Boooty Camp

On a recent episode of Desperate Housewives, Eva Longoria Parker's character Gabrielle finally had enough of being "fat" (and by fat, I mean a size 3). So with the help of Edie (Nicolette Sheridan), Gabby enlisted in an all-girl bootcamp to help trim and tone up. Yes, she hated it. Yes, she treated the trainer and the whole process with a fair amount of good old fashioned princess attitude. But - with a certain amount of coaxing threatening by Edie - she did it... And was back in her engagement dress by the end of the episode.

So it's in the spirit of Mrs. Gabrielle Solis that tomorrow I will be following my own person Edie - Allison's sister Caitlin - as she leads me to a smaller ass and thinner thighs. Hopefully.

I'm not looking to go from a size 22 to a 2 - hell, I'm not even looking to drop any more than 10-15 lbs. But if I can at least eat more than a salad for lunch and allow myself to partake in sweets (which *I* usually bake) without looking down at my hips and subsequently wanting to stab myself with Angelina Jolie's collarbone, then I'll be happy.

And who knows, if I manage to survive (and maybe even like it) maybe I'll continue with it and get hot enough to audition for the 13th cycle of America's Next Top Model: Petite Edition.

You ain't my bitch, N****, buy your own damn fries!

Ohhh President Obama.
I always knew I loved you.

Seriously, I've had a crush on Mr. Obama for years. And not just for his style, undeniable coolness, wry intelligence and brilliant oratory... But for his politics, his passion, his dedication, and his unwavering resolve. Seriously, I'm with the 2,634 Americans who name Obama their personal hero -- above God, Reagan, Ghandi, Martin Luther King Jr., and (apparently) even Jesus. The way he's grabbed this country since taking office and tried to steer it from sliding further into the 7th circle of hell is awe inspiring. Unlike someone who ended an almost-15-year radio show yesterday with the self-important song Joe Jackson song "I'm the man" (refer to the 1st stream, and find the 25.30 timecode), Barack Obama really *is* the MAN.

Obama is *the* MAN. Period. So long as he continues to do his job well, he can basically do no wrong. He could probably even curse a blue streak and win a Grammy for it.

Oh wait, he DID. In 2005, for his audio-book reading of Dreams From My Father.

It is worth noting, however, that the then-Senator was imitating his (dare we say, colorful?) friend Ray, and was only swearing in the context of that imitation.

But it's still *definitely* worth listening to.

And now, thanks to some digging by the illustrious Erin of News Me Baby, we can hear our cooler-than-thou Prez actually use words that would make Mamaw from North Carolina blush.

Enjoy.

The little FM station that couldn't

It's a sad day, my friends... For today marks the official death of talk radio in Los Angeles. Today at 5pm, CBS will be pulling the plug on KLSX - better known as 97.1 FM TALK. Adam Carolla, Teresa Strasser, Frosty Stilwell, Heidi Hamilton, Frank Kramer, Tim Conway Jr., Danny Bonaduce, and that bastion of integrity Tom Leykis will all cease to be heard on LA radio.

The business of radio is not always kind to the people whom it employs - it feels like it was just yesterday when KYSR's Jamie White, Jack Heine and Mike Roberts (aka Jamie, Jack and Stench) were conspicuously yanked off of 98.7's airwaves with no explanation. No goodbye. No "best-of" wind-down series for the affiliates. No contract buy-out for the talent. Nada. Ouch.

Unlike Clear Channel, CBS has been classy enough to give the talent two days to say goodbye to the listeners, and I've been faithfully plugged in listening. Yesterday, Leykis took the opportunity to thank his fans for their continued loyalty for more than 10 years, and, in a surprising show of humility, he exalted the brass at CBS as Great Employers who have always looked out for him - and have subsequently taken care of him nicely... Quite nicely, or so he alluded.

...And just how nicely are they taking care of good ol' Tom? Are they doing so well by him that the whole radio station went down in flames as a result? Could 97.1 have been saved if it weren't for the greediness of Tom Leykis?

Yes, if you ask Frank Kramer. In a gloves-off broadcast this afternoon, the second 'F' of Frosty, Heidi, and Frank blasted the misogynistic afternoon-drive host, saying

Tom Leykis KILLED this radio station. We were all asked to take a pay cut, and *everyone* said 'Ok, we'll bend. We'll follow in the footsteps of Barack Obama and do our part. We'll all take a pay cut to save this station.' And guess who WOULDN'T. So when you listen to his last two hours tonight about how much he loves the listeners and all that bullcrap, just know - he doesn't care about them; he never did. I don't care WHAT he says - that man killed this station. He is responsible.

