It started with a sore throat, some harmless coughing. Then, over the course of the next couple of days, it hit all the stages of grossness—stuffed up nose, phlegmatic cough, painful throat and ear canals and general miserableness.
I moved downstairs to the couch (in an effort to save XFE from both catching my disease and losing sleep from my coughing). And during those many long nights and days alone ensconced in my couch, drenched in Vick’s Vap-O-Rub, drinking cup after cup of Throat Coat (ok, and a hot toddy or two) and hopped up on various cold medicines, I had a lot of time to think about life’s mysteries and how precious good health is, and most importantly, the state of our household magazine subscriptions.
I haven’t done too many book reviews on the blog, but I assure you, I do read. And not just US Weekly and Life and Style either. Why, I’ve even been known to pick up a Vanity Fair at the airport once in a while.
I kid. I actually read a lot. I used to get in a good 45 minutes of reading every morning during my approximately seven-mile commute to work on the metro. You read that right: 45 minutes to go 7.2 miles. So, yeah. Lot’s of reading time.
But for the most part, I don’t really review them on the blog. Way back when, I did review this tome of excellence by Gaga’s ex. And a recent book suggested by former running partner Amy definitely falls into the same genre/category of silly and celebrity-focused enough to be reviewed on ThePoeLog. (That is indeed a genre. You can see it on the New York Times Best Sellers List right under “Paperback Graphic Books,” which sounds scintillating but in actuality is like, comic books.)
The book — “I’ll Have What She’s Having,” is an in-depth exploration on how to map social behaviors. I’m kidding. That’s a different book. With the same title, but by a group of like, professors of anthropology.
Over the course of a year, author Rebecca Harrington tried 14 celebrity diets, ranging from Cameron Diaz to Sophia Loren (talk about two different body types).
The results are kinda meh.
First off, let me say, I am not at all a diet person. Never been on one. I’m not really much for denying myself. I know that drinking wine and eating delicious buttery bread every night is probably not a recipe for weight loss. Oh well.
And, I don’t look at celebrities and models and think I should look like them. I’ve never been susceptible to that type of societal pressure for some reason. There’s them and then there’s us. I have a pretty good idea of the effort and deprivation that goes into looking like that, and I’m just not interested. So maybe I’m not the ideal audience for a book like this.
I will say, this is an easy read. Takes about an hour and a half, start to finish, max. The chapters are very, very short. In fact, I got the feeling that I was essentially reading a series of blog posts, not an actual book. It cost me $5.99 for the Kindle edition, and I still think I probably spent too much.
The concept is pretty cute and Harrington is funny, but she’s a bit repetitive. She often mentions that working out like a celebrity is HARD. I feel like this is maybe not news?
Harrington is also far too brief. She starts a diet and then it’s just over. You have no idea from the outset how long she’s going to stick with any particular diet and she combines the days, so it’s just a blur. Like I said, short chapters. Maybe because she was weak from hunger and couldn’t type any longer.
There are a couple of takeaways —
Being a celebrity sucks. And it always has, even if you were Marilyn Monroe, Jackie Kennedy, or even Karl Lagerfield (and can I just say how refreshing it was to read about at least ONE guy who admits to having to diet to stay thin?)
It takes a lot of work to be Hollywood thin. You basically have to deny/starve yourself. Which sucks when you’re rich and famous and have access to all of the wonderful food of the world.
My favorite diet was Sophia Loren’s because basically it was just all about portion control (but not portion control like Victoria Beckham. Poor Harrington tried her “five hands” diet, which basically means you eat a lot of protein but all of it around the size of your palm. So five handfuls of food a day. Yikes.) But yeah. A cup of pasta, not a whole pot. Makes sense to me.
Gwyneth Paltrow can, apparently, cook. Even though it’s all healthy and macrobiotic or whatever, Harrington really seemed to like Paltrow’s recipes the best.
