February 2008 Archives

If we could wear something like this every day.

**

At the office, your boss would be like, "(Employee) could you. . . "

And you could just point down to your fashionable coat and not say a word.

Your boss, "But I just need you to. . . "

Again, you'd motion down to your superfly collar and draw a line in the air under it.

Your boss could ask again, but they would just look silly. And, they would definitely not be as cool as you are in this coat.

At home, your spouse/partner/kids/etc. would say, "Did you. . wash clothes, cook dinner, lose the binkie (that's a pacifer, for those who don't have little babies), pay the rent, etc.

Again, you could just point down to your coat.

And it is not only good for work and home, but also at the grocery store, at the used car place or with thos pesky broads at the make-up counter.

The possibilities are really, really endless.

So simple, yet so useful.

Love it.

*The photo is from a fashion show, and was written about by our good friends at www.perezhilton.com

I'm not sure what PETA was trying to say with this display in London this week.

Was the animal-rights group saying. . .

That fat girls make good pigs for random demonstrations?

That moms are pigs?

That boobs on display mean don't eat pigs?

Pig cages are cool decorations and come with scantly-clad juicy girls?

I have no idea.

However, I'm not keen on them putting this pleasantly plump girl on display. Again, what are they trying to say?

Then again, I guess she had to agree to be put in a cage, darn near naked, in the middle of the street for all to see her jiggly parts.

Sigh.

What a world, dear readers. What a world.

*Thanks to www.perezhilton.com for the link to the PETA demonstration. He's one of my favorite hot spots for gossip and other web weirdness.

I busted my rump on the stairs Sunday.

My assistant and I were headed out for a Wal-Mart trip.

I was excited to leave the house, because I hadn't been outside for several years, I mean, days.

So, I was in my usual position, one hand on the railing, one hand on the wall and standing on one foot, ready to hop down the flight of stairs in my apartment.

My friend was saying something funny to me. I told him to shut up.

As the old folks say, God don't lik ugly so. . .

I went to hop down and lost my footing.

I crash landed on my humps.

My friend rushed up the steps to help. I was OK. I even laughed a little.

I was more shocked than hurt. I've actually been pretty lucky, and haven't fell much since I broke my ankle.

Boy, I'm glad I have some extra cushioning back there (take that, obesity experts).

If I hadn't, things could've been ugly.

So, I'm a little bruised, but I felt better after watching this YouTube video about celebrity falls.

Beyonce, I feel your pain.

A friend of mine passed this video on to me.

I'm not a fan of the sandwich and what does a baseball bat have to do with it?

However, this cat is getting down, and the tune is kinda catchy.

I think Mo and Seven party like this at night while I'm sleeping. This helps explain why I can't get any good sleep.

In the good news department, I think I've found a new ringtone.

Someone even thought this would be a good idea for an American Idol audition.

Nice.

Can't get enough? Here's more.

the Oscars' fashion round-up. I know you're dying to know who looked a hot mess on the red carpet.

Since you guys are at work, I rounded up some stuff for you, including this "Worst Dressed Lists" from the Oscars at Yahoo!

This one from E!Online, allows you to waste countless productive work hours voting on whether you like the clothes or not.

The Fashion Police poke fun at those who may or may not have been in style at the Oscars last night.

I'm kind of disappointed that our friends at MSN's Undressed always need a day or so after the Oscars to get the witty captions together for the worst dressed.

Undressed needs to get with the program and have stuff done the day after the Oscars, not on Tuesday or another day later this week.

Here's their Oscar photos, without any snarky comments. Darn.

I found one on the MSN site with the Oscar highlights in pictures, but the captions are drab.

Like Undressed, I guess we'll have to wait until People hits the newsstand this week to see their best and worst dressed Oscar picks.

Just in case you're like me, and don't want to read the full, AP story to find out who won what award, here's the list.

In case you missed it, here's my take on zombies.

Any suggestions?

Should women be offended that Starbucks is calling its new, cheaper coffee options, "skinny."

Apparently, some were.

Starbucks is offering more low-fat coffee and latte options, and have used the word, "skinny," in several ads and commercials.

According to this article, folks lit up the blogs and other online forums saying they were insulted by the new "skinny" ads.

I don't like coffee, so I don't really care.

However, I do enjoy a $3.28 venti cup of ice tea lemonade whenever I go shopping at Target.

Has anyone seen these ads or commercials?

Do any of you care?

I tried to find the commericials on YouTube and a few other video sites, but the search kept bringing up videos of Britney Spears' many trips to the coffee giant.

I wonder if she finds the ads offensive.

Someone should ask her.

Where I'm from, duct tape is the very fabric that holds life together.

With my dad at the helm, my family used duct tape for everything - repairing stuff, building stuff, holding stuff together, maintaining vehicles, kidnapping people. . .

(For all the FBI agents reading my blog today, that was a joke. . . or was it?)

Anywho, with my current "situation" duct tape has been invaluable.

It has helped me get around in my main mode of transportation since Jan. 5 or so, my computer chair and walker combo (shown here as exhibit A).

Yes, that is my Christmas tree and other holiday decorations in the background.

I'm not ashamed that it's almost March and they are still up.

They make me happy.

In my defense, I broke my ankle on Jan. 3, and didn't have time to take the down.

(And probably wouldn't have anyway, as anyone who knows me will tell you.)

But I'm getting off topic. This is all about the duct tape.

I went to the doctor's Thursday for a check on my broken ankle.

