July 18, 2008
Frumps
This is what I look like after a day of writing and working out. Who's got the spread on whether or not I can pull this shit together for tonight? Le sigh.
Posted by Bree at 05:12 PM | Comments (2)
July 16, 2008
Word to the Wise
Do not read books about ghosts before going to bed.
One would think I'd have learned my lesson by now. Yet years of watching Unsolved Mysteries at 2 in the morning and reading Stephen King (Cujo in the 2nd grade was a highlight) and Fate Magazine and the Time-Life series on the supernatural I begged my Nana to buy me and freaking myself the fig outta my mind about every last creak and grown in the 200-year old former NURSING HOME I was raised in (a house that's seen, um, probably about 40 deaths or so...give or take...some in my BEDROOM) didn't seem to take.
So last night, I'm innocently cruising through some Jodi Picoult book I stole from my mom's library and it turns out it's all about crazy ghosts in some sort of Alice Hoffman-way. I mean, not like super-spooky or anything - and silly in that it's all "Oh the sky is raining blood and rose petals but no one in town is that bothered because what the hey now, they live in Vermont" - but enough to make me sleep with the hall light on and get Deuce cuddled up close. Because I read until I literally cannot finish the sentence and have to put my book down mid-word (!), I fell asleep rather quickly. BUT THEN! At one in the morning, I awoke with a start, shook Deuce out of bed and got all the way downstairs before realizing what I was doing. Which was going to let a dog inside that doesn't exist. I even had him pictured in my mind. [Musical cue: ooohhweeeee-ooooooh.]
Now, to be hard-H honest, the sleepwalking and sleeptalking thing has been a constant in my life since I was in hard-H high school. For YEARS, I woke up in the kitchen or in the living room or - one memorable time - trying to get out of my apartment door on 69th street wearing, yes, just a t-shirt, but this was different than it's been in a long while. I was awake throughout the entire event, much like when I was growing up and would jump in the shower at about 2 in the morning and get midway through my ablutions until my dad knocked on the door and said, "Bree! It's the middle of the night!" Yes, fully awake but completely OUT OF IT at the same time.
Luckily as I've gotten all "Colorado, brah" about life, these incidents have decreased. Whereas I used to punctuate my sleep about once a week yelling, "NO NO NO" or sit straight up in bed gasping (guys love this), I now only occasionally freak Matt out with my midnight ramblings. (Like when I asked him recently if he was on fire. Dude, just wondering.) I don't know why I do these things; I swear no one has ever tried to murder me or molest me and I don't think I have a very conflicted psyche in general. I mean, I wish I did - it would explain a lot - but alas, a charmed life I've led. So, I think to continue this trend of mental wellness and sleep health, I need to cut back on the blood-n-ghosts before bed. This is sad as there's nothing I love more than getting myself worked up in a tizzy exactly 3 minutes before lying down but I hate losing control of my actions (unless my good friend alcohol is involved), and this is the ultimate loss of control - whether I'm completely asleep or awake and making bizarro choices.
Does anyone know where I can get my hands on a copy of "Chicken Soup for the Sole Proprietor's Soul?"
Posted by Bree at 03:07 PM | Comments (2)
June 18, 2008
So Much Fame, So Little Whoring
My review of Babooshka on Yelp got picked the "Review of the Day" today. Whee! It's the second ROTD I've gotten, but I'm secretly pleased that this one got the golden nod of publicity because of the following wee nugget of overshare:
"What a little firecracker that lady is. Truth be told, she won me over the second I found out she was from NYC, but please, who can resist a chick who offers to set me up with a hot guy who works down the street, tells me I look like Bjork and gives me a recommendation for a Botox lady (Yes. I am that shallow. Word.) - all on my first visit? Love the cut, love the place, love her. And all this for $40?? I'm sold. And I'm totally getting Botox."
Ah. Vanity on display for all and sundry. I really am making a name for myself in this town.
UPDATE: I just looked back at my first ROTD, for Pilates Bodies, and saw that I wrote:
"...Indeed, if I had not such an affiliation for wine, candy and carbs, I would certainly be sporting the rock-hard abdomen so sought after in today's society. Alas. Pass the circus peanuts.
But, despite my best attempts to be chubbs and slovenly for the rest of my days, their classes (and one-on-ones) have kicked my "sits bones" into shape. My back (previously a tale of woe) has strengthened immeasurably, my skiing has improved, my hip bursitis (I am secretly 85 years old) has disappeared and best of all, I can go hungover and smelling like cigarette smoke and NO BIG DEAL. Minus, of course, the searing dehydration and need to pass out mid-class. Good times."
I need a personal editor. Or a muzzle.
Posted by Bree at 03:29 PM | Comments (1)
June 11, 2008
Candy, Candy, Candy, I Can't Let You Go
Candy I'm Thinking About on Wednesday Afternoon
Good & Plenty
Good & Fruity
Licorice Chocolate Bars
Moro Bars*
I used to have a daydream when I was a kid that I was somehow let loose in a Good & Plenty factory and could swim unmolested through a giant vat of those delightful nubs. Swim with my mouth open and my jaws gnashing, I mean.
CANDY.
GIMME.
SRSLY.
*These can be bought at that deli on 2nd and 9th-ish. Across from the Telephone Bar, I think. Do yourself a favor, New York.
Posted by Bree at 04:58 PM | Comments (0)
June 05, 2008
Door to Door Organics
Following Angela's lead, I just signed up for a weekly vegetable delivery from Door to Door Organics. For less than $25, I'll get a box of homegrown-ish goodies plunked on my doorstep every Wednesday. Plus, if my garden goes into hyperdrive (which I'm fully expecting following my EXPERT application of peat moss and fertilizer pellets), and all TWELVE red cabbage plants (what was I thinking??) start producing, I can cancel the orders. And see how long I can survive on a diet consisting solely of cabbage borscht. Stanky!
Their national areas of coverage are:
* Colorado - Aurora, Boulder, Colorado Springs, Denver
* Connecticut - Darien, Fairfield, Norwalk, Trumbull and more
* Delaware - All of DE, Dover, Wilmington
* Pennsylvania - All (incl. Philadelphia Area)
* Maryland - All. (Bethesda, Baltimore...)
* New Jersey - Delivery to all NJ: Princeton, Trenton ...