Worst (at least from the sounds of it) might be a tie, in my opinion: Beyonce’s Master Cleanse or Greta Garbo’s celery loaf. Since Harrington couldn’t even get past the smell of the cooked celery loaf to taste it (and who could blame her), we’ll never know the dietary effectiveness, but it does sound vile.
Don’t take book recommendations from former running partner Amy. Actually, it does make for good blog fodder.
FAKT: I have never used an emoji. I actually don’t even know how to. Are they on my phone somewhere? I am old and decrepit and have no idea. Maybe they’re housed on my Life Alert.
I recently read that some new emojis are being considered and it got me thinking about which ones I would use, if in fact, I was about 25 years younger and had more than four friends who will actually attempt to text with me.
Also, it got me thinking, “How do I get a spot on that emoji judging panel because I bet the discussions are amazing and intense and just awesomely nerdy.”
One of the PoEmojis that immediately popped into my mind was in fact a taco, and lo and behold, the taco emoji is one of the ones currently being considered for release. Whew. Because I do think I would truly use a taco one. Pretty much anytime my personal-chef-for-life XFE asks me what I want him to make me for dinner, the answers are invariably: tacos and/or ice cream sandwiches. Breakfast, lunch or dinner. Tacos are the perfect food. And ice cream sandwiches are just delicious.
Anyway, without further ado, my contributions to the emoji world, or PoEmojis, if you will.
Soysauced emoji. This one is useful for times you want to tell your friends that you fell and made a spectacle of yourself. (See origination of soysauced here.)
Sample use: “Oh girl. I was walking down the street minding my own business and then wham! <soysauce> I think I recovered pretty well, though.”
Cheese and wine emoji. I’m sure there’s already a wine emoji and probably a cheese emoji, but I really need them to be together. That would be my emoji to indicate that XFE is out of town and single girl debauchery is about to commence.
Sample use: “Hey, sorry you can’t come over for <cheese and wine>. Please be on standby to call Cat Protective Services in case I oversleep and forget to feed the cat.”
Crazy cat lady emoji. Speaking of cats, I know quite a few ladies who could use this one. I would expect to receive this one on birthdays, and especially after a friend fights with her boyfriend.
Sample use: “Hey girl, you better straighten up and act right or you’re going to end up <a crazy cat lady>.”
I always joke that I’m one boyfriend and a caftan away from crazy cat lady status. Actually, I do have a few things in my wardrobe that qualify as caftan-esque, so maybe I’m only one boyfriend away from crazy cat lady.
Real Housewives emoji. I think this one would either be like an eye-rolling emoji or maybe a shocked open-mouthed one. I can’t decide.
Sample use: “So then she said that I was being too dramatic and maybe I should reconsider my position that Texas is the best state, and I was all like, <Real Housewives>. I mean, can you believe her??”
Kim’s butt emoji. This emoji is meant to convey something truly large, perhaps, suspiciously so. Like, maybe, too good to be true? A total fake out.
Sample use: “Well, I thought we were going to get out of having to go to that baby shower, but it turned out it was a total <Kim’s butt> and now I feel like an idiot because we obviously have to go.”
Honey badger emoji. Because I was watching this show the other day on National Geographic (let me tell you….unless you want to watch Sex and the City reruns—on two channels, no less– you are basically screwed on daytime television viewing), and it reinforced once againhow badass honey badgers are. I think this emoji would come in handy when you’re trying to tell someone that they best not mess with you or you will open up a whole bag of snake-killing honey badger on them.
Sample use: “I got so angry when CVS didn’t have the most recent edition of Us Weekly, I almost went all <honey badger> on the unhelpful and uninterested clerk. Instead, I bought last week’s and read it again. Bye, Felicia.”
Speaking of, I don’t think a “bye, Felicia” emoji would sit in the emoji school yard unused. I see that one as a face with a side eye and a hand up dismissal sort of movement. Like “talk to the hand,” but with side eye.
I was a bit light on posting this weekend. Mostly because I was transfixed by the comet landing. I just don’t get it. Why would anyone want to land on a comet? I don’t get space exploration in general. And don’t even get me started on this nonsense about commercial space travel. Or NASA funding. Just avoid all space-related topics around me.
