Buckwheats R Us

A BETTER USE FOR BURKAS?

2008-07-25T10:49:00.000-07:00

I am always surprised by how much the U.S. prison system (and how it's run) tends to get my dander up. It's not like I'm close to anyone who's doing time, or even know anyone in the tank, for that matter. But I guess it serves as just one more reminder of what an inefficient and barbaric system we're running here. PRISON REFORM NOW, I say! DECRIMINALIZE DRUGS, I say! STOP GANG VIOLENCE, I say! But nobody really listens. Everybody just thinks I'm schizo...

Anyway, I was listening to a piece on NPR recently, about the problem of prison gangs, and how they always organize by ethnicity, and how the Blacks want to kill the Latinos, and vice versa, and then both groups want to kill the Whites, etc. Well, I have a solution for San Quentin and other prisons that are having this problem. (And, mind you, what prison isn't)?

How about requiring inmates to wear burkas? If inmates had to wear burkas outside of their cells, no one would be able to identify each other by race, or at least, it would be much harder to do so. It would help avoid the collusion that goes with prisoners being able to recognize and signal to one another. Almost seems like a no brainer, huh?

Some of you might be worried about civil liberties. Well, I don't think there's anything more liberating than NOT having to worry about being murdered in prison because you're the wrong color. There's really nothing undignified about it. If so much of the "free" female population in the world can do it, then why can't criminals serving time?

Others might raise the objection that inmates would easily be able to outsmart this system. Well, I'm sure some would, but it would make prison gang activity a hell of a lot more difficult.

You probably think I'm joking about all this, but I'm not. I know it might seem a bit extreme, but prison overcrowding and the state of our jails today -- not to mention the obscene amount of tax payer money that goes into maintaining the staggering prison population, while only creating a breeding ground for more violent offenders and never rehabilitating anyone -- is in and of itself extreme, and calls for drastic measures.

PLEASE VISIT MY OFFSHOOT BLOG!!

2008-07-23T14:04:00.000-07:00

Readers,

I love you all as much as ever, and that's why I'm taking you on a new journey... Please visit my latest blog, 12 Weeks to a Book Deal, at

12weekstoabookdeal.blogspot.com

Enjoy and please feel free to comment!

Thanks,
Olivia

WHAT'S IN A NAME? ASK THE CHRISTIAN RIGHT!

2008-07-14T11:30:00.000-07:00

Winner of the most uproariously funny piece of news this week goes to the far-right American Family Association and their ridiculous gaffe, in which they implemented a site-wide search and replace for the word "gay" (an inappropriate term in their nano-minds) with the word "homosexual." Enter Olympic athlete Tyson Gay (pictured above) whose name ended up
appearing in news stories on the site as "Tyson Homosexual." One of the site's headlines read, "Homosexual eases into 100 meter finals...."

Now, I'm just praying (wouldn't the AFA be proud of me) for an athlete with the last name of Retard to qualify for the Olympics. That would probably warrant a search and replace with, say, "mentally challenged," as in: "Mentally Challenged tumbles to success." Or maybe an athlete with the last name of Hooker. "Prostitute dives into qualifying round."
The possibilities are endless.

E. COLI OUTBREAK LINKED TO ANGRY VEGANS!

2008-06-26T09:05:00.000-07:00

A recent E. Coli outbreak in Ohio and Michigan has been linked to a group of militant, angry vegans who will stop at nothing to put meat-eaters out of business. Their nefarious plot entails picking off meat consumers one at a time, with the goal of achieving vegan world domination. Said one fired-up member of the group POV (Pissed Off Vegans), "We want to make eating meat a matter of life and death for big, fat, unconscious carnivores."

A spokesman for the carnivores, Chuck Cattleface, had this to say: "We know red meat is bad for the environment and our health, and we'd like to keep it that way. It's how we live on the edge without having to do extreme sports. Besides, if we gave up meat, what would we barbecue? Potato chips?" He concluded with a warning: "Those vegans haven't heard the last of us yet."

Stay tuned.

AH, BUSES...

2008-06-24T09:38:00.000-07:00

Dear readers,

I have something to admit to you and I'm kinda worried about what you might think of me but anyway here goes: I have a thing for buses. I just think they're so cute. And they remind me of different characters. Like Muni in San Francisco makes me think of Mr. Snuffleuffigus* (Snuffy for those in the know.) And most of the major metro buses seem to have a smile on their "faces" and a peppy countenance.

My bus crush is not indiscriminate, however. Certain buses, like those oversized coach buses:
really don't do it for me. And I have to admit, I feel completely platonic toward school buses too.

They just don't have those optimistic rounded bodies that make your heart melt. Know what I mean?

Didn't think so. But you'll just have to trust me on this.

* I had a really hard time finding a picture of Mr. Snuffleuffigus on the web. If you happen upon one, please let me know.

SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL

2008-06-19T12:10:00.000-07:00

You've probably heard that there are 17 students at a Gloucester, Massachusetts high school who are expecting babies this summer. Authorities believe the cause may be a "pregnancy pact" that these girls made last fall, in order to see who of the group could get knocked up. And apparently, one of the fathers is a twenty-four year old homeless man. Class-eh!

Maybe it's no coincidence that these teen pregnancies all happened around the time the pregnancy of now 17-year-old Jamie Lynn Spears was announced.

Now don't get me wrong: I'm all for teen pregnancy -- I mean, if you're part of a native tribe in Papau New Guinea, or if you've been given six months to live. But beyond those potential anomalies, what the hell is wrong with our retarded society??? And why do we deify White Trash "culture?" I feel like I'm gonna wake up in a few years and find that the U.S. has become a monarchy, with this guy as king:

King Tubolardo, of the United States, says: "Let them eat Big Macs!"

But seriously, not to sound like a feminazi, but how are women ever gonna gain equal footing in this world if a bunch of retarded mothers are telling their idiot children that it's okay to have babies at sixteen?????

I say, forget birth control in the drinking water, because nobody even drinks tap water anymore. How about birth control in the Big Gulp? Now there's one I bet the epidemiologists haven't thought of...

High Time for 21st Century Cliches

2008-06-13T11:11:00.000-07:00

So, I've been thinking -- I know, scary right? And I've come to the conclusion that it is time to update some of the shopworn cliches that continue to persist in our lexicon, and trade them for some more updated would-be cliches that better reflect our eight-year-old century. So, here's a little mini-dictionary I made to give you some examples. Feel free to perpetuate these, or, of course, make up your own!

OLD CLICHE: ................... NEW MILLENIUM CLICHE:

"I phoned it in."........................."I texted it"

(Cliche meaning, "I put no effort into it."
Has it's roots in the increasingly
antiquated method of communication
known as the telephone)

"Shit or get off the pot"..........."Press send or power down!"

(Roots should be quite obvious.)

"Keep me posted".................."Download me"

(Has it's roots in the
nearly-obsolete U.S. mail)

"She's a ho" .................................."She's a reply to all"

(has its roots in agriculture)

"What's the 411?" ................................."What's the RSS?"

(has its roots in the fairly
antiquated practice of "calling
information")

"I'm dialed in." .................................."I'm logged on."

(Again, rooted
in the telephone, meaning "I know
what's up.)

NELLY OLESEN DAYS

2008-06-06T11:20:00.001-07:00

Ever have one of those Nelly Olesen days? Those days where you would do just about anything to be her, feeling superior to everyone else and being mean to Laura Ingalls and faking your own paralysis? I know I do.

Sometimes I just want so much to hang out at my father Nels' (whom I was probably named after) general store and have my incredibly annoying mother Harriett overindulge me with candy as she practically comes busting out of the seams of her own corset and drives my father bat shit crazy. And then I just want to whip my perfectly placed Olesen ringlets -- yet another sign of blatant defiance -- around, and smirk at everyone who's less fortunate than me which, of course, means just about everyone.

The truth is, Nelly Olesen has gotten me through some really tough times, including colds, flus, and after school snacktimes, and has served as a reassuring reminder that I am, in fact, not the biggest brat in the entire world. I could always be worse... I could be Nelly Olesen.

And for all of that, I remain eternally grateful to Ms. O.

NO SHOES, BETTER SERVICE?

2008-05-22T12:16:00.000-07:00

I try to respect my body and let it act the way it wants to. We have a little dialogue going. If it's like, "I have a headache, please don't make me run today," I'll usually be like, "Well, is it just a passing thing, I mean, can you work through it? Or is it really bad, in which case I'll put you down for a nap." It's always a bit of a bartering session. Sometimes my body'll be like, "I want a slice of apple pie." And I'll counter, "How about 2 small cookies instead?" And then it's like "Okay, fine." Or maybe its, "Buzz off. I swam you a mile and a half today, the least you can do is feed me pie."

And even though I tend to be kinda competitive in most respects, when it comes to my body, I usually let it win. I just want what's best for my head, shoulders, knees and toes (knees and toes.) It's the only bod I've got--so far. We'll see where technology takes us in the next few years. But anyway, given my healthy regard for my personage, you can imagine my concern after reading an article last week about how BAD shoes are for you. That's right. And they weren't just talking about high heels. Sneakers are also apparently a deadly sin. Researchers concluded that, prior to the advent of shoes, humans had healthier feet. And now that we are so reliant upon footwear, our natural gait has gone to the dogs. Probably quite literally, because most dogs don't wear shoes...

Wanting to hold my feet in proper esteem, I decided I was going to make an effort to more thoroughly explore the world of bare feet. So yesterday, I ran through Santa Monica barefoot, and I noticed a few things in the process. First of all, I noticed that you have to watch where you're walking when you're trying to pull a Shoeless Joe Jackson. I did make one painful step onto a pebble, and onto the occasional (painless but messy) stray mulberry. But it kept me present. My mind wasn't wandering as much as it usually does.

Another thing I observed was how grounding walking barefoot actually felt, if a bit more effortful. And though it might have been asphalt and concrete rather than terra firma, I just felt there was one less thing coming between me and mother earth, and I dare say, it made me a little less flighty. Oh, and walking on the grass felt fantastic. There was definitely an element of euphoria in the proceedings.

