hypegirl

Not a Dry Eye In The House. Oh, Except Mine

2006-11-25T16:36:00.000-08:00

It is true that I have been completely slacking when it comes to the blog. I should now just assume it is going to be a quarterly. Like a fine literary journal but without the compelling fiction.

It is not as though interesting things haven't happened -- we went to Vancouver, Hawaii, San Francisco. I had an art opening, Sofia started walking. Oh quite a few happenings. Quite a few. But somehow, they just didn't seem like blog fodder. Or, I was just over the blogging.

So what inspires me today? My own idiocy.

Yes, this morning I was getting showered and dressed in a hurry with the little one (now 14 months) noodling in and around my legs, wanting to play. Somehow in my haste I went from applying antiperspirant to touching my eye and got a great gooey glob of the Maxim right in the old left socket. Stumbling around, a moved as quickly as I could from the bathroom to the kitchen (no clothes, front door open) to rinse out the eye, which was now clamped shut from the stinging pain. And drying. Just like Mitchum should. On one's armpits. While I rinse out the offending goo I beg my husband to call the insurance nurse's line or look online to see if blindness is imminent all the while the baby, not understanding what the hell is going on, is tapping on my still wet and naked leg, wanting me read the children's classic "Brown Bear, Brown Bear What Do You See?" To which I could honestly answer, "Not a whole f*%$%$ing lot."

Wash, rinse, repeat and then go to the Emergency. While I was there, I rinsed again because the only person who seemed to have compassion and the will to help was the check in security guy who, after around an hour, had me read a sign to check my vision and advised me I could probably go home. Wanting to avoid some horrendous emergency bill and seeing no doctor care in sight (oh yes, pun intended), I called Jeffrey and advised him that I was cured or, since it was a security guard, cleared to go..and I would be walking the three blocks home.

So I would officially like to change the old Haste Makes Waste adage and update it with Haste Makes Pain. And I have also learned that pain + time = comedy or, at the very least, something worthwhile to blog.

Poetry Spam

2006-08-24T11:07:00.000-07:00

I've noticed a trend towards including text that reads like poetry or part of a short story -- a kind of written exquisite corpse for those selling Canadian prescriptions and the latest stock tips. Here is a recent example:

Much next one second.
People sentence their before out without.
Answer land school want may.
Use very animals soon of some water between that.

Any next again they under found.
See different learn another an three saw me down.
Big go took because many when.
Near need sound miles.
Took part parts like each a take right then.

Words well then kind all.
We better hard saw took need only word.
Left come that have help she off them second man.
Since whole miles him small hear they miles.
Last part several important years through.

Had across same whole years there do.
This across earth end line this picture can.
Year had feet earth year earth always then.
Line came like without been then.
Was through where she while change.
These things where side well near were the than ways.

Tree People

2006-08-17T21:14:00.000-07:00

Well I don't know whether to be horrified or annoyed, but I just did a quick search and found out that these faces are a common accoutrement you can buy at many a garden store.

Buy why oh why oh why????

Freak Face Trees Are Multiplying

2006-08-17T21:04:00.000-07:00

I don't want to be paranoid, but what else could I feel when I came upon THIS while strolling along in Shell Beach, CA, a few hundred miles from my street. Yes, there I was enjoying a weekend in the central coast wine region sans bebe no less, when I tuned to appreciate a quaint motel. As quick as you can say Bates, I jumped back in shock. The tree face freaks had struck. Or at least migrated to Small Beach Town USA.

So...to paraphrase a famous question: if a tree smiles on the street and there is only one person to be afraid, is it still scary?

PT. 2: Fearing The Fir

2006-07-10T08:19:00.000-07:00

They are multiplying. The freaky faced tree now has a doppleganger directly across the street. Same omnipresent smile and bugged out eyes, this one with a trace of spiderweb because, apparently, the creep factor needed to be taken up a notch.

The tree sits in a yard surrounded by that icon of Americana, the white picket fence. Which in the 21st century seems to favor wood-grain embossed plastic as its contruction medium.

