Critical Fluff

188 Crabapples for 2440 Mass Ave.

2007-07-03T13:25:00.000-04:00

I admit it: Critical Fluff, Version Blogger, I sort of miss you a little. It's true. So maybe I will post here now and again and also keep up my Tumblr, which I am keeping pretty much low profile, for no other reason than it is unequivocally uninteresting to anyone but myself. It's pretty much a personal delicious feed with tiny-tiny-blog legs.

Anyway. I will be back here now sometimes. Hi.

So, last Sunday Jason and I went to check out the brand new Cambridge Point Condos. The units were gorgeous, and we unwittingly spent over 2 hours wandering around every single unit. multiple times.

Our condo tour ended with a incredible mutual suicide, very much like Romeo & Juliet, except in this case we drank 18 liters of Liquid Nails, carved "I'll never-ever-ever have enough for a down payment" into our forearms with a rusty jacknife, and threw ourselves down (beautiful) spiral staircases (next to lovely fireplaces) with acute cases of condo envy.

But tomorrow is the 4th of July. And there will be grilling and golf.

68 Crabapples for Sucky Walkers

2007-05-01T21:12:00.000-04:00

I have a horrible anger-management problem when it comes to a very particular set of people:

Slow walkers.

No, actually: slow walkers doing extraneous tasks while not moving out of the way of the clear-and-present stream of traffic.

Need some examples? Well, sure. Here:

- The girl rummaging through her purse on the left ("it's here that we walk") side of the escalator, seemingly in search of the Magic Pearl of Gibraltar.

- The couple with their hands around each other's waists, barely moving forward at all, blocking an entire narrow hallway.

And this much is just true: people that walk wicked super slow... make a habit of walking wicked super slow.
Because I KNOW that they just KNOW how much it hurts my soul.

Anyway, I was stuck behind a SWDEC ("slow walker doing extra crap"-- pronounced "swid-eck") going up the stairs at the Davis T-stop tonight, and I decided I should document my inner dialogue in the hopes of overcoming this mind-debilitating annoyance.

It starts mildly:

"Hmm, I wish you would walk."

Then:

"Uh, M'am, can you walk?"
"Walking."
"Ihateyou."

And then I start pawing anxiously at my ponytail:

"Um, yea, I actually really need you to walk."
"Hate."
...
...
...
"Hate."
...
"My mother hates you."
"Your mother hates you."
...
"Hate."
"hate-hate-hate-hate-hate-seething-monkey-asshole-hate."

Yea, it always ends badly.

46 Pineapples for a Steak-Filled Pony-Castle

2007-04-29T19:48:00.000-04:00

A few things:

1. Tom, I really will meme up your meme. I don't watch Lost, so I just need to figure out some fuzzy logic by which I get to be Sloan from Entourage. Then my casting can commence.

2. Sarah, Paul, E, Max K, Stacey, Kate, Stace, Jess... Love your Wiffitis! Who did I forget?

3. Last night, Jason and I headed over to 28Degrees (pre-pre-dinner), Icarus (pre-dinner) and Masa (dinner).
[Disclaimer: We had Phantom Gourmet gift cards. And we were very thirsty.]

As we walked by the Smith & Wollensky castle on our way down Arlington St, Jason wondered out loud what the castle used to be. Well, here: "the medieval structure was constructed in 1891 and originally served as the headquarters for the First Corps of Cadets."

Yo. That's not nearly as interesting as I had hoped. I was hoping for something a little more "the old residence of an evil sorcerer who turned ponies into glittering bags of money, and who ultimately got shot by a wild donkey breeder because he thought the sorcerer stole his pants, when in fact the pants-thief was actually an angry escaped pony."

Whatev. Still a pretty amazing building.

And also, Masa: I adore you.

195 Crabapples for Sexy Diapers?

2007-04-25T21:08:00.000-04:00

I remember the first time I saw broccoflower.

I was all "whaaaaaaaaat? a broccoli hybrid? sup yo, get me some'a that!"

And, for the record, it tastes mostly like cauli, and is honestly nothing to write home about, but the initial shock of it was really a thing to remember.

I felt a similar feeling today, as I found out about this: "the original online community for Adult Babies and Diaper Lovers."

Humina humina diaper?

Who likes diapers?

Moreover, who likes to photograph him/herself in diapers?

Not me.

I mean, how uncomfortable are pants? (very)
Now multiply that by infinite layers of absorbent cotton bunting, a plasticoat liner, and adhesive snuggifiers.

Makes me really sad.

955 Pineapples for Wiffiti Beta

2007-04-23T14:29:00.000-04:00

How good does that look as a header?
So good.

You could even use it in place of a header (which I may do soon).

I know I'm biased, but seriously though, how awesome does that look? Do it-- press the pink arrow. Then txt me. Then cheer!

So, to all my blog friends sitting on their beta invites, go embed your screens! Change your backgrounds! Do the right thing!
Kate did. and Sarah did. and Stace did.

Now you go.
Go on. go.

Need help? Leave a comment. I'll help you and you'll have it up in under 3 minutes, looking all fly.

Want a screen and I didn't send you an invite? Also-- comment. or txt the screen. I may even feel nice and send you a t-shirt.

I'm Back. I Missed Pineapples.

2007-04-19T22:49:00.000-04:00

ok. i'm back. i couldn't stay away.
You know, like that song.
I'm still planning on making my dramatic move to Wordpress, but I don't have the patience right now. So... soon.

A few things I've been wanting to say:

1. What's up with the movement toward alternative grains? I was at a diner this weekend and had the unfortunate experience of sitting next to a woman who would not shut the fuck up about quinoa. KEEEENNNNNWAAAAA. DO YOU HAVE KEEEEENWA? JUST A LIL' BIT O' KEEEEEEEEEEENWA?
If it weren't for the stop-traffic-deliciousness of the sweet potato pancake sitting in front of me, I may have hurt her.
DO YOU THINK YOUR ALTERNATIVE GRAIN IS BETTER THAN MY TOAST?
I didn't think so.

2. Why is every shirt in every store right now a maternity shirt? It's like the whole babydoll dress trend of '97... but even more horrible.
I also hate ballet flats.

3. The other day, I was at the store buying an Amy's frozen sandwich thingy. Spinach and feta or something.
I was at the checkout and the guy was like, "is this your lunch?"
Skeptical and unamused, I humored him: "uh, yea."
He replies,"Sometimes my wife does that. She just heats something like that up and eats it. And that's that."

...

...

Uh...yea?

Um.

Umm.

Okay.

Wat do you say to that??: "Uhhh, she's so weird... heating up a frozen entree like that... in the microwave!? Ca-RaaaAzy!"

I went with "Oh."

A Mulligan for a Hiatus (which I already started)

2007-04-02T17:40:00.000-04:00

Yea, you've noticed the lack of posts.

Critical Fluff isn't gone forever, but it's laying low for a bit.

No reason really, just been busy over at BMA and Wiffiti.

I imagine I'll be back pretty soon, but likely on WordPress. Blogger and I just aren't seeing eye to eye anymore.

In the meantime, enjoy the rain, some Creme Eggs, and hopefully some new socks.
New socks just feel so good.

100 Pineapples for Pretty Singing

2007-03-20T19:59:00.000-04:00

So, I know it's March.
And that New Year's happened a significant chunk of time ago.
But this guy is just too great.

He sings!
He sits on the couch!
And there is wavering evidence midway through the video that his dog might just be alive!
(though you shouldn't count on it...)

50 Pineapples for Masa Tapas

2007-03-11T16:25:00.000-04:00

Last night, Jason and I went to Masa, hoping to make the South End less of a Black Hole for us; we also wanted tapas.

And tapas we got.
Chorizo with cranberry chutney, crispy plaintains with shrimp, some duck & scallop thing with onion things, black bean cakes with carnitas, mexican hummus on cukes...

yum. yum. yum. yum and yum.

17 Crabapples for Chewy Light Rum

2007-03-08T18:44:00.000-05:00

So Orbit Gum decided to make an "EXOTIC NEW FLAVOR!": Mojito Mint.
Oh, this is clearly not a good idea.
But this also means that I am necessitated by the Mandate for Assy New Flavor Trying (1986) to buy it.

So buy it I did.
It was not good.
Upon first chew, I was all, "hmm. this is not too bad."
Then I promptly spit it out and looked around quizzically and angrily for where I put down my mojito.

This course of events is discomfiting at 9:15am. And considering that I typically chew gum immediately after morning coffee, this flavor just ain't gonna do.

Now... Manhattan gum... that might not be terrible.

More Crabapples Than You Can, As They Say, Shake a Stick At!

2007-03-05T19:51:00.000-05:00

In a valiant attempt to expand my etymological knowledge, amuse myself quietly, and confuse/make fun of others more often, I have decided to start incorporating antiquated cliches and douchey sayings into my everyday speech as much as possible. No preference will be given for use cases in which the saying actually makes sense or hints at logic.
It's a great way to feel like a tool AND actually BE a tool.

I will aim to punctuate these tired sayings with a long, drawn-out "as they say," followed by a jubilant exclamation of the cliche at hand... as if, as they say, I'm in seventh heaven(!!!).

Let's take a look at some examples:

Scenario A:
At a convenience store, buying milk and cereal.
Clerk: That'll be $5.88. Do you need a bag?
Me: A bag!?! As they say, now that's the ticket!

Scenario B:
Babysitting in a park.
Small Impressionable Child: Jaynie, when can I go on the swingset?
Me: Well, Child, as they say, every dog has his day!
Small Impressionable Child: But I don't have a dog. I WANT A PUPPY!
Me: Oh, Child, no yelling, we're in a park... you really need to, as they saaaaay, mind your P's and Q's!
Small Impressionable Child: [pees.]

Scenario C:
At an Barack Obama press conference, upon being called upon to pose the capstone question of the afternoon.
Press Rep: Yes, you there [pointing at me].
Me: [I stop waving my hand frantically.] Mr.Obama, it seems that you have quite a... as they say... bee in your bonnet(!) about voting rights for disabled and minority voters. Why exactly are you, as they say, such a busy bee(!) about this issue?

Further examples welcome.
I'll let you know how it goes as I begin to put this ordinance into action... how many times I get punched, etc.

31 Pineapples for an Extra Big Sample Size

2007-03-04T20:54:00.000-05:00

I had two dreams last night:

1. I was at Canobie Lake Park (a small amusement park in NH), playing arcade games. The game, which was designed to dispense quarters for winning, started rapidly spitting out 10 dollar bills. I stuffed my jeans full.