* NYC and New York - All NY and NYC
* West Virginia, VA and DC - Organic Home Delivery Service
It's like Kozmo all over again! Minus the Ben & Jerry's, movies and cigarettes. Pouring out a Coke Classic for you, Kozmo...
Posted by Bree at 01:21 PM | Comments (0)
June 03, 2008
Interesting in a 4.0 Kind of Way
Rick forwarded me a very interesting article about Colorado College (my alma as well as my mater) and its apparent descension into an elite nerd haven.
A few choice quotes from the piece follow:
While top administrators say those numbers speak to the school's excellence, some faculty members and even a vice president worry that a 97 percent retention rate could be a signal they are not taking enough "risks" with their admissions.
"Even though we're getting students on paper who are better on test scores, a lot of us miss what we used to call the quirky student," said Claire Garcia, an English professor. "We're seeing fewer and fewer of those."
***
***
***
I had the best time of my life at that school, and credit about 99-percent of it to the friends I made and the people I met. Because I'm a fascinating conversationalist, I always say that the strength of CC rested in its students; kids who didn't care about going to a "name" school on the east coast, kids who didn't necessarily achieve the highest marks in school but who had the most fun and rewarding times in high school, and kids who looked at education as but one way in which to create a fulfilling life. Many of us went against our family's wishes - and our peers' trajectories - to travel thousands of miles to be there. In fact, I was one of THREE kids in my high school class (Hi Danny! Hi Brooke!) who left the Northeast for college, and many of those at CC could boast similar statistics. The totally individualized and rampant successes that my friends have made out of their post-grad careers - and their post-grad lives - speak to this kind of attitude. I mean, look at me! I have a BLOG, for Chrissake! Now if that's not original...
I hope that CC figures this one out. I have such pride for that school, and such respect for the work that is achieved there, that I would hate to see it lose itself in cultural and intellectual whitebreadness. Sad to say that in an e-mail chain amongst my friends this morning, most of us are saying we wouldn't be able to get in to the school anymore. Jungle Wing REEEEVOLT. Form of: bucket of bongwater.
Posted by Bree at 11:48 AM | Comments (0)
May 21, 2008
Good Things, Small Packages
I've decided to knit everyone coffee cup cozies (koozies?) for Christmas. The only thing standing in my way is the likelihood I won't be invited home after this announcement. Or that I will be invited home, but then summarily drowned by the farrier in a pitcher of eggnog while my family stands around and bemoans the ruination of their favorite yuletide bev.
It's either that or the bat napkin(g) ring, people! Deal with it.
Posted by Bree at 11:18 PM | Comments (0)
May 09, 2008
Benefits of Crying (Wolf)
I haven't been able to sleep much the last few nights because I've taken to drinking Big Gulps of Diet Coke starting around 10 p.m. This new found energy allowed me to stay up until 1 last night finishing my book, (which was pretty good, but also very heavy-handed on the whole "animal abuse" front). Then, still not tired enough to sleep, I decided to cap off the evening by freaking out about weird, itchy bumps/bites that are on my arms and legs. In tears, I woke Matt up to posit the idea that there was some sort of parasite living inside of me. He failed to concur but let me have my freakout anyway, even suggesting we could go to the ER. After I said, "But they'd laugh at me..." it began to dawn that yes, I just might be overreacting. Especially since I have allergies to soap, and my friend Hannah washed all my sheets last week whilst housesitting and probably didn't use the "no-dye, no-fun" soap I like to use, and etc. etc.
This kind of behavior is not new to me, or any of my close friends and family. About once every three months, I have a major medical meltdown relating to some unexplainable problem that eventually turns into nothing and/or remains a figment of my imagination. (See: MS freakout from 1999-2004, hairloss freakout from 2004-6, bedbug freakout 2005, etc.). It's a charming attribute that really endears my friends and family to me. It also causes me to lose hours of life to anxiety, stress and worry about an issue that never comes to bear.
Luckily, as I have gotten older, I've really learned to let a lot of that go and not think so hard. But it still rears its head once in a while. And when it does, it's really awesome to have a guy around to bring you a bromeliad the next morning to make you feel better. And then make you scrambled eggs on the grill because your stove's still not set up. And then spend all day tiling your kitchen and running a gas line and setting up the new stove and dealing with the milk salesman. In short, it's really, really nice to have a Matt.
Posted by Bree at 02:00 PM | Comments (0)
April 18, 2008
Red Wine+Tequila+Vodka Martinis+Professional Photography
Yes, this is a picture of me from late last night. Yes, I couldn't open my mouth because my teeth were stained from the bottomless glass of Cabernet Sauvignon I was drinking from. Yes, today has been loooong but yes, it was totally worth it.
Posted by Bree at 04:34 PM | Comments (3)
March 12, 2008
Love This Idea...
then again, I am sometimes referred to as a bit of a ball-buster. And not in the flattering way.
"Writing a letter to the president of the company these days is not going to get you anything. They've got legions of people and the president of the company is never going to see that letter. But I have a letter-writing technique that's called "Spokesperson For The Competition." You don't write a letter to the company that's causing you a problem, you write a letter to the president of the company that is their number one competitor, telling your true story and offering to become their number one spokesperson, and giving them permission to give a copy of your letter to every one of their sales people. Now before you send that letter to the competitor, you send a copy of that letter to the president of the corporation that's causing you a problem. And now they do the math. They say, OK instead of losing just that one customer, our competitor is going to have evidence of just how poorly we treat our customers. And since we're in a highly competitive business, and we're trying to get those business accounts and fleet accounts or whatever, if every one of their sales people have evidence of how badly we treat our customers, how much business will we lose? You see what's happened there, it's the same technique, you're writing one letter, but you have somehow multiplied the effect, because you're not now one individual against the company that is causing you a problem. Using this technique of writing a letter to the competition, and offering to become a spokesperson for the competition, you've now multiplied your impact, your effect, a thousand fold? Ten-thousand fold? And suddenly, once again, it becomes more cost-effective for the company to take care of you than to ignore you."