I'm off for my morning walk...wish me luck.

Just Leaf Me Alone

2006-07-03T20:52:00.000-07:00

Our neighborhood is a friendly, wave to people, know the business owners kind of place. With cheery, tree-lined streets...wait, did I say "cheery"? Well now I stand corrected. There is one tree on our street that can only be described with a word that begins with C and has the same number of letters. You guessed it crossword buffs: Creepy.

It looks like the spawn of a devilish clown and a maple tree. The unholy Diablo Deciduous.

I'm Very Jolli

2006-06-20T20:37:00.000-07:00

Truth be known, I haven't eaten here. Still, Jollibee is my favorite fast food restaurant. And for a woman who hasn't eaten at a major chain for a decade, this is...well I don't know what it is really. A confession?

Anyway, check out this link: http://www.jollibee.com.ph/products.htm. I love the name Chickenjoy. Passing one of the stores (there are 10) in Los Angeles, I actually thought this place was a film set.

Oh and good news: Kids will be seeing a lot more of Jolibee in school through Jollibee's Values Education Program. Pretty please (with Jolli on top) sign me up!

Me & The Peanut

2006-06-19T21:50:00.000-07:00

An Opening In The Insensitivity Department

2006-06-16T20:21:00.000-07:00

This morning I was jarred into realizing how ridiculous, if not downright racist, it is that disposable bandages are "flesh" colored, and that hue is a pasty pink. Clearly, so few people -- if any -- have skin to match. In fact, if you do you might want to see a dermatologist.

The reason this came to mind was that I was behind a very dark skinned black man at the post office and he had two "flesh" colored Band Aids on his head. They did not blend in. In fact, they looked so shockingly out of place that some of the cartoon character designs would have probably been less distracting, less curious looking.

I think if they can make bandages in all sorts of shapes and patterns, why can't we have various shades? Like foundation, shouldn't we be able to choose our perfect match? I realize that those of us with freckles really pose a problem, so I am willing to be somewhat forgiving. But really, If someone has a blemish or cuts themselves shouldn't they be able to attempt to hide the fact that they need to heal? Or if we aren't going to hide it, at least give us something better than the horrible pigment dubbed "flesh". Shout it out to the world, then, but just don't do it with the color of a can of old salmon.

Multi-Media

2006-06-12T21:25:00.000-07:00

My husband Jeffrey is reading with the TV on mute. If I asked him about it he would undoubtedly offer some explanation about waiting for a show but I honestly think he finds the dancing, flickering light comforting. Like an animated night light.

When my sister and I were kids we had a babysitter whom I deemed a "freak" because he would read and listen to the radio at the same time and, obviously, normal people would find this confusing if not impossible.

What would Marshall McLuhan say?

Bad Luck Does Come In Threes

2006-06-02T20:19:00.000-07:00

Today the baby had a cold, my husband had food poisoning and my mother-in-law, while helping babysit, tripped and fell on her face, smashing her lip and chipping a tooth in the process. And yet I am in a good mood. Just another wacky day, and one hell of a TGIF.

Super Size Me, Baby

2006-05-24T20:11:00.000-07:00

In a society growing ever fatter, clothiers assuage our guilt by changing size labels -- so that a size 10 of yesteryear is now a 6. Talk about some fashion spin.

In the infant world, those truly tiny ones among us, this phenomenon is turned on its ear as children's sizes are labeled larger for smaller. In other words, a 6 month old can wear 9 - 12 month sized clothing. Have you seen an article of clothing described as "true sizing"? Those wacky folks actually label the clothing to suit the age. With the rest of the infant garments, woe to us hapless new parents -- confusion and too small clothing abounds.

Ever struggle to get a dress onto a protesting 6 month old because the damn thing says that age? Meanwhile your child's arms are being bent in ways known only to a few yoga masters, all the while she's giving you a look that says, "I will never, never forgive you." Yes, we are all frustrated. And cute clothes are going unworn.

Now please excuse me as I go change into something more comfortable. This size 6 is starting to pinch.

