Monthly Archives: March 2010

sandra bullock and jesse james, NOOOOO!

Sandra Bullock is perfect.  She is a fantastic actress, self-deprecating, hilarious and gorgeous.   Although she seemed to be completely out of her husband’s league, they were so adorable together and seemed so in love, it didn’t matter.

And still, he cheats.

WHY DO GUYS WHO LOOK LIKE THIS:

CHEAT ON WOMEN WHO LOOK LIKE THIS:

WITH WOMEN WHO LOOK LIKE THIS:

Devastating.

[Posted by Shannon]

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youtube clip of today: chatroulette improv.

You guys have heard of Chatroulette by now, right? I’m not gonna lie, I’ve been too scared/weirded out to try it, but it’s a fascinating concept. From what I understand, you just video chat with random strangers for as long as you want, and talk to, er, exhibitionists, about every other time. One day, I may be brave enough to try it and report back, but for now, enjoy this little number:

Thanks for the tip, Susnan’s Gchat status!

[Posted by Mallory]

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today is a google holiday, hooray!

Guys, I’ve had so many thoughts in my head that I’ve wanted to tell you about, but instead of telling them to you, I watch Super Size Me (ten years after the rest of the country) and fall asleep. Sorry about that. The good news is that Google Holidays keep me on track. They taunt me, saying “YOU CAN’T IGNORE ME. YOU MUST BLOG ABOUT ME.” And I oblige, because I’m not one to mess with the Google.

Google Holiday: Happy St. Patrick’s Day. As you might have suspected, Google is honoring America’s favorite excuse to day drink and wear green hats that look like beer steins. (Hypothetically speaking, of course.) Since I celebrated my St. Patty’s Day approximately three years ago up in Hoboken — and since I have “school” and “a job” — I’m taking it easy today, just cold wearing green pants and going about my day as usual.

What I was Googling: tostitos salsa ingredients. I’ve surely mentioned here before that I love salsa. If DC legalizes marriage between a human and a condiment, I’m running down to the city court with a jumbo-sized jar of Tostitos Chunky Salsa Medium. Not that I’m picky. I love almost every salsa I’ve ever tasted, and though I eat it in frightening quanties (like, say, half a jar on a pair of scrambled eggs. Did I just admit that publicly?), I figure there are worst things I could be addicted to. Like heroin, or McDonald’s. (Am I right, Morgan Spurlock?!)

But then I read this article in the NYT, and it made me feel all inauthentic for loving mass-produced American brands just as much as I love the salsa from the amazing hole-in-the-wall taco place around the corner from work (where I’m eating lunch today, HUZZAH!). This opening section, in particular, bothered me:

“Everybody here thinks they know what Mexican food is,” said Nicholas Cox, the chef at La Esquina in NoLIta. “Especially if they’re from Texas or California.” (Ed. note: Ha! So true.)

Salsa, in particular, has emerged as Mexico’s most misunderstood culinary export. In Paris, Mexican restaurants make it with minced cornichon pickles and ketchup; in Japan, with green shishito peppers and Kewpie mayonnaise; in American factories, with corn syrup and red bell peppers.

In the spirit of all things Morgan Spurlock and Food, Inc., does my salsa have CORN SYRUP in it?! If it did, I’m not sure that I would really care and/or change anything about my salsa habits, but I became determined to find out the truth. And damn, Tostitos makes it a challenge to find out what’s in their salsa. I pored over their website, Googled like a mad woman, read a few blogs, and finally discovered that Tostitos Chunky Medium Salsa is nothing but tomato puree, diced tomatoes in tomato juice, jalapeno peppers, onions, vinegar, salt, garlic powder, and natural flavor. (Thanks to Off Her Cork for answering that one for me.) And while natural flavor might be a leetle sketchy, this makes me feel okay about the fact that I ate crackers dipped in salsa for dinner last night. Or, at least, as okay as I could be with that level of pathetic-ness.

I guess what I’m trying to say here is HAPPY ST. PATRICK’S DAY! Pound some Guinnesses and listen to this song on repeat, because it’s the best:

[Posted by Mallory]

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youtube clip of today: the hmc.

This is perhaps the greatest thing I have ever seen:

It combines about a million things I love, most notably two of the largest celebrity crushes of my life. Representing my awkward tween years, Mr. Josh Hartnett, and for my awkward borderline adult years, John Krasinski. As ex-guest blogger Madeline so wisely put it in her description of this video (in wise words stolen from Ms. Liz Lemon), I want to go to there.

