no risk it no biscuit.

Photo

Tue, 12 Feb 2013 15:59:00 -0500

I wish it was too. whatthekidsareinto: I Wish it was Christmas...

Tue, 04 Dec 2012 10:33:27 -0500

I Wish it was Christmas Today by Julian Casablancas

The way it usually works is that SNL parodies real songs, but in this case Strokes frontman Julian Casablancas took a song first heard on SNL and turned it into a rocking holiday tune.

I don’t care what the neighbors say
Christmas time is near
I don’t care what anyone says
Christmas is full of cheer
All I know is that Santa’s sleigh
Is makin its way to the U.S.A.
I wish it was Christmas today

I wish it was Christmas today
I wish it was Christmas today, oh, oh
I wish it was Christmas today
I wish it was Christmas today, oh, oh
All I know is that Santa Claus
Don’t care about breaking or applying laws
I wish it was, wish it was,
Wish it was, wish it was, oh

I don’t care about anything else
Christmas is almost here
And I don’t care what the news man said
Christmas is full of cheer
I don’t care about anything
Except hearing those sleigh bells a’ring-a-ding, ding
I wish it was Christmas today
In the good old U.S. of A.

I wish it was Christmas today
I wish it was Christmas today, oh, oh
I wish it was Christmas today
I wish it was Christmas today, oh, oh
I’m telling … to the boys and girls
In every nook and cranny of this crazy ass world
I want it, I want it,
I want it, I want it

18 Grams of Fat and 240 Calories

Sun, 02 Dec 2012 22:22:09 -0500

One serving of eggnog has 18 grams of fat and about one billion calories – I just drank half of a glass. It is not Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, or any other holiday. It is January 4, 2007, 1:37 a.m.

Each year before Christmas, my dad buys a half-gallon of eggnog assuming his children and grand-children will drink it up delightfully while celebrating the holiday season. As the years passed, some family members became lactose intolerant and others not able to justify drinking a glass of non-alcoholic eggnog that has 18 grams of fat and one billion calories. The guilt just isn’t worth it to them.

So, in mid-January each year, spoiled eggnog is poured down the drain. And, each year it breaks my heart. I never thought that a dairy product would affect me so much, but now I do everything I can to avoid watching my father’s efforts to make me happy go literally down the drain. I have never asked him if it bothers him that some of it is wasted and I have never asked him to buy less.

Whether it is a slight smile and shy agreement to a glass of eggnog after dinner or a glance while I shake up the carton before pouring a glass just for myself, I see satisfaction and contentment on my father’s face when he realizes that someone appreciates his half-gallon contribution.

My observations are probably exaggerated and my depth of feeling for eggnog is probably uncalled for, but I doubt it. Although my health isn’t exactly benefiting from drinking eggnog right before I go to sleep at night, running an extra mile tomorrow is a petty exchange for sparing myself and my father from subtle disappointment.

Besides, I’ve always liked eggnog.

Things I've noticed about Latin television

Sun, 02 Dec 2012 22:14:29 -0500

Carefully groomed eyebrows

Ill-fitting pants

Hair extensions

Hair gel

(Numerous hair products)

LOUD NOISES

Implants

the sweats

Fri, 26 Oct 2012 15:02:43 -0400

I was rummaging through the bookstore today after a long series of grueling meetings when a odd memory resurfaced. It is certainly a rough day when browsing through overpriced garments all of the same color and made in Sri Lanka is in any way distracting.

I remember that when I was in college, I went to the bookstore once and bought $40 sweat pants just because I hadn’t done my laundry. Wow. Things have changed. The turning point for me was shortly after college when I made a quick early morning trip to the post office in London wearing my favorite bright red sweatpants. I had probably slept in them. They may or may not have resembled the form of a 90s crinkle maxi skirt. Never again! There is nothing like a mob of cosmopolitan world citizens staring you down at a crosswalk en masse.