What I also noticed was people looking at me in a different light, either like they thought I was a bad-ass, or, quite possibly, a vagrant. Or maybe both. But I didn't mind. I told myself, "I bet their gate isn't half as awesome as my gait." And, if they felt compelled to donate food or money, so be it.

As it is with most things, the jury still seems to be out on how harmful this shoe-wearing habit of ours really is. I've made a pact with myself (and my body) that I'm going to keep wearing shoes to restaurants and weddings. But I am going to continue to explore the concept of bare feet in public, for a bit of a break from the norm as much as anything. Won't you join me in walking a moon without mocassins?

TWILIGHT (ZONE) OF THE COWBOYS

2008-05-15T12:53:00.000-07:00

Lovely Readers,

I have been spending much of my
time weeping for the fact that
you have probably never experienced
anything quite like what I bore witness to last weekend. That's right--I'm still weeping and it's already Thursday.

The main thing is, I'm just sad at the
injustice that has led you to have never visited Pioneertown, CA.

Built in 1947 as a permanent old west movie set, with help from such illustrious
investors as Gene Autrey and Roy Rogers, the place still hops on the weekends, drawing visitors from as close as Yucca Valley and as far as Switzerland, who come, no doubt, for the camp.

On Saturdays and Sundays, the local "actors" put on an old west show that involves The Blackfoot Gang's plan to rob
a bank during a Wells Fargo rep's visit
to town on horseback. It's a highly original plot, and not unlike porn in the simplicity of its execution. My favorite part was, though the actors have been performing this very same show for the last twenty-some-odd-years, there was still no shortage of gaffes. But that, my friends, is the biggest part of Pioneertown's charm. That, and the incredibly potent margaritas and live music at the town's biker bar, Pappy and Harriet's.

Another major highlight was Pioneertown's only bowling alley, Pioneer Bowl, which at one time had old fashioned bowling with pin setters, but now claims to have the oldest "working" automated lanes in existence. I use the term "working" loosely, since only three of the six lanes were functioning, one of which broke down mid game. And word to the wise: Don't bother putting a quarter in the old fashioned pin ball machines, unless you intend to make a donation. But that, my friends, in case you forgot, is all part of the charm of Pioneertown.

It's a post modern time warp where you can get a taste of the idiosyncratic lives of the town's permanent residents--many of whom still dress like it's 1899--while drinking an old fashioned soda and helping the two gay guys next to you from Palm Springs score their bowling game, as the African American family sitting at the soda fountain looks on.

I can't help wondering what Gene Autry and Roy Rogers would have thought of all this. We'll never know for sure, but I'd like to think they wouldn't have had it any other way.

OVERSCHEDULED PETS...

2008-05-01T09:31:00.003-07:00

As if it weren't enough to be steering their kids into a jazillion after-school activities...

It seems people are no longer satisfied with simply pushing their children too far -- now, they're doing it to their pets. No longer is chewing on a bone, licking oneself, or pushing one's eggs across an arctic ice sheet enough. No siree. These days, pet owners expect more from their animals, in the form of a dizzying slate of extracurricular activities which include, but are not limited to, surfing, scuba diving, and open water swimming.

Why these cats, dogs, penguins, and other species seem to be pursuing so many water sports is unclear, but one thing is for certain: Animals are under way too much pressure these days, and it's adversely affecting everything else they do, from digging, to shedding, to playing with balls of string.

There was a time when domesticated animals had very little to worry about but mere survival. But now, with the advent of kitty salons, dog bakeries, and the gradual takeover of Hollywood by a small group of stealthy penguins, life has become way more complicated, and pets find themselves having to worry about their coiffure, their weight, and now, sadly, their athletic performance. So the next time you see a horse or an iguana playing raquetball or waterskiing, don't just laugh and take pictures. Have some pity on the poor creature and offer him or her a cold brewski and your copy of the latest John Grisham for Pete's sake... Or for Snowball's.

WHASAHAPPENIN' HOTSTUFF?

2008-04-23T14:38:00.000-07:00

Do any of you know who this man is? Well, my husband and I were accosted by a couple of British journalists on the street here in Santa Monica the other day, who were wondering the very same thing about us. They showed us several pictures of celebrities, asking us to identify them. I'm ashamed to say we did a pretty piss poor job of it. Of course, I I.D.-ed Victoria Beckham and a couple of others, but out of ten pictures, our track record was less than stellar. That is, until the piece de resistance came along: A photo of the above mug. I reached deep into my amygdala, activating my medulla oblongata, cerebellum, and of course, corpus callosum, before spitting out the answer. SPOILER ALERT! DON'T READ ON UNLESS YOU WANT TO KNOW.

"Gordon Brown," I regurgitated from somewhere in the deep recesses of the Responsible/ Politically Aware/Greeting Card aisle of my brain -- aisle seven, in case you're wondering. Well, you can guess what happened next. I glowed as these proud Brits congratulated me and took my picture. Yes I preened, and maybe even gloated, a little. Of course, they took my huband's picture too, but that was only because he failed to identify David Beckham -- can't blame him, the guy's a chameleon. But the whole point of the exercise, as it turned out, was to see what sorts of faces were in people's pictorial lexicon, and which weren't...

Anyhoo, all of this got me to wondering how many Santa Monicans, Californians, Nebraskans, and even Americans could identify ol' Gordy. My guess is, probably not a whole lot. And then, even though at this point my hippocampus was getting a little tired, I started thinking about how weird it is to come from a country where the entire world knows your leader. And despises him too, but that's another story. But I mean Britain is a pretty damn important world superpower, even if they do drink too much tea. So you would think their head of state would be somewhat ubiquitous in terms of the media, right? And a friend of mine, let's call her IRMA to protect the innocent, is a British citizen who's lived most of her life in the States, but still, didn't even know the name of the new British Prime Minister, let alone being able to identify his mug shot.

So this gives me a pretty good sense that we here in America are a bunch of ethnocentric, movie star worshipping dervishes who have very little idea that the rest of the world even exists. We're like the popular cheerleader, and the rest of the world is that nerdy little kid who's president of the academic decathlon, but will never get America's phone number. The thing is, that geek is probably going to grow up to be something great, and we, the cheerleader, are going to getmarried, have a few kids, and get fat. And then the hot, rich, successful nerd won't even give us the time of day, as we, America, devours bon bons peppered with tear salt in her locked bathroom, and pines for a parallel universe.

So there you have it. A little lesson on foreign policy, reduced to a John Hughes movie.

Log in next time, when I profile several obscure world leaders. Aren't you gonna be the most worldly thing on two feet?

A NEW EPIDEMIOLOGICAL NIGHTMARE!

2008-04-15T09:05:00.000-07:00

First there was bubonic plague. Then leprosy. Then AIDS. SARS. Bird Flu. Now, there's a new, highly contagious, even more sinister epidemic sweeping the world like a flash flood, leaving no one standing in its wake. And it is... The Bachelorette Party.

Sure, you can try staying out of panty stores, try not ordering any penis games on the internet, try staying home in a hazmat suit. But it will catch up to you. And when it does, there will be froofee cocktails, and there will be girl talk, and there will be the sharing of beauty secrets. That's right, beauty secrets. And the sad thing is, there is nothing you -- or anyone else -- can do about it.

Researchers at Chico State University have been scrambling to find a cure, but so far, have found no known antidote to this raging pandemic. Apparently, men seem to be immune to it, but they have their own emerging disease to contend with, one whose symptoms have not yet been fully explored, but which tend to involve lap dances, steak dinners, and glitter-stained faces. Any observation of these or other, similar behaviors should immediately be reported to the Centers for Disease Control.

SUMMER OLYMPICS GIVEN CHANGE OF VENUE!

2008-04-07T13:36:00.000-07:00

After global protests -- including major outcries in France and England -- over China's hosting of the 2008 Olympics, the International Olympic Committee has voted to relocate this summer's games to a venue with a more respectable human rights record: Guantanamo Bay, Cuba.

"It's a no brainer," said IOC Chairman Hein Verbruggen, in between bites of bratwurst with a heaping helping of sauerkraut. "There is already a built-in international community at Guantanamo. Folks from Afghanistan, Egypt, Pakistan, Iraq... we've got the works. Of course we will miss the Russians, because they always get their game on, but we will survive."

The question is, will the competitors? Most of the international community supported Verbruggen and the IOC's decision, until other, more unusual changes were made to the games, seemingly overnight. "We decided 'when in Rome,' so this year, we are changing up the events a bit," claimed IOC communications director Giselle Davies.

Davies added that new events would include waterboarding, genital electric shock, and being doused in menstrual blood. "I mean, gymnastics and equestrian are all well and fine," Davies explained, "but we've seen them before. Our sponsors are excited to finally have something we call "indifference-proof" to offer our spectators.

Responding to alarmed critics in his weekly address, President Bush tried to assuage concerns as best he could. "This is about sports, not politics," the President explained. "Gitmo has good ol' American infrastructure in place, it's in a beautiful setting, and let's face it, we all love arroz con polo a heck of a lot more than Kung Pao chicken."

Former Olympic gold medalist Kerri Strug had this reaction: "Electric shock? Compared to doing flips on a six-inch wide high beam for fourteen hours a day on a ration of two hearts of romaine, that sounds like heaven.

DRUG LINKED TO FEELING BETTER?!

2008-03-28T22:41:00.000-07:00

The FDA is in the process of investigating reports that Healthione, a new prescription cold medicine by the pharmaceutical giant Merken, is actually improving people's health. "We are very concerned," said a spokesperson. "Prescription drugs are supposed to have all sorts of terrible side effects: heart attack, stroke, diarrhea, acne, tender gums, sudden death, etc. The fact that this drug does not cause any sort of unrelated health problems is a serious cause for alarm. We're just waiting for the other shoe to drop... on someone's head."

Repeated attempts to contact Merken's corporate offices were unsuccessful, but one employee spoke anonymously. "Don't quote me on this because I don't want to get in trouble with the Feds, but we at Merken just feel that people should be able to
take a drug without having to worry about the risks of suicide, blindness, bad breath, and other serious inconveniences."