Anyway, that’s my excuse. And a roundup of some links that may or may not have distracted me from writing blog posts.
The Styleite story “behind” the overtly racist French artist who inspired the Kim Kardashian Paper cover. Yep, pun intended.
Who even knew that there was a beer mile record? Welp, there is and a mother of six broke it. Chris Kimbrough ran four laps and drank four beers in 6 minutes 28.6 seconds. Also known as Friday Happy Hour at Poe Industries. Minus the running laps part.
MentalFloss rounds up 11 common things people are trying to replace or redesign, including the toilet, which I’ve written about before. I mean, building a better toilet. I’ve written about that effort. Not just toilets, like randomly, or anything. OK. Time to be quiet now.
Lifehacker has some good tips on how not to become a hermit crab when working from home. I have to admit, I struggle with this, especially now that it’s getting cold out. I’ve been pretty good about going to the gym and I’m trying to get out to events, coffee dates, etc. But man, sometimes all I want to do is snuggle up on the couch with the cat and the computer.
Anyway, Corcoran’s presentation was hilarious and very inappropriate. She talked about losing her virginity, taking her entire real estate team for a joy ride in Harlem, and then she made fun of an Asian co-worker. It was crazy. I’ve never seen anything like it to be honest. Certainly not at any other business conference I’ve ever attended.
What I have seen at conferences, however, is grown people loose their ever-loving minds over free conference swag. I will never understand grown people fighting each other for a branded reusable bag. It’s pretty insane. I personally have no need for a mini flash light with the logo of some phone company on it, so I just don’t get it.
All sense of humanity or propriety goes out the window for a pen from an insurance company. People just grabbed armfuls of stuff that I’m pretty sure they’ll never use or even remember it being so damn important to them. I was literally standing at a table talking to someone and there was a tin of breath mints just sitting on the table and a woman walked up, asked if it belonged to either of us and then quickly snagged it. As if she couldn’t just go to that particular vendors booth and pick up one of her own. It was like vultures on the hunt.
I almost wondered if perhaps people were drinking (They weren’t. Nothing stronger than coffee being served). Because, honestly, people do some stupid stuff when they drink.
Just ask my favorite trailer park denizens at Myrtle Manor. They had not one, not two, but THREE incidents this past week, including two DUI’s. Which, if you’ve seen the show, it’s not really that surprising. Although, I would have expected at least one DUI to be earned while driving a golf cart. Perhaps while swerving to pick up a large bad stuffed with conference swag.
If they did hold a Myrtle Manor Conference, I’m pretty sure the reusable bags would be prison-jumpsuit orange, the items inside would include a flask courtesy of Wild Turkey, a koozie emblazoned with a Bud Lime logo, and a comb engraved with the name of a bail bondsman (for brushing your hair before your mugshot).
U.S. Treasury officials say the trip by Beyonce (bee-AHN’-say) and Jay-Z to Cuba was licensed as an educational exchange.
Wait a minute, hold up. Do we really need to phonetically spell out Beyonce’s name? Doesn’t the whole world know about Miss Bey?
And what is this about an educational exchange? Are Beyonce and Jay-Z part of some study abroad program? Did they become professors in their spare time? What would they teach – Ridiculously Rich and Fabulous 101? Crazy in Love: A Look at Psychological Issues in Contemporary Relationships? (I would absolutely take either of those classes in a heartbeat)
And, shouldn’t it be the State Department or at the very least the Department of Education who declares a trip to Cuba an “educational exchange?” The only reason I can think of that the Treasury would be involved was if there was a monetary donation in gold bars used to help speed the application along. (Oh wait….I might be thinking of the Federal Reserve on that one….)
“Assistant Treasury Secretary Alastair Fitzpayne wrote in a letter Tuesday to congressional representatives that the famous hip-hop couple traveled to Cuba with a group authorized by the Office of Foreign Assets Control to promote people-to-people contact in Cuba.