- Ron Burley, author of Unscrewed: The Consumer's Guide to Getting What You Paid For as interviewed by Consumerist
Posted by Bree at 11:42 AM | Comments (3)
February 15, 2008
Reply to: youarescrewed@std.com
Web site allows anonymous warning of STD infections
This is genius. The one time I thought I might've possibly had something that began with "herp" and ended with "eez," I had to spend the agonizing 10-day wait alternately apologizing to/castigating/spending awkward time with an ex. Turns out I was clean as a whistle...albeit a whistle with a few nasty ingrowns. And a whistle who suddenly had just shared some intimate breakdowns with the aforementioned perpetrator/victim of her genital malfeasance, who took her vulnerability and tears and tears and tears to mean "I'm-a wanting to get back together and shizz...'specially now them bumps is gone." Ergh! How I wish I'd have known about this site!
Posted by Bree at 10:33 AM | Comments (0)
January 28, 2008
Why Do Birds Suddenly Appear?
Posted by Bree at 01:59 PM | Comments (2)
December 17, 2007
Alright Already!
I've had this picture on my desktop for far too long and I just can't take it anymore. Yes, it's true: I wear gigantic underpants (see above). Or, as I like to call them when I'm being seductive: gigundies. Though they are ridiculous, they are quite comfortable and provide portable storage space for everything from my cell phone (true, when I was trying the NON-wireless headset to prevent right cheek acne. I am a sad little monster, aren't I?) to bags of GORP. Even my thongs are outsized. So outsized indeed, I actually PEED THROUGH ONE in the middle of the night a few weeks back because I thought I wasn't wearing underpinnings. That's right. I sat on the toilet thinking I was naked from the waist down. That's how spacious my gigunds tend to be. And, frankly, though I've been meaning to tell you about all this for-it-seems-like-ever, and Jack Black's been a-lurking on my computador for-it-definitely-has-been-forever, the time has just never seemed right. Until now.
My name is Bree and I wear stupidly expansive underwear. My socks frequently have holes, I am generally in a Northport Girls Lacrosse sweatshirt handed down from Mike's sister and yoga pants, and I haven't had a shower since Saturday. Lucky for him, though, I tend to save all this glamour for my boyfriend. For you? For you I'll even brush my teeth.
Posted by Bree at 07:45 PM | Comments (0)
November 29, 2007
Pneumonia Update: Straight Outta Outbox
"At least yest. I shaved my legs (after 1 week+ without; bear in mind I'm 1/4 yeti)...but then had to rest (no joke) without TALKING (no joke) for 15 min until I felt like I WASN'T going to barf from the exertion."
Say it with me: "Good times, good times."
Posted by Bree at 03:30 PM | Comments (0)
Things That Bore Me
1. Textiles
2. Saturday Night Live
3. Myspace
4. Pneumonia
5. Jane Austen
Thing That Will Never Bore Me:
Gen Bonkers
Posted by Bree at 12:44 PM | Comments (0)
November 15, 2007
Achoo.
In my ongoing battle to banish the bronchial MUCUS that has been effing up everything from my career ("Pardon me," gurgle, gargle, hack) to my love life ("Um...hang on," choke, snot-blow), I've come across a product called Mucinex that promises to have me ship-shape by the morrow. Only problem is it apparently dries you up like a raisin in death valley, so I've been glamorously chugging water and bypassing Red Bull in an effort to counteract the effects. I'll keep you posted on my phlegm as the day progresses. Lucky!
Posted by Bree at 12:05 PM | Comments (0)
November 12, 2007
Growing Pains
Since last Wednesday, some oblique muscle in my corpus has been on strike. Latin trans: seriousyo, est brutalis. Between that and the pre-emphysematic phlegm-chortle I like to call my "sexy cough," it's like important parts of my body are engaged in a cage match. A cage match to the death.
This morning, par ejemps, I woke up to stabbing pains where my ribs used to be and hobbled downstairs to be of no assistance whatsoever in the a.m. machinations of dog pee/dog food/dog pills/coffee/toast/find and dismantle the beeping smoke alarm/complain about wireless service routine me and the boy like to enjoy in the pre-dawn hours. But between my moans and calls for caffeine, I did muster enough chutzpah to realize the following:
a. Valium may actually have been invented for situations like this. Not certain, but thinking...thinking...
b. I don't know any drug dealers in Denver who can score me some of them sweet dolls
c. Due to the fact my insurance situation sucks worse than Michael Moore, I can't go to my number one pusher - the doctor - for my bronchitis/abdominal atrophy unless I also get hit by a car.
That's all I've got. So if you see a girl huddled in the road coughing and grimacing with a sign that says "Not too hard, and make it quick!!!" - do the world a favor and just lightly tap her with your bumper until she falls over. And then bring her some quad-shot Americanos and Archway soft snacking cookies while she's recooping in the hospital. 'cause she might like that. Just sayin'.
Posted by Bree at 08:43 AM | Comments (0)
November 03, 2007
Got a Leaky Toilet?
Matt just told me the number one reason why people have leaky toilets.
Ready?
Toilet sex.
For realz.
Toilet sex. (See image on right.)
Now I've encountered my fair share of smut over the years, but I've honestly never EVER heard of anyone having sex on the john. Bathroom floor? OK. Shower stall? Sure thing. Tub? As long as it's not full of bubble bath, the ladeez shouldn't have a problem. But THE TOILET?! ewwwwww!
So, if you've got a leaky one - try the bed, cowboy. And have fun explaining that one to your plumber. Unless, of course, you're dating your plumber. In which case: the loo's the limit. Get crazy.
Posted by Bree at 02:28 PM | Comments (0)
October 31, 2007
Hallows
One haunted corn maze, two pumpkins, four parties and countless mini-Butterfingers later, I am ready to bid adieu to my favorite holiday tonight with a two-hour candy pass-out followed by a spooktacular screening of the world's best horror movie: Halloween. (Duh!)
In related, my costume this year gave new meaning to the word horror. Yes, my little readership, I revisited the heady days of 1990 with a dashing ensemble of one (1) Cherokee brand pastel striped turtleneck sweater, one (1) kenya bag, one (1) acid-washed miniskirt, one (1) pair of glasses, one (1) pair of suntan pantyhose and one (1) clarinet. Still stumped as to the inspiration behind this dashing ensemble? Oh just a little thing I like to call Bree in the 8th grade. It - and I - was astonishingly sexy, rest assured. Coupled with my date, who went as The Dude from The Big Lebowski, we made quite an impression on Denver's Halloween Hoi Polloi. Let's just say: the calls for us to party naked were both frequent and insistent.