2. I was in J.P. Licks with Anne and Jason. I asked for a sample of soft-serve "Sweet Cream & Oreo" (which I don't think actually exists, but would certainly be delicious). Instead of giving me a tiny-tiny-cup sample per usual, the ice cream worker girl gave me a huge bowl. The three of us ate it and agreed that it was excellent. And then I decided that since I has already had a "sample" of that, I would place my real order. Peanut butter ice cream with rainbow sprinkles. It was big. Then Jason and Anne ordered equally huge sundaes, and I offered to pay (obviously... I had pockets full of tens). The total? $5.47. (Yes. $5.47.) Sweet deal.

I think Freud would conclude that I am clearly six years old, ice cream obsessed, and in the midst of a financial panic.

And yes, Freud would be all too correct.

10 Crabapples for Early Birds and/or Earlybirds

2007-03-01T21:15:00.000-05:00

I have been seeing a shitload of robins lately.
This is bothering me far more than it should.
I always firmly believed that "first sign of Spring" thing. Most totally.
And suddenly they are everywhere, hopping on cruddy snowbanks, all hoppity-skittery across ice slicks.
My worldview feels threatened.

Tomorrow I am making pork.
Who makes pork?

Back to the stupid things written on packaging schtick--
I have a carton of supermarket brand eggwhites labeled "The Amazing Egg Whites."
Uh, they don't do shit.

I'm hating on the new blogger. Once I get motivated, I'm moving this guy over to WordPress. Blogger's all clunky and know-it-all. And I refuse to let it sign me in with my google account. Blogger-Not-Beta-Anymore, you don't own me.

Earlybirds is a strange word if you say it more than twice in a row.

933 Pineapples for Countering the Whine with Wine

2007-02-22T20:39:00.000-05:00

Some grape-based pineapples:

1. Since I am not allowed (by law) to get on a plane without drinking at least 3 glasses of wine (and a shot of whiskey...and a "calm the fuck down, you bitch" pill), I very much appreciate Vino Volo. That's right, wine tasting in airports. Brilliant!

2. I live in MA. We can't have wine delivered here. This makes me angry; it makes me even angrier because last weekend we drank a so-very-wonderful bottle of Peju Provence (brought back from Sonoma), which is conveniently not available in stores. Simply, I want more.
So, you should all go here and support wine shipment to MA.

3. Also, you should all go here and sign up for the Wine & Healthy Living newsletter. It's truly feel-good.

4. In conclusion, I'd like to report that a few weekends ago, I returned my first bottle of off wine to the store. It was supposed to be a Wine Spectator 90+ Gewurtztraminer, and the finish was like ass. This fact didn't prevent me from feeling like a total tool bringing it back. Thankfully, the clerk tasted it, agreed, and gave me a new bottle.
In any case, still felt like a douchecan.

183 Pineapples for a 15-20 Minute Rinse

2007-02-21T19:59:00.000-05:00

The Elaine-dancing episode of Seinfeld is on right now. But that's not the point of today.

The point is two-fold:

Uno:
The back of my bottle of Fantastik reads as follows:

FIRST AID: If in eyes: Hold eye open and rinse slowly and gently with water for 15-20 minutes. Remove contact lenses, if present, after 5 minutes, then continue rinsing eye.

I don't understand. Why do I need to keep my contacts in for five minutes before removing them from the poison? This just seems ridiculous from all angles.

Dos:
Frosted Mini Wheats Big Bites (topic via Jason's breakfast).
Let's break this down:
Mini AND Big.
I'm no trophy linguist, but this sounds fishy.
So, I consulted Wikipedia. I find this thoughtful analysis:

A short-lived experiment, Frosted Mini-Wheats Big Bite, was essentially the original cereal cut into rectangles (twice the size of the original pieces) rather than squares. The larger size holds milk differently from the smaller squares, creating a different taste quality; however, as the biscuit is larger than a normal spoon, it is difficult to eat without breaking up. This may limit this version's long-term marketability.

Thank you, good Wiki, for affirming that this product is oxymoronically lame.

Tres (Bonus): Because I am now on a kick of reading the fine print of crap in my cabinets and getting a kick out of it, I'd like to report that my non-stick cooking spray kindly reminds me not to store it in the refridgerator.
So I will not.

Now, everyone go grab a bag or a box of something and report back something stupid.
Go on, do it... it'll amuse us all.
Or just me.

14 Crabapples for Whine

2007-02-20T19:43:00.000-05:00

Today was uncomfortable for me.
This is because it was that horrid, horrid day known as "first day wearing new jeans day." You know... when they're still all stiff and crispy and bad, and you feel like you're wearing croutons with leg holes.

Also, I ran out of lotion last Thursday and kept forgetting to pick some up, so my skin has been slowly alligatoring for days. So then when I finally grabbed some Vaseline Intensive Care on my lunch break today and applied it to my angry calves, they bucked and screamed and cried like angry, angry, dry and flaky ponies. It took every ounce of will in my body not to whip out a hairbrush at work and just rake the fuck away at my tree-bark skin. Over and over and over again, right on down to my innards.

But now, now... all is resolved... the derm is beginning to hydrate, I am drinking hot chocolate with whipped cream, and Scrubs is on.

And, to boot, I found this picture of a baby donkey and a baby dog.

45 Pineapples for Clive.

2007-02-18T20:59:00.000-05:00

I just slammed my finger in my bureau drawer, bending my fingernail backwards.
Hurts.
I blame all of you.

But hey, you likely have tomorrow off from work, yes?

This is what you should do: see Children of Men.
All I will say is that it's "sci-fi" categorization is clearly a misnomer, as it's plausibility is irrefutable: layered, nuanced, and menacing.
And for that, it's both brilliant and to-yo'-bones unnerving.

Since I saw it today, I will not be watching it tomorrow. Instead, I will be shopping for casual, non-running sneakers that I can wear walking around and not break my face on ice and snow. Maybe like these? Or these?

304 Crabapples for Brit's (a W)hack Job

2007-02-17T16:40:00.000-05:00

Oh Brit.
Dear, dear Brit.
I would much prefer not to go all Nancy Kerrigan on your once-so-perky ass, but Why? WHHHHHY?

Jaynie, what the fuck are you talking about?
This. This right here.

Yea, see, umm, call me shallow or "ignoring the issue at hand" or whatever... but I find that look severely unflattering for your face shape.

79 Pineapples for "Huh? What? Fatal??"

2007-02-12T19:55:00.000-05:00

This sign hangs about 400 yds from the start/end of the Golden Gate Bridge. Upon noticing this placard, I pushed Jason to the ground violently, grabbed the camera, and took this picture while laughing like a maniac and pointing at his skinned knees and bruised forehead.

That is not true.

It was more like, "Jason, please take a picture of this because it is hilarious."
And he said okay.

30 Mulligans for Semi Sandra

2007-02-12T19:30:00.000-05:00

I watch a lot of the Food Network, mostly because it is awesome, I am typically hungry, and watching good food is the best thing there is after eating good food, touching good food and then licking your finger, or having someone else touch good food and then licking his/her finger (only with friends). Although my heart belongs to Iron Chef (yes, even IC America), I also dig Paula Deen and The Barefoot Contessa. That said, I would be fine if Mario choked on his clogs and died a gruesome shoe-leather-and-wood-filled death in front of me and a group of impressionable young children. I also hate Emeril, even since he tried to associate BAM! with Crest toothpaste.

One gal I'm always waffling about is Sandra Lee of Semi-Homemade. Is she cute and spunky? Or plastic and conniving? Or cute and conniving? Or spunky and plastic? I really just don't know.

However, I found a Food Network Expert who is very, very certain about his feelings toward Sandie:

Pure evil. This frightening Hell Spawn of Kathie Lee and Betty Crocker seems on a mission to kill her fans, one meal at a time... Her death-dealing can-opening ways will cut a swath of destruction through the world if not contained. I would likely be arrested if I suggested on television that any children watching should promptly go to a wooded area with a gun and harm themselves. What’s the difference between that and Sandra suggesting we fill our mouths with Ritz Crackers, jam a can of Cheez Wiz in after and press hard? None that I can see... Its only possible use might be as a psychological warfare strategy against the resurgent Taliban--or dangerous insurgent groups. A large-racked blonde repeatedly urging Afghans and angry Iraqis to stuff themseles with fatty, processed American foods might be just the weapon we need to win the war on terror.

Hmm. I've already mentioned children and murder in close conjunction twice in this post.
Ah well.

12 Crabapples for Terrible Self-Scanners

2007-02-11T17:32:00.000-05:00

There really needs to be a sign posted directly in front of grocery store self check-outs:

If You Are a Fucking Moron, Please Move to a Traditional Check-Out.

People surely wouldn't obey it, but maybe it could prevent 1 case out of 100.
It would at least be a start.

It's not that I'm intolerant, it's that I am an efficient self checker-outter. And those of us well-versed in the language of bar code scanning and key-in-your-produce-code-and-press-next should be rewarded with an "Expert Express Line" of our own. You would need to earn it, with a test of speed and accuracy judged by a grocery store employee. And then you would get a badge. Like a girl scout badge, but with a bag of groceries on it. and an RFID code. Yes, yes, this will happen.

Oh, Pedigree. Maybe a Pineapple Out of Guilt?

2007-02-06T19:26:00.000-05:00

Because I haven't done the list thing in a while:

1. I know we've been spoiled by a mild winter, but the cold that's going on this week is not my favorite. I have been tempted to wear a wool hat at work. Or bring a blanket. And bernese mountain dogs in a wagon! HI!
::11 Crabapples, not factoring in windchill.

2. For reasons I can not explain to anyone but the most elite, I just put a jellybean in my drink. The drink makes the jellybean hard, yet tastier.
This is high-level food science.
::23 Pineapples for not being Alton Brown.

3. For lack of a better idea, I just went to Google News and searched for "weird." I found this.
I think the battery promo was an ill-conceived idea in which the sake would be seen as "energizing." Weak. Can someone who can read Japanese tell me the sake brand name? Masumi? I need context clues.
::A mulligan until I get translation help.

4. Rachael Ray is trying to tell me that Oregon has a lot of cranberry bogs. I don't know whether or not to believe her. I tend to distrust persistent perkiness.
::90 Crabapples. And I might need you to shut up.