Many consumers, who claim that they would actually prefer a drug without side effects, are eager to sample Healthione. However, a Blue Cross representative stressed that any drug proven to work without side effects would absolutely not be added to the insurance giant's formulary. "It's too risky," explained the representative. "If people are feeling too healthy, they just might do something crazy... or maybe even stupid, like go for a brisk walk or drink a smoothie. And then what? Next thing you know, they don't even need us anymore. And we like to feel needed."

GUY HAS FOOD STUCK IN TEETH FOR 17 HOURS -- DOESN'T EVEN KNOW IT!

2008-03-20T10:49:00.001-07:00

After breakfast yesterday, consisting of an everything bagel with chive cream cheese, a Los Angeles area man spent the entire day with poppy and sesame seeds lodged into his front canines, along with a chive stuck on his upper left incisor. After making an important outside sales presentation for work, the man apparently posed for a publicity photo for his office newsletter, and then proceeded to go out on a scheduled blind date, without ever realizing the presence of said dental detritus. Upon arriving home from his hectic day, the man (whose name authorities have not yet released) discovered the evidence, and promptly lapsed into a coma. He is now in serious yet stable condition at a Santa Monica hospital. Donations in honor of the man can be made to fight this grave yet often overlooked cause, in the form of a check or dental floss, to the non-profit organization Humiliating Moments International.

STOP WORKING OUT-- WHILE YOU STILL CAN!

2008-03-05T09:53:00.001-08:00

A new study by the APCA (American Potato Chip Alliance) has found that exercise of any kind is actually quite harmful to humans. This, of course, negates many of the other research findings pertaining to health and physical fitness, but a spokesman from the APCA, Peter Corndogowski, stated, "Those other studies are misleading, since they're funded by all these fitness fanatics who can't seem to stay away from a gym for more than five minutes. Of course they're going to have a bias." A spokesperson from the American Council on Exercise denied the claim.

"Exercise makes you tired, sweaty, out of breath, and gives you sore muscles," claimed Corndogowki. "Besides, it also makes you miss your favorite TV shows, which can be an emotionally traumatic experience leading to a shorter lifespan."

Since more research is still being conducted, the safest bet for now, according to the APCA, is probably not to move a muscle unless absolutely necessary. And if for some dire reason, you do need to perambulate, do so extremely slowly, and with as little effort as possible.

SNOOP DOGG RECALLS BEEF IN SPIRIT OF EASTER!

2008-02-21T16:53:00.001-08:00

Apparently, the U.S. Department of Agriculture isn't the only one recalling beef these days. Snoop Dogg, (pictured above) who has carried a long time beef with a childhood friend (pictured in Easter basket in 1972, above) has finally come to his senses and decided to call off said beef, after realizing that a few

stolen easter eggs and a stuffed lamb just weren't worth ruining a friendship over. Said Snoop, "It's been eatin' at my heart for a really long time, know what I mean? I guess... (pause for tears) I guess I trusted that little boy, and he thieved me. He thieved me real bad. But I finally decided to give up my beef for Lent. And I'm glad I did. Now I can sleep at night. Well, not really, because he's still got a beef with me over a box of Peeps. But I'm hoping this beef recall will catch on." We hope so too, Snoop. We really do.

HILLARY CLINTON HAS FUN!

2008-02-21T16:30:00.001-08:00

BREAKING NEWS: Despite the recently released scandal about John McCain having had an affair with one of his staff, and despite the hooplah over Michelle Obama implying that she has only recently become proud of America, there is an even bigger scuttlebutt afoot: Hillary Rodham Clinton was reportedly spotted last night... are you ready for this? Having fun!

"Gone was her sinister laugh and John Edwards-aspiring haircut," said one onlooker. "She was sporting a Prada mullet and a skirt that showed off her cankles."

A campaign spokesman has vehemently denied the rumors. "Senator Clinton was absolutely not having fun," he said. "That is absolutely and completely untrue. She has never had fun, and she never will. In fact, she doesn't even know how."

Outraged by the gossip, Clinton herself spoke out this morning. "I am dismayed by these allegations. There is no room for such ugly aspersions in this race, or frankly, in the White House. When we have fun, the terrorists win."

Senator Barack Obama, who was at Build a Bear with his family, was unavailable for comment.

Dub-ya Forms Book Club!!

2008-02-15T15:46:00.000-08:00

President Bush posed with his book club after their inaugural meeting yesterday.

Never thought I'd see the day, but my Weekly Reader recently reported that, despite his busy schedule fighting terror and education, George W. Bush, our president, has somehow found the time to form a book club. Says White House Press Secretary Dana Perino, "The President realized that if he really wanted to get closer to the American people, he was going to have to take up one of our biggest national pastimes: reading."

According to Highlights for Children, President Bush's book club is highly exclusive, consisting of only five members: The President, three little girls in pink dresses, and Secretary of State Condoleeza Rice (not pictured.) Reportedly, the inaugural meeting entailed a discussion of bestselling novel "The Babysitters Club: Kristy's Great Idea, " by renowned author Ann M. Martin. Said President Bush of the novel, "My favorite character was Claudia, because she's a really good dresser--just like me--and she's also a minority which I think is really neat. I love minorities. Just ask Condi." I did, in fact ask Condi, and here's what she had to say, "I have no comment about anything Geo Geo--I mean, the President--may have said, but I did want to point out that the one disconcerting part of the book for me was that there was no apostrophe in "Babysitters. Please don't mention that to Georgie--I mean, the President. He just loved the book so much and I'd hate to put a damper on that."

Due to Homeland Security precautions, questions about the next selection for the President's book club were repeatedly denied by White House staffers, however, one unnamed source did share a small hint: Two of the words in the title include "God," and "Margaret."

PAMELA ANDERSON FINALLY LANDS ACCOUNTANT

2008-02-08T09:23:00.000-08:00

Just in time for Valentine's Day, Pamela Anderson has announced that she's finally, once and for all, eschewed her penchant for sleazy rockstars, in favor of a stable, level-headed accountant. Sources close to the actress soon revealed, however, that the accountant in question wasn't just any old pencil pusher. No, the PhD in Pammy's life turns out to be none other than chairman of the Federal Reserve, Ben S. Bernanke. Seen snuggling up to each other at library check out lines, Brooks Brother's tie departments, and in line at the bank, sources say the couple seems deeply in love. Says Anderson, "Forget Tommy, forget Kid Rock, they didn't know how to have a real conversation. They were too busy trying to make sex videos and drown little children. With Benny, he talks to me about interest rates, inflation, and he even buried his head in my boob and cried about the subprime crisis. He is so sensitive. That's what I love." She added, "And don't tell him I told you this, but sometimes he likes to dress up in my Baywatch bikini. It actually looks pretty good on him since we both have long torsos." Says Bernanke, "Pamela is so smart and yet so dirty. But that juxtaposition is what appeals to me. I'm working to get her picture on the new nickel." He then added, "I'm the envy of pretty much everyone over at the Fed. And Alan Greenspan's been sending me death threats. But I don't care. For the first time in my life, I've got a busty blond shiksa on my arm, and I'm just happy as a clam."

LOVING KINDNESS MY ASS!

2008-01-25T16:43:00.001-08:00

My sole New Year's Resolution for 2008 was to start meditating... Why? I guess I just feel like it could bring calm and peace to my life and stuff like that. That's what they say, anyway. So I went to a class/lecture that was on "Why Meditate?" and I realized this was going to be a LOT harder than I thought...

First of all, you're supposed to practice LOVING KINDNESS. That's right. You're supposed to love that annoying lady at the drycleaner and that homeless guy who always dumps everything out of your recycling bin. The list goes on. Because there are, what, about 6 billion people on earth right now? And you're supposed to love ALL of them?? One of the teachers there told me you don't have to love them as much as your family, and I thought, well that's a relief, sometimes it's a struggle just to LIKE some of them!

And there were other bumps in the road: Buddhism (or at least this flavour of it) teaches that ALL happiness comes from within. So then I asked the teacher, "If all happiness comes from within, then what's the point of having close relationships?" She had an answer for me, of course, which was that it was good practice for loving everyone else. Plus, she said, you probably have a karmic connection with your friends and sig-ohs. Hmmmm.... I see...

THEN, the teacher made the point that no one LIKES to be angry or unhappy. Well, I quite disagree on that point. People LOVE being miserable. And angry. And hell, yes, I'm one of them! Do I enjoy yelling at people, honking at them, cursing? You betcha! Does it silently take years off my life? Perhaps... But I don't smoke, I drink moderately, and I've never even tried cocaine. And, I floss! Nightly! So aren't I entitled to a vice? You don't have to answer that. In fact, please don't.

I don't know... I like a lot of the tenets of Buddhism, but when I get around some of the more devout followers, I can't help picking up on just another cultish vibe that I get with most any religious practice. I start to get self conscious. Am I sitting right? Am I breathing right? Do I seem sincere--I sure as hell hope so, because on the inside, I'm thinking, "Let someone into my lane in traffic? When hell freezes the fuck over!"

Does anything I'm saying make sense? Or are you about to throw me into the fastest vehicle available and rush me to the nearest monastery? Perhaps you should. Perhaps this has been a cry for help. Well, anyway, whatever it was, it's been a LOT of fun. I feel relaxed now. Strangely at peace. As though I've just.... meditated. Ohhhhhhhmmmmmmmm.....

...ANYONE STILL WONDERING WHAT'S WRONG WITH OUR COUNTRY?

2008-01-18T08:32:00.000-08:00

Maybe it's just me, but I guess I really don't feel comfortable seeing the "president" yukking it up with King Abdullah of Saudi Arabia. I know they're like, BFF and everything, but it just seems to me that in a country where a teenage girl gets sentenced to lashings and jail time for being gang raped, maybe Georgie boy should try not to be having so darn much fun. I know, I know, he has to suck up to Abdy, since that guy's got all the precious oil we need and everything, and it would probably look bad if Bushy whined and said, "i'm not gonna come out to play in your country 'til you be nice to girls." I mean, Bush has a wife and a mother (or is she his grandmother) and two daughters. How can even that Australopithecene stand for such behavior? I'm no feminazi or anything, but I would bet my entire $305 dollars that if some man had been treated abhorrently in that country (unless of course, we were mistreating them ourselves at Guantanamo Bay--that would be different) and it made the national news circuit, that Bush wouldn't have posed for that prom picture with King Abdullah. He might not have even shown up.

