:: Monday, June 30, 2003 ::
I BELIEVE IN THE POWER OF THE HAIRPIECE!:: Saturday, June 28, 2003 ::
Can I get an Amen from my sisters?
Oh God I just made myself puke.
Back from the loo, I DO believe! I bought two brand new hairpieces today, both designed for maximum style and ease of wearing. YESSAH!
Okay, so I bought some new falsies today: a small phony tail and a scrunchie-type thing with hair wrapped around it that looks like something my cats will have fun dragging around the living room. I have decided that to be a trendsetter I actually had to find a trend. This one just sort of fell into my lap.
I bought my first phony tail (flip flip flip!) just before Christmas. It wasn't very authentic-looking in that it didn't match my own hair very well, but it was FUN! I wore it to work once (on that fateful "Hawaiian Flowery Shirt Day"), but that was about it. Then, a couple of months ago, I purchased a new phony, and a legend was born. Every time I wore it to work at least one person asked me to show her how to do HER hair in that style. Most women seemed to realize that my hair was too short to look like that in an elastic band, but couldn't easily decipher the riddle. Just this past Friday a woman approached me asking if that was my "real hair", because there had been a discussion about it across the building.
I am apparently famous now for my hair - or at least for the hair I purchased.
Now this isn't one of those "buy hair and fit into the crowd" moments I know we all have from time to time, low-self-esteem-wearing Cosmo junkies that we are. No, this is a "damn, this is the easiest freaking thing I ever did with my hair, gimme some more!" happenstance that appears to have caught on in the best possible way.
I may never have to round-brush my hair again.
I should be so lucky.
So go forth, and spread the word! Easy-care hair is only a mall kiosk away! GO! BELIEVE!!!
Juliet, Defender of All Things Simon and Wearer of Perfectly Wonderful Fake Hair
:: happy hour begins at 5:39 PM [+] ::
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Update
"Necessity is the Mother of Invention." Indeed.
- I know where Starbucks is and can drive a car
- I always have my cell phone with me and it has a key to tell me my number
- I won't need to set a clock again until we "fall back", so that one's tabled
- Also tabled: setting a clock in my car (see above)
- Burning a CD - yeah, that's still on the list
- Apparently there is a trick to turning on the DVD player: I have to turn on our audio system first. Who knew?
- Instructions for canine feeding quantities are on the bag. Went to Petsmart and purchased new bowls, color coordinated to the dogs' leashes (blue, black and red)
- I don't need to operate the heater again until fall - item tabled
- OFF, Low Fan, Medium Fan, High Fan, Low Cool, Medium Cool, JESUS GOD IT'S AN IGLOO IN HERE
- Firewall still a mystery, but I got an optical mouse today! YAY!
- Setting the VCR to record - tabled until I learn what all the buttons on the remote do
- Voice mail - why bother? Everyone calls my cell phone anyway.
Life is good.
Juliet
:: happy hour begins at 7:18 PM [+] ::
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Worth Looking Into:: Friday, June 27, 2003 ::
Good morning, everyone! I have a big day ahead of me, so let's get this party started!
Let's begin with the obvious: I am spoiled. There are about 500 little tasks I should know how to complete, and yet don't because Mr. Speaks takes care of them. We giggled about that long into the night last night - what kind of feminist could I be if I didn't know how to set the damn VCR? Caught up in the merriment I came up with a list of basic functions I should be able to handle, and asked Mr. Speaks to teach them to me today.
I am an idiot.
Behold the list. Today I will learn...
- How to make coffee
- My cell phone number
- How to set at least one clock in the house
- How to set at least one clock in my car
- How to burn a CD
- How to turn on the DVD player
- How much to feed each dog and which bowl is whose
- How to turn the heater on and off without extinguishing the pilot light
- What the four settings on the air conditioner between OFF and JESUS GOD IT'S AN IGLOO IN HERE mean
- What a firewall is
- How to set the VCR to record (it has an atomic clock and I have been banned from touching THAT lest we end up in some aboriginal time zone)
- How to retrieve a voice mail
I am nothing if not ambitious.
Wish me luck, kids! I'm going to need it!
Juliet
:: happy hour begins at 10:51 AM [+] ::
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I WILL! I WILL! I WILL! I WILL!:: Thursday, June 26, 2003 ::
Since I'm sitting here lip syncing to Captain and Tenille, I will finally, freely admit that there is probably something wrong with me.
Another person with issues: the girl who emailed us at HFS/JS Industries to tell us we were nuts for liking Simon. She listed several reasons why he is the devil (obviously she never got the memo about Doris). Says Trudy (who gave her full name, and it would serve her ignorant ass right if I posted it here but I'm a better person than she): There will be a massive effort to boycott this, lying, vindictive, arrogant, egocentric, pompous, despicable, horrible, terrible and finally pathetic LITTLE person. I won't even call him a man, he doesn't know the meaning of the word - worm? weasel? skunk? snake? am I coming close?.
Simon? Did you sleep with a Trudy? Is there something you would like to share with the class?
Okay, this person can have her little opinion because, let's face it, the fewer women there are vying for his attention the better my chances are. But that this person thought it wise to unleash this tirade upon obvious worshippers is just plain befuddling. Oh! Well, damn! She's right! We should close all our sites and embark on a smear campaign to end the dirtbag's career!
Sure.
All you Simon haters out there can just bite my everloving ass. If you see fit to email us again, for Christ's sake don't give me your whole name. Not only do I have friends at the IRS, but I also co-produce many, many websites on which your full name and email address WILL appear. Policy effective immediately.
