Bye Bye, Pie!

Best thing ever

I got this from Dooce's blog, but really, who is reading both me and Dooce? If you're reading her, there is no reason to read me. And if you're not reading her, is it me you're looking for?

Hello from ant1mat3rie on Vimeo.

 

The Blogist

My favorite thing last night was when Angelina Jolie struck that stupid pose with her leg out, and when the writers of The Descendants came on stage, the one guy posed just like her. heeeee!

Do you have any idea how hard it is to take a picture of your own leg?

Oh look. I found a picture of it. I didn't even have to photograph my own leg. That was for your viewing pleasure, though.

I watched the Oscars at a party my friend Marty Martin had.

I know. I had my phone with me and the lights were low. Here is my ...friend breaking Marty's wine opener.

We got there late, because I (sit down) made brownies, and they wouldn't cook. I kept sticking spade toothpicks in there and it kept sticking. (I just linked you to the ball I had for Edsel after he got neutered. Who cracked her own self up with "Don't get testy, party pictures are here"?)

But see? Not only did I MAKE brownies, but people ATE them. Do you think Dot Dot Dot Friend thinks I'm domestic? It's only about the fourth or fifth time he's ever come over and there I was with an oven mitt on. Oh, what a tangled web we weave...

Here is Marty Martin, trying to fix the wine opener that Dot Dot Dot Friend broke. I really don't think he broke it. I mean, it's the highfalutinest, fanciest wine opener you've ever seen, and it kind of fell apart, but Marty said it always does that. Anyway now Dot Dot Dot feels terrible about it.

Also, Marty Martin was drunk. Did I mention that? He called me when we were already in the car. "WHERE ARE YOU? YOU COMING TO THE PARTY?" I was all, "Yeah, we're right at your street. My brownies wouldn't cook. Why? Do you need ice or something?"

"NO! I'M ALREADY DRUNK!"

And with that he hung up.

I have known MM for a couple years now, and have never seen him drunk. It was quite a sight.

Here he is with his adorable dog Spiro. Note that Spiro seems tired of his drunk ass, also.

You don't have to tell me how dreadful these pictures are. I should've brought the real camera. So we could have captured Marty Goes to Rehab with sparkling precision.

I thought Penelope Cruz was the prettiest one last night,
(I took this photo with my iPhone) and I liked what's-her-name. The Swan. The young girl. Oh, hell. Red dress, beautiful necklace. NATALIE PORTMAN! Geez. She looked good.

How many of you were just up there in that paragraph yelling at me, "NATALIE PORTMAN!"?

I adore Tina Fey, but what the hell was she wearing, with that peplum action? Did she have a saber under there? An extra-value meal? What the hell?

She has a lovely figure, says June, who turned 87 last month. Why doesn't she show it off?

And I am glad The Artist won. Did I not say it should win? Did not June speak? June has speaken. And although Meryl Streep was EXCELLENT in the Margaret Thatcher movie (and perhaps it'd have been nice of her to thank Margaret Thatcher in her speech), I was rooting for The Help lady, whatever her name is. Viola. Right? Viola and Octavia are being some names you hear every day.

So that was my Oscar report. In a post-report, Marty is feeling crappy but made it to work, and DDD Friend wrote me to ask where he could get a fancy wine opener for Marty, and I am still in the brown robe from the photo at top. All is glamorous in my world.

He really was too good for Miss Piggy

I was up partayying all night. Okay, I was home by 10:00. Still, now I have to proofread the WORLD, so instead of blogging, I bring you this.

 

Breaking June

Last night, I dragged the Tall Boy to see the Twilight movie.

You drag a man to see a Twilight movie, it is clearly the beginning of the relationship. If we had been dating, say, even two months, I'll bet he would have said, "Yeah. Maybe call me after." But I said to him, "I'm going to see the Twilight movie. I'm certain you're not interested." and he was all, "I have very little knowledge of these movies. Yeah, I'll go."

When you are as incredibly hot as me, things like this happen all the time.