AH, the Office of Foreign Assets Control. Oh. OK. That sounds totally like an office whose mission “to promote people-to-people contact.” Sure. If those people are, let’s say, bankers, then yes, that might make sense.
US Banker: Hi, yeah, um, you’ve got some assets over there in Cuba that we’d like to see if we could maybe, possible get back. You know, what with that pesky embargo and everything, we thought it might be better to send over a high-profile delegation of rap stars to talk to you about it. And maybe smuggle the assets back in the elaborate hair style of the female rap megastar.
Cuban Banker: Sounds totally inconspicuous. Be sure to say it’s for educational purposes. I’ll clear my calendar so I can show them around.
The story goes on to clarify:
“Beyonce and Jay-Z marked their fifth wedding anniversary in Havana last week. U.S. citizens are not allowed to travel to Cuba for mere tourism, though they can obtain licenses for academic, religious, journalistic or cultural exchange trips. The so-called people-to-people licenses were reinstated under the Obama administration.”
In a rap released Thursday, Jay-Z said: “I turned Havana into Atlanta…Boy from the hood, I got White House clearance…Politicians never did s—- for me except lie to me, distort history… They wanna give me jail time and a fine. Fine, let me commit a real crime.”
My big question is: Who did the Cubans send over here? I mean, it’s a people-to-people educational exchange, right? An exchange usually means someone from over there got to come over here.
The cruel winter mistress has loosened her death grip on the DC region and allowed us all to thaw out for a minute.
Rather than go outside this evening for a run, or go and get a much-needed pedicure, I’m sitting inside the house typing up this blog post.
OK let’s be real: I’ll take any excuse to get out of a run.
But I do need pedicure. Right now, I have a sorta ghetto ombre situation going on where tiny chips of Cajun Shrimp cling diligently to a few larger toenails.
I did plan to run tonight. In fact, I downloaded this really catchy new song by this great new singer.
The song is about meeting a lovely young lady, falling in love and enjoying some intimate times. Alas, the love soon goes bad and unfortunately, the erstwhile lovers split up. They both move on to other lives and loves, but our young hero is not quite reconciled to the fact that they are no longer together. And so, in true troubadour fashion, he has written a song, letting other potential suitors know of his undying love for our fair maiden.
Candles lit with that wine, money still on my mind
And I gave her that really bomb sex
No matter where she goes or who she knows
She still belongs in my bed
Oh my! Candles and wine? How romantic! Tell me more about this storied romance, young Ray J.
I had her head going north and her ass going south
But now baby chose to go West…..
Well, she seems quite geographically astute, I’ll give her that.
She might move on to rappers and ballplayers
But we all know I hit it first
I hop in the club and boppers show love, and I don’t even put in work
I hit it, I hit it, I hit it, I hit it, I hit it, I hit it first
I hit it, I hit it, I hit it, I hit it, I hit it, I hit it first
So……let me get this straight, because I’m unclear: Are you saying that you knew this young lady back in the day? I mean, before the rappers and the ballplayers? It’s hard to tell because you keep repeating that you hit it, you hit it, you hit it first.
Also: Ray J., your song seems rife with yearning. Dare I say, it seems to me like mayhap, you still pine for this lady, am I correct in my summation?
And if you were to come back to me
Girl I know just how you’d do me
And if you were to come back to me
Girl I know just why you’d choose me
And if you were to come back to me
Girl, I’ll get it wet – jacuzzi
And if you were to come back to me girl
We’ll make another movie
Yep. I think he wants Kim Kardashian back. Although, to be fair, he says quite vehemently that this song is NOT about Kim. No, more than likely it’s about another girl he dated and made a sex video with and who now dates sports figures and rappers. Not Kim. At. All.
Listen, Ray J. Let me give you some advice. You need to move on. Believe me. She’s not coming back. She’s pregnant. With another man’s baby. While she’s still married to an entirely different guy. She’s kinda a mess.
