109 Pineapples for Child Sit-Com Stars Rumored To Be People They're Not. Yea. Hmm.

Today I was thinking about that-show-from-the-80s-with-Vicky-the-Robot. Upon quickly googling "Vicky the Robot Show," I remembered: Small Wonder. Oh yes, yes.

Oh, I loved that show. A girl with a plastic back hiding lots of buttons and wires! Hmm? Cool!

The funny thing? Checking out imdb, neither Vicky nor Jamie (the bro) did shit after the show got canned.

How could such a brilliant show be a career-ender?

Although... Brian Austin Green and Devon Odessa did a few episodes, and they both went on to score mild fame in teen dramas... so hey, all is not lost.

ALSO: weird rumor that I'd like to bring back: the one that posits that the kid who played Jamie was actually Billy Corgan.

Come to think of it, wasn't there another rumor that the older brother from Mr.Belvedere was actually Marilyn Manson? Or did I just think that?

Update: The Marilyn Manson/Rob Stone from Mr.Belevedere thing... a "real rumor."

What's up with this rumor motif?
I mean, whatever, fine. Spread this one: Simon Cowell was actually the little brother, Albert, on Little House on the Prairie.
All true.

182 Pineapples for Holy, Holy Matrimony

First off, I'd like to report that Dolly the Beagle (see yesterday's post) has been reunited with her original owner. Raise your glass for sweet Dolly! Now raise it again! Oh, go on, finish that. Unless it's milk; that's gross.

Secondly, I have a new television fascination.
There I was, this afternoon, doing a little pre-Spring cleaning of my apartmento, flipping through channels, and I hear the teaser:

"Meet Lauren and David, 21-year-old Christian virgins ready to tie the knot."


OH OH OH--- SO GOOD! TOO GOOD! I truly don't deserve this.

That's right... an actual, real, honest-to goodness show called Engaged & Underage.

Let me give you some snippets from the show notes, just so you can understand a bit of this thick and gooey brilliance of this show:

Lauren has been living with David's family in Florida, and the two plan to move into their cottage on his parents' property... As the couple makes plans to find the perfect B&B to spend their first night together, David's mom asks to see pictures of the location. Lauren hopes to set a line between his mother and their sex life, but David can't seem to understand why his future bride finds the situation weird...

Come on! This is such gold.

All She Needs is One Mulligan

If anyone can have a dog and wants one, please think about Dolly.

Look at her pretty eyes!

2 Mulligans for 2 Degrees

When I left for my run this morning, it was 2 degrees.

That isn't even a real temperature.

That is, like, "how many pieces of toast I want," not, like, a weather indication.

Boston is foolish.

25 Pineapples for an Old Hat

I need a new winter hat.

Now let me tell you why.

Today, coming out of the cobbler shop (the shoe guy, not the dessert), I fell down on hard, cold pavement. Because my stupid bowl-hat is too big. And my dainty (not dainty) noggin gets swallowed by it.

So, incidentally, I was walking back to work after lunch, and I spot this cute, crocheted off-white hat. But only not in a store. In a bush. Like someone had dropped it, and someone else picked it up and put it on bush display. (This was interesting to me, as I tend to see this most often done with baby toys and baby socks. I think this is because babies are inherently messy and disorganized.)

Anyway, I almost took it. And then I reconsidered, thinking about lice, urine, etc.

Now, on a related note, please go here and scroll down to "Vintage Boys Winter Hat."

I enjoy the copy: "Remember this style hat? I think most boys had a hat similar while growing up!"

Uh, how old is this copywriter? 236?

500 Crabapples for Not Putting Caffeine to Good Use

At Best Friend Espresso in Kenmore, baristas go thigh-high. An elevated service window offers customers a nearly full-length view of pretty, young baristas — some of them high-school students — in short skirts, tank tops and high heels.

Best Friend owner Wayne Hembree said he requires employees to dress "classy;" in dresses, skirts and a nice top.

"What I think most of them have found is that their tips are better if they wear short skirts," he said.

Interested in gacking up your breakfast even more? Go read the whole damn thing.

I could rant. I could throw creamer. I could tape (staple?) dead wallabies [see below] all over my head and tap-dance on in there and kick Wayne Hembree in the shins.

Or I could laugh hysterically at the fact that all of these proprieters cited in the article actually think they are being innovative. To wit:

"In this area, we all know how to make good coffee," said Barbara Record, who opened Bikini Espresso in Renton last month. The trick is to set your business apart, she said, and sex is one sure-fire way to do that.

