Tuesday, May 30, 2006


buddy, originally uploaded by starbexxx.

So there we were, in the middle of nowhere, enjoying a fine brunch of farm fresh eggs (just whites for me, please) and this fried yuca-and-garlic dish I made the night before. (Simply slice yuca into sticks, boil for 10 minutes or so, saute 3 cloves of garlic in olive oil and add the recently-boiled yuca sticks to the garlic/oil liquid and saute. Salt and cayenne pepper to taste). And then, all of a sudden, just as we were remarking on the loveliness of the sylvan isolation, a dog suddenly appeared.

Now, there are many other forms of wildlife around the cabin - why, just that morning we'd discovered a scarlet tanager in the trees, and marveled at the luna moth clinging to the door.

There is also a squirrel who likes nibbling at the roof and several small chipmunks. We've also seen deer, and once a flock of turkeys waddled in front of the picture window. I, being the consumate wildlife expert, noted their fanned tails and shrieked, "Peacocks! Peacocks! ... I mean, TURKEYS! TURKEYS!"

But we'd never seen a dog there before.

Now, I don't speak dog, being firmly based in cat. But my boo is a dog fella. We fed the dog some leftover yuca and some egg yolks (just the whites for me, please!) and gave him a bowl of water. He seemed friendly -- a good dog. We reckoned he belonged to the family in the cabin downstream; they lived a short hike away but it was feasible that the dog could have wandered away. But then John checked his tags and called the phone number written there.

It turns out the dog belonged to a guy who lives the next town over. The dog ran away a week ago after getting "spooked" by the wind storm, and the owner was sure he was never going to see his dog again. He told us that everyone was so distraught that even the other dog in the household was "walking around with his nose all bent out of shape."

We told the owner where we were, and eventually he arrived and called when he was just at the bottom of the mountain. We lured the dog into John's car with a veggie hotdog and drove him down to meet his doggy-daddy.

And it was such a happy reunion! The owner was grinning and the other dog jumped out of his car. The dog who found us started scampering with the other dog. The owner called out, "Aren't you happy, Buddy?" I asked what the other dog was named. The man answered, "Buddy. They're all named Buddy."

Of course, that does save time at dinner - you'd just have to call out "Buddy" and all your dogs would arrive for chow.

The man thanked us and offered to buy us a bottle of Schnapps. We insisted there was no need - after all, the dog found us. We hadn't been looking for him.

I couldn't believe that silly looking cockerspaniel/mix dog was lost for a week. A whole week! How did he survive? What was he eating? Because, when he arrived, he wasn't begging for food. But he was all wet and he stunk to high holy heaven, so we'd figured he'd walked up the stream to get to the cabin.

But a whole week? Imagine what that poor dog went through! I bet Buddy is telling Buddy all about his adventures during his wild week in the wilderness. His own personal incredible journey. I bet one night he was sleeping under some roots and he saw a bear walk by and he stayed painfully still until the bear was gone and thought, "Schwoo, that was a close one."

But what was he eating? Was he skulking through people's backyards, and waiting til the people's dogs went inside and then eating the dry food the people left in a dish outside by the backdoor?

Was he rummaging through garbage cans? No, someone would have most certainly shot his butt full of buckshot.

So maybe there was a woman, let's call her Susan, who was a tad on the portly side. And she told all her friends that she was doing Weight Watchers and she'd already lost 8 pounds and she has so much more energy! But even though she likes that she's getting thinner, she has a raging case of PMS and she really needs to eat Twinkies. So she drives to the next town over and buys a two-pack of Twinkies at a gas station. No one noticed her, no one called her out. And she kept the Twinkies beside her on the passenger seat, and she knew she had to eat them before she got home (she couldn't let her husband see her eating Twinkies, now could she?) but she was enjoying the tantalizing torture of resisting the Twinkie temptation. When she was a few blocks from home, she couldn't hold out any longer. She ripped open the Twinkies and shoved one into her mouth, savoring the forbidden sponge cake and non-dairy "creme." But, oh no! Who's pulling up next to her at the intersection? Why, it's nosy neighbor Donna! Susan can't let Donna see her eating Twinkies. Blindly, Susan tosses the other Twinkie, still on its cardboard backing and sheathed in cellophane, out the window. It lands with a slight smoosh in some weeds.

And then maybe Buddy snurfled around and found the Twinkie and ate it! And it gave him the sustenance to survive another day!

I bet Buddy was just floored by Buddy's tale. I just know it.

PS: You Rock My Braneworld

Welcome to the braneworld, tigers.

*Thanks to loyal reader Ian McCarty for the tip.
(Confidential to Ian: I did not, alas, get to enjoy a Ploughman's lunch (with soy cheese - my fave!) on a checked blanket, but I did eat lots of fantastic vegan food whilst taking muscle relaxants for an old injury that went into cruiseazy spasm over the course of the weekend at my boo's cabin).


