After Hours

So I went down to the Penny's to find a gold thimble. My friend, Pygar, collects thimbles and after last year's Christmas debacle, I figured I'd keep it simple. The lady at the counter directs me to the elevator, which is all old timey with an honest to god elevator operator. He's kinda cute, and I'm totally smizing at him, but he was immune to my powers [read: queerer than a three dollar bill].

He takes me to the ninth floor, which is weird, because I don't think the building had nine floors. I exit the elevator and see there is nothing on entire floor other than a couple of busted up display cases and some raggedy Joan Collins looking mannequins. I turn to leave and see the queen and the elevator has disappeared, leaving me stranded.

"I'm glad you finally made it back, Marsha," I'm startled by a voice behind me. I turn to see that it is actually Joan Collins.

"O.M.G! Joan, I'm such a big fan! I loved you in 'Empire of the Ants!' That was some fine work you did there," I exclaim. "You know, come to think of it, I haven't see you in a while, is this where you've been hiding?"

"Yes, Marsha, you know it has been. Have you enjoyed your time living among the humans?"

"What'chu talkin'bout, Joan? You been nipping Jackie's Juice again? Unless she's got a sister named Jan, I don't know who Marsha is, and I'm most certainly not her."

"Marsha, Marsha White. You've clearly forgotten who you are. But you'll remember soon enough. You're fifteen years late, it's now my turn to live among the humans."

"Gurl, you so crazy." I say with a laugh, but my smile drops when she starts in with the crazy eyes and moving toward me. "Gurl, you so crazy," the seriousness of my words reflected in the change in my tone. Just as she was about to grab me, I totally Jackie Chaned her right in the throat, causing her to lose balance and fall to the ground, where she literally split into pieces.

"Guess that many plastic surgeries will do that to a gal," I remarked to myself. Then I saw that she was wearing a pair of Prada Boots. "No sense in letting those lovelies go to waste," I thought as I pulled them off her feet.

So I didn't get Pygar his gold thimble, but whatever, I walked out of there with a posh new pair of boots. And everyone knows, bitches can't resist a pair of boots.

Open Letter to The Donut

 

Dear Donut,

Fuck You, and all of your deliciousness.

I am wise to your plan. There you are, sitting there looking so pretty, not even a week after Thanksgiving. Tempting me after those dark days. Sure Thanksgiving started out simple enough. We had a beautiful table set up. Pygar’s deep fried turkey was delicious, and Michael Jackson’s ghost made some fantastic collard greens. I of course, made my delicious white chocolate bread pudding. Trouble brewed when Angie and Brad showed up with not only their orphanage on wheels but also that kooze Gwen Stefani, who of course was wearing her beard and their kid, but also a gaggle of her Hare-Krishna Girls [or whatever they fuck they are] in tow.

It all went down when Zahara, upon immediately recognizing that there wasn’t enough bread pudding to go around, snatched the dish and scuttled underneath the table. She shoveled handfuls of bread pudding into her mouth while holding everyone at bay with the electric carving knife. Thankfully, the battery died before she could get a quarter of the way through it. While Brad wrestled her for the knife, I grabbed the dish and ran into the bathroom.  The mood of the night had changed, and there was no turning back. So I ate it… I ate it all… and it was gooooood.

I know what I did was bad, Donut, and I’m paying for it with the 5 extra pounds I put on. But don’t think that you can temp me down that dark path again. I can see that you aren’t just a plain old glaze. I know that you are a yummi Red Velvet Donut. I respect that. But I will not let you beat me... here... now... right after Thanksgiving... on the eve of December 1st... as we careen towards Christmas with pit-stops at dozens of holiday parties filled with delicious cookies and booze.

See, Donut, you just want me to be fat. You want me to feel a shame spiral of Tracy Gold proportions. But I won't let you win. I’ve got more discipline than a German Kinkster. So I am not going to eat you, and I’ll be going to the gym now. And as you sit there and grow more stale by the minute, I’ll be running off that bread pudding. And I’ll say no to those cookies that have yet to come, because I’m better than you.