Oh! Captain and Tenille!
Love you all!
Juliet
:: happy hour begins at 7:43 PM [+] ::
...
There's death, there's taxes...
...and then there's the wrinkle in my shirt across my right breast, caused by my seatbelt.
Since it's about to be Friday I thought I'd try out my Amazing Kreskin abilities to predict which of the following seeming inevitabilities will occur in the next 24 hours:
- The "incoming email" chime will scare me at least once.
- I will smack my hand or knee on the corner of something.
- An eyelash will lodge itself in my eye, most likely immediately after mascara application.
- I will wonder if I forgot to turn off the coffeemaker or unplug the iron.
- I will answer the phone "good morning" in the afternoon.
- I will close down a program by mistake, probably Windows Media Player.
- I will catch my reflection in a mirror and wonder what the hell happened to my hair.
- A cat will shed on me, but only on whatever black fabric there is on my person.
- I will get wet, even if it isn't raining. Extends to handwashing, coffee and any other liquid within 12 miles of me.
- Someone will walk by my office and ask when I plan to finish redecorating. (It's called minimalism, people. Get with the program.)
Happy Friday, everyone!
Juliet
:: happy hour begins at 11:11 PM [+] ::
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Crisis Averted:: Wednesday, June 25, 2003 ::
Hey kids! WHEW! Boy, last night I somehow managed to completely decimate my template, meaning NO MORE BLOG! I spent tonight hacking it back together (I had a saved copy but it wasn't the latest and greatest), so if you see anything odd or the page is acting all freakish, please let me know. I'm sure there are things I've forgotten...
Meanwhile, NEW SHOUTS! I've left the old "shout out" system enabled so we could go back and read about the good old days, but please try to use the new system (Comments). Eventually I'll probably wipe out the ClassicShouts, but for now I'm just too much of a packrat to toss them.
SIMON! Aw, so cute on Conan! Running his fingers across his lips, petting his arm fur... Poor poor Ritalin boy. He so needs me. I bet I could find a few ways to help him expend all that energy...
I'm tired from all the code now. I think I'll go to bed, or maybe just drape myself over this chair and drool for a while. Time to visit the Pic of the Day site? Oh, I think so.
Love you all! Thanks for bearing with me!
Juliet
:: happy hour begins at 8:13 PM [+] ::
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Welcome to the PleasureDome:: Tuesday, June 24, 2003 ::
Screw sunshine, chocolate and Starbucks venti cafe mochas. Keep your money, your manicures and your strappy Manolo Blahnik sandals. You can even have my handbag collection. I HAVE SIMON!
Okay, I'll admit it: the Simon on Letterman was the pretty one better left muted, but on R&K today he was all doll! EEEEE! He was trying a bit too hard to woo Kelly, but I'll forgive him that because I find it totally adorable! God, he is so messed up. We both are: he is the "Nerd in Shining Armor" and I'm the girl whose heart he's won. SWOON!
As I look back over my dating days (cough) I recognize the pattern. Case in point was the sweet sports management major who exuded arrogance in public but was a closet teddy bear. We bonded over Shakespeare; after I helped him in class he finally, shyly asked me out. He made a picnic lunch and we went to the park. Sigh!
See, that's Simon for you. I'd bet my life he is all mush under that beautiful black T-shirt (packed tighter than a can of tomatoes, he is). And he TRIES to be ass-ish but fails miserably. I llllove it!
What I don't love is the fact that there isn't an INS agent among us. Why the fuck does the imaginary Extra correspondent still have a visa? What did I do in a former life to warrant her existence? (I've done a lot in this one to deserve it, but not before she was born - I was TWO.) GRRR!
Ah, well, all men have their flaws. Simon's just happens to be a fanny pack with big teeth and bad hair.
It wouldn't be real love if he were perfect.
Love you, Simon! Love you all!
Juliet
:: happy hour begins at 9:14 PM [+] ::
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Just Lie Down:: Monday, June 23, 2003 ::
So I woke up this morning inspired: it was going to be a ball-busting kind of day. As I brushed my teeth I envisioned a monolith, comprised of wit, experience and efficiency, rising up against the tyrannical beasts and their frenzied invasions of my ordered world. Three-inch heels would not hinder but help my strides be decisive and quick, and my Kiss Me Red lip gloss would deliver the words of big-T Truth to clients, coworkers and passing motorists alike. My tiara would shine.
Then I chose a flat pair of slides and the fantasy pretty much ended. By 9am I'd put Massive Attack's Angel, a sultry, hypnotic tune, on endless repeat. I lined up my most mindless tasks, and tipped them over one by one. I saved anything mentally challenging for tomorrow.
Or, you know, someday.
I've been in a funk lately, as I'm sure you've all noticed. This too shall pass. If it doesn't I imagine the Hari Krishnas are probably still recruiting. That can't be a bad gig.
Don't forget Simon tonight on Letterman! I prepared myself by having my nails buffed and painted, though my usual manicurist was out sick. That new girl hurt me! Too bad I was too apathetic to say anything. I guess the funk worked out for somebody.
Have fun tonight, and I'll talk to you tomorrow!
Hugs!
Juliet
:: happy hour begins at 9:10 PM [+] ::
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Sex and the Archetypes:: Saturday, June 21, 2003 ::
Hey kids! I know I've been absent and I wish I had a good excuse, but I don't. So, sorry. It'll probably happen again, but what can I say; at least I'm honest!
Owing to a slew of phone calls conducted in the last hours of Sunday evening I missed the premiere of Sex and the City. Please don't make me give my tiara back! I promise it won't happen again!