Warning: the Snakes on a Website takes an awfully long time to load. It's so loady!

And it also sounds suspiciously like "Smack my Bitch Up."

Perhaps there's a remake in the works. Smack my Snakes Up?

Hells to the mofe'ing yeah.

August 18th can't come soon enough.

I couldn't get through the website, though. It was just too annoying-music and too loady for my (admittedly austere) tastes.

Speaking of tastes, I invented a tasty bevvy this weekend! It's called a "Meatball," and it must be pronounced as if said by a charicature of an Italian Chef: "Oh, that's a spicy meatball!"

A meatball consists of
* Tequila
* Margarita mix (the liquid kind, not the powder kind) (do they make powdered Margarita mix? When I was in camp, we always brought powdered Country Time (or the storebrand knock-off) so we could make lemonade in our spray bottles, or else lick our fingers and dip them into the powdered lemonade and then lap up the goodness from our pink-stained fingers. It would be awesome to do the same with powdered margarita mix).
* Mango juice

Mix the ingredients over ice. And then sing the theme song:

Person A: "That margarita looks so exciting!
What do you call that thing?"

Person B: "Oh, it's a spicy meatball-a, meatball!
It's such a fancy drink!

Persons A & B: Yow!

Thursday, May 25, 2006

Yes, Virginia, I Do Read Comments on My Blog

... but I like it better when you're not anonymous. If you really want to find me, hit my myspace or email me (email link is under the "3...2...1... Contact" section on the right.

Wednesday, May 24, 2006

Scorched Hot Tub: I Love This Blog

So I've been reading this blog, called Scorched Hot Tub. I don't know this guy. But I feel like once we meet, we are going to be bestie bests forever.

Tuesday, May 23, 2006

McCo-opting the McPheever and all its McPhans?

If Taylor wins, do you think McDonalds will sign up McPhee and just absorb the readymade fan base into its McPheeding McPhrenzy?

MEDIA ALERT: Bex on MSNBC Tomorrow Morning

That's right -- Wednesday, 5/24, 10:15am (Eastern time. 7:15am for you lot in the Calimafornia) -- I will be on the MSNBC as your favorite pop culture comediator (commentator + comedian), talking about American Idol. Why? Because I am AWESOME.

America, Fight the McPheever

Please, America, vote for the lesser of two evils. Vote for Taylor - not only will he usher in the Yacht Rock Renaissance, but it will also be funny to watch him herk-and-jerk all spastic-stillz for a year.

Also, I know a lot of you are confused about this whole "McPheever" thing. I will help you out:

This is American Idol Wannabe, Katherine McPhee. She is a poor man's Kelly Clarkson.
This is superchildcaretaker, Nanny McPhee. She is a poor man's Mary Poppins.

Monday, May 22, 2006

One More Photo of Awesome

Bex and Joanie, originally uploaded by starbexxx.

So here's one more photo from my big night out with my new friend. Yegads, we actually went to Marquee, where they apparently play music catering to people on the coca-ee-nah: as in, it's twenty seconds of each song. Just enough of the song so people go "WOO!" and throw their hands in the air, and then the song changes just when you start dancing to it. Short attention span disco, I guess. We ended up dancing on the banquettes - just like the Hilton sisters! Just like La Lohan! Ah, the glamourous life...

Friday, May 19, 2006

Worst Brandname Ever

So there's this video-edit software or hardware or something called Canopus.

And, granted, I know that it's the 2nd brightest star in the night sky yada yada yada.

But it seriously makes me think: CAN O' PUS.

And who wants a can o' pus? Yugga.

America's Next Top Superfriend

Yeah, that's right, sucka. That's me, and that's Joanie.

We have the same birthday. And we're awesome.

Wednesday, May 17, 2006

"Dudes and Dudesses"

So Prezy Bush welcomed all these Winter Olympiads by saying, "Welcome dudes and dudesses!"

Because, seriously, when the going gets tough, the tough gets Bill and Ted on your ass.

It makes me really wish someone would melvin him.

I've Joined the Soul Patrol ... because of the Yacht Rock

Yacht Rock. Yacht Rock. Yaaaaaaacht Rooooock. Can't you hear its dulcet, siren tones? Can't you feel it wrap its lacy fingers around your brain and draw you slowly and painlessly into ignorant bliss?

Oooooh, Yacht Rock. As the wiki says, it's highly polished SoCal soft rock, and it's best exemplified by one Michael McDonald.

(note: my former officemate harbors a fierce passion for Michael McDonald. I once called his management to see if I could get him to give us VH1 employees a free show just to get us re-hooked on his smoothness. They never called me back).

