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Tuesday, October 21, 2003

I love Jessica Simpson

I love her for taking three hours to get ready for a party. I love her for spending $750 on two pairs of underwear. But most of all, I love her for irrationally whining when camping, singing, eating buffalo wings, tuna, or even just laying there. I love her because every time The Fiancée thinks I'm being an utterly unreasonable psycho, all I have to do is simply turn on the M (MTV) and make him watch that dreadful, wonderful show.

It takes him about 2 minutes to decide I'm the greatest (almost) wife in the world.

God bless that girl. May her show never get cancelled.
Posted by The Amy @ 1:20 PM permalink | Come on...give us some sugar (2)

 Wednesday, October 15, 2003
When you speak of me, speak of me fondly

As you people are probably not aware, because well, I haven’t told you, I am taking a class. No, this is not a fun class, like yoga for pilates or pilates for yoga or whatever contortionist fitness thing is en vogue (I loved that band!) right now, this is a not as much fun class that involves things like Annuities and Beneficiaries and Preexisting Conditions.

(Damn that sentence. I’m sorry, but there’s nothing I could do. That’s just how it happened, people.)

Anyway, this class is dreadfully boring, but I have to take it to Further My Career, so I’m sucking it up. I’m halfway through at this point, and I wanted to report something to all of you in case I do not make it out alive:

My instructor is insane.

I’m telling you- the man is nuts. He looks like a cross between (and I swear I’m not making this up just to hijack all the Sutherland fan pages) Donald Sutherland and Jack Lemmon and sounds exactly like Peter Gallagher on Fox’s new hot drama, “The OC.” He is 67 years old, which I know because he always uses himself as an example when discussing the life insurance policies he has taken out on himself and the ways he has rigged it so that when he dies his wife gets nothing unless she “cleans up her act.” He has also harangued the class EVERY SINGLE DAY about how bad smoking is for you, and how it turns your lungs, in graphic detail “blacker than the coal I had to shovel when I was a boy in the Bronx.” In addition, he plans to live to age 107, at which time he expects that California will have broken off the rest of the country and be connected back up with Hawaii, where he has a nursing home all picked out.

All I know is that tomorrow we’re covering accidental death and dismemberment and if he brings in a spare limb I'm out of there. Career advancement be damned.
Posted by The Amy @ 11:37 PM permalink | Come on...give us some sugar (1)

 Tuesday, October 14, 2003
My California Adventure: Keifer and the Ass Pant Girl

I’ve lived in California for about two years now. Like most people in the Eastern 47, I got the impression that people in California practically fell over movie stars and other famous folk. Now, I know I do live outside of San Francisco, instead of the very celebrity-friendly LA, but I was at least expecting a random Robin Williams drive-by or a Danny Glover grocery visit. I mean, all those pictures in "US Weekly" have to come from somewhere, right?

Just as I am here to tell people that yes, you DO need a warm coat in San Francisco in July, I am also here to tell you that famous people are not on every corner. Unless you want to count the phone call I received from Bill Clinton the Sunday before the recall election, I have lived a completely celebrity-free California existence.

Until now.

Over the weekend, The Boyfriend (er, Fiance- I have to get used to that...) and I went to LA to visit a couple of friends. Instead of our usual plans of drinking and talking till 2, we decided to break into the LA hipster scene. This is basically because I was really itching to finally visit The Dresden – that terribly cheesy bar featured in "Swingers" that had the terribly cheesy husband-wife duo singing terribly cheesy songs. It was, as expected, terribly cheesy and fabulous, but also hot and crowded. Since we are not hipsters by profession, we decided to go someplace that we could a) sit and b) drink.

So we head on down the road to some other VERY fabulous bar. And who is sitting outside, engrossed in deep conversation with a Very Ugly Man (VUM)? None other than your friend and mine, star of screen and smaller screen, Keifer Sutherland. Keifer is not interested in anything other than what the VUM is saying, even though there are numerous ladies (and gentlemen) that are quite interested in him. I could tell you about the young man in a red velvet jump suit and silver platform shoes, or the young lady in the black spandex ensemble, but the image that sticks with me most is the Ass Pant Girl (APG). This young vixen has her pants down SO LOW on her ass that you can see, very prominently, her butt crack. And it’s a lot of crack, my friends. But she’s out there- shaking it for Keifer to see, as he ignores her and all others, deep in his movie star conversation. And I keep thinking- how can he not notice the 10 inches of crack that this women is flaunting for him?

I didn't understand it, but here we all were: the people taking pictures with Keifer, Keifer taking pictures of the people, the APG shilling for her autograph from Keifer, the DJ playing a great mix of old and new school hip-hop, and me, the poor sap that just paid $23 for three drinks. One common people, united by the thread of just wanting the Ass Pant Girl to pull up her pants.

At least, that was my common thread- I didn't ask The Keif-dog

So, my friends and I sat around a table, bobbing our heads to the Sugar Hill Gang and left about 30 minutes later.

That place was dead, anyway.
Posted by The Amy @ 11:15 PM permalink | Come on...give us some sugar (2)

 Tuesday, October 07, 2003
I Voted … again.

So this morning I got up bright and early to vote, and instead of the usual public school or some other government building, I voted in someone’s garage. Along with the kid’s bicycles on racks, the spare fridge and gardening tools, I re-voted on who should be governor of California. I made darn sure my chad was not hanging, nor dimpled, and I re-voted. Now, you have to understand that I am really one of those major democracy geeks- the kid who actually registered to vote on her 18th birthday, even though it wasn’t an election year, just because she could. I’ve always bought into the idea that my vote counts, and I always wear my little “I Voted” sticker with a little more pride than is probably necessary.

Now, my personal feeling is that this recall election is a monumental waste of time and money. The fact that they have to use people's houses as polling places is just one example of that. I’m paraphrasing Bill Maher here, but the idea that a bunch of jacklegs on their way out of Target who couldn’t be bothered to vote in the real election have the power to render my vote irrelevant, really pisses me off. However, as annoyed as I am about having to re-vote, there’s a little part of me that feels a little bit more included, a bit more intelligent and a bit more American today. So when the nice little old lady handed me my "I Voted" sticker, I gave her a big smile and stuck it right on my shirt.

I told you I was a geek.
Posted by The Amy @ 10:17 AM permalink | Come on...give us some sugar (2)