Archive for the 'yum' Category

Dylan McOMG

200802031120Warning: This is a really gay fanboy post that ogles Dylan McDermott mercilessly like a delectable cut of Kobe Beef. He is the hottest man alive, and if you disagree with me, then you are wrong. And possibly a little reeree. Move along, nothing to see here.

The TiVo has an anti-screen burn feature: If you let it sit in any menu area for too long it will switch you over to live tv — whatever happens to be on that tuner. Sometimes I get sucked into crap I would never watch. Like Murder She Wrote. And today, its Yet Another Movie in which the dad moves his dysfunctional family out to the countryside, into a spooky creepy farmhouse being haunted by the previous and late occpuants that only the children can see. I really dislike movies in this vein not only for rehashed storylines, but because they tend to build and release tension with 50dB blasts.

I like a good horror movie, but these bore me and give me a headache, so I don’t watch them anymore. And I think hollywood knows this, and have discovered an effective counter: DILFs (Dads I’d Like To beFriend).

ryan reynoldsFirst it was Ryan Reynolds in The Amityville Horror. He’s a good deal younger than me and very much a one off hotness thing for me. The combination of superhero build, cuts all over his face, being angry all the time, and the Best Beard Ever allowed him to slip through my twinky filter.

dylan mcdermottDylan McDermott , on the other hand… well, I’ve always been a giggling fanboy for him. First in Steel Magnolias, crawling through that crying chick’s window in a pair of shorts with the hottest legs ever, later in Home for the Holidays (this is going to sound stupid) drinking orange juice from a bottle in a way that made my toes curl, (… everything he has ever been in…) and now in this dumb The Messengers movie.

I can’t look away, because I might miss Dylan (aka my next ex-husband) doing something that will make me feel funny in my dangerzone. Like opening a letter, tying his shoelace, using a styptic pencil, or doing his taxes. Damn you Hollywood.

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The weirdest Orangina commercial you’ll see this day^H^H^Hyear

via laughingsquid

Clothing Swap @ CELLspace January 19th, 2008!

200712271606The first swap of 2008 is at CELLspace, and will be so awesome that it’ll make you question your preconceived notions of “awesome” and start referring to all the stuff you used to call “awesome” as “at best, somewhat awe-inspiring.”

What: Sweet! The first clothing swap of 2008!
When: Saturday, January 19th, noon-3pm
Where: CELLspace (2050 Bryant St. between 18th & 19th) map How Much: $5 ($10 without clothes) (Read More or visit the Upcoming.org invitation)

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Absinthe Lollipops

These puppies are yummy. My pal Jason makes them.
Lit  Absinthe Lollipops
http://www.litabsinthe.com/

San Francisco’s finest… and I do mean FINE

Officer Matthew Neves of the SFPD, featured in an article in SFGate today. My inner dialog is pure Mae West right now. Mreowrrr.

Sf Gate  Multimedia (Image) - Mozilla Firefox (Build 2007112718)

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SHOES… no wait… BRAINS!


Yay thanks monica!

OMG GIMME MORE SHOES CUZ IT’S BRITNEY, BETCH!

How much do we love a home cooked meal and awesome company?

When I started at my last job I bought a video iPod and started subscribing to a bunch of podcasts. I started listening to:

  1. Fox and the city (which referred me to)
  2. Yeast Radio (which referred me to)
  3. PNS Explosion (still a favorite, which referred me to)
  4. The Daily Purge (still a favorite, cohosted by Rob Lindley who also cohosts)
  5. How Much Do We Love (the primary hostess being Sara)

Then, seemingly randomly, I got an e-mail from Sara asking me why she found pics of a particular corporate christmas party in my flickr stream. Because she was ALSO at that same party, and she is friends with a coworker of mine.

Shortly after that was the next year’s corporate holiday party, and we decided to meet up, drink, and have a fabulous time. We have since hung out a couple of times and are becoming friends.

The internets are a strange and wonderful series of tubes.

Last night she invited me to her new place, and she cooked a fantastic meal: NY Strip Steaks, broiled beets, baby broccoli, fresh corn, and a yummy blue cheese sauce to schmear on anything that would hold still. Even better I got an EXCLUSIVE SNEAK PEEK of the winner of her recent Summer Cocktail Recipe Contest, which I am simply not at liberty to divulge, but I can report was de-effing-licious. I brought the liquor portion (inexpensive vodka, but the bottle was super cute and she loves her some touch-of-fancy, done and done), ice, and mixers.

We also watched the latest very “meh” episode of So You Think You Can Dance, which is normally entertaining, but not so much last night. Almost all of the dancing was underwhelming, yet the judges were screaming and hooting and gushing like I have never seen. We were both wondering if we would have enjoyed it by ourselves, but I am pretty sure that’s not the case. Neil didn’t even take off his shirt to redeem himself. Meh.

Thanks goodness for dessert, which was her fresh made plum cobbler–with plums she plucked from her backyard–served with vanilla whipped cream. That was a nice finish.

Thanks for a wonderful evening, Sara!

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So you think you can dance, and Mia Michaels

I’ve tried to watch American Idol and hated it, because it’s based on a music industry (by which I mean a machine to manufacture pure shit) that panders to the very lowest common denominator. It processes, exploits, and features digital trickery to synthesize a homogenized slurry that has become the depressing norm of popular music, easily covering the embarrassing and painful mistakes of the talentless fame seeking retards who end up on the show. Undoubtedly it has uncovered a few nuggets of talent (Kelly Clarkson A++) I am also undoubtedly hypercritical because I am a trained musician.

I’ve been watching So You Think You Can Dance this season after friends and favorite podcasts shared lots of fun and catty commentary over the past few seasons. At the very least I figured I could ogle hot boys, but it’s a really fun show overall. I am not a dancer, so I’m relatively blind to the mistakes that are probably being made (and making trained dancers alternately cringe, laugh, and gasp in horror.) But I can enjoy the performance value of this, and know that while there might be some editing, the nature of smoke and mirrors in physical media is minimized here. These kids are working their asses off every week, stretching their technique and style into delightful, athletic, and hot entertainment.

Anyway… my real point was tonight’s performance by Neil and Lacie, performing Mia Michaels’ choreography of a very personal story: A very joyful reunion with her late father in heaven.

I cried. Mia cried. Mary (one of the judges) cried. Lots of people in the tv audience cried. It was freaking beautiful, awesome and powerful.

I don’t know if I could or would have cried over a performance like this if my grandmother hadn’t recently died (or both of my cats, or my cousin’s preternaturally smart and charming golden retriever). But I did experience those things, and thought of all of them while watching the piece, and it was A Good Thing.

Thanks Mia, (and, shockingly, thank you Fox) for a moving piece of television.

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The iPhone cometh

2 days early, but shipping from china.

Fedex | Track-1