Friday, September 12, 2008

A Sorbo is a terrible thing to waste

Okay, so last night I'm watching the last half of a Lifetime movie I had recorded. And it was an egregiously Lifetime movie. Bolier plate woman in jeop from evil ex, handsome man to the rescue, cute kid on the side, bad dialogue, stock characters, and a threatening bobcat thrown in for good measure (and for the record, I don't know anyone who actually lives in bobcat territory who lives in terror of an attack; sure they have a healthy respect for a wild animal, but nobody actually scurries around in wide-eyed terror). So why watch this piece of teeerash? Simple. Kevin Sorbo.

I gots a little thing for Kevin Sorbo. He's so not my type. But he's just so dang cute. He's handsome, he's fit, he's charming, he's Hercules. And he always makes me giggle girlishly when he shows up. And frankly, I don't think he shows up enough. Can someone not find a project for this man? [Though he did show up in a classic guest spot on the best show of the year (The Middleman - watch it, people!) I think it shows a sad lack of imagination that Hollywood can't come up with a use for the world's most under-used natural resource - Kevin Sorbo. (Blogger's note - I'm shaking my fist to emphasize this point.)

Though I guess he's still got Hercules money and probably only has to work when he wants to. Though why he'd choose this Lifetime weepy of the week to squander his inimitable talent, I can't figure. Maybe he needs to build a new deck on his house. Or he was just sitting around in his boxers, bored out of his mind (allow me to take a moment to visualize that . . . .), and decided to just take the first thing that came along. Anyway, I felt bad for him. Not only was this the bottom of the barrel sort of Lifetime dreck, it was written by Linda Lael Miller. And while Ms. Miller can write the bejeesus out of a sex scene in a book (some naughty stuff), she can't write dialogue to save a whale. It's almost George Lucas-dialogue bad. Ouch. I found myself wincing, some of those clunkers were so bad. Ah, Kevin Sorbo. You poor thing.

Hollywood, don't let this happen again. Sorbo. Use him. (Fist shaking!)

Wednesday, September 10, 2008

Tip Top Design

Oh!  Oh!  Oh!  EXCITEMENT!!

Okay, I decided to watch Top Design's new season tonight.  Actually, I was too lazy to look for anything else to watch.  But this season seems to be more or less what the last season was.  Cat fights and throw pillows.  If it weren't for the excellent Todd Oldham (I'm sitting on a Todd couch by the way - adore him) I wouldn't even have bothered.  Jonathan Adler still looks like he smells something funny.  Maybe it's his sweaters.

Anyway.  The real point is that next week.  The guest clients are past Project Runway designers.  I spotted Chris March, Santino, Sweet Pea and Andre!  Ahhhhhh!  It's like a fantasy land for me!  Oh, my god.  They are going to make those bitches work!!  DVR is on record.

Print me up a shirt!,106605

Ya know I don't pay attention to the football. So, I'm late to this story. But, well. It finally caught my attention. It seems this gentleman, who is some kind of football person (I don't know if he's a full-end or a tight-quarter, or what have you) has changed his last name from Johnson (admittedly not a terribly inspiring name) to Ocho Cinco (which has a lot of flair).

The reason I noticed (and I wouldn't want to be the one to bring this to Sr. Ocho Cinco's attention - those football types are usually bigguns), is that I think maybe it's wrong. I had to go look this up, because my Sesame Street Spanish is a little rusty, but I believe that the number on his football jumper is actually referred to as "eighty-five" which would be Ochenta y Cinco, rather than eight five, which is what he's using. Whoopsie.

Not that I'd in anyway want to discourage people from coming up with a flashy nickname. I'm thinking of doing the same as Ocho Cinco. Do you suppose I could get a legal name change to Julie Nalgas Dulce?

No Soup for You!

