That's quite a USP!

Thirsty? Call this dude. He apparently has access to some mighty fine drinking water (after he cleans your persian rug).


I'm sticking to diet coke. Thanks.

Lock me up in this refrigerated case

Ever have a heck of a day? The kind of day that when you get home you want to stick your face in a plate of cupcakes?

I had that day today.

Lord, how I long for a cupcake....a photo will have to do.

Just say it straight...

My friend Amy has never been one to mince words. She will say it like she sees it. For example, after having labor induced 3 times over the last 2 days, she finally told her very proper English doctor,

"Look, if you want this kid to come out, you are going to have to go in and get him".

And that is just what the doctor did. Congratulations Amy & Kevin on the addition of little Connor Kirk!

I can tell my cashmere is cowering

Check out this critter that I encountered while walking through my company's warehouse on the way to the lunchroom. I swear every sort of winged, antennae-wearing creepy crawly that is in North Carolina weighs about a pound each.

I had to go back to my desk and get my personalized ruler to get some scale on this giant moth so one could understand it's size.

This guy could probably decimate my sweater drawer in 30 seconds flat.

See Joe McGann?

My pal Joe McGann is currently living over in India for a year. The other day he came across a Cobra situation on the street in Guragoan and told me the story. Imagine my glee when I was able to swap a big snake story with him.

Of course he wanted a picture for proof - so Joe McGann, today's posting is just for you.

It's of me and 2 new friends I found in Morocco.

I can't help myself sometimes, if you have been my victim, my apologies

I think sometimes I'm like this monkey...

Probably another exhausting night in dreamland tonight

As I go through reading my daily favorite sites on the internet, the false news posted of French actor Jean Reno having a heart attack filled me with dread. Dread because a film star that I admire may be ill?

No.

Dread because the dream will probably come to me tonight. Since about 1989, I have had a re-occurring dream starring Jean Reno (as his character Enzo in The Big Blue - a movie about competitive free diving) that shows up every couple of months. Is it like clockwork that the dream turns up?

No.

Is it the same dream?

No.

It's usually a very detailed escapade in which this Enzo character shows up in weird situations and either helps or distracts me. He's never evil or dangerous, but generally it's kind of a pain in the ass. He's turns up in his wet suit in the weirdest places.

Ask my friends Mike, Jody or Lori, they will confirm that I have been boring them with the telling of my Enzo dreams for almost 20 years.

I've always been a colorful dreamer, in full color with precise detail. Last night was a mental workout, as I had 4 specific, colorful separate dreams which involved 4 different groups of people from work that didn't involve work in any way. My dreams are so active almost every night, sometimes I feel like I have all my mental energy drained out of me when it's time to wake up.

Do I want to be a person with black and white, vague dreams? No. I'm glad I get to remember them, and I am glad I get to bore those close to me with my recounting of dreams.

Why? Because I can.

The silent scream

What I looked like during my ride back from the beach with my friend Jessica behind the wheel.

I made it back in one piece...surprisingly.

The inanimate - animated

I have always projected personalities upon inanimate objects. I have since I was a kid. Could be an aftershock from the Disney-fying of my childhood - where a multitude of inanimate objects would come alive in movies and cartoons, implying they had thoughts and emotions, a la Herbie the Love Bug.

This personality projection manifests it in a variety of ways - too extensive for me to detail without boring you to death. I chalk it up to having an overactive imagination.

As I have mentioned before, I lived with my Gay Hubby for over 7 years, and in his main bathroom, there is a sink with a face within it. I'm not talking "potato chip with the face of the virgin mary on it" face within it, the kind that would get sold on Ebay - I'm saying the design of the sink is such that it looks like a face.

Every night when I was getting ready for bed, washing my face and brushing my teeth - I looked into the bathroom sink and saw this face staring back at me. Kind of like a stoner dude - with a blank silver eyed stare, and a slack open mouth and a frequently runny nose-like spigot.

A possible brush with death

My life passed before my eyes last night.

I just finished eating some dinner consisting of brown rice, hummus, onions and avocados (sounds weird, but I'm weird, so stop judging).

As I put the Hummus container away, I saw the expiration date. "Use by 7/25/08 7:25 PM". I overshot the freshness by 10 days and 30 minutes.

I may perish from this perishiable.

If I don't post anytime soon - you will know, it's because of the hummus.

I'm not always alone in my thinking...

It never failed.

Everyday, when the bus drove by this building on the way to classes at the University of Minnesota, I would see the chiseled sign above the doorway of this building just off the campus.

Viniversity Storehovse Shops. I would repeat it in my head, after I saw it.

I realize the building was built long ago - and the right thing to do was to use a V instead of a U (god bless the old timers modeling the sign after the Greeks or the Romans or who knows what culture)at the time it was built, but now, it's a bit unique and stands out to the typical late 20th century student.

When I back in MPLS this summer, driving around Dinkytown (the name of the area outside of the campus on the east bank of the Mississippi) with Gay Hubby and friend Jody, I knew we were about to approach the building known to me as Viniversity Storehoves Shops. I started saying it out loud, knowing that we would pass it soon. GH said "what are you saying, you sound like a loon" to which I told the tale of my daily pass by of the building and how the name would get stuck in my head. Both he and Jody thought I was a lunatic. I disagreed. I said that I bet a bunch of people thought the same thing as I did.

