tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-85279172024-03-13T00:00:41.049-05:00Daily PointersTinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16926145406502335217noreply@blogger.comBlogger175125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8527917.post-3849845901831190662010-11-29T23:38:00.001-06:002010-11-29T23:38:46.120-06:00n shiny black pants and pointy shoes, what's not to like?' The cop kept on giv<table cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" border="0" ><tr><td valign="top" style="font: inherit;">http://yvonnieerixon.ru.gg/agPdrueteex.htm </td></tr></table><br> Tinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16926145406502335217noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8527917.post-62705638544162764392009-11-12T14:20:00.001-06:002009-11-12T14:20:24.032-06:00New Moon hysteria...<div style="font-family:times new roman, new york, times, serif;font-size:12pt"><DIV></DIV> <DIV>God I hope it's called New Moon. I've referred to the second Twilight movie as New Moon for like a week now. Wouldn't I be the idiot if it was called Twilight 2 or something? </DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV>So I saw a New Moon display at Nordies the other day. They had cardboard cutouts of the wolf and the vampire (Jacob and Edward for those in the know) that you could buy. There were stacks and stacks of them lying around. And then there was the New Moon jewelry station. A whole table devoted strictly to all things Twilight. Fingering through all the "I heart Edward" dogchains, I was tempted to purchase one and wear it everyday to work. You know, for giggles and all. Not at all because I heart Edward or anything. But they were $24 dollars each! And that was the cheapest thing at the "vampires suck (me)!" table. It was shockingly appalling. Luckily they're having a free New Moon party this weekend to make up for it. Thank you Nordies. I have no idea what I'd do without you for my appropriate Twilight fan mania. </DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV>Oh and the regrettable part of the shopping experience? There was a tween girl pouring over the jewelry and giving everyone rehashes of the Twilight stories. I had to ask her the wolf's name (Jacob) a couple of times, because my short term memory is shit but to everyone else her information was unsolicited. Poor them. <BR> </DIV></div><br> Tinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16926145406502335217noreply@blogger.com29tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8527917.post-32357629076029935092009-11-02T15:50:00.003-06:002009-11-02T16:27:49.477-06:00Turns out G was right...G is always telling me not to shoot the finger to people while driving. He's always saying one day I'll get more than I bargained for. As an irate driver himself, it turns out he knows of what he speaks.<br /><br />Two things one should immediately know about me: I'm too stupid to walk away from an aggressive situation and I'm a total wuss. I guess this translates to me having brass balls but punching like a person who doesn't know how to punch (I refuse to say "like a girl"). I'm kind of like my grandfather's rat terrier (rip to both), Bo, as in Bo Diddly, who didn't realize he was a tiny dog. And to be fair, he was triple the size of all his rat terrier brothers, so he came by his complex honestly. Bo was a big barker and growler and all around penis shower. All fine and dandy until he tried to scare away a possum in the yard and the possum wasn't having it. (Aside: this was also the day I realized those damn animals have lots and lots of teeth and thus developed a fear of them.) After much hissing and showing of teeth (by the possum), the dog lost his shit. For those of us watching, it was almost the funniest thing since the bulldog chasing incident of 1999. (That's another story altogether but the visual is Bo trying to jump inside the house, which wouldn't be that hard except he's too afraid to slow down enough to actually make the turn because a bulldog is hot on his heels. They proceed in laps around the house until one of us stops laughing long enough to take pity on him.) Anyway. I was Bo yesterday. And Jackass was the possum.<br /><br />Short version: Jackass drove badly. I shot the finger. He banged on my car.<br /><br />Long version: Jackass was driving an old bronco or jeep type of thing (no windows or ceiling) with a long flat bed trailer thing hoooked up. So his bad driving was especially bad driving given his load. I honked my horn at Jackass once he tried to get in my lane and smash my car. It was a bit of a long honk, because hello? The Jackass was trying to run me over. He turns around in his non-car and starts screaming and yelling at me for daring to honk at him. (At this point I probably should have realized I was dealing with a wild animal and it was best not to provoke but refer to the above paragraph and the thing about being stupid.) I waved my hands at him to shut up and move on into my lane if he needed to. See? Nice? He kept yelling while he was attempting to maneuvre lanes, even after I'd told him he could squeeze in in front of me, so I gave him the finger. (FYI, this is the action G is always telling me not to take. I have a prolific finger and use it at will.) Biiiig mistake. Jackass starts to get out of his car. Oops. My bad!<br /><br />So I dart off in the next lane and go through the light we were waiting at (it was green). I just assumed that was the end of it and was waiting at the next light on the next block, mentally compiling my list for the grocery store. I looked in my rear view mirror and guess who was back? Jackass was pulling his trailer load and driving all over the street in an attempt to get in the lane next to mine. Jackass was driving even crazier than before. Imagine that! He pulls up next to me and definitely gets out of his car this time. He starts pounding on my car window yelling profanities, saying "watch where you put that finger," and spouting various other lovelies.<br /><br />Still being a smart ass, I picked up my cell phone and showed it to him. Then I mouthed "9-1-1" as I started to push the buttons to show him I was going to call the cops on the crazy person acting a fool at 38th and Lamar. Of course he jumped right back into his jeep thing. That being that, I closed my phone, having had no intention of actually calling 911. I guess he realized I was fucking with him, because he seemed to get even angrier. Now I, personally, have never been called a whore. At least not to my face. But yesterday I was called a whore so much, I actually looked down at my sweater and jeans to verify that no boobs were sticking out or anything, just in case he thought I actually was advertising my body for money. It was just as I'd expected and everything was in place. I guess he wasn't being very accurate with his name calling and was just falling on whatever horrid female insult he could hurl at me.<br /><br />I thought about giving him the finger a second time, especially when he was loudly lecturing me on my use of hand gestures (in the form of profanity filled screams), but by then my instincts told me to not aggravate the obvious crazy person. Too bad those instincts didn't kick in earlier. But by then the light turned green and he screeched off down the road into crappy car oblivion while I went on to the grocery store to buy my week's worth of lettuce and feta cheese.