5. I was just disrupted by a call from Emerson asking for money. Sorry, yo, I have none.
::I can't tell you how many Crabapples.

6. The Pedigree ad with the shelter dogs make me tear up. Every/single/time. You are good dogs! All of you! Even the little fuzzy shitdogs! I would take you home and love you if I could!
::Sniff.

65 Pineapples for Franklin Cafe

2007-02-04T14:27:00.000-05:00

Go Bears.

Also:

Last night, Jason and I ate at Franklin Cafe in the South End. The South End is kind of a Boston Black Hole for me, since it's not T-accessible and I seem to get very, very lost trying to follow Tremont St. for more than a few hundred yards at a time. And since Franklin Cafe doesn't take reservations, only has 6 or so tables, and is known for it's 2-hour weekend wait, it's kind of an event to go there.

BUT: So very worth it. The wine and cocktail menu is wonderful, the bartenders are (super busy) and very efficient, the space is crowded but low-key, and the food is excellent (and, honestly, a really good value for the quality). AND we finally tried Conundrum, which has been on my Things That Are Probably Awesome List for a while. And it was.

I very much enjoy the South End. I just need to submit a plea to City Hall to move it closer to the Red Line. Preferably by summer.

And to conclude circularly, Go Bears.

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

2007-01-29T21:09:00.000-05:00

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

2007-01-28T19:19:00.000-05:00

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

2007-01-27T09:56:00.000-05:00

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

Look at her pretty eyes!

2 Mulligans for 2 Degrees

2007-01-26T08:31:00.000-05:00

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

2007-01-25T18:17:00.000-05:00

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

2007-01-24T19:56:00.000-05:00

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

2007-01-22T20:16:00.000-05:00

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

2007-01-21T20:23:00.000-05:00

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

2007-01-13T14:31:00.000-05:00

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

2007-01-10T22:29:00.000-05:00

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

2007-01-08T19:55:00.000-05:00

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

2007-01-05T08:46:00.000-05:00

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

2007-01-04T22:20:00.000-05:00

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'

2007-01-02T21:16:00.000-05:00

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

2007-01-01T00:08:00.000-05:00

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?

500 Pineapples for The One-Armed Z-List

2006-12-26T09:32:00.000-05:00

With soaring hopes of turning Critical Fluff into a narrative menagerie of fat dogs stuck in garden accoutrements, dead miniature frogs, and gimpy rodents, I have pictures for you.

This is the one-armed squirrel. I had the privilege of meeting him in-the-flesh on Christmas morning when I went home to visit my parents. A treat, I tell ya.

And this is him eating the altruistically-deshelled nuts.

And this is him chewing his nuts carefully so he does not choke (as we all should do).
Please pay extra attention to the hanging arm. It is limper than a wet old sock named Floppy.

Now, in return for seeing an indisposed squirrel, go join Squidoo and up my ranking. The one-armed squirrel says thanks, yo.
He also says, "F you, Jaynie K, for using my disability to garner votes."

Whatever, Onesie, whatever.

In Memoriam: 300 Pineapples

2006-12-21T09:19:00.000-05:00

I am sad to report that Bread's Second Coming was followed forthwith by his Second Death.

I went home at lunch yesterday to find him sprawled on the aquarium pebbles, covered in a white peat moss type substance.

I reasoned that either he went out and purchased a cute little frog sweater or he was shrouded in death fluff.

It was the dead thing.

Clarissa laid on top of him, as if to assuage his pain. Well, that or she's a necro.

So, last night, at 11:58pm EST my dear little Bread became one with the City of Somerville septic system. He marched to his death like a soldier, on a black plastic kitchen spoon (or, rather, I marched him to his death like a soldier, but whatever). He floated languidly and then descended. It was cyclic and beautiful.

(I later decided to discard said spoon, reasoning that a new $3 spoon would be a better choice than remembering his tiny limp legs every time I stirred rice.)

But, because nothing is ever settled in FrogWorld-Davis Square Branch, this morning presented an entirely new development.

The pink plastic aquarium plant had unlodged itself from the floor-pebbles and was floating at the top of the tank. Both Frankie and Clarissa were stuck in it.

I pushed it around with a chopstick, and then tried to replant the thing at the bottom, but couldn't get it to stay for any amount of struggle. (Jason, how did you get those things in originally??)

Frank and Claris are moving around again now, but are obviously upset and shaken. Poor things; first, one-third of your social circle dies, then a piece of pink sea-flora 8 times your body size releases itself from the ground, floating to the sky... with you entangled in it.
No, that is not a good day.

I need to find those guys something really nice for Christmas.

[flickr thanks to bcmom.]

190 Pineapples for Bread

2006-12-18T20:34:00.000-05:00

For Christmas, I asked for frogs. Specifically, Mini African frogs.

Well, Christams being awesome and all, I got them, the frogs. Early. Early, as it is not Christmas yet. Early as a result of the warm temps yesterday.
Easier for transport of amphibians. So they say.

So yea, I am totally in love with them.

Pictures to come, but first I will introduce you to them textually.

Littlest Frog: Name is Frankie. Has semi-transparent skin and a reddish leg. Likes to float at the top of the tank and chill. If he were a person, he would be a 145-pound guy wearing a two-tone yellow ringer tee and a striped wool hat.

Middle Frog: Clarissa, named after Mrs.Dalloway fame. Active, but not spastic. Likes flowers and lace. Likes to lay on top of the other frogs. In other words, the resident slut.

Big Guy: Named Bread. Kinda like Madonna. Or Meatloaf. Or Sade.
A lumbering fellow. Like a tall tale guy, Paul Bunyan or John Henry or whatever.
Poor Bread (see below).

SO. Story.

Yesterday I brought the crew home and went about transferring them from carrying tote plastic thing to aquarium.

Fine so far.
Then, 30 minutes pass. And Bread is not moving.
Then an hour.
Then three.
Still, Bread lay still, wedged in the corner of the tank, unswayed by any amount of glass-tapping and freezedried-bloodworm-feeding.

I call Jason: "Bread has passed on."

We mourn. It is sad.

We discuss getting another frog to replace Bread, though would that be too soon? Too heartless?

Oh Bread, dearest, we heardly knew ye.

I didn't want to deal with the deathness of it all til morning.
I slept restlessly, thinking of how I would scoop him out of the corner with a dessert spoon in the morning. And flush him. And it would be horrid.

I got up this morning. Poured myself a glass of water. Turned to say hello to the froggies.

BREAD! He was gone.

No, he was there, on the other side of the tank.
Moving sluggishly, but totally totally alive.

A true Christmas miracle!
GO BREAD GO!

Bread is like Jesus '06.
His new nickname is totally Manna.

18 Pineapples for Dinosaurs Who Like Peanut Butter

2006-12-14T13:17:00.000-05:00

BamCast Episode 2 is up over at BMA.

If you feel any emotion whatsoever toward IKEA (even apathy), you should listen.

Also, Jason, shocked that you memed it up.
Also, I highly respect your cult TV choices; Rayanne's a keeper.

15 Pineapples and for the 5 Meme

2006-12-12T20:07:00.000-05:00

I've been meme-bopped by Paul (btw, hope that your doctor's appt went well today and you're on your way to sitcom super-stardom).

Looks like the whole marketing branch of this crazy blogosphere is getting tagged, so I'll agreeably play along. Even more, I intend to enjoy it.

The topic of the meme: 5 things you probably don't know about me. This is hard, because those of you who know me in real life, like, know me in real life. And, well, know these things. So I will mostly cater this internetically.

Okay, um, here:

1. I'm a towering 5'2", but wear a boat-like size 9 shoe. This makes me hard to tip over.

2. I'm positive that I would absolutely love Finnegan's Wake... if I could ever get all the way through it.

3. My drink of choice is whiskey on the rocks with a lime, preferably Maker's or Dalmore. Although I'm really enjoying the Jack Single Barrel I'm currently working on. (thanks EK!)

4. a.) I was the captain of my high school track and cross-country teams. In 10th grade, I elbowed a girl at the finish line, knocking her to the ground. I was DQ'ed and reprimanded.

b.) I ran cross-country and track in college. Upon fracturing my foot in four places and being banned from running, my coach caught me limp-jogging backwards on the track around midnight one night. I was reprimanded in a similar fashion to 4a.

5. I was a competitive figure skater until I was 16. I blame my (lack of) height on that.

6. [I'm on a roll... forget 5...] I am obsessed with dogs, and desperately want one of my own, preferably a yellow lab named Lila.

7. I may hold the World Record for # of Online First Dates.

8. I have a white cat puppet named FMK (Frosted Mini Kitty). She talks with a voicebox because she had a tracheotomy when she was six months old.

9. I wear multiple necklaces nearly every day. Most of them used to be my grandmother's. [Listen, retro is in.]

10. When I was 11 or 12, I was convinced that I was going to marry Jonathan Brandis (you know, the kid from Ladybugs). Now I'm pretty sure it'll be Topher Grace. The two of us may or may not have an affair with Scarlet Johansson.

10. My favorite dessert is soft serve ice cream in a cone with rainbow sprinkles. I also love jordan almonds.

11. I really like my job.

12. My favorite movie is Ghostworld. My favorite book is The Body Artist. I have a signed copy that would be one of the items that I grab first if I were ever in a fire.

13. I feel safer and happier when wrapped in a blanket. Even in the summer. I'm pretty much always freezing.

14. I'm an only child, and I'm very close with my parents and beagle. Not enough alone time causes me to kill people (in a nice way, of course).

15. (an offshoot of 14) I live alone.

Great. Now, who's gonna get tagged?
Ummm... how about Kate, Jason (dooo it), Tom, Steph, and Jenny.

Don't let me down.

29 Crabapples for Your Scoop

2006-12-11T20:47:00.000-05:00

See, I'm not in a *bad* mood right now. Not in the least.

Just more of a "whatever-whatever-whatever" feeling. Like, I just opened a new bottle of wine, started to pour, and realized I didn't really have the energy to taste it. So I stopped the pour so I wouldn't squander it.
(Sure, "squander" was a stupid word to use, but "waste" rhymed with taste and sounded embarrassingly deliberate.)

Stopped the pour? What the fuck is wrong with me?
Seriously.

But, listen, I am not too distracted to find out what flavor of ice cream I am.

You Are Chocolate Chip Ice Cream

You are kind, popular, and generous.
You tend to be successful at anything you try.
A social butterfly, you are great at entertaining a crowd.

