Tits or Terrorism?

Looks like New Year's might be spent watching "Der Baader Meinhof Komplex." Nothing like ringing in the New Year with a prestige cuvée and a little 1970s terrorism, while glamorous people elsewhere in the world fete with new boob jobs and Lady Gaga. A Plastic Surgeon in NYC is offering a $100,000 dollar Special, which features three tables for New Years Eve for concerts by Ms. Gaga and two barf heads (John Mayer and some other crooner). The package also includes round-trip first-class tickets from New York to Miami, a choice of Penthouses at 5-star hotels in South Beach for a month and new tits for the new year. Wow, the things one can achieve with new tits!

Will Trade Slag for Skirt

I gave myself until Jan 1 to be, what my good friend K. has so appropriately called a "slag." Then I have to undo the damage of doing too many sudoku on the couch while having the flu, imbibing eggnog with Brandy and moving my limbs only to change the occasional diaper. After all, a whole new decade of fashion beckons to be worn and I don't want to miss out on the new Versace skirt!

Nouveau Hipsters

As I sipped my latte at Chango's today, I felt glad that I'm no longer a hipster. The new generation of hipsters, if you can even call them that, just doesn't have it. In fact, they seem forced and retarded and really don't know how to dress, having grown up with too many Old Navy commercials. In fact, even Chango's isn't the same with its new paint job and selling coconut water. And the stupid-ass fixed gear bikes parked out front.

Brilliant Weight Loss Idea!

My Dad today had the following, never-before-heard-of, weight-loss suggestion: you simply eat fewer calories than your body needs. So, basically, you eat fewer calories every day than what your caloric needs are. And you can also eat foods with fewer calories. Wow! Amazing! Armed with this brilliant piece of advice, nothing stands between me and a Posh Spice body!

My Pretty

I finally gave in to my suspicion and flat out asked my parents if they have been treating me differently, or like me less, since I gained weight. My Dad said he had to put the tiramisu into the refrigerator and my Mom said: We still like you. It's just that you're less pretty now.

Blogs, Schmogs

I should have known better than to apply as a guest blogger for a mom site that writes about puppies and basketball and DRY Sodas, which came out like 4 years ago. Go on, stick with your mediocre shit. Your loss, not mine!

New Study: Moths Favor Burberry!

Speaking of Burberry. And not speaking of the so-called thing called Burberry that you see around the necks of Asian women of a certain age hiking in Griffith Park. I mean, real cute Burberry. Moths ate it. It's one thing to eat my H&M tops. But at Burberry I draw the line!

The Chocolate Truffle Disappears - alas not for good...

When I sauntered into work today, dressed up in red lipstick and a Burberry scarf, in anticipation of meeting ascot-sporting higher ups who had flown in from Paris, the chocolate truffle was not sitting at his desk. Instead, it was his colleague, the nice Mexican man with the moustache. Oh what relief not to have to avert my eyes and pretend I'm checking my stocks on the overhead projector TV thingie. But at 5pm, as I excited the elevator into the lobby, there sat Jabba the African Hutt with a wide grin on his toady face. I almost tripped. Then I simply walked on, fat and all.

Chill Out

You gotta chill out, says my Mom. You really are on edge. You're horrible to be around! Yeah, well, maybe it's because you're calling Milan's award-winning daycare "an old dump" and are furtively feeding him gummi bears before breakfast. I mean, I know that's what "normal" grandmas are supposed to do, feeding candy and shit, but we were brought up on sparkling mineral water, butter lettuce and sautéed liver! Come on!

Hot Toddy?

I'm not good at being sick, which I think I mentioned before. How can you write when every single hair on your head is crying out in pain? I almost passed out on top of M. when changing his diaper. Hence, his diaper tends to be pretty full this week. Need loads of Xanax to slow down the thoughts in my murky mind, which all whisper: swine flu. Bah-humbug. Just a little virus, which my good friend K. said a hot toddy would cure. Better, indeed, than M' hot teddy, which I've been clutching in fevered delirium.

Gag Reflex - Withheld

I'm a hypocrite. When the cute drummer sweetly said I still look sexy, even fat, and that he played on the album of Pete Yorn (who, by the way, was not kicked out of Footsies; that was yours truly) and Scarlett Jo., I didn't say: Really? Gag me with a spoon! I said: Oh, wow, that's cool.