I had delivered to him the delightful news that I could fill him in on the plots of the three other movies he'd missed up till now, and in fact had offered to do interpretive dances of the films if he wanted, but somehow we just ended up making out on my couch till it was time for the movie to start. I cannot imagine why anyone would not want to see my interpretive dance skillz but there you go.

I also offered to recap the plots in beat poetry form and no I DON'T know why I haven't managed to maintain any relationships since Marvin left. What do you mean?

We got to the theater, all mussed, minutes before it was to begin and let me tell you what. First of all, every screen was showing this movie and every seat was taken by an overwrought 16-year-old girl. The two middle-aged people, who had just been making out on the couch, had to sit in the SECOND EFFING ROW, which is not at all ridiculous or anything.

Why do they even MAKE the second row? It's awful.

At least I got to see Edward close up. And could Jacob flounce out of rooms dramatically a little more often? Really, Jacob, try to be more of a puss. Jacob. World's most dramatic werewolf.

Anyway, it was good. I mean, "good" in terms of I-am-watching-a-Twilight-movie good. The 16-year-olds behind us never stopped talking once and the 16-year-old next to me checked her cell phone during the movie. Of course, mostly I just resented her for having a cell phone. I wonder if her parents would buy me one?

When we left, Tall Boy asked, "So werewolves imprint?" and I told him all about that important fact. Then he wondered why Edward lived with all those pale people so I told him that, and why there were all those graduation caps in the hallway at Edward's house and why didn't the animals Edward eats turn into vampires (good question), till finally he said, "Why am I asking about this like I care?"

I suggested he rent the other three films this weekend to get caught up. That maybe he could be America's first straight man to enjoy the Twilight series and he'd get on the Today Show or something. That show is SO for us women and gay men. They spend like an hour and a half giving us close-ups of Bella's wedding dress.

WHICH IS DIVINE, by the way.  Oh, it's long-sleeved, and fitted, and dips really low in the back but is covered in lace...

...Straight male readers? Hello?

In which June makes men do things for her and acts jerky about it

I tried to take a cute picture of Roger sunning himself but as soon as he saw me he came up to the cataracts door. That window is all scratched by dog claws and such. I can't have nothin' nice, as my grandmother would say.

Daniel Boone is here, and he is chattering like a magpie while I am trying to type this. He is one of those people who you tell, "I'm going into the other room now" or "I'm blogging now" and he keeps talking.

I should, however, stop being such a bitch, because he is ONCE AGAIN working on my screen door (he is unhappy with it. I have no idea why.) and he also unclogged my drain, which contained the most peroxided hair possible. It was like someone shoved Marilyn Monroe down there.

Oh, crap. Now we have to go to Lowe's, as DB is saying we need to get some manly device for the door. GOD. I am so PUT UPON...

Remind me to tell you about the movie Sarah's Key, which we saw last night and which was very good, except Daniel Boone is obsessed with hating Aiden Quinn. Seriously, if you ever see DB, do NOT ask him how he liked Aiden Quinn in that movie. He didn't talk about it for 394840230203 hours after. Or anything.

Also? When you see that movie? Be sure to get annoyed with me that I was saddest about the cat.

Okay, off to Lowe's. WhatEVER. Inconveniencing me in this fashion...

So the red glasses, then?

Okay, I guess generally you liked the blue frames. I say this based on the 9394539 comments that said, "The BLUE! THE BLUUUUUUUUE!"

So I just have one more query. How much do you hate me right now? The blue?

Or the frames I currently own? I have no idea why I was so crabby on this day. Perhaps I was cranky that Marvin had all that hideous music crap in my house. Guess who do not miss the hideous music crap? Guess who doesn't miss drawer after drawer of black cords? Hi, Marvin.

At any rate. Thoughts on frames again, please.

Oh! And speaking of your thoughts, guess what I actually remembered to do? I assigned a comment of the week! When I went there to paste in the current comment, I realized the last time I did it was late June. Story of my life. Late June.