Daily Candy With Fries

2006-05-17T14:47:00.000-07:00

Random annoyance: You know Daily Candy has jumped the shark when it offers an email blast about McDonald's.

She Told Me To Walk This Way

2006-05-10T08:21:00.000-07:00

Just noticed: Someone in our neighborhood has gone around the various walk signal signs (the ones above the button) and changed the man in pants to a figure in a skirt, some plain white and others with small colorful details. I will try to take a photo so you can see these tiny art pieces.

Wipe That Smile Right Off Of Your Round, Yellow Orb

2006-05-01T15:58:00.000-07:00

There seems to be some contentiousness in the world of the happy face. This text was found on a site that offered "Smileys" for PC (not Mac) users:

"Some internet companies have copied our icons by using yellow, round faces to express various feelings. Those companies are counterfeiters and are being sued for their infringment of our Intellectual property. We believe that use by others of yellow, round faces as icons is damaging to our Intellectual property. If other parties really wanted to be different from us, they would use a color other than yellow, or an oval face, for example, to make their icons dissimilar to ours. Additionally, they could add distinguishing ears or a nose to their face-shaped icons."

Let me quickly go off on a tangent and ask, why the random capitalization and lack of spell check? Talk about adding humor.

Now, on the one hand, I think people could use distinguishing noses and ears for originality's sake -- though eyes being the window to the soul and all that they might bring more expression to the experience than ears. But I am not sure (having done little more than taken a passing glance at this site) that this company really can say that they are the originators of the round, yellow smiling (or otherwise) face. They are, however, the registered owner of the name Smiley, which leaves me wide open for a big fat lawsuit for not using the appropriate registration mark. Would they send a cease and desist complete with round, yellow faces to express various feelings including Your Ass Is Ours? I guess I will have to wait and see.

Put On A Happy Face

2006-05-01T15:52:00.000-07:00

First, let me say I am not a smiley face kind of person. In fact, I have never written a note on paper and added a cute smile anywhere. But somehow I appreciate emoticons on IM. The ones that are built into the system so that they actually appear as graphic icons, not the typed squiggles people favor in emails. Why? Because they add unnecessary emphasis and, thus, can be used to spice up the hilarity of a conversation as quickly as you can say :-*.

But I have iChat and I must say that the stock emoticons offered are really limited, hard to read (foot in mouth), out of balance (angel, but no devil) or difficult to interpret (money mouth?). Seeking help in this realm, I did a quick web search only to find challenging programming, expensive software, lame designs and incompatibility with Macs. This final affront proves that there is a serious void that can be filled by designers, especially those with a sense of humor. Wait, that could be the root of the problem -- – emoticons are not being designed, they are being programmed. And not for the creative community. Do any of us really need an animated smiley picking its nose? What is that supposed to imply to the reader?

"“Guess what? I saw an amazing film last night? Oh and I have a disgusting personal habit I wanted to share too...."

I asked my husband if he ever received emails where people used emoticons and he said, "No one smiles when they send me an email."

So if anyone out there wants to design some cool smiley faces, better make some nicely designed bitter or cynical ones while you are at it.

Insert Bad Pun About Rabbits Here

2006-04-15T20:36:00.000-07:00

Sofia appreciates what we are calling the holiday or, truthfully, gives in to my whim and fancy.

Yes, I dress her up for my amusement. I can already see the eye rolling when, as a teen, goes through her baby photos. It's a rite of passage -- balking at how your parents clothed you when you were too young to express preference. Then later you reconsider as the styles become acceptable again or you get hit with a big blast of nostalgia.

It just occurred to me that this week I introduced carrots (blended) into sofia's diet. We also fed her some matzoh too in case you people think it is all about the pagan ritual. As my sister once said, "we do what's fun." So if the holiday has to do with repenting, we skip it. But if celebration and revelry is at its heart, then by all means.

2006-04-06T12:21:00.000-07:00

So I called the sketch artist, hoping it was a kid -- you know, a modern-day version of the lemonade stand -- but instead it was a kind of nervous and blue sounding women named Rosie.