You are most compatible with strawberry ice cream.

Fuck that. Chocolate chip is a stupid flavor.

Wow, I do care about things. All is not lost.

[On an unrelated (and less trivial) note, and I meant to mention it a few days ago: Congrats to Jon Lester!]

131 Welcome Pineapples to Jaynie Kincess

2006-12-10T15:05:00.000-05:00

This morning, I took my raging dorkdom to a brand new level.

I joined Second Life.

I know, I know, I know... I'm not even that kind of dork.
I'm not.

Listen, I don't even know how it happened. I was eating Cheerios, drinking coffee, reading my Sunday quota of blogs, and suddenly I had convinced myself that I wanted to be part of this world. Because Paul is. And CK. and Tim.

Pure blogospheric pressure.
Illustrious, contagious nerderization.

Also, I reasoned, it'll be good research for work.

And, to be perfectly honest, I sorta just wanted to make an awesome avatar with a cool new Linden-based last name. And sweet leather pants.

5 Mulligans. And I'm Sorry.

2006-12-08T09:19:00.000-05:00

Listen, my iBook up and died.
It will come back to life. I know it. An Apple Nerd will wave his/her magic wand and recite some cool chant and my baby will come back to me.
I will be handed a dandelion wreath and I will skip.

Until that marvelous time, everyone please send my iBook best wishes.
It also likes fruit baskets.

If you're looking for something to listen to, WiffitiCast 3 is up, and so is the first BAMCast. You can also watch this gem of gems.

Happy Friday!

13 Pineapples for Maybe-A-Dog

2006-12-06T21:15:00.000-05:00

My next door apartment neighbor has a boyfriend who has a dog. He brings it over a lot. This is not allowed. I am guessing, by its footfalls and overall clomping, that it is a black lab. OH!

No, no, no... I don't want to tell on her. I just want to pat it.
But is that overly super weird to go over and ask to pat it?

yes, right?

A Bushel of Pineapples If You Have Headphones At Work

2006-12-04T09:09:00.000-05:00

The first BAMCast is up at Beyond Madison Avenue.

Take a listen if you'd like. I talk about Ben and Jerry's and a creepy Elvis Teddy Bear and a snappy-dapper wine site.

Also, kate.d. was so right.
Casino Royale? Kick you in the shins in a good way good.

oh so very good.

80 Pineapples for a San Francisco Treat That Doesn't Involve a Creepy Hand-Puppet-Thing Pawning Rice

2006-11-30T22:23:00.000-05:00

Guess What?!

What what what what? UMMMMMMMMMMMMM.

Jason and I just booked tickets to go to San Francisco.
I have never been to California.
Or anywhere remotely near it, for that matter.

In January.
I have heard that it will be warmer than here.

Now, everyone give me travel advice and shit to do.

Maybe a Pineapple or Two, Maybe Not

2006-11-29T18:47:00.000-05:00

Tonight I'm heading to Martsa on Elm for dinner.

If I get back and feel all talky about it, I will tell you what I got and if it was good and so on.

If I get back and don't feel like it, I will ignore the subject altogether in my post tomorrow.

On an unrelated note, the goal is to get out my first podcast up over at BMA tomorrow, all clean and shiny and new. So yea, it'll be cool.

4 Pineapples for Turning All of My Posts into Prose Poems Because I'm Outta Juice

2006-11-28T18:56:00.000-05:00

I never wanted a pony when I was growing up.
I always wanted a metal detector.

When I was in Kindergarten (a German word meaning "child garden"), I stood at the bottom of the fireman-pole-thing on the jungle gym, wearing a plaid jumper, and got red-level-pissed that I couldn't slide down the pole in my white tights.

I can't wait until everything is wireless. If there's one thing I hate it's wires. If there's two things I hate, then the second is mushrooms. Especially floppy ones.

The weekend weatherman on NBC looks like a pale, shriveled potato.
I can't look directly at his head.

800 Crabapples for Paris and Brit in Leopard

2006-11-27T20:36:00.000-05:00

I'm so fucking bored of blogging right now that I could kick a bird.

A half-hearted pineapple to Michael Vick for his half-hearted apology.
Whatever, we're over it.

800 crabapples to Paris and Britney's newfound BFF status. Dude, Brit, that dress is just plain stupid.

My head hurts.

Um, okay, focus.

300 pineapples for my anticipation of Casino Royale. But 82 crabapples to psychoanal "fans" who nitpick like Canadian Geese over tiny mistakes. Shut up and enjoy the movie. I'm betting it is awesome.

HA! Look at that beagle jump with the stuffed bunny. HA!

Fuck.
I'm still totally blog bored.

16 Mulligans For Those of Us Rendered NFTB By Any Means

2006-11-26T17:56:00.000-05:00

I'd like to use my post today to expound upon a topic that I brought to light yesterday, slumped on my couch, feeling un-tastic.

Yes indeed: NFTB.

The concept of Not Fit To Blog could be quite useful in the judicial system, falling just about smack-dab-center in the spectrum of Normal Person to Criminally Insane.

In my opinion, a severe case of NFTB is far worse than NFTUOC(P).
Not Fit To Use One's Cell Phone.

But it is less severe than NFTGNBANDI.
Not Fit To Go Near Bleach And Not Drink It.

It hovers right around NFTBTNTGOAYRWASAS, but proves to be far more concrete and traceable.
[If you couldn't figure that one out, that would be:
Not Fit To Be Trusted Not To Go Outside And Yell Random Words At Squirrels And Shrubs.]

See? NFTB is a perfect middle ground.

If the Supreme Court ends up implementing this (which they assuredly will), I expect royalties.

I'll buy you all lunch.

A Mulligan, Etc, and So On.

2006-11-25T23:02:00.000-05:00

I'm NFTB right now.

That's right.
Not Fit To Blog.

But you can all go ahead and consider this a post.

I already used up my "blah blah blah" schtick, so this is all I can muster.

Real words tomorrow. Promise.

68 Pineapples for Impaling Your Enemies

2006-11-24T16:47:00.000-05:00

Even though I wouldn't go near a store today even if you promised me free soft serve ice cream and a vat and a half of Maker's, I will kick off the shopping season by adding an item to my Christmas List.

It is this.

Obviously I want the dog one.

Also, even though I don't want this personally, I think this may be the perfect gift for my godson. He is 7.

Talk about awesome copy: "The Avenging Unicorn Play Set has everything you need to use the power of the unicorn to rid your life of irritations! Put the posable, hard plastic unicorn on a flat surface and then impale one of three soft plastic figures included (businessman/boss, new age lady and mime)."

I just love the word impale.

Also: New Age Lady.
Someone define that.

[photo cred]

14 Pineapples for Lolita and Pie

2006-11-23T22:56:00.000-05:00

I'm watching Lolita. The Kubrick version. It is a Thanksgiving classic.

Hope everyone enjoyed their turkey and pie.

Not to brag or anything, but my carrots were crinkle-cut.

12 Pineapples for Real Cranberry Sauce.

2006-11-22T21:32:00.000-05:00

Blah blah blah Thanksgiving blah snoopy balloon blah blah gravy blah.

Blah blah I don't even like stuffing (so very sorry, Kate), blah blah but I do blah blah squash blah.

Turkey!

Blah blah narcotics and blah vodka shots blah blah.

Thanksgiving blah: May the blah be thanksful blah.

19 Crabapples for Fitness Lips

2006-11-21T19:20:00.000-05:00

This is just to say:

If you wear glaring hot pink lipstick at the gym, you should be shot dead. In front of all of the other gym-goers. With your body left as blatant evidence of what went wrong.

Come on, lady, you could tell it was freshly applied.
Prissface on fire.

10 Pineapples for the Frog

2006-11-20T20:47:00.000-05:00

I've been an absolute weirdo since I woke up this morning.
Mostly because "woke up" is loose phrasing for today.
Instead, I think I've been at about 40% capacity of aliveness, tops.
My head has spent every minute since 7am questioning the ground, the sky, and this dull, throbbing ache which has slowly and effectively emcompassed the upper right-hand quadrant of my head.

It's been the type of day when I'm just sitting there, working on something, and suddenly it becomes completely crucial for me to know the average life span of a daschund (12-13 years; see, I'd think they die young) or a donkey (45!), or the percentage of Americans who currently own a gerbil/hamster (approx 2%).
Okay, maybe not "crucial," but more "generally helpful in the propulsion of the day at-large."

And now I'm sitting here drinking hazelnut coffee (which I don't like), while watching Deal or No Deal (which I loathe) in a definitive act of lack of a better idea.

[On a side note, I hate this Kay Jewelers commercial with the old movie and the diamond circle pendant. It makes me gag audibly. I'd go so far as to say "wretch."]

I think this all started because I saw this leaf on the way to work that I was certain was a dead frog. But it wasn't. It was a leaf (as I said at the beginning of this paragraph, thereby ruining the story). But yea, and then I was disappointed. Not because the frog wasn't dead, but that it wasn't a frog at all. See?

And I could read, I guess. But the book I'm reading chronicles the dissolution of a marriage. And the crumbling of a family.
That probably won't help.

And it's strange. Because I'm in a fantastic mood. Just foggy and amazingly unfocused.

Tomorrow I'll try wearing bright colors. And loud shoes. And possibly finger cymbals?

Whatever. I probably just need more biotin.

58 Pineapples for the CCAE

2006-11-19T21:23:00.000-05:00

I look forward to it every season like a very good child waiting for a soft-baked cookie.

The Cambridge Adult Education Catalog.

The thing's a certified riot.

I swear they string eight random words together in some sort of fucked-up Surrealist drinking game and then call it a class.

For example, I give you (from the Winter catalog):

Covering Up with Native Vines
[huh? Is this gardening or Creationism?]

The Methods of Psychology of Succeeding with Your Boss and Succeeding as a Boss
[This should obviously be split into two classes. I absolutely assure intra-hierarchy wartime here.]

Adult Children of Alcoholics
[Adult children? Wait; What? I thought I understood that class, but no. Okay, wait, yea, okay, I get it, but it's badly worded.]

The Educated Back
[yea, like, your back. Meh?]

Change Your Inner Talk: Change Your World
[I'm just gonna leave that one alone.]

Nightclub Two-Step [aka "Grinding Up on Others in a Group Setting"]

Passion & Purpose: Creating a Road Map for the Rest of Your Life
[In a Saturday afternoon? Suuuuure, I fucking dare you.]