So, fuck you, Donut.

Hugz,
Frau

PS. Well, one bite won’t hurt… but that’s just me showing you the power that I have over you... right?

Gobble Gobble

Getting ready for Thanksgiving Dinner! 

 

 

Pygar is deep frying the turkey as we speak and Angie and Brad are bringing mirlitons from their garden. I made bread pudding, hopefully there is enough... lord knows I ain't used to feeding 20 kids. And I certainly don't want any of Zahara's shade if she doesn't get any. That bitch can hold a grudge like a mafioso...

  

 

How Clean is Your House... ?

Who said that our current House of Representatives doesn't know what they're doing? Well you, sir or madam, should be embarrassed at how wrong you are. That's right, our right-wing nut job Republican controlled House has proven that they are, in fact, forward thinkers!

"Whatever could you be referring to, Frau?" I can hear you asking. Sure I've bugged your place, but whatever, I got the Patriot Act on my side, fuckin' Commie!

Am I talking about how they have resolved the Heathcare Problem? Nope.

Am I referring to how they have fixed the housing market saving thousands of American's from losing their homes? Pish-posh.

Maybe I talking about how they have restructured the tax burden and not only saving the disappearing middle class but providing much needed assistance to the poor? Even Better!

Our House of Representatives has decided to classify Pizza as a vegetable! HUZZAH! Insert blasts of confetti cannons here! I mean really, who doesn't love pizza? Everyone loves pizza! This fat kid loves pizza!

Now some of you hippie liberal nay-sayers may counter with the argument that the house only pushed this through because they're in the back pockets of the American Frozen Food Institute, a group who counts Schwan Food Company amongst its members, and they know pizza! They've been serving it up to schools across America since the 70's. So clearly there is no personal interest there. But I digress...

Here is why its brilliant. Now that pizza is a vegetable, I am now selling the official "Frau Bella's Pizza Seeds" [patent pending]! Guaranteed to grow fresh delicious pizza plants in your own backyard!

So this is your chance, dear reader, to get in on the ground floor. All you have to do is send me 100 bucks for the opportunity to sell these fantastic seeds! Plus the cost of the seeds of course. Here is the best part, once you sign up, all you have to do it recruit 10 more people to sell the seeds, and you can sit back and watch the money roll in! Hello, job creation!

Like I said, now is the time to get in. I am already working on new strains of the Pizza Plant. Right now we only have the "Little Caesar" Plant, but within the next week, we should have the "Papa John" and we are hoping to have the "Pizza Hut" in two months time. 

Holla'!

The Fame Monsters

The Librarian was a little confused with my request. She was a cute little ginger wearing a hand knit sweater. I knew that she could read me as being a person of intellect [she was a thinker, as indicated by the lack of a kitten on her sweater]. That's why I think my request threw her for a loop.

"Did you say wanted to check out 'Dollhouse?'" she asked.

"Yes, by the authors Kim, Khloe and Kourtney Kardashian. Its work of fiction. It tells the story of Kamille, Kassidy, and Kyle. Sisters who bond with their fame. I mean, they bond with each other, not the camera lens of the paparazzi. That would be silly!" I said matter-of-factly.

She clicked away on her computer for a second, then said, "We have two copies. They're on the new releases shelf."

"Thank goodness," I sigh with relief as I trotted over to the new release self and snatched off both copies. "I've driven to every library in the greater Los Angeles area! I'd like to check both of these out," I said as I set the books on the counter and slid them over.

"That's a little unorthodox, Miss--" she glanced at my library card, "Miss Ciccone."

"I know, but I wanted to get a copy for my much older sister, Lourdes. That way we could both read it at the same time. It's like a book club for sisters!" I chuckle vapidly.

"Oh, uhm, okay." She seemed unconvinced but went ahead and scanned the books and slid them over to me. "Enjoy."

"Oh, I--er... we will!" I said with a smile as I turned and exited.

