tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-279921742024-03-07T19:23:46.678+00:00Alligators on a Party BargeBecause we keep making too much noise playing Whac-a-Mole.Bailey, yohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05361601169167254642noreply@blogger.comBlogger122125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27992174.post-49769500630936471772007-06-29T19:25:00.000+00:002007-06-29T19:30:10.636+00:00What he said"What's 'normal' for Beverly Hills is not 'normal' for the rest of the world. What's 'normal' in Beverly Hills is more like 'batshit fucking insane' to the rest of the world."<br /><br />-- Mr. Bailey, yo's response when I sent him a link to <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2007/06/28/fashion/28skin.html?pagewanted=1&ei=5088&en=d923942ab242b04c&ex=1340683200&partner=rssnyt&emc=rss">this article</a> and a note moaning about what counts as a normal female beauty regime these days.<div class="blogger-post-footer">What, too lazy to bookmark AOAPB? Yeah, me too.</div>Bailey, yohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05361601169167254642noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27992174.post-28000954819107800242007-05-30T13:44:00.000+00:002007-05-30T13:48:54.939+00:00Also, "bitch set me up"<p class="MsoNormal">How is it possible that the New York Times actually believes it’s stumbled on something new and earth-shattering with <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2007/05/27/fashion/27peter.html?ex=1337918400&en=7b42895a51af7ae3&ei=5088&partner=rssnyt&emc=rss">“The Devil Wears Prada” reason</a> that horrible people working with other horrible people in a horrible place (the so-called fashion industry) want to kill each other?</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p><a href="http://www.grupthink.com/topic/914">“He needed killin’” </a>has been considered a plausible defense in <st1:state st="on"><st1:place st="on">Texas</st1:place></st1:state> for centuries.</p><div class="blogger-post-footer">What, too lazy to bookmark AOAPB? Yeah, me too.</div>Bailey, yohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05361601169167254642noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27992174.post-14097576680375916732007-05-29T15:21:00.000+00:002007-05-29T15:45:02.957+00:00Department Store of HorrorsMemorial Day weekend, and I decided to fullfill my duties as an American by indulging in a long trip to Consumertown, a.k.a. Tyson's Galleria. <br /><br />Nearing the end of the five-hour spending fest, I entered a dressing room at one of the shopping center's anchor stores—the one with the ampersand in the center of the name—and proceeded to try on an item of clothing. Horrific horrors ensued whilst looking in the two-way mirror. "Holy crap, do I look like that? How are small children not nightmared by me?" were actual thoughts had. <br /><br />The combination of an ultra-skinny mirror and a pallid greenish glow from the overhead fluorescent lighting created a <a href="http://www.drugfree.org/Portal/DrugIssue/MethResources/faces/index.html"> faces of meth-like appearance</a>, which was not at all how I generally picture myself, considering I've never regarded mixing Sudafed and Drano as a good way to stay up for 72 hours. Said mirror instantly dropped 20 pounds off my person, which I thought would be a welcome development, but viewing this result really made me want a sandwich. Or six sandwiches and a cheeseburger. It. Was. Awful. The lighting highlighted all the redness in my skin, every mole. And somehow the mirrors also screwed with my posture, making me both a hunchback, adorned with some ba donka donk. <br /><br />Don't know how it happened, don't care. All I know is when I think of what I saw there, I feel an instant urge to hurl. All I can say is stay out of the dressing rooms there.<div class="blogger-post-footer">What, too lazy to bookmark AOAPB? Yeah, me too.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27992174.post-28561324038444079232007-05-01T16:59:00.000+00:002007-05-01T17:03:50.891+00:00Nature is trying to kill me, yo.We’re entering Week 5 of the <span style="font-weight: bold;">Bailey, yo Allergy Death Watch</span> here at AOAPB, where Nature tries to kill me with her wicked trees, flowers, flowering trees, grass, mold, mites, dander, dust, ozone, radio waves, clouds, and life in general.<br /><br />Nature is pissed because I screamed at her a little a couple of months ago, when she startled me by landing on the terrace by my office window in the form of three raptors with red eyes. Nature-in-the-form-of-predatory-birds then proceeded to bludgeon their brunch-in-the-form-of-a-smaller-bird against the terrace railing, causing me to shriek in a most loud and girl-y fashion, that “Nature is outside! Nature is outside killing! Killing its lunch! Nature! Nature!” and frantically try to close the blinds to shield me from the horror.<br /><br />See, I had no desire to interrupt Nature while she was dining. It’s just her table manners are disgusting.<br /><br />At last tally, Nature has sent me to the doctor four times, for a total of six prescriptions. The currently approved morning cocktail now includes:<br /><ul><li>1 shot Nasacort to protect the nasal passages</li><li>1 Zyrtek in desperate attempt to shield my body from invaders</li><li>2 Sudafed to relieve the pressure in my ears, which haven’t popped in four weeks. Also to help drain the ick from the sinuses.