The perfect set

My good friend Dave is the inspiration for today's post, which would have been decidedly LESS interesting had I proceeded with the original plan to write about the pseudo-inspirational crap you might find on a grande-sized Starbucks coffee cup.

Yep. Let's all take a moment to thank him right now. Say it with me:

THANK YOU, DAVE.

Anyhoo.

First off: I've never been in a strip club. Plenty of opportunities, never been. Those of you who know me well might find this surprising. But it's true.

Here's why: For some reason, I really like the idea of ending my days being able to say "I've never been to a strip club."

I fantasize I'm this shriveled up, out-of-her-freakin-mind old broad scooting around the nursing home wearing nothing but a housecoat and a gummy grin, goosing old guys and yelling: "I'VE NEVER BEEN TO A STRIP CLUB!"

Maybe.

Or maybe it's because I've done pretty much everything else and it feels kinda good saying that.

Maybe.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
According to Dave -- who I know for certain appreciates a good neighborhood bar over a strip club any day -- there is such a thing as The Perfect Set.

We're not talking fake tits here, either, although I'm sure Moe would happily weigh in on that topic.

No, we're talking about music.

Three songs. Up tempo, mid tempo and slow. The Perfect Strip Club Set.

Got it?

Here is Dave's perfect set:

She Loves My C@*k by Jackyl
Don't Want No Short Dick Man by CJ Gee
I Touch Myself by The Divinyls.
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I wasn't entirely sure how to spell Divinyls so I popped over to my iTunes library to check it.

And I was shocked - SHOCKED - to learn it wasn't one of my songs.

It's an all time favorite, yet I'm not an owner.

I'm very disappointed in myself right now. Don't get me wrong, I still love myself.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Top strip scenes in movies off the top of my head and in no particular order:

The Full Monty - the final scene.

Yep. That's all I got. Sorry.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I decided to go all Googly on the subject -- search for 'top strip songs' -- and found this sad woman with the unintentionally ironic moniker 'knowitall':

strip clubs are ******* lame and gay grow up. what kind of man wants to sit around with 30 other guys and get a hard on. maybe they should all just jack each other off and admit they are all ugly and retarded thats why they cant get any real women.

Jesus tits. Lighten up, honey. Perhaps if you stepped away from the computer once in a while you'd actually have a shot at getting popped in the cooter. Then maybe you wouldn't be so angry and concerned about how other people have fun.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
After much thought, here's my perfect set:

Naughty Naughty - John Parr
Purple Haze - The Cure
Black Velvet - Alannah Myles

Runners up:

You Can Leave Your Hat On - Joe Cocker
So Hott - Kid Rock
Cream - Prince
D'Yer Mak'er - Led Zeppelin
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Confession: Since the first time I heard it back in the early 90's, I've always wanted to strip to Purple Haze by The Cure.

Take a listen. I think you'll agree it is a surprisingly strip-worthy song.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Here's me, texting Jim last night: "Quick: What's the best strip club song of all time?"

Jim: "Pour Some Sugar on Me"

Me: "I figured"

An hour later (keep in mind, he's been in Las Vegas, the Dancing Cooter Capital of the Planet, since Sunday).

Jim: "It's been so long since I went to one I don't know what's popular."

Me: "Right. It took you long enough to come up with that answer. I was waiting."

Jim: "My personal favorite is Lick It Up by Kiss."

Me: "There ya go."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
So what's your perfect set? What makes the perfect stripper song?

Isn't 'popped in the cooter' fun to say?

Say it with me: POPPED IN THE COOTER.

Thank you, Dave.

Clapclapclapclapclapclapclapclapclapclapclapclap.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am listening: Hedy's Perfect Set
I am reading: Still nothing
And I am: thinking about installing a brass pole in the basement

Dubious distinctions

Sitting in a meeting the other day, I heard this:

"He received the networker of the year award from. . ."

I'm bummed for not catching the bestower of said award, but at that point I had to tune out, my mind racing as it was.

Networker of the year? There's an award for people who make small talk with strangers while downing crappy crudites and piss-warm wine?

Who knew?

And how does one become networker of the year?

Is it based on the number of business cards collected? Name badges from inane seminars? Free plastic pens?

