Brad Pitt's Never Going To Win That Oscar

Last Sunday, as I was watching the Oscars, I thought about something Peter had said about Brad Pitt few months ago.

Brad was going around all the talk shows talking up his new movie, especially since he had been nominated as Best Actor for the Oscars. However, he was wearing this strange little mustache.

"Oh, he's NEVER going to win that Oscar if he's going around with that Hitler mustache," Peter said.

"Maybe it's for a movie. Why else would a man groom that kind of mustache."

"Well, if he wants the Oscar, he needs to shave that off. He needs to tell the production company, 'Hey look. I can win an OSCAR. This may be my only shot at this and I am NOT jeopardizing this by going around talking to people about it in MY HITLER MUSTACHE.'"

As it turns out, he did not win the Oscar and I do believe it's all because of the mustache.

I haven't seen the Benjamin Button movie yet and my friend Andrew said, "You should, because they CGI him back into the Brad Pitt you fell in love with in A River Runs Through It."

Ungoogleable

Last night a bad movie, called Turks 182 was on late-night television. It starred Kim Catrall and Timothy Hutton and it was so terrible that Peter said, "No WONDER their careers went down the crapper!"

I mentioned that she's really lucky that she ended up with the role on Sex and the City instead of the woman they originally hired and immediately, Peter wanted to know who that woman was.

"She's not popular," I said. "You wouldn't know her."

"Yes I would," he replied.

Peter does have this uncanny ability to pick out any character actor anywhere. He'll say, "Oh, see that guy picking up the trash in this movie? He used to be a judge on Law & Order."

"No," I said. "She's very little known, so you wouldn't know her."

I tried to google it, but couldn't find her name. I was talking to my friend Andrew at the time, so all three of us were googling to find out who this mystery person was. Andrew's from San Francisco, so I had people working coast-to-coast on this.

Our search phrases:

"Originally cast as Samantha Jones"

"Sex and the City Samantha Jones Actress First"

"Samantha Jones First"

"First Samantha Jones Sex and the City"

Later on I mentioned that I found out about this woman when she was interviewed for "Sex and the City E! True Hollywood Story and Peter shouted, "Well, WHY didn't you say that from the begginning? THAT would have made a difference.

New search terms:

"Sex and the City Samantha Jones E! True Hollywood Story"

"Samantha Jones E! True Hollywood Story"

"E! True Hollywood Story Originally Cast As Samantha Jones"

Etc, etc, etc,


It seems that this did not make a difference. This person was not on the Wikipedia Sex and the City page. She is UNGOOGLEABLE! My theory is that the producers of Sex and the City disappeared her. I don't know how and I don't know where, but it was DONE.

I have thrown down the gauntlet of Googledom. I have found the one ungoogleable item EVER.

Does That Look Like A Sandwich To You?

The problem with going out to eat with eleven people on Valentine's Day in Chicago is that there are TOO MANY PEOPLE with TOO MANY IDEAS. Because (for some reason) several of us wanted to go somewhere within walking distance of the hotel, and almost every restaurant was jammed full of people, one person in the group decided to that we should all go to this diner on Michigan Avenue which was practically empty.

Okay, simply the fact that this place was empty when every other restaurant was packed full of people should have tipped us off, actually, it did tip ME, Urban and Jim off, but we were with a huge group of people and we had already tried to go to three other restaurants and gotten turned away. So we decided to just go with the flow.

HOWEVER, food is really important to each of us, so in hindsight, Jim said, "Me and Urban should have grabbed you and ran for a taxi out of there!"

It was the type of diner that had one million items. Which is another bad sign. I asked Urban what he was ordering, and he said you can't go wrong with a burger. So that's what we ordered. As it turns out, you CAN go wrong with a burger. It was terrible. Urban ordered a side of fried mushrooms, but the cook misunderstood and put mushrooms IN Urban's burger. The waitress corrected the mistake and Urban kept the mushrooms on this burger. After a few bites of the fried mushrooms, Urban told me to try some.