I know how hard it is to get over someone. Well, I mean, I don’t know what it’s like from your perspective — I’m more of the heartbreaker myself. Yep, there is a very long string of devastated men left ruined in the Poe Path of Love. Men of means and stature — successful men who have never faced a cyclone of love such as myself. There are literally single digit numbers of men who have been completely undone by my beauty AND my booty. Including strangers on the metro. (I mean, did you see my toes in the picture above? Who wouldn’t want to get with that?)
So I know the pain that the love and loss of a fine woman can inflict on a man. But seriously, she’s done with you. Done. You need to go out and meet some other ladies. I hear this Gone With the Wind Fabulous lady is available. AND she’s got this amazing fan that I’m totally obsessed with.
So, go. Go hit that. Go make a Stallion Booty video with Ms. Moore. I look forward to hearing more about your future adventures in love.
Well hellllllooo there! Sorry to neglect this little ol’blog here but work has been kicking my butt this week.
This image, by the way, is from a yoga blog. That just cracks me up.
Anyway, like I was saying, work has been mildly panic-inducing. For one thing, I attended two all-day summit/event/type thingies full of super smart people sitting on panels or standing behind podiums talking about really important national and economical issues, including this legally-lawyerly one I went to on Thursday.
(No, it’s not another person claiming he knocked her up. Remember that? When for like, a hot half-a-minute we all thought Justin Bieber was getting his freaky-freak on instead of being the innocent little, barely teenage pop singer we had all thought him to be? I found it quite disturbing to even contemplate.)
Regardless of the state of his virginity, I do feel that the Beebs deserves proper legal representation. And, not only did I attend some legally summit, but my paralegal-for-life XFE and I have been powering through “Breaking Bad” on Netflix (that’s us, always late to the party). Right now we’re wrapping up season 3 and I feel like Saul Goodman is an appropriate role model for my future legal career.
Let’s take the merits of this complaint filed against one Justin-Deserves-Justice Beiber.
Charge A: Claimant charges he is Beiber’s biological dad.
Argument: Everyone knows the Beebs descended from marshmallow clouds of sweet, sweet pop music. No father necessary.
Charge B: Claimant charges he’s also the father of Selena Gomez.
Argument: Anyone with eyes in their head can see there is no resemblance between our angelic pop star and Ms. Selena. Plus, see argument outlined above.
Charge C: Claimant charges Bieber stole his credit card to pay for a penis enlargement.
Argument: He recently bought his first home. To the tune of $6.5 million. At 18 years old. I don’t think he’s struggling for scratch, no matter what kind of – ehem – improvements he’s trying to subsidize.
Charge D: Claimant charges that Bieber bought a load of cocaine for him and P-Diddy on the card.
Charge E: Claimant charges: that Usher came over to his house on July 4, 2012 and did some very ungentlemanly things to him while “blaring Kate Perry (sic) ‘firework’ song in my ear drums.”
Argument: While quite a vivid image is painted by our mystery claimant (all we know is that he’s from Michigan, which, by the way, begs the question of how one can file a lawsuit without giving one’s name), US Weekly provides photographic evidence of Usher’s whereabouts on July 4, 2012.
Charge F: Claimant charges: “Bieber has cost me $426.78 and never paid me back. This money was used as abortion money because Justin Bieber got my daughter Selena pregnant in my bedroom, on my Canadian bear rug.”
I watch a lot of Sons of Anarchy, which means I’m an expert on this topic: I imagine that being in prison must be quite boring.
Sure, there’s all that nice gym equipment to help you work on your fitness. But honestly, it’s prison. Other than the obvious protection angle (perhaps Opie should have hung out in the weight room a bit more), there really aren’t a lot of opportunities in prison to show off your drastic weight loss (Brilliant Reality TV Idea: “Biggest Loser: Prison Edition”)
I also hear you can work on your college degree while you’re in there. And I’m not just talking about University of Phoenix. Oh no. Apparently you can even attend Harvard behind bars. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get into Harvard? (Brilliant Reality TV Idea: “Undercover Boss: Prison Edition featuring some fancy-pants dean from Harvard”).
