I'm going to jump on Project Runway, because I'm so happy with the Auf this week. Spoilage all over the place in here.
First, and most importantly, I've perfected my Heidi Klum impression. Okay it's only one word "Hello!", but it is dead smack on. Killer.
Number two: drag queens. What a fan-freaking-tastic idea. It shows the outer edges of creativity plus demands excellent construction (I'm looking at you, Blayne, with your sad little droopy, last pinata at the fiesta costume. You were lucky, little man. I'd have aufed ya, fer sure.). Bonus points to the PR production staff for that one.
Number three: Well done on Joe. That spangly pink sailor suit on Ms. Merman was phenomenal! Her ass looked a pair of pink Hostess sno-balls. I knew Joe had it when he said it was like designing a Halloween costume for one of his daughters. Ding ding ding! Got it in one, hon.
And on to number four: Mr. High End Tastes. Bitch, please. You do a stage costume for a drag queen - no feathers, no rhinestones, no sequins. Just a few cha-cha ruffles? If I was his gal, I'd have crushed Daniel under my size 13 platform stilettos. What a twerp. And he called the drag queens tacky to their faces. Wow. Just wow. Stunning. Good riddance to whiney rubbish.
And lastly, how nice was it to see Chris March? I'm starting to feel very strongly that he was the best PR personality - EVER. That interplay between him and Heidi as they walked off the runway was completely delish. When does he get his own show?
Thursday, August 21, 2008
A pain in the neck
http://news.yahoo.com/story//nm/20080820/hl_nm/back_pain_dc
I saw this and was curious. My back is all jacked up. I almost never don't have neck or back twinges. Thank the gods it's never gone to full fledged pain. But I know it's going there. So I thought, if this is a non-surgical technique, I'd give it a try. So I went to my library and looted all the books on the Alexander technique (a big 4), before any other Yahoo News readers could get there. And I can tell you right now, they're probably going straight back.
I'm flipping through the pages, and even though they were over in the self-help/diet/exercise books, these apparently are actually meant for performers (actors, singers, dancers, etc.). Um, okay. Whatever. I'll give 'em a try anyway. But if actors know so much about taking care of their backs, please explain Elizabeth Taylor to me. Liz is a martyr to the backpain. Anyway. So, I'm flipping through the books and I see a couple of references to how discovering the source of your bad posture and physical habits may unearth the bad memories of what caused the bad posture in the first place. And you may need help dealing with the feelings. Urhh, wha? Um, hell no. My feelings need to stay crammed down in a little corner where they belong, thank you very much. Possibly hence the back pain. Or it could be just that I slouch a lot at my desk, and my desk chair at work was designed by the Marquis de Sade. So back to the library with that lot.
Then I looked at the book that was right next to the ones on the Alexander technique, which I just picked up because I liked the name: The Vance Stance. Very catchy. Now this one had a lot of stuff about having owl eyes in your hips that you have to keep open, and a bucket in your pelvis that you shouldn't let tip. Yeah, I didn't get it either. But what I did see was a part about how 90% of all back problems come from locking your knees. Very, very bad stuff this knee locking. Which, of course, I do.
And in fact, I know exactly when I started locking my knees. It was back in Baptist school. We'd have to stand praying with our eyes closed for 10 minutes. For a kid who is already clumsy, standing with your eyes closed is pretty hard. No visual cues. So I'd end up falling over. Which is evidently poor manners when you're praying. I remember a teacher telling me I needed to push my knees back as I was standing. And they've been locked ever since. Voila. Back pain. I'm telling you, just one more way Baptist school screwed me up.
So, now I'm trying to train myself not to lock my knees. Harder than it sounds. Because after 30-something years of doing the wrong thing, suddenly doing the right thing feels wrong. And I've looked in a mirror while I'm doing it. Standing with your knees bent looks entirely goofy. But I'm still going to try it. Nobody ever died of looking goofy. And, you never know, it might help.