"Okay," I said. I took a piece of fried mushroom, dipped it in the barbecue sauce and right before I popped it in my mouth, I asked him, "Is it good?"

He shook his head sadly and softly said, "No."

Later on, I noticed that Jim's meal looked like a pile of white goo. I couldn't think for the life of me what that was, so I asked him, "What did you order?"

Jim very angrily and loudly said, "It's a SANDWICH! What did you THINK?" I mean, steam was coming out of his ears. You would have thought I had asked him if he was wearing panties.

I turned to Urban and very quietly asked him, "Does that LOOK like a sandwich to you?"

And Urban turned and said, "Uhm...no..."

Later Jim apologized. He explained that he had told the waitress he wanted gravy ON THE SIDE and she must have assumed he wanted the gravy ON ALL SIDES of his plate. Which was why that SANDWICH looked like a PILE OF WHITE GOO. Later that night I took Jim to South Loop Club for a gyro and he felt tons better. And when we were talking about the diner, I said, "I felt that it was just a waste of twenty dollars."

Urban said, "It was more like wasting a chance for something good to eat, which is WAY more important than just twenty dollars."

Totally agreed.

AHHHHH! I HAD A GREAT VALENTINE!!!!!

During the REAL Valentine's Day, I was in Chicago and the one time I called Peter on Valentine's Day, I spent the whole time moaning and whining about people I thought didn't like me. And Peter was all, "I haven't heard from you in almost two days and the SECOND you get me on the phone you just want to whine to me? Who cares if people don't like you? You're being such a BABY!"

I gathered myself, but in my head, I was thinking, "But I was saving all this jumbled mess of my collected insecurities FOR YOU!"

The fact is, husbands are there to assure us that, no, we are not being crazy when we think people are being mean to us and no, we are in fact, extremely lovely and lovable and wonderful.

That's okay, because I got that from Jim a little later that evening, during which time he said, "Your husband called you a baby? My girlfriend would NEVER speak to me again if I said that."

My reply was (in Peter's defense), "Well, I actually am a baby a lot."

Anyway, during that Valentine's Day conversation, Peter said, "You know, I was going to spend a ton of money to get a plane ticket and surprise you in Chicago, but I'm glad I didn't!"

Later, he explained that he thought about whether I would rather see him on Valentine's Day in Chicago or get a really expensive present and he decided that I would rather get the expensive present. I had a suspicion of what it was when he picked me up in the Honda Element to go pick up the present... because it was THIS!



I have the BEST HUSBAND EVER!

I Was In Shit-cago And I Didn't Hate It

I went to the AWP conference in Chicago and although I don't enjoy Chicago in the wintertime, I didn't have the worst time. That's about the best thing I can say about Chicago.

It's a city that always "Blizzards on my ass." A phrase I came up with the last time I was in Chicago during the winter. We were having a leisurely lunch at Greektown when all-of-a-sudden I looked up and I couldn't see across the street because of the white blur of snow that appeared out of nowhere.

The thing about going to a city for a conference is that it doesn't really matter what city the conference is at because you only hang out in one building for the most part. And the bar at that building. The very expensive bar that charges $12 for a mixed drink. $12 DOLLARS!! Suffice it to say, I NURSED that vodka tonic as long as I could. So long that all the ice melted.

Another thing about the conference is that I regressed back to high school. There was a girl there who is a bit standoffish at times and I felt myself having my feelings hurt because she seemed to be actively shutting me out of conversations and I don't think it was my imagination that her friends seemed to really not want to talk to me.

When I mentioned this to my friend Jim, he said, "I don't think she likes me either. I think it's because she's jealous we look so young and SHE looks OLD!"

I don't think that there's anything that can cut a woman in her thirties to the quick faster than telling her that she looks OLD.

Anyway, this really touched me and made me feel really gooey inside.

Speaking of Poop...

The cat pooped on her scratching pad today.