I walked over to my car and popped the trunk. After casually tossing the two books on the growing pile, I then drove over to a secluded part of the LA riverbed that I had been using as my base camp for the past three days. It was difficult work, but it was worth it, I thought to myself as I unloaded the trunk onto the massive pile that was comprised of nearly every copy of "Dollhouse" in Southern California. I wiped the sweat from my brow and quietly reflected on the scale of my deed. Here I was, through a simple act, saving humanity.

"I know the world may never know of what I have done here, but at least I'll know. Every time somebody is looking for a book to read, I'll know that I have given them the magnificent gift of not having a Kardashian 'novel' as an option," I said aloud as I threw the match onto the gasoline soaked books. "Burn, Kuntdashian, Burn!" I chanted as I danced around the flames.

 

I began to laugh when I thought about poor old sad old Madge getting an massive overdue book fee. Then I paused for a quiet moment of reverie. If only I had thought of this years earlier, I could have stopped that Stephanie Meyers drivel from infecting our teens and Cougar Moms. Seriously? Sparkling vampires? That's just fucking stupid...

Primal Suspect

I had the strangest conversation last night with my friend Helen [Helen Mirren for those of you who aren't in the know, Dame Helen Mirren for you Brits. We met on the set of Caligula. I was young and naïve at the time, but I'll tell you, if Polanski had edited that film, my scene would have never been cut!].

Anywho, I rang her up because I finally watched wanted the remake of "Prime Suspect" and wanted to get her take on it.

"It's rubbish," she dismissed.

"Really? I think Maria Bello is actually pretty good. I mean, of course she's no you," I added.

"Well to be quite honest, I haven't seen it," she said, her attention was clearly focused on something else.

"What are you doing? Polishing your Oscar?" I chuckled. Okay it was a bit of a forced chuckle, cut a bitch some slack, it was late and I wasn't quite on my game but felt like I needed to say something mildly humorous. I tell you what, it would have went over well with the "Two and a half Men" crowd, they're a less discerning crowd.

"Well," she started, "I have this great business idea! It's gonna be worth a million!"

"What is it this time," I asked. I swear, this bitch is always has some "money making" plot in motion, must be that Russian blood in her. I mean it, if you ever want a great capitalist idea, ask a Red! No joke!

"So, the most successful ideas are always ones that fill a void in the market. That's the key, right? Finding the void and telling people they need to fill it. Total capitalism 101, right?"

"Uh, huh," I say, already bored to tears. I really just wanted to talk about the fall TV line-up.

"One of the most profitable industries is the porn industry, and I've found the perfect void to fill!"

"Oh do tell!" I perked up, glazing over the opportunity to make a crack about filling a void. Besides, you know how much a bitch likes to talk about nasty stuff. I couldn't wait to hear what kinda freaky shit she was getting into, because what can't you find out there on the interwebs?

"So I've started making porno" she said matter-of-factly.

"Really?" I said, a bit confused. Not to slag on Helen, she is super foxy, but they already have old lady porn. This wasn't really supplying to a non-existent demand.

"Yes! I'm making pornography for asexuals!"

I was speechless and not to mention super confused. She wanted me to check out the beta website while she had me on the phone.

"OH, yes, I see," I said after I pulled up the link.

 

"So what you've done here is just pasted your picture over images in the JCPenny catalog," I observed.

"Genius isn't it!?!" her voice glowing. "I've already got 360 people signed up for twenty bucks a month, with automatic billing! And we're not even out of the beta phase yet!"

"WOW, that's fantastic! So, how can I get in on this action!?!" I asked, genuinely excited. She began to laugh, and I chuckled a little. Then I dropped my voice to a serious tone. "No, really, I want in," I said, but she just kept on laughing. I guess that answered that.

Pretty Princess

So yesterday was a beautiful day, and I figured I would take a little walk, you know, say goodbye to summer and hello to autumn and what not... that, and my ass was hurting from sitting all day long. I swear, those timeshare people are hard sellers! Of course I didn't buy one, what bitch can afford a damned timeshare in this day and age. Man, they really made me work for that free trip! Sure I was trapped there for five hours sitting in a stale non-airconditioned room, but when my ass is on Catalina Island, I'll be the one having the last laugh!