[Posted by Mallory]

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do you think sjp is ugly?

Nothing sparks debate like watching the red carpet coverage at the Oscars.  Ok, that might not be entirely true, but it does start some interesting conversations.  This year?  How ugly Sarah Jessica Parker is.

Girls love her for the obvious reasons, and apparently guys think she’s hideous.  In fact, I was told that she gets a 3 on a 10 point scale and a 0 on a 1 point scale (1 I would sleep with her, 0 I wouldn’t).

I was also shown this website, sarahjessicaparkerlookslikeahorse.com

Equal parts terrible and hilarious, so I wanted to share.

[Posted by Shannon]

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today is a google holiday, hooray!

Today’s Google Holiday: Anthony Vivaldi’s birthday. He would have been 332! You know our boy Vivaldi for The Four Seasons (WALSH!) and his striking good looks:

His Wikipedia page has this interesting opening paragraph about his childhood:

Antonio Lucio Vivaldi was born in Venice, the capital of the Republic of Venice in 1678. He was baptized immediately after his birth at his home by the midwife, which led to the belief that his life was somehow in danger. Though not known for certain, the immediate baptism was most likely due either to his poor health or to an earthquake that shook the city that day. In the trauma of the earthquake, Vivaldi’s mother may have dedicated him to the priesthood. Vivaldi’s official church baptism (the rites that remained other than the baptism itself) did not take place until two months later. Cool!!

Cool!! indeed. (Wikipedia’s editors clearly aren’t doing their job.)

What I was Googling: jcrew rose vines romper. And here’s why:

[Source]

See now, that doesn’t count as clothes. J.Crew tells us to “think poolside parties and chic beach soirees” and to pair “this fashion-forward silhouette with an extra-long cardigan and loads of accessories.” Now, I’m all for wacky fashion, J.Crew, and even rompers, when done well. But this is just a swimsuit that you can’t swim in. I’m having a hard time wrapping my mind around it, because I can’t imagine a time when you’d be at a “chic beach soiree” (I already have like eight of those on my calendar for the summer) or a pool party and wouldn’t want to be wearing either a swimsuit or some form of clothes. I just had this conversation with my coworker, who happens to work at J.Crew, after I showed her this “romper”:

Her: Cute! That’s a swimsuit, right?

Me: NO! It’s a ROMPER.

Her: Oh god, nevermind. Did you see the other romper, with the pants? We got one in the store…and nuh-uh.

Here it is styled, which is even more mind-boggling:

Can someone please help me understand? Is it just a swimsuit? This website and this website seem to think so. But if it’s a swimsuit, why are they calling it a romper? I’m so confused. Hailp!

[Posted by Mallory]

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“liddy’s orange”: poem by sharon olds.

Google tells me this is Sharon Olds.

This morning on the Metro, I read the word “adolescence” in my book, and for some reason it reminded of a poem that my class read on one of the first days of AP English my senior year of high school. I love this poem, so I thought I’d share it with you: 

Liddy’s Orange 

The rind lies on the table where Liddy has left it
torn into pieces the size of petals and
curved like petals, rayed out like a
full-blown rose, one touch will make it come apart.
The lining of the rind is wet and chalky as
Devonshire cream, rich as the glaucous
lining of a boiled egg, all that protein
cupped in the rich shell. And the navel,
torn out carefully,
lies there like a fat gold
bouquet, the scar of the stem, picked out
with her nails, and still attached to the white
thorn of the central integument,
lies on the careful heap, a tool laid
down at the end of a ceremony.
All here speaks of ceremony,
the sheen of acrid juice, which is all that is
left of the flesh, the pieces lying in
profound order like natural order,
as if this simply happened, the way her
life at 13 looks like something that’s just
happening, unless you see her
standing over it, delicately clawing it open.

(“Liddy’s Orange” was published in Olds’ 1987 book The Gold Cell, but it seems to have first appeared in an August 1982 issue of The New Yorker.) 

A quick search on the Internets for some background on Sharon Olds led me (obviously) to her Wikipedia page, which included this interesting story: 

In 2005, First Lady Laura Bush invited Olds to the National Book Festival in Washington, D.C. Olds responded, declining the invitation in an open letter published in the October 10th, 2005 issue of The Nation. The letter closes, 

“So many Americans who had felt pride in our country now feel anguish and shame, for the current regime of blood, wounds and fire. I thought of the clean linens at your table, the shining knives and the flames of the candles, and I could not stomach it.”  

Get it, girl. 

Happy, er, academic Wednesday? 

[Posted by Mallory]

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