Well. I don't mean I'm PREGNANT. Just late with things like comment of the week. Don't get your knickers in a twist.

Comment of the week goes to Lisa, which does not narrow it down because I have 69394193&$3 million commenters named Lisa. And someone figured out they all seem to hail from Texas. So comment of the week goes to Lisa from probably Texas, who made mature comments about ballcocks at the hardware store. Click This Week's Special if you want to be mature with us.

Speaking of mature, have you joined Pie on the Face at Facebook? Again, I am BANNED, but I can see what everyone is talking about and if you think the comments get ludicrous here, you should see them there. Go join. Prepare to get absolutely nothing done.

And while we are talking about getting nothing done, Laurie and I are not putting up my screen door today after all. We need a circular saw. I KNOW, right? Hear us roar. And not only do we need a circular saw, it needs a fine blade. Yes. A blade that is super good-looking. The Halle Berry of blades. I asked two people if they had one I could borrow and they both said yes then last night they both said oh, you know what? I thought I had a fine good-looking blade but I don't.

Sigh.

So the part where I was gonna have to go BUY one and also paint the door and also HANG the door and it is seriously almost 100 degrees out just sounded miserable so I said Laurie? Let's blow this off for another time. What say you? And she said heavens, yes.

Therefore, the only real plan I have today is that at 5:00 my friend Laura and I are joining Dick Whitman at the movies to go see FRIENDS WITH BENEFITS, written by my friend DAVE NEWMAN, who I am obviously v.v. proud of because I cannot stop plugging this movie and if I go there and find out he used any of my funny jokes in this movie I am suing the crap out of him.

Am looking forward to watching Dick Whitman buy a bag of M&Ms and eat 1/3 of said bag. Who IS this guy? Why would anyone with that much impulse control find me remotely attractive? Maybe I am fascinating to him, like an anthropological study. I am a gorilla in his mist. An M&M-eating gorilla.

Finally, before I go do nothing but clean cat fur and eat nectarines till 5:00, I wanted to share with you an image that has amused me all week. My stepsister got me a desk calendar for Christmas that I have been loving. It features advertising from days of yore, and your what I'll never know. This week's ad is below:
How much do I wish I had purchased this outfit for Hulk and his pool party last week? It is stunning. And he would have rocked it. Look at abdomen woman admiring the hell out of him. Or maybe she's just admiring that stream falling right onto her hoo-hah.

That pattern reminds me of the beginning of Rocky and Bullwinkle, remember? Really everything about the ensemble says yes to me.

You always get the good ideas after the fact.

 

Head and shoulders on the beach

Ima tell you now, I'm all over the place today. I am like that horrible joke about the astronaut whose rocket exploded and the punchline is "They found her Head & Shoulders on the beach."

I can't remember how the joke goes, but obviously it had something to do with shampoo and the explosion and don't get me to try to tell jokes. The only joke I like is:

"Ask me if I'm a train."

"Are you a train?"

"No."

I have many, many things to cover today. All of them crucial. So let us begin.

1. For those of you who read the comments, there was much hue and cry to see the tiles that Faithful Reader Furry Godmother made for Faithful Reader Paula H&B. Furry Godmother is an artiste, and yes, she needs the "e" at the end, so artitse-y is she, and one of the things she will do is paint portraits of your pets. Here is a link to a page on her site, showing you happy people hanging Furry's art.

So, Paula H&B--which if you do not read the comments or if you are new, "H&B" stands for hookers and blow, and I am sorry, you are just gonna have to imagine why. The comments here? They get ridiculous--has two cats, and Furry Godmother immortalized them on tile:

Here's Eddie, who I have the feeling is the good cat.

And here is Simon, who I never hear about unless he has done something dickly. And I hear about Simon often. Is what I'm saying.

2. Am I the only person on planet Earth who thought Cate Blanchett's dress was pretty last night? My mother called to say it was the ugliest dress she'd ever seen. My stepfather, who was raised on a dairy farm and wears gray cardigans but yesterday suddenly became Mr. Blackwell, said it looked like some kind of building.