So a bitch really needed to work her stems a little bit, you know, walk it out. Anywho, I'm enjoying a nice stroll around my neighborhood when I am shocked beyond belief. Standing there, on the corner, right in front of the school, is a little midget hooker!

"Just what do you think you are doing here?" I demand as I immediately stride over.

"I'm waiting for my daddy." she answered, clearly a little put off by my directness.

"Look sister, you ain't gonna find your 'daddy' here," I said, making little air quotes when I said "daddy" to emphasize my sarcasm. "This is a classy neighborhood, and I pay through the nose to live here so I don't have to look at trash like you."

"I'm not trash, my daddy has my crown," she said in a childlike voice.

"I don't care what kind of sick sex games you have going on with your--well let's just call a spade a spade--with your PIMP!" I spit out, "But we don't want your kind of business here you filthy little freak!"

"I'm a living doll--"

"Shut your sluthole!" I said and slapped her face. Of course she started to cry like a little bitch whore. Clearly she was new to this game because she wasn't quite yet calloused and dead inside like I assume most ladies of the night are. I sighed my contempt just as a rotund woman with too much blue eye shadow waddled over.

 

"What's going on here?!" Blue-Eye Shadow demand, putting her arms around the little tart.

"Oh, so you must be the "Madame" then. Well, I was just learnin' this tramp a lesson." I said to her, then looked back to the midget. "That's right, Whoreface, I'm talking about you!"

"How dare you talk to my daughter like that! She's only six years old! We just won the 'Lil' Miss Sugar Pincess' Pageant!" bellowed Blue-Eye Shadow.

"'We?' You got a mouse in your pocket? I doubt you won the 'Lil' Miss Sugar' anything, unless it was a sugar pie eating contest. Why is a six year old standing on the corner here dressed like Julia Robert's in Pretty Woman?"

The woman scoffed, "My husband is pulling the car around, and when he gets here, I'll be calling the police on you for assaulting my daughter!"

"Oh geez," I said in a soft voice, kneeling down in front of the little girl. "I'm so sorry that your momma thought it was right to dress you like a prostitute. I should really be calling social services, and I am really sorry that--WHITE DIAMONDS" I screamed as I leapt up, throwing a handful of dirt right into that blue eye shadow, then I ran like a whore who just got caught skimming from her pimp.

As I ran, I thought about calling social services, but really, we probably didn't need to involve the authorities at this point... right? Tit-for-tat?

Spot of tea?

I had heard that the McRib was back, so naturally, like any red blooded American, I rushed down to my local Golden Arches! I got five sandwiches to go, I try to keep two in the freezer for those dark days when there is nary a Rollo McFlurry on the menu, but really, who am I kidding, I'll have eaten these suckers by the end of the night before falling into a sodium induced coma. I was about to leave, when I spied a birthday party over at the PlayPlace. So of course I saunter on over. Bitch could go for a free piece of cake to go with her McRib!

"Madge," I say, trying to mask my contempt.

"Good Day, Gov-nah!" Madonna replied.

"Oh," I pause, slightly shocked, "so we're still doing that then?"

"Chip chip, cheerio!" she said, her accent worse than Dick Van Dyke's in Mary Poppins.

"Indeed. So uhm, Happy Birthday!" I manage to say, handing her a bag of extra BBQ Sauce, lord knows I wasn't gonna part with a sandwich. "So how old are you today?"

"Thir'y Five." She answers, dead serious. Not even the affected Gwyneth Paltrow sitting in the corner could hold back a smirk.

"Thirty five!" I laugh. "Those fake ass cheekbones in your face are older than thirty five!

"Lorrie lift torch spanner!"

"Huh?" I ask, totally lost by the turn in conversation, and thus completely uninterested. "So, yeah, happy thirty-fifth. How's about a piece of that cake?"