Well, it probably will but that's what VCRs are for! Taped, rewound and watched - I ADORE THIS SHOW! I'm terribly distraught that this is the last season but it looks like they're going to give us a hell of a send-off. Love it!
Hey Simon - you know what you said about women learning how to date from watching S&tC, and how men are screwed now because of it? I know I've said it before but it bears repeating: IT WAS ALWAYS LIKE THIS AND YOU JUST WEREN'T PAYING ATTENTION. It's been a decade since I've dated - well before this wonderful program aired - and I had plenty of brass to get the job done on my own. Before you were famous I'll bet you were the sort of man who sought out the "poor thing" table; otherwise you would have noticed that plenty of women weren't waiting for your...well, your notice.
So anyway, I love S&tC, just as I loved Designing Women and Golden Girls before it and Will and Grace now. You see, what we have are four women who basically fit together to make up all of us: the virgin, the whore, the smart(ass) and the one who seems to have a little bit of all of it. I am all four and I'll bet you, dear reader, are, too. If I had to pick, I'd say I identify most with Carrie with some Miranda thrown in for good measure. Which Sex and the City character is dominant in YOU?
(On a side note, of the four shows mentioned above I most closely resemble Karen from Will and Grace. Well, less the drugs and plus a few stray brain cells. Sigh!)
Don't forget! Simon is making some US appearances this week: Letterman tomorrow night, and Regis & Kelly and Conan on Wednesday. Have a great evening, everyone!
Juliet
:: happy hour begins at 8:38 PM [+] ::
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That Stupid, Stupid Book
Amazon.ca order: CANCELLED by vendor
Amazon.co.uk order: Placed today
:: happy hour begins at 6:40 PM [+] ::
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Another Saturday Career Crisis:: Friday, June 20, 2003 ::
You see, this is why I didn't just up and decide to go to law school after last weekend's discussion.
Now I want to be a paleoanthropologist.
Okay, to be fair I've wanted both for a long time. But how does one reconcile the desire to work in legislative affairs with a passion for australopithecines?
Lost you? Sorry - paleoanthropology is basically the study of human evolution (aka anthrogenesis). I mean, australopithecines just kinda hung out for about a million and a half years, then suddenly morphed into something else. Um, why? Why did we become bipedal? Which came first, bipedalism or our "big brains"? Did one cause the other? How? Fascinating stuff!
Not that a career in that field doesn't have its drawbacks. Remember the $100k bill from Georgetown that I'd never pay off? Try having that $100k bill and being stuck in a tent in Africa for a few years.
Then remember who you're talking to.
Yes, I'm probably best left to my armchair paleostudies. I might go so far as to get a subscription to the Journal of Human Evolution or something, but a few hundred dollars isn't much compared to quitting my job, going back to school for some undetermined length of time (liberal arts grad students get stuck for a really long time because they're cheap labor) and ending up without indoor plumbing, or indeed, indoor anything. Oh, plus the spiders.
I suddenly have an overwhelming desire to take a shower.
Tune in next week for "Why I Want to Be a Screenwriter and Ten Reasons I'll Never Actually Do It." Cheers!
Juliet
:: happy hour begins at 3:40 PM [+] ::
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Juliet's Day Off...:: Thursday, June 19, 2003 ::
...has pretty much consisted of sleeping until ten (YAY!), half-watching Enough while loitering around the computer in my pajamas, and thinking about scandals.
Don't bother with that movie, by the way.
My favorite West Wing fanfiction is Josh/Donna romance (of course), and one major point of consideration is always the problem of the White House Deputy Chief of Staff sleeping with his assistant. People write entire novellas about the political nightmare that would cause, and I suppose it could happen that way.
Except, I don't think I'd really care all that much. If Josh Bolten (the REAL former DCOS; he now heads up the Office of Management and Budget) were single and his assistant were also single, I don't think I would care if they decided to date. Call me crazy.
Except it's not so crazy when you consider it's tough to get ANY biographical information about Bolten. And why are we talking about the former guy, anyway? Well, because I'm not sure who the new DCOS is. I don't know if they've even filled the position. The press doesn't even care who's in the chair, much less what he or she does with any scant free time.
So, using "potential scandal" as a reason for Josh and Donna NOT to get together seems pretty far-fetched to me, but it makes for some damn fine storytelling. There's nothing like a good external conflict for sexually charging a relationship long unrequited. Anyway, who am I to argue? According to me Simon is from Schenectady, NY, the sexy accent is an affectation and he has a soul-deep preference for petite, redheaded women.
I love fiction.
Juliet
:: happy hour begins at 5:24 PM [+] ::
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Great Minds
It's so rare to find a single statement that winds up a blogging week as nicely as this one does. Seen at lowbrow.com:
Jerks, in Britain, are more commonly called "berks", as in "He's a proper berk!"
The word is even used in polite society since it doesn't have the same obvious derivation that "jerk" does.
Very few people know that "berk" is actually rhyming slang, so it's derivation is hidden, just like calling breasts "bristols" hides the full expression "Bristol City - tittie."
In the case of "berk", the actual expression starts: Berkshire Hunt - ...
Yes, lowbrow.com. I may be high maintenance but I can still appreciate a good ass joke. Berks, too.
J
:: happy hour begins at 8:30 PM [+] ::
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Huh and Four:: Wednesday, June 18, 2003 ::
Hey gang! I am furiously trying to plow through this workday so I can have tomorrow OFF! I haven't taken a full day off yet this year, and it's about damn time!
