Cell Phone Cameras Continue to Document Thin Shreds of Reality

This weekend was pretty crunked out, and no, I do not use that term loosey-goosely. It was extremely cranked up, pumped to the max, as far as weekends go, whoa whoa.

First, Halloween occurred but I had to double-time it with the dress rehearsal for the Saturday Bolly dance-stravaganza. However, costumes still happened, natch.

I was the Internet phenomenon, Spaghetti Cat! Well, technically, I was the cat and boyfie was the spaghetti (I cooked real noodles!). Low-maintenance is our mantra. Photo shoot ensued.

Original Spaghetti Cat:

First take, Spaghetti Cat:

Second take, Spaghetti Cat:

Third take, Spaghetti Cat Contemplates Noodles/Life:

Paparazzi Shot #1, Spaghetti Bat(?):

Paparazzi Shot #2, Spaghetti Cat—Up Claws and Purrrr-sonal:

Paparazzi Shot #3, Boyfie Bewitches While Maintaining Privacy:

Paparazzi Shot #4, Boyfie Is Mysterious Stranger:

Then, all of Saturday, dance show happened! It was insane, off the chain, in the membrane! Thank you so much to everyone who came out to see it! I currently only have one photo documenting a final dazzle pose, but use your imagination and/or patience to fill in the rest.


Then I detoxed on Sunday by watching The Omen, a scary movie, in which, well, for lack of a better way to put it, shit goes down. I am unclear exactly how much watching this movie actually realigned my chakras, if at all.

In retrospect, I am pretty mad that Julia Stiles got on the tippy-top of a stool to hydrate roses when she was clearly going to fall several feet after her demon child ran into her with his Razor-esque kick scooter (totally not meant for indoor purposes, btdubs, even if you are the Antichrist). She did go to Columbia after all! She's no dummy.

If you have a nanny, especially a creepy Mia Farrow nanny, you can also afford a no-nonsense maid, a la Mr. Belvedere or Geoffrey from Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. He can water those pesky flowers and prevent inconvenient hospital bills! Yeah, I'm sorry too that I'm trying to transpose logic over a movie about the son of a jackal and his reign of kinder-terror.

In conclusion, yesterday, while perusing a book vending institution, I found the following: Sock Monkey in a Box!!! You're welcome.

Phone-y Business, on a Cellular Level

Isn't it mildly amusing how when someone's on the phone and you're in the vicinity, sometimes they include your presence in their conversation? Or they make phone faces at you?

For instance, if someone's on the phone with their friend on the subway train and they're saying something like "Ohhhhhhh shit" and then they're telling their friend "Haha, everyone on the train thinks I'm crazy" and I look around and no one seems to even notice the presence of the whole conversation. Then i think "Liar."

photo courtesy of Ergocise

Or there's the instances where someone's on the phone and they're making I'm dying of boredom faces at you. I realize that when I'm the one making the faces, I get so wrapped up in "playing the bit" of the sinfully bored one to some impartial spectator that I forget about my phone conversation, and the person on the other end is always saying "Hello? Hello?" and meanwhile I'm rolling my eyes and busy mouthing "Whyyyy do theeeey keeeep talkkking?" The sad part is sometimes I do this when I'm all by myself. To my mirror. Wait! It's not sad. I mean, quite possibly in a realistic sense it is, but as to the state of affairs that constitute my life, it is, how do you say, ah yes, zee norm.