</li><li>2 Robitussin Cough Tabs to disguise the hacking up of drained ick</li><li>1 multi-vitamin because nothing else is working</li><li>2 prophylactic Excedrin Migraine tablets</li></ul>Also, three courses of antibiotics to clear up the nasty lil infections of ears, tonsils, and sinuses where Nature has managed to penetrate my defenses.<br /><br />This shit’s gotten out of hand, y’all. So I hereby offer my profound apologies to Nature for interrupting her lunchtime repast a few months back. It was my lack of sophistication that led to such a gauche response, and I humbly beg your pardon.<br /><br />Now can we dial back the freaking particulate matter content? You’re killing me here.<div class="blogger-post-footer">What, too lazy to bookmark AOAPB? Yeah, me too.</div>Bailey, yohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05361601169167254642noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27992174.post-31457379466773846992007-04-06T15:29:00.000+00:002007-04-06T15:32:25.965+00:00Old Peeps Actually Taste Better<a href="http://www.peepresearch.org/">Happy Easter, y'all.</a><br /><br />P.S. The <a href="http://www.peepresearch.org/surgery.html">conjoined Peeps surgery</a> is kind of an homage to last night's Grey's Anatomy repeat, if you think about about it.<div class="blogger-post-footer">What, too lazy to bookmark AOAPB? Yeah, me too.</div>Bailey, yohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05361601169167254642noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27992174.post-64164024775732661732007-03-29T14:26:00.000+00:002007-03-29T14:32:59.555+00:00Dear Ruth Marcus: Get Bent<p class="MsoNormal"><a href="http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2007/03/27/AR2007032701720.html">Ruth Marcus opines</a> in that oh-so-insipid way of hers that Elizabeth Edwards should back off campaigning for her husband because she’s got cancer. Incurable, but treatable, won’t-someone-think-of-her-poor-soon-to-be-motherless-children cancer.<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">Scholars and social critics more thoughtful than me can pick apart and mercilessly refute her arguments. Me, all I got is blind fury and a blog.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Many AOAPB readers know that <a href="http://soberandmalignant.blogspot.com/2006/08/sober-and-malignant.html#">my husband has incurable, but treatable cancer</a>. Now you all do.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Ruth points out that there’s a double standard for women and men when it comes to handling illness. Well sure, <a href="http://soberandmalignant.blogspot.com/2007/03/incurable-but-treatable.html">as long as we got women like Ruth to reinforce said double standard</a>.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>Cancer sucks, no doubt about it. Incurable cancer sucks big-time. But the idea that Elizabeth Edwards is going to 1) die with horrible regrets for not spending more time with her children and 2) blithely announced to her children that “Mommy’s cancer is back! Now I’m off to campaign for Daddy!” just feeds horrific old-school stereotypes about cancer and motherhood.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>Reality check: we’re all going to die with horrible regrets. For those of us who are parents, many of those regrets will center around things we did or didn’t do with our kids. But you accept this the minute you become a parent. You can’t let is paralyze you. Because if it isn’t cancer, it’s going to be something else that knocks you off your game.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>It is possible to be a parent, wage-earner, and a cancer patient simultaneously. Only people like Ruth Marcus that think we should pick two out of three.</p><div class="blogger-post-footer">What, too lazy to bookmark AOAPB? Yeah, me too.</div>Bailey, yohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05361601169167254642noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27992174.post-15758958809853591892007-03-12T19:43:00.000+00:002007-03-12T19:50:53.244+00:00I love it when the nurses all call me "Mom"BoyChile and GirlChile had their first appointments with the dentist today. Nothing brings out the crazy quite so much as a first “ANYTHING MEDICAL” appointment with your toddlers. You can guarantee a couple of things:<br /><br />1. You’re going to be late.<br /><br />2. You’re going to need to fill out a metric shitload of forms.<br /><br />3. You’re going to forget some vital piece of information. (SSN, blood type, insurance card, vaccination certification, credit score . . .)<br /><br />4. You’re going to leave the medical establishment worried about something you’d never thought of before.<br /><br />5. You’re going to leave thinking you’re a bad parent because you’d never thought of said thing before.<br /><br />It won’t surprise many readers (hi Mom!) that I’ve been called “somewhat aggressive” when it comes to making my will known. Must be because I . . . you know . . . tell people what I want.<br /><br />But not with doctors. Oh no. That urologist could have told me he was going to take my kidney out with a local anesthetic and a grapefruit spoon, and I would have said, “Hand me that consent form and let’s get cracking!”