Second-hand shame is...

watching your 55-pound dog cower from the snarling maw of an 8-pound chihuahua named Lucky.

C-list inanity

While seaching the Craigslist "Household Services" section for a cheap dogwalker who doesn't mind being growled at and bitten every once in a while, I ran across this request:

Harvard Student need IRONING Services

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Date: 2006-11-28, 9:20PM EST


Need person to iron once every week/once every two weeks.
am just too busy for that

will discuss competitive pay
live in harvard square

email with name, references and an approximate pay
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I like this. This says "member of the hoi polloi" to me. Clearly this young fellow --likely carrying a full class load while also working part-time to help cover his tuition costs -- just wants to look presentable to his richer, more intimidating peers. No doubt the poor lad already knows how to iron a shirt -- my bet is that he did all the family ironing growing up, because everyone was expected to chip in back then -- but given his school and work loads, he truly, honestly can't find the 10 minutes necessary to put heated iron to cotton.

He most certainly is NOT a self-important douche who doesn't think twice about dropping the H-bomb in the title of a Craiglist post despite the utter irrelevancy of his Harvard student status; someone who, despite being a college student of 18 to 21 years of age, feels the need to wear pressed Oxfords to class every day; someone who has managed to get through the first 18 to 21 years of his life completely unaware that there is an institution called "the dry cleaner" that will iron a shirt for a nominal, albeit "competitive" fee; someone who thinks it's correct and appropriate to ask for REFERENCES from a future indentured personal ironer because Papa Douche always told him to do his background checks; and someone who, five decades from now, will no doubt still smugly announce that he went to college "in Cambridge, Massachusetts," then do an impatient little pee-dance as he waits for the dawning moments of recognition, awe and deference to finally pass over his companion's face.

I really hope this well-meaning, earnest young chap finds the ironer of his dreams. An ironer who then burns holes in the crotches of all of his Ralph Lauren khakis.

Breaking: Altman's Death Induces "Exhaustion" in Lindsay Lohan

I settled in this morning to write a stern warning to all the weekly tabloids and men's magazine's out there, assuring them that if they sought out a statement from Lindsay Lohan regarding the death of Robert Altman, I would wrap their proverbial bodies in sausage links, helicopter them to southwestern Alaska, and drop them to their inevitable fates in the heart of Grizzly Country.

But first I went to read People.com, where I saw that Lindsay herself had released a statement. I began reading the accompanying article with fury; soon enough, however, I was transformed into a euphoric mass of giggling good cheer. People magazine made the indefensible editorial decision to publish La Lohan's statement in all of its unedited glory. Read it below, and then give thanks this holiday season that you're not a meth-addled, emphesema-riddled, homeless, parentless, pantyless no-talent who can no longer recall what it feels like to stare out at the world through focused pupils.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

****************


I would like to send my condolences out to Catherine Altman, Robert Altman's wife, as well as all of his immediate family, close friends, co-workers, and all of his inner circle.

I feel as if I've just had the wind knocked out of me and my heart aches. If not only my heart but the heart of Mr. Altman's wife and family and many fellow actors/artists that admire him for his work and love him for making people laugh whenever and however he could.

Robert Altman made dreams possible for many independent aspiring filmmakers, as well as creating roles for countless actors.

I am lucky enough to of been able to work with Robert Altman amongst the other greats on a film that I can genuinely say created a turning point in my career.

I learned so much from Altman and he was the closest thing to my father and grandfather that I really do believe I've had in several years.

The point is, he made a difference.
He left us with a legend that all of us have the ability to do.

So every day when you wake up.
Look in the mirror and thank god for every second you have and cherish all moments.
The fighting, the anger, the drama is tedious.

Please just take each moment day by day and consider yourself lucky to breathe and feel at all and smile. Be thankful.

Life comes once, doesn't 'keep coming back' and we all take such advantage of what we have.
When we shouldn't.....

Make a searching and fearless moral inventory of yourselves' (12st book)

– Everytime there's a triumph in the world a million souls hafta be trampled on. – Altman

Its true. But treasure each triumph as they come.

If I can do anything for those who are in a very hard time right now, as I'm one of them with hearing this news, please take advantage of the fact that I'm just a phone call away.
God Bless, peace and love always.

Thank You,
"BE ADEQUITE"
Lindsay Lohan

If the robots buzz, call the fuzz

I'm well aware that O.J.'s "If I Did It" nonconfessional tour has been cancelled. Still, there was something about his initial non-gesture that has stayed with me. As a result, I have decided that I will also not confess to several crimes that I once did not commit:

-Dad, I did not steal and subsequently attempt to swallow your 1776 commemorative coin. But if I had, here's how I would have done it. First, I would have taken the coin from the mantle top when you weren't looking and hidden it beneath my shirt. Clutching it to my stomach to keep it safe, I would have loudly feigned a stomachache and then retreated to the bathroom so I could spend more time with the coin. Then I would have decided that it was a good idea to try and eat it because it was just so shiny. Then I would have nearly choked to death because the coin would have gotten stuck in my throat. Eventually I would have coughed the coin up; then I would have put it back under my shirt and exited the bathroom, still loudly groaning about my stomachache.

-Mom, I did not continue to suck on that lemon rind during a TGI Friday's Easter Sunday lunch after you told me not to. But if I had, here's how I would have done it. After you had chided me for snatching the lemon slice out of my Coke and eating it, I would have secretly placed the lemon rind in the plastic Easter egg I had in my pocket, then retreated to the restroom to suck on the rind a bit more. Then I would have promptly forgotten about the whole thing until I rediscovered the plastic Easter egg several months later in the pocket of the coat I had worn that day. Then I would have opened the egg and promptly gagged on the putrid odor of three-month-old molded lemon rind.

