My Own Planet

Suddenly single
I have just been to the grocery store, where I purchased a frozen pizza and a copy of Elle magazine. I have now officially become a "single woman."

I bet neither Bridget nor Carrie ever had to deal with a roommate who leaves a half-eaten bowl of Crispix in the sink before leaving town FOR FOUR DAYS. Or one who takes out the trash but then does not replace the trash bag and in fact hides the trash bags so I cannot find them. I should just be happy he took out the trash.

Things I like
-The color combination of red and baby blue
-Having dreams in which I get to make out with Prince William
-Getting free perfume and lunch at work
-The Temptations' (and only the Temptations') version of "Ain't to Proud to Beg"
-Van Gogh's "Caffe di Notte"
-The fact that I live in a town with competing alternative weekly papers
-"Cheek to Cheek," as sung by the lovely Ella Fitzgerald
-Having my apartment all to myself this weekend

What would Brandon Tartikoff do?
I really wish that NBC would just give Rena Sofer her own series. The woman has guest-starred on practically every series they have, including Ed, Friends, Seinfeld, Caroline in the City, and let's not forget my favorite, the Saved by the Bell Hawaiian movie. Now I read on NBC's Web site that they're adding her to the cast of Just Shoot Me. Come on, NBC! Give the poor girl her own series already!

Of course, I don't know if Rena Sofer is a good enough actress to merit her own series, but I would imagine she is. Why else would she keep getting all these bit parts on other series? All I'm saying is, if someone doesn't do something soon, she could become to the next generation what Jason Marsden was to ours.

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Hey, remember when Adrian tried to buy that Playboy?
Although Adrian was ultimately unsuccessful in his attempt, my roommate, Eric, did in fact purchase a Playboy today on his lunch hour for the special "Girls of the Big 12" feature. Apparently, this has been the talk of the campus back at Mizzou: Paul Underwood and Kristin Buel have both discussed it in their blogs, and my friend and yours, Nate Carlisle, wrote a story about it for the Trib, in which Eric's brother was quoted, no less. (I'm not even going to speculate about why Nate was chosen to write this story over all of the other capable Trib reporters, although I have an idea.)

Anyway, I was curious, so I flipped through Eric's magazine. Although I do wonder, as Kristin did, what would make these girls think that posing nude for Playboy was a good idea, I am not particularly outraged by the whole thing. In fact, I think it's pretty damn funny, especially the poses they put these girls in and the things they make them wear. (Question: Why bother putting them in any clothes at all if they're just going to be stretching them around to show off their various, um, assets? I would imagine this is not good for the fabric.) I'm not even mad at the girl who said, basically, that all the girls at Mizzou are a) bisexual and b) ugly. After all, who's going to take seriously something that was said by a girl who thought it was a good idea to pose nude in Playboy?

Just for the record, I am neither bisexual nor ugly. And neither are any of my friends.

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Thanks for the memories, Dave!
I have realized that, when it comes to drinking, Dave Gustafson is probably the best friend I've ever had. Who else would mix me drinks like Southern Comfort and Hawaiian Punch and forgive me for spilling a screwdriver all over his caller ID while drunkenly attempting to do the Britney Spears dance? And the guy gave me absinthe on my 21st birthday! Besides the fact that it made me black out and also made me feel worse than I ever have in my life the next day, it makes a great 21st-birthday story! Here's to you, Dave Gustafson!

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Simon Cowell is a cold-hearted snake
Actually, I don't mind the nasty comments Simon makes to the American Idol contestants. What I do mind, however, are the sexual innuendoes he makes toward the female contestants. At first it was kind of cute, like when he told Christina Christian he had a crush on her. But what about when he got "mad" at her for having a fiance? And what about last night, when Ryan Seacrest jokingly said that Simon would have to "take on" Kelly Clarkson, and Simon replied, with a husky voice and a gleam in his eye, "Any time"? Ew, Simon. Ew. She is young enough to be your daughter.