"That rat bastard Randy won networker of the year because I had to miss the Women's Business Associates Technology Specialists Hiring Information Executive Resources Networking Forum Hoo-Ha Roundtable Club last month. I should've just blown off mom's funeral. It's not like she woulda missed me."

I fucking hate those things. Mostly because I'm an introvert.

Well. I'm a high-functioning introvert, which means I can tolerate small talk as long as Jack Daniels is also in on the conversation.

The fact is, anyone who achieves Networker of the Year is most definitely NOT spending enough time in the office - oh, I dunno - actually DOING things that will make a DIFFERENCE.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Speaking of dubious distinctions, have you heard that Chicago is now the murder capital of the U.S.?

YAY, Chicago!

Clapclapclapclapclapclapclap...wait.

Yep.

#1 in murders, capped off by the recent Jennifer Hudson family tragedy which is just off-the-charts fucked up.

What's worse - and I knew I heard this correctly but had trouble finding the quotes - is this:

Serious crime is up but arrests are down in Chicago, and some police officers say they are working the streets less aggressively out of resentment toward their new chief and fear of being second-guessed by him.

Yes, this a fairly complicated issue. Chicago cops have been working without a contract for like, 100 years, or something. And apparently someone decided it was a good idea to hire an outsider to head up the Chicago Police Department. The nerve.

Here's what I just don't get. These guys are cops, right? With guns? Tough guys trained to handle difficult, tense, incredibly dangerous situations to protect the public?

Right.

So if they're being paid to do a job (by taxpayers, nonetheless), yet they're slacking off because they don't like their boss, how does that make them anything but whiny, slacking little bitches?

Just asking.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Confession: I have a somewhat dubious distinction myself.

We know, Hedy. You're joyfully post-coital.

No, that's not it.

I make the World's Greatest Grilled Cheese Sammich.

Seriously. If ass-hats like that networker of the year can get a plaque for yapping all day, I oughtta get something for the masterful way I melt cheese between two buttered slices of bread, yes?

At least I've got Gromit's vote locked up.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Are you on LinkedIn? It's like MySpace and Facebook for fancypants executive types.

The thing that kills me is the 'Answers' forum - where curious and/or helpful folks can ask and answer questions presumably related to professional matters.

This week's Top Expert is Dave Maskin, a self-dubbed 'trade show traffic builder', who has answered a whopping 386 questions.

Yep. 386 questions.

I'm guessing he's unemployed. Or he's a 'consultant' which is workspeak for unemployed.

Anyone with enough time to answer 386 questions in one week is a) Not getting laid and b) Desperately needing to get out of the house.

Perhaps he should go to a networking hoo-ha seminar event forum club.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am listening to: The Daily Show
I am reading: Nothing, too tired lately
And I am: All dubious and shit

Joyfully something or other

"You're FAMOUS!"

That was my friend Jeff on IM yesterday morning.

"?"

"Sending post-coital songs to Neil..."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Post-coital. His words."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Let's backtrack.

On Sunday, my guy Neil Steinberg complained about the dearth of decent love songs over the past 15 years.

He asked readers: "Do they write good love songs anymore? And what might they be?"

Post-haste, I sent the following:

I'm Yours by Jason Mraz.

Cheers,

Heather S______
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It's a great song. Apparently Neil agreed. Sorta. In yesterday's column.

Heather S______ suggested 'I’m Yours' by Jason Mraz, a joyfully post-coital, reggae-syncopated song.

Joyfully post-coital? JOYFULLY? POST-COITAL?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Hey Mom, I'm in the Sun-Times today."

"Oh really?"

"Yes, just search for 'joyfully post-coital' and you'll find me."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It's better than making the news for something illegal. And it is semi-poetic, I suppose.

Actually, I believe 'joyfully post-coital' was the phrase under my high school yearbook picture in 1984.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Great. This is just great.

Thanks to Neil, I'm now the #2 Google hit for 'joyfully post-coital'.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jason Mraz's I'm Yours is joyful. Yes.

Post-coital? Hell, no.

It's romantic. It's about jumping into something with both feet and no regrets. It's about shedding your ego and starting fresh.

If you want post-coital, check out Smell Yo Dick by Riskay. It reeks of post-coital. And it's catchy. Certainly not one of the top 50 love songs from the past 15 years, but it has some seriously sticky staying power. So to speak.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
So any thoughts on great love songs from the past 15 (okay, maybe 20) years?