"Good'ay mate!" she said with a scowl as she looked at me, then to the door.

"Oh my god. You are an Idiot." I said turning to walk out, but before leaving I turned and pushed her stupid cake to the floor and spit on it.

As I was driving home in a McRib high, I was feeling pretty good about myself, but then had the realization that it's not like damned Skeletor was going eat that cake anyway. So I started to feel bad for wasting a perfectly delicious cake, but then realized that at least Paltrow wasn't going to get any of it... and I started to laugh uncontrollably... I swear, those McRibs always give me the giggles!

...I'm in hot Matzo Ball Soup now...

Lordy Lou, have you ever done something that has left you completely mortified and embarrassed? Well, I can tell you, this has never happened to me, but after what happened to me this morning, I can sort of imagine the complex range of emotions that would go along with something like that...

Picture it, Santa Monica Blvd, July 29th, 2011. I was cruzin' down the street in my six-fo' when I rolled up on some cute boy in an Audi that had a little German flag on the antenna. Now, as you may know, ole Frau [that me... sometimes I speak in the third person, not often, but this is an instance where I just did and I just wanted to make that clear so as to not confuse you] is of partial Deutsch [that’s German for "German"] descent, and I wanted to express a little U.N.I.T.Y. but really wanted to tell this cutie that I liked his flag/car/hair... you know...

Just as I go to roll down the window the light changes and traffic starts to move again. So we're keeping pace with each other and he glances over and smiles and so I give him a thumbs up and point at the little flag on his antenna. But he looks confused and doesn't make the connection to what I am pointing at, so I try and make the connection with a gesture, so the best thing I could come up with was to extend my right arm and hand essentially give him the Nazi Salute. I really should have put a little thought into that because his jaw dropped and he quickly turned at the next intersection [I like to think that he was going to turn there anyway... regardless of the fact that he cut off a tour bus].

Now this cute little German boy totally thinks I'm Anti-Semitic, which totally is the furthest thing from the truth! I love the Jews! I mean without the Jews, who would produce all of the films and television shows that I love?!? Just a quick aside, I am still searching for a producer for my feature length film "Fraubarella"... just thought I would throw that out there... but I digress... I damn near have a stool in the Kibitz Room named after me... hell, I could be a little Jewie--and I'm not talkin' cheap--I could totally have some Jewish ancestry, there are German-Jews...

Anywho... long story short... we need to come up with a universal hand gesture that says "Hey cute German boy" that wasn't also shared by the Hitler Youth. On a side note, anyone know if I crash somebody's Shabbat tonight, you know, do some karmic adjustment... I'll bring the Manischewitz...!

Carmageddon

I was talking to my BFF Angie on the phone yesterday, she had just seen the new Harry Potter with her harem of children [do you think a bitch could get an invitation to a movie... whatever that it was in London... anywho...].

"So then, flash forward and Harry and Ginny are dropping off their kids at the Hogwarts Express, and they bump into Ron and Hermione dropping off their kids. It was beautiful, so many children!" Angie was going on.

"Uhm, hello spoiler alert!" I chime in.

"Oh, sorry Frau, I thought you'd see it already."

"Guess I don't now, besides sounds like a totally daft ending."

"Whats going on?" Angie asked. "You sound sour."

"Yeah, I'm just still annoyed. I was going to the Valley this weekend, and there I was, stuck in traffic for five hours! I knew it was going to be a bitch, what with 'Carmageddon' and all--"

"--but that--" she tried to interrupt, but I just kept going, I had to listen to the play by play of stupid Harry Potter, bitch can sit and listen for a minute.