Smokin' hot - it's how "I do."
Happy Halloween, kiddados.
Now pass the Baby Roofs.
Mama's hungry.
Posted by Bree at 12:37 PM | Comments (0)
October 30, 2007
Bad Blogger
Nic-chick
I know. Ever since I got back from Europe, I've been a bad, bad blogger.
It's not in my nature to be so uncommunicative, but let's all serve up a big piece of slack for the Breegers: I've been sick as the dog. Three or four weeks now, I've been snotting and coughing and malaise-ridden and all the other good stuff that comes along with my smoking habit and the change of season. Gahhhhhhh! So irksome.
And, in other news, I seem to have procured myself a new boy. His name is Matt and he's awfully cute. But that's all you're getting.
So, in addition to all the excitement and glee and bonhomie that comes with a new "thing," I'm also trying to find a copywriting job, installing built-in bookshelves, a new fireplace and wallpaper in my library, and planning a baby shower for my darling Pifuka. Plans being so far: loads of booze, no games. Wanna come?
I'll continue to endeavor to update this as often as possible, which will probably be in direct correlation to how frequently I'm blowing off any and all of the above, but don't get too steamed if it's just randers links and youtube videos for a while. Girl's busy, and expecting to get a lot more so once skiing season starts in earnest. As for now, though, I've got to go rewrite my cover letter. Ghastly.
Posted by Bree at 01:33 PM | Comments (0)
September 20, 2007
Because I'm a Lazeabout
I didn't follow through on my plan to make a mix CD of "baby songs" for my friends' baby shower this past weekend. BUT! IF I HAD! This is maybe how it might've looked:
American by Birth - Johny Cash
A Star is Born - Barbra Striesand
Babe - Styx
Babies Making Babies - Sly and the Family Stone
Baby Can I Hold You - Tracy Chapman
Baby Don't Forget My Number - Milli Vanilli
Baby Got Back - Sir Mix A Lot
Baby I Love Your Way - Peter Frampton
Baby It's You - The Shirelles
Sweet Child O' Mine - G n' R
Baby One More Time - Britney Spears
Born to Be My Baby - Bon Jovi
Daughter - Bread
I'm Your Baby Tonight - Whitney Houston
Word to the Mother - Big Daddy Kane
Baby Please Don't Go - Amboy Dukes
Baby I love Your Way - Peter Frampton
Baby Blue - Van Morrison
Papa Don't Preach - Madonna
Give It To Me Baby - Rick James
PUSH IT - Salt n Pepa
If there was extra room, I was going to throw on "We Don't Have to Take Our Clothes Off (to Have a Good Time)" - a song that has, regretfully, been in my head for most of 2007 - but alas...now I guess we'll never know. Feel free to cadge my steez to delight and amuse the expectant expectorants in your crew. This, this is my gift to the uteri.
Posted by Bree at 10:22 AM | Comments (0)
September 16, 2007
Experiment
Those of you who've seen me the past few weeks have probably noticed the cigarette sticking out ma maw. Yes, after FIVE YEARS of stone-cold QUIT, I caved and went back to my babies. But my babies aren't treating me so nice.
Or, actually, they're treating me too nice.
So, looks like the empirical data collected during the "Can Bree be a casual smoker? Experiment" has empirically proven that no, no I can't be a casual smoker.
So, I'm not gonna be a smoker at all.
As of tomorrow, that's it.
Marlboro Medium 100s, you'll always be in my heart.
Please know that I wish you only the best.
Godspeed.
Yikes!
Posted by Bree at 08:49 PM | Comments (0)
August 26, 2007
Horoscopic
Most of you (e.g., the boys) prolly don't give a hoot about star-stuff, and I'm certainly no head-in-the-sand devotee of the craft, but this just caught my eye (e-mailed in my "Weekly Love Horoscope" from Tarot.com):
This is the last week of serious Saturn's two-year stay in Leo, the sign of the heart. A review of romantic issues experienced during this period of time is a good way to clear the slate in preparation for a fresh start in relationships. If you've been disappointed in the past, say goodbye to what has happened before instead of giving it the power to define your future.
Innnnteresting, indeed. I'll say, the last two years have been kind of frustrating, romance-wise. I've had a lot of...erm...activity in the sector, and certainly met a few totally stellar dudes (and a few unbelievable a-holes), but truth be told - nothing's really clicked. Not like it has in the past. Hard to say why exactly that is, so perhaps a review is in order. Luckily, Tarot.com goes on to recommend I "...overcome any feelings of isolation this weekend (whether you're alone or with someone who doesn't care enough) by attending to [my] own needs. Spend some money on [my]self, even if it stretches [my] budget."
Done and done!
Posted by Bree at 10:18 PM | Comments (0)
August 24, 2007
Metafurs
Taking out the trash tonight, I stopped to notice and admire this magnificent vine that's growing over my back fence. Covered in big clusters of purple and green grapes, it was resting peacefully in the twilight [such schlock - ed.] in such a way that I ran back in to grab my (recently reinstated) 35mm for a few snaps. Midway through the little shoot, I began following the trails of the plant with my eyes to find different angles. Doing so, I realized the vine had spread far beyond the rails of the fence and was actually wrapped insidiously around several branches of a nearby apple tree. I was a little shocked by how alien these grasping green tentacles were; how flagrantly officious. They were like little boa constrictors wrapped around each branch. This pretty, fragrant vine - which moments earlier, I had been admiring and cooing over in a state of Coloradoan bliss - was conducting an assault on my tree. This beautiful, alluring thing was trying to take over.
I put the camera on the ground and ripped and tore the vine down with my hands. Then I went into the alley and pulled it down from that side. I filled two trash cans with probably 40 lbs. of plant. The road back there is stained with grape juice; there are berries scattered all over. But it was the pleasure I found in the process of tearing this monstrous growth apart that was the most surprising. I must admit, I haven't been that satisfied in a while. I haven't been that certain in a while.
The metaphor in it all is clear: I'm feeling choked by the pretty things. And I am. Myself chief among the offenders. Myself perhaps the only offender. I've found recently that I've gotten back into the habit of nodding "Yes" when I'm not sure I mean it. Thus, I've gotten back into the habit of feeling trapped by my own acquiescence, by my own passivity - a state of being I'm never comfortable with. I've gotten back into the habit of saying, "I should" rather than "I want." And I've gotten back into the habit of dealing with my own limitations by withdrawing.