We have been experimenting with putting less and less litter on the toilet litter kwitter pan so that she can get used to going in the toilet with no litter. Apparently, this is just fine for tinkling, but when it comes to taking a dump, she NEEDS those tiny beads of litter to go poop, I guess the same way my father needed the morning paper.

The way her little kitty noggin worked today is that she scratched up a bunch of cardboard bits from her scratching pad and formed a mound of bits. She then pooped on her scratching pad and covered up the poop with the cardboard bits. ARGGG!

This is VERY disheartening.

This is the second time she's done her business on the scratch pad. So now, another $7.99 down the drain.

She had been pooping in the bathtub about once a week, which was fine because you can pick it up relatively easily and we're trying to get her used to pooping in the toilet, which she HATES. Now I'm a bit worried because she had now taken the pooping outside of the bathroom for the first time since she peed on her last scratching pad a few months ago.

I just don't want her looking around the house trying to find another elimination station. So every time we see her eyeing something, we scream, "Snap out of it!"

And then she jumps in terror and runs hiding under the sofa.

Love, Thy Name is Labrador

Of all of our pets, Scout is the best one. I don't know if it's just a first-child parental thing. I know you're supposed to love all your children the same way, but there's nothing like that first one, the one that changes your life forever. I don't have children, but I am a first child and first children always think that deep down, they are, if not the favorite child, the most memorable one. And the first child will be the only one who will remember their parents when they were a little more youthful.

I am the only child who can even fathom running through the sprinklers with my parents. The one who accompanied them on our first trip to Disney World. We were like three children and I still remember my mother squealing throughout the Dumbo ride.

I know that my birth transformed my mother from a non-cooking, cockroach-fearing, non-opinionated girl into the awe-inspiring magician of food, killer of insects, and the person who is not ever afraid of ever saying, "That outfit makes you look like a middle-aged woman."

I didn't have the heart to tell her that, at age 35, "I AM a middle-aged woman! Which makes YOU an ol'lady!"

Scout is the sweetest dog and it breaks my heart that she's getting older by the minute. I can already see that she's losing some of her muscle mass. Her ribs poke out of her sides more than they used to and she doesn't come as fast when you call her.

I used to be able to whip a bite up apple up in the air and it didn't matter how far I flung it, she would pounce and grab it out of the air. Nowadays, it might bounce off her nose...or worse yet, drop to the floor.

The way she interacts with the cat is so cute. When we first brought her home, Scout just looked at it and looked at us as if to say, "What have you guys done NOW (sigh). What IS that thing?" Gone was the abject terror of the day we brought home Rocky. On THAT day, she looked as if we were seconds away from throwing her out on the street and saying, "So long, girl. We've got a new dog now. We won't be needing your services any longer."

Scout and the cat will sleep near each other, on their own beds. In the mornings, the cat will rub up against Scout, although Scout is a little bit cautious, lest those sharp claws come out. Scout has weathered the storm of our four moves, countless road trips across the country, and bringing in newer members of the family. I don't think that anything we ever do will ever freak her out anymore. And for some reason, that makes me sad.

I think that she will be the dog we'll talk about forever, especially that night she pooped on the corner of our bedroom floor when she was only a few weeks old. She was a terrible puppy to toilet-train, which got her into a lot of trouble. That night, I woke up to the most horrendous smell in the world, a smell so foul it wasn't earthly. It smelled like a present from the land of Hades.

When I got up to go clean it up, I saw that Scout had placed two socks on top of the poop.

That's right. She made her poop, looked at it and thought, "Uhm. I better cover this up before they find out about this."

After she placed one of my socks on the poop, she stepped back and said to herself, "This won't do. I think I need to cover up THAT little bit right there." Then she went and got the other sock.

And you know what kills me about that incident? She used TWO DIFFERENT socks from TWO DIFFERENT pairs.

Cleanliness Is Next To...

We have a friend who comes over our house and never washes his hands. He goes into the bathroom, does his business, and we never hear the faucet turn on. I brought this up to Peter last night and he said:

"Oh. He doesn't wash his hands on purpose. He knows we think it's important. I believe he's making a point by doing that."

