que pasa, bitches?

Some day soon I will write a post of substance, a post of coherence, a post with a point that actually makes a point. Today, however, is not that day. Today you get, yet again, the random spewings of my brain. Though fear not! There will be no more links to vaguely upsetting pictures of anyone's senator. (You must admit, when you inflict that upon your reading public, there's nowhere to go but up. There's a plan in everything I do.)

First of all I want to tell you one more time how much I love google. Not an hour ago, Led Zep Girl and Townie Girl were having a discussion of MTV back in the day, and while Led Zep Girl could name most of the original VJs, she was stuck on one. "Tall goofy guy with spiky hair..." TG had no idea, and I'll be damned if I did either when they pulled me into this. But I googled and in ten seconds or less my amazing google-fu presented: Alan Hunter. Ten years ago this would have been one of those questions where your brain hurt and the answer popped randomly into your head at 3 am and you'd have to resist from calling the person you'd been debating it with and waking them up.

Second of all, I'd like to tell you the good, the bad, and the torture-Andrea points of trivia last night. I was a good little low carb girl and decided that I would allow myself one, and just one, beer. So I sipped my delicious IPA with very tiny little girly sips (and immense self-discipline) all night and made it last. On the bad side of the equation, the answer to the halftime question was the Red Hot Chili Peppers, and I did *not* get it on the first clue because I didn't know what their original band name was. (Anthony, I'm sorry, baby. I will study the facts of your life with more diligence and not get distracted by how much I would like to lick every one of your tattoos. Pinky swear.) Torture Andrea? The host played "No More No More" by Aerosmith and so I was moved to lip synch it, as you do, to Mr Barma, who then asked with amusement if I were wasted on the quarter of an IPA that I had consumed up until that point. I said NO, I just liked that album--Toys in the Attic, you philistines--and did he know how many times I listened to it in high school? To which he replied, "How many times on your back?" Oh, everyone is a comedian. You write one little tiny post about what music you used to have sex to as a teenager and you never hear the end of it. God.

Thirdly, I am finally reading "Julie and Julia" because I plan on renting the DVD of the movie and I always like to read the book first, so the movie will suck in comparison. I kid, I kid. But actually, I am on that kick again of reading people's humorous autobiographical opuses that started out as blogs and turned into a book deal, 'cause Jesus Christ, man, doesn't the whole world need to know what music I fucked to in high school in print? Keep hope alive n' all.

And last, what do we think of these sandals and similar styles? I find the whole ankle-cuff thing very fresh and kinda intriguing, but I fear I am too old and/or too short for that crap and that while Our Lil MILF could get away with such things, I would look ridic. (Plus I have to admit I don't need any more flat sandals. I'm supposed to be looking for shoes for work. This is the kind of thing that leads me to buy yet another pair of jeans when I go out looking for work clothes. Sigh. I want a lifestyle in which I can wear jeans and funky sandals every day. Like blogger-turned-highly-paid-author! That'd work.)

xoxo