At least Randy Jackson hasn't started hitting on the contestants. Apparently, though, Paula Abdul is sleeping with all of them, plus both of the hosts, plus Simon. At least she isn't sleeping with Randy Jackson.

* * * * *

I have become addicted to Pepperidge Farm Lemon Spritzer cookies. This is not actually a new addiction. It started last fall when Adrian (who I can also blame for starting me on Pepperidge Farm Mint Milano cookies) brought out the Lemon Spritzers during a game of Scrabble. I bought him a box for Christmas last year, and it took all the willpower I had not to tear into those babies and pretend I hadn't bought them as a present. I had never bought my own box, though, until Sunday night. I managed to make the box last until this evening, but that took considerable willpower. I probably could've eaten the entire box in one sitting. There's just something about the Lemon Spritzers that makes you crave another as soon as you swallow the first one. Even if you haven't had one in, say, an hour, just thinking about them or, say, writing about them in your blog, makes your mouth ache for that lemony goodness. Aaaaahhhhhhhh! I am going through withdrawal!

What do I love more than Lemon Spritzers? Frank Sinatra.

Good-bye, Barnes and Noble. Hello, Jefferson County Public Library! I got my very own library card today, which presumably will save me beaucoup d'argent (or at least free up beaucoup d'argent so I can buy those fabulous faux-suede pants at Lerner). The only problem is, now instead of getting bestsellers at 30 percent off, I have to wait forever for them to be freed from the greedy hands of other Jefferson County residents. I guess there's no such thing as a free book.

Also, joy of joy, the Murray State News police beat is back! And if you like the MSU police beat, check out the UAB Kaleidoscope. Each brief is a miniature narrative, and they often involve drugs. Journalism doesn't get much better than this, folks.

When did I start saying "later"? I didn't even say "later" in the early '90s. I guess it's not so bad as long as it's not followed by "dude." (Although I do admit that I went through a "dude" phase that one semester when Krithika got to be really good friends with Team 243.)

Anyway, I'm going to bed. Maybe while I'm asleep, the vocabulary fairy (a figure that would probably look something like Christopher Benson in tights with glitter and a thesaurus) will visit me and I'll be cured.

Yes! I have just remembered that there are Skinny Cow ice cream sandwiches in the freezer!

There is no Ani DiFranco song that can accurately describe this emotion.

In the words of Ani DiFranco (from Grey), "What kind of paradise am I looking for? I've got everything I wanted, but still I want more."

Well said, Ani. As always.

My life is a mirror of Seinfeld.

Remember the one where Kramer realized that Calvin Klein had stolen his great idea for a fragrance that smells like the beach? I wonder if the editors of Sleep Magazine will give me a modeling contract.

And to all those who said it couldn't be done: It obviously is being done. By someone who is not me. Damn.

I've become convinced that people hate my skirt.

The skirt in question is my Indian embroidered skirt made of hot-pink irradescent taffeta. (It also has a bustle in the back, for those of you who are unfamiliar with the skirt...although I think it's safe to say that everyone who reads this blog is familiar with the skirt, except for maybe Adrian because he's totally oblivious to things like that.)

Anyway, I used to think that everyone loved the skirt simply because I always get compliments on it when I wear it. (One girl told me I looked like a princess and followed me around a party for the entire night, but I suspect she had her own problems.) However, I realized today that out of the, say, 20-25 people I saw that would be in a position to complement me on the skirt (i.e. women who know me -- men and strangers do not count), only about three of them did. This led me to believe that the other 17-23 people who did not comment on the skirt must not have liked it.

Now before you say that I'm being irrational because maybe the others didn't notice the skirt, let me remind you that this is hot-pink irradescent taffeta we're talking about. There is no way not to notice the skirt. Also, let me just clarify that I do not assume that everyone must hate my clothes if they don't explicitly compliment me on them. This skirt is in a category of its own. It's so unique that you have to comment. And no one is going to say, "Ew, that skirt is so ugly" (again, except for probably Adrian). So the ones who think that say nothing.