A hearty debate of of their "no way" to my "uh huh" pressed on for a minute and I said - I'm calling my sister to see what she says. My sister Shelly went to the U of MN and once worked there as well, so she was well versed in the layout of Dinkytown.

I called her up and said "Shelly, you know that brick building across the street from Coopers Union?" She replied "you mean Viniversity Storehoves Shops?"

I then rested my case.

It feels good to be right. Oh yes, it feels good.

What you can get me for Christmas

Wake me up before you go go

Tonight was the big night to go see George Michael with Gay Hubby in all of George's retro tour glory.

Here are 5 great things about the concert:
1) George sounded phenomenal. His pipes sound just as good as they did in the 80's!

2) The stage was quite fantastic. It was a giant LCD screen that he and his back up singers danced on, and there were light shows and video that corresponded with the songs he was singing.

3) George still looks good - he rocked some fabulous drapey wide legged trousers, a hot pair of jeans, and then got dressed up in a cop uniform which was extra campy goodness.

4) Dude can still DANCE! Holy cow, he has got some serious moves. They aren't super acrobatic, but he can do a shimmy and a shake that can set the world on fire. Both Gay Hubby and I commented on it, and agreed that our friend Suneel has some similar moves to George.

5) His back up singers were fantastic, and he rolled credits on the big screen at the end of the concert to recognize his band and crew which I thought was pretty cool.


Here are 5 not so great things about the concert:
1) George's stamina is not what it used to be. He frequently resorted to the "stick the microphone into the crowd so they can sing this part and I can catch my breath" move. It got to the point that Gay Hubby said "I didn't pay to hear the crowd sing".

2) George seemed disappointed in us that we weren't chanting his name with a raucous enough passion. I think George is used to the rabid English Wembley stadium fans that screech, fight and rip apart stadium as a mass of 90,000. Here in MN, the crowd was smaller (probably 20,000), a little more reserved (mostly of Scandinavian descent), and well mannered (a midwestern quality that we all seem to possess).

3) George made us beg for encores. This drives me crazy. The artist knows how many encores they are willing to do - and know that they are going to do them. It seemed indulgent that he made us clap and hoot and holler for a good 5 minutes each time before he came out. I think George might not like George so much, and is suffering from low self esteem. George needs a hug.

4) George started late. Concert was supposed to start at 8 - there was no opening act, and it didn't start until 8:45. I R R I T A T I O N.

5) He wasn't sure the name of the city that he was in. He warmed up the crowd with "Hello Minneapolis" which isn't really right, as we were in St. Paul. After the intermission (yes, intermission - another indicator that George needed a rest) his handlers must have told him that he was in St. Paul, so he kept saying "Thank you St. Paul". Yes the Twin Cities is made up of both Minneapolis and St. Paul, but it felt a little like when my parents always call me by my sister's name. Yes, my sister and I are both daughters of our parents, but we do have different identities - much like Minneapolis and St. Paul. (I'm Minneapolis in this situation, my sister Shelly is St. Paul)

All in all, it was a fantastic evening - all thanks to GH Mike - he is truly the best!

I will rank this concert definitely in my top 8 concerts - possibly even in the top 5.

If you like rankings, check out the top 10 list on George Michael that was published recently in the San Francisco Chronicle at www.sfgate.com - just search for top 10 George Michael(thanks Joe Mcgann for the heads up!)

Do you smell something?

Today was another day in flight for me. I flew up for a week long vacation in the delicious Twin Cities. Of course, the biggest trial and tribulation of traveling anywhere for me is getting through the Raleigh/Durham airport security without some sort of incident.

If you remember last time, I was accused by the security checkpoint officers of having an artificial hip and lying about it. This time I was assaulted, or should I say my senses were assaulted by a fellow passenger just trying to get through.

Traveling today was a group of teenage boys, all dressed up alike in some sort of soccer themed gear. They were kind of scruffy, kind of geeky, with messy hair and oily skin. As they worked their way through the security process, I was tucked into the last security checkpoint station with 4 of the kids.

As a person who has done a fair amount of traveling, I know what to expect, had my computer out of my bag, in a bin, shoes off (wearing shoes easy to get in and out of) and wearing clothes that don't look like I am hiding 4 Kilos of plastic explosives. The guys maybe didn't have as much experience as me, so I had to find my inner zen to be patient while watching then fumble about to try and get organized to put their things through the x ray machine.

I was just a few feet away from being able to place my laptop bin on the conveyor belt as scruffy soccer kid #4 was still getting his stuff on the belt. As I stood and waited patiently, something wafted up to my nose. I looked around to try and identify the offending odor. Was it me? Nope, just smelled perfume on me. Was it a rotten salami sandwich? Nope, no sandwich to be seen. I looked down and Scruffy #4 had taken his shoes off and they sat on the ground. I wondered - could it be his sneakers? Nothing that foul could be that strong - wafting all the way up to my nose (I was taller than usual too, wearing platform wedge sandals). Scruffy #4 bent down, picked up his shoes and put them on the conveyor belt just in front of me. The drifting aroma from his shoes just about knocked me on my ass.

