July 31, 2008

-image-i want to stay here please

Ooh, look at this! It’s the Utter Inn — located in Sweden on Lake Malaren. This is just the charming little top half of your accommodations:

Totally makes me think of Grandpa Potts’ hut in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang:

Oh the posh posh traveling life!
the traveling life for me
first cabin and captain’s table
regal company!

But — there’s more to this tiny floating cabin. Oh, yes, sirree-bob! Because …. you can sleep with the fishes. (And not be dead.)

Click on that link above and check out the pictures to see what I mean! So awesome.

Port out!
starboard home!
posh with a capital P-O-S-H
P-O-S-H, P-O-S-H …

July 30, 2008

-image-Protected: hope is the thing

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July 29, 2008


It was either a picture of my blue-and-purple sausage pinkie or this utterly gorgeous dress from Anna Maria Horner. After some soul searching — and hitting the pinkie AGAIN (I don’t wanna talk about it) — I decided on the dress:


Hm. I notice you can’t see the model’s fingers. I wonder if she has sausage pinkie too.

Still …. the sheer beauty of this dress actually makes me glad it’s summer. Momentarily.

-image-coffee imbroglio

Lisa sent me this link to a recent big brouhaha at a DC coffeehouse. I mean, The Washington Post got involved, for pete’s sake! Follow that first link. From there, you can click around to hear the other side of the story. (There’s profanity in the link — just a heads up.) The whole thing is crazy. Crazy interesting, but crazy.

So …. which side do you come down on? Any thoughts?

(Thanks, Lisa, for sending it to me — twice, no less!)

July 28, 2008

-image-a rare breed

Okay. This is so cool. A whole photo blog dedicated to redheads. I went redhead for about … oh, lemme think … about 4 years? I think? I loved it. I had the most amazing colorist. He was so good, people just assumed I was naturally a redhead. Nope. Just rockin’ this soft apricoty red that I did nothing to earn. Went in as a blonde, lounged in a chair and read magazines for 2 hours, plunked down my moola, and left a soft apricoty redhead.

Thought you would enjoy it. I know a couple of redheads who read this blog. 😉

Let’s hear it for the redheads!

July 27, 2008

-image-blogging pinkie injured

Early Sunday morning, a right-hand pinkie was crushed in a heroic effort to stop a falling laptop. The lucky laptop, saved from certain death, is resting comfortably. The brave little sausage, however, was less lucky. Now purple and swollen and grumpy, the wee phalange is currently being treated with ice and …. well, really just ice. Moaning and Whining, Pinkie’s faithful companions, never leave her side, dutifully chiming “oh poor baby” at appropriate caring intervals. Various opioids are being discussed as a treatment option.


Blogging could be slow, light, and messy until … I dunno …. until I stop making such a stinkin’ fuss about the whole dealio, probably.

July 24, 2008

-image-gloria in the nighttime


July 23, 2008

-image-zumba, tobi, and tubers

So MB was gone last weekend and when that happens, I kind of pine away, all Rapunzelly in my tower. I become slothful and listless and eat weird random things like yams. On top of that, I become highly susceptible to the hypnotic truthiness of infomercials. Maybe it’s the yams that do it. Which, if true, would be deeply disappointing because they’re supposed to be good for you as long as you don’t eat too many of them and turn orange much like the QT girls of yore. (Unless that’s just carrots. And not really true.) Well, regardless, I really don’t like the idea of my tubers ganging up on me. So, whether tuber collusion or no, over the course of the weekend, I found myself comatose in front of the TV for a total of 4, IV, FOUR infomercials. And it’s not like I seek them out. I don’t. I really truly don’t. It has to be the tubers. Damn you, tasty tubers.

Now, because I know you all rely on me for up-to-the-minute information, I feel it’s my duty to impart my newly gained infomercial knowledge with you. Even though this happened 4 days ago.

The Tobi Steamer: Oooh. It’s a portable steamer. No more ironing, ever; they promise. I learned my entire world will become smooth and crisp and fresh, much like Martha Stewart’s before the rap sheet. Oh, I think it does windows too. And carpets. And your face.

Zumba!: A bunch of people with magic Zumba sticks shaking their hips all the way to rock-hard abs and bods. It’s all very hypnotic. I learned that it’s really true that hips don’t lie. Quite the contrary. They are honest and loyal and hardworking. Very very hardworking.

Sheer Cover Makeup: Leeza Gibbons’ line of mineral makeup. Here, I learned that the twin who put on the Sheer Cover and went for a 5-mile run — in full makeup like we all do — looked better than the twin who put on other lesser makeup and also went for a 5-mile run. She was sweaty and streaky. The other twin was perfect and glowing. Good job, Leeza. Stirring the turd of sibling rivalry on national TV — all to line your pretty little pockets. There’s no covering that.

Meaningful Beauty: Cindy Crawford’s skincare line. I learned that beauty can be meaningful and cheap at the same time. But if the kit doesn’t include a temporary magic mole, it don’t mean squat, does it?

Now, lest you think otherwise, I didn’t order any of these things. Nope, not a one. The tubers don’t hold that much power over me, I guess. I’m susceptible to the truthiness, but not overcome by the truthiness. And just because these websites are now in my Bookmarks doesn’t imply a thing about any future relationship I may have with Tobi or Zumba or Leeza or Cindy. Not a thing.

Sometimes I just sit and eat yams and hanker is all.

July 22, 2008

-image-so cool

I’m adding a blog called The Selby to Thee Olde Blogrolle. It’s a fabulous photo blog of cool, funky people and their homes. I’m loving it. Because I’m a voyeur, basically. Aren’t we all? I love seeing how other people live, where they live, what they do with the space. Go check it out!

-image-nutjob killer housed here

MB had to journey up to the deep dark middle of nowhere this past weekend. To get there, you must drive through this teeny tiny town and see this — the largest building in town — the courthouse where Charles Manson was briefly incarcerated after his arrest. You can’t miss it. You drive right past it. And then you’re out of that town, basically. We always look at it and go “Eeek!” or “Owww!” or “Aaaah!” or “Helter Skelter!” or “You’re not gettin’ me, psycho nutjob!”

You know, something appropriate to the weighty horror of it all.
On a cheerier note: Look at the color of that sky. And with a cell phone no less! Aaaah!

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