Of course, what goes on in my mind is, "@#&%!" You know, like in the old comics when a character does something so out there that there are just no proper words to express this.

"But...but...but," I said. "He's only hurting himself! And getting E.coli. all over the potato chips!"

I know that I'm a little over-the-top in my hygiene. I am always washing my hands. This traces back to when my sister Judy was born and I was eight years old. I was told to wash my hands and face THE MOMENT I got home so as to not get any germs on the oh-so-delicate baby.

Now it's just a habit. I come home and wash my hands and my face. I believe this makes the world a better place.

I find it completely crazy when other people refuse to practice good hygiene. I know men are gross, but I never thought that a friend of ours would PURPOSEFULLY not wash his hands in my house. Of course this makes me want to invite people over less. And that's the slippery slope down the slide of becoming a Crazy Cat Lady Hermit.

Crawling On The Floor

Tonight we had two of Peter's friends over for the Superbowl, mainly because we have an HDTV. Peter likes sports, but when his team is in a tight spot, I have never seen him crawl on the floor on his hands and knees while groaning and keening like his friend Vinny, who wins the title hands down for most CRAZY STEELERS FAN. We will save that for when the kitten decides that she's had enough of this toilet-training nonsense and poops on our bed.

Thankfully, the Steelers won, although I have to admit that a part of me wanted to see Vinny flip out. I mean, if he's screaming and going nuts when the Steelers are several points behind, what would he be like when all hopes are dashed? Luckily, we live on the first floor in case he flung himself out the window. I would just hope that he doesn't break any of our stuff on the way out.

This reminds me of one of Peter and my first dates. He told me that he wasn't much of a sports fan and he hardly watches games. Which I learned later was completely untrue. He does enjoy watching sports and if we're at a restaurant and there's a game playing behind my head, if I took off all my clothes, it wouldn't even register with him. Therefore, you should date a man for more than several weeks before marrying him because what he thinks is true is different from what is the truth.

I tried to think of something I would feel so strongly about, but I have to say that I acted with much more decorum when George W. Bush won the presidential race against Kerry, and THAT determined the leader of our nation. Perhaps they haven't found that thing yet, the "Ice Skating While Fire-Breathing With the Stars" reality program which will inspire such passion in my heart. In that case, I would so be "Team Nia Peeples."

Can't Get Rid of Stuff

I have been going through a tumult of cleaning the past few days. This is all coming about because I have gotten sick and tired of looking at my messy apartment and getting into arguments with Peter on why I cannot clean the floors before I clean the dogs and if I clean the dogs, I will have to clean the dog beds. If I clean the dog beds, I will have to clean out the laundry machine, which means that I cannot clean our clothes before I disinfect the laundry machine. I cannot clean the floors before I clean out all my papers. I cannot clean up my papers before I get a desk so I can keep my crap in it. I cannot clean the clothes before we get a new dresser because Peter gave away my dresser to the painter dude who sprayed blue paint all over my bathroom because he must have been too lazy to put drop cloths down.

But DESPITE all these things, I decided that I should start to clean the clothes and the bathroom and spruce up the kitchen and living room anyway. And it looks a LOT better than it did two days ago, so that's good.

The thing is, I am a huge procrastinator, mostly because I want am super lazy, but also because I want things to be done right, which makes each small task a huge undertaking. But my New Year's Resolution is to not let Peter live like a slob. Because if there's only one life to live, I don't want us to live like that dirty kid that was Charlie Brown's friend.

Inspired by my whirlwind of cleaning, Peter decided to get rid of some of his old computers. I don't know why he's kept them so long. But last night, he asked me to look up when we could dump old computers in Mamaroneck. So I pull up the Town of Mamaroneck's website and discovered that they will only accept computers on two days per year. One day in April and another day in October. Which means that if you are on a cleaning spree in January, you have no choice but to dump it somewhere you're probably not supposed to (which we would NEVER do, of course).

Sometimes I don't get this town. Why are we paying these huge taxes?

