Convoy

So today I found myself blissfully alone in the house for a couple of hours. Though I wish I could say I spent the time wisely and efficiently, cleaning the house with the help of my bluebird and squirrel friends while whistling a merry tune, I did not. Nor would I ever consort with rodents or possess an iota of happiness while doing something like cleaning, unless there were say, percocets involved. No, what I DID do was lay around and watch the Twilight Zone, because that's just as useful as chiseling old toothpaste off the bathroom sink. And what luck! One of my favorite episodes came on before the boys came home and broke up the party. It was the one called Nick of Time and it is wonderful for a couple reasons: A). The cars are beyond cool and B). William Shatner is a PIECE in it. Did you know he was this hot? Because he is. I'd like to rock his great big convoy all through the night, hey-yo! (That was awful, I know. I apologise.)



Try not to think of him as the Shatner you know from the late 60's doing his spoken word thing before Henry Rollins stole the idea in the 90's or when he hosted VH1's 100 Greatest One Hit Wonders. Think of him as the lovely side of beef he was in 1960. And while the clothes in the episode were not too terribly impressive, my little lump of lovin' rocked a delightful tight Ban-Lon shirt, did he not?


You know what they say about boys who wear tight sweaters, don't you? My pants off to YOU, Mr. Shatner. Pants off to you.

If you or someone you know has the pectorals to pull it off, I strongly suggest this not-too-shabby version of Shatner's, available from Ballyhoo Vintage. Cheap and hot. The way I like my men.

Doin' Time For Bein' Young

Dear John Waters,

You know I love you as much as any straight white girl can. You know I think you're a film genius, right? Serial Mom= really bad and really good. Hairspray= Ricki Lake before she got all activist-y on our asses? Adore. I was willing to overlook Hairspray the movie and all it's putridicity despite ravings from the 45-64 age bracket: ("John Travolta dressed as a woman? Now that's just plain silly. What a card!"). Fool me once and all that. I may be an idiot sir, but there is one thing I am not and that sir, is an idiot. How DARE you allow such an abomination to spread it's cheese upon the masses?! The cheesy abomination which we will call Cry-Baby The Musical. Did you WANT to make sweet baby jebus cry? Because he is, crying his wee little eyes out and Christmas is cancelled this year. You know what? Hanukkah is cancelled too. Millions of kids this year will neither get their Hulk Fists of Rage nor their mini pretzel dreidels. I HOPE YOU'RE HAPPY.

I still love you though. The play is now officially done on Broadway, so perhaps not too much damage has been done. There is a way you can make it up to me, though. Tell Johnny Depp to call me and we're square. Thanks, I knew you wouldn't let me down. Let's never fight again.

That's all for now! And I swear to god, there better not be a Cecil B. Demented: The Musical Starring Donny and Marie! or it's go time.

Love and flamingos,
Kim

We're A Happy Family

The 4th is coming up soon and that means another forced-fun holiday with family, yay! Family dysfunction, here I come! On the drive from one party to another we pass a bunch of other parties going on in the neighborhood and sometimes you can catch someone yelling at their damn kids, or someone drinking a beer on the front porch and then you feel vindicated that you're not the only person on the planet who wants to run away and other families are indeed as much in need of group therapy as your own. And sometimes I have an overwhelming urge to roll down my window and yell "You suck!" as I drive by. There's probably something really wrong with that, but for now let me verbally abuse random neighbors in peace, would you?

Some good things about 4th of July festivities:

1. Twilight Zone Marathon! Did you know there was one this weekend? Because I was not aware of this fortunate turn of events until I saw the commercial just a minute or an hour ago, possibly a day or 2 ago, maybe even last week. I have no concept of time or memory, apparently. I could buy the TZ boxed set however it's quite literally priced at $99.99 at That Ripoff Cd And Dvd Store in the mall, you know the one with the cardboard cutouts of James Dean and Darth Vader threatening to cut you if they catch you stealing as your walk in the front door? I think 100 bucks is much better spent on say, rent (mine is late, zoinks!), Jack Daniels (perhaps the reason the rent is late?) or a bathtub full of Swedish Fish.

I like the episode where a bunch of greasers move into an old Victorian house in one of those typical 50's idyllic neighborhoods only to find out they're aliens and bad ones at that. Why would they think a group of young hoods would go unnoticed in suburbia? That's stupid. If they invaded today, they better come dressed as Prozac so they can blend in to the modern housewife's environment.

2. Eating your weight in grilled beef products that you didn't have to pay for.

3. An excellent time to re-enact an old timey 40's USO show for the old folks camped out for the day in their lawn chairs under a tree by wearing sailor pants and singing Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy. Better yet, make your kids die of embarrassment and force them to do it, because everyone knows kids love hanging out with 80 year olds all day. Or even better yet, you can wear something patriotic in the ironic and awesome way, like this supercool vintage "Archie Bunker For President" tee from Ginchygear.

It's My Party

**3 Things I Own, Total Times Used= 0**

1.) A Thigh Master
Suzanne Somers, you evil, evil she-devil. It's in a box in my basement. My thighs have gone wild and can never be tamed. Nor do I even want to LOOK at them, let alone master them.

2.) A tongue scraper. Before you go all "eew", let me say that my dentist gave it to me for free and a free ANYTHING is always good, but if I want to gag I'll do it the old fashioned way, after eating a pizza and a pint of Ben & Jerry's then try to work it off by Sweatin' To The Oldies.

3.) A vintage tee shirt that reads in glitter letters, and I quote: "Cowboys Do It Harder And Stay On Longer". Hmm. There's so much wrong with that. I *want* to be able to wear it in the funny and ironic way, being as though this is PA and there ARE no cowboys in these here parts, but I'm 31 and a bit too old to be rockin' the skanky tees. I may be sleazy, but I'm not, you know, SLEAZY.


**3 CD's I Own, Total Times Listened To= 0**

1.) "60's Dance Party~ The Sock Hop"
You know those relatives that heard you're into "old stuff" so they assume you'll love a mixed CD of the most overplayed songs in the universe? Thanks, Aunt Joanne! There's only so many times a person can hear "Wooly Bully" and "My Boyfriend's Back" before the seizures start. This CD is the Dr. Kevorkian of CD's.

2.) "The Very Best of The Beach Boys"
Good. God. Kill. Me. Now.

3.) "Bowling For Soup~ A Hangover You Don't Deserve"
In all fairness, my sister-in-law bought this for the Small Fry when he was about 4 and LOVED the song "1985", so let it be known that my hard-earned $7.99 did NOT got to buy it. I may be loser-y, but I'm not THAT loser-y. Nor am I 14.


**3 Things I Secretly Laugh At, Inside My Head, Secretly**

1.) The security guards that ride segways at the local outlet mall that think they're super fancy because they wear shirts that say "security" on the backs and talk to each other on walkie talkies, scooting around the parking lots looking for imminent danger and lawbreakers to give what-for to. Did I mention this was an OUTLET MALL?

2.) My neighbor that says "I was fumigated" when she means to say "I was fuming". What does social protocol suggest? What would Miss Manners say? Do I correct her? No! I secretly laugh at her in my head, because that's the kind of neighbor I am.

3.) The douchebag businessmen who talk about Very Important Business Matters on their hands-free cell phones while grabbing a Vitamin Water at the Quickie Mart. If their job was THAT important, shouldn't they be, I don't know, at WORK? Lame job denial, aisle 3!