Filed under: and... judged., domestical, what's going on here | Tags: bpd, buffalo, byron brown, chippewa, christian, dancing, delaware avenue, green, irish, new york fashion week, orange men, parade, st. patrick's day, step, strollers, syracuse, tow trucks, yellow brick road
so, yesterday i dabbled with st. patricks’s day. now, hear you me– buffalo does not “get” this holiday, but apparently embarassing our families is enough of a consolation. for example: my agenda for the day involved commenting 17 times on the beautiful weather (check), glaring at people blowing smoke in the faces of piggy-backing children (check), and booing “mayor” byron brown (sidenote: we did not throw things at him, simply because it would be shamelessly determined a hate crime. our cries for a more compatent mayor were not fueled by color of his skin, but by the content of his mayoral portfolio). checky mc checkerton.
we migrate along delaware avenue weaving in and out of college grads, the clinically obese, and the infamous obstacles simply known as “strollers”. there are bagpipes and little girls bucking and jumping up and down whilst sporting the most heinous of weaves. there are the most effervescent shades of green dotted with guinness splattered whites and jungle juice tainted oranges. it’s not exactly new york fashion week.
but at the end of the afternoon, when the last of the bellowing christian elitists throw out the remainder of pamphlets that will allegedly save our damned souls and the curb cannot possibly cradle another rattling empty, the red sea of debauchery is split. we spill into the street (thanks to the lingering effects of the detours) in a mangled, yet unified wave. throwing our bodies forward, and hoping that our legs will follow, we charge to the bars. in the middle of the road lie parade float debris– candies and beads that were refused, thrown with the elbow forward, or damaged in transit– all of which map our route like some tragic yellow brick road.
tow trucks outnumber police cruisers– not to say that there are a lot of tow trucks. at this point, every cop is backed into some alley way with his car turned off, trying to enjoy his blood alcohol level.
for the most part, yesterday was a success, unless you made the critical error of going to the parade with your girlfriend/boyfriend (i’m sure i heard at least 4 couples call it quits while the female half was wearing what was left of a headband with clover-tipped antennae). the sun was out, only prompting a few bottom heavy lasses to dress like jameson shot girls. the weather was marvelous, the crowd was cheerful, and i only used the phrase “hulk angry” to describe a tipsy female once.
this rambling is all my long winded way of saying happy st. patrick’s day. go orange.
Filed under: domestical, sporty spice | Tags: 24-20, 43, arizona cardinals, baby, bud light, budweiser, channing tatum, chris farley, commercial, doritos, e-trade, ftizgerald, g.i joe, gatorade G, get out of jail free, hinds ward, jack black, jason mcelwain, john belushi, kurt warner, land of the lost, matt leinart, meeting, michael cera, mike tomlin, monopoly, pittsburg steelers, polamalu, rochester, roethlisberger, santonio holmes, super bowl, superbowl, type-cast, what G means to me, will ferrell, XLIII, year one, youtube
being from the capital of north america, buffalo ny, my love of all things underdog meant i had an obligation to cheer for the cardinals. in other words, i watched the super bowl to vicariously live my football dreams through kurt warner. (side note: maybe next century, matt leinart. you should probably go home and play with your kid.)
as a female, i watched the super bowl for
1. kurt warner, the rags-to-riches story that is so decadent, oprah keeps it in her nightstand next to the lube and…
2. the commercials. you can talk during the game all you want, but prepare yourself for core meltdown if you so much as chew with your mouth open during a media time out.
now everytime i see a snow globe barrel through a vending machine, i’ll crave doritos. nice.
will ferrell’s movie doesn’t impress me.
but the g.i. joe movie? omigaw yes. (tan, stoic, backwards hat-wearing channing tatum will be my get-out-of-jail-free card when i’m married–purely because he is not my type. duh).
and how about michael cera, starring as the small spoon in ‘year one.’ he’s is so adorable with his awkward, “it’s not illegal to picture me naked– you’ll just feel guilty” naivite. other than being the clinically obese, perpetually drunk best friend (chris farley, john belushi), cera has the ultimate type-cast.
budweiser, the silly ho of super bowl commercial history, had me unimpressed with the absurdity of booze-fueled corporate meetings. then, it redeemed itself. (but it almost didn’t.)
gatorade G made my mom’s eyes water:
e-trade made my mom angry that there are no e-trade grandchildren in the near future (if everything goes as planned):
and here is golf baby. i mean, shameless. who doesn’t love babies sporting bite-sized hats.
