Tuesday, February 19, 2008
I'm obsessed and considering ordering a case from the manufacturer.
Today is day 2 of my diet and all I can think about is Ketchup Potato Chips (or, as we called them back home, Tomato Sauce Crisps).
They're readily available in Canada and the border is a measely ONE hour from here. I could have a sweet set of red fingers in less time that it takes to watch Iron Chef America.
It's so tempting.
So, I'm going back a couple of weeks and revisiting things that bring us joy. My Dad (now a full 3 months since his last chemo treatment and apparently regrowing nose hair) added his this weekend and I thought they were the perfect way to start the week.
So...without further ado...my Dad's joy.
1. Easing into my bed at the end of the day ... slowly settling back into my memory foam pillows (yes, more than one)and feeling the day's crap oozing out of the soles of my feet.
2. Watching my client experiencing that crucial "AHA!" moment after a flawless intervention.
3. If you have a box of Merlot ... move over on the sofa.
4. The missus coming home after a day in the salt mines. Nothing like comparing notes on the latest symptoms of serious mental disease in the corporate cesspool.
5. The first three continuous swigs of Guiness. When you can breathe again even the in rush of air tastes bitter. Somehow I then have an urge to read half a page from any Mave Binchey book.
6. Gassing with my offspring on the phone ... figurtatively... oh, what the hell ... and literally. It is a family gift.
7. Those realtively rare phone discussions with Brian in Toronto, Kems in New Zealand and, Els in Holland.
8. A braai with my in-law brothers and sisters. I savour (savor?) it most when I've found their stash of GOOD booze.
9. A nap with a dog next to me.
10. The end of a flight on American Airlines. Their motto ... "we'll get you there but we don't care if you enjoy it."
Now about that Guiness ...
... my compass points ...
New post tomorrow...I promise! With pictures!
Sunday, February 10, 2008
My husband, complex and occasionally even bordering on profound, laughs like a simpleton every time this commercial comes on. Watching him is actually funnier than watching the commercial. Even after the fourth, fifth and sixth viewing, he laughs until there's no sound coming out of his mouth.
Should I stop saving for Harvard for the kids?
Friday, February 1, 2008
And I'm watching America's Next Top Model Season 3...again.
My God, how many ANTM marathons can MTV run? Not that I'm complaining...I can't get enough of that shiz!
In the beginning of the show they torture all these gangly, anorexic and frankly, homely girls by putting 20 something of them in an apartment to fight it out for a spot in the top 13. It's awesome...lots of tears and drama. Very catty, very fun to watch.
"That bitch is so fat. Does she really think there's a place for a plus size model in this competition?"
And she wears a size 2 and her parttime job is binging and purging.
Then, once a half dozen have been sent packing (sobbing...in disbelief that Tyra overlooked their true inner beauty), the real show begins.
At some point early in each season, the girls are treated to a full makeover. There's highlights and coloring, hair flying, weaves weaving.
And more tears.
Do you know what I would give to have Louis Vicari hack away at my do? And professional makeup artist treat my face as a blank canvas (albeit a wrinkly one)?
Puh-lease. Shut it up and get back to puking already.
Each week the show starts with the girls competing for a "prize"...a bag of makeup from CVS or some such crap. They usually look all nappy and natural...no makeup and hair in a pony tail. Once a challenge winner has been chosen, the next 20minutes are devoted to the rest of girls tearing her to shreds.
But then the real modeling contest starts. A team of professionals descends on each girl and they're transformed into birds, animals, dead people...whatever. It's freakin' amazing! Makes me think that the only thing that stood between me and a modeling career is a pallet of clown makeup.
Anyway, once the photographer has each models' best shot, the images go to the photoshop department where they're altered so much that you can no longer identify which girl you're looking at.
The final glossies then make their way to Tyra and the most fabulous drag queen on the planet, Miss J, to be judged. There's usually a couple of other judges, but the two queens are the ones that count.
Then, my absolute favorite part...when Tyra's decision is handed down.
"Ten girls stand before me. And I only have nine pho-tos in my hands."
The tension, the suspense, the tears...