I now wash a load of laundry at least twice a week. I also would never wear sweat pants outside the controlled environment that I share with my understanding husband (he rarely wears pants inside at all!) and my cat, who never wears pants either. Side note: it’s a thrilling weekend for him when he gets to run around for two days naked. The cat, that is.

Creekview

Fri, 21 Sep 2012 22:10:00 -0400

Looking for apartments is a dramatic, frustrating experience. There is never enough time and certainly never enough money. If there were enough money, you wouldn’t be renting an apartment, would you?

The hopefully well known fact about apartment searching in a sprawling highway-centered city is that all the apartments are virtually the same. If you don’t know, congrats — I am here to tell you. You may have an extra square foot or two, perhaps an accent wall here or there, but essentially you are moving into a nameless, nondescript “community”. (I can’t say community in its purest sense because there is certainly nothing in the lease terms about sharing anything except a couple of walls.) You will walk into a complex’s leasing office, which is, through a tested mathematical equation, 40 to 60 percent nicer than the actual apartment you will live in. The leasing agent will, if you are lucky, tell you what a “great unit” they have available, show you a model and push a sale. If you are not lucky, you will probably wait, sitting on overstuffed couches drinking watered down Minute Maid, until a flustered leasing agent can tell you there is nothing available “in your price range.”

The unit, I should add, will smell like vanilla. There will probably be a small stereo stowed away in a closet or cabinet producing ambient music. You will be inspired for a millisecond by the beige, modest curtains, until you realize the entire contents of the apartment were purchased from The Room Store.

You will like it. Yes, you will. As much as you either secretly or openly — must you? — crave authenticity, you will like it. It will feel safe and soft and easy. You will imagine yourself taking early morning walks each day by the golf course, mixing colorful smoothies while looking over the bar across the patio covered in lush green ferns you always say you will buy and curate but never actually have. You imagine your furniture filling the places that are currently occupied by The Room Store, and forget that your dresser is actually far too big for this bedroom. You will notice the plush carpet under your feet, begging you to lie down and have a nap. You will like it.

The model looks over a “creek”. The creek is actually a drainage ditch on the edge of a floodplain on which your building was built due to some careful political maneuvering. It is mostly stagnant water, probably brimming with West Nile, with some mesquite trees along the side. Perhaps the apartment will have a nautical theme due to the water — highway-centered cities typically do not have the luxury of abundant natural rivers, lakes, or oceans, so the apartment must take what naming ability it can. Vista Ridge, South Ridge, River Oaks and Valley View have all been taken and duplicated all over the area, the newer communities must therefore work a little harder. Unexceptional apartment complex next to a drainage ditch — Edgewater Villas! Perfect!

As you look over this model, the leasing agent will tell you that you too can have this great view, for only 85 dollars more per month. Only 85 dollars for the creekview! The creekview — far superior to the parking lot view. Yes, yes it’s worth it. You — the poor, desperate, fool — accept. It will most certainly be better than where you are.

Once you have found this great unit, with its only slightly varying characteristics that don’t seem to bother you too much, you will pay an exorbitant amount of money in multiple checks and sign your life away for the next year. No, you can’t break your lease. It’s a legal document! If you were to break your lease you would suffer astronomical financial ruin and the life you had planned to leave the apartment for simply wouldn’t come to fruition due to the economic burden brought on by the simple fact you chose to leave the “community” only slightly before the master — eh, the manager — said you could.

Then comes move-in day. You will have sorted through your things, probably thrown away more than you should (I’m not that sentimental, am I? To the garbage!) and stayed up so late the night before that your body aches. You will probably have to move things yourself and with the few people who love you enough to help you move your stuff, because again, if you could afford movers, why on earth are you moving into an apartment? You will eat pizza and soda in the process, and late that night, will fall pitifully onto a naked mattress. After waking up, confused, you will probably find your way to a grocery store and start making the apartment “yours.” At least for the next 12 months.