Steve Martin could say, "Onions give me the shits" and I would still laugh, flip my hair, bat my eyes and throw myself at him. I think he is so talented. He writes touching and insightful stories about the human condition, incredible social satire, hilarious movies and also happens to be a great banjo player. I admire him deeply for his ability to step back and point out the obscure inanity that is our society. I have all but one of his publications- plays and books. And I'm totally buying his banjo album.
My dad introduced me to Steve Martin's humor when I was a kid. Dad loves The Jerk, Bowfinger and "Two Wild and Crazy Guys" among others. Dad would goof off as one of the "guys" and make me laugh each time. So maybe it's the association I have of my father that makes Steve Martin so special to me. But when I got to college I found out Steve Martin was a published author. Once I started reading his works I was smitten. Then I went and watched everything I could and I grew a boner. (Mike isn't threatened. If anything my attraction to Steve Martin means Mike has it made. I am undeterred by white hair and age. I'm all about what's in the attic- and Mike's attic is pretty sexy.)
I'm not going to deny that Steve Martin has lately chosen projects that haven't turned out all that great. He's making many, not so funny, family comedies which is strange because when actors do that it's because they have kids and want to start making projects that their children can actually see them in. Steve Martin has no children so I wonder if he just likes acting silly. It's not like he needs the paycheck or doesn't have many other artistic projects going on. Hey, it's his prerogative.
Anyway, crap aside I'm putting up some things of his I enjoy. I hope they make you smile.
Hubba hubba. I mean really. Yowza.
But my favorite as of late:
Steve Martin is sublime.
February 19, 2009
February 17, 2009
Feel Free to Answer
Hyperbole, epitome and dichotomy rhyme. So why doesn't dichotomy end with an e as well?
The only true high noon exists on the equator. So how did gunslingers of the Wild West know when to meet if they didn't have a watch?
All the boys in grade school were dicks to me. Does that mean I was the hottest girl in elementary school?
Saint Valentine was crucified and we honor him by eating heart shaped things. Isn't that being a tad insensitive?
The only true high noon exists on the equator. So how did gunslingers of the Wild West know when to meet if they didn't have a watch?
All the boys in grade school were dicks to me. Does that mean I was the hottest girl in elementary school?
Saint Valentine was crucified and we honor him by eating heart shaped things. Isn't that being a tad insensitive?
February 12, 2009
The Blood of This Babe? I Don't Think So
My uniform of choice is a t-shirt with jeans and sneakers. Lately I've been branching out to other shoes like slip-ons. I know, what a stretch. But I've also been buying some nice business shoes here and there should I ever have a job that requires a nicer wardrobe. Luckily you can still wear most of those shoes with jeans so win-win, right? Well, not so much. I need to wear socks since my feet sweat more than I'd like to admit and most shoes that are business appropriate require hosiery or bare feet. (Anyone I know who insists sweating feet is strange has mutant feet [you know who you are.]) I usually opt for bare feet otherwise the shoes won't fit right. Hence, mostly the sneakers- they bypass all these problems.
The other day I decided to wear a really comfortable pair of business flats that look good with jeans while I walked around the mall. Look at me- all fashionable and crap. They fit my feet like a glove, a lovely leather glove, except in the heels. I expect blisters and other discomfort whenever I go sockless because my feet are soft and fragile and not used to such abuse. What I don't expect, however, is blood. A lot of blood. Here I am walking around the mall ignoring the usual pain until I go try on some pants. In taking off the sausage casing that are the slim jeans I tried on, I look down to my heel and see that I'm bleeding all over myself. I look into my corresponding shoe and there is blood all along the back of the shoe! I'm horrified not only for my body but because I tried on a pair of slip-ons before I knew I was bleeding everywhere and now I had to buy them because I got my DNA all over them. How could I leave them for some unsuspecting hypochondriac to buy them? I wouldn't be alright with myself or with Karma. I can't afford to lose another side mirror.
I brought sneakers and socks with me in case the pain was too much but before I could get to my sneakers in the car I bought a cheap pair of Vans and put those puppies on in the middle of the mall. My feet are still killing me a few days later and I was able to get most of the blood out of all the shoes involved in the blood spree. I keep telling myself that if I go sockless more often my feet will toughen up and this won't be such a problem but I just don't think this is worth it. If I keep it up I'll be one pair of kitten heels away from anemia. No thank you.
The other day I decided to wear a really comfortable pair of business flats that look good with jeans while I walked around the mall. Look at me- all fashionable and crap. They fit my feet like a glove, a lovely leather glove, except in the heels. I expect blisters and other discomfort whenever I go sockless because my feet are soft and fragile and not used to such abuse. What I don't expect, however, is blood. A lot of blood. Here I am walking around the mall ignoring the usual pain until I go try on some pants. In taking off the sausage casing that are the slim jeans I tried on, I look down to my heel and see that I'm bleeding all over myself. I look into my corresponding shoe and there is blood all along the back of the shoe! I'm horrified not only for my body but because I tried on a pair of slip-ons before I knew I was bleeding everywhere and now I had to buy them because I got my DNA all over them. How could I leave them for some unsuspecting hypochondriac to buy them? I wouldn't be alright with myself or with Karma. I can't afford to lose another side mirror.
I brought sneakers and socks with me in case the pain was too much but before I could get to my sneakers in the car I bought a cheap pair of Vans and put those puppies on in the middle of the mall. My feet are still killing me a few days later and I was able to get most of the blood out of all the shoes involved in the blood spree. I keep telling myself that if I go sockless more often my feet will toughen up and this won't be such a problem but I just don't think this is worth it. If I keep it up I'll be one pair of kitten heels away from anemia. No thank you.