Time to rip it all down, I suppose.
Back there and in here.
Dang, cuz. This growing up business ain't for sissies.
Or grape lovers.
Posted by Bree at 07:36 PM | Comments (0)
July 26, 2007
Round-Up
Things I Don't Like That Everyone Else Likes:
1. Falafel
2. Jonathan Adler
3. Border collies
4. Frisbee
5. Good times, laughter, bonhomie
Things I Am Wholly Ambivalent About That Everyone Else Likes:
1. Baseball
2. Harry Potter
3. Ireland
4. Sausage
5. Returning phone calls
Things I Like That Few Others Like:
1. Broccoli and pineapple pizza
2. Wearing bras to bed
3. The full Cleveland
4. Eating straight from cans
5. Being on airplanes
Posted by Bree at 01:44 PM | Comments (0)
July 19, 2007
FYI
Sometimes, after a really bloaty lunch, I like to put on outfits that make me look both pregnant and butch. It's how "I do."
[Musical cue: Hot in the City by Billy Idol]
Posted by Bree at 01:44 PM | Comments (0)
July 02, 2007
Hair! I Wanna Live Forever...
So. I'm thinking of growing my hair out again. Clearly, this is one last stab at the retention of youth during the inevitable step - step - hobble towards middle age. But seeing as I've already given up smoking, high glycemic carbohydrates and speedball benders, I feel like this one can slide through the wrinkly cracks for a few more months. Besides, my hair is all curly and nice right now...longest it's been in a while, and I'm digging on it. Some estrogenial riddle has even seen fit to grant me ringlets. Moi? Senorita straight-hair? No longer.
I'm hoping it turns into something like this:
(taken at a wedding in LI in autumn of 2002 or 2003)
Or Bulb's hair of the last few years:
(taken at the NOW-DEFUNCT Purple Pub, gasp - sigh - keen)
Or Zoe's hair:
(taken at El's birthday at Lolita's...and no, I can't think of a single NOW-DEFUNCT thing about this picture 'cept that nail Marcus is all gnawing on.)
And NOTHING like this:
(taken in 1,000 Islands with the NOW-DEFUNCT dog, Magic)
Granted - it was still wet in that last picture and that was before I discovered styling products but it was also flat as a Johnny Cake (2nd mention this week!). Stringy. Boring. Clearly not fit to rock those shoes. Or that boyfriend. Alllllssss I'm saying is this: I need some body and depth up in this piece, but really want to shy away from the layers for a while. It just got too crazy there for a bit - all thinned out on the bottom and giguntus on the top - and was looking pretty. fucking. bad. 'round the holidays this year.
All right. You can go now. This fascinating follicular fete has wound down and they're starting to put up the chairs. Don't forget to take a centerpiece.
Posted by Bree at 03:36 PM | Comments (0)
June 26, 2007
Ennuncement
Seattle was absolutely amazee. I spent time with the ones I love, I hiked, I giggled, I ate tons of fresh seafood, I got driven around in a Porsche, I bought fun stuff, I met cool people and I saw a part of the country that I had never seen before...but nonetheless felt like home. Riddle me that.
So, the ennucement is not - as you might expect, and as I've had to battle myself over the past few days - that I am packing up and moving north. No, even though the city is a combination of the best parts of San Francisco and New England - and is full of rich hottersons and coffee and good music and good design and water and trees and trees and water and hills and skiing...no. No. No. Here. Staying here.
Where was I?
Right.
Anys - the ennucement. The ennucement is as follows: I, Bree, am not going to date for two months. TWO. MONTHS.
All right...maybe one.
And this is not counting the date I already have lined up for Saturday night (but I already know him and have dated him in the past, so that doesn't count...right? Plus he was a professional SKIER. I mean, come on.) And this doesn't mean I'm not going to stop flashing my pearlies at every fella over the 6' mark I encounter. But I'm just not going to actively spend my time on this over the summer. I gost shit to do. I gost shit to figger out. I gost shit going on - and the boys? The boys drain me and distract me and make me forget my me. So, I'm taking a break.
Uh...after Saturday, I mean.
Actually, better make that Sunday.
Posted by Bree at 02:18 PM | Comments (0)
June 13, 2007
Empathy
I've been thinking recently about empathy. About how important a quality it is to have; about how it is able to enrich life by making relationships with people meaningful and intense. Conversely, how focusing on someone else can also serve to distract one from thinking about or solving his or her own problems.
It is something that has been on my mind.
So, when my housekeeper showed up this morning - this small, vibrant woman whom I'd never met before - and told me, within a few minutes of meeting, that her boyfriend had broken her ribs a few months ago, thrown away all of her things and liked to call her a cunt, my heart filled up. I stood in my sunny hallway, with the dogs licking my hands, and my bag slung over my shoulder - thinking about getting a coffee, thinking about going to work, thinking about all the things that I get to do today, all the people I get to talk to, all the music I get to listen to, thinking about the e-mail my mom had just sent me telling me how much she loves me, and it was like getting slapped in the face.
Not to be too pedantic, but I think that's what the kids call perspective.
She said that her daughter was begging her to leave the guy, but that she couldn't leave him. I told her what I always tell my girls and what I always tell myself: "There's nothing worse than feeling alone when you're with someone...nothing." and then I asked if she felt alone. She said she did. She said she would think about me, and my nice house, and how I was living there by myself, and how happy I was, and it would maybe help give her strength to leave him. She said she was looking forward to spending time among my things.
Breaks me apart.
I really hope she doesn't find my vibrator collection.
Posted by Bree at 09:27 AM | Comments (0)
June 11, 2007
All(s) I Said...
was that I didn't happen to think pumpernickel toast would taste good with grape jelly. And look where it got me...public mockery, flagellation and super-imposed brain matter. Why I ne'er.
Posted by Bree at 06:13 PM | Comments (0)
June 10, 2007
Scaredy Cat
A boyfriend asked me a few months ago if anything scared me. I don't remember exactly what I said; I just remember his incredulity that I was having a hard time thinking of anything.
Bugs do.
That's a given.
Also pretty much anything that makes me feel trapped. Traffic jams, escalators, airport security lines, certain social situations, work meetings at my old job...things like that.