All I'm saying is, maybe taking a stand for women's rights in medieval countries like Saudi Arabia might be a step in the right direction of encouraging freedom and democracy. It might be a little bit cheaper and more effective to defend women than to make threats, search for non-existent nukes, and drop bombs. And even if it were somewhat incendiary to stand up for the female species in a place like that, wouldn't defending women be an inherently more worthy cause than all of our other flame-fanning efforts thus far?

The funny thing about the picture is -- other than the fact that Bushy is holding a sword, and where's Abdy's gift from him by the way?--is his posture. Because, while he's holding one sword, his posture makes him kinda looks like he's got another one up his bum. Nah' mean? But my BIG question is, with all of the tightened new homeland security and TSA regulations, how did Bushy take that sword back with him on the plane? And more importantly, does he have to go through security in his socks like the rest of us?

DESYNCHRONOSIS

2008-01-06T15:26:00.000-08:00

Yes, I might as well get it out in the open... I have been diagnosed with desynchronosis. At the moment, it really seems quite serious. I hope I will recover...
Is it worse than ADD, OCD, or any other sort of D? Well, in the long run, no. It's actually just good ol' fashion JETLAG. And I've got it bad, having just returned from Vietnam, Cambodia, and Japan.

I wish I could take a picture of my tired self to share with you right now, but the sad truth is, we broke our lovely camera on our first day in Vietnam, and I've been subsisting on horrible disposable cameras ever since. But just picture me for yourself: Droopy eyelids, sunken eyes, permafrown, slightly hunched over... Yup, that's me. I thought we were on schedule last night when we went to sleep at midnight, but then, when I awoke at three o'clock this afternoon, I realized just how wrong I was.

Goddamn international date line!

So I'm gonna ride it out and hopefully--though they say it takes a day to recover for every time zone you cross--I'll be back in action in a few days. And at that point, I will offer you a MUCH more coherent blog post. Until then... Goodnight!

GRASS ON THE DASH!

2007-12-19T11:47:00.000-08:00

Dear Readers,
I regret to inform you that this is not a post about any sort of illegal drug activity. I just thought I'd share with you a new way to make your car more ecofriendly... And no, it may not be as impactful as converting your ride to biodiesel, but it's a start.

It's a mobile planter (see pic above) with a suction cup that sticks to your car window or dash, so you can have a plant with you in the car at all times. You can grow whatever you want (wink wink, nudge nudge) and it will also give you a living thing to talk to when you're driving solo. (Of course, I'm sure you always carpool, but just in case.) I actually really enjoy talking to my plants at home (Mildred, Henrietta, and Betty) so I'm just excited to be getting a new mobile friend from the flora camp. Maybe we'll even play a little good cop, bad cop as we cruise around. I was thinking I might call her Midge. Or maybe Josephine... What do you think?

P.S. You can go here to pick up one of your own.

WANTED: NEW BEN STILLER

2007-12-11T14:06:00.000-08:00

Whaaa? Tired of moi??

Are you a bit tired of Ben Stiller? Well, so am I. He's had his day in the sun, and though it was very sunny for a time (Zoolander, Reality Bytes, Dodge Ball, Something About Mary, etc) he's still in every other comedy, and he continues to play the lead even though age has clearly tightened its grip on the man. It's like he's at mile 17 of the marathon, while the ingenues opposite him continue to bounce around on the treadmill of eternal youth. Beyond all that, I'm just kind of ready for some new funny to come to a dvd player near me. Nah mean? Well, you know what? I think it's time to stop complaining and finally DO something about it! Won't you hop on the chuckwagon--er, bandwagon? Put your movie star where your mouth is? Well, okay, then! If you know someone with the potential to be the next Big Ben, please spread the word and have them answer the craigslist ad here.

JUST FOR KIDS?

2007-12-04T10:41:00.000-08:00

I was at a (fairly) new park in Santa Monica yesterday, the SM airport park,
which has facilities such as:

1 synthetic turf sports field with lights open for use by permit only
0.83-acre off-leash dog area, with separate large dog & small dog areas
children's playground with swings and climbers
17 picnic tables with 7 BBQ grills (available on first come, first serve basis)
0.6-mile walking loop
118 parking spaces plus bike racks
1 restroom building

It's a great park. But that's not why I'm bringing it up. Why I'm bringing it up is, I was looking at the bulletin board with all the activities offered at this park and all of the SM parks, and they looked like so much fun! Gymnastics. Boxing. Crafts. But then I read the fine print: These activities are just for kids. No adults allowed! Now sure, I acknowledge that there are a lot of things in the world that kids aren't allowed to do, so you could say we're even, but I don't think so. Kids can't drive, kids can't vote, kids can't drink. What's so fun about those first two anyway? But I think it's kinda sad that we as adults stop doing all those recreational activities in the park. Yes, we might still do some extracurriculars, but they're not nearly as ubiquitous for us fully grown folks. I just think this world would be a better place, and a lot more fun, if we never had to stop being goofy, or stop eating cheez n' crackers (the kind with the red plastic blunt edged stick meant for use as a knife) and never had to start using kleenex instead of our sleeve (i personally still have trouble with that one.)
So anyway, I'm gonna try my best to avail myself of the next swing set I come across. Won't you join me?

IT WAS JUST A MATTER OF TIME...

2007-11-28T10:50:00.001-08:00

Unless you live in a cave in Afghanistan, you've probably heard about the British teacher who was arrested in Khartoum, Sudan, for allowing her students to name a teddy bear Mohammed. Wait, scratch that. If you live in a cave in Afghanistan, you've most definitely heard this news around the water cooler... Well, anyway, the teddy bear in question was unavailable for comment, but I managed to find a photo that very closely matches the description of the actual bear (see above.) Normally, I would say that there is no higher honor in the land than to be named after a teddy bear. But this particular bear, with its headdress, ribbon, (probably used for torture,) and boxes of "gifts" (come on, I know a homemade bomb when I see one,) it is easy to see why naming this teddy bear Mohammed might be considered profiling, and thus, offensive to the Sudanese people. After all, their government is known for holding itself to the most stringent of moral codes.

The teacher, Gillian Gibbons, may face jail time, or possibly, 40 lashes. The bear, you ask? Why, he has been recruited by the Janjaweed, of course.

ROLLER GUY...

2007-11-21T13:23:00.000-08:00

So this is "Crazy Robertson," aka John Wesley Jermyn, a homeless, schizophrenic man who's been rollerskating the streets of Beverly Hills for more than twenty years. I remember driving by him countless times on my way to and from school as a kid. He was always just "Crazy Robertson." My friends and I thought he was funny. I mean, who would wear that outfit (shorts over tights, a headscarf coupled with a baseball cap, and always all black) except a crazy person? I guess like most kids in the Beverly Hills area, or pretty much anywhere else in America, we lacked a great deal of compassion.

Now it's already been blogged about heavily, and written about widely in the Wall Street Journal and elsewhere, but I just want to speak my piece about the news event du jour: Three young Beverly Hillbillies, all in their twenties, have started a "Crazy Robertson" clothing line, which they are selling at the trendy Kitson on, where else, Robertson Blvd. Apparently they have about as much compassion for the homeless and mentally ill now as I did in 5th grade. A lot of people are outraged by what they see as an exploitative maneuver. But I don't think it's all bad. I mean, CR agreed to it, and is getting a small percentage of the profits--which he doesn't seem terribly interested in anyway. Money's really not his thing. And what kind of legacy would he have otherwise left? To be sure, the clothing line could, should, and probably will be very fleeting... but not too many people can claim a clothing line based on their unique persona--especially CR, who seems to have trouble claiming much of anything. The Pollyanna in me says, "Maybe this will spur on some sort of awareness about homelessness and schizophrenia on the desrt island of Beverly Hills, where most people still blatantly defy pretty much every dictate of reality there is." But then Pessimistanna answered, "You have got to be f-ing kidding me, Polly. Oh, and can I have a ride to Westside Pavilion? I'm going to see the Crazy Robertson biopic, 'Rollerskate the Line.'"

So I started thinking (not an altogether common occurence): One, if I had a clothing line based on myself, what would it be like? And two, why am I not
on my way to the custom t-shirt shop right now? And THREE, what is the greater societal implication of rich, trendy people spending anywhere from $33 to $75 dollars per item on a piece of clothing inspired by a mentally ill vagrant? It's not the clothing line that bothers me, but more the herd mentality that it underscores. I guess I'm a touch worried about what's next. Dar Fur coats? I Raq the House t-shirts, complete with silk screened side-by-side images of rock guitarist and car bomb explosion emblazoned underneath? If anyone with an entrepreneurial spirit is paying attention right now, I command you to STOP. Ignore everything I just said.

But en serio, I think that we pretty much have to be at the edge of an apocalypse, if homeless people are becoming icons for the rich. Know what else? It seems wealth has been worshipped so fervently and for so long, that there has to be at least a superficial attempt at a values shift coming our way, if not a really fundamental one. But hey, I'll take what I can get...

ZOROASTRIANISM OR BUST!!!

2007-11-14T11:46:00.001-08:00

Welcome, Readers!

I decided today would be as good a day as any to talk a little bit about Zoroastrianism. Zoroastrianism is the religion based on the teachings of the prophet Zoroaster. But Zoroaster believed this dude Ahura Mazda was the One True God. Here's a likeness of him, for the family album:

As you can see, he had a lot of appendages going on, like wings, ball-like feet, and a tail. Probably not the most fuel-efficient deity. So anyway, Zoroastrians believe in that guy. Ahura Mazda... Sounds suspiciously like two different car companies to me. But as I was saying, belief in Ahura Mazda is called Mazdaism. Zoroastrianism bears a great resemblance to all the other Judeo-Christian faiths, but it got there FIRST, and thus, was a precursor to a lot of modern day religious beliefs and traditions. Probably a kinder, gentler version of all the stuff folks believe now. But still, likely somehow connected to the root of the reasons for just about all the wars in the world.