"--so I had grabbed a Big Gulp of D.P. in preparation for the long drive, but ended up sucking that down in the first hour. So naturally, I really had to tinkle. I tried to hold it until I got to the next exit, but after and hour and a half went by, I just couldn't hold it anymore. So I threw the car in park and popped out to water the ice plant on the side of the freeway. When I was walking back to the car there was this yellow Mazda trying to creep around. 'Never too late to be bittersweet!' I screamed, and in a quick action I pulled out my pearl handled Beretta and pointed it at the driver, who could instantaneously respect that I was totally channeling some full on Thunderdome shit with my big ass Tina Turner earrings and immediately stopped. Nobody fucks with Aunty Entity. Caught in the moment, I leapt onto the hood of my car and started shooting wildly into the air. I don't know why I always have to start waving a gun in the air to get people to move the funk outta the way, but I'll be damned if I didn't have a path cleared in less than 30 seconds. So anywho, I figured that took about an hour off my commute. Fucking Carmageddon."



"You do know that Carmageddon was the weekend before last, don't you?"

"Huh?"

"Yeah, it was the biggest 'Non-Story' of the week. The freeways were actually completely clear. There wasn't even a little traffic."

"So then, I was..." I trailed off.

"Yeah, just stuck in normal LA traffic."

"Goddman it. LA, you can be such a dick sometimes." I said with a exasperated sigh. "Oh well, at least I don't have to deal with it next weekend, I'm going down to San Diego for the Comic-Con, that should be fun! I gotta go hon, my Catwoman costume isn't going sew itself!"

Weinergate

I had just wrapped my hair and was almost ready for bed when my phone pinged with a message. Naturally, I grabbed my phone, I had been waiting to hear back about the screen test for the Wonder Woman pilot I did. I had some great ideas about the costume too, I just know that people are gonna love it. Anywho, so I check the message, which was sadly wasn't a call back, it was a picture tweet from my friend Pygar. Needless to say, when I saw the picture I was shocked [and, well, a little impressed].

I quickly dialed him up. "What the hell, Pygar?" I asked after he picked up his phone. "Whats with the bugle-o-gram?"

"My Twitter account was hacked, and somebody sent that picture to everyone in my address book," he said in his calm cool voice.

"Oh so that isn't you?" I tried to mask my disappointment, not that anything ever happened between us, but hey, a gal was suddenly giving some thought on the subject.

"No, not at all."

"So then why haven't you sent out a follow up tweet saying that it wasn't you and that your account was hacked?" I asked. He got quiet for a moment. Then it all clicked. "OH, I get it--"

"I mean--" he tried to interrupt.

"--who cares if people think you are blanket sexting the interweb, as long as they walk away with the impression that you are hung like a Andalusian donkey."

"Really, what's the crime here?"

"I have a feeling you aren't thinking this through. You don't know women like I do, and I don't mean that in a Scissor Kisses kinda way." I said when my other line beeped. "Anywho, I gotta go, I've got another call." I clicked to the other line and started to say, "Hell--" when I was cut off by an anxious sounding woman.

"Hey, you hang out with Pygar, right? Is he dating anyone? Can you arrange a meet up for a sister?"

"Who the hell is this?"

"Chelsea."

"Who?"

"Chelsea Handler."

"Who?"

"I--" she started.

"I'm sorry, Mrs 'what-ever-you-said-your-name-was,' how did you get this number?" I asked as my other line beeped again. "Oh hold on, I've got another call." I clicked to the other line, "Hello?"

"Hey, is this Frau? This is Snookie, I hear you are good friends with Pygar the Angel, can you tell him--"

"Lordy Lou!" I exclaimed, before hanging up on both of them and shutting off my phone for the rest of the night.

This morning, when I turned my phone back on, I dismayed at how many messages I had!

I haven't had this many messages since I flashed my panties on the red carpet [so what if they were crotchless... the Kids Choice Awards needed a little spicing up anyway... its only in the past few weeks those damned Jonas Brothers have finally stopped calling]. Anywho, I was a little bummed when not a single one of the messages this morning was for me... why bitches gotta be callin' me?!

... just an FYI...

Kill Kill Kill... Ma Ma Ma...