A friend of mine told me this weekend that she'd recently had her first panic attack. After pulling off the highway, she'd sat in a gas station, feeling like she was dying, calling her boyfriend over and over again until he answered and came to pick her up. It reminded me - and I told her - of the ones I had in New York. Talking about the biggie - the first one - the one that started on the subway and ended in my office five hours later made me consider, for the first time in a long time, the aftermath of that day. 9/12/02.
What happened was uncomplicated: I had to face a nearly unbearable fear I had developed over and over and over again - every minute of every commute. The ways I dealt were personal, and they were necessary. I would keep my hand on my bottle of Xanax in my bag so I would have it if I needed it. I would never travel without my Ipod, something to read and water in case my mouth got so dry I couldn't take a pill. I used counting to calm my mind; counting the letters in an advertisement, the songs on a playlist, the beads on a necklace.
What happened was uncomplicated: I made a situation I couldn't change into one that I could manage.
When I moved to Brooklyn, which was the end of my time in New York, I doubled the length of my commute and added a good three to five minutes under water each way. By then, April of 2005, I had stopped taking the bottle of Xanax with me. I even sometimes forgot my headphones or my paper...the distractions I had used to get my mind off the torture of waiting.
Waiting to lose control.
Most of those feelings are behind me now. When I feel trapped, I tell myself - I'm never trapped. I can drive away. I can drive so far away. I can even drive home if I need it. I am never trapped; I will never be trapped again. My mind - once the genesis, has now become the solution.
So, tonight, as I sit here and find myself battling that Sunday anxiety that is a weekly occurrence for me - and for many - I am thoughtful about how far I've come from those months of continual distress. Now the things I'm afraid of - that I'm not worth much, that if I make mistakes, people won't love me; that the people I love will die no matter how much I love them - can't be fixed with music and medicine.
So yes, Stephen, I am afraid of things.
I am afraid of so many things tonight.
But I won't be tomorrow.
Posted by Bree at 09:28 PM | Comments (0)
May 24, 2007
Six Things
Things I like: Diet Coke with vegetables, the new Rufus Wainwright CD (and not just 'cause of that kick-ass stars imagery rocking all over it), this lil piece by Ryan McGinness that my newly hired designer sent me in the ways of TSC logo inspiration:
Things I Don't Like: When people write "favs" instead of "faves," including punctuation inside of quote marks, moths.
Posted by Bree at 09:36 PM | Comments (0)
February 22, 2007
Not Only Would It NOT Be A Good Day...
if our Air Force had to hold a bakesale to buy bombers, it would be the shittiest day ever. And we'd be spending it in a work camp.
What the fuck...? So ridiculous.
Posted by Bree at 04:53 PM | Comments (0)
February 21, 2007
Reminder
I can't figure out which tickles me more: the phrase "Boyfriend Season" or that this jpg was named "CornellWishes."
Cornell Wishes what?
That his belly button wasn't between his nipples?
Posted by Bree at 08:45 AM | Comments (0)
January 27, 2007
The Reason Seaason
Among the Reasons I Like Living Here in Colorado:
1. At a party last night, I finally got to see the Paris Hilton sex tape
2. I also got a gift box with jewelry and Junior Mints
3. It's snowing
4. The guy who shovels my walk looks like David Crosby
Among the Reasons I'm Glad to Be Going to New York Tomorrow:
1. The streets and the parks
2. Century 21
3. Deli coffee, bagel, NY Post
4. The magnificence of it all (including, fingers crossed, David Crosby)
Posted by Bree at 10:06 AM | Comments (1)
Breaking
The next time someone says to me, "Your fly's down," I'm going to say,
"I'm ADVERTISING."
Just so you're ready.
Posted by Bree at 01:18 AM | Comments (0)
December 08, 2006
Heartwarming Holiday Humanity, Deneuve-Stylez
All I want for Christmas is to be about 1/1000th as composed as that chick. Or, seeing as I can't find that ANYWHERE on Amazon, howsabout some of those Roger Vivier pilgrim flats she sports throughout Belle de Jour? Prolly easier to wrap, anyhow.
Oh and speaking of segues, swing your mouse o'er to the new Amazon wish list button on the right there...right there...beneath the Flickr link. You can buy me things and I WON'T KNOW until that sweet moment when I do know...and cover you with smooches! Also, no danger or double-buying, so get. to. The previous has been a BreeSA from your ever-hard-to-shop-for- bucket-of-guts over here. <-- Guessing this is not how Deneuve would conduct herself.
Oh, I have so very much to learn.
Posted by Bree at 09:46 AM | Comments (0)
November 13, 2006
Borat = Boring
Period.
Posted by Bree at 07:53 PM | Comments (0)
October 05, 2006
Skinny Jeans
They just don't look good, people. Um...ever. They never, ever, ever look good. Especially with flats - my GOD, if that's not misogyny and hatred of the female form, I don't know what is.
Note, this image is from a sales brochure:
And those particular ones cost about $250. That's dollars - not pesos.
Though, to be frank, that seems like a pretty reasonable price to pay for making your lower half look like a bloated, ill-shaped, off-balanced and all together awkward mishmash of suck, I'd say. Then again, I have some loose spandex running knickers from Target that accomplish the same goal for a fraction of the cost you can totally borrow so, tomato - tomahto. Whatever it takes to ensure we all die alone.
Posted by Bree at 12:40 PM | Comments (0)
September 21, 2006
Apple? Tree.
My dad is very excited that the word idiosyncrasy (meaning "a characteristic, habit, mannerism, or the like, that is peculiar to an individual") is a derivation seemingly at odds with its root: the Greek for "personal blend." He told me about this exciting lingual development on the phone and followed up our robust back and forth with a mailed print reference. In other news, The Gap has underpants on sale.
It's been quite a day.
Posted by Bree at 09:35 PM | Comments (0)
September 17, 2006
And This is Why I Don't Like Birds
Posted by Bree at 11:34 AM | Comments (0)
September 08, 2006
You're the One for Me, Fatty
Here's an interesting little piece from The Nation featuring several different takes and theories about our obesity pandemic/food supply nightmare.
There's some typical rhetoric and smugness, but the overall hypothesis - that we are slowly being totally reamed by the EVIL CORN INDUSTRY (I shit so not.) - among others - holds water. Or high fructose syrup.