<br /><br />If you guys ever come across a jackass in a white jeep/bronco with a TX license plate P48-KJM, tell him I said hi. And give him the finger, from me. Oh and did I mention the load in his trailer was a pink pedi-cab (those bicycle driven cab things)? I think the cosmic joke is on him.Tinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16926145406502335217noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8527917.post-84574245889934151682009-10-30T14:32:00.003-05:002009-10-30T14:36:40.358-05:00Nightmare on My Street - Who Knew?What to my wondering ears should appear but one Fresh Prince and 8 midi drum riffs? I wonder whatever happened to DJ Jazzy Jeff? And the youtube below is the best. It's some kind of crazy Freddy tribute set to Fresh Prince's Nightmare on My Street. Think about that for a second. A tribute video. To Freddy. Set to a Fresh Prince song. Called Nightmare on My Street. The sheer amount of ridiculousness involved in this piece of genius is what Halloween is all about. And candy.<br /><br />Enjoy!<br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/kxlXChuX0AI&hl=en&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/kxlXChuX0AI&hl=en&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>Tinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16926145406502335217noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8527917.post-61636313866972422009-10-27T16:58:00.002-05:002009-10-27T17:03:57.816-05:00I've been in a girl fight...with myself. I awoke Monday morning to find a huge fingernail scratch down the right side of my face. I vaguely remember something itching in that same area overnight and waking up periodically throughout the night with some horrid, stinging pain. But it wasn't until I looked in the mirror that everything came flooding back. So now I'm in constant pain (not severe but aggravating nonetheless as it's in my smile zone), and people keep asking me who I pissed off, what with the claw marks down my pretty, pretty face.<br /><br />I keep looking at my fingernails trying to find the culprit. They all feel so soft and smooth though. It's hard to get mad at recently manicured nails, ya know?Tinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16926145406502335217noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8527917.post-29304524451147352952009-10-16T14:54:00.001-05:002009-10-16T14:54:18.402-05:00Am still in shock...<div style="font-family:times new roman, new york, times, serif;font-size:12pt"><DIV></DIV> <DIV>I cooked chicken sausages last night. For the first time EVER I cooked them on the stove and the smoke detector did not go off. And not because I took the batteries out like that one time but because I actually cooked them in a nice, normal way. You know, without the burning and such. I am a culinary genius. Bow before my kitchen glory.<BR> </DIV></div><br> Tinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16926145406502335217noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8527917.post-12454668062829470002009-10-07T20:02:00.002-05:002009-10-07T20:20:07.333-05:00And then there were... more...Harrison Ford. I fucking hated that stupid Indiana Jones movie that just came out anyway. If not for Shia, I would have left you and your idiotic crystal skulls to rot in Naziland (or wherever they were).<br /><br />And the most devastating - Emma Thompson. I can't imagine someone who makes Jane Austen look so, so good could possibly sign something like this. I'm holding out hope a) it's an impostor and/or b) she's just stupid, not heartless.<br /><br />Sam Mendes. I managed to miss his name originally. I might be stuck watching inane big-budget flicks if all my indie directors keep signing...<br /><br />People suck. I'm still completely appalled that Natalie Portman would throw paint on my fur but wouldn't give a rat's ass if I decided to rape her little brother and/or son (if she had either). Nice, Nat, nice.Tinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16926145406502335217noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8527917.post-58250452507497345812009-10-01T09:32:00.002-05:002009-10-01T09:37:42.626-05:00More names...Harrison Ford<br />Jeremy Irons<br />Natalie Portman (I've always disliked all her stupid opinions and editorials. Save your efforts and go save Israel with your animal friendly shoes, why don't you, Natalie?) - no offense meant to Israel or animal friendly shoes -<br />Kristin Scott Thomas<br />Penelope Cruz<br />Ethan Coen<br />Guillermo del Toro<br />Buck Henry<br />Brett Ratner<br />Bernardo Bertolucci<br />Gael Garcia Bernal<br />Mike NicholsTinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16926145406502335217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8527917.post-11875476597194996082009-09-30T10:11:00.002-05:002009-09-30T11:18:06.173-05:00I am at a loss...Roman Polanski is a rapist. There is no discussion about it. The facts are not disputed. He gave a quaalude (or a "sliver" of one - whatever) with some champagne and then raped a 13 year-old girl orally, vaginally, and anally (that word seems wrong somehow). And let's be specific about her participation in the whole thing, if one can really say a 13 year-old has the wherewithall to participate in anything sexually, especially with a 43 year-old man. She told him to <a href="http://www.thesmokinggun.com/archive/polanskicover1.html">"keep away"</a> from her and told police she didn't resist more because she was "afraid of him."<br /><br />Regardless of whether she resisted or not, she was 13. A 13 year-old girl (kid) CANNOT consent to sexual activity with a man, 30 years her senior. Especially when she's drugged.<br /><br />So why, then, are celebrities and/or artists (if that's what they really are) calling for the release of Polanski? They are going so far as to sign petitions asking for his release calling his arrest a "travesty," saying he's an artistic genius, etc., etc., etc. Of course there are issues involving any kind of extradition but to excuse his behavior because a) it was merely sex with a minor (no such thing - that's called rape)* or b) Polanski is a genius and therefore doesn't deserve to be locked up with all the common, gutter trash is absolutely fucking insane.<br /><br />*I do believe there is a difference between this situation and a senior in high school having sex with his under 18 high school girlfriend.<br /><br />If those assholes want to sign petitions eschewing their allegiance to a rapist, artistic or French as he may be, I will help them along. I'm posting their names and boycotting their products and/or work. It'll hurt but these fools deserve it. And I'll add any name I find along the way who supports Roman Polanski being released from prison.<br /><br />Here are the ones I know of right now (I'm listing in order of my own personal importance w/r/t boycotting - the ones that'll hurt the most and then alphabetical after that):<br /><br />David Lynch (this hurts my heart)<br />Wes Anderson (really? I always thought you were a freak but in a good way. Guess I was wrong.)<br />Martin Scorsese (give me a fucking break)<br />Diane von Furstenburg (ouch. good thing I can't afford her dresses anyway)<br />Michael Mann (guess I can't see anymore of your stupid movies with G now)<br />Jonathan Demme (like his work - Rachel Getting Married, Philadelphia, Silence of the Lambs, etc. Oh well.)