So I've been thinking about Simon being superstitious and came to a startling realization: I'm not. Boy, I used to be, but now? Not so much.
I routinely delete chain emails and walk under ladders if it's the fastest way through. I forgot we had Friday the 13th last week except when reminded, think black cats are a lesson in coolness and the only reason I worry about broken mirrors is that, given the opportunity, I will always find a way to hurt myself. (There was also this horror movie I saw at a slumber party once that involved a possessed mirror and a lot of people getting hacked up by random sharp instruments, including bits of broken mirror (in the eye - shudder), but that's something else altogether.)
I couldn't really tell you when I stopped paying attention to these things. There are other rituals I'll perform, like blessing someone when they sneeze, but it's not the same. I don't think anyone will die or be cursed if I don't say it. (I love the lore behind that, though; in some populations it is believed that your soul can escape from your body through a sneeze, and blessing the sneezer scares it back in and the demons away. The practice can also be attributed to the fact that your heart supposedly stops when you sneeze, so you're effectively dead for a moment. God, you're still reading this?)
Well, Simon, let's be logical about this. The number 13 scares you. You don't even like it when numbers add up to 13. So if you're already doing math why not just add the one and the three to make four? Four is a perfectly harmless little number; even (so there's nothing left over) and small (so as not to be overwhelming). It just sits there on the page, begging you to love it. Don't you want to love the four? It'll feel left out if you don't.
See? I knew you'd feel better. You and Four just run along now, dear. All is right in the world.
Pardon me while I solve the Israel-Palestine problem.
Love,
Juliet
:: happy hour begins at 12:58 PM [+] ::
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Parvo, Hoover and Cunts
What else is there to say?
J
:: happy hour begins at 8:41 PM [+] ::
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View From Under My Desk
Looks like... Well, sorta like Simon, since his image has been BURNED INTO MY RETINAS FOR ALL TIME after that People mag pic! Oh girls, this is the BEST DAY! (Even if I do have to tiptoe around the stupid managementesque people. Grrr...)
I had a heads up about the article, actually; my boss came in this morning after seeing the segment on Today. He said they were talking about the fact that Simon likes spoiled women, and he thought, that's Juliet exactly! Hell yeah it is! We were meant to be! SWOON!
It didn't occur to me until much later that having people think of me as high-maintenance isn't supposed to be a good thing. Isn't the trend now toward ultra-low maintenance hippie freaks who don't expect men to call them the morning after? Wow; according to Cosmo I'm terribly out of fashion! Maybe I need to reconsider this... But then I remember: those women have to carry their own shopping bags to the car, spend their hard-earned money on Miller Light they aren't going to drink and kill the spiders themselves.
That's just stupid. Fuck 'em.
Love you, Simon!
Juliet
:: happy hour begins at 1:30 PM [+] ::
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On Her Best Behavior:: Tuesday, June 17, 2003 ::
Good morning! Pleasantries over, I'm tired, cranky, it's raining and my sexy hair looks like I just rolled out of bed and fell in a lake. Great on supermodels, stupid at work. Let's get the show on the road.
I am officially on my best behavior today. There's a conference room full of suits just across from my office, and I have been warned. "Look nice, be quiet and nobody gets hurt."
Somebody's gonna get hurt. I just know it. I have an overwhelming urge to:
1. Run through the halls screaming, "The Redcoats are coming!"
2. Throw M&Ms at the conference room window and tell them it's hailing - inside.
3. Staple things to my corkboard. Naw-ty things.
4. Start a round of Duck-Duck-Goose.
5. Line my voodoo dolls up against the window and chant. (Oh, like you don't have voodoo dolls, too. Gimme a break.)
I don't know who these people are or what they want, but apparently their money is tied to my perfect princess-ness. Unfortunately for management I ordered my tiara from Doris Day, Inc. It has powers Emily Post never dreamed of, and I'm starting to feel creative...
Have a great day, everyone!
Princess Juliet
:: happy hour begins at 8:27 AM [+] ::
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Martha's New Cell:: Monday, June 16, 2003 ::
Thanks to Chef Clary my office now has a name! WOOHOO!! It is also still grey and seriously lacking in the artwork department, but I'm working on it. Keep your pants on.
This whole changing colors thing reminds me of something my friend the cheapskate did a few years ago. He owns several apartment buildings so he's always in need of supplies. One day the local hardware store had a sale on Battleship Grey paint. BING! The lightbulb went on! He decided to paint the exteriors of all his buildings Battleship Grey, but the 5-gallon buckets were not on sale.
So he bought NINETY-NINE one-gallon buckets of Battleship Grey paint.
Ah, one day they really will lock me in here, and my little friends too. Sigh.
So according to my new best friend Trisha from Random House of Canada, their involvement with The X-Factor was cancelled by the UK publisher. She didn't know why, but she'll try to find out when her compatriot comes back from vacation next week. I will most definitely keep you posted!
Have a great day, everyone!
Juliet
:: happy hour begins at 1:22 PM [+] ::
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Help Wanted:: Sunday, June 15, 2003 ::
Stupid Regis cheaters. Fucking Armani sweater.
HEY SIMON! HELP ME! Do you know how many crazy-assed fans you have running around, pretending to be you online for a little attention? I swear, there must be three new ones a week, either on message or tag boards, IMing kids or emailing me. GAH! We've been fending them off fine so far, but it's getting rather tiresome coming up with new traps to lay.
So here's the thing: you email me from WORK (so I know it's you or someone representing you) and give me a code word. Whenever the loonies show up I'll grill their lovesick asses and send them screaming from the world wide web. If I play this right, obnoxious children the world over will fear me.