Here are some of my favorites:

Candy - Iggy Pop & Kate Pierson
To Make You Feel My Love - Garth Brooks
Rhythm of Your Shoes - O.A.R.
Skyway - The Replacements
I Don't Want to Miss a Thing - Aerosmith
Come Away With Me - Norah Jones
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I suppose the better question is: Do you and your favorite someone have a song?

We do. And it's not remotely post-coital.

Of course applying 'coital' to anything by Bob Dylan would be a bit of a stretch.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am listening to: You Belong to Me - Bob Dylan
I am reading: Nothing
And I am: Joyfully post...oh, whatever

My favorite s-word

Here's someone accusing McCain of being a socialist eight years ago. She's a student from Moe's alma mater, no less (wait for it):



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Please note: I did not call John McCain a socialist.

Jon Stewart from The Daily Show did, using irony and humor.

The fact is, Obama and McCain aren't socialists.

They're both outstanding Americans - who have done far more with their lives than you or I could ever hope to - and who have very different ideas about how to best serve their country and its citizens.

If we could get beyond the outrageous accusations, we might just be able to figure out who is best qualified to lead the free world for the next four years.

Wouldn't that be lovely?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am listening to: Who Knew - Pink
I am reading: Neil at the Sun-Times
And I am: Still giggling over the whole sheep f*@cker thing

Sad dog

This is what a very sad dog looks like when his favorite person has been gone to Europe for two weeks.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am listening to: The furnace running
I am reading: Neil at the Sun-Times
And I am: Really wishing it was Friday

Welcome!

It’s been an interesting few days here at HedyBlog.

I’ve been called classless. Stupid. Immature.

And those are the really charming parts.

I’ve rejected more comments over the past three days than I have in the entire three year history of HedyBlog.

It’s nuts.

Aside from discovering a veritable ass-load of unhinged, angry people, here is perhaps the most interesting thing I’ve learned from all of this: There seems to be a popular misconception about why HedyBlog even exists.

Let me clarify.

I don’t write for you. Or you, either.

Let’s repeat that last part just in case you Lazy-ass Republicans didn’t catch it the first time:

I DON’T WRITE FOR YOU.

And although I am profoundly grateful for my regular readers and the great friends I’ve met through this silly hobby of mine, I don’t write for them either.

I write for me.

It doesn’t cost anything but time. It amuses me, keeps me writing and helps me figure things out.

Then why publish a blog, Hedy? Why make it public?

I started this blog because I don't like talking on the phone much and it was the easiest way to let my friends near and far know I'm still alive and cussing.

Obviously it's turned into more than 'what I did over the weekend' and, much to my unfettered delight, certain people have come to expect updates on a regular basis.

But still. I write for me. Not them. And not you.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I just realized the first post ever published here at HedyBlog is worth re-publishing today:

Wednesday, December 14, 2005
Welcome

"I never know what's going on with her."
"She doesn't call, she doesn't write."

Problem solved!

Welcome to Hedy's Blog.

Just to set expectations, here are a few:

1) I'll update this on a regular, yet random basis to keep you in the loop on what's going on in my world.
2) This blog is rated "R" so expect swearing (surprise!)
3) The opinions expressed here are entirely my own. If you don't agree, get your own blog.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Well now it all makes sense, Hedy. I'm surprised you have any friends at all if you don't call or write them very often.

Yeah, I was expecting that. More ugliness. Fabulous.

If your definition of friendship involves chatting with each other 20 times a day and cuddly-wuddly sleepovers every weekend, that's GREAT.

I don't understand it, but if it works for you, that's GREAT.

That said, you probably wouldn't understand my definition of friendship, either, so let's agree not to judge each other on that and move along.

Sound reasonable?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Here’s the upside to all the commentary carnage over the past few days: I’ve had a serious case of the giggles lately because it appears that all these ugly, angry comments have come from men.

Why?

My assumption is due to the other apparent misconception that I’m somehow very concerned with the number of people who visit my blog and the number of comments I receive.

"Let's see, 15 comments. Eight of them were from you, three from me. That leaves a big 4 from others. I guess the Great and Powerful Hedy is not quite as great as she thinks."

Typical male preoccupation with quantity and size.

Wait. I shouldn't generalize. It's not fair, is it?

Typical short-statured, small-penised male preoccupation with quantity and size. That's better.