Yacht rock ... it represents an easy way of life. A smooth way of life, if you will. With yacht rock, life is smoooooooothe. Easy sailing. Calm waves, just the right hint of breeze. It's music that gently lulls you into a nappy stupor. It's just what you need when the world is too much with us - just a hint of the yacht rock, and you're sailing away into a peaceful, blissful apathetic coma. Aaaah. Can't you feel your neck muscles un-knotting? Are your eyebrows finally de-furrowing? Yes, yes, slip deeper into the healing waters of the yacht rock. Yes, that's it - just like that. Aaaaah. Calgon, take me away.

And, so, America - I urge you. Vote not for the McPheever -- personally, I have long since been vaccinated and my blood produces the right antibodies so I have resisted the virus thus far. Vote, instead, for Michael McDonald Jr. Vote for the man who, as America's next top Idol, will usher us back into the era of a smooooth SoCal sound. Vote for Taylor Hicks. Ladies and gentlemen, I have seen the future and it is not pretty. Let's at least have some placating neo-yacht rock to soften the blow. Join the Soul Patrol. Viva the Yacht Rock 2.0

Na Na Na Na Na - Wanna Be On Top

So tonight is the finale of Cycle 6 of MODEL, my all-time fave rave show in the whole-iest whole whole whole world. We're very excited. So excited, in fact, that I have decided to share with you our particular Top Model ritual.

When the show starts, we have to get off the couch and shoo the cats out of the way and do the special Top Model dance. It basically requires shaking one's booty to the theme song for the entire duration of the open, and ending the whole dance-off with the fiercest vogue-y poses you can imagine. You know you're doing it right when you dance so strenuously (modeling isn't easy, bitches!) that you're almost out of breath by the end of the posing section.

For the truly brave, here is the advanced option:

Rich, he of Fourfour, the most delicious Top Model blog of all time, suggests replacing the "na na's" with the word "model." You can hear his version right here. It totally works.

Monday, May 15, 2006

Caution: Chain Gang

So whenever I used to drive to college, I'd pass all these signs on the side of the road. We didn't have these signs in New Jersey (we didn't have a lot of things in New Jersey, such as the ability to pump our own gas, the fast-food/smoothie chain called "Sonic," and fresh air), so I thought the road signs were native to Connecticut.

I also thought they meant "Caution: Chain Gang."

Also, I had a dream two nights ago that Taylor Hicks is the one who gets kicked off American Idol this week. Not that I have a tendency towards psychic dreams, I'm just sayin'.

Tuesday, May 09, 2006

Rappers Delight Club

I am in lurf with these little children who rap.

In particular, I like "Ladies First Anthem," in which little girls rap about chick power over the Sufjan.

Whilst speaking of songs I like, please do also visit my friend Adira Amram's site and right-click-save-as her infectious soon-to-be-hit-single, "Wanna Make Out."

Monday, May 08, 2006

Let Us Now Pause to Praise the Astronomers

kepler brahe, originally uploaded by starbexxx.

Please. Let us thank Tycho Brahe, he of the prosthetic nose. And let us also thank Johannes Kepler,, he of the laws of planetary motion.


Total genius -- Battlestar Galatica characters as Simpsons.

Big 'em up to Jim for the hook up.

Thursday, May 04, 2006

May Day!

Were I a unicorn, this is where I would frolic on the first of May. Also, if I were in Prague. Which I was. But, alas, I am not a unicorn. Although I do have a large bump on my head that is either the beginnings of a unicorn, an embryonic remnant of a twin, or an eggsac full of insectoid aliens who are going to burst out someday and conque the world.

Wednesday, May 03, 2006

School Year Absurd

school year absurd, originally uploaded by starbexxx.

Bless someone's soul - I don't know who graffiti'ed this, but I think it's brilliant. I snapped this photo walking down the hill from the castle in Prague. "School Year Absurd" is the exact sort of phrase that tickles my fancy (and pushes all my buttons, if you catch my drift.) Yes, it turns me on, that's exactly what I'm saying.

Tom googled it and found this guy's blog and almost the exact same picture.

So, what does it mean? Who is responsible for this street-art act of wonder? SPREAD THE MEME, is all I can say. SPREAD IT, LIKE YOU'D SPREAD TOFU SCALLION CREAM CHEESE ALL OVER A FRESHLY TOASTED SESAME BAGEL. By which I mean: "slather."

Yet Another Park is Penguin-Free!

Well done, foot soldier Joey, very very well done. As well done as a tofu pup that's been burnt to a crisp, which is exactly the way I like to eat 'em. Because I don't eat anything squishy. Nothing but firm, solid, hard things go into this here mouth of mine.