I saw this and was curious. My back is all jacked up. I almost never don't have neck or back twinges. Thank the gods it's never gone to full fledged pain. But I know it's going there. So I thought, if this is a non-surgical technique, I'd give it a try. So I went to my library and looted all the books on the Alexander technique (a big 4), before any other Yahoo News readers could get there. And I can tell you right now, they're probably going straight back.
I'm flipping through the pages, and even though they were over in the self-help/diet/exercise books, these apparently are actually meant for performers (actors, singers, dancers, etc.). Um, okay. Whatever. I'll give 'em a try anyway. But if actors know so much about taking care of their backs, please explain Elizabeth Taylor to me. Liz is a martyr to the backpain. Anyway. So, I'm flipping through the books and I see a couple of references to how discovering the source of your bad posture and physical habits may unearth the bad memories of what caused the bad posture in the first place. And you may need help dealing with the feelings. Urhh, wha? Um, hell no. My feelings need to stay crammed down in a little corner where they belong, thank you very much. Possibly hence the back pain. Or it could be just that I slouch a lot at my desk, and my desk chair at work was designed by the Marquis de Sade. So back to the library with that lot.
Then I looked at the book that was right next to the ones on the Alexander technique, which I just picked up because I liked the name: The Vance Stance. Very catchy. Now this one had a lot of stuff about having owl eyes in your hips that you have to keep open, and a bucket in your pelvis that you shouldn't let tip. Yeah, I didn't get it either. But what I did see was a part about how 90% of all back problems come from locking your knees. Very, very bad stuff this knee locking. Which, of course, I do.
And in fact, I know exactly when I started locking my knees. It was back in Baptist school. We'd have to stand praying with our eyes closed for 10 minutes. For a kid who is already clumsy, standing with your eyes closed is pretty hard. No visual cues. So I'd end up falling over. Which is evidently poor manners when you're praying. I remember a teacher telling me I needed to push my knees back as I was standing. And they've been locked ever since. Voila. Back pain. I'm telling you, just one more way Baptist school screwed me up.
So, now I'm trying to train myself not to lock my knees. Harder than it sounds. Because after 30-something years of doing the wrong thing, suddenly doing the right thing feels wrong. And I've looked in a mirror while I'm doing it. Standing with your knees bent looks entirely goofy. But I'm still going to try it. Nobody ever died of looking goofy. And, you never know, it might help.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Gettin' my subversion on
http://www.time.com/time/specials/2007/article/0,28804,1703763_1703764_1810730,00.html
Dude. I am totally doing this.
Okay. Strictly speaking, this technique was designed for teenage girls. But I've got as many body issues as a 16-year old, so I think it's completely reasonable that I try this. Plus, using guerilla techniques to subvert the dominant paradigm is a personal dream of mine. I may have found a calling. And I really, really enjoyed my personal unmedia campaign against Anne Coulter Every time I saw one of her books, I'd move another book by somebody I thought she'd hate in front of her. My personal favorite was putting Anderson Cooper's book over hers. For some reason, I think Andy Boy must just torque her lug nuts. And with Bill O'Reilly's books, I'd just turn him upside down. How ya like them apples, Blow'Reilly?
Anyway. As far as social agitation for the perpetually shy and innately non-confrontational, this seems like the logical progression. I'm thinking I'm going to start something like the Post-It note gambit. I shall compose something suitably anti-beauty oligarchy, print them up on little sheets of paper, and drop them around town. I'm liking it. Okay, as far as the Forces of Anarchy go, this is pretty tame. But I'm a pretty tame gal. I'll update you as the campaign proceeds.
Dude. I am totally doing this.
Okay. Strictly speaking, this technique was designed for teenage girls. But I've got as many body issues as a 16-year old, so I think it's completely reasonable that I try this. Plus, using guerilla techniques to subvert the dominant paradigm is a personal dream of mine. I may have found a calling. And I really, really enjoyed my personal unmedia campaign against Anne Coulter Every time I saw one of her books, I'd move another book by somebody I thought she'd hate in front of her. My personal favorite was putting Anderson Cooper's book over hers. For some reason, I think Andy Boy must just torque her lug nuts. And with Bill O'Reilly's books, I'd just turn him upside down. How ya like them apples, Blow'Reilly?