Zoroastrianism was the dominant religion in the Persian empires (559 BC to 651 AC.) It's most sacred text is the Avesta. Again, sounds more than vaguely reminiscent of a car company. And I'm thinking, when the Big Three finally go out of business, (which I can't believe hasn't happened yet--have you driven a Ford lately?) I'm gonna start a car company called Avesta. My cars are going to be extremely low emission vehicles, and you'll have to peddle them with your feet, something like this:

Now that's progress.

Anyway, I challenge all of you, Dear Readers, to either come up with a religion or a car company of your own--or perhaps, both. Both gets you about fifty-thousand gold stars.

NY MARATHON!

2007-11-08T10:53:00.000-08:00

I just came back from running the New York Marathon. It was such an exciting, inspiring event, with so much to see... bands, costumes, and oh-so-many spectators. And (coming off a back injury) I only came in about an hour and twenty minutes behind Lance Armstrong, and about an ahour and a half ahead of Katie Holmes, so I'm pretty pleased about all that.

The course takes you through all five burroughs of New York City. You start on Staten Island, run through Brooklyn, Queens, the Eastside of Manhattan, up to the Bronx, and then end up in Central Park. Over 38,000 people raced, including some blind people and some amputees. When you see those folks going for it, it makes you feel like you have absolutely no excuse not to crank through and do well.

During the race, an older guy who'd run ten marathons and was on my heels basically the whole way, loaned me his nasty, sweaty, dirty polypropylene shirt to wear. And I was cold, so I accepted it. You already have to be slightly delusional to run this race, but while you're racing, you get even MORE delusional, and willingly put on strangers' sweaty clothes.

Check out photos here and here.

FOCUS ON THE SEVENTIES

2007-11-01T09:08:00.000-07:00

Know who's in the above picture? If you said, Dr. James Dobson, of Focus on the Family, you'd be right. If you said Adobe Acrobat 8, you'd also be right. What do the two have to do with each other? Nothing that I know of. Though JD has probably used AA once or twice. But I accidentally uploaded the Adobe picture (I'm selling Adobe on ebay--I don't keep it in my family album) and can't seem to get rid of it here.

AAnnnyyhoo, I just wanted to show you that picture of James Dobson, because I was talking about him last night and realizing, I don't think I've ever seen his mug. Now that picture, and its soft, feathered-light background, looks like it's straight out of 1973. Does it not? Reminds me of one of those science films we watched in fourth grade where the guy with the horn rimmed glasses driving a '57 Chevy showed you how much sugar was really in a milk shake. Which begs the question, why does the Christian right seem to be stuck in an entirely outdated era, all the time??? I bet when high-waisted jeans come back in, (as they so sadly are) James Dobson will be right there with his pair, ready to go. Or maybe not... Maybe he's stuck in an era prior to the FIRST wave of high-waisted jeans. His wife probably still wears one of those full body bathing suits.

Anyway, I do think that the Fundamentalists being stuck in another era is a, forgive me, fundamental problem for us all. First off, they are trying to live as though we were all in a biblical era. In case anyone hasn't noticed from the advancements in sneaker design, we're not. Second, they are all about strict constructionist views on the Constitution and all that stuff, which is basically a microcosm of their passion for rigidly adhering to an outdated text from a long bygone era.
But anyway, it's getting a little breezy up here on this soapbox, so I'm gonna come down now. I just wanted anyone who is frightened by the direction this country has taken--and don't be fooled by not hearing that much about Huckabee or Brownback, they're waiting to pounce at the last minute--to know thine enemy, as the bible thumpers would say. And so now, if you're ever walking down the street past James Dobson (or perhaps if you see him leaving yoga class or while standing in line for your latte) you can put a face with a name. Or a pie in the face. As the case may be.

ALBINO RATFISH!

2007-10-24T13:10:00.001-07:00

Ever hear of a ratfish? Betcha haven't. Ever hear of an albino ratfish? Bet everything I own you haven't--okay, that's not much, but still, I do enjoy having a couch, and I'm not inclined to relinquish it casually.

Anyhoo, this ratfish was found off the coast of Washington State's Whidbey Island, and, in being albino, is apparently a real rarity among sealife. Check out the full story here. "I've seen tens of thousands, if not hundreds of thousands, of ratfish in my career, and have not seen a completely albino one before," said Wayne Palsson, a Washington Department of Fish and Wildlife biologist who studies groundfish populations in Puget Sound. Palsson's comment made me realize that ratfish are to marine biology what agents are to Hollywood. Except, I still haven't come across an albino agent in my so-called "career." My first thought was that if I do come across one, I will definitely be eager to do business with him (or her,) because maybe he'd be more human than other agents. But then, I thought better of it: Albinos get bullied a lot, so an albino agent would most certainly have an even bigger ax to grind than your normal, garden variety, Napoleon complex-having agent.

I would like to be albino for a day. I think it'd be kinda neat. For a day. As I said. Longer than that might be kinda tough. Especially if I resided near the equator. You could go broke trying to pay for all that sunscreen...

Check out some nineteenth century albinism in full effect:

Neat, huh?

WILDFIRES!

2007-10-22T09:17:00.000-07:00

We were camping in the Santa Ynez Valley Saturday night. Winds gusted at about 40 miles per hour the entire night. In the morning, everything seemed calm and copasetic. Until: We smelled and saw a small cloud of smoke billowing nearby. Was some jerk ignoring the "no campfire" restriction? Well, you could say that: Moments later, a fire marshal--the battalion chief no less--cruised by in his fire vehicle, and asked us "how long we were planning on staying." we said, "oh, do we need to leave now?" He said, (in a tone generally reserved for sharing recipes,) "well, you don't have to, if you're prepared to leave all your stuff behind. There's a four-hundred acre fire burning below you. Surprised they haven't evacuated you by now." I've never seen five tents come down so fast. On the way out of the valley, we could see planes flying around, spraying the fire. And then of course, our way home was fraught with smoke, ash, a deeply darkened sky, and a bright red moon, as we drove through the towns adjacent to several other fires, most notably, the Canyon fire in Malibu. Here's a map which marks the more than fifteen fires that were burning yesterday in Southern Cali.

So, does all this mean the end is near? I think so. But until then, I'm going to buy stock in water.

HALLOWEENIVERSARY!

2007-10-16T23:36:00.000-07:00

Yo Readers,
We celebrated our two year wedding anniversary this weekend in La Jolla. It was really great. But there was one obstacle to perfection--how were we supposed to go jewelry shopping with THIS guy in our way? I mean, not even diamonds are worth an encounter with a ghoul. Or a goblin, or a zombie... I hate to sound racist, but they all look alike to me!

I guess I should get used to sharing my birthday and my anniversary with Halloween, my most dreaded of holidays. Yes, I hate it. Dressing up = total waste of time. Scary costumes and horror films = scary and horrifying. Candy = bad for you. What's to love? But you know what's kinda romantic? My husband and I both share a strong dislike of that aforementioned extravaganza of candy corns and plastic vampire teeth and cobwebs. So I guess you could say, without Halloween to bring us together, there might not be any anniversary at all. Yeah, you could say it, but you'd be way off. But... you could say it. Go ahead.

Say it! Or I will send a goblin to haunt you and your entire family. Hoohoohhaaaaaahhaaa!

Let it Ride: The Craig Kelly Story

2007-10-11T16:09:00.001-07:00

Just saw the snowboarding documentary "Let it Ride" last night, about legendary snowboarder Craig Kelly. It was a really inspiring movie. One of those things that makes you wonder what the hell you're doing with your own life. Or, at least, it made ME wonder that. Not only is the snowboarding footage (mostly shot by pro documentary-maker Jacques Russo) incredible, but the message about trying to live life for the moment, instead of wondering what's around every next corner, comes through loud and clear.

The film also explores the history of snowboarding, the rivarly between Burton and Sims, and gives a nod to snowboarding's precursor, kids' toy "The Snurfer."

But even if you're not interested in anything deeper than some sick carves on stomach-turning, totally exposed faces, you'll probably still love this movie.

FROM SUPERMARKET TO PSYCHOLOGY...

2007-10-03T21:46:00.001-07:00

Does anyone remember the Alpha Beta supermarket chain? They were around when I was a kid, and are now defunct, but for some reason the company crossed my mind today. And for some really crazy, weird, totally inexplicable reason, I remember their slogan, "Tell a Friend." By the way, what does this memory say about the magnitude of wasted space in my brain?

Apparently, the gimmick behind the Alpha Beta chain was that they alphabetized all the groceries in their stores. So does that mean that grapes were next to granola? I'm not sure. It sounds very complicated, yet also, paradoxically, like a quaint notion from a bygone era.... As does their "Tell a Friend" slogan, which to me, is like saying, "Do our advertising work for us." Although, there is something very compelling about being told to tell a friend. You almost feel obligated to listen.

Speaking of which, the other day, I was in a cafe restroom that had a sign above the toilet seat, imploring, "PLEASE DO NOT PEE ON THE SEAT." Now, gentlemen may not know this, but us ladies pee on the seat too sometimes, especially those of us who hover a few inches above the seat in the name of hygiene. I'm telling you this because I want you to understand that I took this mandate in the restroom to heart. I was seriously concerned that if I accidentally got a bit of wee-wee on the seat, an alarm might go off alerting the proprietor along with all patrons that I had done the big no-no. Fortunately, that did not happen. But who knows what would have transpired, had I taken the non-compliance route?

I guess, to me, this fear of peeing on the seat after being told not to represents a bigger psychological phenomenon--beyond your garden variety "psychology of fear"--which I can't exactly put my finger on... But I'll bet if Stanley Milgram or Ivan Pavlov or one of those dudes was around today, they'd have a better idea about it.