As I waited for his stuff to go through - especially the shoes, my eyes begin to water, and I felt like I could taste what I was smelling. They finally got into the x ray chamber I hoped that the x rays zooming through his shoes were killing any of the micro-organisms that were waging war on my nasal passages.

As I followed him through the metal detector, I breathed through my mouth, hoping that it would all be over soon. Of course, he had some sort of metal device in his back pack that was suspicious (he said it was to remove the cleats on his soccer shoes) which then required a search of his bag. The poor security officer looked mortified that she had to go through the back pack (which had a pair of soccer shoes stuffed in the top) to identify the issue.

I hope she had a haz-mat suit to put on to dig through his bag. I ske-daddled as soon as I could because I didn't want to be around when the main zipper was unzipped.

It wasn't a mother f*ckin walk off

It was Tuesday.

I was part of a group that was presenting a new change to my company's brand, which required me to change into special t-shirt that was part of the planned theatrics.

To get back to my desk, it requires me to walk down a main 'hallway' which is flanked by banks of low cubes (waist height) on either side. Everyone sitting at their desk can see who is going up and down the aisle.

As I began to walk to the other end of the aisle to get to my desk, the president of our company was at the opposite end of the aisle. He is a guy with a dry sense of humor and likes to make jokes. He smiled at me and seemed to be laughing as the two of us approached each other in the aisle-way.

Since Zoolander is one of my favorite movies, I assumed it was the president's too, and that he was challenging me to a mother f*ckin walk off (as portrayed in today's clip). I began my strut toward him, kind of walking like a weird pony - the way that Miss J teaches all the girls on America's Next Top Model.

As the president approached me he said "Missy, I thought perhaps you could give me one of those shirts" - referring to my new theatrical uniform. I responded to him "oh, I thought you wanted to have a walk off" which left him very puzzled. My face turned red, and a retreated with the chant "uncomfortable" running through my head.

I went and found him a shirt, but by then, he refused, most likely because my earlier behavior was freaking him out.

I raised my profile in one weird way that day.

Mamma Mia

This is the song that has been in my head for the last 4 days. It started after seeing the preview for the new movie "Mamma Mia" starring Meryl Streep - who appears to spend much of the movie in overalls, which should be interesting.

Am I irritated by this ABBA mental invasion? Not really, as I am an ABBA lover. How could one not love them? Good beat, fabulous outfits, and hairdos that most would say are hair-don't's (bless little Bjorn with his modified mullet). I've seen the musical "Mamma Mia", I've got all their greatest hits, and have even gone to see Bjorn Again - an ABBA tribute band.

I associate people with ABBA songs too, for example, every time I hear Dancing Queen I think of my friend Ada as it's her personal theme song, Waterloo for GH maybe because he can be as tyrannical as Napoleon, and Fernando for my mom - because I remember her trying to explain what the lyrics meant when I was 7 years old.

My company is expending a lot of energy to improve working conditions for the team - I think in lieu of a Yoga room which is in the plans - I'm going to suggest an ABBA room. Talk about giving a morale injection! It's foolproof I believe.

My mental ABBA song just changed from "Mamma Mia" to "I have a dream".

Make tomorrow an ABBA-RAMA in your life.

Do they have to call it pudding?

Every morning I see an advertisement for this stuff, and it makes me feel like I'm from outer space.

Seriously? Internal organ pudding? I will stick with J-E-L-L-O.


Now there is more for those who really dig it.

I blame my OCD on John-Boy

I have a personal quirk - a curiosity if you will.

I have a ritual when I iron something.

Once my ironed item is freshly pressed, I reach down and unplug the iron saying out in a clear voice (to no one) "I HAVE UNPLUGGED THE IRON". Why do I do this? Because a secret fear of mine is to leave the house with the iron plugged in, and then the house burns down due to the iron overheating.

"Why don't you get an iron with an automatic shut off Missy?" you ask? I do have an iron with an automatic shut off, but WHAT IF IT FAILS? Then the house still burns down. By saying it out loud to myself, I don't have to question myself on my way to work "did I turn off the iron? I turned off the iron right? I don't remember turning off the iron..." over and over. I would drive myself mad and would have to return home to make sure it's turned off.

Why this crazy fascination with the house burning down? Because when I was around 8 years old, I remember the episode of the The Walton's where the house burned down because either
1) Grandpa left the electric heater on by the tub
2) Pa forgot to manage the embers the pot belly stove in the kitchen or
3) John-Boy snuck one of Pa's cigars and didn't put it out properly.

Seeing the horrors of the fire on the poor Walton family shook me to my very soul. As a result of watching that show, I started my own personal watch over my family household, getting up in the middle of the night every night to do "the rounds" checking each room to make sure that there were no items in each room that were in potentially combustible situations.

