Wednesday, April 25, 2007

Clueless "R" I.

My cousin's baby shower is coming up and I've been meaning to stop by a Babies "R" Us, to pick out a gift. Only every time I thought of doing this I became overwhelmed. I'm terrible at picking out gifts for people. And these are people I know. Grown people who can talk and have interests. How do I shop for a newborn? Do infants have hobbies straight out the womb? Is pooping a hobby? An entire level of Babies "R" Us says it is.

Sabrina told me that there were no Babies "R" Us stores in the city so you can imagine my surprise when I saw one whilst walking around Union Square. (I think I'm the first person to ever say, "*%$# YES! Babies R US!") I walked into the store and printed out my cousin's registry, but because I was obviously the last person to buy a gift, the only things left on the list were pacifiers and random cloths. Can we discuss the "cloths" for babies? Is this Capitalism's biggest joke? Burp cloths,wash cloths, cleansing cloths, cloth diapers, and all things terry. And then, to make us feel even dumber for purchasing the same piece of fabric priced differently because some genius at Gerber or Koala Baby gave it a different name, all the cloths are just about the same size as the blankets, receiving or warming, or what have you.

So standing with an arm full of cloths, growing slightly steamed that I was being made a fool of, I kept referring back to the registry to ensure that there was actually a need for these things. I must have had a pained look of confusion on my face because a sales woman approached me.

-Can I help you?
-Um, I think I'm good, thanks.
-Are you shopping for a friend, or?
(Note to self: Stop eating)
-For my cousin's shower.
-Oh, those warming blankets are great.
(Yea? Well I'm glad it was one of 5 things left that this printed list told me to buy.)
-Can I ask you? Is there really a big difference between the function of a warming blanket and say, a burp cloth? I mean, couldn't you basically wipe a baby down or wrap it up with any of these things?

Note to reader: NEVER EVER say that in Babies "R" Us.

The woman gave me a look that told me I was a total ass. I tried to smile it off but she wasn't having it. I walked away to find a unisex pacifier, and left.

Tuesday, April 17, 2007

um, hilarious.

Erik (of Gwen Stefani forgery notoriety) sent me this text last night when I landed in NY.

Ball-busting knows no geographic limitation.

Tuesday, April 10, 2007

This Might Fit.

I'm not a great packer. Never have been. I try to subscribe to the rule that you shouldn't pack more than you can sprint with. That if you can't start running with your bags at a moment's notice, you've packed too much.

I took this rule to heart after traveling with Allison, one of my roommates in London. On a trip to Germany, she had obviously packed too much. Cd's IN their cases (who does that?!) snacks, clothes, books, basically everything she owned for a 4-day vacay. So much stuff in fact, that she needed about 9 plastic bags to hold the overflow. Seriously. So cut to the end of our trip. The plastic bags were nearly doubled thanks to all the crap she bought and she stared at everything in the hotel lobby wondering how she might make it to the train. We told her to throw most of it away but she refused, so we offered her a head start and she left 20 minutes before us. I know what you're thinking, that it was mean of us not to help. Whatever. 4 of the bags she refused to throw away were groceries from London. I wasn't about to carry 25 lbs of crisps and her entire music library to a train, I just wasn't. After a leisurely breakfast, Jackie, Robin and I happily threw our backpacks on our shoulders and walked to the train station.

About a mile down the road we saw Allison dragging her luggage, holding 3 large bags and (I need to tell you, this is one hundred percent true) kicking all the rest of her things down the street. All of the plastic bags had ripped, and yet, she still didn't get the hint that perhaps it was too much.

I mention this story only because I've felt a bit like Allison in the past few days. I'm packing up to head back to New York and it's forcing me to evaluate what I really need. It's hard to send the contents of your life across the country. The airline says 2 bags but your life says, what, are you kidding me? I don't want to keep taking junk with me coast to coast but it's hard to part with old t-shirts and pants I have no intention of ever wearing again. Every item of clothing is subjected to the test.
Q: When was the last time you wore this sweater?
A: 2002.
Q: Why are you keeping these pants?
A: Well, I might make them into shorts.
Q: Then why are you keeping all these shorts?
A: Well, I might make those into a blanket.

