The illusion is shattered.  Although seeing Ethel thus doesn’t really shock me in the slightest – that tart!  Perhaps now would be the time to brag/admit that when living in London, I got to see Michelle Dockery perform in her breakout role in Pygmalion at the Old Vic.  Believe it or not, I didn’t love her in it…  We all make mistakes, my dears, don’t hold it against me.

French parenting: superior to American or not?  Having had an overabundance of opportunity to witness American tourists growing up, I can admit that you can always pick them out in a crowd: they usually are the loud, misbehaving ones.  But my family may just be snobbish.  Weigh in and let me know which side you fall on.

Pintrest find of the week: this soup.  Ohmybleedingheavenstryitatonce.

Marie inspires me to decorate my Someday House with a gossip table.  I need a more elegant place to spend my hours long weekend calls to my girls than the corner of the couch J. and I bought on Craigslist.  This is a classy establishment.