-Sister, I did not pluck the tail off of that stuffed pig of yours that I secretly coveted. But if I had, here's how I would have done it. I would have taken the stuffed pig from your room, plucked the tail off of it, and given it back to you, saying, "Ha ha, look what I did to your pig!"

-Child's World toy store, I did not steal that small wind-up robot toy from you. But if I had, here's how I would have done it. While my dad was paying for something in the checkout line, I would have taken the robot from the checkout display and hidden it in my pants. Once safe in the car but unable to help myself, I would have opened up the package and wound up the robot. Then I would have dropped it by mistake, and the robot would have fallen to the floor and made a very loud buzzing noise as it wound down. When my dad asked, "What's that noise?" I would have replied, "It's a bee." When he said, "There are no bees in New England in December," I would have replied, "It's a special bee."

Oh well, at least I'm (blahblahblah)

Tonight I realized why men date much younger women: for their ignorant worship. After my (blahblahblah) class tonight, which I'm taking in the hopes of transitioning career-wise from (blahblahblah) to (blahblahblah), a fellow, much younger student came up and sweetly asked if I had any advice for her as to how to break into (blahblahblah). I blah blah blahed for a while about my (blahblahblah) career thus far and how I broke into (blahblahblah), when she finallly interrupted me in the middle of one of my blah blahs and said, "Oh my god, you've done so many interesting things in (blahblahblah), I'm like in awe."

She's so young and green, she has no idea my (blahblahblah) career, such as it is, amounts to nothing compared to all the (blahblahblahs) I once worked with at, say, (blahblahblah), almost all of whom have gone on to much bigger, better and more visible things than I at various (blahblahblahs), which I'm reminded of at least (blahblahblah) times a week, to the point where if all my former fellow (blahblahblahs) threw a party and invited me along, I'd have to feign a (blahblahblah) and decline the invite because I just wouldn't be able to bear their looks of pity when they asked me how my (blahblahblah) career had gone since I'd seen them last, circa (blahblahblah).

Yup, younger women. Totally get it now.

But stir fries were all I had!

Quinoa. Pronounced "kee-nwah," it's a grain I didn't know existed until I moved to California. Dan got some of it out of a bin in Whole Foods one day, and when I mentioned to a few people that my husband had brought home this weird "KWEE-noah" stuff, everyone said "oh yes, kee-NWAH," like Californians pour milk over it for breakfast and stuff it in their turkeys on Thanksgiving and sprinkle it on their sundaes on Sunday and otherwise make daily edible use of the stuff. Well excuse me, I muttered to myself, then listened patiently as everyone told me what a protein-packed wonder quinoa was and what wonderful things it would do for your body.

Let me tell you what quinoa did for me today. It got stuck in pretty much all my teeth and in the permanent retainer behind my teeth. It spilled onto my keyboard and rendered the < and / keys useless. It gave me crippling gas right before my yoga class, a near-fatal blow. And it failed to satiate my hunger in the slightest.

It also put me in the pending awkward position of telling my husband that while I really, really love him, I really, really don't want him making any more lunchtime quinoa for me.

Then again, he just recently copped to a dislike of my stir fries, and considering that there used to be a time when I would be bemoaning my all-around talentlessness and he would reply mock-seriously, "but at least you make a mean stir fry," maybe I don't really mind telling him to throw the rest of the quinoa down the drain.

Is it confluence or incongruity

... when your dog takes a crap on a big pile of manure?

Two final, very small remarks

Since I have nothing of substantial interest to add to any dialogues going on right now....

1. I watched Santorum's concession speech on C-SPAN earlier this evening, and let me just say this to the incompetent who forgot to remove Santorum's crybaby son from the camera shot: Thank you! I couldn't stop giggling at the little guy's theatrical attempts to hold back his tears. It was Jim Bakker-esque. (And yeah, I'm a bad person.)

2. Watching nail-biters on the East Coast is hard. I need to go to bed now.

Okay,

I love my celeb gossip as much as the next person -- well, more -- but the fact that, on the afternoon of a huge election, CNN.com is just now flashing the "breaking news" "story" that Britney Spears has filed for divorce from K. Fed... well, I just don't know what to say.

(Aside: Omigod omigod OMIGOD I can't believe she filed for divorce!!)

My day of unmagical thinking

11:30 am in the morning and I've already whipped myself into a fatalistic frenzy about these midterms, in small part because I'm convinced that liberal bloggers are jinxing us with premature victory meditations. So I've decided to clear my head of all election-related thoughts for an hour or two, lest I somehow conjure up a giant, Rovian Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man bent on surreptitiously destroying our electoral process.

Or, rather, yet another Rovian Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man bent on surreptitiously destroying our electoral process.

Update: A midday yoga class kind of distracted me, although when I was balancing on one leg and using a wall outlet as my focal point, the light sockets started to look like Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man faces, and I got distracted and fell. Also, the yoga room reeked of sawdust, which got me to thinking of all the gerbils, guinea pigs and rabbits I've loved and lost. That made me a little sad. RIP, Perseus, Custard, Buster et al.

Sigh

The car got towed this morning. My Borat opening-night viewing cannot come quickly enough.

Headline of the day

From CNN.com:

Cops: Duct tape no substitute for a babysitter

I thought duct tape could do everything!