Appalachian Dulcimer for Beginners [What?! No advanced section??]

The Possibilities of Polenta [REALLY? I mean, uhhh, intriguing?]

Full Body Massage Techniques with a Partner [um, because that's not awkward.]

Winter term begins January 8th. Go ahead, enrich yourselves.

A Mixed Basket Of Pines and Crabs for Debatable Cuteness

2006-11-18T10:15:00.000-05:00

Sometimes I love cute things, and sometimes I don't.
See, here's how it is:

A few weeks ago, I came across this site, which, apparently, is one of the highest trafficked sites out there in this vast webbynet. That I did not know; seriously, I hadn't even heard a whisper of buzz about it.

Then again, I typically avoid blogs about the following (but not limited to):

1. Babies, especially babies just sitting doing nothing, drooling all over themselves. If your baby can hand-jive and name all of the presidents chronologically, then perhaps I want to hear about it. Perhaps not.
[Listen, I responsibly read all of the baby posts in my "regular" round of blogs, and sometimes I even genuinely admit cuteness and glee; however, as a rule, consider me unmoved. Sure, this may change; I understand that.]

2. Kittens. Now, Kate, this in no way knocks Friday Cat Blogging. In fact, I very much look forward to Friday Cat Blogging. (Where was yesterday's, huh?) Because Kate is witty and quirky about it. What I just can't tolerate: "Look at my pretty kitty. Ain't she darling? I bought her a cat toy and she used it!!! SEE?"
Yea, no shit. And yea, I fucking see.

3. Pining for Love. Now, I need to qualify this one, too. Because one of my favorite regular reads is Charming But Single, which, at heart, is a search-4-luv blog. BUT, butbutbut, Charming is sharp and wry and vulnerable, which is the polar opposite of the gratingly lachrymose blogs I loathe:
If I don't find my Mr.Right within, like, 6 minutes, then I am convinced that I am an undesirable, insufferable, scabby fatty.
Listen, finding love is hard. It will continue to be. For all of us.
Now go ahead and shut the fuck up.

So, back to the post at hand: how do I feel about Cute Overload?
Really great actually.
I mean, I don't want to visit it everyday. But sometimes they have puppies that you could just eat up they're so adorable. And puppies are at least 17 times cuter than kittens, at the least.

That's just true.

[flickr thanks to Tostie14.]

1 Mulligan for One Davis Square

2006-11-17T23:02:00.000-05:00

For those of you in the Boston area, remember One Davis Square? Okay, fine, I live here and I don't either... I mean, I think it was brown, and maybe some brick. Or stucco. Or not. I don't know.

Um, anyway, this is what it looks like now.
A gaping hole, representing fear, death and nuanced apocalyptic memories of dismemberment, blood-stained trousers, and hidden jewels.

Mmm hmm.

I wonder what it will be now?? I hope it's an ice skating rink with an ice cream stand and a hookah lounge and a petting zoo. And a beach.
Definitely a beach.

1550 Pineapples for This Dog

2006-11-16T18:13:00.000-05:00

I met this dog at Starbucks today.

I do not know what her name is, but she's quite pretty.

Also, she has a cup right next to her, so I assume her to be a beggar.

Unless that cup is for water, in which case I feel bad for dropping in a nickel.

Sure, Pineapples, Yea. How about 12? Great.

2006-11-15T21:13:00.000-05:00

So sometimes I like to type in random crap into my browser to see if they are real sites.

Whatever. Shut up.

So, recently I have learned:

www.dogfood.com: owned by PetSmart
www.uglyiguana.com: a website design company
www.treesaregood.com: homepage of the International Society of Arboriculture
www.dragshowpuppets.com: nope. damn it.
www.lollipopcircus.com: fuck. nothin'.
www.sandwichorburrito.com: I'm buying that domain.
www.logicalkitten.com: This game is getting less fun.
www.magicaloatmeal.com: F. F you. Fine. No more compund URLs.
www.muffin.com: muffin stuff. super lame.
www.takealongwalkoffashortpier.com: HA. Not even kidding... Business and government software.
www.dude.com: NOT A SITE?!

And neither is www.dudethatscool.com.

I am a certifiable waste of space.

Desiring a Mulligan.

2006-11-14T20:55:00.000-05:00

I want to go back to Paris.
I mean, come on, look at this.

Also, I had nearly forgotten how big the Eiffel Tower is.
See? It is very big.

Now I am all filled with wanting.

First Want: a hot crepe with powdered sugar from a street vendor.

Second Want: a long stare at Notre Dame.

Third Want: a walk along the Champs-Elysees, preferably with a light drizzle and slight fog.

gosh.

5 Mulligans for 5 Things, None of Which Are Even Real Topics

2006-11-13T22:10:00.000-05:00

1. I don't even really love cheeseburgers, but I just saw a commercial for the new Wendy's double jalapeno burger, and I just drooled all over my pajama pants.
Gross. And gross.

2. Let me clarify my Iron Chef prediction from yesterday. Fine, I was very wrong. BUT ....(Tom and Samantha)... I do not like Mario. It's really that simple. He and his crazy red ponytail can pony themselves right into the Crocs store. And wade in buckets of hard colored plastic ugiliciousness. And then he can wrap himself in endive leaves and a port reduction and wallow in his overgrown sideburns.

3. Hey STORES, don't make me think about Christmas yet.

4. I think my favorite kind of cake is white cake with chocolate frosting. I was thinking about this today after ruminating thoroughly upon Erin's cake tasting experience. Thank you, Erin, for inspiring me to do such rigorous soul-searching.

5. What's a good housewarming gift for a guy? [Jason, pretend you don't read my blog; also, you are not allowed to comment with "a hot car."]

25 Pineapples for the Joy of Miniature Baking

2006-11-12T19:50:00.000-05:00

I fondly remember the small brownies, the small cakes, the small cookies, the small pan, the small heat lamp thingy... and the small joy of making a fun treat out of powdered chemicals, dirty fingers, and love.

Congratulations to the Easy Bake Oven for being inducted into the National Toy Hall of Fame!

That's great and everything; I mean, bravo, etc... But the fact that this induction made NPR headlines? Hmm. Are we really in that much of a post-election news dip?

ALSO: Tonight on Iron Chef... Giada de "Huge Noggin, Lil' T-Rex Arms" Laurentiis vs. Miss OverPerked Rachael Ray. My money's on Giada.

[flickr thanks to E. Witcher.]

3 Mulligans for My Asshole of a Knee

2006-11-11T15:40:00.000-05:00

The Indian cooking experiment last night went very well taste-wise, although my counters and kitchenware are now permanently jaundiced. Also, I'm pretty certain that my apartment will smell strongly of curry powder and tumeric for at least the next 16 centuries.

So, I haven't blogged about this yet because it makes me pissy and unlikeable, but I need to...

My knee is broken. Major kaput.
What this means is that I can't run on it. And for those who know me even in the slightest capacity, you know that this makes me unconsolably sad and angry.

In fact, for the past two months since this injury occurred, I am convinced that my eyes have hardened into apoplectic slits; it's all I can do to not throw potted plants at people as they walk by simply because they are people and I am currently a wild, unreasonable wench.

I am trying to be nice; I really am. And I am being better with this than with past injuries (which is absolutely frightening). But I still get so fired-up every time I see someone running and I can't that I want to grab them and throw them to the ground and hold them there with my heel and get all in their face and scream "DO YOU APPRECIATE THIS? DO YOU APPRECIATE YOUR TWO GOOD FUCKING KNEES? HUH? HUH? YEA. I FUCKING THOUGHT SO. YOU ASS."

Thankfully, my (now yellow-curry-flavored) kitchen cabinets are stocked with vicodin and wine. And more vicodin.

And to everyone I have mentally or physically bitch-slapped in the past 2 months, please don't take it personally.
Even though I hate you.

112 Pineapples for the Glory of Paint Fumes

2006-11-10T14:26:00.000-05:00

I walked out of my apartment into my hallway today and smelled the sweetest smell there is...

Fresh Paint.

So yummy.

I don't care... oil paints, house paint, spray paint... it's all delicious to my nose.

My close runner-up is a campfire, but those are harder to come by in Somerville.

Tonight I'm attempting to make Indian food, so the mix of smells should be absolutely awe-inspiring.

199 Crabapples for the Fact that THIS Almost Made Me Kill Myself.

2006-11-09T12:17:00.000-05:00

Now I am going to try to learn how to put this in a feed.

And then I am going to make podcasts for Wiffiti Blog. And then real podcasts for here, too.

I am sweating.

Podcasts are harder than I thought.
This blogging shit seems like cake now.

Podcasters, I raise my glass.
If I hadn't already smashed it on the ground in horrifying tech-anger.

I am now so psyched. Stay tuned for CFCasts.

6 Mulligans for the Old Lady Who Kicked My Ass With Her Ug Green Car

2006-11-08T19:47:00.000-05:00

We all have a list of special "firsts":
First Kiss
First Real-Person Job
First Hangover
First Time Eating Biscuits and Scrambled Eggs [gaaaaaaaaaaaahyum]
First Time You Started Questioning "Life" on a Daily Basis

Sure.

Well, today I added a new one to my personal tally:
First Time Getting Hit by a Car

Now, understand me here, I've been in more car accidents than you can shake a dangling bumper at, but I've never had this happen...

I'm walking to work this morning through Davis Square, waiting to cross the street by the Somerville Theater. Walk light walkifies. As I step off the curb, the car in the righthand lane goes. Directly into my thigh. You betcha. I look the driver in the eye: a 482-year-old woman wearing a dumb hat and glasses as thick as all get-out. Still, she does not stop. Meh. So, I hoist myself up onto her hood. And then she notices. And starts screaming... "I'm sooooooooooooorrrrrrrrrrry OH MY GOD, Oh MY God!"

Yea, that's pretty much the end of it. It was fine. I'm fine. Moo.

I continued my walk to work, and was slightly weirded out for a half-hour or so, because, like, that was weird.

But, by 10am, I'm thinking, "wow, rad, I got hit by a car today..."

"Sweet... NaBloPoMo is all set for tonight."

Also, I have a neato bruise on my ass, which is pretty cool.

50 Crabapples for So-Not-a-Bake-Sale

2006-11-07T19:48:00.000-05:00

I have a bone to pick.

"With crying babies?" you ask.

No.
But almost kinda close.

With Bake Sales.
Or, at least, with the Bake Sale I ended up at today.