My parents put up with this wacko behavior for a while, but finally my mom said - "Knock it off, or else I'm sending you to a psychiatrist". I stopped doing my psycho rounds and melded back into a fairly normal child. Every once in a while, my Walton's inspired fear of household fire will crop up - usually in the form of iron management.

I decided to roll with my quirk - it could be worse, I could be on crystal meth or something...

A room with a view

This is the view from bed in the guest room at GH's house. His decorating style is impeccable, and a single girl like me can always appreciate a photo vignette featuring the delicious Viggo Mortensen and the dashing Anderson Cooper. Gay husband has such good taste, featuring hot guys and cool friends. It's innate I guess, he's always been a decorating superstar - even back years ago when we lived together.

Check out the ghost in the friend group picture to the right of Anderson Cooper. I'm the one that is glowing white like Casper the friendly ghost. I look like an albino in a bad Liza Minelli wig.

Life is a cabaret old chums...life is a cabaret...

Another indication that I am turning into my mother

My mom is a fun chick. She has a great sense of humor, is opinionated and is a hoot to talk to.

One of my mom's personality quirks that I remember from my childhood is her extreme dislike of a Minneapolis newscaster by the name of Cindy Brucato. I remember many a night where the news may have been on in the background and Cindy was interviewing someone or reading the news. My mom often would say "oh she is such a puke" (which means "I'm not a fan of this person") or she would imitate the awkward interviewing style of Ms. Brucato.

While my mother didn't like to Cindy's style as a newscaster she always watched.

The other morning, as I was getting ready for work, I was listening to the Today Show for my dose of news and info-tainment. Imagine my surprise when I caught myself looking in the mirror and making fun of Meredith Viera (whom I can't stand) saying that she was reporting from Beirut, when actually she was in Beijing. I went on a rant (to myself) and caught myself doing exactly what my mom would do when she would rant about Cindy. I laughed to myself a little bit, and decided to embrace my future as a newscaster critic.

But seriously. Meredith Viera is sooooo irritating. She talks over people, asks stupid questions and doesn't listen to her interviewees...not that I have an opinion or anything.

TWITTER WHORE

Hi, My name is Missy and I Twitter. That's the first step right? Except I don't think I have a problem...I Twitter once a day. That's not too much right? OMG maybe I should do it every other day? I'm going to go tweet about it right now.

It could be worse, I could be in Riyadh

It's official, I'm melting. At 9:11 PM it's still 99 degrees.

It is so frickin' hot in North Carolina, that my actual flesh has melted off my bones and is in a puddle on the floor. Although I am a liquid, I am still able to successfully navigate the internet, so I decided to take a little look at the other temps around the world to see how Raleigh compares: Today temps are as follows:

Alger, Algeria 73 degrees
Bujumbura, Burundi 84 degrees
Cairo, Egypt 99 degrees
Kumasi, Ghana 89 degrees
Antananarivo, Madagascar 78 degrees
El Aaiun, Western Sahara 79 degrees
Kabul, Afghanistan 94 degrees
Jamalpur, Bangladesh 89 degrees
Beijing, China 86
Guraguon, India 96
Tehran, Iran 91

I'm sure if I knew someone in Riyadh, Saudia Arabia they would say I was a whiner, because they hit 112 degrees today. But you know what - that's a dry heat, and down here in the NC it's about as moist as a Betty Crocker cake with pudding in the mix. Guess what, tomorrow has more in store - it's going to be 101 degrees.

Okay, now it's time to re-solidify myself. Wish me luck.

One way ticket to crazy town

Check out this dude wigging out in a Russian office. Their cubes are more "cube-ish" than the ones in my office. So far, no freak outs like this here in North Cackalack....

What's Your Personal Theme Song

Curses to George Lucas. His company theme song/set of sounds that are enhanced by this dramatic lemur's actions makes my skin crawl. If I'm in a movie theater and hear this, I have to stick my fingers in my ears.

My personal theme song is much more pleasant. It's "love is all around" a.k.a the Mary Tyler Moore theme song.

What's your personal theme song?

A sad day for fashion....

Sad story today...the highly creative and glamorous Yves Saint Laurent died today. My fashionista friend Kristen is very sad. I remember the days when we were teenagers reading Vogue and W magazine in her bedroom talking about all of the fabulous fashion designers - Karl, Calvin, Ralph and Yves...

I made it...just under the wire

It was just 30 days ago when I challenged myself to post on my blog every day in May. I did it amazingly enough. Some days (as I'm sure you could tell) it was a struggle to come up with content. Now the question is - can I sustain it?

We shall see....we shall see

I think I have bad karma

Seriously.

Today has been a roller coaster, running the gamut of great to horrible. Unfortunately, it ended on horrible rather than great. I'm going to bed, so this day will be over and hoping that tomorrow is an improvement.

ugh.


Anyone have any good ideas on how to make myself more good karmalicious?

I need help people.

Here's a fact you may not know

Did you know that there are only 3 cemeteries in San Francisco? 2 for people, and one for pets. This is the final resting place for some awesome hamsters, a real cute kitty and a variety of other loveable creatures. I'm not quite sure what sort of creature named Missy is buried there - but I'm sure that it was an awesome pet. How could it not be with a name like that?

