Never in my life have I watched the Maury show, but I saw part of this clip on The Soup and it was nearly a Depends moment. This, my friends, is why Ben Franklin invented electricity.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to run to the store for a few ingredients.
Can we just talk for a minute? I've taken cough medicine and started this post. I am medicated and motivated, people. I am wired. But enough about me, let's move on to the me in my head.
Do you watch the Project Runway? Huh? Do ya? Well, ya should. Here's the rub: Michael Kors and Nina Garcia have been missing for weeks and I have missed the bitchy, sarcastic, snarky, bitchy, hysterical, ridiculous, bitchy judging styles of Michael Kors. He's like my fairy godfather of bitchy comments and I've missed him. He's like me, only male and gay — judgmental, with sarcasm and you know he says things out of love, like moi. He's like me, only orange.
The Kors and I have been BFFs in my mind since season one of PR. Here are his best quotes from the six previous seasons. Keep in mind — these quotes are about outfits, that's what makes The Kors hilarious.
It's a little like a woman going out to eat ribs.
It looks like toilet paper caught in a wind storm.
It's a little mother of the bride.
I thought it looked farty.
She looks like a paper brioche.
You're a mess just standing there.
If you didn't do that jacket in fleece I would have been like give me a Xanax, I'm asleep.
Nina Garcia: You went from a wedding to a funeral. Michael Kors: …Or a French maid at a funeral.
It's a little Shirley McClaine when she played a hooker with a heart of gold.
She needed a feather duster.
That was so Paris hooker 50's.
I think she looked like $29.99 prom.
AND my top 4 fave quotes:
Next thing you know, it's big button earrings and you're on 'The Facts of Life.'
Scarlett O'Hara ripped drapes down and made a couture dress…this, she ripped the sheets off the bed and ran out the door.
She looks like Barefoot Appalachain Lil' Abner Barbie.
I feel like a pope at a sex club.
Don't we all just feel like a pope at a sex club sometimes? That's what I like to call 1992-97. I'm telling you, I was/am the goody two shoes Adam Ant sang about.
Well, honeys, he's back. Here's the preview. And yes, he says "teal charmeuse disco pumpkin" which is now what I want to be for Halloween. Has anything more festive ever been said? Teal charmeuse disco pumpkin? Shut up.
In case you need reading glasses, the text is "Most men ask 'Is she pretty?' not "Is she clever?'"
I think I've just realized why those blind dates never worked out back in the day.
So, by now many of you know how I tend to obsess over things, eras, and what have you. Because I'm such a giver, I thought you'd like to have a look at my latest obsession, the now defunct Pageant Magazine. Y'all know how I love the kitch of mid-twentieth century: the sort of housewife-glam. Well, nothing defines that like Pageant. It was a magazine that ran from the 1940's to the 70's with possibly THE BEST COVERS ever. And NO, it wasn't about pageants. Don't tell me you thought I was talking about actual pageants. And you think you know someone. So disappointed.
I'm thinking of framing the covers for my scrap office because they are equally glamorous and hilarious.
"What to do With the Leftover Booze" is one of my favorite titles of all time. And really, how many times have I wondered that while in my hammock wearing a beehive? If I had a nickel.
You know, you could test your psychic powers while husband hunting. Damn, if only I would have had the hunting guide before I met the hubs. And please — my psychic powers have been evident for years.
And if the hubs gives me any lip –I have proof, it's in print — American women are lousy wives. Thank goodness we're cute.
http://www.someecards.com/usercards/someEcards.swf
this is for my friends on the right. Betcha would've voted for Obama if you knew you were getting your very own unicorn!
and just because I'm living in a bad sitcom (Molly has a fever, Katie's throwing up, and snotty Andrew ate so many Tootsie Rolls that he fell asleep in front of the tv and was literally stuck to the carpet) and needed a laugh, I give you this little gem:http://www.someecards.com/usercards/someEcards.swf
and I wrote this haiku for Frugal Beth's haiku-loving 9 year-old, Sarah:
it's January
oh so cold and sometimes warm
you can wear capris
and here's another one, just because I can't sleep:
in elusive dreams
this sleep is just a rumor
taunting my eyelids
Y'all know I'm nothing if not dedicated to telling the truth here on the Kerry blog, 'cause gosh darn it, someone has to. I'm not sure if it's out in full force in your neighborhood yet, but in my 'hood it's beginning to look a lot like Christmas, a really gaudy Christmas. Scroll down for the video and let's have a look at the evidence, shall we?
