Soppho

When I first heard Ida Maria’s “I like you so much better when you’re naked,” I predicted it was going to catch on like some sort of burning bush (pun sort of maybe intended?). But then Lady Gaga hit and, really, who the hell can compete with dresses made out of Muppets and hair bows composed of actual hair? I know I can’t, try as I might (For the record, razor sunglasses are not a good substitute for contact lenses. My corneas do the work so you don’t have to.). Still, this song is catchy, quirky, and the video reminds me of a slightly dirtier version of the opening to Saved by the Bell, which I definitely never watched every Saturday morning when they played two episodes back-to-back, nuh-uh, no way, no sir, not me.

While we were watching t.v. last night, a commercial featuring Laura Bush came on.

Me: Oh, come on now, Laura. I can clearly see your eyes moving back and forth as you’re reading from the teleprompter.

Y Chrome: Isn’t she a literacy advocate? Isn’t that what she’s pushing—reading to your children? She’s reading!  It’s not “recite from memory to your children.”

Me: <blink>

Y Chrome: Anyway, we don’t know that she’s actually reading. She could just be shifty-eyed. She knows first-hand what happens when you don’t read to your children.

Me: <blink>

Y Chrome: …

Me: It’s like talking to myself, only with less swearing.

Maybe this is why his grandmother doesn’t want him dating a Yankee.

This is The Watson Twins’ excellent cover of The Cure’s “Just Like Heaven,”  with the added bonus that this video was made at Charlottesville’s very best radio station, WNRN.

And if I haven’t succeeded in appealing to your musical tastes…LOOK, TWINS!!

This is what happens when I forget my razor at my mother’s house over the holidays. It’s terribly convenient in that you can shave your legs, trim your bangs, and cut snowflakes out of construction paper all at the same time, or, if limb retention is important to you, all within five minutes.

This may seem like a shameless ploy to get Mom to send it back to me, but there you would be wrong. My mother doesn’t read my blog very often anymore, not since I characterized her as “cosmopolitan-swilling.” In fact, this is all I heard about all Christmas long: “Oh, I wouldn’t know about current events; I’m just your cosmopolitan-swilling mother.” “Pass the potatoes to your cosmopolitan-swilling mother, please.” “Can you get out the martini glasses for your cosmopolitan-swilling mother? For egg nog. Yes, that’s it. Egg nog.”

And then she took me and my sister to a bar.

COUGH.

I’d better start limbering up, because now when she finally returns it to me, I’m going to have to figure out how to shave with a razor that’s lodged in my skull.

When we were younger, I always dreaded the Christmas season for one reason. Okay, two reasons, but we’ll leave my terror of Mall Santa Claus out of this for now, thanks. I dreaded the holiday season because I knew that sooner or later Mom would exclaim, “Let’s go look at the Christmas lights!” and the shoehorn all of us—the unwilling—into the car, arms and legs akimbo, and drive off into the sunset.

It was the epitome of preteen embarrassment. What if someone you knew saw you in a car with your family? Together! Enjoying some of the season’s fun! OH THE HUMANITY.

And as far as I was concerned, the only reason to slowly drive past a house in the middle of the night (fine, 8pm) with a car full of people is to whack somebody. Am I right or am I right?

As I got older (and more to the point, stopped getting dragged on these trips), my feelings about holiday lights softened. Well, sort of.

A house near my high school had a huge light-up sled, complete with all nine reindeer and Santa Claus freeloading in the back. Not really my ideal home decoration, but fairly cute and festive during the holiday season. Except that they kept it up there on the roof all year long. Sure, it wasn’t lit, but it took up a quarter of the roof and extended about 3 feet above the treeline. SUBTLE.

Look, I get it. You’re looking at someone who left her little foot-tall ceramic Christmas tree in the living room well into May because she couldn’t bear the thought of chasing around the apartment all the little peg lights that always fall off the tree and dissolve in thin air. It sucks to go through all of the work putting the lights up, only to have to take them down a month or so later. No wonder you put them up before Thanksgiving and keep them shining on til well past New Year’s Day. But seriously? Leaving the lights up on the house for the rest of year but not lighting them is just ridiculous. You’re not fooling anyone! Things don’t just disappear when they’re not lit up, you know!

(Although if they did, we might have an even more compelling reason to get Lindsay Lohan to rehab as soon as possible. Badda-bum.)

For instance, never in the history of the world has this conversation occurred:

“Gee, Mary, I thought we had some sort of lamp in the living room.”

“Why, we do, Bob. It’s just that you can’t see it because it’s not on right now!”

“Oh, that’s nice. EXCEPT NOW WE CAN’T SEE IT, SO HOW WILL WE EVER FIND IT TO TURN IT BACK ON AGAIN?!?”

“You’re sort of an asshole, Bob.”

No, people, just no. (Well, the middle stuff at least has never happened, but the first and last sentences definitely have been uttered. Particularly the last. TRUST.)

Have no fear, though. I have a solution for those of you who wish to be festive, but want to do a half-assed job of it. Behold:

(via failblog.org)

You’re welcome.