Again. I write for me.

HedyBlog gets a respectable number of hits per day. If you’ve contributed a comment or two here, you know I don’t always respond. I comment on a handful of other blogs because I find them interesting and I have something useful to contribute, not because of some silly, obligatory, circle jerk quid pro quo.

Life is not a contest, folks. It doesn't matter how many hits or comments you receive, it's all about offending as many people as possible.

That was a joke.

Speaking of jokes, here's another thing I learned: Angry people are, by and large, rather humorless. And irony is challenging for them. I think it has to do with the whole tiny wiener thing. I think.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
What about the Lazy-ass Republicans comment? Sorry folks, but that was not a generalization on all Republicans - some of my very favorite people fly with the right wing.

It was meant for Republicans who ask silly questions (How the hell do you know what Obama is? He hasn't done anything! Tell me what he has done while senator.) when the answers are right here. And here. And here.

And don't even get me started on someone who refers to a person as a 'what'.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Anyhoo.

If you choose to read this blog (and freedom to choose what you read is one of the very best things about living here in America, don’t you agree?) that’s great.

Thank you.

But if what I’m saying bugs you to the point where you’re firing off ugly, angry missives to someone you don’t even know, it’s time to step away from the computer and think about why you’re so angry.

Surely it can't be me. Or this silly, immature, classless blog.

Perhaps you need to get laid more often.

I know that’s why I’m angry lately. Well, that and the economy. But while both involve getting fucked, the one has nothing to do with the other. Really.

More jokey irony there, FYI. Feel free to beat me up over bein' classy with the really bad swears some more. But only if it makes you feel extra cuddly-wuddly good about yourself. And thanks, but I realize jokey isn't a word. Neither is tiny-wienered.

Also: I’m not publishing angry comments here anymore.

It’s not because I don’t like hearing other opinions, it’s because of the frightening and downright creepy nature of them.

If you’re going to make outlandish statements (He’s a socialist!) please give us all the benefit of your wisdom and provide a link or two backing it up. Otherwise, you’re wasting your time here and I’ll say it nicely this time: Please move along. Please find another place to vent. And for the sake of your loved ones, seek help for your anger management issues.

However. If you have a reasoned, interesting, thoughtful perspective on the topics covered here, your comment always will be published. Promise.

So. To summarize:

1) I don't write for you
2) I especially don't write for angry men with tiny wieners
3) If you happen to be angry and/or tiny-wienered, please stay away (a very good policy even beyond blogging, right ladies?)
4) Thank you. And welcome.

TA-DA!

Clapclapclapclapclapclapclapclapclapclapclapclap!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am listening to: The Daily Show
I am reading: Truth, justice and normalcy by Leonard Pitts, Jr. in the Trib
And I am: Not writing for you, either.

Intellectual curiosity

intellect |ˈintlˌekt|
noun
the faculty of reasoning and understanding objectively, esp. with regard to abstract or academic matters : he was a man of action rather than of intellect.

curiosity |ˌkyoŏrēˈäsitē|
noun ( pl. -ties)
a strong desire to know or learn something : filled with curiosity, she peered through the window.

Intellectual curiosity
A strong desire to learn more about a person, a thing or a way of life.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Have you heard this phrase? Intellectual curiosity.

It’s been tossed around a lot in the media lately with regard to a particular presidential candidate.

In fact, after Sunday’s Meet the Press, we can safely say it’s become the ‘gravitas’ of this decidedly crappy campaign season.

I looked it up because I didn’t want to assume I knew what it meant.

And that’s pretty much the definition of intellectual curiosity.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Remember gravitas?

From Latin for ‘big heavy balls’, gravitas became a veritable media darling after Bush chose Cheney for VP.

My how things have changed.

I wonder if there’s a Latin word for Moose-lovin’ maverick.
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Intellectual curiosity.

It means never assuming you have all the answers. Never assuming that you know everything there is to know about a person, a thing or a way of life.

It means constantly striving to understand our world and why people do the occasionally bat-shit crazy things they do.

It also means seeking out diverse information sources and opinions, rather than relying on the sources that reinforce your view of the world. Taking an objective view of things before drawing conclusions.

I suppose there is a certain comfort in having everything figured out. You can categorize people: good/evil, right/wrong, conservative/liberal, democrat/socialist, greedy/generous.