Yea, TOTALLY, Barb. Like, ohmygod, yea. Sex to sell? You are absolutely revolutionary! You will be rich! You will take over the world with glitter and poise!

Not feeling illuminated enough yet? Not to worry.
The baristas themselves are equally brimming with novel nuggets:

"Your customers freakin' adore you. Everybody's excited to see you," Law said. "You spend a few minutes with them and they leave."

Yes, yes, I understand the pattern.

68 Crabapples for Peykeys

According to NPR, today is statistically the most depressing day of the year.

It's true. The formula is this: [W + (D-d)] x TQ M x NA where W = weather, D = debt, d = money due in January pay, T = time elapsed since Christmas, Q = time since failed New Year's resolutions to quit smoking, drinking etc, M = general motivational levels, NA = the need to take action.

I couldn't make that shit up. See here-- not a liar.

And I picked today to return from vacation? I may not be a liar, but I'm definitely stupid as charcoal.

Well, here is something to mull over in light of today's inherent tragic capacity:

Peyton Manning has mated with a donkey. And it is a proven fact that donkeys always choke. This is because most donkeys have very ugly faces and too many endorsement deals and only one testicle. Therefore, this hideous hybrid cannot pee alone and needs its mom to help it. It also stabs puppies and throws baby chicks out car windows.


Still, I wish Manning the best of luck in the Superbowl.
Also: go Bears.

559 Pineapples for a Whole List of Good

Girl Behind Me in Line at the Supermarket Late This Afternoon: "This place is packed. So totally annoying. [pause] Yea, I think it's the Superbowl or something..."

This girl was promptly pummeled with 99-cent navel oranges, lit on fire, and shot; I helped.

Anyway, I'm back from California. Pictures forthcoming.
One sentence recap: I walked on the Golden Gate Bridge, saw monstrous trees at Muir Woods, saw amazing San Fran city views from Twin Peaks, ate good sushi in North Beach, drove the curvy part of Lombard St in our (rented) Mini Cooper, did 7 wine tastings, including Cakebread, Clos Pegase, and Peju, drank a 1999 Sterling Three Palms Merlot that my tastebuds really had no business tasting, inhaled shrimp fajitas in Calistoga, ran around the ridiculously beautiful estates of Sonoma and pretended that one day I would be relaxing on a similar wrap-around porch, had breakfast at a diner in St.Helena, enjoyed a reserve tasting and luncheon at Sebastiani, slept in a huge comfy king sleigh bed next to a fireplace and private garden, met 500,000 of Jason's (welcoming and wonderful) friends, and enjoyed fantastic roast chicken, pancetta-chili butternut squash, and a bottle of champagne at A16.

Also, I flew in 4 airplanes and did not totally piss myself, except for one 5 minute stretch on Plane #2 when turbulence got a little too turbulent for my wussy tolerance.

So yea, it was pretty good.

Now, I'm back, watching the game and baking a cake simply because I want a piece.
I'm, like, cheery; it's all very odd.

Going to work tomorrow will likely be highly uncool.
Also, let's go ahead and not discuss my bank statement.

99 Pineapples for CA

Because I like restaurants, wine, beautiful views, and learning (because obviously this is mainly about learning), I'm heading off to California tomorrow for a good whole week.

During this time, I will be on vacation. I haven't taken a blogging vaca since last March. In an attempt to not go into deep withdrawal, my Official Blog Photographer and I will be taking breathtaking pictures to post when we return.

In particular, I promised SDT that I would take a picture of myself buying something really awesome. For a dollar. Because I owe her a dollar. And in lieu of giving her back the dollar as "people" do, we have agreed that I will take a photo of me spending that dollar in the most amazing, insightful, and elegant way possible.

I don't think I can get away with "me + gum at the Sonoma 7-11."
Suggestions welcome.

15 Pineapples. And Congrats and Best Wishes to Paul

Thoughts for Wednesday:

1. iPhone. iPhone iPhone iPhone. Danny sums it up well over at BMA. And Paul wants to marry it. I could talk about it forever, but it's all been said. When I have enough disposable income to purchase one, then that will warrant a full post.
:: Of course I'll give it pineapples. Some, I guess. 15? Yea.

2. Know what is not good by itself? Tonic water.
::78 Crabapples.

3. Speaking of marrying things, I want to marry Entourage. Over and over and over again. Why did I not discover this show long, long ago? It's addictive in the most wonderful way; it makes the leaves greener and the grass shinier, even though it is winter and none of the leaves are green and grass is not really shiny anyway, unless you look at it in direct summer sunlight, which is oftentimes not possible in January.
::4,899 Pineapples. Beautiful, glorious pineapples.