Or, if Ivory Towers ain’t your thing, you can learn a trait. Like, becoming a celebrity chef. This guy has all kinds of Oprah love all over him. And a book. These guys in Massachusetts are learning how to make cakes. (Brilliant Reality TV Idea: “Top Chef: Prison Edition.”)
But ultimately, you’ve probably got a lot of downtime, so you need to find things to keep yourself occupied. Which may explain this guy. (Yes. He’s a former inmate and he has a Wikipedia page. Conversely, I am an upstanding citizen and I have…..a self-published blog.)
According to his Wikipedia page:
Since January 8, 2006, he has filed over twenty-six hundred lawsuits in federal district courts across the country.
Wow. That’s a lot of lawsuits! I’m curious about this statistic. Does he file them electronically or does he fill out actual paperwork? Because I can barely do my own taxes (which is why my live-in-psuedo accountant XFE Block does them for me). So, in actuality, I can’t even do my own taxes. Electronically or otherwise.
And what’s the time commitment here? How long does it take him to file a lawsuit in a federal district court? How does he keep up with all of them as they move through the process? Are there spreadsheets involved? Because I have a deep appreciation for a good Excel spreadsheet.
Reality television star Kim Kardashian and controversial rapper Kanye West recently participated in a secret al-Qaida training camp somewhere in West Virginia, according to a lawsuit filed by “the world’s most litigious man.”
In his lawsuit, Riches claimed that on Father’s Day, Sunday, June 17, he was “deep in the hills” of West Virginia when he “stumbled upon” West and the Kardashian family at a secret al-Qaida training camp. “They burned the U.S. flag, stomped their feet on Barack’s picture. Then Kanye West performed a concert for all the Al Qaeda (sic) members,” Riches’ lawsuit alleges.
I wonder what songs were on that set list. Hopefully not Jesus Walks. I think it’s the wrong crowd for that little ditty.
The lawsuit alleges Kim Kardashian is now the leader of Al Qaeda and that she tried to assassinate Riches once she spotted him spying on the secret training camp. “I barely escaped this episode because … Kim Kardashian launched a rocket at me, Bruce Jenner threw a grenade at my head and Khloe Kardashian tried to behead me.”
I totally envision a whole Laura Croft scenario here, with Kim performing her own stunts in tight black t-shirt and a sleek braid. A Kanye-approved outfit, of course.
I must say, if any of the Kardashian sisters were going to attempt a beheading, I do believe Miss Khloe would have the brass ones to try it. I also find it odd that there’s no mention of Kourtney or Kris. But maybe they were busy working on the Sears clothing line. Or the one for QVC. Or Kylie and the other one’s new clothing line. (Geeze, how many free clothes do these girls need?)
Oh, wait. I’m sorry. The story does mention Kourtney’s activities a bit further down:
Another lawuit, filed in the U.S. District Court for Montana last Friday, alleged Kim, Kourtney and Khloe Kardashian, along with troubled starlet Lindsay Lohan, stole 123 cases of cold medicine from a Missoula CVS pharmacy in May. Lohan smuggled the pallet-load of cold medicine out of the store in her blouse and purse, Riches said. Kim Kardashian and Lohan then delivered the medicine to Kourtney and Khloe, who used the ill-gotten gains to cook methamphetamine.
I just love that Lindsay Lohan is described as a “troubled starlet.” Hilarious and adorable. Well played, Charleston Daily Mail. She’s a bit more than troubled and she’s not really a starlet. MI would describe her more like, “total trainwreck who can’t get set insurance Lindsay Lohan.”
Poor Lindsay. And poor Kardashians! Honestly, I don’t know how they find time to run an entire terrorist network. They’re all just so dang busy with their myriad reality shows, clothing lines, fragrances, appearances and magazine promotion. It’s sounds pretty exhausting. Which might explain the meth, I suppose.