We're all guilty of it occasionally. Because it simplifies things. Makes it easier to understand this highly complex world of ours.

But the people who have all the answers all the time – the people who have everything and everyone neatly packaged and labeled – scare the living hell out of me.

Because if you have it all figured out, you’ve stopped asking questions. You’ve given up trying to understand people.

And that’s where all the good stuff is.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am listening to: I Wish You Love – Rachael Yamagata
I am reading: Leondard Pitts Jr. in The Chicago Tribune
And I am: Quietly curious

A fleeting memory, a banished wish

The Houston Chronicle endorsed Obama yesterday. The paper hasn't endorsed a Democrat since 1964.

But as of Friday, this sort of thing is becoming rather commonplace and is not the point of today's post.

Reading this from the Houston Chronicle's endorsement sparked a memory from the day McCain announced his pick for VP:

Perhaps the worst mistake McCain made in his campaign for the White House was the choice of the inexperienced and inflammatory Palin as his vice-presidential running mate. Had he selected a moderate, experienced Republican lawmaker such as Texas Sen. Kay Bailey Hutchison with a strong appeal to independents, the Chronicle's choice for an endorsement would have been far more difficult.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
IM'ing with a friend on August 29, 2008:

9:54:21 AM Jeff: McCain just pandered to women....
9:54:24 AM Jeff: you gonna fall for it?
9:55:34 AM Heather: lol
9:55:40 AM Heather: I don't really like him much
9:58:07 AM Jeff: yeah... but he picked a WOMAN to run as his VEEP... doesn't that mean you are required to vote for him & her?
9:58:46 AM Heather: oh jeez...didn't know that
9:58:54 AM Heather: who'd he pick? Kay Bailey Hutch?
9:59:11 AM Jeff: Governor Palin Alaska
9:59:23 AM Heather: ahhh interesting
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I would've liked to see what a truly qualified vice presidential candidate would've done for McCain's campaign -- be they Kay Bailey Hutchison, Liddy Dole, or Rudy Giuliani.

I would've really liked that race.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am listening to: The Bears beat up the Vikings
I am reading: This article regarding the income inequality gap from the WSJ
And I am: Wistful

A Grand Day Out

Sometimes I scratch the door to Go Out and Pee.

Often, especially following meals, it's to Go Out and Poop.

Occasionally, it's for what I refer to as the Grand Pottée: A Pee, followed by a Poop, capped off with yet another Pee.

She always feels compelled to offer instruction as I depart.

"Go Out and Poop," She says helpfully, as if I need guidance on this, the most basic of bodily functions.

But on bright and glorious days like today -- I, Gromit Dog -- scratch the door for something else: To Go Out and Sun Myself on the Deck.

She loves it when I do this. She told He it's a sign of my Superior Intellect.

Meh.

As if any celebretard doesn't appreciate the simple act of sunbathing.

Still.

She didn't quite understand the appeal, as She prefers the chaise lounge.

Until today.

Sprawled on the deck in my usual spot by the impatiens-filled pottery, basking in the glory of a decidedly perfect late-autumn day, suddenly She's next to me.

On the deck. On her back. Smiling. And sighing.

"Now I understand," She says. "The wood is wonderfully warm. It feels good."

She snaps a photo to commemorate the occasion.

Superior intellect, my fuzzy little ass.

But She'll get there eventually.
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I am listening to: Animal Planet
I am reading: Investigations of a Dog by Franz Kafka
And I am: One Smart Puppy

Interesting

The Chicago Tribune endorsed Obama today.

The first time in the paper's history that the editorial staff has chosen a Democrat. It was founded in 1847.

Also today: The Washington Post (another relatively conservative paper) announced it is endorsing Obama as well.

Here's what is most interesting: Both of the papers cited McCain's choice of running mate Sarah Palin as a major reason for their decisions.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am listening to: Amazing Life - Jem
I am reading: The endorsements
And I am: Fine

Where I'm from

Pet peeve #3,874:

"Oh, you're from Michigan? Where?"

"Mount Clemens...well, where I grew up they call it Macomb now."

"Is that near West Bloomfield?"

"Um, no, it's er, northeast of Detroit."

"Oh. I only know people from West Bloomfield."

God...DAMMIT.

If you haven't guessed, West Bloomfield is where all the 'My car is worth more than your home' people live.

