Archive for September 3rd, 2008

Mouthwash

Jenny mentioned the other day that she was the last person on earth to see Lars and the Real Girl, but alas, that distinction belongs to me, as I didn’t see it until last night. It was adorable and very well done, and I’m so glad I saw it (Gosling!), but I have to admit the reason I’d been avoiding it is because of the whole RealDoll issue, which still grosses me out, and you know that whole documentary thing I talked about in January. Oy. The mere mention of a RealDoll (TM) sends me into a strange sense of ick, and wild Googling to figure out WHAT THE HELL people are doing with these things (hint: they aren’t as demure as Lars!) and WHY, like it’s a puzzle that demands a solution. It’s disgusting, yet compelling. This led me to the uh, Teddy Babes site, home of the vaginal insert known as the Pussy Velour.

I totally didn’t make that last bit up, I swear.

Anyway! In other People magazine news I’ve been meaning to discuss, there is a woman who is ball-ass terrified of BANANAS. I know this shouldn’t be funny, I mean, she’s genuinely skeeved by them, but the accompanying photo of her with her back to the banana aisle, all cock-eyed and suspicious-looking is just so funny. Bananas! She’s even afraid of people DRESSED as bananas, of which there are a surprising amount. It just opens up an entire can of fruit-based fears. Do you think there are people afraid of strawberries?

And now for a list of very random things which are entirely unrelated, but either thrill, confuse, or bother me immensely.

– I made The Pioneer Woman’s peach crisp again yesterday (the first time was with Lawyerish last summer), and I hate to say this, but I don’t think I have the same tastebuds that Ree has. I really like her, and her recipes always sound so DIVINE, but they never pan out as I hope they would. They’re always just a little too much — a little too much butter (yes, there is such a thing), a little too much meat, a little too much cheese, a little too much sugar. The peach crisp, for example, when made precisely to her proportions, leaves a startling crumb-to-peach ratio that’s a little too buttery-sweet for me (!!) and Jesus, let me tell you, it does NOT need that maple cream sauce, for it’s already plenty rich. I’ve taken to pouring milk over it to cut it a little.

– Shampoo and conditioner is sold in the wrong proportions, at least for my taste. I realize I have wicked short hair, but I use at least one and a half times the amount of shampoo as I do conditioner. Why so big, conditioner?

– Speaking of short hair, since Katie Holmes cut her hair in a pixie, there’s been a great deal of misinformation about the products needed for very short hair and how to style it (I’m looking at you again, People). I won’t bore you with the details, as there are very few of you to whom this applies, but GOD, just let me say that they advise far too many products and they’re always the wrong ones. I’m no Whoorl, but I know how to style a short haircut and what to ask for and my God, how to talk to your stylist about COLORING IT without disaster. And they are ALWAYS WRONG. ALL THE TIME. Because they’ve never had short hair. I could so be a successful short hair consultant. Ask me, Cosmo! People! Allure! I KNOW SHORT HAIR. STOP SPREADING LIES.

– My boobs are peeling. Like, in sheets, as though I’d baked them in the sun for too long, which I haven’t. (No topless beaches for this pregnant lady.) Apparently it’s a side effect of their rapid growth. which: OMG. I’d like to also note that thanks to my continued adversarial relationship with food that isn’t pie or apples (ick! food!), my weight gain has remained steadily at almost nothing, despite the appearance of these mysteriously large peely beings AND the fact that my midsection now looks as though I spend my free time belly up at the bar sucking down Guinness drafts. Oh, and nothing fits. So what the hell, body? Where is it coming from? Why aren’t my thighs skinnier then? How about my arms? I could totally do with some smaller arms.

(Note: I am not worrying about or watching my weight in the slightest. Au contraire. If I wasn’t hurling and hating food, you’d best believe I’d be kicking back and enjoying without guilt. But if it’s going to redistribute, I’d at least like a say in where it COMES FROM.)

And uh, with that, I hope y’all have a great Thursday! Full of non-peely chestal regions!

(P.S., thank you Joan Vennochi)

*Kate Nash. I use it because I’ve come up with an entire verse about my boobs, which is … well, ridiculous. “These. Are my Boobs. Peely and scary, they are swo-oh-oh-llen.” Am so going to be award-winning lyricist some day.

50 comments September 3rd, 2008


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