I kept all of my MUNI passes for 3 years thinking that I was going to do something artistic with them but I never came up with anything. Of course, now that they're gone I think they would have made a sweet pair of shorts. I've saved all the letters I've received (yay pen pals!) while I was out here but those are heavy and have forced me to throw out classic old shirts. People, we have too much crap. Or, I have too much crap. I've had Erykah Badu's "Bag Lady" on repeat while packing to remind me of Allison and force me to cut ties with my favorite useless things.

Truly, I want to throw everything away. The packing is driving me nuts. Speaking of which, can we discuss the Styrofoam peanut for a minute? The Styrofoam peanut is bubble wrap's evil twin. Bubble wrap is sleek, and fun, and practical. Everyone loves bubble wrap. No one likes the nut. The Styrofoam peanut is impossible to arrange once in a box--think trying to shovel a hole in the sand right where the waves hit. Just when you think you have a little space in the box, all the peanuts fall over filling it up. I was actually screaming at a box this morning. I'm not proud of it. Wars should not involve bombs or guns. Planes should simply drop tons of Styrofoam peanuts over cities forcing the bad guys to dig out of it.

So I've been looking at everything I own and thinking about it in terms of shipping costs. Yes, I love that jacket, but it's going to put this bag over the 50 lb mark. Leave the gun, take the cannoli. Or rather, toss the wool, pack the chiffon.

Ha. The idea of me owning chiffon anything made me laugh.

Monday, April 09, 2007

I'd Hate To See The Old Day.

I just read that Celine Dion's Vegas show, "Celine Dion: A New Day," will end it's run at Caesar's Palace in December. The show has been going on for over 4 years and while I haven't seen it, I'll bet you my uterus each show ends with "My heart will go on."
Perhaps more impressive than the ticket sales (over 90% of seats sold at each performance) and far more interesting than Ms. Dion's stamina (she's a robot, everyone knows that, right?) is the fact that there wasn't a repeat episode of Jonestown among the employees at the Coliseum.

The show's creator, Franco Dragone (best name ever) said the performances have varied over the years and that the last show in December will be much different than the opening show years ago.

Sidebar, your honor.
-Celine Dion still sings Celine Dion songs at these shows, correct?
-Well, yes.
-Then I don't care how you spin it Dragon, it's the same day. It's like the worst version of Groundhog Day, with 45 costume changes and heartfelt talks given by Dion to the audience as she flies around on swings.

"You know people-- (rises into air). Whoa! What ees dis that is happening to me? (Flies from one side of the stage to the other). You know, growing up in Canada I used to fly around my house at night because there was no where on the floor to sleep. I have 36 brothers and sisters (Flies into a giant bubble). Hey! Look at me in this bubble! This reminds me of a song. Can I sing dee song for you people? It's called, 'My heart will go on.' It's from a little movie about a boat. I hope you like it."

And while the flying, the bubble, and the song were the essence of the show, it was a New Day, everyday. For $600 a ticket, people could get a sneak preview of Hell.

That's a tough act to follow. The Coliseum, the arena Caesar's built for the show, cost almost $100 million. They'll need to find an artist come December who can:
A) Fill those seats
B) Act semi-human despite actual robot/alien status
C) Keep that Hell on Earth vibe fresh

Michael Bolton comes to mind but even Vegas has standards. My money is on Clay Aiken filling the spot. The show will be called, "Clay Aiken: A Thousand Different Ways" and it will be done the same way every night for 5-years.
You owe me a dollar if it happens

Wednesday, April 04, 2007

I'm Sorry.

Did anyone see that sign a fan held up on Idol last night? It said, "Sanjaya is my Papaya."

In related news, REM front man Michael Stipe has been contacted to rewrite the lyrics for "It's the End of The World."