Artwork and Politics

We're hunting for artwork for our institutionally white walls.

We've put up an Almost Famous poster and ordered a very cool, very film noir Veronica Mars poster:



Dan and I are big TV/movie people and wanted to find artwork reflective of us and our tastes as opposed to just slapping up something generic like a Parisian cityscape or a black-and-white image of a mountain.

Now, I'm trying to find cool typographical art (we're both writers. This only makes sense) and something for the kitchen that relates to food without being:

A) Cutesy in that faux country farmhouse way
B) An advertisement for alcohol.

The more I think about it, the more I like the idea of song lyrics printed in bold-colored cardstock. Something like this:



I think it could work.

On a more political note, I've noticed Republicans been making a lot of snide comments about Barack Obama's "celebrity" status. According to them, celebrity status should be vilified. Well, I'd like to bring something to their attention. Ronald Reagan was not only an actor, but president of the Screen Actor's Guild. I.E. -- a pretty big celebrity.

A little less hypocrisy and bullshit goes a long way, guys. Just sayin'. Oh and speaking of bullshit, regarding McCain's vice-presidential pick, Sarah Palin?

Bwahahahahahahahahah!

I can't wait to see Joe Biden eviscerate her in the debates. Ms. Palin doesn't stand a chance.

I want a West Beverly High t-shirt.

Just how much of a complete douchebag does that make me?

Yeah....that's what I thought.

They fell in love, didn't they?

Rachel McAdams and Ryan Gosling are back together.



Which gives me a great excuse to post this clip.

We were having a conversation about The Notebook at work and a majority of the ladies at the office would pick Lon Hammond Jr. (played by James Marsden) over Noah Calhoun (played by Ryan Gosling).

Dub tee eff?!

Yes, Hammond (played by James Marsden) is rich, charming and good-looking...



...but come on!

Noah built Allie her dream house! And he's a poet! And he looks like this!



In my world, love > money every time.

I guess that's why I'm marrying a writer who kisses me twenty times a day and sings to me instead of a CEO who's never home.

Saukrates - Money or Love

Holy Shit, I Love You! Part One

Yes, originally uploaded by CrissyAlright.

The first in a series of random things that I love. Holy shit.

+ The new issue of Nylon Magazine. It's the TV issue and I've gotta say it's probably my favorite one yet.
+ The new 90210. I'm excited for it...even if there isn't any Brenda-Kelly-Dylan drama afoot ("Brenda, I'm a Spring Princess!" "Kelly, I don't give a damn!")
+ C.O. Bigelow Rose Salve. It smells delicious and is Carrie Bradshaw approved.
+ Diet Coke.
+ Bobby Darin.
+ These giraffe-print Dr. Scholl slides. Totally cute, totally comfy and giraffe print is the new black. Trust the girl who lives in jeans and flip flops.
+ The music in Can't Hardly Wait. I would definitely buy a complete compilation -- Third Eye Blind, Sublime, Dire Straits (is there a clause in Ethan Embry's contract that requires all movies starring him to feature this song? He danced to it in Empire Records as well), Missy Elliot, Guns 'N Roses, Busta Rhymes, Barry Manilow Boyz II Men and Nazareth?! Come on -- that's a killer party mix.
+ Springfield Punx. Ever wondered what Tobias Funke would look like if he cameoed on The Simpsons? Check it out. Dean T. Fraser is a pretty talented guy.



The breakfast I had at the Nectar Coffee Shop on Madison Avenue in New York City. The coffee was the best I've ever had in my life (everything else tastes like muddy dish water in comparison), the bialy was delicious and the whole thing cost me less than $5! Holy shit, I loved it and will definitely be making a return visit.

They should call it FuckDonalds.

I hate McDonalds for a litany of reasons:

- Their mascot is a clown. Clowns are terrifying. John Wayne Gacy used to dress up as a clown. He was a serial killer. Think about it.

- Their food is terrible -- the fries don't taste anything like potatoes and don't disintegrate like real food should, they have a staggering lack of vegetarian options (even Burger King offers a thoroughly mediocre veggie burger) and their McFlurries end up giving you the McFlurries. Disgusting, but true.

- Breakfast stops at 10:30 a.m. as opposed to 11:00 a.m (Thank you, Big Daddy). Trying to order breakfast after 10:30 a.m. is like trying to get George W. Bush to pronounce the word 'Nuclear' correctly -- a damn near impossible and thoroughly futile task.

I rarely, if ever, patronize this franchise but Dan wanted a chicken sandwich and since Chik-Fil-A is closed on Sundays, we decided to hit up the McDonalds' Drive Thru.

It's 10:33 a.m.
Breakfast is over.
Has been for three minutes.

If you try and order an Egg McMuffin, I'm fairly sure that red and yellow stormtroopers will come out and attempt to drown you in a vat of secret sauce.

Luckily for us -- the chicken sandwich is on the lunch menu. The number eight. A lucky number in some culture. Not for us, though.

I pull up to the drive-thru and place my order, speaking loudly and clearly so nothing will get lost in translation:

Jaime: Hi! Can I get the number eight chicken sandwich and a Coke, please?
Drive-Thru Dude: (garble garble) Numba eight? (garble garble)
Jaime: Yeah -- the number eight chicken sandwich and a Coke.
Drive Thru Dude: (garble garble) $5.40 (garble, garble).

I pull up to the cash window, fork over my money and proceed to the pick-up window.

I pick up my food and am about to drive off when Dan realize that instead of a chicken sandwich, the bag contains a Sausage McGriddle.

Dan: This is wrong.
Jaime: The entire concept of McDonalds is wrong.
Dan: No, this isn't a chicken sandwich. This is a Sausage McGriddle.

The guy behind us blares his horn. Calm down, asshole. You'll get your artery-clogging garbage in a minute.

I tell Window Guy that the order is wrong.

Jaime: Hi! Sorry, but this isn't what we ordered.
Window Guy: What did you order?
Jaime: The number eight -- a chicken sandwich.
Window Guy: The number eight is a Sausage McGriddle.
Jaime: But it's past 10:30 and the board outside says "Number 8 -- Southern Style Chicken Sandwich."
Window Guy: Board's broken. Number eight's a Sausage McGriddle.
Jaime: But I said chicken sandwich and breakfast is over.
Window Guy: Number eight's a Sausage McGriddle.

Goddamn it.

We're going round in circles and the guy behind me is practically apoplectic, so I admit defeat and drive off, sans sandwich.

Dan bites into his sandwich and discovers that a McGriddle tastes like a syrup-and-grease coated hockey puck while I remember that my ex used to work at McDonalds and is now in the military. I am suddenly very, very scared for the future of our country.

I abide by the rules of McDonalds' facist breakfast regime and still manage to get screwed.

I'm not lovin' it.

I had a dream last night and it fit me like a glove

I keep having the same dream.

I win the lottery, move to Los Angeles and get my masters and doctorate at UCLA.

Lottery dreams usually consist of cars, mansions, designer shoes and travel to exotic locales.

Mine involve higher education.

Pffttt....even in my dreams, I'm a square.