Makes me feel like I'm in that scene from Caddyshack when the wealthy kid says 'Really...are you going to Harvard?' and Danny replies 'No, I'm going to St. Copias of northern. . .'

Yep.

What really kills me is this: Michigan is a HUGE state. Huge.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am listening to: Round Here - Counting Crows
I am reading: Updates to my event wiki
And I am: From the CLEM, dammit!

Endorsements

Jeez, Hedy. Enough with the politics. We're sick of it. We're sick of bad news. And we're tired of all the negativity.

I know! So these endorsements involve two of America's favorite pastimes: Entertainment and Shopping!

YAY, America!

Movies

Freedom Writers - This is an amazing true story. A step way, way above any of the other white-teacher-makes-a-difference-in-the-projects flicks. Worlds better than Finding Forrester (my former favorite in this genre). I've watched it twice in the past 24 hours. If you watch one movie in the next two weeks, make it this one. Relatively kid-friendly with a tiny bit of violence and language, but so powerful.

Ironman - I'm more of a Merchant Ivory chick, so I don't get much from the comic book movies. But this is fun for one reason: Robert Downey, Jr. He's brilliant and captivating. A bit of violence, but again, fairly safe for kids.

The Color Purple - Hadn't watched this movie (based on Alice Walker's Pulitzer Prize winning novel) since the late 80's when, flipping through the channels, I found it a few weekends ago. It's as powerful as ever. Amazing story - amazing cast. Fuck Out of Africa. This movie should've won the Best Picture Oscar.

The Full Monty - This is like the anti-Christ of Merchant Ivory films but I love love love it. Watch it with subtitles on because the accents can be dodgy. I cry laughing over the gnome interview scene every time. In my top 10 favorites of all time.

The Queen - Speaking of Brit flicks, this film gives us a glimpse into the weird, wacky lives of the royal family immediately following Princess Di's untimely death. I don't know how accurate it is. Hellen Mirren's queen cries over a dead buck but is a cold-hearted bitch when it comes to Diana. Sad but interesting.

TV Shows

True Blood - I read Salem's Lot by Stephen King in high school. Before that, it was Detroit's Sir Graves Ghastly who lovingly introduced me to all of the classic horror flicks, including Dracula. That said, I'm not a huge fan of vampire books and flicks. That silly-ass born again twat Ann Rice ruined it for me. However. This show, written by Alan Ball -- who created Six Feet Under and American Beauty -- sucks you right in. Sorry. Still. Amazing characters and fantastic writing, but not at all kid-safe.

The Big Bang Theory - Confession: I'm a geek freak. Be smart. Make me laugh. And I'm all yours. Watch this show if you want to understand what churns my butter.

Dexter - You know those chicks who write letters to prison inmates? Although this show's serial killer (who only kills really bad people) hasn't been caught yet, I finally understand those nutty broads. Fascinating premise. Good writing. And Captain Yummy Pants, Michael C. Hall is a real killer.

Products

Apple wired keyboard - I went to Best Buy with the intention of purchasing a new Apple keyboard for my desk at work. Against my better judgment (it's a long story) I came home with the Rocketfish Bluetooth keyboard - an utterly disappointing piece of shit for several reasons: Lame set-up instructions, a virtually worthless web site, and (most important) a loud, clunky keyboard. I came home and took the time to pair the keyboard with my Mac that night rather than having to fiddle with it in the morning at work. It took six (!) times to get the Mac to recognize the keyboard and when I got in the office the next day, it didn't remember the keyboard. And yes, my Mac was set to remember the hardware. I returned to Best Buy that night and got the Apple keyboard. Soft, silent and remarkably well made. Bonus: The Apple keyboard was $10 cheaper so I had extra cash to get the Ironman DVD for Jim. So, the lesson here, kiddies: When you have the opportunity to purchase something from Apple, don't fuck around, just do it.

Pill Pockets for Dogs - Gromit is a decidedly middle-aged dog. He's on more meds than us, and that's saying a lot. And he's no fool (as you well know). You can't bury the pills in his food because he'll eat around them. Pill Pockets are perfect for providing pills to your persnickety pooch.

Gap Undies - I pretty much hate this store. The clothes are overpriced and lately they feel cheap. But I wandered in a few weeks ago and they had a sale on squirrel covers so I picked up a few. I have to say they make me feel like Gladys. Gladys, Hedy? Yes. Gladys. Glad-ass. Happy bottom. Good stuff.