<br />Harvey Weinstein (what has Polanski or child rape ever done for you that you owe them so?)<br />Tilda Swinton (um... you're living in a group marriage thing so I can understand you wanting to stand up for non-traditional relationships but this is not one of those)<br />Woody Allen (big surprise - pot, meet kettle)<br />Salman Rushdie (as if boycotting this douche will really hurt)<br /><br />Isabelle Adjani<br />Pedro Almodovar<br />Paul Auster<br />Pedro Almodovar<br />Asia Argento<br />Jean-Jacques Annaud<br />Darren Aronofsky<br />Fanny Ardant<br />Asia Argento<br />Olivier Assayas<br />Gabriel Auer<br />Christophe Barratier<br />Gilles Behat<br />Marco Bellochio<br />Monica Bellucci<br />Jean-Jacques Beineix<br />Yamina Benguigui<br />Patrick Bouchitey<br />Jacques Bral<br />Pascal Bruckner<br />André Buytaers<br />Christian Carion<br />Henning Carlsen<br />Jean-Michel Carre<br />Patrice Chéreau<br />Elie Chouraqui<br />Souleymane Cissé<br />Alain Corneau<br />Jérôme Cornuau<br />Miguel Courtois<br />Alfonso Cuaron<br />Alexandre Desplat<br />Arielle Dombasle<br />Georges Dybman<br />Betrand van Effenterre<br />Jacques Fansten<br />Michel Ferry<br />Stephen Frears<br />Thierry Frémaux<br />Sam Gabarski<br />Tony Gatlif<br />Costa Gavras<br />Jean-Marc Ghanassia<br />Christian Gion<br />David Heyman<br />Laurent Heynemann<br />Isabelle Huppert<br />Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu<br />Gilles Jacob<br />Just Jaeckin<br />Pierre Jolivet<br />Neil Jordan<br />Nelly Kaplan<br />Wong Kar Waï<br />Jan Kounen<br />Harmony Korinne<br />Milan Kundera<br />Emir Kusturica<br />John Landis<br />Claude Lanzmann<br />Patrice Leconte<br />Bernard-Henri Levy<br />François Margolin<br />Mario Martone<br />Radu Mihaileanu<br />Jeanne Moreau<br />Claude Lanzmann<br />André Larquié<br />Claude Lelouche<br />Claude Miller<br />Mike Nichols<br />Michel Ocelot<br />Alexander Payne<br />Michele Placido<br />Jean-Paul Rappeneau<br />Yasmina Reza<br />Laurence Roulet<br />Walter Salles<br />Jean-Paul Salomé<br />Marc Sandberg<br />Julian Schnabel<br />Barbet Schroeder<br />Ettore Scola<br />William Shawcross<br />Abderrahmane Sissako<br />Paolo Sorrentino<br />Radovan Tadic<br />Danis Tanovic<br />Bertrand Tavernier<br />Cécile Telerman<br />Alain Terzian<br />Pascal Thomas<br />Daniele Thompson<br />Giuseppe Tornatore<br />Serge Toubiana<br />Nadine Trintignant<br />Tom Tykwer<br />Wim WendersTinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16926145406502335217noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8527917.post-36318315217606070802009-09-28T12:56:00.001-05:002009-09-28T12:56:53.992-05:00Go buy the Girls' Album....<div style="font-family:times new roman, new york, times, serif;font-size:12pt"><DIV></DIV> <DIV>No really. The Girls are a boy group and their album is titled Album. Go buy it now! I listened to it this morning and I'm officially completely sad and in love with the lead singer. My favorite lyrics are from Hellhole Race, which I'd quote from but I can't find them online, but my favorite sounding song is from Ghostmouth. Christopher Owens (singer) sounds like some kind of 50s crooner and it's completely awesome. The whole album seems to be about some girl he broke up with (or who broke up with him or simultaneously or whatever), but the sounds are so cool that I keep laughing during the middle of some heartbreaking diatribe about wanting to be happy again. </DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV>It's like Truvy (Dolly Parton) said in Steel Magnolia's, "laughter through tears is my favorite emotion." While I'm not sure laughter is emotion, I completely agree. </DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV>Listen to it on <A href="http://pitchfork.com/reviews/albums/13477-album/">Pitchfork</A> and go buy the album at <A href="http://www.amazon.com/Album-Girls/dp/B002GNOMJE/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&s=music&qid=1254160353&sr=8-3">Amazon.</A><BR> </DIV> <DIV><STRONG><FONT color=#ff007f> <P align=left><I></I> </P></FONT></STRONG></DIV> <DIV></DIV></div><br> Tinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16926145406502335217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8527917.post-55050326440274459362009-09-22T13:14:00.003-05:002009-09-22T13:30:17.026-05:00So that's what that was called...I've learned a word (thank you Jezebel!) to describe my complete obsessive disorders related to my neighbors. It's called a hate crush. I wouldn't say I go so far as to "hate" my neighbors but at times the venom I spit out probably seems like that to others.<br /><br />I do know the one neighbor plays tennis (as in carries multiple rackets and has a tennis bag backpack thing). He also reads the NYTimes on Sunday and drives a big truck, which he'd like to trade in for a Prius. He's recently updated his bumper sticker collection (vary sparse) with a school's mascot (not my school). He's pursuing an MBA at said school.<br /><br />I suspect one of the other neighbors might either a) travel a lot for her job or b) be a high-class escort. Mainly due to the traveling and BMW she drives. I suppose her parents could be monied or she could have a boyfriend she spends a few nights a week with, but I've really latched on to the high-class escort theory. I like her a lot more lately, because we bonded over the horrid workers our landlord hires.<br /><br />And the other couple. The couple. Who take up 2 parking spots in our small lot when each unit should really only get 1 spot. (I say this because I'd like to have a spot open at all times for my visitors - not theirs. I should win. I've been there longer.) And the stupid girl portion of the couple tries to steal my parking spot occasionally. It's not bad enough that they take two, but she's got to sneak in and steal mine when I'm gone for a few days? As if. My spot is MINE. It's right outside my apartment door and did I mention I've lived there longer than anyone else? I WIN.<br /><br />There's also an inordinate amount of peeking out the window to see what the goings-on are out there in neighborland. Of course all of this is complete cheese compared to my hate crush on the previous neighbor (before the tennis playing boy above). I only realized the last day he was there - his move out day - that he only had one arm. The entire two years he'd been there I'd observed his sexual habits (suspected gayness more out of shirtlessness frolicking with other shirtless boys than actual boy kissing or anything), his sporting habits (crew, which come to think of it is slightly impressive given the whole one arm thing), his obnoxious friends (they were the worst parking infringers), and his suspected trashcan moving tactics (don't ask). I also fell over the stone fence thing behind his apartment once when I was trying to look for something. It hurt a lot.<br /><br />Long way of saying that Jezebel rocks. They have given me a new label for my neuroses and I'm incredibly grateful for it.Tinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16926145406502335217noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8527917.post-51283051802830306902009-09-16T11:27:00.003-05:002009-09-16T11:55:33.390-05:00I'm a little shocked...Admittedly I've been avoiding most of the "you lie"/Rep. Wilson mess since it happened. I preferred not to contribute to what I considered low hypocrisy on the part of Wilson and the media frenzy that followed. Not to say I wasn't ticked, but I figured there were bigger things to worry about (i.e. my boss not eating me alive today for one).