It’s been a bit of an odd Friday around here. For example, I was trapped at a work-related event for a large portion of the afternoon and when I returned to my own floor at around 2:30, no one was around. It was actually pretty creepy. Just empty chairs in every office and cube. Even the Party Crue from the Finance Hizzy were half gone. If there was a Get-Out-of-Work-Early memo, it was not circulated to me.
Our favorite white trash songstress has a new song out called “Supernatural,” which, of course, she needs to promote by going on Ryan Seacrest’s radio show. Seacrest, being the intrepid reporter that he is, delved deep into Kei$ha’s creative process and found out the inspiration behind the song:
“It’s about experiences with the supernatural… but in a sexy way,” she told Seacrest. “I had a couple of experiences with the supernatural. I don’t know his name! He was a ghost! I’m very open to it.”
Actually, my friend Katie over at MaddieUncensored has a much more plausible theory on the whole ghost-sex thing, including who it might have been.
I highly doubt she had sex with a ghost. It’s more likely the trash bag she was wearing billowed up and confused her. But please refer to the ghost as Ca$per.
The only Casper I know is J-Lo’s boy-toy, so Jenny from the Block better start enforcing her man’s curfew.
Kei$ha also mentioned that she went on:
A “spirit journey by myself. No security guard. No managers. I just went around the world and lived on a boat. I was in Africa rehabilitating baby lions. I went diving with great white sharks, and just went on this crazy spirit quest. I got hypnotized, and I just really wanted this record to be really positive, really raw, really vulnerable and about the magic of life.”
Sounds to me like she’s been hanging out a bit with ol’SnoopKitty. And by hanging out, I mean, smoking some very special medicinal cigarettes.
In case you were wondering, some of the other titles off her new album are “Die Young,” “Last Goodbye,” and “Love Into the Light.” I’m definitely sensing a theme here.
(By the way, that Wikipedia page linked above is pure comedy gold. Some funny, funny stuff on there. Spandex on the Distant Horizon?? A song about “futuristic sex toys??” National Geographic documentary?? Also: cover art = genius)
While we have some pretty compelling evidence purely speculative ideas on what Ke$ha’s ghost might look like (J-Lo’s leftovers), there’s just as good a chance that this ghost has a bagel for a forehead, particularly if this is a Japanese ghost.
“National Geographic Taboo” chronicles the bizarre beauty treatment in an upcoming episode set in Tokyo, following three people who opt into the temporary forehead injections which have become a keen part of the Japanese “body modification” art scene.
Here’s how it goes down: technicians insert a needle into the forehead and inject about 400 cc of saline to create a forehead-sized blob. (One bagel-ee describes is as feeling like “something’s dripping down [his] head” and a “slight stinging sensation.”) The practitioner then places his or her thumb into the blob to create the indentation….Luckily, the bagel-shaped injections aren’t permanent; the round protusion fades after about sixteen hours as your body absorbs the saline.
I had been attacked by a bird previously, on a trail in Rock Creek Park just after dawn, so I was familiar with the feeling of bird claws raking my head. It feels like a kitten has been set on your head, claws out: There’s a light pressure and a mildly sharp prickle.
(Actually, the whole first-person account is terrifyingly graphic. I can’t believe they put that in the newspaper.)
Now, it’s a well documented fact that I am not fond of birds. I have pretty much been attacked by every bird I’ve ever been around, including one memorable time when a grackle attacked my head one fine day while I was walking to class across the University of Texas campus. There were even witnesses.
(Both of whom failed to render aid, I caustically observed.
I may have shouted at them at the time. It’s all a feathery blur.
OK, fine, I did yell at the two small female exchange students, but seriously! How long did they intend to just stand there watching me get attacked??)
But I especially don’t like being dive-bombed by aggressive asshole owls while trying to get my fitness on. Running is difficult enough. I seriously cannot add defense moves (ie: flailing) to the mix. Somebody’s going to get hurt and it’s most likely going to be me.
Very weird week. Hopefully this weekend is free of ghosts, body modifications and especially, owls. But not Ke$ha. I dig her jams.