And you know how I would loooove that.
Hugs!
Juliet
:: happy hour begins at 9:17 PM [+] ::
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THIS IS NOT ACCEPTABLE
So, how many of you tried to get Simon Cowell's book, The X-Factor? And how many of you actually have a copy?
I regret to inform you that Amazon has cancelled my order because their sources do not have it in their inventories. Mind you, Amazon didn't even release it for sale until the end of last month, and that was in fucking paperback!
This is just plain unacceptable. The fact that Simon's biggest fan (okay, perhaps not biggest but certainly MOST VOCAL) cannot get her hands on the damned thing is extraordinarily bad.
BAD!
I am not amused...
Juliet
:: happy hour begins at 9:01 PM [+] ::
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Hey Lola! It's the 20th!
Thus continues Blogfest 2003. I knew once the dam broke y'all would be hosed. Sorry.
So anyway, my sister and I can never remember the date of our parents' wedding anniversary. Before you think us horrible daughters, there is a reason for this: one sunny Father's Day screwed us for all time.
As little girls we had a hard enough time remembering to brush our hair, much less a date on the calendar. So every year we asked, when is your anniversary? One year the answer was, "Father's Day". Aha! Something with Hallmark commercials to remind us!
The next year: Father's Day! It's on Father's Day! You see, we failed to realize that 365 days a year did not allow for a particular Sunday to fall on the same date every year. (And yet, my math SAT scores were higher than verbal. Go figure.) So forever more, Lola and I struggled to remember if this most hallowed anniversary occurred on June 20th, or June 21st.
Somewhere in our teens inspiration struck: we need a reminder! So, in a fit of pure genius, we had the date engraved on a gold platter that also served as their gift that year. AHA!
Well, genius is apparently short-lived in our family, for Lola and I now live over 600 miles away from the piano on which the permanent date reminder is displayed. Fuck.
So Lola, I just asked Dad, and it's the 20th. Write it down somewhere, or next time you're home just take a picture of the platter and we'll put it up in our respective kitchens. That's all I can think to do at this point.
Hugs,
Juliet
:: happy hour begins at 2:58 PM [+] ::
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Hail
So Mr. Speaks has on NASCAR behind me (oh, the HORROR!) and out of my fanfic reverie I hear the fight song for the University of Michigan. Being a Big Ten girl myself, I, of course, join in with the anti-fight song:
Hail to the motherfuckers
Hail to the big cocksuckers
Hail, Hail to Michigan
The cess pool of the world.
There's more, but I think you get the point. Ah, the glory days of college...
J
PS - Mr. Speaks went to Ball State University, whose fight song is comprised of the words "Ball State Ball State Ball State" over and over again. Perhaps all Americans aren't clever risk takers after all.
:: happy hour begins at 1:18 PM [+] ::
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An Ocean Between Us:: Saturday, June 14, 2003 ::
Hey kids! You'll all be happy to know that I've traded Britney Spears for Donna Summer, which to some of you will not be an improvement. To me, however, it's like being reborn. Ahhhh!
So something Simon Fuller said in a print interview last week caught my attention. The Guardian quotes him as saying about Kelly Clarkson, "But she has an outstanding voice, and she has a personality - relative to most Americans." Oh, Fuller, you idiot.
The little quip launched a distinctly anti-British discussion in my house that wound its way through everything from the general attractiveness of a country's people to Saturday morning cartoons. How is it that the people of our "Mother Country" are so damn different from us? Red and grey squirrels separated by a pond don't differentiate their genes this much in such a short amount of time. What happened?
To quote Mr. Speaks, "They sent their criminals, aka their clever risk takers, to the US." (I like that clever part.) We also imported people from all over the world, while the UK remained a relatively closed society, meaning we added more clever risk takers to our gene pool after we got here. Remember all those royal inbreeding sessions from your British History textbooks? Yeah. Americans didn't do that (except in West Virginia, Kentucky and probably Utah).
The result is that while American children of my generation were watching "Super Friends: The Justice League of America" and learning the ins and outs of kicking ass with imaginary weapons, our British counterparts were watching Benny Hill and looking up the word "dentist" in the dictionary. They're happy with that and proud of their country, so this can't really be called a slam on the Queen's people. I'm just glad I'm not one of them.
So, Mr. Fuller, if you don't think Americans have much in the way of a personality (really I think you just don't get it) you are more than welcome to stay in the UK. Notice that I'm not jumping to move across the Atlantic and join your dreary, rain-soaked ranks.
Besides, all you have to feed me is beans and toast. Two words: WET BREAD.
Kisses,
Juliet
:: happy hour begins at 12:28 PM [+] ::
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Seriously Disturbed:: Friday, June 13, 2003 ::
Hey Blogger - WHAT DID YOU DO? Damn, I get in here and they've completely changed my interface. I DON'T LIKE IT! I don't like change of any sort. DON'T LIKE CHANGE!
And here I had all this stuff I was going to blog about. POOF! Gone.
This whole day has been disturbing, on so many levels. Let's just start by saying I'm listening to Britney Spears again and ALMOST put Doris Day in. For the record, I am not now, nor have I ever been, medicated for these issues, but I'm betting all my analytical readers are thinking that might be a good idea at this point. You might be right.
Jump to my West Wing fanfic reading and my new, undying love for Josh Lyman. I used to say Bradley Whitford and that's partly true, but mostly it's about Josh. If you've never seen the show, Josh is the Deputy Chief of Staff to President Bartlett, and a master of political strategy. He also has some damn fine dimples and a killer butt. That, however, is beside the point.