THANKS, MR. GRIFFITH

2007-10-01T09:20:00.000-07:00

Hello Everyone,

I had the opportunity to visit the newly-renovated Griffith Park Observatory this weekend. It was a great experience. They've got tons to see--four hours there was barely enough--and a great planetarium show. The telescope on the roof that you can actually walk into (thanks Zeiss) is pretty awesome. They also have a telescope trained on the sun, but since it was evening, we weren't able to avail ourselves of that feature.

Anyway, I just wanted to give props to this guy:

A Welshman named Griffith J. Griffith, for establishing such an awesome park and planetarium. can you believe how civic-minded that guy was? It's impressive! I wish I could be that cool... Maybe someday...

I'd also like to thank THIS guy:

Galileo Galilei, for contributing so much to astronomy, and for also having the same first and last name--well, almost. I was thinking about how all these dudes like Copernicus and Galileo spent all that time looking at the stars, and figured things out about gravity and dark matter and the universe, and it made me ask myself, "What have I done to better the understanding of the universe lately?" And I quickly came up with an answer. "Not much." But then, those guys didn't have Tivo. Or Ben and Jerry's...

But anyway, I'm determined to work on my scientific contribution to the world. Really, I am. I started by going for a full moon hike at Charmlee wilderness park in Malibu this past week. I just wanted to make sure the full moon was really happening when my calendar said it was. I was simply taking the great piece of advice doled out by so many throughout history, but most recently by Glenn Close in FX's Damages: "Don't Trust Anyone."

Anyhoo, my visit to the observatory brings to mind one of my new favorite quotes: "We're all made of stardust. Why not take a moment to look up at the family album?" This quote comes from a new book called "The Canon: A Whirligig Tour of the Beautiful Basics of Science," by Natalie Angier, a science writer for the New York Times. It's really cool. Check it out.

SUPERSIZE HER!

2007-09-27T09:55:00.000-07:00

If you weren't already convinced about the perils of overeating, here is something that just might push you over the edge:

The "little" Siberian girl on the left weighs 17.1 pounds (just after birth.) She is her mother's 12th child. The baby on the right is already developing a Napolean complex. Or maybe she's thinking, "at least I can fit into couture."

MY PAPARAZZI, MYSELF

2007-09-25T13:13:00.000-07:00

Despite all the recent controversy about spying, wiretapping, and 24-7 video surveillance of the public, I had a recent experience that convinced me that, when it comes to being subjected to the watchful eyes of rogue cameras, maybe it's time to look within. Lately, my motorola razor cellular telephone has been inadvertantly switching to pix mode a lot. I don't know why. But still, imagine my surprise when, yesterday, about five minutes after getting out of bed in the morning, and wasting no time in scarfing down a banana--prior to any ablutions whatsoever--my phone accidentally took a picture of me, mid-chomp. (Not to mention, mid-bedhead.) I'm convinced there's some little voodoo paparazzo living in my phone, just trying to embarrass the living daylights out of me. It even caught me looking right at it! But I'm going to beat that little sucker to the punch, and prove to you, Dear Reader, that I have absolutely zero shame....

Because, here is the picture:

I'm thinking if one of the actors on Cavemen doesn't work out, I might just be their gal...

LICENSE TO DRIVE... NAKED

2007-09-19T19:12:00.000-07:00

G'day Readers--

So, I had a little idea. (You weren't expecting a big idea from ME, were you???) You can always count on the fact that I will be sick of the latest scandal almost before it happens. Therefore, you can count on the fact that I'm entirely fed up with the whole Vanessa Anne Hudgens scandal, if nothing else because she reminds me of a little relentless monkey. But it's not just HER and HER nude photo scandal, it's ___________ (fill in the blank with your favorite celebrity) and __________________ (do it again) nude photo scandal. I mean, who really cares??? I guess maybe if Stephen Hawking posed nude, I'd raise an eyebrow (well, both, I don't know how to do just one at a time although I admire that skill,) but barring that, I'm not so terribly shocked or interested.

But I'm not gonna just bellyache about our annoying, celebrity-driven times. Instead, I've come up with a solution to our unending preoccupation with nudity: Are you ready? Set? Here goes:

naked drivers license photos. Like this one:

only naked. and of the living.

I mean, why not? If everyone was naked on their drivers' license, we could just get it all out of the way and move on to loftier pursuits. It would also help cut to the chase on a first date. Anyway, just a thought. Please forward to your local DMV.

P.S. Where are all my AFRICA, LATIN AMERICA, and ASIA-based readers?? Based on my clustermap (see link at bottom of my blog) I don't seem to get no love from anyone but the colonialist enclaves of The U.S., Europe, and Australia (and yes, dear Canada, you too--I haven't forgotten about you, honeybuns. But you've never exactly been a tyranny--though you come from a long line of imperialists--and you're not exactly a developing nation either.)

They May Look Innocent...

2007-09-19T18:27:00.000-07:00

Ahoy Readers!

So, you're probably wondering, what the hell is up with the pizza the livestock, and the fat man? Well, sit tight, 'cause I'm about to tell you. This post is about me being sick and tired of sheep. Not those adorable fuzzy ones above, but the human variety. But you know that saying about he who casts the first stone... I'm as guilty of it as the next guy, gal, or transvestite. Okay, well maybe not the next gal, but the gal three rows down on your right. Yeah, the one with the mismatched socks.

So, you're demanding, where exactly does the pizza come in??? Again, I pledge not to leave you in the dark. That pizza is a picture from Pizzeria Mozza, Mario Batali (see above,) and Nancy Silverton's hot new LA pizza restaurant. Well, since it opened almost a year ago, I'm not sure one could call it new, but... Anyhoo, I tried to make a reservation there for my husband's birthday--I did this two weeks in advance--and the EARLIEST they had was 10:15pm. I attempted calling back and seeing if there were any pizza-school drop outs, but was told, definitively, "Nein." Except they may have said it in English. But it didn't matter. "No" hurts in any language. And so does eating dinner at 10:15 if you're not Spanish or Italian or working the graveyard shift.

So, how am I tying this altogether? That question is just as much for me as it is for you... The point is, I'm MAD at myself. That's right, and DISAPPOINTED. Why do I need to go to a restaurant where you have to make a reservation months in advance to even eat during normal dining hours? WHY? Because we're all a bunch of sheep, that's why. Although, I don't know how apt a description that really is... I mean, those sheep may follow each other around, but I somehow doubt they're all concerned with where the best patch of grass is, and who will get to try it first, and how many calories it is. Matter of fact, I think they seem quite comfortable in their own wool. Which is something we could all aspire to...

P.S. If anyone has a reservation at Pizza Mozza for Friday night, between the hours of 7 and 9pm, let me know.

Weekend Warrior

2007-09-10T12:38:00.001-07:00

Well, Dear Readers,
I wish I could tell you that the photograph above was of the nice clerk who rung me up at REI this weekend, but unfortunately, as we all know, it's not. (I bet if that guy worked at REI, they'd be at war with A16 by now, hitting each other over the head with Thermarests and violating the Geneva Conventions by forcing one another to wear zip-off camping pants.)

Okay, I hate to say it, but... My personal rule is that I must admit something shameful at least once every five years, and I think my time is up. So here goes:

In the above picture, that evil ignoramus (if you can be both at the same time,) that man of the wars, the torture, and the illegal spying; the to-hell-with-Kyoto and pretty-please-China- will-you-sit-by-me-at-lunch attitude, actually evokes sympathy from me--much more so than he did when he choked on a pretzel a few years back. I don't know what it is. Is it because I see so much of myself in him in that little piece of celluloid? That Camelbak brand hydration bladder (and matching pack), the iPod headphones, those polarized sunglasses, the sleek red bicycle helmet... Okay, so I won't comment on that inane headband, other than to defend it as mere sweat protection--but sincerely, I think this man has extracted a drop of compassion, nay, solidarity, from my ultra-liberal ticker. You are no doubt begging me why? Well, I'll tell you. I think it's that, in his weekend-warrior, pre-cycling state, that man has been reduced to a vulnerable human being, who needs water, shade, cranial protection (okay that one's up for debate), and itunes, just as much as the rest of us. Suddenly, the term "my fellow Americans" actually means something to me.

So am I switching political parties, or reversing my stance on impeachment? Not likely. But if I were to run into the guy at Yoga Works in the next few weeks, or say, PinkBerry**, or pouring over the New York Times vows section at Peet's some Sunday morning, that could just push me over the edge...

*For the uninitiated, REI and A16 are two sporting goods stores.
** I actually don't really like PinkBerry all that much--in fact, I could produce a tirade about that place worthy of its own blog post--but there is something very liberal and freethinking about it's existence, something which... I can't explain at all.

Girly Boy Names

2007-08-29T18:22:00.000-07:00

I like girls names for guys, like Courtney, and Casey, and Shannon... Does that make me a heathen? I like to think it does... Anyhoo, the following are the top ten boys and girls names in America for 2006.

Boy's Names	Girl's Names
1. Jacob	1. Emily
2. Michael	2. Emma
3. Joshua	3. Madison
4. Ethan	4. Isabella
5. Matthew	5. Ava
6. Daniel	6. Abigail
7. Christopher	7. Olivia
8. Andrew	8. Hannah
9. Anthony	9. Sophia
10. William	10. Samantha

Note that there's not a girly-boy name in the bunch. (actually, there are no boyish-girl names either, like Taylor or Chuck. Not even any unisex names like Jamie or Betty Sue.) i guess i must be the only one on the girly-boy-name-bandwagon. ahhh, i love being original. it's so refreshing. just like coke zero--"tastes so much like coke, we should probably sue ourselves." Have you seen that litigious-themed ad?

It's not like I'm trying to promote Coke or anything, I just think it's a little crazy that one of the world's most popular brands is rolling out a whole lawsuit-centered campaign. Could this be the beginning of the end?

PS: To mom and dad and aunt jenny jo, just because i'm blogging about names does NOT mean i'm pregnant.

SPECIAL ELECTION!

2007-08-25T14:31:00.001-07:00

Everybody's seen this bumper sticker, right?

