Apocalypse preparedness training: Lesson #1

Alright darlings.  What are you planning to eat once all the supermarkets have been looted; the veggies in your garden are radioactive and/or withered by unforgiving climate change; and you've gone through the more savory items in your pantry?

That's right.  Cat food. 

Given the populace's notorious inability to plan for emergencies, it is my dire prediction that it is likely to come down to cat food or starvation for a large number of us.  (Don't ask me what comes after cat food.  Probably the cat.)

So, in an effort to be diligent and at least formulate a half-assed plan for the worst, I am today recommending that you determine (and henceforth exclusively purchase) only the flavor of cat food you think you will be able to personally stomach once the apocalypse arrives.

You can thank me for this priceless recommendation later.  Possibly by joining my secret militia.

Men who are actually sexier once they open their mouths and begin to speak

President Barack Obama

Regardless of your political persuasion or personal approval rating, you must admit that our President's appeal increases dramatically when he speaks.  He's a triple-threat in the oration department: He knows what to say; exactly how to say it; and he has a nice voice to boot. 

Mr. President, sir? You had us at "yes we can," baby.

We patriotically nominate President Barack Obama as a "Man Who is Actually Sexier Once He Opens His Mouth and Begins to Speak."

Sleep talkin' man

OK, this is the most I've laughed all week.  You MUST visit this blog!  Thanks Knoxie!

sleeptalkinman.blogspot.com

Men who are actually sexier once they open their mouths and begin to speak

Henry Rollins

Beyond articulate, darling Henry is always interesting to read and listen to. He's that rare man who really wraps his brain around language and wrings unique, intense, incredibly accurate communication from words. His spoken word performances are genius-grade commentary and comedy. He makes you laugh. He makes you nod. He makes you hot.

Because he's not afraid to say "thank you for reading this."
Because he's not afraid to say "you are a dumb motherfu**er."

Our first nomination for the "men who are actually sexier once they open their mouths and begin to speak" award is the incomparable Henry Rollins.

Thanks, Heidi Montag!

I'd like to extend a big, utterly sincere "thank you" to Heidi Montag for making me feel AWESOME about my body. 

For those of you not addicted to celebrity gossip, Heidi (age 23) recently underwent 10 surgeries in a single day in her bold quest to become closer to Barbie/Dolly Parton.  The results?  She looks about the same, in my opinion.  Blonde, pretty, vapid... only her breasts have morphed from "ridiculously-large" to "anatomically-impossible-large."

Feminist impulses aside, this pitiable girl and her insecurity served as a personal reminder to suck it up and be OK with my post-baby, post-twenty, post-toned body.  Am I supermodel hot?  Nope.  (And never was.)  Do I entertain the laughable idea that plastic surgery will somehow improve my situation?  Nope.  (Well, occassionaly I daydream about a breast lift.)  Does being supermodel hot even remotely matter in the real world, where I whole-heartedly dwell?  Nope, thank God.

If a very young woman who started off looking fresh-faced and lovely (and blonde and vapid) can feel so bad about herself that she needs ANY plastic surgery at all... well, then the problem is clearly the distorted standard of beauty (and its disproportionate importance), emphatically NOT the girl's actual appearance.  Yeah, I'm about the 1,852nd person to state the obvious: the problem's in her head.

But if the problem's in her head, then chances are at least some of my body-image problems are in my head as well.

Now that I have fulfilled the biological mission to find a virile man and reproduce, it's (frankly) less important to look phenomenal.  The fact that I'm patient, funny, articulate and hard-working actually matter a whole lot more.  Being physically attractive - - shockingly - - has no impact whatsoever on these other desirable qualities. 

Of course I still care about my appearance.  I love myself and want to look as good as possible.  I love my husband and want him to feel lucky he married me.  I feel a huge pang of jealousy when I notice 'hot' mama's at the kiddie pool.  But, thanks to Heidi, I'm going to have an easier time keeping these rare pangs in perspective.

Shocking confession...

Hello, my name is Sara. I went bowling last weekend. And I liked it.

While I deplore reinforcing stereotypes of the Midwest, in this case I'll make an exception. I'll start by saying I have not bowled since the mandatory high school gym segment. I went on a lark, with a girlfriend, because we couldn't think of anything more intriguing to do.

Here are the honest reasons it was totally awesome:

- Not sure what to wear? Trust me, whatever you've got on right this minute (up to and including pajama bottoms with fluffy bunnies on them) is perfectly acceptable at the bowling alley. No need to do your hair and makeup either!

- You can't beat bowling shoes when you're aiming for a cute, retro look. Just add jeans with the cuffs rolled up and a cute t-shirt.

- They play the coolest music. We heard about 15 songs that we have not listened to since our teenage years, intermixed with a surprising number of Lady GaGa songs.

- You don't have to be any good to have fun.

- After 10 pm, they turn on the atomic glow-in-the-dark lights. Super rockin'.

- Let's face it: There are not that many sports in which you can participate fully WHILE drinking beer. And they don't carry your favorite $4 a bottle import, so you can cheerfully drink pitchers of the cheap swill and save money!

Does my newfound weekend activity add glamour to my image? Unfortunately, no. But I have a feeling if I can convince enough of my girlfriends to join me, it might just be the next cool thing. (In my teensy corner of the world anyway.)

Trowel it on!

True Match Roller.

Are we the only ones who find this hilarious? What were they thinking?! Aren't there enough bad jokes out there about "spackle?"

Would you buy this product?

Men who are actually sexier once they open their mouths and begin to speak

Eric Ripert

Talented and creative, Chef Eric is at his best when he's most natural. He's a reasonably attractive fellow in photographs, but he becomes infinitely more alluring in action. Television is absolutely his medium. His modesty and self-deprecation add to his considerable personal charm (even though they sometimes appear to be a socially-correct veneer).  His accent is most endearing when he occassionally struggles for the correct word.

Because we love talented men who are passionate about life, we nominate Eric Ripert as a Man Who is Actually Sexier Once He Opens His Mouth and Begins to Speak.

The beatniks of tomorrow?

Today in the Social Commentary Corner, we'd like to poke fun at people who work in coffee shops. No, not the barristas. We would never, ever do anything whatsoever to offend those caffeine-dispensing angels. We're talking about the worker bees clustered at the itty-bitty tables laden with laptops and lattes.

The sheer number of office refugees to be found in the middle of the day is striking. Who are these people?! We can't help but wonder.  Generations from now, coffee shop denizens will be as iconic of the early 2000's as beatniks were of the 50's. Actually, the aesthetic's not that different.

- Instead of deep poetry, we write iffy business plans, blogs, and freelance articles.
- Instead of the ultracool bongos, we tap at our keyboards.
- Instead of nifty berets, pretentious black ensembles, and "smarty" eye wear... oh wait... except for the beret, not too much has changed here...
- And replacing the cigarette as ultimate accessory? A coffee mug, of course.

Why do "Golden Boy" and "Golden Girl" mean totally different things?

It just doesn't seem quite fair that every workplace can have its "Golden Boy," while every retro rerun channel carries the "Golden Girls."

So, what do we call the boss's darling... the bright, shining example of virtuous employment... when she happens to be female? (And please don't say "mistress.")

And what do we call a bunch of wacky, elderly fellows who happen to room together at the assisted-living facility?

Speaking of the Golden Girls... which one are you, and why??