I think it's unusual, kind of retro, it was pretty colors, and I just all around thought it was swell.

Gwyneth Paltrow, however, looked like 2001: A Space Odyssey. And I wish someone would shoot her off into space. Have I mentioned I can't even say her name without my nethers puckering up? Oh, how I cannot stand that lemony woman. She has always reminded me of a lemon. Or an egg.

3. Snowflake's brother died. Did I TELL you I'd be all over the place today? I did. I WARNED you.

Snowflake is the white dog who lives a few blocks from me, and a couple of months ago, the family got a puppy from Snowflake's mother. He has grown up since I berserkly took my camera with me when I was walking my own dog and shot this photo, and he looked exactly like Snowflake, except brown. Because genetics. They aren't just a good idea. They're the law.

At any rate, the family named him Coco, and it is my theory that this family spends approximately .027 seconds thinking of names for their dogs.

Yesterday I was walking Edsel, because I cannot walk both dogs at once and sometimes I see people idly strolling with their two big dogs and I think, "Who ARE you? What kind of PACT have you made with SATAN that you can just walk with your two big dogs and not just be a corpse being dragged behind these creatures?"

But I digress.

As I passed the Snowflake house, all the little girls who live there were in the front yard with their dad and they were busy running back and forth.

"COCO DIED!" they all screamed at me, as soon as they saw me. "CAN WE PET YER DAWG?"

Since I got Edsel, they have given up trying to guess which one I have with me. I have never said these children were the brightest bulbs, and they ARE all extremely blonde-headed. They will catch rich husbands, so it'll be fine.

I took beleagured Edsel with me to the yard, and although he is a friendly fellow, he always looks a tad...drained when we see those kids. He wags his tail and cowers at the same time.

"WE'RE PUTTIN' FLOWERS ON COCO'S GRAVE!" they screeched. I have no idea if they use these voices indoors, but I tend to think they do. "HELP US PUT FLOWERS ON COCO'S GRAVE!"

So with one hand I held Edsel, who looked like he could use a Mickey's Big Mouth, and with the other I picked the teeny white wildflowers they had in their grass. The dad told me that yesterday Coco just started breathing hard, and then he started drooling, and next thing you know he fell over dead.

"That sounds like poison," I said, over the din.

"I know," he told me, twirling his nipple rings. I wish I were making that part up. "But I got nothin' back there to poison the dogs. That stuff is all in m'shed."

"WE'RE MAKING A CROSS TO PUT ON THE GRAVE!" the oldest towhead bullhorned. And then the littlest one, who is so adorable you would die, she looks like a Cabbage Patch doll, pulled me down and said, "I miss Coco."

Oh, I felt terrible. And I am worried sick. What the hell happened? Did someone poison him? And why did they spare Snowflake? This neighborhood has more mysterious deaths. I feel like Angela Lansbury.

4. Marvin has been out of town since Thursday and I didn't want to tell you, in case any of you were crazy and wanted to come murder me to ribbons. Of course, little did I know the grim reaper was right here in my own neighborhood. At any rate, he was in Chicago, surprising his father for his birthday, which was another reason I could not say anything, as his dad checks in with this blog from time to time, and nice way to ruin a surprise.

MARVIN IS LEAVING TODAY TO SURPRISE HIS DAD! ...HI, MARVIN'S DAD!

Anyway, my point is, could I have been more frightened at night while he was gone? I was convinced I'd close my medicine cabinet and Glenn Close would be behind me, wondering why I was there.

I was certain Linda Blair would be levitating above my bed.

I just knew the Mansons were creepy-crawling my house whenever I went out and I'd be the next Sharon Tate.

I was so IRRITATED with myself. I was a swinging single gal until I was 33 years old, and I lived alone plenty. I was never scared to be alone that whole time. Then I get left alone for three nights and I fall apart. Plus when I was single I only had Mr. Horkheimer to protect me, with his cat self. Now I have a vicious Pit Bull and a mean, mean German shepherd machine.