4. I'm watching a commercial for NuvaRing right now; I'm not sold.
::5 Mulligans.

5. Oh, and Pop-Tarts are teaming up with Trivial Pursuit.
::Because that has to do with anything.

22 Crabapples for Blue Heads

Speaking of Tigger beating up kids, I have been wanting to add some new full-of-flair photos to CF. This is in my best interest, as I would like people to stop thinking that I am some first-year-art-student-slash-confused-pansy.
You know... hey Jaynie, what's up with the blue?

[Answer: I felt locked into the blue thing since I took that first shot with my iSight and then played around with colors in Photoshop and didn't save the original one where I am captured in actual human colors.]

So, this past weekend my OBF (Official Blog Faux-tographer) was going to take headshots. Um, this is about as far as we got.

I'll keep working on it.

48 Crabapples for Pants

Things to not do on a weekday morning:

1. Try on old pants from the back of your closet "just to see if they fit."

They won't.

And when they won't, you will begin throwing heavy and/or clangy objects, like books and colanders and bricks. This will ensue until you begin killing people. Then you will begin loading a water gun with rubbing alcohol so you can squirt squirrels in the eyes on your way to work.

And then you will feel bad about yourself that you have become a manic crackhead over pants.

And then you will cry.

See, friends, so not worth it.

3 Mulligans and No County Lines

I'm pretty sure I saw Charlie Sheen driving a silver Mercedes down my street early this morning. This is very true.

But, in other news, I happily just submitted my request to get a replacement battery for my recalled Apple battery. The process was simple and even a little fun (not really fun, but not at all painful or annoying, so fun in it's lack of roadblocks). One weird thing: they asked me for my county. We, the people of Massachusetts, do not "do" counties. In Maryland, where I went to college, they do counties, but not here, no-ho-hoo-boy, not here.

When I filled it out, I got my county wrong. I guessed Suffolk; it was Middlesex. The fact that their software corrected me makes me wonder why they asked me in the first place.

Also, while in Maryland not knowing my county would immediately deem me a lousy idiot, here in these parts it just makes me slightly stupid.

As such, I don't feel the least bit bad about myself.

20 Pineapples for Ridin', Ridin', Bunny Ridin'

Being the marketing type and all, I'm constantly on the look-out for emerging trends. While '06 was an exciting year filled with UGC, viral vids, GooTube, and the rise of the blogosphere, '07 is primed and ready to be even BIGGER!

Why? Well, not only because I believe that Julie Roehm will rise again and Low-Sugar Frosted Flakes are finally being considered a fricking stupid-as-fried-oats idea, but because I forecast that this will be the year of the Commuter Bunny.



Yes, m'am.
The Commuter Bunny Troop/Troupe will be:
1. huge bunnies
2. extra fluffy
3. wearing saddles
4. that will take you to work
5. and graze outside happily during the day until
6. you are ready to go home
7. then your appointed CB will take you home
8. you then feed the bunny some pellets
9. and he sleeps until morning

CBs can wear branded headbands (see VW example above), and there are revenue-sharing options available with CommieBunnie, LLC. This way, you can rake in some ad revenue while you ride to work. Franchising opportunities available.

55 Pineapples for NYE, Laid-Back Edition

By asking you to vote for me in the last post, I kinda-sorta-totally missed the point of the z-list meme. I knew that, I think. So here I am, reinstituting my transparency and telling you that I missed the point. But now I am back on the z-train, fully cognitive. This time around, I am wearing an awesome cape. And toe shoes.

And, speaking of awesome, check this out! I'm inspired by Sandy and may have my own z-list spin-off up my (very wide, part-of-my-cape) sleeve. Gimme a few days.

My New Year's was quiet and nice. Jason and I went to Gargoyle's for drinks and to eavesdrop on the couple seated next to us at the bar whom we were convinced were on their first date until we heard them discussing their wedding in 5 months. Whatever, she had a lacy slutty dress and a huge pink martini made of sissy.

[As a sidenote, Gargoyle's has vanilla, apple, and cinnamon infused Maker's for the holiday season. yep.]

And then we made dinner here (notice me motioning toward my kitchen), as not to pay $200 a head for a 9:00 prix fixe seating anywhere in the city. Also, the portions at Casa Jaynie are way bigger. And you can take your shoes off. And throw shit at the walls if you want (we didn't). We drank champagne from Australia.

And then I turned into a kangaroo.
And Jason, a panda.
I mean koala.

My eucalyptus body wash is missing, so yes, koala.

Wait, shit, which ones eat the eucalyptus?