I realized today that I don't want to be WITH Josh Lyman; I want to BE Josh Lyman. (Okay, I want both, but whatever.) I always shied away from poli sci in school for reasons better left unexplored for today, but the subject fascinates me nonetheless. I thought about going to law school when I was younger but chose another path - definitely a good decision. But now I'm wondering; what if I went back now for constitutional law?
I'll tell you what: I'd get a $100k degree from Georgetown University and go work in the public sector, thereby assuring that I would never, ever get that student loan paid off. HA! And anyway, I DON'T LIKE CHANGE. I know I said that before, but it bears repeating.
So I'll go on as I do now, poring over legislation and searching for a local candidate worth pitting against Doris Day's right hand man, US Congressman Roscoe Bartlett (R) from Maryland's 6th District. I hate that guy.
Come here, Joshy; Simon is out of the country. He won't notice if I sneak you in through the back door. I'll even let you keep the tie on if you promise to loosen it and roll up your sleeves. Mmmhhh, just the way I like it...
Juliet
PS - I like the new Spell Checker, Blogger. At least you got one thing right...
:: happy hour begins at 2:58 PM [+] ::
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Friday, Friday:: Thursday, June 12, 2003 ::
Hey everyone! Happy Friday night! I hope you're all out celebrating the miracle that is the weekend. Sigh!
Today should have sucked, but actually got off to a damn fine start! You see, I only slept a couple of hours last night (there was caffeine and garden-variety insomnia going on there) so when the alarm went off I hit snooze. Like, a whole bunch of times. Then, in a fit of screaming I realized I was going to be late! Ran through the routine in a fraction of my normal time and made it to 7-Eleven for a muffin with plenty of time to spare. That's when the day got good: not only did I get my happy blueberry muffin and one of those Starbuck's Frappaccino things (which wasn't that great, to be honest) but I ALSO got CARDED for clove cigarellos (not mine, don't ask), a very handsome man helped me reach the muffin in the back AND ANOTHER hottie opened the door for me with grand style and a charming smile! Only one thing can account for all of these happenings in such a short period of time:
MY SEXY HAIR WAS BACK! Too bad my boss is oblivious to fucking EVERYTHING because I might have gotten some mileage out of that. No raise for me... Ah, but my phone hardly rang all morning, email traffic was light and most of what I needed to accomplish this morning happened without incident. The one dark moment occurred around lunchtime when someone new commented on how small my hands are (I must be a freak or something, I don't know), but I am a strong woman! I shall overcome!
Overcome I did; shortly thereafter I left work for a party - same work people, just with beer at the end. Nice, nice, nice. All in all a lovely day!
It's still storming here, which means 75 mph on the highway home probably wasn't such a great idea. It's no running with scissors, but I did have that infernal Exacto knife in my purse. Take that, conventional wisdom!
Have a great night everyone!
Juliet
:: happy hour begins at 7:02 PM [+] ::
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Singing in the Rain:: Wednesday, June 11, 2003 ::
Hey kids! Having a great Thursday anyone? No? Then I'm in good company. ;)
It's storming like crazy outside, and I know my mother would be mortified to learn that I am not only sitting too close to the monitor, but that I have also been on the phone all day. I realize lightening could conceivably strike me through the telephone wires, but I'm going to take my chances. I might even run with scissors later, just for good measure.
I pick the strangest things to rebel over.
All in all I think I was a pretty decent daughter. I only broke curfew twice - once for my boyfriend's car trouble (I'm still sticking to that story, Dad) and once because my friend's idiot date got caught speeding on the way to drop me off, and the cop took FOREVER to write the damned ticket. Yes, I sassed damn near everyone but that's part of my charm as an adult, right? (cough) I also took to fibbing early; I've heard that when I was in kindergarten I told Mrs. Davisson my mother was dying and that's why I should be allowed to go home from school. Apparently I also used to drag my little sister off with me in stores, and when caught by clerks would make up false names for us. I don't know why I did it, except I suppose I was already in training to write fanfic.
So, as HFS says, it's all Simon's fault. The list on that one is long, and includes (but is not limited to) my carpal tunnel syndrome, a rough patch on my ankle from sitting cross-legged on my computer chair, the fact that I don't read offline anymore, the notion that fast food is preferable to anything home-cooked (except box macaroni and cheese, and other things that take less than 15 minutes), and the fact that I am still sitting too close to this monitor in a thunderstorm.
Simon is NOT responsible for me keeping my job. That occurs despite his presence.
Just one last note before I go. Have you seen that NBC has sent a former weapons inspector into Iraq looking for WMDs? Don't they know it's too late? Once Geraldo hit the sand anything resembling a hidden treasure disappeared into the Great Whatever for time everlasting, along with Jimmy Hoffa and everything downed in the Bermuda Triangle. What a waste of energy...
Hugs!
Juliet
:: happy hour begins at 8:04 PM [+] ::
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Not a Mouse in the House
God, Simon, leave me with nothing to talk about, why don't you. Ack! I can't talk about...stuff because my dad reads. I can't talk about work because my boss reads. I can't talk about those wonderful chocolate-covered peanut butter teddy bears because then everyone in the office will know I'm PMSing.
Oops. Ah well, I'm sure they already knew anyway. It's not like I can hide the tiara this week, even in my sexy new hair (which as predicted did not make it to day three).
So I've been writing all this maudlin fanfic lately and I'm not sure why. I did try to get back to my smutfic roots, but when I had to check myself with "where the hell is she going to put her other leg?" I thought I should stop. Yes.