Anyway. As far as social agitation for the perpetually shy and innately non-confrontational, this seems like the logical progression. I'm thinking I'm going to start something like the Post-It note gambit. I shall compose something suitably anti-beauty oligarchy, print them up on little sheets of paper, and drop them around town. I'm liking it. Okay, as far as the Forces of Anarchy go, this is pretty tame. But I'm a pretty tame gal. I'll update you as the campaign proceeds.
Well, hello, old friend
I saw it on a mannequin across a crowded Old Navy store. It was like spotting an old friend. A denim jacket.
Anybody who knew me in the late '80s and early '90s knows that the denim jacket was my fashion weapon of choice. I had the over-sized classic blue jacket, accessorized with military badges and insulting buttons ("You're ugly and your mother dresses you funny" and "who are all these tacky people?" - I was a delight as a teenager). I had the tight fit, faded black version with the sleeves flipped, and a square and an X drawn in pink ink on the inside cuff. Why? I don't know. It was the '80s. Seemed cool at the time. And from the moment it was even remotely cool enough to wear a denim jacket, and not look insane, until I risked frostbite by not giving it up, even layered with my stoutest sweater, it was plastered to my body. Did I wear it with the collar popped? I'll never tell.
But at a certain point, you have to give up your fashion obsession. Either you've worn it so much that you're sick of looking at yourself and need a change. Or so much time, and so many other fads have passed that you look like a dinosaur. Dated, honey. For me it was a combination of both. It was time to move on, and more. So I gave away my black jacket. And sewed all my travel patches to the over-sized blue one and so it could be used it for display purposes only. I was strong. I found other ways to ward off the cold. Oh, I relapsed once. I bought a bright green, shrunken cordouroy version, but it just wasn't the same. The green was an accessory. An affectation. Not like old times at all.
Then I saw it. That denim jacket. My heart stopped. I tried to walk away. But I went back the next week. I had to have it. And, yes, it is just like old times. I'd forgotten the way it feels - light, protective, beyond trends or fads. And I forgot about the way that the outside pocket forms a secret pocket on the inside. Perfect for snuggling my iPod in. And the whackadoo weather we've been having has offered coolish and damp mornings for me to wear my jacket in August without looking insane. Sleeves jauntily rolled, of course. It's like it was meant to be.
Anybody who knew me in the late '80s and early '90s knows that the denim jacket was my fashion weapon of choice. I had the over-sized classic blue jacket, accessorized with military badges and insulting buttons ("You're ugly and your mother dresses you funny" and "who are all these tacky people?" - I was a delight as a teenager). I had the tight fit, faded black version with the sleeves flipped, and a square and an X drawn in pink ink on the inside cuff. Why? I don't know. It was the '80s. Seemed cool at the time. And from the moment it was even remotely cool enough to wear a denim jacket, and not look insane, until I risked frostbite by not giving it up, even layered with my stoutest sweater, it was plastered to my body. Did I wear it with the collar popped? I'll never tell.
But at a certain point, you have to give up your fashion obsession. Either you've worn it so much that you're sick of looking at yourself and need a change. Or so much time, and so many other fads have passed that you look like a dinosaur. Dated, honey. For me it was a combination of both. It was time to move on, and more. So I gave away my black jacket. And sewed all my travel patches to the over-sized blue one and so it could be used it for display purposes only. I was strong. I found other ways to ward off the cold. Oh, I relapsed once. I bought a bright green, shrunken cordouroy version, but it just wasn't the same. The green was an accessory. An affectation. Not like old times at all.
Then I saw it. That denim jacket. My heart stopped. I tried to walk away. But I went back the next week. I had to have it. And, yes, it is just like old times. I'd forgotten the way it feels - light, protective, beyond trends or fads. And I forgot about the way that the outside pocket forms a secret pocket on the inside. Perfect for snuggling my iPod in. And the whackadoo weather we've been having has offered coolish and damp mornings for me to wear my jacket in August without looking insane. Sleeves jauntily rolled, of course. It's like it was meant to be.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
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