People, I know I'm fairly judgmental; I am jaded when it comes to a lot of things and Christmas decor is one of them. I know, I know, it's not keeping anyone up at night and I'm sure Obama isn't being briefed on the 7 foot inflatable snow globes and the threat they pose to national security. But really, something has to be done about these lawn decorations. I can't take it anymore.
It all started with those hand-painted wooden things in yards, then the plastic light-up Santas, snowmen, and nativities. Now it's "let's see how much crap we can fit on the lawn." This behavior didn't bother me until we lived in Brunswick, GA. We went home to Mandeville for Thanksgiving and when we returned a couple of days later our neighbors had been passing 'round the crack pipe and were putting up every damn thing you could possibly imagine on their lawns. I am not making this up: the best house had a Santa alien in a sleigh being pulled by eight pink flamingos. For realz. Scott will back me up on this one. I had a pic, but I don't know where it is now. It was awesome. Every other house in the subdivision was decorated to the hilt with fake ice skating rinks with fake skaters and everything else you could think of and more. I only put out a wreath, it was like the Grinch's house.
But my current subdivision is wild. The house from the video is first on my list when I'm appointed Minister of Good Taste in the next administration. I simply cannot take it.. Readers, if you have a Santa on your lawn, there really is no need for a snowman Santa, Mickey Santa, Tigger Santa, Pooh Santa, and whatever other Santa Walmart carries. Likewise with the nativity set. If Jesus were to come back this Christmas and for some reason came over to your house and saw his family — I usually call nativity sets "Baby Jesus and his family" — out on your lawn with some sheep, a snowman, Santa, and two inflatable penguins on ice skates holding some mistletoe with lights set to Maheim freakin' Steamroller playing, well, I'm pretty sure He can revoke your get into Heaven pass. That's in the Bible, somewhere around Acts, as in "if you Acts like a fool and put up tacky lawn decorations at the anniversary of the birth of your savior, your name will be crossed out of the Book of Life." I'm no theologian, but I know my way around the Bible. I think I remember that from Sunday school or a Christmas pageant I was in when I was a kid. I was once kicked out of a Christmas pageant at church because I was always late to practice, I was 8 or 9. I failed to see how that was my fault. Anyway, that's my Christmas pet peeve of the day. I'm sure there will be more.
EDIT: Friends and peeps, I couldn't bring myself to post the pic because I have standards for my blog (they may be low, but hell, I have them), but I had to seek out the next step from the Equmen 6-pack producing undershirt and look for a butt enhancer for men after I read Molly's comment. I thought we could invent something, but it's already a product — imagine that. Now if your man needs some help in the derriere, go here. It's called the Package Booster, and as the name suggests, it boosts more than just the booty. And that's about as tacky as I can be without offending my sensibilities and Puritan nature. I can talk all day long on just about any subject except for the twig and berries because I am a total prude, as most of my firends will attest to.
There's no doubt in my mind that men are the hardest to shop for. I have a hard time shopping for the perfect Christmas gift for the men in my life — but not this year, baby. The Kerry blog is nothing if not quasi-helpful with shopping, so it should surprise no one that I have found the best gift in the history of ever for the vain, but not vain enough to work out everyday men. Friends and peeps, I give you the Equmen Core-Precision Undershirt.
The Equmen undershirt is to a man's torso what Spanx is to my tummy. Spanx rock, but I can't see a man wearing this. It is supposed to take inches off and give you the 6-pack you've always wanted. Oh, yeah, and it retails for $90. Ninety. That's a lot more than my Spanx. But I suppose if you're a guy and you want to impress the ladies, you might try this for kicks. I've never been on the other end of this, because I'm a girl (obviously), but I can't imagine dating a guy you think is a hard body type and that big make-out date happens. You're getting your groove on to some slow jams and he takes the Equmen undershirt off and lets the flab loose. That's just plain sexy.