<br /><br />Last night I stumbled across KO for the first time in a couple of weeks (I guess since the Wilson mess) and heard the dreaded R word - race. At first I sort of laughed a little. Race? Wilson was just being a jackass. How does that have anything to do with racism or race issues? Wasn't this just Keith being a little out there? I normally agree with most things Countdown but not always. And I thought maybe this was one of those "not always" bits. But then I read about Jimmy Carter thinking the same thing. And then I clicked on "white supremists" on jezebel and found out that Wilson has a history of supporting white segregationists with confederate flag complexes. I think that last bit is perhaps a stretch on calling Wilson racist or anything, but it does sort of get to the heart of the question: does race play a role in all of this vitrolic Obama hate from the right?<br /><br />I'm one of those naive people who likes to say they understand the role race plays in modern America, all the while being white and middle-class and completely incapable of understanding the role race plays in modern America. I've never dared to say we're in a post-racial society though, because, quite frankly, I know better. I know people. I've heard things. We're not even close to being there. But I did think, again naively, that Obama getting elected meant there were more of us than them. And the "them" was not as vocal and/or adament as one might imagine.<br /><br />I guess I'm a little shocked, because I've just realized I'm wrong. Or that I was wrong. Or stupid or whatever you want to call it. I didn't want to think these vocal minorities were inherently incensed because of race. (I still don't want to think it.) I also didn't want to be a person who screamed "racism" at every person who had some kind of criticism or complaint, regardless of its accuracy or not.<br /><br />Aside: A repub friend of mine accused me of throwing out the racism label a little too freely a while back. We were having a discussion about Rush Limbaugh, and while Iwas completely right - <em>that dude is racist </em>(among a whole litany of offenses to pile in the racist column is the fact he was fired from Monday Night Football for making, ahem, racist comments and the lovely, lovely "Barack the Magic Negro" song he played over and over again on his radio show during the election cycle) - I was also self-aware enough to know that she was right. I could very easily throw out the word "racist" and have no qualms about labeling just about anyone I thought was a bit of an ass on the right. I didn't do that, of course, but I could have done that. Labeling a hate-monger or nut-job racist wasn't a big deal to me. Given my recent realization about my propensity to label, fairly or not, I didn't want to fall into the "cry wolf" category if I could help it.<br /><br />All of this said, I'm not at all calling Rep Wilson a racist. I have no idea if he is or not. I hope he's not. But I've naively blundered my way into thinking the world is a happy, nicer place because Obama is president. It's not. And I'm beginning to think, slowly and haltingly, that race is playing more of a role in the diatribe than I'd ever cared to admit before.<br /><br />What do you think? Are people calling it correctly?<br /><br />Oh and I think Jezebel hit it right on when they gave Matt Lauer what for for asking if it's worse to be racist or to have the label of racist thrown around. Um, what do you think, Mr. Privileged White Boy? I'd say it might be worse to be abused than to be called an abuser. Let's ask Rihanna or Chris Brown who has it worse. Bad example. Let's ask Rihanna in 20 years once she's come to her senses who had it worse. (Don't get me started on that stupid Chris Brown song making the rounds because of some dumb wedding dance. People are idiots.)Tinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16926145406502335217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8527917.post-12305113074757127602009-09-14T10:47:00.002-05:002009-09-14T11:58:00.459-05:00Oh Serena...Disclaimer: I really like Serena Williams. I don't care that she acts like a big baby after she loses matches, although I fully admit it, and I like the way she calls the media out on their bullshit.<br /><br />So then she goes and does something like this Saturday night.<br /><br /><object width="560" height="340"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/EZcDn8JWCLo&hl=en&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/EZcDn8JWCLo&hl=en&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="560" height="340"></embed></object><br /><br />In brief, she got called on a foot fault (questionable) to make it match point. She acted a fool and got penalized a point, which caused her to lose the match. Serena was also fined $10,000 (and $500 for breaking her raquet earlier in the match), and now the powers that be are contemplating suspending her and/or taking away all her prize winnings for the year and/or the U.S. Open. There are a few points to consider since it's rarely as simple as all that.<br /><br />1. She probably would have lost. Clijsters was beating her fair and square. Given #1,<br /><br />2. The whole incident took away Clijsters awesome play and win in the semis.<br /><br />3. The questionable foot fault. I'm of the opinion that the call was dubious, possibly correct (Serena admits she might have foot faulted), possibly incorrect, and uncalled for. Now I'm not a tennis expert, by any stretch of the imagination. However I do watch a fair bit of it. I've been known to wake up at 4 a.m. to catch portions of the Australian Open. (I do love my Rafa and Gonzo, although Rafa's new sleeve look and haircut are making him physically less appealing.) I've never heard foot faults called as much as they were at the U.S. Open, specifically against the Williams sisters. I have no idea if the Williams sisters are fudging the line, if the linespeople are anti-Williams, if the U.S. Open is attempting to be uber-fair, or if it's some kind of coincidence. I do know that there is a large portion of tennis watchers/players who believe foot faults should never be called, unless insanely bad, and they especially should not be called when it puts the game at match point. I tend to fall in the later category. I don't think all foot faults should be ignored (they're faults just like anything else), but I do think the line judges should err on the side of caution on a match point foot fault when it can't be challenged (replay). In baseball the umps give the runner the benefit of the doubt on too close to call cases. Why can't tennis officials have the same policies?<br /><br />Of course never let it be said I'm not a hypocrit, because if I hated Serena, I'd probably be espousing "rules are rules." But, to be fair, I've never been a stickler for rules unless it involves a) A Rod (hate that douchebag) or b) steroids. I don't even like the false start rule in track. Shitty rule, imo.