So here I am. What to blog, what to blog...
It was a dark and stormy night
Some people shouldn't wear yellow
Remember my Crest Whitestrips? I do; most of them are still in my medicine cabinet
Fuck, good fuck! Okay, I'll come up with something. Just give me a minute... AHA!
Have you ever noticed how most people who pick their noses in their cars are the same ones who plaster their bumpers with hunting stickers?
No? Well, piss off then. Simon, come home!
Juliet
:: happy hour begins at 9:01 PM [+] ::
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See, This is Why I Don't Take Naps:: Tuesday, June 10, 2003 ::
Twenty minutes at 7pm and now I'm up for the night. Rats.
Here's a question: Who are all you people doing google, aol and other searchs for me? Fully ten percent of my site hits are from people searching on "The World According to Juliet" or "Julietspeaks". WHO ARE YOU? LOL This is like when I get unknown name, unknown number calls that turn out to be hang-ups, and I just know it's the government checking up on me.
Ah, midnight paranoia.
K, sorry, back to my aimless internet wandering I go. Hope you all are sleeping well!
J
:: happy hour begins at 12:46 AM [+] ::
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Hair Today...
I just have to share this with you. For the past two weeks I've been out of town, and in the weeks immediately preceding my trip I was so stressed out I usually pulled my hair into a haphazard ponytail before my first cup of coffee was cool enough to drink. This explains why every other person at work who has seen me in the past two days (and there are 250 of us in the building) has a comment like:
"Wow! Your hair is so long!"
"Did you get your hair cut?"
"Are you doing something different with your hair?"
Fortunately these exclamations are frequently followed up with:
"It makes you look so young!"
"I like it; it's sexy. Kinda tousled..."
"Most people look like hell when they grow their hair out. You're so lucky!"
Am I reveling in my newfound celebrity hair status? I am not. Why not?
Because I know there's not a chance in hell I'll get it to look like this three days in a row.
J
:: happy hour begins at 1:14 PM [+] ::
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A Bad Sign:: Monday, June 09, 2003 ::
After my office disaster yesterday I treated myself to a manicure. Unfortunately, in the cool light of morning, my nails are a horrific shade of pink.
Maybe I need to slow down on the accent colors for my office...
J
:: happy hour begins at 8:31 AM [+] ::
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Well Damn.:: Sunday, June 08, 2003 ::
Hey everyone! I really and truly did mean to blog first thing this morning, but instead I found myself plummeting through the rings of hell like Dante on a Slip-N-Slide. I didn't even make it into the door to my office before it started.
Some of you may remember that my office was (yes, was) decorated in a psuedo-French Country sort of theme, with soft colors and fabrics everywhere, the types of things that go well with pretty music sung in Italian. Nothing frilly or over-the-top, just nice.
Well, apparently in my absence my company thought I needed to redecorate! Instead of a warm oatmeal color, my walls are now some institutional grey and NONE of my stuff matches it anymore. WELCOME HOME!!!
Ever a woman of action I immediately began tossing the trappings of my former decor into boxes until I was down to the bare bones: two black chairs (sans slipcovers), one desk, one bookcase and a computer. Sigh. What to do with mental hospital walls and grey-blue carpet? Go contemporary, I suppose. Sigh again. So, I traipsed out to a few stores over a loooong lunch hour (ha, hour) and picked up some black and white items (including a new lamp, new covers for various pieces, new file organizers, etc.) and began the sprucing process.
Oh, and don't forget the two dozen white roses. Those are a MUST!
Things have begun to come together, except the painters didn't bother to hit the back wall so that's still the oatmeal color. They have no plans to return and finish the job, evidently, so I'll be hitting Home Depot this week for a gallon of this cell block-y mess on my own dime (I don't have to like it, but it does need to be FINISHED). I also have a large wall desperately needing artwork; I think my accent colors will be daisy-esque and I may have found the solution at JoAnne Fabrics. However, the project will require the use of an Exacto knife, so pray for me.
Did I even work today? I plead the fifth. I'm really organized now, though. ;)
Hope you all had a better day than I did! Talk to you tomorrow!
Kisses,
Juliet
:: happy hour begins at 9:30 PM [+] ::
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AHA!
NOW my new fic makes sense! Midol, Midol, where the hell are you?
I posted something melancholy (yes, again) over at SSH. It's a songfic, which I hate to do, but this one just kinda snuck up on me. It's barfy (in the code-word sense) but still...
The song is Steep by Lauren Christy; click here to load and listen to it. It's a good-sized file but worth the wait to load it.
Hugs!
Juliet
:: happy hour begins at 6:56 PM [+] ::
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Some Serious Backfireage:: Saturday, June 07, 2003 ::
Yeah, it's 4am and I'm awake. Dammit. To pass the time I've been reading back through my blog (I get nostalgic when I'm overtired) and I have one question:
What the hell kind of name is Jaimsye Haft?
J
:: happy hour begins at 4:03 AM [+] ::
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Good Morning!:: Thursday, June 05, 2003 ::
HA! Well, yeah, it's morning for me. I've pretty much been asleep since 2pm yesterday. Who knew just being in a strange city could be so exhausting?
Here's a funny: I did trip out to Borders this afternoon (still all rumpled from hours of napping; good thing I didn't run into anyone) and while there picked up an interesting reference guide: "British English A to Zed". It's supposed to be a guide to British English, I guess for Americans, but I think the author spent a little too much time "over there" to be of much use to me.
