Archive Page 2


Blondes, Boobs, and Beckham’s Balls

That’s right friends… Beckham’s balls in all their photoshopped glory.

 Wow. What a package!


Where, you ask?

Not at the porn shoppe, no.

Thursday afternoon, April 2, 2009, at the ghetto salon where I’m now getting my hair done.

I had to do a video shoot for work last week so I went in for a quick cut and a little color and came out COMPLETELY SOILED. My new hairdresser, Natalie, was clipping away when a blonde with a removable ponytail came waltzing in talking about Organics and a new salon in the avenues. She was a total character from one of the Real Housewives Of series and I was digging her until next thing I know she and Nat have me pinned under the dryer and are forcing me to check out all the nudies on Nat’s laptop. She showed me a full body of Beckham and several close-ups of his member, followed by a heart-shaped, pink-dyed Julie she did for one her clients at Valentines. (Only $40!) Needless to say I was STUNNED and sat there like a complete dork trying to figure out if I should laugh, cry, or run screaming from the building.

My friend Tony says she was trying to hit on me. Strange love indeed.


The Power of Nice

I work in a pretty nice office tower in the booming metropolis of Sandy, UT, where friends, families, and mormons abound. When I first moved to “Zion” back in ’94 I believed that living amongst the saints would change me for the better…that in all their piety and perfection they’d be the most happy and friendly people on the planet. (I also thought I’d date A TON because these boys would know to look on my heart and not my bounteous wrapping.) Not so much.

Most folks around here act as if they’d rather be shot than make eye contact with a stranger, which brings me back to the elevators in our building. We pile in there, push our respective buttons and then pretend to text or stare straight forward so as not to have to feel bad for refusing to make nicey nice with the other people inside. I hate this, but like a sheep, have followed protocol.

This morning, just in on the basement level from the cold and freaking rain a woman I don’t know actually held the doors for me and then said with a bright and cheery smile, “Good Morning! How are you?” I almost passed out. She was getting off on 5, me on 7, so we chatted about the crappy weather for 6 floors and when the door opened for her to depart she looked me straight in the eye and said,” Have a FABULOUS day,” and I believe she actually meant it. 

And so I will.

In fact, I’ll go beyond having a fabulous day. I’ll tell other people to have a fabulous day too. For one week I vow to say hello to someone on the elevator every time I get on there. And I vow to tell them to have a fabulous day even if they don’t talk back and look at me like I’m a freak from happyville.


What I’m Reading

oscar1Amazon Best of the Month, September 2007:

It’s been 11 years since Junot Díaz’s critically acclaimed story collection, Drown, landed on bookshelves and from page one of his debut novel, The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao, any worries of a sophomore jinx disappear. The titular Oscar is a 300-pound-plus “lovesick ghetto nerd” with zero game (except for Dungeons & Dragons) who cranks out pages of fantasy fiction with the hopes of becoming a Dominican J.R.R. Tolkien. The book is also the story of a multi-generational family curse that courses through the book, leaving troubles and tragedy in its wake. This was the most dynamic, entertaining, and achingly heartfelt novel I’ve read in a long time. My head is still buzzing with the memory of dozens of killer passages that I dog-eared throughout the book. The rope-a-dope narrative is funny, hip, tragic, soulful, and bursting with desire. Make some room for Oscar Wao on your bookshelf–you won’t be disappointed. –Brad Thomas Parsons


Dr. Odd

O and Odd



I woke up with a migraine and opted to take the morning (read “I really thought I’d get to work by noon…”) off, rather than subject my team to another 8 hours of my doldrums. (Period next week. Shoot me.) I slept until 1:15 or so , so I missed The View but made damn sure I was showered and shaved by 4:00 for Oprah.

Why is it that EVERY TIME I get the freak opportunity to watch my Beloved (pun intended) she’s holding a liver with Dr. Oz??? Are they getting it on ? I love you O, but you’re killing me. Mr. scrubbie pants HAS GOT TO GO!


Pizza Hut is Hiring Team Members

Fool's Caravan, shown here at right.I don’t know about yours, but my television has magical powers. If I opt to plop in front of it, I’m there for hours. (Yipee, I made a rhyme!!!) Zoe can climb on top of the fridge during Dancing with the Freaking Stars, and I’d have a tough time coming to her rescue. It’s a disease. The uncontrolled tendency to veg.

Anyway, it’s Sunday so we watched Amazing Race and it was in India. After AR, DH. And after DH, B&S.

Noteworthy in AR was a fabulous line from some random dude competing with his 68 year-old father. They were in a cab heading towards a camel project, when random noted all the other cabs with AR hopefuls vying for position in the line up. “Caravan of fools,” he said. Fabulous. Simply fabulous.

Anyway, I found an interesting theme in TV madness this evening, and it’s left me a little concerned. It seems that women who try to “have it all” as Oprah, I’m sure, has said, suffer from drama. Each and every one.

The duo of darling blonds who were unfortunately the “last to arrive” were both motivated to take on the AR because of their children. One doesn’t actually have children, but in the off chance that she might one day, wanted to “do something for herself” before takling  reproduction. And the other “missed her daughter terribly,” choosing both to leave and to lead her; to teach her that life is what we make it.

On DW nut-job Orsen convinced Bree to sell her business because her success was detracting from his happiness and therefore their marriage (and emasculating him SLICE BY SLICE, in case we needed a visual). And on B&S ol’ nasty Holly (who I love to hate) traded planning for an upcoming board meting for a $50 pizza, all to pacify the loser baby-daddy who left her high and dry when doe-eyed Rebecca was in diapers. Even Kitty, now never shown if not canoodling a plastic baby doll with white hands although she adopted an African-American child, can no longer communicate with her husband the would-be president. She now finds fulfillment chatting up a widower about burping and what not down at the neighborhood playground.

I know these people aren’t real.

But we are.

Zobina, I love you. Edwardino, love you too.


Note Worthy

Markings from the Mayhem: Thursday, March 18

11:00 am Weight Watchers New Member Meeting

– 31 points for daily munching. Hooray!  (Total points for Noodles & Co. mac & cheese: 12.) (Oh my.)

– No need to drink H2O. Slug down six 8-ounce glasses of something other than beer and we’re golden. (Oh my.)


1:30 pm Lunch Meeting with LaMar Lisman

– LaMar: “There’s Marcie something or other. I haven’t seen her in years. She looks like hell.”

– Faustina lunch special: chicken sandwich with avocado and garlic aioli, side salad with yummy crunchy beets, apple bread pudding. Cost $10. Weight Watchers points: 100. (Oh my.)


6:30 pm National Speaker’s Association Monthly Chapter Meeting w/Patricia Fripp

– “What if…” The two words that all creative professionals have used since the beginning of time  to solve their client’s problems.

– “People don’t remember what we say. They remember the picture we create in their minds.”


9:35 pm Driving Home

Zoe: “Binky?”

Mom: “We don’t have a binky sweetheart. You threw it out the window last night because binkys are for babies. Remember?”

Zoe: “All gone?”

Mom: “Yes, all gone. Binkys are for babies. Not for big girls. Are you a big girl?”

Zoe: “Zoe? Baby.”

(Oh my.)


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