I think it's a bit preposterous. First of all, we all know that Al Gore is NOT running for president. But okay, if we're dreaming--as this bumper sticker boldly dares to do--why not come up with a running mate who's also a total wild card? Well, I've taken it upon myself to conjure a few stellar pairings of my own, and here's what I've come up with: (My only rule was that, following the Gore/Obama model, I needed to select one somewhat-senior member, and a not-so-experienced partner.)

HILLARY '08
LEWINSKI

BUFFETT
LOHAN '08
(not Jimmy, you nimrod--Warren! we need a designated driver)

VICK '08

DOO
(yes, as in Scooby)

Vote for your favorite... and feel free to add one of your own to my comments!

THE SECRET

2007-08-18T15:39:00.000-07:00

Secrets are fun to tell, but they usually end up hurting someone. So I was looking for just the right person to confide in, who I knew would lend a safe, neutral, unflinching ear. Well, I found him, sitting right there on a bench in beautiful Cambria, California, just two short weeks ago. And let me tell you... I don't understand why people waste so much money on shrinks, when this guy helped me figure out just how to deal with all the twisted backstabbers, addicts, and neurotics in my life, and all it cost me was the price of a 1/4 lb of rocky road fudge at a nearby storefront ($6.50 U.S.) Worth the trip, believe me--even accounting for our devalued currency!

P.S. Thanks to all you midwesterners out there who have rallied behind me and my blog! (Coastal readers, check out the clustermap link below to see how many heartland visitors have joined me since my previous post lamenting their absence. Do I feel a competition coming on???

P.P.S. Welcome Canadians--your newcomerness was not lost on me!

2007-08-14T09:17:00.000-07:00

This dog, Saint, not only gets barreled on a regular basis, he's also a volunteer therapist (no joke) for a women's shelter. In addition, he hikes, climbs, and loves to kick the soccer ball around. I might try to set him up with one of my single friends.

Read more about Saint here.

MORTGAGE ALIEN?

2007-08-10T13:02:00.000-07:00

Hi Readers,

Has anyone seen that dancing mortgage alien? He's been very ubiquitous lately. Apparently, he's the spokes-alien for LowerMyBills.com. If you are blessed enough to stumble upon the animated version of him, you won't deny that he really does have the moves. Truth be told, he actually dances EXACTLY like this one friend of mine--I won't say who, other than that she's an Asian female. But anyway, they've both been gifted with astonishing rhythm.

I guess I'm just a little confused by the choice of a green space alien raver as a symbol for mortgage savings. Can anyone explain that to me? Any marketing execs out there? Bottom line is, I'm both drawn to and repelled by him. Maybe I've just answered my own question...

Tune in to ABC next season for a sitcom about a space alien who sells home loans by day, and attends raves at night. His dream is to be a professional dancer, and to legalize Ecstasy. And for all you "intellectual" property thieves out there, I've already registered this idea with the WGA, so fuhgeddaboudit.

ALL MY FLYOVER STATES IN THE HOUSE, SAY YEAH!

2007-08-07T13:41:00.000-07:00

Okay. So, I was looking at the neat little clustrmaps (not a typo) feature on my blog, and it looks like, in addition to some of my European brothers and sisters, my main traffic--if you can call three people on a country road traffic--is coming from the east coast and the west coast. well, what about the flyover states, I ask? why aren't those lovely people from the land of corn and potatoes paying me a visit? too busy producing ethanol? well, that's all great and fine, but, corn based ethanol is totally inefficient, and i would really appreciate some more (or any) heartland lookiloos.

So, dear readers--and you know who you are--I implore you, please spread the word to those who may not boast an ocean view, but might still be likely to squander away a few minutes getting to know me and my oh-so-special e-persona.

Thank you, and enjoy the negative ions.

MUSCLE-BOUND GIRLSCOUT?

2007-07-20T10:26:00.000-07:00

Do you ever google people from your past? Oh, come on, yes you do! You KNOW you do. Just random people. Your third grade teacher, that bitch who beat you out for cheerleading, that really hot soccer coach you had when you were ten. Still no? Okay, well, some people are big enough and proud enough to admit to weird hobbies, and I'm one of them.

Usually, when I google folks from my past, either nothing associated with their name comes up, or it's something really boring like an accounting firm or a useless piece of sculpture made of dreamcatchers. But last week, when I googled junior high pepsquad member and fellow Girl Scout Christy Wolfe, boy did I get a surprise:

Now, if any of you readers know me from junior high, and I've got the wrong gal, by all means, please set the record straight. But to be honest, I'm kind of hoping you don't. I would prefer to believe that that prissy little girl who couldn't live without her curling iron is now a grotesque
muscle chick.

GOING METRO

2007-07-10T14:42:00.000-07:00

Hi Readers,

I know what you're thinking from the title. You're thinking, maybe Buckwheat's gone metrosexual? Well, first of all, I don't know if that's possible for a girl, or what the female equivalent of that would be. jockosexual perhaps? anyway, that's NOT what this post is about. it's about RIDING THE BUS. it's really an ode, more than anything. yes, i will profess. I must confess. I do suggest. I love riding the bus.

My favorite part about riding the bus is thwarting the establishment; making a childish tongue- poking face at the naysayers, or those who claim that Los Angeles has no public transit. They are wrong. It's poor public transit, sure, but you can make it work--and if you do make it work, you should probably be given some sort of honorary degree. I think I'm going to give myself one, since the phones don't seem to be ringing all that much.

Another thing I love about the bus is it's a great time to catch up on all that reading that you can never seem to do safely while at the helm of your car. I do see people trying to pull that one in LA, sometimes with the newspaper, but I don't stick around very long to observe what page they're on. Something tells me they probably don't get much past the news headlines.

One of the BEST parts of the bus ride is the people watching, inside and outside of the bus. A lady brought her pet rat along for the ride (in a little pink cage--awwww.) A cute guy with a skateboard and a pretty, fresh-faced girl, both late teens, met and flirted and disembarked from the bus together. A psychotic woman yelled at her tote back. A field trip for retarded children originated on my bus. It's eye candy I tell you. Or at least eye french fries. Or eye mac and cheese. You get the idea.

There are drawbacks, don't get me wrong. One night, on the later side, I boarded the bus and was horrified to see a rider embark with a big cardboard sign proclaiming, "I HATE WOMEN." He made sure he flashed the sign in front of my face before sitting his sadistic little ass in the back. That kinda freaked me out. And then there's the occasional smelly person, who finds it just fine to take off his or her shoes and settle back for a fully-supine nap. Not to mention, the occasions that the MTA neglects to inform its passengers of a route change. (I waited for my 304 bus last week and waited and waited and waited, only to find that the line had been discontinued, and replaced with another line that originated from a different location. Thanks for telling me, MTA! Thanks a lot!)

Despite these inconveniences, the bus is a great way to see that beyond the metal and vinyl (or leather if you roll that way) of your car, that there IS life going on in this city, and spirit, and bustle. And you'll not only get to see that on the actual bus ride, but on the walk to and from your stop. Okay, this concludes my ode to Los Angeles public transit. STOP REQUESTED! (You'll have to ride the bus to get that joke. Is it worth it? Only you can find out.)

THEY DO CHICKEN RIGHT!

2007-06-29T14:18:00.000-07:00

Bon Soir, Dear Readers,

The other night, I had the incredible fortune to attend Lucha Vavoom at the Mayan theater. This sort of precious opportunity, afforded on a random Wednesday night in June, is what makes America great. Of course, we mustn't forget that it was our brothers and sisters south of the border who started this whole piece of genius. So, what the hell is this lucha thing, you're asking oh-so-impatiently? It's Lucha Libre (Mexican wrestling) combined with a burlesque show, with a sprinkling of comedy thrown on top, in the form of the Sklar brothers. Lucha Libre actually means, "free fight," and though the night wasn't free in a monetary sense, it was definitely a free for all. What made it great, other than fat men in brightly colored spandex and sexy women who could mind-bend their own pasties? Well, normally, that would be enough for me, but Lucha Vavoom didn't stop there. They topped all that off with a midget wrestler in chicken garb (see above, as if you haven't already.)

That's right. You've seen it here first. Now who doesn't just live for this kind of thing? No really, who? I want to meet them. And spank them. In a corporal punishment way.

They also played the "chicken dance" song en espanol, which I adored, and loved clapping to. Clapping in the right place at the right time... ah, what a sense of belonging... But anyway, speaking of chickens, remember when they starting calling all Kentucky Fried Chicken "restaurants" KFC a few years ago? At that point, a rumor started circulating that they'd changed the name to KFC because they could no longer call it "chicken" in good faith. Apparently, the rumor went, these chickens had no beaks and no feet, (they were bred that way for efficiency) and were fed intravenously. I can't even count the number of people I know who actually believed that scuttlebutt. Perhaps I'm hanging with the wrong crowd?

Well, anyway, this midget chicken seemed to have both a beak, and a pair of feet, which is why I feel comfortable calling him "chicken," without much concern for the threat of litigation. And he definitely was a midget. My friend was in a music video the day before I went to Lucha Vavoom, and she said she co-starred with a midget lucha libre wrestler. I have the sneaking suspicion it might have been the same guy.... Oh, to be a midget. It just seems like it would be really cool to be a big fish in such a small pond. Okay, a big tiny fish. But you get my meaning. There's so much less competition for midget entertainers, compared to full-sized ones. And it seems like the affirmative action aspect would be pretty good.... Or maybe not. I'm trying to think if I ever came across a midget when I went to UCLA... I don't think so... But wait, I take that back--does Kerri Strug count? Let's just say she does. Okay then, one midget out of a 20,000 plus student body. I've seen more pitiful ratios. Somewhere. I'm sure of it.

SIGHT UNSEEN

2007-06-26T12:42:00.000-07:00

Hey Readers,

So, I finally conducted my blindfold experiment this weekend. And let me tell you, it was a doosy. I spent several hours on Saturday afternoon wearing one of those eye masks that some people wear to sleep. Well, I can see why that's what they're intended for, because as soon as I put the mask on, I promptly passed out for about an hour and twenty minutes. Refreshing! I almost never take naps--maybe this was the universe's way of telling me that I ought to...