Forgive me if you were also listening and find that what I've written here isn't 100% verbatim Frank's quotes - it's hard to transcribe when three people are talking at once - but this was the sentiment, the gist, the overall feeling of anger and hatred that poured out from the stereo speakers. He was serious. This was no radio shtick; no silly-DJ banter on the last day. Frank. Was. Pissed. For their part, Heidi and Frosty did their best to steer Frank back on the 'hey, we're on to better things' bandwagon - though they did divulge that they agreed to take pay cuts to save the station, as would Carolla.

For what it's worth, Frank eventually broke down in tears over the death over their show and station, and called everyone (Tom included) "family." ...But wow. Just plain wow. I guess if this is true - and the station could have had a reprieve if Leykis would've agreed to a pay cut - then that makes him the selfish, neglectful and arrogant father of the "family." And if it's *not* true, then Leykis will have a chance to clear the air and defend himself at 3pm.

I worry for the future of radio.


**UPDATE**
At 3pm, Leykis took a moment to address Frank's accusations, and his defense can basically be summed up in two words: "prove it." Tom ended it by musing that maybe Frank was just "jealous" of his contract and security in life, and then condescendingly offered Frank the opportunity to use his bandwidth for the FHF podcast, in exchange for "working on [his] ranch planting tomatoes and possibly grapes." Wow.

Crack Corn

Most of the time snack food with anything less than 500 calories and 10g of fat/serving can best be described as "good, but nothing to write home about."

THIS, my friends, is something to write home about - and with only 120 calories and 2.5 grams of fat per 1.5 cup single serving. And it's ORGANIC.

Dude, forget about writing home. Nay, this is something to write BLOGS about. And not just a single entry in the form of a feature; this stuff deserves it's own host site. Like... www.crackiswhackarcherfarmskettlecorn.com

There are truly only but a few things for which I read the nutrition label and then have the following conversation with myself*:
"Ok self. Worst case (and most likely) scenario... You eat the whole bag. That's what, 850ish calories and 15 grams of fat...? Not bad for the WHOLE FREAKIN' BAG! Based on your height, weight, and BMR, that's what, 70% of your total calorie budget? Hmm... maybe if I skip dinner. But wait, I had Subway for lunch and Starbucks this morning. Damn. DAMN! ...Well what if I skip breakfast and my a.m. snack tomorrow??"

Yeah, this could be a problem.

::looks toward the kitchen longingly::

Eff you, Target, for lacing your Archer Farms kettle corn with CRACK.

...Is crack organic?

*other foods with which I sometimes have this inner soliloquy include Peanut Butter Puffins and unsweetened/unsulfered dried mango from Whole Foods

Conversations with the Fiancé

In this edition, the fiancé and I are driving down Sunset Blvd, when we happen to perchance upon a billboard for YMI Jeans, featuring none other than Alexis Dziena... Aka Lolita in the Bill Murray film Broken Flowers. (Yes, I kid you not - her name was *actually* Lolita in the movie.)

The following conversation takes place between 4:45 and 4:46pm, while we wait for the light to turn green.

J: Hey, it's that chick from Broken Flowers.
Me: Ohhh yeah, huh.
J: The naked chick.
Me: Yup.
J: ...She had some great boobs.
Me: Yeah... I think mine are better.
(pause)
(pause while the pause gets knocked up)
(super pregnant pause)
(pause gives birth to baby pause)
(baby pause turns out to be octuplet pauses)
J: Uhm, sure. (optimistically) Ok!


...
I'm sorry... what?
Even if he didn't agree with me, isn't it written somewhere in the preface of the Fiancé Code that if your Bride-to-Be dives into a bucket of crazy sauce and comes back making comments about her fabulous figure, that you're supposed to agree EMPHATICALLY??

Not only that, but when it comes to physical appearance I'm almost never the one to toot my own horn. Growing up in LA - the wellspring of all that is Gorgeous and Thin - I'm actually quite critical when it comes to evaluating my own aesthetics. So for me to make that statement was actually quite bold. And beautiful. Like my favorite soap.

Besides all that, I actually do have fantastic boobies!*
*thanks to a fantastic investment I made 5 years ago

So there. Take that, naked chick from Broken Flowers. You may be a young, rich, famous, hot, long-legged model/actress, but I have boobies. And a fiancé who thinks you're hotter than me agrees that my boobs are better than your boobs. (We'll work on his enthusiasm for them.)