Wouldn't it be nice?

Wouldn't it be nice to always have a super fan in your corner? A person that told you that you were AWESOME! whenever you needed it? I could have used one today. I came across this Super Fan in Minneapolis. Might have to call him and see if he does Super Fan calls out of state and schedule a visit.

What my workday was like today...

Does every moment have to be memorable?

I had a not so memorable Memorial day
- hiding out
- undercover
- laying low
- sitting tight
- holed up

and it was quite nice.

What did you do?

Disappointing

Went to see the new Indiana Jones movie with my pal Brad.

My review of the movie is...it blows. Of course, if you are the type of person that needs closure in all things, go see it, but only at matinee pricing.

The best thing about the movie was Cate Blanchett's hairdo - which is my dream hair. Unfortunately, I don't look like Ms. Blanchett, so I will have to continue to rock my own personal hair-don't.

Check out everyone's teeth in the final scene too - it's like a giant Chiclet factory - veneers, veneers, veneers. Doesn't anyone have real teeth anymore?

Did you know....

I'm learning something new every day.

I would like to learn about more things that DO NOT involve mucus though.

If you feel a nibble on your toe...

Just a reminder for those of you that love the ocean and may be going to a beach this weekend.

Those that have known me for years know that I have a huge fear of sharks - that includes Saturday Night Live's Landshark. I get chills anytime I see that skit.

I'm lame - but I would be a delectable morsel for any Carcharodon carcharias (a great white shark)

It was a rage cage....

Yesterday was our company's fun day. It was an afternoon picnic where we were able to compete against each other in departmental teams in various events. One event was inflatable boxing - where 2 people got in an inflatable ring with giant inflatable boxing gloves and were giving permission to pound the bejesus out of each other.

It was interesting to see some of the match ups. My friend Kelly got a barrage of hits by a woman using a windmill technique - her arms flailing in a circle in a constant attack. Two VPs boxed each other, each I think taking out some inner office rage out on each other. It ended up as good clean fun, but there was certainly electricity in the air when the two climbed in the ring together.

Our team may have come in dead last overall for the day, but we had the best uniforms and we looked F-I-N-E!

21 Accents

Everyday at work my co-workers and I butcher the english language with our imitations of the English people that we work so closely alongside of. Pretty much every day has conversation had has some sort of Olde English lilt to it - and occasionally we break into cockney. That is a sorry sound and sight let me tell you.

This chick has got her accents down pretty well, I find her quite inspiring. Can you tell where she is really from?

Oy, play the bloomin' clip!

Lost in Translation

I saw this sign when I was at Ike's in Minneapolis (possibly one of the greatest places for brunch ever).

It hit home, because as the person that writes the in-store communications at my company, I often have to translate the UK English version to the American English version because even though we speak the same language, things often are very different.

For example "fanny pack". Saying that sets English people into fits of red-faced laughter.

Next time I see you, I'll explain it to you.

What I feel like today

I'm feeling a little like a jellyfish
- floating through life, riding the current rather than swimming against it
- spineless
- jelly like


I think I'm just tired. Perhaps a nap on the plane will make it better.

Just call me Debbie Downer right?

A new word?

a-den-ture
~noun
1. an exciting or very unusual experience had by those with dentures
2. participation in exciting undertakings or enterprises involving denture-wearers: the spirit of adenture
3. a bold, unusually risking undertaking by denture-wearers; hazardous action of uncertain outcome involving their faux teeth.

As the baby boomers age, and their dental hygiene becomes compromised, industries will have to appeal to their physical foibles to get them to purchase. For example, the travel industry will most likely re-name travel adventures to adentures, creating tourism experiences where the traveler will have access to soft foods, unlimited quantities of Polygrip & Polydent, no matter what their location - on safari in Kenya, in the mountains of New Zealand, or on the streets of San Francisco.

San Francisco, always on the cutting edge, has already started creating tourist knicknacks in anticipation for the aging crowds of the future. Today's featured curio can be found at the Golden Gate Bridge gift shop, on the southern end of the bridge.

Now you see it, now you don't

Today I went down by Ghiradelli Square with some pals to play some bocce ball. It has been the first day since I have been in SF that the weather is 'typical' in it's special way - meaning, gorgeous blue skies, 65 degrees and breezy. Our bocce ball courts overlooked Alcatraz. The bay was full of activity with sailboats cruising around everywhere. It looked like this:


Within 15 minutes of this picture being taken, a blanket of fog began to roll over all in its way in the bay. It was totally cool. It looked like this:



It had a very ominous Jamie Lee Curtis slasher movie feeling to it. I was digging it. However, my hair was not. I used a flat iron today to rock a straight hair look, however the fog overruled and assigned me a TWA (a Teeny Weeny Afro). No worries, bad hair is worth it to be back here.

I'm just getting my toes done, I'm just getting my toes done

Location: San Francisco
Activity: Getting a pedicure
Situation: have to get naked for it

I am in San Francisco on wee vacation. While here, I decided to pop into a spa located in a downtown shopping mecca for a pedicure, rather than creating another stop in my busy day and going to the regular place near my apartment.