Filed under: domestical | Tags: andy samberg, bromance, bromosexual, comedy, i love you man, jaime pressley, jason segal, john favreau, john hamburg, new movie, paul rudd, rashida jones, the office
the 90’s were the metrosexual revolution.
the 00’s (i made that decade abbreviation up. but it means 2000-2009) are the bromosexual invasion– and finally some good can come of it.
rarely do i go to the movies to see comedies (i only watch indie, european, and pokemon films in public. you should too). however, i am making an exception for ’i love you, man’. here’s the trailer.
note the scene when he doesn’t clean up after his dog. spec. tac. u. lar.
Filed under: and... judged., domestical | Tags: $5 billion, adult film, alaska, ann coulter, anna nicole smith, bailout, barracuda, bristol, cnn, federal, girls gone wild, girls with low self-esteem, governor, grandchild, guilty, guinness, hustler, j howard, joe francis, larry flynt, mankini, mccain/palin, medusa, milf, nailin' palin, palin, playboy, porn industry, sarah, std, venereal disease, world record
sarah palin. ugh. apparantly, she’s going out hard for the guinness world record’s most nagging politician.
my thoughts?– she found out that larry flynt and joe francis (with his venereal disease mankini) are asking that the porn industry receive a $5 billion federal bailout. with the adult film industry demanding a preemptive cushion, who wouldn’t blame her for taking it personally.
with “nailin’ palin” having come out two months ago, it must be a shock that her MILF status
1. didn’t inspire the heroine that the adult film industry needs so badly, and
2. failed to put her above ann “medusa” coulter as the uber-conservative postergirl.
my recommendation?– i think that she should move somewhere remote (alaska) where no one will ever have to hear her terrible whinny of a voice, find a new cause to preoccupy her time (grandchild) and continue doing what she’s best at (scaring the living hell out of her husband/the bottom).
Filed under: domestical, what's going on here | Tags: 2009, amber lee ettinger, anderson cooper, barack, cease-fire, hamas, israel, malia, michelle, obama, obama girl, sasha, school, sidwell friends, violations, washington
someone (some people?) started school today.
file that under “don’t care.”
to be perfectly honest, i think anderson cooper would be proud of my complete apathy regarding the obamas’ social happenings. after all, isn’t there a little bit of an issue in israel to worry about?– something with missiles and cease-fire violations?
no?
anybody?
hello?
ugh. hopeless. all of you.
Filed under: domestical, so i guess this is growing up | Tags: the hills, lc, heidi montag, oprah, lady gaga, buffalo news, nirvana, trendy, 2006, vampire weekend, mesh shirts, spencer, lauren conrad, christina aguilera, pearl jam, hootie and the blowfish, sheryl crow, googoo dolls, spin doctors, the cranberries, sublime, santeria, white zombie, rob zombie, real mccoy, gina g, richard marx, spice girls, dmx, ace of base, O magazine, military, structure, blouse, chamise, beach hair, wigs for kids, locks of love, chain, medallion, scarves, scarf, softlips, blistex, burt's bees, chapstick, arrested development, bluths, the office, gob, michael scott, illusions, magic, jock jams, espn, lizzie mcguire, high school musical, 2009, wicked, popular, elphaba, glinda
so, every magazine and newspaper has the time to forecast what we’ll listen to, watch, kill for, wear, make counterfeit copies of, dance to, cry over, make youtube videos about, steal, bootleg, and ruin friendships for. being that i’m so trendy i can’t escape myself, i’m going to list off everything that i was into three years ago, thereby predicting what will be HAWT this year. (note: i’m not seeing the hills, mesh shirts or vampire weekend in your future. bummer).
buffalo news says: lady gaga. if you haven’t heard her, she’s pretty good. i know she’s already on the radio, but let’s think of everyone who puked out something and stuck around. she’s talented. boom. LG sounds like christina aguilera without the belting and brassy tone. her music?- think jock jams meets gay bar (and they become friends– nothing more).
i say: music from the 90’s. pearl jam, hootie and the blowfish, sheryl crow, nirvana, the googoo dolls, the spin doctors, the cranberries, sublime (not just ’santeria,’ posers), white zombie along with– guilty pleasure, much?– real mccoy, gina g, richard marx, spice girls, DMX, and ace of base.