I voted at an elementary school today on my lunchbreak. Because I was trading foodage with voteage, when I saw the glitter and puff paint "Bake Sale Today" sign, I followed it. I thought, "yayaaa, I will get a homemade cupcake with sprinkles and green frosting and sugary doo-dads. Maybe there will even be a frosting-outlined picture of a cat or a bell or something on it"
YO BITCH: WRONG.

Instead, on the table, I see:
1. "Brownie Bites" brand brownie bites
2. Little baggies of Chex Mix
3. Single-serve packages of Chewy Chips Ahoy (which..fine...are very good, but...)
4. Juice Boxes
5. A tray of individually-packaged PB Cups.

What the fuck?

I mean, whatever, I know "people are busy" and crap, but then don't call it a fricking Bake Sale. Call it what it is: a wicked shitty convenience store in a smelly elementary school lobby.

Moooooo.

[So, what's up with the pic? Well, I was searching for "cookie" on Creative Commons, and instead found this Cookie. Thanks go to Jose Oliveira.
Also... Brit, nice call with the filing for divorce thing. Long overdue.]

880 Pineapples for a New Kirstie

2006-11-06T21:19:00.000-05:00

Kirstie Alley: what. is. up?

Ser'sly... a velvet bikini on Oprah? (You can view the vid there, too.)

She's 55. She just lost, like, 4 jajillion pounds.
Kirstie, I don't even honestly like you all that much on a general level, but daaaaaaamn girl... you, like, GO.

So, in the post below (see below), I requested input for a wine bar with a fireplace and some accompanying friends to come play with Jenny and I.
AHEM.
Un-naploblopomomono yourselves and join in!

100,000 Pineapples for Slithy Toves and Sauvignon Blancs

2006-11-05T21:02:00.000-05:00

I had such a wonderful weekend.
I really did.

The Morrill Mansion in Portland was brimming with unreal awesomeocity. The place was immaculater than immaculate, with unbelievable attention to detail. The bed was so very comfy, and it was topped with a softer-than-baby-chick blanket. There were fresh-baked brownies in the sitting room. The furniture in all of the rooms was gorgeouser than gorgeous. We had a jacuzzi tub. There were chocolates in a little container on the side table by the window (with a view of the water). There was a homemade buffet breakfast with scones and apple crisp and eggs and the-best-oatmeal-bread-my-mouth-has-ever touched. And tasty coffee. There was a cute little (real live) pug with his tongue just a little too long for his mouth. They offered a nice selection of DVDs to watch if you wanted. There were bronze horse statues. The shampoo smelled like candied lemon and eucalyptus. And the innkeeper, David, was probably the nicest man... like, in the world.

So that part was pretty good.

I have a couple pictures, but I need to wait until my Official Blog Photographer hooks me up.

We ate dinner at Fore Street, which was seriously-you-shut-up good. It was an open kitchen, so you could see the cooks going to the veggie closet and getting fresh ingredients... and pulling rustic bread loaves out of the big brick oven... and grating cheese right from the block onto salads. I could go on and on and on. And on. I won't, but I will say that I had [excellent] swordfish with bacon and onions and roasted turnips. It's hard to make turnips memorable; but, with a tart cider glaze, these were.

And Jason had a venison ragout thing that he definitely would have taken home and made love to if it wouldn't have made a mess on the nice sheets.

Then we went to a wine bar (aptly named "The Wine Bar," and sat in front of a cozy fireplace on cush-chairs).

We spent the rest of the night at The Purple Caterpillar, an Alice-and-Wonderland-BeatGen-and-Beatles hookah lounge. We had vanilla. And I was put to shame by Jason's fresh-from-Dubai shisha skillz.
Bonus: Jabberwocky written on the wall in the bathroom so it could be read rightways in the mirror.

The bounty we brought back: 7 bottles of wine from Old Port Wine Merchants. The owner, (a Georgian named Jacques) was possibly the nicest man in the world...
next to David the innkeeper, of course.
Trying to get ahold of a hard-to-find wine? Call him: 207.772.WINE.
As a side note, I wish that was my phone number.

I am sad that it is Sunday night, because I wanted to stay forever and ever and ever. And now I have the stressful task of switching back and forth between the Pats and Iron Chef.

But this weekend:
'Twas [totally] brillig.

133 Crabapples for Someone Stealing Kanye's Binkie*

2006-11-04T10:07:00.000-05:00

Oh, Kanye, you fucking huge fucking baby.

Someone needs a simple lesson in an art of picking your battles.

*I hate the word "binkie."

23 Pineapples for a Less-Than-24-Hours Vaca

2006-11-03T20:36:00.000-05:00

I don't typically write about my blahblah(blah) day-to-day, but tonight I have little else.
So.

While dinner is cooking (salmon with JB honey bourbon glaze and baked cajun sweet potatoes... TAKE THAT, Bobby Flay), I'd like to show you where I'm going this weekend:
It is here. If you want to stop by, we'll be staying the the Back Cove Room. Come!

Yea... don't.

But if you want to have fun anyway this weekend, I suggest you get this.
And watch it in stupified amazement as it blossoms into hardened spherical iridescence.
And wantonly drink the liquid in the can like they tell you not to.

[photo cred.]

3 Crabapples for Being All Self-Referential, and Not in a Cool Magritte Way

2006-11-02T23:31:00.000-05:00

I am a bad person and I suck at NaBloPoMo.

This is the last time I will do *this* just to have a post.

I'll be honest: I am betting that I fail in this game.
Perhaps even tonight.

4 Mulligans for the YMCA, 02144

2006-11-01T21:02:00.000-05:00

Tonight, I went swimming at the Somerville YMCA, and:

1. The woman at the front desk asks me, "you're a high school student, right?" [no.]

2. The old man in the lane next to me spent at least 30 minutes doing handstands in the exact center of the pool. [what a diva.]

3. The guy sharing my lane wore a white swimsuit. [you moron.]

4. I forgot a towel so had to dry myself with the stupid hand dryers. [which blew cold air.]

But overall a wonderful experience.

On a sidenote, know those new Pampers diapers with "caterpillar flex"? I would die for a pair of black pants with that.

192 Pineapples, Crushed and Enveloped in Creamy Goodness

2006-10-31T21:28:00.000-05:00

Oh, Pinkberry... come... come... come to your momma!

First, essential background: I am obsessed with that mix-in frozen yogurt than you can find in every sub shop in Allston-Brighton, along with Angora Cafe, and Cabot's in Newton. FYI: I get cookie dough/M&M. Sometimes PB Cup if I'm feeling it.

You know-- it's the kind where they use that big machine that looks like a drill and they put in superfrozen chunks of ice cream and then it comes out all twisty and creamy and hypersweet and wondrous. Pure beauty!

I just learned that there's a new sub shop in Davis (Top Speed Pizza) that has this phenomenal treat! And they deliver it!

So then I see this whole Pinkberry thing on Cool Hunting today, and instantly recommence drooling. It's supposedly less sweet than regular mix-in, and has that real yogurty twang that's so good.

I want one.

[photo cred to Cool Hunting.]

**and speaking of cones (well, sorta), check out pizza cones over on BMA.

Pineapples Only. But Dressed as Crabapples. With Hats That Look Like Mulligans.

2006-10-30T20:57:00.000-05:00

I am fragmented.
Go:

1. Because Google is eternally doused in strawberries and cream and wonder, Goog Co-op now offers Customized Search Engines. Google, even if you become a horrific giant of interweb domination, covered in soot and mucus and puppy shards, I will never stop loving you.
::144 Pineapples for infinite piles of über-logical nerdery.

2. I am very much into Gewürtztraminer. This makes me feel like I live in Weston and own a purebred golden retriever and half of the Pottery Barn catalog. But, as long as I still eat dry cereal in handfuls for dinner, I consider myself safe.
This weekend, Jason and I have a field trip planned to Vinodivino to pick this shit up. Wine Spectator gives it a 92. (thanks sdt.)
::190 Pineapples. With a mineral undertone.

3. Tom has managed to get me even more riled upabout Iron Chef. Just to let you all know, the Iron Chef Battle of the Masters DVD set is on sale for $24.95.
Battle for Supremacy tees can also be had for 15 bucks. Worth it.
::16 Pineapples for continual reruns of Battle BigEye Tuna.

::Also, 18 pretentious crabapples to me for using two umlauts in one post. Also, I will freely admit that I just learned how to do that today, so it was kind of a rush. [And yes, this makes me an asshole.]

Happy Halloween! I hope your neighbors give out Butterfingers. Full-size.

33 Pineapples for Cheesy 'Mallows

2006-10-29T21:58:00.000-05:00

Iron Chef secret ingredient tonight is HONEY! Yes!
A welcome change from the typical feature of obscure meat slabs. And IC Cat Cora is MAKING CHEESE! Right in kitchen stadium! I may not sleep tonight from the residual excitement.

One important update: Last week I discussed Doggles. A big thank you to Dan for providing me with proof that this whole Doggles op is legit.

Also, since I'm having an absolute ball sticking dowels up Cosmo's ass lately, I'm going to continue.

Ready? This is all true.

Q&A:

I'm bitchy when I'm stressed. What can I do?

Cosmo says: "When you sense a bout of stress coming on...acknowledge your feelings and sum them up in one sentence, like This really sucks, making sure to identify exactly what's making you tense."

Hm. Okay. Cool. Lemme try!

Cosmo, we used to be friends and I used to respect your mind-numbing qualities and information about how to buy jeans that make my ass look nice, but you are beginning to make me feel so fucking stupid for giving money to your cause that I may begin poking pinholes in my fingers so I can bleed delicately all over your Monthly Style Checklist.

Fabulous advice, Cosmo... I think it worked!

Iron Chef Update: The challenger is making marshmallows!
Cheese v. Marshmallows? Best battle ever.

17 Crabapples for DirtyNasty Mitts

2006-10-27T07:15:00.000-04:00

Update: I found something even stupiderder in Cosmo than Tuesday's gem.

If you have this month's issue, I urge you to turn to page 99 and focus your eyes on the hot pink inset (within a larger frame of a giggly maiden clutching a plastic bear/honey receptacle).

Read with me:

Sex Toy Tips---

If you like... Try...
Ice Cubes... Popsicles [okay]
Feathers... A Cashmere Scarf [sure]
Massage Oil... Salt Scrub [whatev]
A Hair Brush... A Kitchen Mitt

Hold up, Harry and the Hendersons.
Don't you fucking dare come at me with a crusty-ass, i've-been-in-chicken-pot-pie-and-assorted-creamy-casseroles kitchen mitt.