Superman Just Doesn't Make Sense

Tonight we saw the tail end of Superman Returns. What I didn't like about it was that every seemed too mamsy-pamsy to be those characters. Lois Lane was so meh...And Superman was not Super enough. Kevin Spacey didn't have any charm.

"You know what I didn't like about Superman?" Peter asked. "I didn't like the fact that there isn't any explanation to the phenomena."

"Do you mean stuff like, if Superman's hair is so strong, how does he get his hair cut?"

"Maybe his hair doesn't grow? There's no explanation."

"So he's destined to only have one hair style? And also, remember that movie where Lois Lane dies and he turned back time? If he can turn back time, why doesn't he just do that all the time?"

"Well, that would require too much energy."

Late-Night Conversation

Me: Don't you hate it when you get to a dark room and flick your hand up to turn on the light switch---

Peter: And you miss it? Yeah, it feels really weird.

Me: And then you lose your balance because you flicked too hard?

Peter: No... That's never happened.

Pleasant Techno Music?

While we were in Orlando this year, I browsed through Tripadvisor.com to look for restaurant reviews and it always makes me laugh. For instance, we went to a restaurant called Sweet Tomatoes, which was really delicious for a buffet that costs merely $8.19.

But when I logged on to tripadvisor, I saw several posts which advised people that there were MUCH CHEAPER deals in Orlando. My reaction was, "Cheaper than $8.19 for a huge salad bar, all-you-can-eat soups (delicious soups at that), freshly baked breads and pasta (including a whole wheat penne dish)? What do you people want for $8?"

But the funniest post was this one, especially because it starts out with: "My wife, daughter and I began our experience by having a glass of wine at the bar while listening to pleasant Techno music."

Rachel Getting Married=Vomit

A few weeks ago I took my mother to see Rachel Getting Married. The performances were good, although a bit over-the-top, but ultimately it was pretty boring. At one point, everyone sits in the kitchen watching a dishwasher-loading contest. I turned to my mother and said, "Is this interesting cinema? I can load my own dishwasher at home."

But the biggest problem in the movie is the way indie film makers want to capture a film with all its "real world" jiggling a la "Blair Witch." The purpose, I suppose, is to make things appear more like documentary off-the-cuff film making. However, the real effect is my poor mother leaving the theater and saying:

"I feel like THROWING UP!"

Happy Inauguration Day!

Wishing everybody a Happy Inauguration Day!

It's the day we all tell President Bust --oops--typing slip-- President Bush, "GET OUT!"

I believe that Bush was a terrible president, but let's overlook the non-intelligence and the bad decisions and falling asleep during Hurricane Katrina and the torturing, etc. etc. etc. A lot of very unlucky things happened during the first term of the Bush presidency.

The Chinese believe firmly in the reality of luck. Belief in luck and superstition is more powerful than any religion or blood relations. My grandmother was given away at birth because a fortune teller told my great-grandmother that a girl born in the year of the tiger was bad luck. Luckily, she was adopted into a wonderful and wealthy childless family. So, I guess as it turned out, being a tiger girl was good luck. For my grandmother.

The fundamental difference between Americans and the Chinese, is that the Chinese people would NEVER have re-elected a president as unlucky as this one. You know the saying, "You don't have to be good if you're lucky?"

Obama seems to be pretty lucky so far, so it's a great sign.

Not My Friend

Today, I was talking to my sister and she started a story with:

"Something happened to my friend... actually, she's not my friend because I hate her.

JCPenney Has Tricksy Mattresses

When I bought my mattress, I made a point to go to JCPenney to buy one of those "Natural" mattresses made of organic materials. Peter and I got into HUGE fights that day because when we went to the JCPenney in Nyack, that particular store didn't carry mattresses. However, Peter did purchase two pairs of Lee Jeans for a steal.

We traveled to a part of New Jersey no one with all their teeth venture to purchase this particular mattress. I felt the aggravation was worth it, since I wanted us to fall asleep in luxurious organicness every night for the next ten years.

