Category Archives: the talkies

Desert baby bested by grass, mother unmoved, unhip, big hipped.

Let’s all just agree now that we won’t expect much from each other on the weekends.

Mine involved a lot of spitting (Penelope), a lot of “I don’t want to touch you,” (me, to various family members – some covered with wet food, some covered in stinky fur), and a lot of sighs of various tones (Phil – there were two trips to Target and an unfruitful hunt for a red cardigan that I think he knew that I¬†knew was going to be unfruitful from the start. I did know. Sighs accepted.)

Oh, and we also went to dinner with The West Coast Aunts!

I would say that you could look forward to meeting the West Coast Aunts at PJs at TJ’s, but if you’ll look to your right, you’ll notice that registration is closed. I don’t really have anything more to say about that. I went into this paragraph thinking I was going to offer some consoling words, or say something about a wait list or whatever, but eh, if you were going to register, you would have done it by now.

Tomorrow, I have big plans – BIG PLANS. I’ve got to mail out some diapers I sold – did I tell you I’ve been selling my diapers? It took a while. When the first one sold, I had to lay down on the floor for a minute. Then I laughed and counted the $48 it sold for. I auctioned one yesterday, one that wasn’t even brand new and unworn like that first one, for $45.

It’s been getting easier.

After that, Pen and I will stop at JoAnn Fabrics for supplies for my much hipper hobby of counted cross stitch. My sister and I have begun collaborating on our own somewhat inappropriate patterns that will be available for purchase around probably never, or Christmas, depending on how action packed my month long trip to Pennsylvania is.

In other news, I’ve been participating in the Biggest Blogging Loser competition, and between that and a little work I’ve done on my own before it, I’ve lost 20 lbs, bringing me down to weighing… well, 20 lbs less than my prepregnancy weight and wearing one size larger than my prepregnancy size, and looking exactly zero percent different than I did three weeks after I had the baby, because I have giant boobs and a c-section pooch.

But hey, it’s about the health, right? I mean, twenty pounds! That’s something! I can be proud of that! So what if none of my old clothes fit! So what if I actually have to buy all new, BIGGER things to fit my twenty pounds lighter self! It’s not about APPEARANCE. It’s about — oh, go fuck yourself, me.

(There’s a video in this post. You don’t see it if you’re reading this in Google Reader. I’m not saying you have to click through, or even that it’s worth a click through. I’m just saying that I want credit for more content than you’re actually seeing. I want you to mentally tally up more content points for me than you would give me if I hadn’t made this note. Thanks.)

SHOW ME YOUR TUBES.

Wouldn’t it be funny if the videos on YouTube were called “tubes?”

No?

Well, whatever. It would at least serve my purposes in terms of post title.

Anyway, this guy is adorable. I was originally considering his Mario Kart Love Song as a first dance song, but I think that maybe it is too long, or the jokes too obscure*. Regardless, he is TOO CUTE.

And in my grand tradition of writing about Britain’s Got Talent and basically ignoring America’s Got Talent, because I am OVER your talent, America, check out Spellbound and Christopher Stone, neither of which I can embed but are worth your click, for astoundingness and “OH I AM SO IN YOUR CORNER, SHY LITTLE MAN!!”-ness, respectively.

And ALSO, I was damned to hell by no less than four skrillion people on Twitter a couple of weeks ago, for spreading this around, so why would I not also unleash it on all of you who may or may not have seen it yet, because even though I KNOW what will happen, I continually watch it because oh my god, you guys, the Santa girl.

I am an asshole, I am an asshole eight hundred times over, but now you are in this snot pit with me, and that is worth it. To me.

And have I talked about Jordan Frisbee & Tatiana Mollman on here at all? I like to watch for videos of the new routine each year – they eventually make their way to YouTube and they’re always fantastic. I’m not even INTO dancing, if a person who is not a dancer of any kind CAN actually be into dancing, but oh man, I get a kick out of these two:

Also, check out this completely improvised dancing between the two of them. For the love of pete, Phil and I can’t even kiss each other without awkwardly smashing face parts off of other face parts, or sleep in the same bed without SOMEONE’S elbow crossing the clearly defined line, directly into the ribcage of someone else, an innocent second party who STICKS TO HER SIDE.

I meant for this post to introduce you to all of the stuff I have found to be interesting on YouTube recently, but instead, have ended up somewhat depressed at my complete lack of discernible, video-worthy talents. What have you found on YouTube recently that makes you realize how little you have managed to do with your life? A six year old who wrote an opera? A blind trapeze artist?

(*I am also considering Skullcrusher Mountain.)

Who can be too busy for an 80 year old Scottish woman with No Regrets? Not me, Internet. Not me.

I didn’t think I would have time to write today – I’m trying to blow the top off the prize list and win myself some Cold Stone, and I have a big post coming up later this week, so I figured I’d take a day off.

But every year about this time, I end up talking to you about the same thing – Britain’s Got Talent.

First, in 2007, I wrote to you about Paul Potts. You can see that video here.

The next year, 2008, it was George Sampson who got my attention. Oh, George Sampson, are you 18 yet? My goodness. He was on one year and just ADORABLE, and then the next year he was like, 15 feet taller and 15 times more adorable. He’s just about the cutest thing on two dancey legs, I swear. I still remember when he popped up on the screen for the second year in a row, I immediately remembered him from the year before and shrieked, “IT’S GEORGE!!!” Since I get all of my Britain’s Got Talent-ness from YouTube, I very carefully avoided spoilering myself and watched all the videos, all the way through to his amazing semi-finals performance, which I still watch from time to time. You can see that here.

Of course, do I even need to talk about 2009 at all? Susan Boyle? Of course. I don’t really have anything else to say on that point, because we all know Susan Boyle by now, and if you haven’t watched that video at least 15 times, I am doubtful of your humanity.

Every year, it doesn’t even occur to me to go looking for that year’s crop of videos. Every single year, finding a video that absolutely blew me away or made my day or made me laugh my ass off has been an absolute surprise. In that tradition, today was no different. It was absolutely by accident that I stumbled across this video today and it made my entire day. My day continues to be made. It will be made some more when I watch the video again as soon as I post this.

Click the picture to go through to YouTube, as I can’t embed the video. I promise, the tendon-strain of a single click is totally worth it. If it isn’t, I owe you one click.

I am pretty sure if I tried to move to the UK, they would send me away for complete lack of talent.

If I am not that awesome when I am 80, IT WON’T EVEN BE WORTH BEING 80.

I Get Some More Soda With a Little Help from My Dog

Get it? The title, I mean? Because of the song? You know, the Beatles song? No? Ok, you know what, why do I even use my best jokes on you people?

Anyway, yesterday, I decided I was going to show you an awesome feature of my new house – how easy it is to get myself some more soda without even lifting my butt out of the chair. So I turned on the video camera and set out on my trek across the kitchen.

Halfway back, Brinkley taught himself a new trick.

Thinking it must have been a fluke, I did it again, and HE did it again. I set the camera up again for maximum Brinkley angle, did it again, and HE did it AGAIN!

So, basically, what I am telling you is that I spent most of yesterday dressed like a hobo (I’m calling the jeans/sundress/really old hoodie look “We Do Not Yet Own A Washer And Dryer And I’m Out Of Shirts” – full collection debuting next fall), videoing myself rolling across the kitchen floor.

You’re welcome.


Brinkley’s Newest (ok, only) Trick