The Pet Trainer - I'll never forget this. The first time little 8-week old Grommie visited the vet, his doctor told me two things: 1) I hope you didn't get this dog for protection, because he's a sweetheart and 2) He will always tell you exactly how he feels. In case you haven't noticed, Gromit can be rather outspoken. Which is a nice way of saying he has a tendency to bark his ass off. Especially if you're swimming. Or eating dinner. Or simply in the other room, ignoring him. A couple months ago Jim's mom picked up the Pet Trainer for us and it works remarkably well. It supposedly emits an ultrasonic tone that is irritating to dogs. I dunno, but every time we hit the button, Grommie squinches up his face just like Sarah Palin when Katie Couric asked about her foreign policy experience. The best part? We don't have to actually use it any more. If he gets barky, we just pull it outta the drawer and he shuts right up. Smart dog.

Dr. Feelgood's face balm - About 2 p.m. every day, my face gets about as greasy as a Mr. Beef's Italian, which is best eaten off of the sports section of the Chicago Sun-Times because Mr. Beef doesn't provide trays. Anyhow. Back at my face. It ain't just T-zone, either. It's AOFF-zone. As in All Over my Fucking Face. But no more. Dr. Feelgood - in spite of the unfortunate Crue-esque name - is fantastic. No more Mr. Beef forehead. As Jim likes to say: Just a steamin' pile o' cute.

iPhone - If God had a mobile phone, it would be the iPhone. Of course there ain't an app for talking to The Lord just yet, but I'm sure those clever buggers over at Apple will announce it soon. Email. Internet. All kinds of cool gadgets wrapped up in the easiest, most comfortable, most useful phone you could ever want. Can I get an amen? AMEN!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am listening to: Bad Things - Jace Everett
I am reading: Not much
And I am: Relaxed

The opposite of Arab is....

Here's a transcript from an exchange between McCain and one of his supporters at a recent rally. They're talking about Barack Obama:

"He's...he's an Arab," says a woman from the audience.

"No. No ma’am. No ma'am. He’s a decent, family man citizen that I happen to have disagreements with on fundamental issues," says McCain.

Did you catch that? Here's the video.

But HEDY - you PROMISED you weren't going to write about politics.

This is more of a social commentary than political. Truly.

So the woman calls Obama an Arab and McCain says "No, he's a decent citizen."

As if the 3,500,000 Arab Americans living here in the United States aren't decent citizens?

Well, I'm sure some of them are complete assholes, but it's not as if simply by virtue of being Arab, they're automatically terrorists, criminals, and liars.

Right?
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I am listening to: The Chicago Marathon, waiting for Meet the Press
I am reading: Stoking fear of The Other by Steinberg
And I am: Sad

Quiet

Unlike my friend Moe, I have no legitimate excuse for not posting this week.

He's right, you know.

Our lives will change because of what's happening in the global economy.

Although you wouldn't know it. The parking lot was jammed as usual at the Chicago Premium Outlet off of I-88 this afternoon.

And there was an hour wait at the restaurant we went to last night - so we ended up eating at the bar.

So. This means either a) People don't realize how bad things really are or b) They realize and are making themselves feel better in typical American fashion by drinking, eating and shopping.
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I am listening to: Freedom Writers
I am reading: Research on Bill Ayers
And I am: Tense

The Zen Question

"What don't you know and how will you learn it?"

"Great question. They say that wisdom begins when you admit what you don't know. I'd like to end this debate with perhaps the first honest, direct answer of the evening. I don't know if I'll be able to accomplish all the things I've been talking about throughout this campaign. I don't know when this fuckstorm of an economy is going to turn around. I don't know if you'll be better off four years from now. But I do know that putting you - the American people - first for a change and really listening to what you know about this great country of ours would be a good start towards learning more about the things that I don't know. Thanks for listening to us tonight; it's time we started listening to you."
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I am listening to: NBC5 News
I am reading: Nothing
And I am: Really craving some candor

A bit of non-partisan frustration, if you don't mind

Senators Obama and McCain: ANSWER THE FUCKING QUESTIONS.
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I am listening to: A bunch of blah blah
I am reading: Nothing
And I am: Frustrated

Best day

We're heading into this highly anticipated Big Wedding Weekend as my friend Susan so lovingly pointed out yesterday.