Some quotes:
Farm subsidies, tariffs and trade agreements support a food supply that provides 3,900 calories per day per capita, roughly twice the average need, and 700 calories a day higher than in 1980, at the dawn of the obesity epidemic. (Marion Nestle)A McDonald's meal (and most of the processed food in your supermarket) consists of clever arrangements of corn and soybeans--the corn providing the added sugars, the soy providing the added fat, and both providing the feed for the animals. These crop subsidies (which are designed to encourage overproduction rather than to help farmers by supporting prices) are the reason that the cheapest calories in an American supermarket are precisely the unhealthiest. (Michael Pollan)
Grodes, but at least we're not the only species with a self-control problem.
Thank goodness "big pharma" is all up in the mix slavishly working away to find the pill to melt away our chub and solve all of our problems. Now I'm an undeniable fan of pharmaceuticals (ahem), but it disturbs me to no end that our advertising and PR agencies and most of the media we consume is bankrolled by these cats. It's no secret that the once creative, independent industries are now heavily influenced by Pfizer and J & J and the like. They have to be: drug companies are the only ones with the scratch to buy ads (which pay for and control content in most media outlets) and to buy PR services (which place targeted content in most media outlets). Think about in terms of ad pages - the bread and butter of the magazine publishing industry. When you see an ad for Celexa or Claritin or whatever, you always see a page next to it filled with fine print. That means for every ad these guys buy - they actually have to buy two. Kind of like the fat dude who has to sit in first class. That's ad page gold. Thus, the publishers love them and court them and to some degree or another shape their content to attract them...and their customers.
Also, to add another point to this neverending rant, think about this next time you consider the state of our public health and healthcare situation: when people are sick, it behooves the pharmaceutical companies (drug sales) and law firms (injury/illness suits). When people are dead, it behooves the government (fewer social security/medicare/welfare etc. payouts)...and law firms (estate settlement, wrongful death). It's all so...intertwined.
THEY ARE ALL TOTALLY TRYING TO KILL US. By hook or by twinkie.
Double Ehh!
All right. This diatribe must be suspended as I have to go out.
Oh and hey - if you're looking for me tomorrow night, I'll be at the Rockies game apparently supping on "pizza in a cup." I'm sure no lifespans have ever been capped in the knees by that entree, but hell - I like to eat out of both sides of my mouth.
¡I'm weak! And hungry! Sue me!
Oh and could you pass the Schlitz...and the Vicodin? Grats.
Posted by Bree at 06:18 PM | Comments (0)
August 30, 2006
Posted by Bree at 07:15 PM | Comments (0)
August 18, 2006
Sweet Salvation
Now I don't want to get picky with the Big Guy here, but according to my exhaustive studies (read: Google search on - God + Old Testament + speaking), the Good Book (aka: this dude) mentions God speaking out 1,282 times. Though not all 1,282 of these instances specifically spring to my mind, I'm just presuming that humans were the intended audience for most. Maybe Satan once in a while, sure. And who can forget the Holy Ghost? Quite the conversationalist, that one.
But - what I'm getting down to here is - God and his envoys clearly need to retool their 21st century communication methods. I don't know if they have cell towers "on high," and yeah, I appreciate the whole "nontraditional, outside the box" kind of stuff, and don't get me wrong - this is waaaaaaaaay better than hearing some booming voice from behind a cloud saying you've got to kill a son or build a huge boat or something, but this whole iconic foodstuff messaging is just getting a little bizarre.
Need I call the Holy Toast to the stand before I rest my case?
Posted by Bree at 05:00 PM | Comments (0)
August 16, 2006
Vocabulary Builder: Lesson One
AH! New favorite word!
Faffing: (1) Time wasting; syn: fucking. Faffing.
Usage: “You need a solid bloke with sartorial flair and the constitution of a bull elephant, not some faffing censorious idiot with a penchant for Steven Segal movies. Steven Segal only works solo,” said Mr. King, looking louche as he swirled a Campari and soda. [New York Observer, Aug. 21, 2006]
Posted by Bree at 08:56 AM | Comments (0)
July 11, 2006
28 Things to Realize on a Tuesday in Berkshire County
- Realize eating fried eggs is a better way to spend your time than running
- Realize you left your bikini bottom in Brooklyn
- Realize hot pink cotton "boy short" underpants make a good bikini bottom substitute...from a distance...
- Realize that the white man, the ferrier, the vet, the housekeeper, the carpenter and all other assorted passersby can probably see through your ruse...and your cotton panties
- Realize you should spend your afternoon with an at-home bikini wax
- Realize that you don't really want to and further...you don't really need to
- Realize that the white man, the ferrier, the vet, the housekeeper, the carpenter and all other assorted passersby can surely see through that ruse...and your cotton panties
- Realize you should support local businesses so decide to cover panties with pants and head over to local record store to buy Wolf Mother, Iron and Wine, Cake, the Raconteurs and some old Neil Young
- Realize your asinine park job is blocking the way of a delivery truck
- Realize the driver of that truck is fully smoking a bowl in the cab
- Realize you should probably ask if you should move your pick-up before it is dragged onto Water Street by Peter Tosh over there
- Realize public drug users are easily startled
- Realize Toonerville doesn't have a single CD on your list
- Realize that as far as local record store clerks go, that dude Hal's got working there is no Heather J.
- Realize (again) how much you miss Heather J.
- Realize Townes Van Zandt, Billy Bragg & Wilco, Clap Your Hands Say Yeah, the double-disk Casino soundtrack (for $12!), John Parish & P.J. Harvey and Emmylou Harris are all worthwhile purchases
- Realize that chick at the drugstore is Rebecca Debra!
- Realize you can't go to Dunkin' Donuts because the bitch you rightfully and spiritedly accused of bitchery on the day of your Nana's funeral might still be there...and might remember you...and outweighs you by at least 75 lbs...and probably fights dirty...