I was driving through the canyon on my way to an audition [because that's what we do in LA], the sky a beautiful blue and RuPaul's Glamazon pumpin' through the speakers. It couldn't be more perfect. The stars were aligned and Fortuna's Wheel was finally spinning in my direction! I had scored an audition to be in the pilot episode of the new Wonder Woman, I was totally excited because this show is going to be huge come the fall season... HUGE I tell you!

Then I noticed a black SUV careening all over the road and headed straight for me. I jerked the wheel to the right in order to avoid a collision and plowed into a ditch only to have the oncoming SUV veer further towards my direction. That’s when Fortuna's Wheel took a hard left as the SUV clipped my car.

I got out just in time to see the SUV roll three times. The back popped open just before it came to a stop, spilling Asian beauty queens all over the road. I ran over the SUV just as Connie Chung and Maury Povich were pulling themselves from the wreckage.

"Way to enforce the stereotype, Connie!" I said.

"What? Because I'm a woman, I can't drive?" she sneered.

"No, because--"

"--what? Because I'm Asian, I can't drive?" she interrupted.

"No--"

"--what? Because I'm old, I can't drive?" she interrupted again.

"Yeah, that’s the one."

Maury tried to say something but for some reason had a ball gag in his mouth.

"Maury wants you to guess which one of the ladies is really a man." Connie interpreted from Maury's grunts. Maury shook his head, as if trying to say something else. Connie narrowed her eyes at him, and he then seemed to concede to what she had said.

I paused for a moment, reflecting on the pageant queens as they smiled and batted their eyelashes. I was about to make my decision when I heard the wail of sirens off in the distance.

"Shit, it’s the fuzz! Let’s go Maury!" Connie demanded. He stood his ground and shook his head. Connie then pulled a small revolver out of her purse and pointed it at Maury's head. "MAU! MAU! DIDI MAU!"



Maury began to weep as he ushered the Asian pageant queens into the surrounding woods followed closely by Connie. They had disappeared into the shadows just as the police pulled up.

"Ma'am, we're looking for a couple who are wanted for human trafficking. They were travelling with a group of Asian men. Have you seen anything strange?" the officer asked. I was shocked with disbelief as I silently pointed in the direction that Connie and Maury had fled. My world had officially been turned upside down, and not in the fun Diana Ross kinda way. Boy you turn me, I just couldn't believe that all of those beauty queens were men!

"They're on their way to the old Crystal Lake camp grounds," the officer said into his radio, then he turned to me and asked, "Are you okay ma'am?" After a beat, I was able to regain a little composure.

"I thought 'Chung' was a Chinese name..."

A Grave Situation

I went to Target the other day, since Lady Gaga has made it okay for me to shop there now--and that is the last I will hear of it--the LAST, got it! You don't know how much I love and miss my Target, and from here on out I will be taking the "ignorance is bliss" approach to it. One might say I'm actively "Sarah Palin-ing"--granted "ignorance" would be too generous of a word to use in the context of that idiot savant [sans the savant].

But I digress. So I spied [with my little eye] some chip clips designed by Michael Graves on the discount end cap [what a score, right?]. So, naturally I snatch them up like a Lohan in a jewelry store [well except that I actually paid for them]! When I get home, I notice that there is actually a picture of Mr. Graves on the back of the packaging.

Now in my mind, I have always pictured him as looking like a ruggedly handsome man's man. After all, its a fact that all designers look a bit like Ben Cohen. They frolic gracefully in sunbeams of divine inspiration... and then he takes my hand, kisses it gently, and guides me gently to his--




Er, sorry, where was I... ? Oh yeah, Michael Graves. So yeah, this picture they've used on this famous designers packaging is quite possible the worst picture they could have picked!



What the hell is up with that eye!?! Is he channeling Forest Whitaker? I don't know where he is looking! Seriously, couldn't they have just gone with a simple profile shot? Hell, photoshop that eye in place for fucksake, you are a designer after all! An architect, sure, but whatever, you could handle it! But then again, maybe that's why he's so successful, he's can see the bigger picture--you know--literally, since his field of view is so much larger... just a thought... hmmm... I wonder if there are any rugby games on...