Travel Recap and, Of Course, The Bachelor

Just got back from travels to Mill Valley and Santa Cruz last night. Mill Valley is a picturesque town where my sister got married. Every store there sells wine, sweaters for dogs, or wine and sweaters for dogs. My sister planned everything right down to the last detail, except for the part where the crazy minister at the church they picked brought out a SACK OF PROPS and proceeded to do his tight five in the middle of their wedding ceremony for NO REASON. I guess that's what we'll all wind up remembering about the wedding -- the crazy fucking minister and his paper grocery sack full of gags.

On the way home we drove through Santa Cruz to visit my old college pal Caroline, who is now a fancy doctor of geology there, and spends her days making sweet love to a mass spectrometer and being all smart and shit. It just so happened that we drove through on national pot-smoking holiday 4-20. We wandered downtown looking for weird hippies celebrating, and found the smallest, saddest little celebration of like a few hundred people standing in a circle staring at three stiltwalkers dancing around listlessy as some guy rapped. Apparently the real celebration was on campus, but we decided that really a celebration where ABSOLUTELY NOTHING IS HAPPENING is the perfect 4-20 event.

Also, did anyone watch The Bachelor last night? Did anyone see Shayne's mom's face? This is the only appropriate comparison, right?



Janice from The Muppets

And Off She Goes..

A mere three days from now my little sister Maggie is tying the knot. My bridesmaid's dress is being tailored, the airline tickets are booked, and the rental car is ready. And yet! There is a little part of me that expects to get to the airport in Oakland, and someone will tell me that the ceremony is called off, because Maggie is still a toddler. The one I babysat all the time. Or the five year old on videotape who runs onto the screen and yells make-up! and socks my other sister in the face with a big white pillow. She's still the eighth grader who would eat big bowls of Cheerios and talk about guys she liked. She's the captain of the cross-country team. The Berkeley sorority girl. The single lady in San Francisco.

The baby my mom brought home from the hospital. The little one with all the dark hair.

cannibalizing my other blog

In case you haven't been to visit us at AlisonandWendy.tumblr.com, here's what we're talking about:

ALISON: there is a marilyn monroe sex tape that's been found showing her performing oral sex

WENDY: i heard.
i love that the guy who bought it won't show it
TO PROTECT HER DIGNITY

ALISON: right

WENDY: like
yeah, she's been allowed so much dignity in the past
let's keep that up

ALISON: I wish it was a nancy reagan sex tape
because I'm hot for Nancy

WENDY: i wish it was a jenna jameson sex tape

ALISON: if only that existed

WENDY: I'm going to announce that i've found a jenna jameson sex tape and i'm selling it for 1.5 mill

ALISON: but you won't show it

WENDY: yeah

ALISON: I wonder who the guy in the monroe tape is

WENDY: john adams
it's a cross promotional viral video
with Turner Classic Movies and HBO

ALISON: you click on the link...and get rickrolled!

Rock Chalk!

Well, our beloved KU Jayhawks did it, and I'm naming all of my babies Mario Chalmers. I love college basketball, and it's about the only sport I can really get into. For further evidence, enjoy this re-run of a little thing about football I did for McSweeney's.

A FOOTBALL
HALFTIME PEP TALK
GIVEN BY SOMEONE WHO
KNOWS NOTHING ABOUT
FOOTBALL—NAMELY, ME.

- - - -

OK, guys. Something happened out there. You ran a lot, and sometimes you threw and caught the ball. Anyway, somehow we wound up being down by 28 points. And that's not good. Even I know that. That's four touchdowns. Or maybe it's four touchdowns and four kicks. I think you only get 6 points for a touchdown and then you have to kick the ball. And you probably have to kick it from a certain distance. I don't know. But listen. Here's the thing. You guys have got to do better in the second half. Because there are only two halves. The halves are about 30 minutes long, and there is a halftime show, sometimes with John Fogerty.

I didn't even know that guy was alive, and sometimes I think he's Peter Frampton, and sometimes I think he was in Dire Straits. Was he? Anyone?

So look: I don't know who to direct this to, because I can't tell you apart. That's a big part of why I never watch football. I can't see your faces, so the sport lacks the inherent drama of baseball or basketball. And there are so fucking many of you on this team that it confuses me. Because only 11 of you can play at once. Or maybe that's soccer.