O magazine says: “it’s 2009! take a deep breath and blow off your old fashion rules.”
i say: oh. god. no.
i re-group and say:
1. military-style jackets, in black. longer cut helps me avoid looking like a hobbit. sleeves look great rolled up (for when i feel like showing off my arm hair, duh).
1a. structured blouses: not belted. not wrap-around. maybe sheer. buy lots and get at least two black ones. they’re cute and whether paired with a skirt or jeans you’ve been running miles to fit into, you should copy me and buy these.
what annoys me is every magazine that tells you how to take a look from daytime (work) to night (trying to get attention wherever there are drink specials). all they do is put a mannish cardigan over a halter and tell you to keep your “f*** me” shoes in your desk drawer until you do the old switcheroo at 4:58. good lord. how about, you wear something you won’t be tugging at all day. better yet, how about you remember that you have a day job, so carousing about in a strappy who-knows-what is completely unnecessary.
2. beach hair: i’m not talking about using bumble and bumble’s overpriced water-in-a-bottle. i mean growing out your reversed bob (had that ‘do in highschool), chopping some weight off the bottom (“layering”), conditioning your hair like “wigs for kids” depends on it, and blow-drying with your head upside down whilst brushing with a paddle brush. then, when you get sick of it/it’s ten inches more than you want, you donate it.
3. long necklaces: in lieu of long scarves of course, and preferably, chains with medallions. take that, indie pop culture.
4. softlips: blistex/burt’s bees/chapstick got nothin’ on softlips. end of story.
maxim magazine says: watch hilary duff and vanessa hudgens.
i say: watch ‘arrested development’. everyone will watch this in 2009. if you think ‘the office’ is funny (which, let’s just say, meh), you just might have the intelligence to appreciate the bluth’s. it’s a nice dose of comical irony, without frustrating love triangles and a suffocating office-setting.
(i almost typed, “men who stopped maturing in the 7th grade” for things ‘arrested development’ does not have, but that would not be entirely true. in this case, he is not a regional manager, but a magician who does “illusions”– because “tricks are what a whore does for money”).
Filed under: and... judged., domestical, what's going on here | Tags: 7 for all mankind, balenciaga, bulletproof vest, chanel, chippewa, coles, denali, denim, face protector, grey's anatomy, handbag, housefly, huge, jeans, kevlar, liars, massive, pez dispenser, purse, satchel, satchel-tastic, shoulder bag, straight leg, sunglasses, the north face, third room, tonka trucks, tony walker & co., ugg boots, vera bradley, william sledd, women's jacket, youtube
this is a trend that i just don’t understand. i blame tony walker & co. it screams “undergraduate!” and it needs to end.
i look at girls that wear this day after day after day and you know what i see? i see a girl who is going to school purely because her daddy can write checks. i see a girl that is at coles every tuesday and downtown every thursday and saturday night. i see a girl that watches grey’s anatomy and uses “<3″s excessively.
so here it is, from head to toe:
huge sunglasses: just in case you’re not familiar, a very wise man once said, “the bigger the sunglasses, the uglier the girl”– and if it’s not sunny out, these are often worn on the crown of the head. ugh.
the north face denali jacket: this is ruining fashion. please refrain from wearing this 24 hours a day. use it as a jacket- not as a sweatshirt, bulletproof armor, or camouflage for when you don’t feel like sporting a brassiere.
straight leg denim: just a reminder: straight leg jeans are not meant for everybody (i.e. they are not a right. they are a priveledge). straight leg denim refresher course
ugg boots: i don’t even know where to start with these. hideous. matronly. bourgeois. grotesque. ugh. if you want to look like a pez dispenser, by all means, wear them. i mean, naturally, a woman would want her feet to look like two tonka trucks. i will never understand the appeal of these excuses for boots, no matter how warm they are.
carry-on luggage passing for a purse: to complete this abortion of an outfit, is the massive bag, no thanks to vera bradley’s quilted heinousness and these leather/faux leather atrocities. ugh. it’s a satchel-tastic nightmare.