I got to look at my x-rays again. After about six weeks, you can barely see where the bones were broken.

You can still see where I chipped the bone on the back of my ankle, which still really hurts.

The x-rays also show all my hardware - 11 screws and a metal plate - that hold the ankle in place.

However, everything is healing up nicely, and my pedicure (the new one) looks great.

My doctor said I've been an ideal patient (obviously, his nursing manager hasn't told him how I've called her every week at least once a week to ask a frantic question).

He look at my foot and said everything is lining back up nicely.

This week, I'm even allowed to start putting a little bit of weight on it.

How exciting!

Also, the bruising and darkness on the broken ankle has practically faded away. My skin looks almost normal (except for Frankenstienish surgery scars on both sides of my ankle).

Flavor of Love on VH1?

I've been known to watch this hot mess of a reality show in all its ghettofabulousness.

This dose of reality television is a quest to find love for Flava Flav, a hip-hop personality who used to be a front man for rap legends and the supergroup, Public Enemy.

I hate to admit it, but the show's kind of addictive.

I get a kick out of watching these hootchies fight over a hip-hop has been who looks like an ugly bug.

Brit-Brit still doesn't have control of her business.

However, that may be a good thing, given her track record of late.

Her estranged father, Jamie Spears, will continue taking care of things like paying bills and the like until at least March 10, a judge decided this week.

In the current issue of Rolling Stone, a writer focuses on the tragedy of Brit-Brit's current slide, OK, free fall, from grace.

The article online only has the highlights. You'll have to get the magazine for the full 411.

I just want to go outside. . .

Can a sister get her Target shopping on?

Without a walker
Without a wheelchair
and by her darn self!

Can I just go out without it being a big production, and without needing several production assistants to get this big girl on the road?

To leave my second-floor apartment, I have to:

1. Hop down 20 or so steps on one leg,
2. Use a walker to get through the foyer (still hopping on the good leg)
3. Get help outside the door
4. Hop down like eight more steps with assistance
5. Use the walker (and hop) to get to the car.

Needless to say, this sucks.

By the time I get outside, I just want to go back in the house and go to sleep because just trying to leave the house sucks up all my energy.

(Don't mind me - I'm frustrated, and having a pity party for one. . . bear with me - the whining continues below.)

I just want to go to Target and look at its beautiful products with a cup of Starbucks' ice tea lemonade in my hand and a smile on my face.

Is that too much to ask?

So, you've probably guessed it by now - I'm going a little stir crazy from being in the house for days and days on end.

I know the weather is bad, and it's unsafe for me to go out right now, but I really, really just want to get out of my apartment.

Does anyone have a forklift I could borrow?

Guess not.

Like my niece would say when she's upset, "Waaaaaaaaaaaaaah!"

Sigh. . .

I need a hug.

Ok, some of them shined at the music awards show Sunday night.

But what was up with Alicia Keyes' hair?

And who told Rhianna that dress was cute?

Why did Jay-z look so confused?

These and other questions, like how Herbie Hancock won album of the year, are mysteries that will remained unsolved.

Until then, I wanted to help you waste some of your work day looking at the Grammy fashion hits and misses from Yahoo.com.

If you find any other ugly Grammy pictures, send them to the blog.

to put my foot flat on the floor.

That's what I did tonight.

I could feel the softness of the carpet on my feet and its warmth.

I know this may not seem like a big deal, but this is the foot with the broken ankle.

It hasn't touched any floor or floor covering since Jan. 3.

This, dear readers, is a big step. I'll be wearing high heels again in no time!

All I can say is. . .

This rocks!

what Michael Jackson's children actually look like?

Since they were little, MJ never lets them go out in public without their faces and heads covered completely.

News organizations have offered the paps hefty fees if they could get photos of the elusive children.

Here's a story from one tabloid that claims they have reached the photo moutain top, and have the first real photos of MJ's offspring.

They're not bad looking kids, either.

All those healthy meals my mom made during the first weeks after my broken ankle are paying off.

So far, I haven't gained ANY weight.

I'm still holding at about 250.

I've lost a few pounds, but mostly that the muscle that used to be on my the calf of my left leg (the one with the broken ankle).

Now, the calf just looks deflated, and flops around whenever I lift it up (think flabby arm fat and the way it jiggles).

So, life is good.

Stay tuned for a detailed Britney Spears update coming later this week . . . .

In the big shock department, officials said today that Heath Ledger died of a drug overdose.

Ledger had a combination of medicines that included sleeping pills and other medications that proved to be deadly.

His death is another Hollywood precautionary tale, and one that could've been avoided.

Now, there's another little girl who won't get to really know her father.

Too sad.

When you hurt yourself like this (the broken ankle), you need moral support.

Mine has come in several forms.

Jan. 29

My youngest niece, Kaiya, will be 3 next month.

She's a short little thing, with a mop of curly hair. This is her:

With her help, I was able to overcome some fears and get through a really hard task - climbing up the steps.

In other news, Howard K. Stern, Anna Nicole Smith's fake baby-daddy, is still putting the "k" in classy.

In a lawsuit, a witness testified that Stern, ever loving and supportive of Smith's family, took photos of Smith's dead son after collapsed last year.

Nice.

This guy is still top notch, and proves that even a broke lawyer can aspire to great things like leeching off a not-so-bright starlet for money.

I would say he needs to be ashamed of himself, but any man who keeps letting his woman pay for everything probably doesn't have any shame.

I'm just sayin.'