Let's do this: if you played in the first half, raise your hand.

Really? Wow. I don't recognize any of you.

All right. Well, here's what I can tell you. You have four chances to get a first down, and to get a first down you have to advance the ball 10 yards down the field. You can do that by passing or running the ball. I don't think you can kick it, but I would not quote me on that. Before each play, you'll get together in a huddle, and the quarterback will tell you what to do. Then you'll line up facing the other team. Some guy will move before everyone else. Most of the time that's OK, but I think sometimes he goes too soon and that's called a "man in motion." Maybe. Anyway, the quarterback will then pass the ball through his legs. Nope. Strike that. The guy who hikes the ball will pass it through his legs to the quarterback. And then the quarterback will either pass the ball or run it.

Now, this is important. If he gives you the ball, run toward our goal and try not to get tackled.

So, that's it, it's simple. Oh, and if you know what any of the following things are, try not to do them:

1. Holding

2. Facemasking

3. Excessive celebration

OK, you guys. I know you're probably bored shitless out there, and you want to claw your own eyeballs out for forgetting to bring a magazine. I know that you probably got involved in this whole football thing because you were pretending to like it to impress a guy. But now you're stuck actually having to play through an entire game. So just—I don't know—maybe think about what you're going to do after the game or tomorrow. If you can find a way to get drunk, maybe you'll start actually finding this fun. Sometimes that works, sometimes it doesn't. If all else fails, just concentrate on how good the shiny pants look on your teammates. Yeah, that's a little gay, but fuck it. We're down by 28 points, so we have to do whatever it takes. Seeming a little queer is the least of your problems.

I guess what I'm saying is try to do better. Or don't. Whatever. I'm not going to pay any attention.

Counterpoint

You know, some people say that CNN's website is sensationalist, but I disagree.

I mean, are you saying there is something sensationalist about this headline from today:

Cannibal fantasy child killer sent to death row

That reminds me, I need to go fill out my Cannibal Fantasy Football bracket.

ZING!

Cakes, Dogs, Wolfmen

Hi! I've kind of been on hiatus for no good reason. Well, not exactly. I mean, I have been very busy and I guess that's a reason not to write a blog entry. Anyway, I am now going to write an entry of completely random stuff.

Stuff One

I am reading "Rock On" by Dan Kennedy. It's pretty funny. It's about time spent as a marketing manager at a big record label, and a lot of it reminds me of my time (which is ongoing) doing promotions for big TV networks. These jobs are kind of funny because you do wind up sitting in rooms with actors or writers (or in his case, musicians/singers) whom you have no business interacting with. Like tomorrow I have to go shoot something with David Alan Grier. Like, what? It's a weird sort of thing.

I hope he's nice, because I actually think he's funny.


Stuff Two

I am not going to go out during the day and adopt a dog and "surprise" my husband with it when he gets home. That would be irresponsible.

Stuff Three

My friend and I turned in a new book proposal yesterday. I really do want to write it, even though putting a book out was pretty strange. You spend all this time writing it, and you feel like you are making this big birthday cake, and that putting your book out will be like taking the cake to a party and being like LOOK AT MY CAKE EVERYONE! LOOK, A NICE CAKE!

But really, unless you are famous or your publisher has a ton of money to market your book, it's more like you bake a birthday cake, and then you wait until the middle of the night, get into your car, drive out into the middle of nowhere and throw your cake into a deep, dark lake.

And the bottom is totally covered with other people's birthday cakes.

So, yeah.

Stuff Four

Seriously, I'm not gonna just go get a dog.

Stuff Five

You know, unless you guys think I should totally do that.

GIVING THE PEOPLE WHAT THEY WANT

It's time for another round of a fetaure I call:

Giving the people what they want!

Today, people are finding my blog by searching for:

http://www.google.com/search?s...S211&q=porno fake sally fields

FADE IN:

INT: LAUNDROMAT

Standing in the half-light produced by a single lightbulb, Sally Field folds a set of light blue sheets she has just laundered.

Across the room, a man, TED, 45, in a director's chair, clears his throat.