It's 9:33 a.m. And I'm eating Cheez-Its for breakfast.

I'm not crazy, just incredibly hormonal.

Yep. Perhaps one of the most emotionally-charged events in recent memory and I'm fixin' to bleed.

I was choking up at the rehearsal last night. Without serious help from Jack Daniels today, I'm going to be a blubbering pile of snot before we even make it to the church.
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"Are you glad you married me?" I ask yesterday, after a lovely and unexpected afternoon visit with the Bride and Groom.

It's not quite enough to be cramped and bloated and crabby, I have to become a bleeding Mrs. Beasley doll -- pull my cord and instead of 'Would you like to try on my glasses?' or 'Do you want to know a secret?' it's the same four questions:

• Do you love me?
• Do I look fat?
• Are you glad you married me?
• WHERE IS THE CHIP DIP?

~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Are you glad you married me?"

"Yes. It was the best day of my life."

"You're lying."

"Yes. I'm lying. It was the day Karen Abbott gave me a blowjob. But our wedding was a close second."
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And that is what I wish for our dear friends Steve and Judy on this brightest and most blessed of days: Laughter.

Keep laughing together and your best day will never be behind or ahead of you, but today.
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I am listening to: This Will Be (An Everlasting Love) - Natalie Cole
I am reading: Nothing
And I am: Bleeding and blessed

VP schmeepees

I peed in my pants a little when Biden said 'Bosniacs.'

Da says she lost; Mom says she won.

I've promised not to talk about this until I can be nice, so I'll just say G'night and God Bless Ya to Joe SixPack and the Soccer Mom.
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I am listening to: Tom Brokaw talking like he has marbles in his mouth
I am reading: Nothing, too tired
And I am: Sleeping in tomorrow

The question

"Hedy, when it comes to establishing your world view, I was curious, what newspapers and magazines do you regularly read to stay informed and to understand the world?"

"I'm so glad you asked, Katie. I read the New York Times, the Washington Post, and the Chicago Tribune on a daily basis. For a more global perspective, I also read the International Herald-Tribune and the Scotsman. I listen to the local NPR station as often as I can. For a more irreverent (yet truthful) perspective on world events, I subscribe to the Daily Show via iTunes and visit Fark every day. I also have Google reader set up on my iPhone so I can do a quick scan of news first thing in the morning. As for magazines, I subscribe to Newsweek and Real Simple. My husband gets Playboy and I read that every month, too. Great stuff in there about major Supreme Court rulings and whathaveyou."
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I am listening to: Amazing Life - Jem
I am reading: Here Comes Everybody by Clay Shirky
And I am: Informed

The perfect sandwich

“So I read your blog. You’re not going to write about politics or religion anymore?”

That was Mom on the way to the train this morning.

“Nope. Not until I can figure out how to do it without being offensive.”

“Well that’s good,” she says.

“Yeah, we’ll see how long it lasts.”
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Watching late night TV on Monday, it hit me: The ingredients for the perfect sandwich.

The perfect sandwich, Hedy? Is this what it’s come to? Recipes?

Right. I don’t cook.

Last night I turned off the oven light All By Myself and received a standing ovation from Jim and our friend You Know Who.

To be perfectly honest they didn’t exactly stand up. Or clap. But it was a proud culinary moment nonetheless.

Anyhow. Just because I don’t know my way around the kitchen doesn’t mean I don’t know what tastes good.

So here ya go:

Hedy’s Recipe for the Perfect Sandwich

1) Russell Crowe
2) Craig Ferguson

Ta-da!

Clapclapclapclapclapclapclapclapclap.
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You were expecting bread and condiments, not beefcake? C’mon.

The idea of Craig and Russell making a Hedy sammich is sometimes the only thing that gets me through the day.

Well, at least since yesterday.

Before then it was more of a Craig Ferguson flat-bread pizza with a smidge of extra virgin olive oil. And a banjo.
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Hedy, your sandwich seems a little meat-heavy, won’t that be rather, um, filling?

Exactly.

Bon appétit!
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I am listening to: Don’t Tell Me - Madonna
I am reading: Here Comes Everybody – The Power of Organizing Without Organizations by Clay Shirky
And I am: Hungry