I may not be Dita von Teese, but hell if allow an ov-glove into my bed.
Unless it's clutching a loaded cookie sheet.

1.5 Crabapples for Dippy Doggles

2006-10-25T21:15:00.000-04:00

YEEEEEEEAAAAAH BOYZ.

If there's one thing everyone needs, it's...
it's....
Doggles!

That's right, friends...
Goggles for your doggo.

There are different sizes, styles, and colors to fit even the most problematic puppyface. There are even matching hats!

[Also, if your pooch is a big doppelganger junkie, you can get him this. Wicked meta.]

What I really don't understand is Prescription Doggles.
"Yo, Clancy, uh, why don't you place this in front of your right eye and read me the fourth line down."

[photo cred to Doggles.com.]

800 Crabapples for Trash That Crossed the Line

2006-10-24T21:49:00.000-04:00

I'll have you know that Boston has the highest percentage (53.6%) of guys who have never been married in the nation, according to the Census Bureau.

I just learned this from the November issue of Cosmo, in an OH-so-OMG enlightening (no, no, not at all) article about "The Best Places to Meet a Guy."

Now, don't get me wrong, I love the trashy, pointless, mindless cream-puffery of Cosmo. Especially laying in bed. Maybe with some Smartfood. mmmmmmm Yeaaaaa.

But this article is worse than Twinkie-filling.
Check this shit out...
Cosmo's top places to find a guy:

1. The Apple Store
2. The Weight Room
3. A Fortune 500 or Tech Company [what? you just walk in? no, no, no.]
4. A Political Rally
5. A Sports Bar on a Sunday or Monday Night
6. A Volleyball League
7. A Rock-Climbing Center
8. A Steak House
9. A Grad School Coffee Shop

Good lord. A more appropriate title for this list would be "Top Places to Not Bother a Guy with a Lame Come-on (because he's busy and doesn't feel like talking to you right now. At all.)

I appreciate their creativity, and their departure from "dress like a slut and go to a bar where boys like sluts," but fricking A...

This list is the equivalent of saying that the top places to find a girl are:

1. The Nail Salon
2. The Hair Salon
3. The Rice Cake Factory
4. The Diet Coke Factory
5. The Coach Store
6. Ballet Class
7. The Dressing Room of Bebe Screaming About Her Hips
8. Curves

Okay, to be fair, I'll give them grad school coffee shop. And maybe volleyball league.

But let me tell you why I'm really not pleased with my dear Cosmo this month.
AHEM.
Okay, so in an article entitled "Things Guys Just Don't Want to Know About You," I give you:

"Guys don't want to know... How Smart You Are."

"Why?," you ask.
You ready?
You sure?
Fine. Here:

"If you find yourself using the names Hemingway, Dostoevsky, or Nietzsche more than once per conversation, you may be guilty of academic name-dropping, which reeks of insecurity. There's no better illustration of false advertising than someone peering over a thick copy [um, as opposed to a thin copy? whatever, assfucks] of Crime and Punishment in a busy coffee shop. You may as well be wearing a sign that reads Buyer Beware."

I'm so getting one of those signs.

23 Pineapples for Firefox 2

2006-10-23T23:25:00.000-04:00

This is going to be way boring. I'm sleepy.

Firefox 2 is available for download today (well, Tues morn)! Check out Read/WriteWeb's eval of their marketing strategy here.

Also, the iPod turns 5 today. What up, iPod!
You can see Jobs' initial launch here. In retrospect, the whole thing seems all creepily "we will eat the rest of the market like a sandwich and not even need mustard because we enjoy the sinewy goodness of destroying lesser companies."
Which, let's face it, is one of the reasons why I salute Steve Jobs. Repeatedly. Throughout the day.

Also if I get up to pee at night.

Changing gears:
One recommendation, especially after the Skilling development today. Watch The Smartest Guys in the Room. Very well done.

See? I am neither amusing nor punchy tonight. Mostly because my left eye is already closed and my right eye is jealous. Moo.

55 Pineapples for Douchebag Nominations

2006-10-21T09:29:00.000-04:00

I'm a big fat day late on my Blogtoberfest recap; I feel halfway sad about that. As I explained to Tom (who I like IRL even more than in his blog. and I like his blog.), I should shuffle you all to my "Other Places to Find Me" section in my sidebar... because I'm still actively blogging, just not as much here.
/cop-out.

Also, after meeting John, I am going to get real about doing a podcast. I've gotten close before, and then let it flitter away. This time it will happen. I'll keep you updated on title and theme. I'm thinking that it'll be a combination of Phantom Gourmet and TechCrunch. And I may announce puppies up for adoption ala Bob Barker. And discuss dessert wine.
The Phantom Muscat PuppyCrunch Show? Sure as rain.
Because that sounds very elegant. Also, I'm pretty certain that URL is available.

Oh, and my other major takeaway of Blogtoberfest is that erinire has the most perfect teeth on the planet.

This completes my comprehensive recap.

I would also like to announce a new addition to my blogroll: Tedious Charm.
SDT is wonderful and witty and new to the blogging scene, so you should go here and contribute to her Douchebag Hall of Mediocrity.

If you need a little help, SDT offers an example submission:

Dear Tedious Charm, I would like to nominate to the Douchebag (or Douche Bag) Hall of Mediocrity every boyfriend I ever had before I met my husband. I would also like to nominate anyone who read the previous sentence and sinckered, "Well, THAT'S a short list."

First and foremost, I nominate the Jordan's Furniture guys.
And Justin Timberlake.
And that little kid from Jerry Maguire.

Avogadro's Number of Pineapples for the Dudley Coop

2006-10-18T09:09:00.000-04:00

Can you read that?

The sign on the house?

Squint. Hard.

It's worth it.

Yes. "Center for High Energy Metaphysics."

Apparently it's also known as the Dudley Coop... shockingly, Harvard students! NO WAY!

Only in Cambridge do you see a house named like bomb factory that's actually the nucleus of all things tofu and hemp.

Oh, dorks are fun.
Also, I sorta want to live there.

[thanks jason for the stunning photo work.]

Pineapples, Pineapples, Pineapples for $26 Bottles!

2006-10-15T19:39:00.000-04:00

1. Up until this weekend, I hadn't eaten Kix since I was...hmmm...probably...seven. Well, the hugeass-size box was on sale this past spin through the G-store, so I bought it.
After consuming bowl 1, I am totally convinced that each individual Kix (kick?) is half the size it used to be.
Yo. Is this true?

Amidst my quest to find out if the above is true (or if, perhaps, the wondrous phenomenon of me "getting bigger since I was seven" is what has dwarfed them), I googled "size of kix." What I found was not some sort of cereal evolution chart, but a sizing chart for a Kix halloween costume (the box, not the actual corn puff itself). That's kind of a fun idea, right? Yep, sure.
:: Anyway, 12 Shrunken Pineapples for Shape Shifting ala Milled Corn.

2. Thanks to Real Girl for the America's Next Top Model Drinking Game. Hilarious.
Additionally, the "cream-filled cake" lip balm mentioned within that same post sounds wonderful. Although my current Tootsie Roll lip balm tastes like asscandy, so one can never feel full confidence in petroleum-based dessert tubes.
:: 53 Pineapples for a new BLOG! to read.

3. Any Bostonians been to Ivy in the Ladder District? It's fairly new, and I've seen its ads plastered all over the Metro and Weekly Dig and Stuff at Night; also, just this morning it was featured on Phantom Gourmet.
What's so alluring about it? Well, two things:

Our unique wine program features over 60 bottles of wine priced at $26.00 per bottle, most of those wines are also served in 6oz and 12oz Reidel crystal quartino’s. This program was created to encourage guests to explore and enjoy new vintages and give them the unique ability to change the type of wine they are drinking as their food selections change.

such

sounds

:: 45 Hypothetical Pineapples for Ivy. I would dole even more if I could afford it. And to anyone who's been, lemme know if it's worth it.

34 Mulligans for Enfranchised Bicyclists

2006-10-11T21:14:00.000-04:00

I was driving through Somerville today, humming along merrily to the Pussycat Dolls, when WHAM-O, I was visually besieged by the bumper sticker stopped at the light in front of me:

I BICYCLE. AND I VOTE.

Um. Okay.
I, uh, OWN A BOOKSHELF. AND I EAT.

Seriously, what the fuck is that supposed to mean? I BICYCLE. AND I VOTE?
Huhwha?
I did not know.
So, I went back to work and asked Mike: “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
Our best guess was that it was some sort of Dadaist bumper sticker experiment, which actually would have been pretty cool.
We quickly co-google.

The verdict: It’s a real thing. Like, an actual campaign. Like, somebody thought of this slogan. On Purpose.

Mind-blowing.

And then I think, “Hmm. Know what that reminds me of?
Colorless green ideas sleep furiously."

To which Mike is all “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
So I promptly wikify Chomsky and his iconic nonsensicalocity.

Upon burrowing down further and further into Wikivillia (not without turning up this fantastic contest from a lit magazine asking people to provide context for Chomsky’s sentence in 100 words or less), I find this great online version of the Exquisite Corpse, one of my favorite games ever invented by Surrealists.

[At this juncture I will subtly encourage you to read Breton’s Manifestoes of Surrealism. Because everyone can use a lil' polysemous meaninglessness on a Thursday.]

**flickr thanks to annais.

89 Crabapples for Grabby, Grabby Lane Aquisitions

2006-10-10T20:16:00.000-04:00

Dear Every-MBTA-Bus-in-Boston-and-Adjacent-Suburbs,

You are horrible.
No wait. Let me start over.
Dude, I understand that you're a bus (and also that buses are large), so really-- don't take this the wrong way.

But tonight, I was driving down Mass Ave, and you insisted on taking up all of the lanes. I just wanted one. You were certain that you deserved three.
For the record: You do not.

The fact that you are what you call a "public transportation vehicle" in no way means that you are exempt from the common practice that we "private vehicles" routinely refer to as "picking a lane."

With that, I bid you adieu. Friday Night Lights has started, and it deserves my attention far more than you do.
Listen-- you know that's true.

Til later,
Jaynie K

1 Mulligan for a Netflix Slip

2006-10-10T12:58:00.000-04:00

Hey.