Signed,
Brave Little Toaster
WHO HAS AMAZING BOOBIES

You had me at "Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever."

Rarely is the question asked: Is our children learning?



I'll ask you to reserve judgment until you reach the end of this list.

Highlights from the worst/best analogies of high school students:

1. John and Mary had never met. They were like two hummingbirds who had also never met.
2. The revelation that his marriage of 30 years had disintegrated because of his wife’s infidelity came as a rude shock, like a surcharge at a formerly surcharge-free ATM.
3. He was as lame as a duck. Not the metaphorical lame duck, either, but a real duck that was actually lame. Maybe from stepping on a land mine or something.
4. She was as easy as the TV Guide crossword.
5. The politician was gone but unnoticed, like the period after the Dr. on a Dr Pepper can.
6. She was as unhappy as when someone puts your cake out in the rain, and all the sweet green icing flows down and then you lose the recipe, and on top of that you can’t sing worth a damn.
7. Her artistic sense was exquisitely refined, like someone who can tell butter from I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter.
8. You know how in “Rocky” he prepares for the fight by punching sides of raw beef? Well, yesterday it was as cold as that meat locker he was in.
9. It was an American tradition, like fathers chasing kids around with power tools.
10. He was as bald as one of the Three Stooges, either Curly or Larry, you know, the one who goes woo woo woo.

Who needs veneers when you've got THESE?

(via Jackie)

All I can think of is THE underrated movie of 2007, Teeth.

If, like so many other deprived Americans, you have yet to see Teeth, keep cool my babies: I've got you covered.



Clip via Rotten Tomatoes

Rated "R," so can't embed - click above and enter your birthday. It's worth it.

Suddenly the picture of the squid-not-octopus-dentata creature makes sense.

Can't... Stop... Laughing.

Meet Evan, my super-cool friend Allison's boyfriend.



. . . .

. . .

. .

Meet Allison's cats - aka Nice Cat and Not Nice Cat.

Now see what happens when Evan and Allison's less-than-social cat get together to make a special video Valentine's greeting.

. . . .

. . .

. .

Classic.

Look Ma, I have a penis!

Ding Dong! The Xbox is dead! The XBox is dead! The Xbox is dead!


The boy refuses to acknowledge that he's getting a RROD since technically it's only a quarter RROD. Some E-74 error. For his sake, I hope he figures out how to fix it in an easy and inexpensive manner.... But I won't necessarily complain if it isn't done in a *timely* one.

In other news, my friend Bernadette had a dream last night, and it was a big one.



Behold, our conversation while dining at Garden Wok

Bernie: So there I was in my dream... making out with this guy and we were getting to the point where were obviously going to have sex. At first he hesitated, but I told him I wasn't a virgin and it was ok. So he put his hands on me... And suddenly recoiled back.
"What is it?" I asked.
"THAT'S JUST WRONG!"
And he kept yelling about going to hell and stuff... So I looked down... and there it was. I mean I was a girl, but I had a penis. A PENIS! I freaked out and went to tell my mom. "Mom," I said, "I have both parts!"
"Ohhh yeah. When you were born we weren't sure how you would turn out, so we decided to wait to have the surgery until after you decided which way you were going to end up."
"So why didn't you have the surgery?"
"I guess we forgot."
. . .insert maniacal yanking gesture. . .
"HOW DO YOU FORGET SOMETHING LIKE THIS?!"

Thanks Bernie, for making my brown rice and egg roll evening just a tad more interesting.

Best Wishes!

I recently submitted to be an official advice guru for a national magazine aimed at young people.

Feeling emboldened by my new-found inner Miss Cleo, I decided to leave a comment for the infamous Octuplets Mom, Nadya Suleman.



Though I did offer my criticisms, I tried to keep it constructive. I'd offer up the text, but in my infinite genius I accidentally copied over the copy/paste with something extraneous. (OYE!)

In a nutshell, I tried to keep it positive for two reasons: one, you catch more flies with honey, and two - those kids need all the well-wishing they can get. I mean seriously. Can you even imagine what those 14 kids are up against? If we don't wish their crazy mom the best, then there's little hope for the poor kids, who will undoubtedly pay for her poor decision making skills.

So by all means, wish Nadya Suleman well. Send good vibes her way. If she succeeds, then those kids succeed, which means we all succeed. Yes.