You know. I think one of the reasons I don't like cooking is that I'm so lazy. Okay, yeah. Duh, you say. But it is actually more complicated than that. Not only am I bone idle, but I have an almost unerring instinct for picking out recipes that call for faaaaarrr more effort than I'd ever willingly put in. In my food world there are two kinds of recipes: 1) pull tab, microwave, stir; and 2) full-on foodapalooza. No middle ground.

You know how some women can go into a store looking for a purse, and they have some kind of radar that makes them grab the most expensive purse on the rack? Over and over again. Me, I can thumb through a cookbook, and every recipe that sounds remotely appealing will have 42 steps, 94 ingredients and include either braising, basting, simmering for long periods of time or some sort of ninja knife skills that I do not possess.

Or they'll just be plain old grunt work. One of my favorite things in the world is gazpacho. But I don't order it in a restaurant, because they always do the traditional style with bread crumbs mixed in. Bread crumbs in cold tomato soup? Nuh-uh. Me no like. I like my bread in tasty-toastey bits on the side, so that they can be dropped in a few at a time and not get soggy. So, if I want gazpacho, I either have to make it myself, a long and arduous process, or beg my mother to make it, also a long and arduous process.

And it's not that it's overly complicated. Any doofus can make it. It's just that you have to chop a phenomenal amount of veggies to make enough for guests. And damn it, if I'm going to make gazpacho, I want an audience. A freaking appreciative audience. Plus, you don't just chop the tomatoes. You have to do a concasse. Which, quite frankly, is a bitch. If I ever went to culinary school, concasse day would be the day I'd say "hellz no" and walk out. Anyway, you core, peel, seed (reserving the tomato goo), then chop, with your hands all messy, then put the tomato goo through a strainer to get the last of the tomatoey goodness. But wait! That's not all! It's chop, chop, chop your way through green peppers, onions, jalepeno, cucumber and garlic. Yee-ikes. Very labor intensive. But, admittedly, soooo worth it.

But most of the time, when it comes to a choice between the 4-hour cooking marathon, and ripping open a bag of chocolate donettes? Yeah, you know which one I pick.

Funny Bunny

don't know who the kid is - just saw the pic on the Chicago Tribune website - such a crack up I had to share.

Tuesday, September 9, 2008

Corn-ering the Market

No sooner had I mentioned that I've given up regular soda, due to what may possibly be a problem that my body has processing corn syrup, did I see an ad from the good people who make corn syrup rebutting the current scuttlebut about their product.

Basically, their point is that all these vague, unsubstantiated rumors are just plain ridiculous. Why would you think that something made out of your good old buddy corn could possibly harm you, you silly-billy?

I could probably point out that Willie Nelson's bio-diesel is made with corn too. But I'm unlikely to pop open a can to have with my lunch. Instead, I'm going to take them at their word that all things corn are just great for me (in moderation, of course), and start eating corny dogs, movie theater popcorn and hush puppies with no guilt whatsoever. Hell, it's practically health food. I'm surprised I like them at all.

And also, kudos to the corn syrup people for making me feel ignorant and reactionary for giving credence to those wild rumors, accusations and scientific studies. Nothing like a kick to my self-esteem to make me want to run out and buy your product. I am, indeed, a silly-billy. In fact, I think I'll just run out and get myself a six-pack to drink in celebration of my return to sanity. Thanks, corn syrup. You're a pal.

Circle Circle Dot Dot

I knew it! I knew it! Kids are just really effective germ delivery systems. Okay, I may be more sensitive to this right now, seeing as I'm a seething mass of germ-riddled snot, but I ain't touching any kids in the near future. Grubby little carriers. I think this is probably one of those biological mechanisms. Flu germs attach themselves to kids, because kids are cute and you just want to hug 'em and kiss 'em and pat 'em on the head. Giving the flu buggies the chance to jump on you and colonize and make you wish you were dead.

Well, I'm not falling for it. My immunity level is in the sub-basement right now. And if anything even remotely nasty gets near me, I'm done for. So I don't care if some kid that looks like the second coming of Dakota Fanning comes near me. They need to keep their grubby little mitts and their cooties to themselves. Unless of course they don't mind me dipping them in a bucket of hand sanitizer first.