TED
Excuse me, Sally Field. Would you like to be in a fake porno?

SALLY
Why, yes I would. Of course I would. Yes. Yes.

FADE OUT.

Huge news.

Big news over here, people:

Okay or not okay?

Please stop being in love with me.

Look, Amanda Mull, I really need to ask you to stop loving me. I know that I am super lovable. Everybody wants to be with a size-twelve-on-a-good-day, semi-employed lady with questionable hygiene, but this has got to stop.

I got your love letter, and I'm a wee bit embarrassed at the gushing.

Listen, I am married. Let's just be the kind of lovers in The Bridges of Madison County or The English Patient or that movie with Julia Roberts. You know, the one where they make pizza and the chubby one does it with Ed Begley, Jr. Our love will be the sweeter for never having been consummated.

Always,
Wendy


How can I blame you for wanting this?

yay!

Okay, is it wrong that I think it's great that Paris Hilton wears a ring with her boyfriend's initials on it, and that his name is Benji Madden, and that that means she goes around wearing, literally, a diamond-encrusted B.M.?

I will say this. Someone I know had outtakes of the first season of The Simple Life, unauthorized shit from the first season, and those girls are SO MUCH WORSE than you think.

Okay, back to work!

Get with it.

Are you up to date on trends?

Okay or not okay?

The Universe Will Give You The Correct Life

If you said to me, like five years ago, "Hey , Wendy, someone will actually publish a book you wrote, and you'll do a reading at a Barnes and Noble and shit," I would have been like -- probably not going to happen.

But if you'd said, hey, Wendy, you are going to write a book and do a reading at Barnes and Noble, and they'll put a poster for it in the window beneath a giant advertisement for a book called sTori Telling by Tori Spelling.

Also they will spell your name wrong.

I would have been like, yeah, that sounds about right.

I don't make the world, I just live in it.

Look, today is the day when I GIVE THE PEOPLE WHAT THEY WANT.

And what they want, apparently, is people raping each other. FAMOUS people.

According to a little widget that monitors what Google searches bring (5) people to my site, the thing they are most often searching for is "celebrity rape scenes."

Evidence:

88 http://www.google.com.tr/search?hl=tr&q=rape%20scenes%20celebrities&meta=

And so today I am instituting a special feature called:

GIVING THE PEOPLE WHAT THEY WANT

INT. Laundromat

Natalie Portman fishes a last pair of socks from a dryer. She sighs, and turns to go.

In the WIDE SHOT, we see that the laundromat is empty. A single bulb illuminates Natalie's pale, beautiful face. She is wearing a tight tank-top and short, cut-off jean shorts, her muscular legs straining and her breasts heaving as she hauls her heavy basket.

Then, a JINGLE as the door opens and country star BILLY RAY CYRUS enters. He is tall, hulking, manly, powerful.

And then Natalie Portman rapes him.




A rapist will often be seen reading a book, so as to appear less suspicious.

Spoiler alert.

Guys, I know who wins the NCAA tournament.

The same person that ALWAYS wins.

Sorry I'm going to win the Yahoo bracket competition with my correct guess.

Better luck next time.

YOUR WINNER:

Please Meet The Newest Phrase You Hate

So this is the big story for ladies today:

Observer story (via lindsayism )

If you don't feel like clicking (I know, it's hard, you had a LONG DAY), the story is that there is a female equivalent of Metrosexuals, and they wear jeans and are dubbed "Urbane Tomboys."

And everyone's analyzing it in a very intelligent fashion, but my big problem with it is : seriously, URBANE TOMBOYS? As in like, a play on Urban Cowboy? Really? Am I wrong. Is that really it? I mean, it's so COMPLICATED. It's such a stretch.

Judging by the fact that that is the name they picked, here are some other movie-based names they must have passed up:

There Will Be Ladies In Sweatshirts
The Unbearable Dykeness Of Straight Girls
No Dresses For Reasonably Atractive Women

Also, isn't the phenomenon they are talking about just "most women?"

Sorry, I can't finish this post, I have to go have a boxing match with my girlfriends while we wear our Marc Jacobs T Shirts and not be gay. Or something. I'm so confused and cold! Hold me!