- Realize you should go home before you spend any more money on CD's and bikini wax and/or make any more enemies with local proletariats
- Realize you don't know how to dress for a 7:30 showing of The Devil Wears Prada at the Berkshire Mall
- Realize that is the stupidest concern you have ever entertained
- Realize that the older you get, the less you care what you look like
- Realize you really should move back to NYC because that kind of attitude is a one-way ticket to stretchy trouserland
- Realize stretchy trouserland might not be so bad
- Realize you are mere steps away from eating ice cream in bed surrounded by cats
- Realize that if that probability becomes an eventuality, the bikini wax/bottom issue(s) will be moot(s)
- Realize you should really write less about your pubis now that the site's been picked up by Google
- Realize your dad's home and it's time to go downstairs and have some laughs
Posted by Bree at 02:52 PM | Comments (0)
July 07, 2006
Don't Forget...
Posted by Bree at 11:23 AM | Comments (0)
June 30, 2006
This 4th of July...
...don't forget to acknowledge and pay tribute to the building blocks our country was founded upon: liberty from unjust persecution, personal freedom and, of course, the right to bear arms.
Especially against mofos like this.
Once again - special thanks go to America's proliferative class.
Keep up the good work.
No, really. We need all the evidence we can get if Roe v. Wade keeps gettin' hassled in the high courts...
Posted by Bree at 07:02 PM | Comments (0)
May 19, 2006
Fuel Woes?
Rest easy. Corncob Bob is here. And he's not gonna let them damned Arabs get away with this lunacy any longer. Besides, everyone knows how much the corn industry needs our help and support. Jeezy. If they get any more powerful, we'll be living in corn houses. Seriously. Check your ingredient labels people - it's 100 percent corn!
Not kidding! Fructose is the reason we're all chubs!
"Today, sweeteners made from corn are the leader, racking up $4.5 billion in annual sales and accounting for 55 percent of the sweetener market. That switch largely reflects the steady growth of high-fructose corn syrup, which climbed from zero consumption in 1966 to 62.6 pounds per person in 2001."
Corn boycott!
Who's with me?!
Posted by Bree at 10:17 AM | Comments (0)
May 12, 2006
Best This, Bestmasters!
It's Friday. And thus, much like a super-cute and totally stylin' pinata, your lady in Bests is stuffed full of fun, pesos, chiclets, pupusas and links to make your work day sail by, and bring that five o'clock drunk oh so much closer.
Here's what's been tickling my fancy (and my Frantzy) these past few days...
Best site I wish they updated more than once a month
Best piece I would totally buy if I had any room left on my walls
Best posters I would totally buy all of if I had any room left on my walls
Best artist that is frustratingly sold out of everything I want to buy
Best book that is frustratingly out of stock at Powells
Best candles bar NIL to buy for every last girl in your address book
Newest color scheme I'm thinking of snaking for Sweet and Bitter
Best site that makes me entertain the fantasy I will one day sew my own living room curtains
Best video of Joan Rivers TOTALLY WASTED
Best Post-it note to myself ever written
Best blog entry I wish I'd written
Best blog headline I wish I'd written
Best picture that makes me long for a bialy
Best picture of Heather getting humped by a similar-lookin' fellow which is somewhat blocked by a peeping Tan
Speaking of Heather, Best instance of BFF stylez I just totally copped, imported to D-town and am wearing out tonight
Speaking of tonight, best dance spot I'm hitting up by 9 p.m.
Best place I visit every day despite the fact that the word "great" is used THRICE in short succession in this write-up
Best t-shirt I think I must buy Dania
Best t-shirt I think I must buy me despite my feeling that the skull thing has been over for 2 1/2 months
Best example of new military design trend
Best picture of me at work taken within the last 12 hours (with a bonus Best picture of Matt Lauer on a TV screen taken within the last 12 hours)
Best reason I have to go take a nap right now (7:30 a.m. class, bitch! STEVE HOLT!)
Best reason I have to go for a run this afternoon
And now, no way to link them, but hereby I present:
The best e-mail message I wrote all week:
From: Briggles
To: Jake, Eric
Date: May 10, 2006 5:16 PM
Subject: may 19
i took it off from work.
i guess that means you guys are having a party. i'll bring the hype.
* * * * * *
Two paragraphs of the best e-mail message I received all week:
From: Richard J. Moore
To: Briggles
Date: May 11, 2006 10:45 PM
Subject: Re: Jobby-job
Channel 7 news: If only I could be lucky enough to get trapped in a mine or well or hole and emerge...a hero. Hero. Celebrated. Motivational speeches. "Yes. The well. It sucked. I waited around to die but then I got out. Change your life! Don't do drugs. Do drugs. I don't care. I am an ex-trapped survivor. I could have you killed. I want a Nissan Sentra." Other news: They are cutting down a 60 year-old tree. Kids are setting up health stations against french fries. Big storms in the midwest. Video of a fire in Fla. Giraffes. This is real news on TV. Yeah, I know its an easy target but I'm just rambling and typing.
The prosciutto plate was borrowed/stolen from the office Christmas party. There was food. I wanted it and it was on the plate. Bree, you can have that plate. You can have it to barter for goods and services, use on Thanksgiving, place in a fashionable wood cabinet or throw in a fit of rage or happiness. My gift to you. Welcome to Denver.
* * * * * *
Best text message I received all week:
May/11/2006 4:10 p.m.
From: Matt
Workin with Wolverine tomorrow!
* * * * * *
Leading to this...the best picture of Hugh Jackman freaking Matt Damon ever to be published, and the true coup de grace of all this assorted bestness:
Posted by Bree at 09:09 AM | Comments (1)
May 05, 2006
Bree to Dudes: I Give Up
Posted by Bree at 12:36 AM | Comments (0)
April 25, 2006
Playtime
Earlier today, I received this missive in my MySpace inbox:
Cute pics ;) ... check out mine, let me know what u think... I haven't updated my profile in a bit * currently single now * .. anywhos, let me know what ya think... maybe some 'playtime' can be arranged? :D
Boys, friends, boys who are friends, exes, those I like and those I like like, Dad, all of you: listen to me here. You know I've always been straight with you, and this is important. "Playtime" as a euphemism for sexual contact is NOT. EVER. GOING. TO. BE. OK.
That said, when you start seeing the word "anywhos" pop up in my posts...well...you know who to thank. Paul, 22, of Parker, Colorado. Or, maybe just thank his heroes, who not only include "My Brother, STEVE, [and] ERIC !!!" but also "Christopher Reeves [sic]."
This is so egregious I've been forced to add a new category.
Welcome to BreeSA.
Your tutelage begins now.
Posted by Bree at 11:02 PM | Comments (1)