What gives? Hate me.

5. And finally, some of you have heard me speak of my friend Sleeping Beauty, and she is finally letting me tell you SHE IS PREGNANT! And the exciting thing is, she must have conceived right when I visited her in D.C. back at the end of October, so we think I might be the father!

Oddly, she is due on my birthday, and she knows it's a girl, so I suggested she name it after me and her dog Puck. June Puck or Puck June.

She did not go for this suggestion, and I do not know why I am having a child with this woman.

Anyway, congrats to Sleeping Beauty and her boyfriend Nate, who is the only man of Sleeping B's I have ever liked.

By the way, the Beaut had to fly to China in the early stages of her pregnancy, and I can tell you right now, that is not such a good idea, queasiness-wise. She did not give me permission to tell about how she barfed in her own hair, so I will not tell that part.

And that is all I have to cover today. I know. If only I'd have changed subjects more. And how is it that I know after the first 10 comments we'll be on a whole different topic altogether?

There was more than one lobster present at the birth of Jesus?

Love Actually is an underrated movie. That's all I have to say about that. 

Carp.

And stop calling me Shirley.

Wasabi afraid. Wasabi very afraid.

There is a reason this nonaward-winning blog is so valuable. You can learn from my mistakes.

For example. If you were thinking, "Hey! Maybe a bag of wasabi peanuts for dinner would be good!" I can tell you from the adventures in my bathroom last night that it in fact is not a stellar plan.

I went to the movies after work last night. There is this cute, pretentious movie theater in my work neighborhood that shows cute, pretentious art films. It is where I saw that Coco Chanel/Igor Stravinsky movie a few weeks back and wanted to cut my hair like Coco Chanel, remember?

Coco is the one in the white suit. I do not wish to cut my hair into a combover.

Last night they were showing a documentary on Joan Rivers, which I know sounds redunkulous, but it was all about how she wants to stay relevant, and how she keeps working even though she's 75, and it was sort of fascinating.

When I walked in, the ticket girl totally had a black curly bob. "Did you cut your hair like that after the Coco movie?" I asked her. "Yes," she said. Then she told me where she got it cut and they style they used to cut it, and she looked at my hair and said, "But my hair is really thick."

!!!

Does my hair not LOOK thick? How could you think this hair is anything other than thick? I spent half of the Joan Rivers movie worrying that my hair isn't thick enough, which trust me, is a first.

The point is, I opted for Wahhabi peanuts and a bottle of water instead of popcorn or wine or giant bags of M&Ms. I thought I was being sort of healthy.

Man, that wasabi was hot. I had to keep pausing while it cleared out my whole face parts. My tongue hurts today like it's burned.

It wasn't till I got home that I started feeling not so fresh. I continued that not-so-fresh feeling until 5 o'clock this morning. Not pretty.

So that's my sexy story.

Oh, and hey! Speaking of stories, what book are we gonna read for book club? I was thinking maybe we could read something from our childhood, like Charlotte's Web or James and the Giant Peach or something. What say you?

Before I go walk around gingerly, cursing the inventor of wasabi, Hulk wanted me to get everyone's opinion even though I have given him him mine and I know I'm right.

The other day he told me his cat, who he doesn't even want but his old girlfriend gave it to him and his daughter got attached so what are you gonna do, started getting bumps on its chin. I know when cats eat and drink out of plastic bowls, they can get a bacteria buildup that results in these bumps.

Hulk poo-pooed my theory. I told him to get ceramic bowls. Or stainless steel. Again, "poo-poo," said Hulk.

So yesterday he calls me to say, speaking of poo-poo, that now the cat is POO-POOing on his throw rug. My theory is the cat doesn't feel well because of his chin and he's trying to say, "GET ME NEW BOWLS, DAD!"

Quoth Hulk, "Poo-poo."

He wants me to ask all of you so that you give him an answer he likes better. Let us know. Thank you.

Maybe his cat ate wasabi peanuts for dinner.