I'd subconsciously heard my phone ring during my nap, so when I awoke, I fumbled to find the phone and check my messages. Naturally, this presented a problem, as the numbers on my keypad are not in braille... So I tried to use my memory to figure out where the special little buttons on top ended and the numbers began. I punched a few keys, and suddenly, I was calling someone! I immediately hung up. What if I was calling some total jerk? Well, it turned out I wasn't. You know how I know? Because five seconds later, the phone rang. I flipped it open--receiving calls was the easy part. It was my dad, asking me if I'd just called him. I said, "There's a very good chance I might have." We chatted for a few moments, but I found that it was somewhat difficult to concentrate. I never realized that sight played such a huge role in my comprehension and focus...

After returning a few phone calls with the (reluctant) aid of my husband, I thought I'd listen to a little bit of Saturday afternoon TV. I heard part of a true-hollywood-story type thing on Destiny's Child. I noticed myself hanging on every word. I was dying to rip my blindfold off and see a picture of Beyonce from her junior high days, but I have too much self respect to just up and throw in the towel like that. So I listened to the trials and tribulations of the Knowles' family, what their parents gave up for the girls' success, and how incredibly excited they were when they were picked up from high school one day by their mom, who was blasting their first single on the radio. Beyonce almost passed out!

When I first "went blind," I tried to memorize the lay of the land of my apartment, so that I wouldn't get lost. We only have a two bedroom, so I didn't think that would be a big deal. It turned out that it was. Being sight-free can be quite disorienting. It got so, I knew I was somewhere in the living room, but had no idea which part. I tried to figure it out, and sustained a few bruises to that end. But don't worry about me, I'll be fine. The black and blue marks were nothing next to my husband's serious irritation at having to pour me frequent glasses of water, lead me over bumps in the sidewalk, and dial my friends' phone numbers.

My big suggestion: If you're ever going to attempt such tomfoolery, make sure you're paying your guide by the hour, and determine the currency beforehand.

WISH YOU WERE HERE, WILBUR

2007-06-21T11:18:00.000-07:00

Pop Quiz!

The picture below is of:

a--me after a Ben and Jerry's jag.

b--an overly-flattering representation of our President.

c--an Iowan farm animal safari

d--none of the above

If you guessed "D," you're partially right. There might be a little bit of "B" in there too. I don't know. The picture is just in from the Roger Waters concert at Hollywood Bowl last week. Well, I've had the picture the whole time, just hadn't gotten around to emailing it to myself from my phone. Lazy!! For those who didn't have the good fortune to go, it was an amazing show. I'm not even a big fan or anything and it was still one of my favorite concerts. One of the best parts was the giant inflatable pig floating above the crowd. Disclaimer: I'm biased, because I love pigs, and there's a famous one named after me.

Anyway, this huge guy in front of me was smoking loads and loads of weed, and I asked him if I could "borrow" a rolling paper (I wanted to make a paper airplane, in case you're wondering.) I told him if he gave me a paper, I'd give him... a little herbal treat, that I already knew he'd like, without even knowing much about the guy. But then my whole "airplane folding" project went awry, and it was a total disaster, and I had nothing to give the guy but a tiny packet of M+Ms. This guy was so big that it probably would have taken about 30 packets of M+Ms for him to taste just one piece. But it was all I had. So, I handed them over sheepishly, and he, after examining them closely, even holding up a flashlight to them--I think he was hoping they might have been something slightly more psychedelic than chocolate candies--managed a shrug, tore into the pack, and started munching quite agreeably.

And we all lived happily ever after. Especially the pig.

A WHALE OF A POST

2007-06-17T23:48:00.000-07:00

Hi Everyone,

Since I only had time to be blind for about fifteen minutes this weekend, I will attempt to edify you with a brief interim post: I just read today in the New York Times that certain species of whale can live for up to about 200 years. A story in today's Week in Review talked about Eskimo hunters having recently killed a whale in whose head they found a harpoon dating back to the 1880s! I think this is an important reminder we humans aren't the best at everything. Nor can we approximate all of the advantages of other species using new technologies. Though we are trying. Well, not me personally. I don't think I can claim responsibility for even one technological innovation in this or any other century. Currently, I feel a bit like a whale, having eaten a delicious vanilla cupcake from Hotcakes Bakes (in Mar Vista,) followed by some Trader Joes oatmeal chocolate chip cookies. They're not that good, but they're very faithful. They know to stay put in my cupboard until I command them to do otherwise.

The other thing I feel compelled to make sure you know about whales: They share a very close ancestry with cows. Can you believe it? A creature crawled out of the water, evolved, and then crawled back into the water and evolved some more? And now, you'd never know they were cousins. All of this begs the question: If a whale and a cow hooked up, would they have retarded children?

One more thing before I go to bed: During my short stint blindness experiment, my husband kept leading me up and down the same curb over and over again, in a zig-zag pattern, sabotaging my senses and disorienting me completely. I'm not sure if he's the best seeing-eye husband out there. Applications for guides are currently being accepted.

SNEW, PART TWO: NATIONAL SMILE DAY?

2007-06-10T14:12:00.000-07:00

Hey Readers,

How are you? I'm in a really good mood right now, fresh from my smile experiment. As promised last week, I conducted this bit of research, smiling for (at least) a half mile walk on a pedestrian-trafficked street. Well, I will preface my report by saying that what started out as a half mile turned into about a mile and a half! Apparently, smiling can be addictive, even for your garden-variety curmudgeon (a category under which you would definitely find my name, photo, and fingerprints.)

So, as I started down towards the Main Street area of Santa Monica/Venice, adjacent to my home, I couldn't help but feeling a little nervous about what was to transpire. When I made reference to a straitjacket last week, it was only partially hyperbolic. Though I found it a bit straining to smile while gulping back a nervous mole hill in my throat, I resolved to keep up the good work, as it were. In fact, I decided to throw myself to the wolves and not only perambulate down Main Street with a smile on my face, but do some (smiley) shopping at the Sunday farmer's market. What I noticed at first was that a lot of people were looking right past me and my goofy grin. I figured my sunglasses might be the culprit, so I removed them, and allowed the games to truly begin. Once I did, I was slightly disappointed at first, to notice that some people were still looking right past me... I told myself this was a coping mechanism: How do you deal with another human being smiling right at you in the middle of a city? It's like dealing with any other urban hazard: you shut down, and retreat further into your metropolitan shell. So that's what I reckon these people were doing, and I forgive them.

But then, (and this, my friends, is the sprinkles, the frosting, and the maraschino cherry) my mounting cheek-ache started paying off, as stolid, somber folks started... smiling back. This occurred with both men and women. (Though I'll admit, the men were quicker to smile, and for that reason, I am calling all male readers to conduct this very investigation and report back, so we can all be privy to the flip side.) At this point, I was emboldened to really go for it--even though my allotted experiment window was technically up, I approached fruit and vegetable vendors with an unabashed beam. The result? Discounted produced. Full disclaimer: The market was wrapping up for the day, so farmers were motivated to move product. That being said, the sale price on strawberries was three bucks a basket, and I got them for two--the vendor actually handed me back one of my three dollars! I also got a free apricot, after already having committed to buying a pound. There were other bargains gotten, but I'll spare you the quotidien details.

Saving money on fruit seems reason enough to justify a perma-smile, but let me tell you, reader, there were other benefits. One, I'm pretty sure I cheered up at least a handful of people, including a lonely parking attendant, and a guy with a "visualize whirled peas" bumper sticker on his car. These instances more than balanced out the couple of scornful looks I got from people who really couldn't abide the sight of good cheer. Two, the whole smiling thing actually became habit-forming! When it was time for me to wrap up my research, I found it difficult to wipe the grin off my face. I accidentally smiled at a family with a young baby as I made my way back through the less-trafficked residential street to my house, and guess what? They returned the smile. Even the baby! Okay, maybe not the baby--his face was obscured by a stroller awning--but definitely the parents. But the final, foremost, (and some would say slightly objectivist) reason in support of SWIP (smiling while in public) is that it put me, a self-professed curmudgeon, in excellent spirits.

In conclusion, as "The Killers" have so lyrically urged, I strongly encourage you to "Smile Like You Mean It."

Log on next week for my second great experiment, in which I will spend the day blindfolded.

Something New Every Week (SNEW)

2007-05-30T21:52:00.000-07:00

Hello Dear Reader,

And welcome to my first official posting of BuckwheatsRUs. Well, I suppose it's my first unofficial posting as well. But let's just call it official. Okay? Good. I feel better now. So, I intend for this blog to have a mish-mash of themes, but the first and most dominant theme I have chosen is, SOMETHING NEW EVERY WEEK, (hence the title of this post.) In my SNEW column, I will--as advertised--attempt something new each week, running the gamut from the mundane to the truly bizzare. But my intention is that The Something always be at least a smidgen eye opening, though perhaps more so at times--but I'm not going to promise you the world. At least not at this juncture. I read a quote once in one of those tiny little point-of-purchase quote books that said something along the lines of, "try to view things in the world as though you've never seen them before, and as though you might never see them again." Well, obviously you couldn't do that all the time or you'd be a crazy person, but I think it's a meritable idea. So, I'm going to attempt it myself. Henceforth, buckle your seatbelts, Dear Reader, because it's gonna be one hell of a ride.

For my first trick, I will attempt "SMILING WHILE IN PUBLIC." Which, you may be surprised to learn, is slightly different from Driving While Intoxicated. I've heard that incessant smiling can actually put you in a good mood, so I'm going to test this theory by smiling during no-less-than a half mile walk in a pedestrian friendly area. * I will also inherently be testing the wherewithal of my fellow citizens to withstand, and/or make sense of, the sight of a cheerful compatriot. In Los Angeles, where I live, if you smile at someone on the street, you're bound to be regarded as either a psychopath worthy of a straight jacket, or a homeless person going number two--or maybe both. As you can surmise, the stakes are high. Damn high. So tune in next time for the breathtaking conclusion of: Smiling... While in Public. If you don't hear anything, you'll know I've either been committed or arrested. Hope to hear from me soon. -Buckwheat

*Try this at your own risk