So I was VERY UPSET to learn in this NY Times article that the mattress I bought, in the Natural Care line by Danny Seo is not so organic.

JCPenney sucks and they are lying liars! I am NEVER buying non-organic organic items from them EVER AGAIN!

Relying On My Personality

The other day, I was looking in the mirror and I thought that I really should start wearing makeup. The thing with me and makeup is that I had a friend in high school who used to take two hours a day to get ready for school and a large portion of that time was applying makeup.

I told my friend Amanda about this and she was horrified. "You mean," Amanda said. "She looks at herself in the mirror for two hours every day?!"

It seemed like the height of vanity and I had a bad attitude about this. Especially since most of the girls I knew who were consumed with fashion and makeup seemed to have very little else to offer. Plus, the whole thing with makeup, I find, is that it's all about the re-applying. Makeup WEARS OFF, practically from the first moment you put it on. So the whole rest of the day is spent obsessively looking into mirrors to make sure that pieces of my face didn't rub off.

I realized the other day that I am the opposite of the girl who relied on her looks and never worked on her personality. When I had just graduated college, I had my wisdom teeth pulled and I went to work anyway with a swollen face and wearing an ugly white sweatshirt with orange cuffs and collar. I remember pulling on that ugly sweatshirt and thinking that I wanted to look as bad as I felt.

That day, a new guy came to work. A really cute new guy. We all hung out after work together and when things were winding down, the guy asked me out. I was stunned. You mean, I can look like a slob and cute guys will still like me? Wow. Only in New York! (By the way--this would NEVER happen in Westchester. They like their girls made up, with long colored nails and wearing tight mafia-wife type sweatpants.) (And yes, whenever I mention New York, I am not talking about the state, but THE CITY.)

When this happened, it was just positive reinforcement for bad behavior, because I hardly ever took pains with my appearance again. I mean, I brush my hair occasionally and wash my clothes, but I have twisted open a mascara wand less times in the past ten years than I have fingers and toes.

It doesn't help that EVERY MAN I've ever dated has not cared (or noticed) whenever I put on makeup. In actuality, the only people who care seem to be other women. At my wedding, my mother-in-law turned to me and said, "You're so BEAUTIFUL when you FIX YOUR FACE!" I took that as a compliment.

It's only recently that I've thought perhaps I should put a more presentable face to the world. It's probably my age. Although it's kind of funny to still get mistaken for a teenager, perhaps it's not such a good thing. I should look my age and do all the things my mother wished I would do--like fix my hair and not look slovenly. Oh! And lose that last bit of weight. So I went shopping with my sister today for grown-up clothes and I bought a suit. The thing is, that I'm between sizes, so a size 12 was a little too big, but a size 10 was too tight to be comfortable. At one point, I looked at my sister and said, "Honestly, which one looks better? Because I can't figure it out. A little too big? Or a little too tight?"

"Uhm. Well, I think the best thing to do is for you to lose five pounds so you can look really good in a size 10."

Ouch.

What Our Parrot Would Say

Today Peter and I just sat around the house and thought up words and phrases our parrot would say...if we were to have a parrot. Yes, this is what happens when you've been together for eleven years. If you are LUCKY.

If we ever had a parrot, we would name him Caribou and he would say:

Oh SNAP!

Ack! (what we tell the dogs when they're doing something wrong)

Good Kitty!

Where are my KEYS!

PETER!

Good Meow Meow!

What a douche bag!

It's a MESS in here!

Sit!

Where's the DS?

Don't drain all the batteries from MY DS!

Get your OWN DS!

Are you pooping in there?

We All Have to Deal With It

The little kitty is (so far) pretty successful with the litter-kwitter toilet training. However, she has been pooping a lot less. She used to poop every day and now she will keep it in for three days straight. My sister asked me why and I said, "Well, my theory, and it's only a theory, is that she hates it when the poop splashes the water up her butt. I haven't figured out a good way to fix that yet."

"So what? She needs to learn how to DEAL WITH IT. I mean, WE ALL do."