The spa is a sanctuary in the center of the city, luxurious, with the finest decor. As I signed in for my appointment, I was given a tour by the receptionist to prepare me for my appointment to get my toes painted. As she escorted me through the spa, she showed me the waiting area where patrons could wait for their services. It was a large room with enormous velvet sofas and dim lighting, with a wind chime-ish soundtrack playing in the background. About 20 people, men and women, all of them sitting in fluffy white terry robes, sat sipping water infused with cucumber and lemon and reading magazines (none of them paying attention that they were all buck naked except for a swaddling of highly absorbent terry cloth. Next I was introduced to the 'quiet room' a women only space where women could wait before or after their appointment in a new age/ star trek-ish atmosphere of reclining leather chairs, chenille lap robes and chiffon dividing curtains between each chair. Then we came to the ladies lounge, where they have a cold steam/hot steam/ mud baths/ milk baths/ jacuzzis/full makeup area with makeup and hair styling materials etc. available to all who get a little rumpled by being scrubbed, massaged, moisturized and manipulated during their treatment. This place was LAID OUT! Finally, she took me to the locker area, where she asked my shoe size (i assumed for the little paper flip flops you get post pedicure, and then showed me my locker where I could put my bags and purse(I had been shopping) and to CHANGE INTO MY ROBE.

Now, I'm a shy person. I don't get naked for just anybody. And the fact that I was told to change out of my clothes and become a fluffy white terry robe person disturbed me because I WAS JUST GETTING MY TOES PAINTED. I tried to act cool, and waited for my hostess to leave. Suddenly flashbacks of gym class came hurtling back at me - of changing in the locker room while Ms. Juelhich, our female gym teacher gazed at us. I decided to buck up, be a 21st century woman and change into my robe. I felt very discombobulated in the robe, the belt was twisted, it was showing too much cleavage, and I felt like the Stay-puft Marshmellow Man in the movie Ghostbusters. Due to low levels of fashion confidence, I decided to sit in the quiet room - which was women only. I went in, trying not to disturb the greased up post-treatment spa women. A few eyed me with annoyance as I puttered about trying to figure out how to recline the space age leather recliner (there is a secret knob) and decide where to put the sensitive chenille blanket (because I was hot in my sweltering terry cloth tomb) and putz about with a copy of SELF magazine, squinting to read because it was too dark to see, and too hard to quietly flip pages without disturbing others.

After 5 minutes in the quiet zone and the spa patron's withering looks, I decided to buck up and join the living and be brave. I decided to go and sit with in the co-ed area in my terry cloth robe because I realized that I was being a wuss and would never see these people again anyway.

I looked in the mirror, adjusted my robe to be it's most flattering, and then walked with confidence out to the co-ed waiting room. I was going to work my terry cloth stay-puft action.

I walked out there - and everyone was gone.

After all that build up and mental preparation for naught, I hate to say it but I was disappointed.

I was in my own Glass Case Of Emotion today

The above expresses my inner turmoil experienced this morning when the ticket agent at the airport told me I was 2 minutes late in checking in for a flight to San Francisco - a flight where I had been upgraded to first class.

I was rebooked on a flight, sitting in the back of the cattle car...with all the other cows.

I want that time back

As I'm preparing today's post I'm watching the season finale of my favorite guilty pleasure "America's Next Top Model". There were magic moments tonight, and it's share of putrid ones. A quick rundown:

Magic:

• getting to see once again 'how to smile with your eyes' as illustrated by Tyra
• hearing Mr. Jay continually saying at the final runway show "you have got to stomp it to the death" - which may become my new motto
• seeing hot boys in Versace briefs and eyeliner walking the runway in the runway show
  

Putrid:

• Listening to Paulina Porizkova hate on the fatter model Whitney
• Tyra's weave
  
• the "on a very special episode of 'The Facts of Life'" type discussion at the very end about how Whitney can now have high self esteem as a chubby chick because she won AMERICA'S NEXT TOP MODEL!!!!!!!!!!!

I'm guessing that the editor was on crack because the show, which normally would be a 2 hour extravaganza, was cut down to a wee little hour presentation. There were no sensitive, reflective moments of the two finalists sitting on a monument or scenic overlook in a fabulous foreign city contemplating their futures of stomping down runways and concentrating on extending their neck in photos. There was no final review of all of the photos taken and analyzed down to the expression of every eyelash.

I feel robbed of the experience, because all 9 other finales delivered, where this one did not.

Dear Tyra Banks.
Please return that 55 minutes of my life that was wasted on your show's season finale. Feel free to return it in 5 minute increments or in a bulk sum. The choice is yours on how you give it back. Just know that you ain't getting anymore of my time on your sad-ass finales.

Thank you,
MF

I heart my i-pod....my whole i-pod

Today my friend Brad came into work, excited about what he was listening to on the radio during his commute. Today's topic on the radio show was "what song are you embarrassed to like". Brad asked me the question, and I ran through my i-tunes library in my head - what do I have that embarrasses me? I threw out to Brad that it would probably be a Barry Manilow tune, but then said that nothing really embarrassed me. Over the course of the day, I've been compiling a mix of songs that were kind of embarrassing to me - kind of a secret shame playlist that I wouldn't want to be caught singing to at the top of my lungs (which is what I do generally when I'm driving by myself) in my car with the windows rolled down.

