I just got an email from JetBlue thanking me for my patronage on yesterday's flight from Ft. Lauderdale and giving me a $15 voucher "as a gesture of apology and goodwill." Apparently the in-flight DirecTV was broken, and they're compensating me for my un-TV'd time at a rate of five bucks an hour.

I didn't notice, busy as I was watching My Cousin Vinny as it aired on the seatback monitor in front of me. Apparently via some heretofore unknown satellite provider other than DirecTV?

Evs. I'm not looking this gift horse in the mouth. Merry Christmas to you too, JetBlue.



I went to the Bust Craftacular this weekend, and if I learned one thing there, it is that — if ubiquity means passe — feathered headbands are so over. Seriously, every third vendor was selling a birdlike headpieces that looked exactly like this, and they were all claiming they were handmade. I smell a rat-like bird.

But the real point here is that, as with most things trend-related, I am only now jumping on the head-embellishment train (it leaves the station going 45mph towards Denver). So what's a girl to do when she wants to put something ridiculous on her head, but doesn't want to go the plumage route? Bows, motherfucker.

embellished headbands by helenr

in related being-late-to-the-train news, I made a polyvore account. Feel free to buy me any of these, at any time (except for the one I already own, but am too chicken to wear, thus implying I should probably not get too financially invested in this trend).


In The Meadow We Can Build A Snowman

Mia emailed this clip to me this morning, and because I am a fancy-pants iPhone owner now, I watched it before I even got out of bed. Needless to say it has made my entire day a thing of magic and awesomeness.

Yes, kids, that's Aimee Mann singing "Winter Wonderland" with special surprise guest John Krasinsky. In harmony.


Diet Fail

Of all the diets getting thrown at my face every time I turn an internet corner, I'm really not planning on using this one:

(click to enlarge)

Not that I have anything against Oprah. But even beyond flagrantly spelling her name wrong, I'm not sure she's the right choice for a "flat-belly" diet.


We Like The Cars

Some clicking and page-jumping and various bits of internet ephemera have led me, of all places, to a car website. And kids, holy crap, I am in love.

It's weird, of course, because I am a non-car-owning person who does not care about cars, preferring instead to focus on important matters such as restaurant-industry gossip and my liquid eyeliner collection. But The Truth About Cars is freaking awesome. It's everything you want in a life partner: smart, wry, a soupcon of profane.

Mr. B is thinking about buying a Prius (he recently grew a beard, and today he bought an iPhone, so it's the logical next step), so I looked up TTAC's Prius review. Not kidding: it's one of the best reviews I've read. About anything. Ever.

Sort of proves the philosophy I've long espoused that it's not what you write about that matters, it's how you write about it. Because I could not give less of a shit about cars, and yet somehow I've killed the last forty-seven minutes reading about nothing but.


vignette: get behind this

me: hey. what is the french preposition for "behind"
me: like opposite of avant garde
Adam: derriere
Adam: means behind, literally
me: derriere garde? really?
me: that sounds like a diaper
Adam: maybe "apres-garde"?
me: there we go


Naked Elves and Epileptic Peat

One of the most fun dates Mr. B and I have ever been on (and yeah, I know, it is ridiculous that we still go on dates even though we are totally in that phase of relationship where I can tell by his breath whether he's woken up with a cold or not, but we like going out so sue us) was to this event called Draw-A-Thon. (NSFW! Thar be naked people!)

Here was how it worked: It would be late in the evening on a weekend, and you went to the back room of a bar, and you scrounged a seat, and you pulled out your sketchbook and your pencils and you drew pictures of the naked ladies (and occasional naked dude) who were posing exaggeratedly on a dais in the middle of the room. Also, employees of the bar periodically came around and took your drink order. Also, spectacular music played, in particular Zombite, which you all should immediately listen to.

So look, does that not sound like the most awesome evening ever? Naked people, beer, a veneer of legitimate artistic endeavor. Spectacular. And I made some really great pictures, and got a little better at resolving my eternal difficulty with knees. And Mr. B and I were both like, oh my god, we have to go to this constantly.

But then it stopped being at the bar, and started being at a long string of "art spaces." And the models got skinnier and skinnier and scarier and scarier, and the themes got weirder and more Freudian, and we kept trying to bring friends, and out-of-town guests, but for some reason no one wanted to go draw naked people at midnight, and for one reason or another we never really made it back.

I'm on the email list, though, and I think that today's email has sort of answered the reason or another. Because this Saturday's Draw-A-Thon is themed Santa's Satan's Sex Slave Shop:

Yes! we are having another Draw-a-thon, a satirical play on Santa, slavery, capitalism, Miss's no cloths, nude elves, female reindeer's, nude carolers, and off course the Grinch that stole sex-mass. 2 rooms short and long poses, and a special priced draw-a-thon for the holidays $17 online and $20 at the door.
Live music by Epileptic Peat

Call me a prude (you're a prude!) but I am a little unsettled by this. Not so much that I can't handle nude elves and what is apparently a wild stampede of rogue apostrophes (she attacks the grammar!), but a band called Epilectic Peat? That sounds like the fake band that the teenage son joins in a Very Special Episode of a mid-80s sitcom. Not the place for me.

(Mr. B notes that now that I've written critically about this event, we are obligated to go to it. To which I note: maybe.)



Lollerskates: On the blog I get paid to write, there are advertisements. And right now, for me, they are alternating between ads for some bullshit "lose 10 lbs in 5 days" diet, and ads for Ambien.

This is hilarious because Ambien causes sleep-eating, which leads to weight gain! And then the weight loss ad is all "lose the weight!" Get it? Contextual humor!

Update: There are also sidebar ads for Tyson chicken. Not sure how that fits in, except that maybe if you have Tyson chicken in the freezer, you will sleep-eat it? Zomg.