Knickers = Panties
In America knickers would be understood as short for knickerbockers, which is the British term for plus fours, an article of wearing apparel still seen there. Also camiknickers. To get your knickers in a twist is to get all het up about something or to make a muddle of things.
What?
I also can't see Simon using a word like "kipper" because I'd have to bust out laughing, so when I write Simon from now on I think I'm just going to make him sound like an American. Not that I haven't been doing that all along, but I'm finally just declaring this particular problem solved. POOF! Simon is from Schenectady. If anyone has a problem with that, you can... Well, nothing. I just don't care.
So I didn't catch Extra last night but I hear Simon said he misses us and wants to come back! Well, DUH. Where have you been, darling? How many times have I told you that you wouldn't be happy without us? Tsk. Maybe there's an American language translator I can send you so this sort of miscommunication doesn't happen again. Just so much wasted time...
Speaking of wasted time I'm trying to find a free, downloadable countdown clock for a web site I'm building (don't get your hopes up; I'm just trying to learn some things ;)) and not having a lot of luck. I did find one for my desktop so I set it for a project I'm working on for work, just to see how it worked, and it stressed me the hell out. I uninstalled it.
Obviously.
Back to bed I go! I love you all, I'm happy to be back and if I ever try to leave again I want you all to beat me about the head with moderate force until I agree to stay home. Please?
Hugs!
Juliet
:: happy hour begins at 10:06 PM [+] ::
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Over and Out:: Wednesday, June 04, 2003 ::
Hi kids! IT'S FINALLY DONE! My tradeshow closed today, all went well and now I should be packing. (Yes, I'm back to blogging when I should be packing. Naw-ty Juliet! SMACK!) My flight isn't until 9-something tomorrow so I figure I have some time. P.R.O.C.R.A.S.T.I.N.A.T.I.O.N.
I read a comic strip today that pretty much sums me up and I thought I should share. It's from Baby Blues, and a little girl finds a princess ensemble in her toy chest. Her comments: "When I was your age I used to wear this outfit and call myself 'Princess High 'N Mighty-Big-Shot-Told-You-So-Boss-of-The-World'...I would march around giving orders and making you call me 'Your Highness'." Damn straight!
Then of course there was Sally Forth with something else I could totally appreciate. Guess which one is me:
#1 "In one hour I used the computer to e-bank, do some online shopping and quickly review my office email."
#2 "Somehow that puts the three hours I spent trying to get my Sims character to wash his hands in a less than flattering light."
Well, there are the highlights of my day. LOL Oh, except I've noticed before how much Martha Stewart and Hillary Rodham Clinton look alike, but now that other people are seeing it on the front page of every newspaper it somehow cheapens my thrill about it. Sigh.
Oooh, gratuitous cheap thrill moment: VIEW OF SIMON FROM BEHIND AS HE BENDS OVER TO PET A PUPPY. Sharp girlie scream!
Totally manufactured, but beautiful nonetheless. Yum...
I'll leave you on that thought. ;) Kisses!
All done with Atlanta,
Juliet
:: happy hour begins at 8:15 PM [+] ::
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Chinese Water Torture...:: Monday, June 02, 2003 ::
...is listening to the same 30-second loop of a Mod Squad theme techno remake over and over and over... FOR FOUR DAYS. It's like when you lie awake at night singing the Monchichi song from when we were kids but you can only remember a few words: "Monchichi Monchichi, oh so soft and hm hm hmmm...um...Monchichi Monchichi..."
This song is coming into my head like a chopstick through my damn eye, and I am powerless to stop it.
As my colleague just said, "I'm bored out of my freakin' mind." I am also hungover, sleep-deprived and...unable to come up with words for the rest. Let's go with apathetic.
Remember me telling you I'm here with mostly men? Yeah, well, the inevitable finally occurred: we now know whose penis is the largest. Actually, all we know is who was most adamant about his sizeness and who kept quiet, which means the quiet guy is hung like a slug (thanks, B) and the loud one got it shot off in the war. I wonder if they talk about this shit when there aren't any women around, and if so, why?
Nice.
K, sorry, I'll go back to my eye-twitching boredom now. Just thought I'd share...
Hugs!
Juliet
:: happy hour begins at 3:45 PM [+] ::
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Fear and Loathing in Atlanta
Hey y'all! Just a quick note to let you know I'm still alive down here in Georgia. The weather has been beautiful, not that I've seen it from inside the convention center. Pffft.
So I FINALLY had a Simon dream last night, but you're not going to like it. I was in the back of a cab with Simon and he was coming on to me, but he was rebuffed! For some reason I chose my friend who was sitting in the front seat!
We're just going to give that one to the five gin and tonics I drank before bed and the fact that my friend was the last person I saw before turning in. (We broke into the hotel pool so I could dangle my feet in the water and he unscrewed all the decorative lightbulbs around the door. At least I think that's what happened; I may have dreamed that part, too...)
Oh, and I checked my site meter. Which one of you losers was searching google for highlighting tips from Judith Light?
I miss you all so much! I hear Simon has at last fled our fair nation; I wish I could have been here for some moral support. Well, better late than never: HE'S COMING BACK.
Because I said so. Now eat your peas.
Love you all!
Juliet
PS - Don't you love those mental calculations and deals you make with yourself about how much sleep you can get? Let's see... I was going to turn in at 10, but it's 10:39 now and I'm not in bed yet. Well, okay, so if I go to bed at 11 I'll still get 5 3/4 hours of sleep and that's almost six which is more than I usually get so I could probably stay up a little later and return some emails... ;)
:: happy hour begins at 10:43 PM [+] ::
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