February 11, 2009
Just Not Meant to Be I Guess
This past summer Aimee Mann had a free concert at the park one block from my apartment. As I am a huge fan of hers I went to see it and sang along with everything. As I am a truly ginormous fan of hers Mike and I stayed behind to meet her. After much waiting and almost leaving she finally came out of her bus to meet the hand full of devoted followers. Everyone had something to sign, I just wanted a picture. Since I don't handle celebrity well ("Oh my God! I love everything that you do!") I simply told her that she was robbed of her Oscar and asked for a photo. Our digital camera decided it wanted to be a shit and not work in the dark. This is what I got:
Last night Mike and I went to see my favorite columnist Dan Savage. It was at the SUNY Albany campus and we were able to sit very close to him. He was funny and answered tons of questions. He was fabulous. Naturally I wanted him to sign my book and get a photo with him. He was very nice and answered a quick question of mine and then it was time for my picture! Mike wanted to stay back and avoid the bottleneck crowd so I asked the person behind me if she wouldn't mind taking my picture with my cell phone since my camera shit the bed. This is what I got:
I suppose I'm just never going to have any real evidence of meeting famous people I admire. Le sigh. At least I have the stories!
You can tell it's me and you can tell it's Aimee Mann but it's still a bummer. At least she was really nice and took two pictures with me and my busted camera.
Last night Mike and I went to see my favorite columnist Dan Savage. It was at the SUNY Albany campus and we were able to sit very close to him. He was funny and answered tons of questions. He was fabulous. Naturally I wanted him to sign my book and get a photo with him. He was very nice and answered a quick question of mine and then it was time for my picture! Mike wanted to stay back and avoid the bottleneck crowd so I asked the person behind me if she wouldn't mind taking my picture with my cell phone since my camera shit the bed. This is what I got:
I suppose I'm just never going to have any real evidence of meeting famous people I admire. Le sigh. At least I have the stories! February 5, 2009
I Did Not Shake My Money Maker
Whenever I swim for my morning workout I shower for the day at the Y right afterwards. I figured I'm already wet and I need to get the chlorine out of my hair as soon as possible to prevent damage. I'm usually alone in the upstairs locker room but I still shower in the stall because I don't want to give a show for free. I don't want my regulars to get jealous.
Well today I was not alone. In fact, you could say I showered with someone. The said someone took my shower stall and DIDN'T EVEN CLOSE THE CURTAIN! She's in the only stall that has hot water and I'm out in the open. The wide-communal-shower open. Blerg. So we're showering and she DOESN'T TAKE OFF HER SWIMSUIT! At this point I'm like, forget this- I have got to shower! We're adults right? She can handle the blinding white of my ass. Right? I keep my suit on while I wash my hair and face as a courtesy but the suit had to come off sometime. And I reached that time. And there we were. I'm trying to clean my shit and get out of there when I realize she's searching each soap dispenser for soap! She had to check each dispenser, including the one next to my boob before she found any. Awkward? You betcha.
I hightail it out of there to put on some clothes and she stays in the shower for another five minutes. In the open stall. With her swimsuit on. With no one else around her. Whatever. I should've expected such ass-hattery because she didn't shower before she got into the pool. She walked right by me and the sign that said "SHOWER BEFORE ENTERING THE POOL" and she didn't blink an eye. Oh.... maybe doesn't have any eyes... Nope. Just a jerk. A jerk who got a free show.
Well today I was not alone. In fact, you could say I showered with someone. The said someone took my shower stall and DIDN'T EVEN CLOSE THE CURTAIN! She's in the only stall that has hot water and I'm out in the open. The wide-communal-shower open. Blerg. So we're showering and she DOESN'T TAKE OFF HER SWIMSUIT! At this point I'm like, forget this- I have got to shower! We're adults right? She can handle the blinding white of my ass. Right? I keep my suit on while I wash my hair and face as a courtesy but the suit had to come off sometime. And I reached that time. And there we were. I'm trying to clean my shit and get out of there when I realize she's searching each soap dispenser for soap! She had to check each dispenser, including the one next to my boob before she found any. Awkward? You betcha.
I hightail it out of there to put on some clothes and she stays in the shower for another five minutes. In the open stall. With her swimsuit on. With no one else around her. Whatever. I should've expected such ass-hattery because she didn't shower before she got into the pool. She walked right by me and the sign that said "SHOWER BEFORE ENTERING THE POOL" and she didn't blink an eye. Oh.... maybe doesn't have any eyes... Nope. Just a jerk. A jerk who got a free show.
February 4, 2009
Greatfulness
“Saying thank you is more than good manners. It is good spirituality.”
-Alfred Painter
-Alfred Painter
Every day I am deeply thankful that I have the gift of sight, of speech, of touch, of taste, of audio, and of mobility. I can take in each sunset, I can sing my favorite song, I can wrap my arms around people I love, I can eat my mother's pasta sauce, I can hear Mike's voice while I dance with him. I hope I never take those gifts for granted. I am truly blessed.
February 3, 2009
A Day Late and a Dollar Short
Chaos made me forget to post this yesterday:
Bing!
This movie holds a dear place in my heart. I flippin' love it. I don't know how Bill Murray does it but his deadpan delivery kills me every time. I don't think I will ever stop laughing out loud to this movie. Happy Belated Groundhog Day!
February 1, 2009
The Econo-meter
Mike and I are watching the Superbowl at home. I threw him a little party and we've been hanging out together. I kind of love it. Anyway, we've been watching the commercials as intently as the game itself and we noticed a lot of old commercials being re-aired. I think it's really telling that companies aren't throwing the money they used to throw at the Superbowl commercials. Who knew the Superbowl would be the gauge for the economic standing of America? And if this is really the case, the economy is in the shitter.
ps- Go Daddy commercials are stupid.
ps- Go Daddy commercials are stupid.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)