<br /><br />4. The important stuff - the yelling. She flipped her lid, said something that resembled shoving the fucking tennis ball down the linesperson's fucking throat. And apparently holding her raquet (as tennis players are want to do) helped to make the whole thing some kind of crazy threatening showdown. Or whatever. So I saw her yell. I saw her walk over the linesperson and let flow a tirade of which I could only imagine the likes. And I can't say I wouldn't be completely terrified if Serena came at me screaming expletives and raquet all a-wonk. I would be absolutely, insanely scared for my life. Of course I would be acting completely ridiculously and everyone I know would make fun of me for being a wuss. I guess while technically shoving a tennis ball down one's thoat could kill a person, it seems a stretch to accuse one of attempted murder on the subject, no?<br /><br />5. I know the whole argument about Jimmy Conners and John McEnroe used to do it, so everyone should be able to do it is a shitty argument. But isn't it true a little bit? Of course they have to decide at some point that outrageous behavior on the court is ridiculous, but is it at all suspect that they choose Serena to do it? Could be coincidence but if so, it's quite the coincidence. Every sport has different rules, but I can't imagine a baseball player being suspended for pointing the bat at the ump while he called him a "walking penis" or some such nonsense. Or an "abortion" as John McEnroe so famously put it. I might be wrong but even so, it wouldn't be much of a suspension, maybe a game or two. Nothing spectacular. Talking about banning Serena from all future grand slams is all about the ridiculous.<br /><br />6. People are pissed because Serena hasn't apologized. As a non-apologizer myself, I can feel her pain. Plus she said she acted badly. Personally I don't see how an admission of bad behavior is any less than an apology. To me it seems more sincere. What difference does apologizing make if she doesn't admit she acted badly? If she talks about acting poorly or lacking good judgment but without the words "sorry" or "apologize" in the sentence, I don't think that makes anything any less sincere. And technically she's been fined the max for her actions, so why should she apologize? Isn't it a bit like double taxation? Like the time my car got towed for parking in a valet only spot and then when I picked it up I had a ticket too? All that said, a well-worded and somewhat heartfelt group of words can go a long way to making people fell like it's okay to be okay with said person again. For example, Djokovich (hope I spelled that right) acted an ass a couple of years ago when he played Roddick and I thought he was a dick. This year he said he was a bit up his own ass (or some such language) then and shouldn't have taken things so seriously. That isn't an apology either, but somehow he made nice with all the tennis fans because of it. Should we all still hate him because he didn't use the correct words? Or should we not care because he didn't "threaten" Roddick?<br /><br />Long way to say: I'm torn on the whole Serena thing. Part of me is mad at the line judge for being a stickler, all the while admitting she had every right to be so, enthralled by Serena for daring to propose shoving a fucking ball down an official's fucking throat, and the pacifist part of me is slightly appalled by the violent display she vented on the linesperson. I don't want the rules to be enforced on Serena when they haven't been on anyone else, but I also don't believe that you don't get to be tougher just because you weren't in the past (i.e. Conners/McEnroe arguments). I'm all aflutter with conflicting thoughts and I feel wronged for Serena. I can't decide if I'm biased (because I like Serena and she's a woman) or if there's really something wrong with this picture.<br /><br />I can say I would like for all the sports writers to stop being so holier-than-thou. As if they've never lost their cool before (assuming they played a sport or were/are competitive in some way) and done/said things they really shouldn't have. I have a friend who threatened to cut her boyfriend's head off once. She really meant to be funny and mention something along the lines of "I'll cut you," but she was pissed and it came out all wrong. I doubt she really meant to threaten him with decapitation.<br /><br />Le sigh.Tinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16926145406502335217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8527917.post-82480430742153565022009-08-31T10:28:00.002-05:002009-08-31T10:41:43.268-05:00Texas Residents Only...G and I were having some frozen yogurt Friday night in a nearby mega-community (you know the ones - oodles of work/live space but the work is all somewhat trendy and expensive and the live is corporate apartment housing used mainly by students?), when my eyes happened to stray to a nearby "European" waxing shop/spa/salon. An aside: I wonder what a European wax is? Is it significantly different than salons that feature the infamous Brazillian wax? But I digress. What attracted my attention was the huge FREE! sign on the window. I'm, at heart, cheap and relish words like "free" and "one time only," etc. As such, I was naturally drawn to the sign. And being a woman of the law, I read the fine print.<br /><br />See for yourself:<br /> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1Dpz99p8AO4ntoe4Ln4ONa_16guE1pPURDm10j8cfwrp90Vwh4vpCZCSEvOkddvc6rHY_U_7m6scUvFoKXRox6qqXzHZWZWXkG8Q1KfMJgTrD5QdwfGJCeQykzA3bcwQZPXNp/s1600-h/Texas+Residents+Only.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376151300289950306" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1Dpz99p8AO4ntoe4Ln4ONa_16guE1pPURDm10j8cfwrp90Vwh4vpCZCSEvOkddvc6rHY_U_7m6scUvFoKXRox6qqXzHZWZWXkG8Q1KfMJgTrD5QdwfGJCeQykzA3bcwQZPXNp/s320/Texas+Residents+Only.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />So I'm just wondering... how many non-Texas residents in the major metropolitan of ATX come seeking a free introductory waxing offer? Do people in the great states of New Mexico, Oregon, Tennessee, etc. sit around discussing that free waxing deal in Texas, only to get here and realize, darn! it's for Texas residents only. Is a European wax so worth it and hard to come by that people coming in for free waxings from other states is a such a huge problem?<br /><br />Given the exclusivity of the bargain, Texas only, I think I might have to give it a try. I mean, who am I to say no to an obviously fabulous deal like a free European waxing? And since I am a local, can I really justifiably say no?<br /><br />I suggest all you recent Wisconsin converts hold on to your Texas licenses. You wouldn't want to be unable to get your free European wax, you know. Just a suggestion...Tinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16926145406502335217noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8527917.post-42770120342013291332009-08-27T10:42:00.003-05:002009-08-27T12:10:17.977-05:00Titsapity...I've been traveling for work all week and while we were wasting our time waiting for people to not show up for scheduled meetings, my coworker A and I seriously killed some crossword puzzles. And by killed I mean cheated. But I digress. I'm doing an NYTimes one, she's doing some local paper one, and we switched halfway through. We're both asking each other questions, talking out loud, etc. (as you do), when I hear her say something along the lines of "titsapity is a bitch one." And then, "titsapity is a whore, right? Or a bore?" After hearing her say "titsapity" a few more times, I realized she was a) talking to me and b) I had absolutely no idea what words were coming out of her mouth. What follows is a brief breakdown of our conversation, as I remember it:<br /><br />Me: Wha?