Here's my playlist:

Reminiscing - Little River Band

Weekend in New England - Barry Manilow

Pop Goes My Heart - Hugh Grant

You won't see me - Anne Murray

Midnight at the Oasis - Maria Muldaur

Forever in Blue Jeans - Neil Diamond

Xanadu - Olivia Newton John

Dance with Me - Orleans

Stars are Blind - Paris Hilton

The lady is a Vamp - Spice Girls

Flowers on the Wall - The Statler Brothers

I go Crazy - Paul Davis

All By Myself - Eric Carmen

Please Come To Boston - Dave Loggins

The Stroke - Billy Squier

Can't Stand Losing You - Andy Williams

Life is a Flower - Ace of Base

Scanning this list I have created, I seem to have a secret love of ballads from the 70's. Not sure why they are so ingrained in me - could be that I had a brother and sister that were teens in the 70's in my impressionable early childhood years. I love these songs, I have them in my i-tunes. I just don't want others to think they are favorites of mine. On second thought - I'm going to own it.

Hey world, check out my no longer secret shame playlist.

I just might put it on i-tunes as a custom i-mix.

Just call me DJ MissAY.

Surly Spice - just a year ago

It was a year ago that I was traipsing around the highlands of Wales with Gay Husband (aka GH) and my pal Jody. GH was working over there in the thrilling industry of credit card marketing, enabling the citizens of the UK to go further into debt. Jody and I went over there, because it's sad when one doesn't get to see their GH regularly, and because we long to march up and down inside the ruins of castles from the 1100's. Today's pic is of GH looking surly yet fabulous along a highland stream in Wales. So rugged, so fantastic, so perturbed that his photo is being taken. If GH was a Spice Girl, his spice name would be Surly Spice.

He's surly and delicious - he's surlicious.

An apology to my mother

Mom, if I ever acted like this in any way during my formative teenage years, I would like to sincerely apologize..

You are the best mom on the planet Joyce Ann!

Love, your koogle bear

I'm more of a 'one leg at a time' kind of girl

An inspiring way of amping up the art of an everyday task.

A new gremlin

Just found out today that one of my best pals ever, Amy, has a wee baby on the way. She likes to refer to it as a gremlin, which tickles me to no end. I'm very excited for her and her delicious hubby Limes (a nickname - he's English, therefore a Limey, real name is Kevin) as now they will have a little person wreaking havoc around the house.

I can't wait till the Gremlin starts talking, because if it is anything like it's mother, it will be saying some outrageous, hilarious things!

Congratulations to Amy and Limes!

So dreamy....

So what cartoon character do you think is the dreamiest?

Are you a fan of Dr. Quest of Jonny Quest? How about Aqua Man? Maybe Fred from Scooby Doo? Think Homer Simpson is a dreamboat?

I like my cartoon characters manly and rugged. If I was a cartoon woman, my rugged cartoon dreamboat would be able to fight a bear, or catch a poacher. Who would be my perfect cartoon match? Mark Trail of course. There is no hunkier, manlier cartoon around. If Mark Trail was on E-Harmony.Com I'm sure we would come up as a perfect match.

My friend Elizabeth's grandfather is the artist that draws Mark Trail, so maybe she could arrange an introduction. I will have to see if she can pull some strings. Maybe her grandfather could draw a cartoon version of me, and put me in the cartoon as Mark's new squeeze.

See you in the funny papers!

I met an "B" actor from a movie today

This evening I was retrieving something from the trunk of my car when someone caught my eye. I looked to the left and saw a "b" actor standing to my left. Unfortunately it was an actor whose performance I was not a fan of. Ever seen the movie Arachnaphobia? It had to have been one of the main antagonists of the flick. It was an enormous black hairy spider about the size of Reese's Peanut Butter Big Cup. Doesn't sound very big? Let me assure you this thing was enormous, and looked like it wanted to take a big chomp out of me.

He was hairy, fuzzy, and watching me as I was assessing whether or not I was going to squish him. As I think it is bad karma to kill other things, and because I would need to have Army issue combat boots to take this bad boy out, I let him move on. Now I fear that he is going to be setting up a club house in my garage with all of his bad ass buddies to hang in. I would not be surprised if he belongs to some sort of Spider gang. I couldn't see what colors he was sporting, no tattoos or bandanas were visible from where I stood - however, that doesn't mean that he isn't a Crip, a Blood or a Vice Lord.

Today's picture is of a spider I found outside of my front door last year, but this is a good spider, that eats mosquitos and other annoying little buzzy things. This gentle giant, while scary looking, had my back. He probably has a little cranberry beret, like a Guardian Angel prowling the streets of a big metropolis, fighting bug crime. Hopefully he is lurking in my garden somewhere and I can recruit him to go in and do a sweep of my garage.

