Que sera sera-ku...

no point, worrying
about what you can't control
doris day was right

Coming soon, to a blog near you...

More ridiculous photos like this one!

I don't know why we can't seem to get a good photo of ourselves at this Oscar night party, but at least you can see the fine work of the MAC makeup artist we saw. Look how blue Miss Cheese's eyes are!

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Fun was had. Cocktails were imbibed. Dancing was done. Feet were sore, despite my fabulous AND comfy new dress shoes. New friends were made, who we'll never see again.

Good times!

Why I could never be a parent...

I nearly peed my pants looking at these pics.





(I particularly enjoyed the feeding and shopping tips.)





(Thanks, Dooce...)



Hey, you know what's a really fun thing to do on a Friday night? Sorting through your closet in order to get rid of stuff you no longer need. No, this is nothing like last year's huge purge (go back to last February's archives, if you want to see a really amazing tranformation), since I don't have a ton of old dishes and cups and assorted old shit dating back many years anymore.


This time, it's mostly clothing. And shoes. Remember how I said I've been shopping like a maniac over the past year? Yeah. Well. Even my large closets are getting cramped, so it's time to share the wealth with those who are less fortunate. And attempt to get my closets looking like they did last year at this time...

Do I know how to party on a Friday, or do I know how to par-tay?

Speaking of parties... it's time again for Miss Cheese and I to get gussied up for that big fancy Oscar party we so enjoy! Stay tuned for pics next week... (again, go back to last February for last year's summary).

EDITED TO ADD: Holy moly. Why didn't I clear the closet sooner? Why do I hang on to clothes I haven't worn in eons?? And at some point in the early 2000s, I bought four pairs of sandals that look nearly identical. Because, you know, here in chilly SF, I wear sandals often enough to need the same ones over and over and over again. Jeebus. (No pics this time -- I was moving so efficiently I didn't want to stop.)

Sinus-ku...

to breathe through my nose
would be oh so glorious
no more sinus spray!

Bleah...

Of course. A three-day weekend, with time to do some things I've wanted to do for ages... and I'm sick. I suppose I should be grateful that my immune system held up through all the chaos at work -- I simply haven't had time to be sick -- but I'm annoyed that now that things have calmed down some and I have time for me again, it decides to let in the latest sinus/cold thing.

So I've spent this weekend watching loads of television, and I've come to a surprising conclusion about myself: I'm a prude. I don't understand how anyone can shove their tongues down the throat of someone they've just met.

Mind you, I'm not judging. I know I'm an oddball (for a million reasons, really) because I've never had a one-night stand. I applaud those of you who can just go out and get yours when you want to. What I'm saying is, I don't understand how you do that. I can't. Even kissing, to me, is pretty intimate...and I just can't go there with someone I don't know and trust.

And yeah, I realize what I'm seeing on TV are people who are trying to get as much TV time as possible. They've learned how to play that attention-getting game well. But even with that as my goal, I can't imagine walking up to some guy -- celebrity or no -- that I've just met and just start tonguing him. (And really, how does anyone kiss Flavor Flav? Is the draw of money and/or fame really enough to go there?? Bleeeaaagh.)

So I guess that makes me a prude.

Quirk-o-Rama...

It's not just Valentine's Day... it's International Quirkyalone Day! And yes, I'm celebrating.

What the hell's a Quirkyalone? According to the site, it's "A person who enjoys being single (but is not opposed to being in a relationship) but generally prefers to be alone rather than dating for the sake of being in a couple. Quirkyalone is not anti-love. It is pro-love. It is not anti-dating. It is anti-compulsory dating. We tend to be romantics. We prefer to be single rather than settle. In fact, the core of quirkyalone is the inability to settle. We spend a signficant chunk of our lives single because we hold relationships to a high standard."


I didn't even realize I was a Quirkyalone until a few years ago, when Sass wrote about QAs and linked to this quiz.

Go take it now. How'd you do?

I got a score of 103. Which means I'm "Very Quirkyalone: Relatives may give you quizzical looks, and so may friends, but you know in your heart of hearts that you are following your inner voice. Though you may not be romancing a single person, you are romancing the world. Celebrate your freedom on National Quirkyalone Day, February 14th!?"

So yes, I'm celebrating. And yes, I remain a hopeful romantic. There may not be flowers or candy coming my way today, but I'm fine with that. And I'll go to hula class and sweat my ass off and try not to trip over my own feet and be happy spending my VDay evening doing something I love, with people I adore.

Hope you have reason to celebrate today, too.

Self-professed profound...

The thing that gets lost in all those tabloid headlines...




...is the fact that the woman can SING. Love this song, love this album. It's one of my favorites of 2007. I hope she's able to get her shit together. It would be a terrible waste of talent if she doesn't.

EDITED TO ADD: If the only song of hers you've heard is "Rehab," please click above and listen to this gem.

(Plus, you have to love a woman who has the line "what kind of fuckery is this?" in another tune.)

Lucky in love?

I just had an epiphany.

A friend of mine has fallen in love for the first time, which is really wonderful. The problem is, this person is already in a legally-binding relationship, so it's also awful. It's impossible to move in any direction without someone -- or more than one person -- getting hurt, but it would also be awful to live without ever having that feeling of real, true, passionate love. So I'm thrilled and sad for my friend, all at the same time.

And then I realized how lucky I've been to have had that kind of love in my life. I know it exists. I know what it feels like. Even though it all eventually went to shit and caused me more pain than I could ever have imagined. I mean, I'll never know how he truly felt about me -- it seemed in those early years that he was as in love as I was -- but that's not the point.

The point is that I've been privileged to have felt that overwhelming, all-consuming love for someone else. It was beautiful, once. And I know that even if I never feel it again (a very sad thought, actually), I won't settle for less than that.

More evidence that I am, indeed, a freak...

I didn't watch the Super Bowl. Not even a minute of it. And I don't care about what a great, shocking fourth quarter blah blah blah.

Now, if I hadn't had plans to go out (early dinner and a play), I probably would have watched parts of the game. Well, I would really have been watching the commericals, since those generate more watercooler chat anyway. I might have gone to one of the parties I was invited to. But I just don't give a shit about this game. I'm kind of baffled about why so many people DO care, even when their favorite team's not involved.

I used to enjoy professional sports in my youth, largely because it was practically a requirement in the house in which I grew up. My mom and brother are huge sports fans, so in order to attempt to "fit in" (I have always been the oddball in my family), I watched too. And even cared, somewhat.

That was a long time ago. As much as I'd like to postulate about the glory days of sports, my lack of interest now isn't really about that. My interest waned once I moved out on my own and could indulge all of my own interests freely and without judgment.*

And with control of the TV remote.

(I DID , however, catch a little of the Puppy Bowl. Awesome!)

*i do enjoy GOING to sporting events, and the whole social -- and sociological -- aspect of that. sitting at home watching on tv? zzzzzzz.)