Filed under: and... judged., domestical | Tags: 8 mile, amurrrica!, auto industry, blue collar, detroit, detroit what, dirty jobs, eminem, escort, industrial revolution, kristen, marshall mathers, monkey on a string, robot, ron gettelfinger, rosie the robot, spitzer, stalin, the jetsons, UAW, whine wednesdays, white collar
hi congress, it’s me pinzoner. please don’t help the auto industry. help them understand that they are to blame for their problems, not the recession.
1. they are members of unions, when in fact (!), unions are not necessary. the department of labor has established quite a lengthy list of what employers can and cannot do. simple as that. unless the injustices are similar to those witnessed during the industrial revolution or stalin’s 5 year plan, you all should act like real amurrricans and fight your own fight.
and ron gettelfinger– this is for you and the united auto workers: you’re an embarrassment to us all. if you want something the UAW can help you with, get your collar caught in a machine; however, i can’t promise the lawsuit that follows will get you more cash than your current annual income.
2. the biggest problem in the american auto industry is simple: these blue collar employees are getting paid white collar wages. that makes no sense. the assembly lines are not only doing jobs that a monkey on a string can do; they are inches from another worker who is doing the same job AND everybody is getting paid better than spitzer’s greased bagel, kristen. what. the. hell.
“the UAW, scrambling to preserve jobs and benefits, agreed at an emergency meeting in detroit to delay the companies’ payments to a multibillion-dollar, union-run health care trust and scale back a jobs bank in which laid-off workers are paid most of their wage. the concessions could help soothe some lawmakers who had criticized the union’s benefits as too rich when compared with those of workers at foreign-brand auto plants in the U.S..”
-MSNBC (12/3/2008)
now, i may be some ignorant white girl from the suburbs who doesn’t know the full depth of what’s going on in detroit (i only watched part of 8 mile on accident), but let’s call a spade a spade. the UAW is the only thing preventing these workers from being replaced by rosie the robot. they are overpaid and underqualified and overpopulated. they need to learn to cut off their nose to save their face.
oh, and congress. if you do decide to save the auto industry, i just want you to know that much like GM, i also need $12 billion to survive. later, (legi)slators!
Filed under: domestical | Tags: chick flick, cold-medicine based rant, influenza, kitchen, laci peterson, lifetime, movie, network, scott peterson
so, i’ve had the flu for the past 48 hours and there is one thing i’ve learned about daytime television: i don’t hate it. i mean, i never changed it from investigation discovery (that’s some sublime television right there), but when a deafening commercial would shake me out of my coma, i would stay awake long enough to watch a bit of the shows that interrupted the advertisements.
what i’ve learned is that no mother goes on a haphazard trip without informing her parents and friends where/why/for how long. no woman just spontaneously ups and leaves her children, no matter how terribly her marriage (or her doctor/lawyer/jewish husband) tanked.
so i’ve already given my parents and brothers a laundry list of things that should raise red flags, should i get married/knocked up and married.
1. my husband/life partner will never need to tell my parents that i have left the country. no matter how sudden the trip, if i know my cell phone will be out of range (at&t, i hate you. give me free stuff), i will find the time to tell my mom. if i don’t, she will assume that i was kidnapped and sold on the black market. let’s just say, it’s an ordeal.
2. if i am on a trip and have not used any of my credit cards, that definitely means i’m dead. i don’t like carrying large amounts of money on me and mastercard is accepted more places than yen. no brainer.
3. if my car is found, locked up, a few miles from my home, i’m dead. better yet, if it’s in one of the remote parking spots behind a colonial-style apartment complex, someone definitely put it there and they were not the pinzoner.
4. if my husband/life partner (picks out and) puts in new carpets/tile/wood floor while i am gone, that’s a problem. and if i am not dead, there will be a bloodbath.
there are a few other things i honestly can’t remember right now, but no matter how metal the murder or how depraved the motive, i don’t want to be responsible for a movie that empowers women (empower- to inspire women to replace their pepper spray with tae bo classes).
if i am sitting on my cloud, watching anyone sell the rights to my story to lifetime or women’s entertainment, there will be a firestorm. or i will just haunt the living hell out of them. either way, i’ll get revenge while testing out my cherub superpowers.
all of those movies are terrible and one-dimensional and brainless. i mean, there are guilty pleasures, but the majority of those films are rubbish. every leading female falls in love with the cop assigned to her case, every mistress has crows feet and lipstick on her teeth, every man is ambiguously homosexual (“sensitive”), and every woman is shown as a victim of her environment (her kitchen).