Now the humor and charm of the poster has taken a slight downturn. Not sure if I should call back and have a sketch done, or if I should just let it go. On the one hand, I could end up with a great (or wonderfully kooky) sketch. But the emotional cost might be more than the advertised $10 dollars.

I'm the kind of person that delights in the quirky but also feels bummed out at an empty restaurant even if I know the food is horrible. Unless I am certain the owners are awful people, I immediately have a sinking feeling thinking about them pouring their hopes and dreams into the restaurant and waiting, waiting, waiting for people to show. But I don't feel so bad, it seems, to patronize the restaurant. Nice & helpful, huh?

So in this case do I call and help her with the entrepreneurship, or just imagine her world and project feelings that may or may not be true? Is it like watching a person attempt to flag down the bus you are on and not alerting the driver?

Of course Rosie might be perfectly happy drawing ANYTHING in her spare time and would call me an idiot for even giving it this much thought.

Do you want a drawing or not, honey?

The Entrepreneur

2006-03-30T20:27:00.000-08:00

Found all over my neighborhood.

I am so tempted. I am so tempted. I am so tempted.

Happy Endings?

2006-03-25T21:23:00.001-08:00

Tonight I saw a nutty billboard. It was an ad for a cemetery and it presented a photo of an older, smiling woman half straddling a tippy looking tricycle in the middle of the road. The billboard read:

I am going in style. Talk about it.

Which, obviously, was meant to associate a fun-loving, carpe diem feeling with this final resting place and to encourage people to discuss their burial plans.

But what it looked like to me was: I am a drunken woman who went on a bender, rode a tricycle in the middle of the road and was struck down by a speeding Porche. Woo hoo! I sure went out in style. Now the neighbors will talk about it.

It's All A Matter Of Perspective

2006-03-24T11:59:00.000-08:00

I used to say that my online persona was horrible because I only received spam about bankruptcy, impotence and the occasional sexual deviance. Clearly I am a loser in cyberspace.

And then....

Before I became a parent I was issued a password from a website -- hipmom -- and I was kind of insulted because I surmised the company thought I was kind of groovy, for a "mom type." Which, to my mind, was not exactly the pinnacle of cool. Now that I am a mother I only hope to live up to the password.

If I can be a hipmom then I have got it made.

Clearly I have issues...and they don't just reside online.

Super Premium Spooky

2006-03-23T21:52:00.000-08:00

Today I had to write a press release about a commercial for Esso (Exxon in the US) that ran prolifically during the Olympics. (Yeah, a little late on this one). Anyway, it brought to mind a memory:

When I was twelve, Esso ran a promotion wherein they gave away mini witchcraft books featuring a kind of sexy, Elvira type witch on the cover and spells of various kinds within. My friend and I used to sit in her walk in closet, walls adorned with posters and images of teen heartthrobs of the day (read: Leif Garrett), and practice our sacred black magic.

From the pages of an Esso gas promotion book.

Now that I work in an advertising-related business, I am really, really curious as to how that client promotion pitch must have gone. Where they attempting to build brand loyalty by creating cadres of mini witches in the making? Did the love potion recipe include a vial of petroleum? And how did the ad agency intend to lure parents in to the filling station with this offering? I would have loved to have been in on that presentation.

Yet, I do remember the book. And the sponsor. But do I make sure to fill up exclusively at Exxon stations? I would, if I could configure a spell for free gas.

Being a mom makes you paranoid.

2006-03-23T21:46:00.000-08:00

This morning, I saw a spider climbing up the shower wall. "Spiders are good. They kill other bugs," said the voice in my head. The courteous voice that tells people the things you should say. Like "Don't litter." And "Be kind to the elderly." Then I thought that I honestly didn't know a great deal about spiders and what if this seemingly harmless brown spider went into the baby's room, bit her, and she had a terrible allergic reaction?

So I squished the spider and washed its remains down the drain.

Being a mom makes you paranoid. And a killer.

As a start

2006-03-23T21:43:00.000-08:00