<br />Her: Titsapity is a whore.<br />Me: Are you speaking english?<br />Her: Yes.<br />Me: Who's a whore?<br />Her: What's a bore?<br />Me: I'm confused.<br />Her: Titsapity. Is it she's a whore? Or she's a bore?<br />Me: I have no clue what words you are saying.<br />Her: T-I-S A P-I-T-Y<br />Me: Are you saying 'tis? (pronounced correctly as in tizz)<br />Her: Right. 'Tis. (pronounced incorrectly as in tiss)<br />Me: I have no idea if your tits are whorish or borish but the word you're trying to say is prounounced tizz, not tiss and not tits.<br />Her: I know it's not tits. Tiss a pity.<br />Me: No. Tizz.<br />Her. Right. So is it titsapity she's a whore or titsapity she's a bore?<br />Me: Good god.<br /><br />So in the world of made up wrong words (i.e. hyperbowl instead of hyperbole and now titsapity instead of 'tis a pity), I'm officially adopting titsapity into my everyday vocabulary. How is it used you may ask? Like this:<br /><br />Friend: That cute neighbor guy of yours plays in the gay tennis league. <br />Me: Damn. Titsapity, man, titsapity.Tinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16926145406502335217noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8527917.post-32247510359778653902009-08-19T16:46:00.000-05:002009-08-19T16:47:01.649-05:00OMG...<div style="font-family:times new roman, new york, times, serif;font-size:12pt"><DIV></DIV> <DIV>I might be a violent person. I just smashed my fist on a coworkers top shelf (bookshelf) and bowed it in two. Her candy jar went flying, her inboxes jumped around, and various other sundries (don't ask) were all askew. I tried to recreate the scene later and couldn't so much as budge the shelf, much less bow it. I can't even believe I am capable of such action. I blame it on pilates making me do all those push-ups. Damn the pilates. It was a moment of passion but mainly done for amusement's sake and it went all wrong! I was so traumatized by my actions that I had to eat half a bag of animal cookies to convince myself I wasn't a terribly violent person. Although I'm not sure eating the feet off camels one by one is exactly indicative of a peaceful nature...<BR> </DIV></div><br> Tinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16926145406502335217noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8527917.post-89683590584625914962009-08-17T16:59:00.002-05:002009-08-17T17:07:06.525-05:00I fucking hate roofers...Or roof repairers. Whatever. Call me an elitist snob but I Hate Them. It was supposed to take 1 or 2 days (at most). Day 2 was a Saturday. I realized Saturday afternoon that a mirror had fallen off my wall and a smoke detector is hanging by a precarious thread, threatening to hit me on the head in one of my mad dashes up the stairs to the restroom, which will result in one or both of the following: 1) a fall back down the stairs and/or 2) me pissing myself. Nice, eh? I also realized last night that my bed and nightstands have shifted noticeably and now stand at some kind of crazy 45 degree angle from the wall they were so equally balanced against.<br /><br />Oh and at 6:22 a.m. this morning when I was so rudely jarred awake by the sound of Apocolypse Now (in the form of my roof caving in)? Yeah, I really hated them then.<br /><br />I cannot express how much I wanted to remove the kazillion foot ladder (their only way up and down to the roof) this morning when I left for work. I wanted to kick it over and watch it land on the ground, all loud and long, and look up at the rooftop where the sweaty, noisy, asshole workers would be looking down at the crazy, hysterical-with-laughter girl below.<br /><br />Screw you, roofer people.Tinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16926145406502335217noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8527917.post-88800908639146882512009-08-13T13:47:00.002-05:002009-08-13T14:26:49.781-05:00What happens in Vegas...gets posted on my blog. Unfortunately I left before Bill had his bday party, but I suppose it couldn't be helped.<br /><br />Here's a brief rundown of my stay in Sin City:<br /><br />Thursday night - Arrived in Vegas and at G's insistence, ate at some horrid $5.99 for steak and eggs restaurant, and got caught in a crazy, sandstorm. I couldn't see through the smoke filled casinos and accidentally walked right into the swirling dirt. It was very surreal and felt too David Lynch for my tastes.<br /><br />Friday Morning - Got up early and went horseback riding in Red Rock Canyon. (One would assume that since I'm from Texas I know how to ride a horse. That would be a bad assumption. I rode horses when I was little and with bigger, older people and the experiences only created vague enough memories to assure me I'd done it.) I rode the hugest horse evah! Her name was June (I assumed as in Cleaver but turns out it was short for Junebug). G's horse was tiny and he looked like he was riding a donkey next to me and my Clydesdale. Turns out getting oneself into a horse saddle is quite the complicated endeavor. As my horse's belly came to about my chin, I considered it quite the feat that I was able to put my left foot in the left foot saddle thing (what's that called?). With my foot raised almost above my head, I looked at the horse wrangler guy and asked him what to do next. He suggested, politely, that I grab the horse horn thing (on the saddle) and pull myself up and swing my right leg over the horse to put my right foot in the right foot saddle thing. Here's me - uh, wha? Did I mention my horse refused to stay still and I was left hopping around with my one leg that was still precariously on the ground while my other foot was in the foot saddle? It was very natural and not at all uncomfortable and terrifying. Luckily the horse wrangler had the vision to see the pure "what the fuck are you talking about horse boy?" look on my face and helped me up onto the giant horse. After mounting the beast, the rest was smooth sailing. Except for the shit and piss parts. Horses do that a lot. It's gross. My ass was sore pretty much the rest of Vegas, but the scenery was beautiful and I convinced my horse to trot a few times so I think it was worthwhile.<br /><br />Friday Afternoon/Evening - Ate a place called the Burger Bar that had a truffle hamburger. It looked awesome but cost $60, so it was only for oohhing and aaahhing over. We spent the evening downtown (hurrah Golden Nugget!) and had a blast. That's definitely the fun place for gambling in Vegas. No one takes themselves too seriously and it's got all the cheap tables.<br /><br />Saturday Morning - I hit the pool! Anyone who knows at all knows that I am not a pool person. I bemoan almost all sun exposure and slather the spf on at all possible times. But I chose a chair in the shade, it was cool enough that I kept my sweater on while I was there, and it was so damn peaceful that it made me think that maybe I've missed the mark on my anti-pool stance. The only thing that would have made it better was if I had a fruity beverage to drink, but I figured it was too early in the morning to start all that.