I would also like to add that some factors may skew the scientific reliability of this theory, such as if I am in a room with a bunch of women and one of them compliments the skirt, then the others would naturally feel compelled to murmur in agreement. Also, if I mention the skirt, someone might think they have to say something about it, which would most likely be a compliment (although they could always go the "That's an interesting skirt" route).

Finally, I would like to state that none of this matters because I really love the skirt.

Shock. SHOCK. Tamyra has been kicked off American Idol. They say if you don't vote, you haven't earned the right to complain, so that's all I'll say. But let me just re-iterate, SHOCK.

By the way, I realize that it's now passé to be obsessed with American Idol now that The Anna Nicole Show has replaced it as the hit reality show of the summer, but we don't have cable yet and the only channel we get is FOX.

For the answer to the question in my previous post, see Miss K. Jo.

And now for a new feature on the blog: book review! I find that a lot of my friends often ask me what book I'm reading and whether or not it's good. I will now post this information on my blog so that in the future we can converse about more interesting things, such as the weather. (Plus, you will be able to refer back to the blog rather than saying, "I can't remember, did you like such-and-such book?")

Note: Posting of book reviews should not be construed as an attempt by the author of this blog to be anti-social toward friends.

Okay, on with the review. After a self-imposed Barnes and Noble embargo of about a month, I finally broke down the other day and bought 4 Blondes by Candace Bushnell. I read Sex and the City last summer in one sitting, but all I remember about it is that great line that goes something like, "No one has breakfast at Tiffany's or affairs to remember anymore. Instead, we have breakfast at 3 a.m. and affairs we'd like to forget," and also that it made me never want to move to New York.

Candace Bushnell is kind of like F. Scott Fitzgerald, only not nearly as good of a writer and she talks about anal sex a lot more. OK, so she's really not that similar to F. Scott Fitzgerald at all, she just writes about the Hamptons a lot. However, her stories do seem to have a point, something that I felt The Great Gatsby was lacking. I am only about halfway through the book (I've finished the first section, "Nice n Easy," and am in the middle of "Highlights (for Adults)"), but I would recommend it to anyone looking for a light, quick read (and who doesn't mind the occasional comment about anal sex).

Today's quote of the day comes to us from Doug, who says, "It is undoubtedly the finest fusion of monkeys and hamster balls that I have yet encountered."

I can't even begin to comprehend this.

Holly says that John Cusack is "the thinking woman's heartthrob." This makes me wonder what our choice of heartthrobs say about us. Diana, Nikki and Holly all swoon over John Cusack, so they are, obviously, the aforementioned thinking women. Kristen used to have a poster of Brad Pitt over her bed; I'd say that makes her a red-blooded, all-American girl. But what about Kate and me, lusting after lanky British men (Colin Firth and Ralph Fiennes, respectively)? What does that make us?

Right now, I'm listening to David Gray and wishing fall was here already. And also that today was Sunday instead of Monday. I discovered yesterday that in the post-school world, Sunday is actually a great day. You can wake up late and sit around all day reading novels, maybe go swimming for a while, and never have to worry about homework. It's a different feeling from having the summer off, too, because then you know you'll eventually have to start worrying about homework on Sundays again.

Just for the record, I never did any homework on Sundays. I just worried about it.

Does anyone else think that Avril Lavigne looks an awful lot like Lauren Murphy?

Paging Beatrice Maundy: If I'm back, you should be, too. Stop filling out your brother's credit card applications and post to your blog, already!

All right! After a long absence due to a) moving and b) unexplained technical problems, the blog is back! I now have DSL in my home, so get ready for even more rants/random musings/boring recaps of my day. But right now Seinfeld is coming on, so I must give it my undivided attention. Later.

Are you working, blog?