I've been bad at blogging lately because I've been spending more time over at BeyondMadisonAvenue. Go try it; you'll like it.

But, I will take a lunch break moment to state a very crucial statement and ask a very crucial question:
I mailed back one of my own DVDs in with a Netflix DVD. Is it gone forever?

I'll try customer service later this afternoon, but I think it may be lost in a dark abyss of zillions of discs. I just picture it shoved at the bottom of a trash heap akin to the talking one on Fraggle Rock.

That would suck.

Update: just went on the netflix site and shuffled through their FAQs.
To my dismay:

Q: I accidentally returned a personal CD or DVD. How do I get it back?
A: Unfortunately, we're unable to return personal CDs or DVDs that are mistakenly sent to us.

Crap.
Netflix, I mean, I totally get it, but it's getting hard to still love you.

170 Pineapples for a Dish Worth Driving To

2006-10-05T22:27:00.000-04:00

Fine. I stole that title from the Phantom Gourmet.
And fine, it makes little sense in this context.
Call me slipshod. Or slapdash.
Or slashdot.
Really, whatever, I'm tired.

Anyway:
Scarlett Johansson has been named "Sexist Woman Alive" by Esquire magazine.

Well, uh, yea.

I fell madly in love with Scarlett in Ghostworld (cumulative audience, including dvd rentals: 4).
And my-my-my how far she's come! Seriously: YOU. GO.

Disagree with me if you will, but Angelina ain't got nothin' on SJ. She's elegant and charming, always looking together but never overdone. She's well-spoken. She's an absurdly talented actress. She never does patently dumb shit in public.
And, lest we not forget, she's undeniably amazingly not-even-possible-huhwhatyea attractive.

But the cake-topper of her appeal:

As CNN relays: "She... once flashed a sign proclaiming, 'the person taking this picture is harrassing me.'

'Apparently I spelled harass wrong,' she recalls. 'It was horrible. I couldn't remember whether it was one r or two, and I asked like four people, and they said two.'"

PSSSSSSSST, Scarlett. Those people are stupid. Call me. I'm super spectrophotofluorometrically, pneumoencephalographically, otorhinolaryngologically good at spelling.

19 Pineapples for a Show That Bears No Resemblance to MTV's Two-A-Days

2006-10-03T21:35:00.000-04:00

How many ways can you spin a Texas football drama?

It seems:

Every scene has already been written.

We've heard every hyper-motivational half-time step-it-up-and-turn-it-around-boys speech.

We've met every hero.
And, well, every highly likeable backup quarterback who will be asked to make good at a pivotal narrative juncture.

Right?

Nope.

I watched the pilot of Friday Night Lights tonight. And I'm undeniably hooked. In short: it's awesome.

The NYT agrees. Check out this review:

"Lord, is “Friday Night Lights” good. In fact, if the season is anything like the pilot, this new drama about high school football could be great — and not just television great, but great in the way of a poem or painting, great in the way of art with a single obsessive creator who doesn’t have to consult with a committee and has months or years to go back and agonize over line breaks and the color red; it could belong in a league with art that doesn’t have to pause for commercials, or casually recap the post-commercial action, or sell viewers on the plot and characters in the first five minutes, or hew to a line-item budget, or answer to unions and studios, or avoid four-letter words and nudity."

With (or perhaps despite) a premise that's evolved into its own subgenre, Friday Night Lights moved me to tears in Episode 1.
That deserves some serious pineapples.

*If you're patient, you can watch the entire pilot online.

1000 Crabapples for 100-Calorie Packs

2006-10-02T21:50:00.000-04:00

Dear Nabisco Team:

When I want a snack, I would typically reach for one of your products;
generally, they are pretty good.

Let's run through some examples:
Chips Ahoy... good.
Wheat Thins... Good.
Cheese Nips (though markedly not cheez-its)... GOOD.

So whassup with the unjust miniturizationalization of yummy snacks?

You see, I bought some. And I opened the little pack. And it was virtually empty. And I had a ferocious urge to just throw the wholedamn box away. Because even if I ate the wholedamn box, I would likely still want a snack.
You have stolen the hollow joy of "enriched wheat flour," which we all know is surely anything-but-enriched.

In short, you are the purveyors of snacking bullshit.
Most expeditiously, I will be ponying up to a new snacking-food-corporation that will feed me for realz.

Sincerely,
Jaynie K

P.S. The Snack Fairy can go F himself.

236 Pineapples for Sunday;Pats Lead by 25.

2006-10-01T19:12:00.000-04:00

My attention span has been sucked dry, and my mind is as floppy and cushy as the hoodie and sweatpants I've been rocking all afternoon.

Ergo, a mash of next-to-nothing:

1. Went to Anthem last night. Despite the construction and very elegant scaffolding adorning the exterior, the food and service were both excellent.
Most noteworthy: the cinnamon, fig, and vanilla infused bourbon. and the standing silver wine bucket with ice propped conveniently next to our table. and the artichoke-spinach (it's back!) risotto. Also, our server was small enough to fit in my hand.
::150 Perfectly-Paired, Pint-Sized Pineapples.

2. One day this week, I want to try out a class at the Dance Complex in Cambridge. I can't decide if I want to go the way of tap or hip-hop. Perhaps both. Although I've always, always, always wanted a pair of those beige tap shoes with heels. And then I could wear leggings and not consequently force myself to drink a repentance-cocktail of turpentine and milk.
::16 Premature Pineapples.

3. I bought this at Sephora yesterday, and the whole fricking experience of it confuses the crazap outta me. I fought with it for at least 10 minutes last night, clicking, shaking, and twisting the damn thing. I ended up with an uneven gloop on my eyelid and a big fat scowl on my face.
::12 Crabapples, in Iridescent Beige.

4. Check out this chart of Netflix vs. Blockbuster stock values.
Please suppress your startled faces.
::Oh, Netflix, you know I love you. 70 Pineapples with butter, salt, and a cozy blanket.

179 Crabapples for Domino's Vomitous Brownie Mascot

2006-09-28T21:28:00.000-04:00

I have a pretty high tolerance for gross things.

I've painted my arms with rubber cement just to pull off the gooey-halfdry sheets of elementary-school-ectoplasm.

I've done push-ups in dogcrap (mostly by accident).

I eat canned corn with ketchup.

But mother-of-all, I CANNOT get behind the new Domino's Fudgems commercial.

Being an insider in the industry, I managed to get my hands on the transcript, which I will kindly share:

1. Baby-faced, toolbaggish delivery guy comes to the door all smiley and lame.

2. Greets mom and little girl in a way that proves that has never, and will never, get laid.

3. Camera pans to Furry-Block-of-Shit.

4. Delivery Tool says something unexciting about dipping sauce and hands sticky brownie chunk to mom.

5. Mom says something dumb and faux-cheerful, and then quickly proceeds to pat the Furry-Block-of-Shit, only to get shit on her hand.
She titters like an impressionable lamb.

6. Mom pawns off gross brownie to daughter, who eats it and then hugs Furry-Block-of-Shit and tells him that she loves him, only to get covered in shit.
[EYE ON THE BALL, little lady! Did you NOT see what JUST happened to your mom's gross hand?? Also, you have shown me that you clearly have no idea what love is. I mean, I don't know much, but I do know that love is NOT tufted excrement.]

7. Mom and daughter laugh like Stepford Wives. The pair waves to the Delivery Toolbag with markedly limp wrists. Mom yells "OHHHH FUDGEMS! as supreme final justification of her empty mind and complete lack of acting ability.

aaaaaaaaaaaaand CUT!

--On a Fudgie sidenote, check out this story about a fudgems heist, involving (shock of all shocks) teenagers, weed, and brownie batter.

--On a BLOG-meets-IRL sidenote, I was lucky enough to have drinks with Jenny last night, and she very demurely and politely asked for a few pineapples of her own.
Jenny: GRANTED! 94 are in the mail, peeled and pre-cubed.
I suggest fondue.

63 Gimme-Gimme Pineapples.

2006-09-26T18:09:00.000-04:00

Have a thang for customization?

Well, luckily, the consumer-generated world is at your grabby ol' fingertips.

Here are some goodies for your i-want-what-i-want-when-i-want-it enjoyment:

Adjustable Hot Sauce.

Soda with Push-Button Flavors

and, last but not least... DYI M&Ms.

The next wedding present I buy will be a cute silver box of pastel M&Ms that says something memorably snarky.

Any suggestions other than "Hmm"/"That Sucks" in pale gray and pink?
Maybe "This is Not"/"A Toaster" in baby blue and white?

I'll keep thinking.

UPDATE: How about "Remember When"/"You Used To Sleep Around" in all green?

Probably too long.

98 Crabapples for a Citgo Kick in the Pants

2006-09-24T19:38:00.000-04:00

The Pats aren't on until 8.

This renders Jaynie bored.

So, instead of folding my laundry like a real-live-person would do, I'm going to take a moment to tell you that you can't replace the Citgo Sign with an American flag. [See the Fox News (puke, gak, gaaaaah) coverage here.]

Why?
Because the Citgo Sign doesn't represent Venezuela, or Chavez, or GW-with-horns;
rather, it represents centrality, community, and Fenway blasts.

The Citgo Sign is a Boston beacon. And an oblique derogatory comment should not be granted the power to take that away.

[And, if you're interested in reading a blogger who would vehemently disagree with me, click on over here.]

***flickr thanks to monkeyatlarge.

20 Pineapples for Heady Headerocity

2006-09-24T18:55:00.000-04:00

Blogfriends, hi!

As you may have noticed, I've been playing around today with my header. And my fonts. And my colors. And, as a matter of fact, a small nerf football.

And now everything looks different. I'm actually curious as to what it looks like on a non-mac.

PC Freaks: Oh, do tell!

Also... weirdest thing... the font I used in my new banner is called "Jayne"!
WHAT? I know. Pure Serif fate.

While I'm at it, a big shout-out to Dan Phiffer for the original flickr photo of tree branches (in the feathered inset), which I photoshopped to filter-saturation-relevelled death.

1594 Pineapples for Blogtoberfest

2006-09-21T21:23:00.000-04:00

BLOG!TOBERFEST.

Uh, it'll be awesome.

Soooooo awesome, in fact, that I'll be making pleather sashes, bedazzled with URLs in rhinestones.

There will be martinis, possibly even BLOGTINTIS, complete with extra vermouth, a splash of pom, and 18 loosely-twisted twists.

Fun.