<br /><br />Saturday Afternoon - I met G at a buffet at the Paris. Apparently it's supposed to be good. G gave it a 7/10 but only because he couldn't eat all the crab and shrimp stuff (he's allergic). Otherwise he said it was a 9/10. Personally I've been to that buffet before and it's where S and I named our food babies "Mimosa." No explanation needed really. Then I left G and decided to participate at a poker! tournament! I was so excited - you have no idea. I paid my entry fee and was the 2nd person out at my table. In case you don't know poker, that's bad. In a huff, I decided to win my entry fee back at the slot machines. I lost more money. Boo. Then I decided to leave the swarthy gambling arenas and go see some high art. The Bellagio has a fine art museum and the exhibit was a small but awesome Lichtenstein, Warhol and Friends soiree. It helped to soothe the savage beast within (I hate losing - even at gambling), and I spent the rest of the afternoon softly mewing over the beauties of modern art. Okay, that's not true at all. Modern art makes me laugh (at not with the art and artists) and I actually spent the afternoon feeling morally superior to the idiots who make the audio guide (or written guides for that matter) to modern art exhibits.<br /><br />Saturday Evening - Saw Ka!, a Cirque de Soleil show and it was freaking awesome. Spent the rest of the evening at some bar, lost G for about half an hour, found G, and found some cage fighters. Not at the same time. Fun evening.<br /><br />Sunday Day - slept late. Ate at Serendipity by myself with my lovely, lovely book (I'm reading The Time Traveler's Wife for the 2nd time and it's way better on the 2nd read) and had tomato soup with goldfish crackers! I love Serendipity. I also attempted a piece of cheesecake later on in the day (what? I was on vacation), and the piece that came to my table was bigger than my head. I read the menu a little closer and read that it was suitable for 2 people, but I'm guessing more like 6. I made such a small dent in it that the server thought I was unhappy with it. To prove I wasn't, I pointed out how I'd eaten all the whipped cream off the top of the cheesecake, which I guess, to his credit, wasn't exactly evidence of the deliciousness of the cheesecake itself but it was just too damn big! Who can eat that much cheesecake? In between the two Serendipity visits, I sat down at a poker table in another casino. I decided to try my hand at a cash game this time instead of a tournament. It worked out much better and I walked away after a couple of hours even, which was a nice change from my last attempt the day before. I visited the Forum Shops and decided I was way too spirtually wealthy to need any of that vain, commercial crap. (Read: I wanted to save my money for flitting away at the casinos in the evening instead since it was my last night.)<br /><br />Sunday Night - Saw Penn & Teller, got my tix autographed, and took my picture with both of them. They rocked. They were hilarious and smart. What more can you ask for? We were leaving Vegas at 6:30 a.m., so we decided to spend the entire night out and about. G went to the stuff he liked and once again, I decided to give poker another shot. It was quite the good decision, if I do say so myself. I made a table full of big, strong men weep into their dwindling pile of chips. I bought in at the minimum buy-in, because above all else, I'm superbly cheap, and I nursed my tiny stack of chips until my moment came. Once I'd doubled up, I played a little looser and all those boys who told me to stick by them, that they would help me? walked away empty-handed when I took all their money. And did I mention there was a professional player at the table? I won't say his name (mainly because I don't remember it and don't feel like looking him up although I could 'cause he's on tv and shit), but I took half his stack as well. And yes, it felt good. Eat that, male-dominated semi-sport. And I only stopped short from wiping the whole table clean because I had to leave for the airport. I also got in quite the, um, "debate" over how amazing (or in their cases how unamazing) T.O. is, but I feel I've called it on this one. We'll see, poker boys, we'll see.<br /><br />Monday Morning/Afternoon/Night - got lost in a haze of crazy dreams and sleep-addled wanderings as I made my way back to the ATX.<br /><br />So here you have it. My first post back is a grand diatribe on the ins and outs of a Vegas trip that only I'm interested in. I hope all you encouragers and well-wishers are happy.Tinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16926145406502335217noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8527917.post-89774928686181893192009-08-05T22:15:00.001-05:002009-08-05T22:17:17.192-05:00Okay, okay.I'm kind of an ass, I know. I'm going to Vegas for the weekend but come next week, I'll be back on a more regular basis. Peer pressure is a bitch. Oh yeah, one more thing: thanks, I think...Tinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16926145406502335217noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8527917.post-51871679204382696762009-05-01T12:19:00.001-05:002009-05-01T12:19:58.736-05:00Well shit...<div style="font-family:times new roman, new york, times, serif;font-size:12pt"><DIV></DIV> <DIV>I always thought I was lucky to live in Texas - at least from a natural disaster perspective. Sure we have earthquakes but not the kind that will take us off into the sea. And yes, there are tornados, but we're no Kansas, right? When the poles switch places, the polar icecaps melt, or whatever happens when it gets all freezy up north, Texas gets to be a modern day Minnesota - cold but still liveable. The terrorists may want to take out symbolic sites, but unless they've got a fondness for the Alamo, Texas ain't high on their list.</DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV>But now I go and read that in the <A href="http://news.yahoo.com/s/livescience/20090501/sc_livescience/worstcasescenarioforfluestimated">worst case pig flu scenario</A>, Texas comes up short. So shit. I can avoid random, movie-making natural disasters, but the black plague? No such luck. But don't worry. I'm not hysterical or anything. I like to leave that kind of MASS PANIC to the parents of 3rd graders and CNN. I mean, really. I listen to sound words of advice, not fear-mongering. It's a good thing we have our national leaders here to talk some sense into me, isn't that right, <A href="http://gawker.com/5234254/joe-biden-run-to-the-hills-run-for-your-life">Mr. Biden</A>? </DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV> </DIV></div><br> Tinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16926145406502335217noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8527917.post-17374165906127631182009-04-28T10:10:00.002-05:002009-04-28T11:13:17.102-05:00RIP Dorothy, Maude, Bea...I learned so much about Bea Arthur when I read her obit in the NYTimes on Sunday. I didn't know she died until then. I was in DC over the weekend and missed any important news until I picked up a copy of the paper Sunday evening in the airport. (PSA - buy papers!) I was surprised - not about her death although that was sad but about all the interesting facts within. Did you know that Bea didn't own up to any one age? No one really knows how old she is. I might start adopting that philosophy. The NYTimes said she was probably around 86 though.<br /><br />I've seen a ton of stuff about her on the internet, some of which I'll post links to. But I think my favorite Bea Arthur moment, aside from her Golden Girls years (did you know I'm always a Dorothy in GG quizzes?), is the time she helped roast Pamela Anderson and read aloud from Pam's book about the joys/intriques of anal sex. It's pretty much the funniest thing I've ever heard involving Pam Anderson, which really says a lot.