Monday, September 8, 2008

My latest conspiracy theory

Okay, here it is. Why McCain/Palin? How did the Republican Party end up with such an . . . unlikely ticket. My conspiracy theory (cause ya know I love a good conspiracty theory) is that the Reps have decided on a little blood letting this election. Make a sacrifice this year and come out stronger for next big congressional election and 2012. Here's how I think it plays out:

How do you solve a problem like Johnny?

John McCain has been a pain in the keister for the RNC for years. That whole "maverick" thing. He's constantly drawn outside the party lines and it's made them crazy. You can't bounce him entirely. Look what happened to the Democrats and Liberman. Yeeouch. Nobody can put a leash on Joe now, and he was nearly the Republican VP nominee. Embarrassing. You've got to keep McCain in the fold. What do you do? Give him what he's asking for - sure, go ahead, we're behind you! They didn't think they could beat Obama anyway, so why not use this election to rid themselves of this meddlesome senator? And they're hoping he goes down in FLAMES. So that they can say "Awwww, dude. Too bad. Better luck next time. Oh, wait . . . Awwww. Too bad."

The Governor of Alaska? Really?

Then there's Sarah Palin. Who wasn't even on the radar until everybody's saying "Who the hell is Sarah Palin?" Yet, this makes sense too. I think the Republicans are tired of getting jerked around by the ultra-conservative Christians. They've had to build their platforms on "moral issues" for 10 years. And let's face it. Morality is no politician's strong suit. They'd rather talk about small government and cutting taxes. WWJD is not in their wheelhouse. And the strain is starting to show. So, what to do? Put in a Veep nominee who will have to stand in a debate and say that she believes in strict Creationism (that's dinosaurs and people living together, folks) and that it should be taught in the schools. And that abstinence only should be taught too teenagers (did you think the pregnant daughter coming out right at the convention was a coincidence? Ohhh. I think not). Sarah Palin can change her name to Canon Fodder. Cause she's going to be taking a lot of flak in the next month or two. And a lot of Christians who aren't fundamentalists (and there are more than a few of those, despite what the extreme right would like you to think) are going to start wondering if they want people who represent such a small sector of believers controlling the national debate and speaking for them.

So maybe this is the Republican leadership's chance to steer their boat in to calmer waters. Trim some dead weight. Cruel to be kind. I for one think they could come out better for it. It's a theory at least.

HR Puffin-up

I went to visit a friend who moved to Texas over the weekend. She's a city girl, but has found herself out at the edge of Hill Country. She's got a cute house on a small place (2.5 acres is small to tiny in that part of the world) out in the hills. Really a gorgeous area.

A gorgeous area covered with mountain cedar. I am so allergic to mountain cedar I can't even tell you. Usually, in Dallas, we just get some of the mountain cedar blowing in from the south when there's warm weather in the late summer/early fall. And I'll get a little scratchy throat-itchy eyes-snotty sinus action. But out in the Hill Country, it was the difference between sticking your big toe in the pool, or doing a canon ball. And down there, I was in way over my head. Zyrtec helps, but it's no match for the full on for

So, I'm sitting around the kitchen table with my friend and her family. We're having this really nice conversation, just catching up on everything that's happened in the last 8 years, and I can feel my entire head just grinding to a halt. My sinuses are blowing up like car airbags. Bloof! And, okay sorry this is gross, but there is all this "fluid" up there that's trying to get out past my swollen nasal cavity. And it's just building and building. Then all the sudden there's a breach, and I've got snot running out of my nose like I'm 3 or something. Really cool. And a such an attractive quality in a house guest. So, of course, my ability to hold up my end of the conversation goes down to about nothing. Because all I'm able to think about is whether there's going to be a bio-flash flood pouring out of my face in the next two seconds.

I'm back home, and still recovering. Ugh. What a day.

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