If I don't post tomorrow - assume the worst, that I am cocooned in spider silk, hanging from the rafters of my garage. Send help.

I think I need a hug.

A greener way of communicating?

Mr. Fong is a leader on team go green! No post it notes for this guy....he leaves his messages on the ground for his people, no need to recycle his notes.

Today, Mr. Fong wanted to let everyone know that he had a lunch date.

A 4-wheeled Invisibility Cloak

Are you one of the people that thinks that once they sit down in their car and shut the door no one can see what they are doing in the car? Shrouded in a cloak of invisibility?

I am a big fan of people watching, so of course when I am stuck at a long Raleigh stop light, I like to take a moment to check my road neighbors out. Usually it's just someone singing along on the radio, or chatting on the phone. Every once an a while there is a nose picker digging for gold, or some chick putting her face on in her rear view mirror.

The other day was the most obvious case of car invisibility syndrome (CIS) I've seen. A woman, on her way to work, decided to take a moment to do some personal facial grooming - best left done in the privacy of one's home. I watched her rub her face a little bit, looking at her chin in the sunshine as it streamed through her windshield. I thought perhaps she was just an older woman, doing the cursory "this is what it would be like if I got a face lift" move, but no, she was assessing her facial hair situation. She reached over to her passenger seat, and pulled out a scissors, going to town trimming whatever it is she had abundance of. I watched with fascination as she trimmed, trimmed, trimmed.

Now, I understand everyone has things that have to be 'managed' in their personal grooming, but I wonder if the woman I watched would manage her situation differently, if she knew that I was putting the story of the sight that I saw out into cyber-space. I'm not trying to make fun of her, I'm just trying to warn my precious readers to not do anything in their car that they wouldn't do out in the middle of a busy city street.

This public service announcement on CIS brought to you by the Missay Foundation.

The same, but different

Yesterday was the AIDS walk in Raleigh, NC. It was a good day, nice weather, we had a great team pulled together and raised $3,500. I've participated in AIDS walks before, most recently in San Francisco. While there are lots of similarities in the events, there are some differences.

In San Francisco, some of our fellow walkers looked like this:



In Raleigh, some of our fellow walkers looked like this:


The pressure is on for the next AIDS walk I participate in...I hope I can count on another colorful fellow walker - no matter what the species.

How I am hoping my Saturday turns out

Just waiting for my gold dress to finish in the dryer.

A New Auteur on the Scene

Today's post features the newest release from Hughes Pictures. It's a study of feminine politics and how the media escalates conflict between women. Major universities are using it as a case study in their Women's Studies programs. It may be the most important commentary on women to date.

Inspired by a real life conversation

Smokey: So, you know someday we will be at war with the robots

Woody: heh heh, you think that's really going to happen?

S: Yep, The Matrix and The Terminator movies are prophecies.

W: So who are they going to attack first?

S: Anyone on MySpace, Facebook and Linkedin.

W: Come on....you are not serious.

S: Dude...I'm just saying... get off the grid...


the above re-enactment was inspired by a conversation had at Ike's Restaurant, Minneapolis, on Sunday, April 27.

Special thanks to Smokey & Woody for their riveting performances.

I'm a dark cloud threatening a tahitian sunrise

Location: Chambers Hotel Bar in downtown Minneapolis
Occasion: Mike and I reconnecting with our pal Todder, a top cool guy in the universe
Situation: A fashion self-realization, deep down I'm still a goth-lite girl from high school

As we sat and sipped our fabulous cocktails, swapping stories of the goings-on in our lives, I noticed the fellas that I was with apparently read the same fashion brief. Todder was wearing a tremendous shirt featuring the rosy shades of sky one might see watching the sun rise over a south pacific sea. Mike was sporting a crisp Brooks Brother shirt, with a window pane check in a similar shade of sunrise pink. Both looked fresh yet completely manly, perfect in their setting of a hip hotel bar.

What was I wearing? My constant uniform of black with leopard print accents (flats and a scarf). I looked like Mrs. Robinson, on her way to a Cure concert. Koo koo ka choo....I need a new fashion direction. Might not be a sunrise....but I will be working my way away from goth cougar....

A bingo hero

Here is my pal Andrew. He is a smarty pants about many things, except for one. B-I-N-G-O is it's name-o. A group of us were at Drag Bingo(A fundraiser for the Alliance Against AIDS) last Saturday. The game was straight BINGO - either across or diagonally. Andrew got a little excited when he filled up his entire N column (5 numbers called in the N column) and shouted out BINGO! to the crowd. When his card was checked, he was shamed in front of the group, as the game is BINGO! not NNNNN! as his card reflected.

His punishment for false BINGO! declarations was to wear the dunce cap until someone made the same mistake again. He ended up wearing it for a while....but with great aplomb. I won't lie, there was an obvious spring in his step when the next guy did the fake BINGO! call and he got to give up his crown of shame to the new offender.

Andrew is this week's bingo because he was a good sport about wearing his hat, even though he wasn't looking is most supremely macho-iest at the time.

Bravo Mr. Aplin, Bravo!

A history of violence?

Apparently Jesus was a street fightin' man?