<br /><br />My list of web-related/tv-related Bea activities and my own, personal favorite Bea moments:<br /><br />1. WE is planning a 2 night homage to Dorothy Zbornak last night and Thursday night. If you missed last night, check it out (or DVR it) on Thursday.<br /><br />2. USA Today did a <a href="http://www.usatoday.com/life/television/news/2009-04-25-bea-arthur-obit_N.htm">thing</a> about her. And the <a href="http://www.latimes.com/entertainment/news/arts/la-et-bea-appreciation27-2009apr27,0,1470617.story">LATimes</a> did a fairly decent obit as well.<br /><br />3. Maude had an abortion. Did you know? She was in her 40s, married, and decided she was too old to have a baby. So she did it. Pretty shocking by today's tv standards. Of course Maude <em>was</em> a spin-off of All in the Family, so what can you expect? (See the Jezebel piece for the video on it.)<br /><br />4. This is the fabulous <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2009/04/26/arts/television/26arthur.html?_r=1&scp=2&sq=bea%20arthur&st=cse">NYTimes obit</a> I read about her (along with a <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/slideshow/2009/04/25/arts/0426-ARTHUR_index.html">picture slideshow</a>). It's really good.<br /><br />5. <a href="http://jezebel.com/5229642/bea-arthurs-top-5-contributions-to-pop-culture?skyline=true&s=x">Jezebel</a> has a top 5 Bea Arthur moment piece that includes two of my favorites (the Pam Anderson bit and a song and dance bit from early on, which admittedly I only saw for the first time in the last couple of years).<br /><br />6. Bea singing in a <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uVbCS8vg8m0">Star Wars Holiday special</a>. Ha! Freaking hilarious.<br /><br />7. And finally one of my favorite, non-zinger Dorothy moments on Golden Girls:<br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/wxJsl4e0Xmg&hl=en&fs=1&rel=0"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/wxJsl4e0Xmg&hl=en&fs=1&rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>Tinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16926145406502335217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8527917.post-4625449293580397232009-04-21T13:27:00.001-05:002009-04-21T13:29:18.535-05:00Flowers are blooming it seems...<table width="145"><tbody><tr><td style="BORDER-RIGHT: #006600 2px solid; BORDER-TOP: #006600 2px solid; PADDING-BOTTOM: 5px; BORDER-LEFT: #006600 2px solid; COLOR: #ffffff; PADDING-TOP: 5px; BORDER-BOTTOM: #006600 2px solid" align="middle" bgcolor="#ffffff"><p style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold; FONT-SIZE: 15px; COLOR: #000000; FONT-FAMILY: Georgia,Serif">I am a<br />Nigella <a style="FONT-SIZE: 15px; COLOR: #0000ff; FONT-FAMILY: Georgia,Serif" href="http://www.thisgardenisillegal.com/flower-quiz.htm"><br /><img height="200" src="http://thisgardenisillegal.com/quiz/nigella.jpg" width="140" border="0" /><br />What Flower<br />Are You?</a><br /></p></td></tr></tbody></table><p>"Many people think you are just a little bit odd, but you consider yourself just a little eccentric. You find new experiences exciting and fulfilling."</p><p>I don't even know what kind of flower this is. And I'm probably never going to be referred to as a flower by anyone, ever. I'm not exactly fond of things that manage to grow on their own. Plants freak my shit out. I wish I were kidding.</p><p> </p>Tinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16926145406502335217noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8527917.post-40590907376303326992009-04-21T12:59:00.001-05:002009-04-21T12:59:30.667-05:00I'd shake his hand...<div style="font-family:times new roman, new york, times, serif;font-size:12pt"><DIV></DIV> <DIV>I, a citizen of Austin, Texas, U.S. of A, would shake Hugo Chavez's hand if he offered it to me. I guess I'm a pinko commie, no? Well it's not the first time I've been called that. Just ask my favorite right-wing, nutjob, Doug. </DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV>On a different note, tobacco infused tequila is my new favorite alcohol. Try it. It will blow your mind. (And I hate smokers and smoking, so it's not that kind of thing.) </DIV></div><br> Tinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16926145406502335217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8527917.post-76344541175256157462009-04-17T11:17:00.001-05:002009-04-17T11:17:09.155-05:00Speaking of the Dixie Chicks...<div style="font-family:times new roman, new york, times, serif;font-size:12pt"><DIV></DIV> <DIV>I'm incredibly embarassed to be associated with the crap that our Governor Head of Hair is spewing right now. Texas could secede? Is he fucking insane? </DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV>I'm quoting a local Austin paper, which generally sucks ass so don't read it but, "According to The Associated Press, Perry suggested in response to a reporter's question that Texans might at some point get so fed up with Democratic-led actions in Washington that they would want to secede."</DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV>I did NOT vote for that asshat. I heard him speak at a college graduation last year and I'm certain he was a) drunk, b) unprepared to give a speech, and c) stupid. I canNOT believe anyone would bother to quote anything he has to say. </DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV>Geez. What a loser. Oh and I heard he really enjoys the teabagging. *snicker*</DIV></div><br> Tinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16926145406502335217noreply@blogger.com171tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8527917.post-60546613491187915902009-04-14T14:24:00.000-05:002009-04-14T14:25:00.836-05:00Apparently my mother is way cooler than me...<div style="font-family:times new roman, new york, times, serif;font-size:12pt"><DIV></DIV> <DIV>She's going on a cruise of castles in Amsterdam and Germany. Or some such ridiculousness. And although I abhor cruises, I'm so jealous I can't see straight. I had to help her with cocktail attire (for the dinners), for god's sake! Plus she's already been to Amsterdam once. Isn't that enough? (An aside: I was scarred beyond recognition from that first trip to Amsterdam. Imagine your mother standing next to a 12 foot tall penis at the sex musuem and you'll only begin to imagine what I'm talking about.)</DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV>Karmically speaking, I realize she's suffered by marrying a baseball-loving, cigar smoker, but come on! And I realize her first son must be a huge disappointment due to his college football, political, and religious affiliations, but really she should have just nipped all that shit in the bud early on, right? </DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV>Okay fine. I'm not saying she doesn't deserve to go. I'm just saying I deserve it too. And possibly more than her, because.... well, because I say so. </DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV>Jealousy does not bring out my best colors.</DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV> </DIV></div><br> Tinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16926145406502335217noreply@blogger.com3