Little House and the Hash Pipe

Laura Ingalls Wilder smoked hash according to a new bio. Or maybe she made hash? Or hash she imbibed mushrrrroooms from the prairie? So what.

Chinless?

You would think that you need a chin to become famous. A chin to be a man eater. A chin just to "chin-chin" with a Champagne cocktail. Not so with my latest obsession, Lady Idina Sackville. Come to think, did Zelda have a chin? Anaiis Nin?

Winking

I think I winked at someone at work yesterday. It was a total involuntary reflex. The weird thing is, I have never ever winked at anyone in my entire life before. I must have been possessed by Bettie Page. Or Dolly Parton. This is the same guy who just started wearing his wedding ring due to a bet. What the heck? But the winking incident and the fact that I did not think about the feckin chocolate truffle all week, is a good sign. The chocolate truffle has become the Invisible Man. But he's so dumb, he wouldn't know about black nationalism, Marxism, and the racial policies of Booker T. Washington.

Swingers

At the Wild Boar this week, X. said: remember we were here 3 years ago when it was the Chalet and your friends Y and Z wanted to "swing" with us? Oh, yes, I remember, I said. And Z owed me $500 for a Vegas trip. Still does. But the point is, X said, if you wanted to swing with "someone in a band," it would have to be Mick Jagger. Totally.

Secret Agent Top 10

I miss Svetlana. Doll, this is for you:

1. pomegranate seeds
2. the new Flaming Lips album
3. the fat flush
4. Lady Idina Sackville, also known as the "Bolter"
5. Edwardian decadence
6. Mad Men
7. anything Christmas
8. mom and dad
9. Milan's new Jimi T
10. Russian nutcrackers (not Russian dads with a fat fetish who have since moved back to the UK and their wife and kids and are finally out of my life!)

Jeggings

Things I won't wear this season: jeggings, 90s blazers, boyfriend anything, 6-inch heels, hairbands. Things I will wear: military jackets, cowl scarves, 80s gloves, anything purple.

Mantra: Say No to Jeggings if You Weigh > 140 lbs

Traffic School

Traffic School sucks. But at least I can blog in a blankie sipping espresso instead of sitting in a popcorn-ceilinged office swishing stale coffee in a styrofoam cup, aging ten years and listening to bad jokes. But it does suck, and I wonder if I've used up my good cop karma.

Lets Make Sexy?

Three people called me sexy this week. Unreal! Calling the pink elephant sexy! But they did: my husband, a guy at work I'm sure would love to see my Victoria's Secrets and a very cute drummer in a band. What gives, peeps?

Bon Mots

Certain words I'm just not 100 percent clear on, such as extradition, hemorrhoids, irony, people saying should of, bouchon and crepuscular. Does the latter really describe animals that are mostly active during twilight? Like most of LA's commuters? Or does it refer to a crusty old man with ingrown toe nails?

Happy Fucking What Holidays?

Season's Greetings, motherfuckers. Happy motherfucking holidays. What holidays? Christmas is a nono, being white supremacist voodoo. Kwanza then? A phony holiday made up in the 60s to make negroes feel integrated? Or Hanukkah, a real, deeply religious true celebration of the rededication of the Holy Temple in Jerusalem? Then why oh why do we continue to decorate store windows with christmas wreaths and Santas and ho-ho-hos? But pretend the word Christmas doesn't exist, cause it might offend somebody. So seasons greetings to all your morons!

Holidays Owls

Every hipster Christmas tree needs owl ornaments. Really. The easiest way to show you're "with it." I just got some at Target. But better: http://www.inhabitots.com/2009/11/21/invite-stewart-the-owl-home-for-the-holidays/

Really Simple Syndication

It's easy to get left behind as a techno-dinosaur, being a thirty-something-something-something web editor. I'm still not clear on a .png and someone today asked me for an RSS or Really Simple Syndication. Yikes. I feel like my 85-year-old grandma trying to send an email.

Sexting

Sexting feels weird. Pornographic. And I am not a prude. But I cannot get myself to type "oh, baby, I want to stitch your sock. I want you to foam me so hard. Cower all over my pots."

Stalled Behaviour

I wonder if all people automatically head for the same bathroom stall at work, every time they need to pee. And I wonder if that stall, being the most visited, has the most cooties.