The jock-type has never been my type, I always preferred the brainy cute guys to the beefcakes and I've been off the market for over a decade, so I won't be buying the Equmen undershirt for my hubs this year. But, now that I think about it, Scott took the "real age quiz" and turns out he's 49 (that's only 12 years older than his actual age) and I'm 28 in real-age years, so looks like I may be on the market if he kicks the bucket. Better keep my options open just in case.
It's almost that time again. Christmas card time.
You know what that means, you'll get your first card in the mail on December 1st from that overzealous friend or relative and you feel guilty that you haven't even thought about Christmas cards yet. Then the cards start to trickle in, then one day you get 10 of them in the mailbox and you look at the calendar and think, "if I send cards today people will get them in time." But you forget about it because you get caught up reading the cards you've received. The cards, photo cards, and holiday family newsletters are too much. I sent photo cards last year, but this year I've found the best Christmas cards in the history of ever.
A while back I posted some things by Anne Taintor, she creates "vintage revisited" products that are witty and just snarky enough to please me. I've always had a love-hate relationship with Christmas cards. Each Christmas I remember when I read Less Than Zero for the first time and how I loved the Christmas party invitation Clay receives at the beginning of the novel. Not that I would ever send a card as tacky as F*** Christmas, and the rest of it — but I appreciate the humor of it. Every year I try my best to find the perfect card and sadly, I'm never satisfied with the ones I send. Anne Taintor apparently had the same problem, because her cards are the ones I'd write if I had a card company.
Who wouldn't love to get this? "So much depended on how one defined
'naughty'." That's awesome. You know you'd like to send that card to someone. You know you do. You're thinking of that person right now, aren't you? I thought so. I love the images on the cards. All of them are from vintage ads and the women are real people. On Taintor's site she catches up with some of the ladies dubbed the "Taintorettes" and you get to see what they're up to now. Very cute.
This one is great. "'gay apparel' was putting it mildly." Nothing quite says holiday like emasculating Christmas cards. I love that Taintor brings up the Christmas song that everyone giggles on the inside about just a little bit when you hear it. Times have changed, can we think of something else besides "don we now our gay apparel?" Really, come on.
Ever wonder what sort of card to send your couple friends of mixed faiths? Do you send a Christmas card and a Chanukah card? Do you choose which one to go with? That's a pain. In that case I always feel it's best to address the obvious and go with a card like this. "Now was probably not the best time to tell the kids they were Jewish." Perfect. Now if there was matching wrapping paper, you'd be set.
While you're at it you might as well be honest and say how you really feel. Honesty is the best policy, I always say. That's how I live my life. Why be any different at the holidays? Christmas can be a difficult time for family gatherings, I know I've had my share of awkward situations and such, who hasn't? And being the honest person I am, it can make for unwanted and unpleasant conversations — but that's where medication comes into play.
Everyone knows I'm medicated, for a while it was on the down-low, but I was outed, so hell, why not put it out there in card from and tell everyone how I feel about the holidays. "Fortunately, she had remembered to stock up on Prozac before going home for the holidays." I couldn't have said it better myself, well, unless I named my actual meds! If you send this card, chances are your family knows you have to be on something to spend the holidays with them. Heck, I have to be on something to spend time by myself, let alone other people.
I'm keeping the card I ordered for close friends under wraps, not gonna spoil the surprise, not even for the blog. It was hard to pick between all the superfantastic cards. I did like this one a lot, but I chose a different sentiment. I can't wait to send it. I spent a long time on the Anne Taintor site, shopped for Christmas pressies for my girlfriends and got a notepad for myself. My notepad says "old enough to know better…too young to give a rat's ass." Too bad that's not a Christmas card.
I so need my own card line. You listening Hallmark? I'm a hard worker, well, when I want to work anyway. I don't work in the rain. Or early mornings. Or when I just don't feel like it. But I'd be a great card writer. I can illustrate as well. So, give me call if you need a new card line, just don't call to early, I like to sleep in. And I prefer to work at home, in my pajamas. Don't judge.
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