<br /><br />So my babies are in these big chairs and there’s not enough time (in my mind) to explore the office, or the tools, and the damn Dora the Explorer DVD runs out just about the time the whiny brush starts up, and I’m bouncing back and forth between their chairs, trying to keep a big ole smile on my face because, hey! This is fun! Going to the dentist is fun!<br /><br />When the dentist with BoyChile demands of me, “how did he break his front tooth?”<br /><br />How does any kid break his tooth, I wanted to ask her. They’re generally not trying to bite the cap off a bottle of beer or playing ice hockey.<br /><br />He fell down, I say.<br /><br />The nerve’s exposed, she said We have to take an X-ray right now.<br /><br />Now, in an incredible feat of timing, BoyChile took out his tooth exactly a week ago today. Managed to keep all those teeth in his head until one week before his first freaking dental appointment. But no matter – dentists are here to help us, right?<br /><br />BoyChile was not about to stay still long enough to let anyone stick an oversized coffee filter in his mouth and point a lens at him. X-ray taking thus abandoned, BoyChile thoroughly over the entire dentist-thing, we head back to the chair of doom.<br /><br />Lady Dentist has been replaced by semi-retired Dentist/Owner of practice, and he’s been called over for a consult. He takes off his mask, gets BoyChile calmed down, probes and wiggles things a bit, backs up, send BoyChile off, and talks to me like an adult – i.e, if the nerve actually was exposed, BoyChile probably would have stopped, you know, eating. And would be crying, like, all the time. My faith in the profession of pediatric dentistry is thus restored.<br /><br />So here’s where I surprised even myself. When I went to the counter to pay and make BoyChile’s follow-up appointment, I specifically asked for Dr. Owner to do the follow-up. When told he doesn’t see patients regularly any longer, I said that I would take whomever was most similar to him in personality and patient treatment. No offense to LadyDentist, but I wasn’t comfortable with her and I don’t want her hands in my kid’s mouth again.<br /><br />The moral of the story is this: if we are so goddamned determined to turn healthcare into a business, then patients have a right to act just like customers. It took me 34 years, two kids, and a unilateral nephrectomy to figure that out.<div class="blogger-post-footer">What, too lazy to bookmark AOAPB? Yeah, me too.</div>Bailey, yohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05361601169167254642noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27992174.post-80959334673403420932007-02-28T15:34:00.000+00:002007-02-28T15:49:08.427+00:00Celebratory Gunshots, TooAs I set about planning the celebration of my children’s third natal day, I had a couple of ideas, none of which involved any place named “Zone,” renting animals that require a support staff or permits, or spending money.<p></p> Lucky for me that my kids love running around outdoors and their birthday falls just after Spring’s coming out party. So all I need is a park featuring a wide open field, some balls to kick and toss around, a sheet cake from <a href="http://alligatorsonapartybarge.blogspot.com/2006/07/baking-is-science.html">Rolling Pin</a>, and we’re set.<p></p> I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was going a little too low-end though. Even a slacker mom like me likes a little flash, a spark of cool for the kiddie party. “Kites!” I thought. “It’ll be excellent kite-flying weather! We’ll get some kites for the kids to supplement the ball-kicking fun! What could possibly go wrong with kites?”<br /><br /><a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2007/02/27/world/asia/27briefs-kitefestival.html?_r=1&oref=slogin">What indeed.</a> <p></p><div class="blogger-post-footer">What, too lazy to bookmark AOAPB? Yeah, me too.</div>Bailey, yohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05361601169167254642noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27992174.post-15003552952642500272007-02-19T23:50:00.000+00:002007-02-19T23:52:09.984+00:00Lazy PeopleSuck.<br /><br />That's all.<div class="blogger-post-footer">What, too lazy to bookmark AOAPB? Yeah, me too.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27992174.post-7845779991237697302007-02-14T21:36:00.000+00:002007-02-14T21:54:35.852+00:00Just Because It's a Holiday—A Photo Journey, Part 3<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRp368x_oHuGb68Yuae5A_xlHDOW9Swvf_0rtphCVtjDud93UYoGgJvLHFYL2xysp-o3X5Tf8zCSQhcrT5n6ivP9pHPGnwTqrAAMC7Yzf6R1rIW5_jMAHlVXIFWac1y4fo-n2Uzw/s1600-h/DSC00302.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRp368x_oHuGb68Yuae5A_xlHDOW9Swvf_0rtphCVtjDud93UYoGgJvLHFYL2xysp-o3X5Tf8zCSQhcrT5n6ivP9pHPGnwTqrAAMC7Yzf6R1rIW5_jMAHlVXIFWac1y4fo-n2Uzw/s320/DSC00302.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5031507628853394754" border="0" /></a><br /><br />We're feeling oh so loving here on the barge today, therefore, here's a very special photograph from the beach house to commemorate this occasion.<br /><br />Yes, that is a lamp, with a base in the shape of a clown. A ceramic clown. Yes, it is incredibly shudder-inducing. In fact, I have chills as I write this.<br /><br />What? You want to see a close up?<br /><br />If you insist .... You sure? But it's Valentine's Day and I have to save something for a St. Paddy's surprise. ... Okay. Fine. But don't email me if something goes awry. Like for instance say this clown lamp comes to life, throws its power cord over the bumper of a passing car, hitches a ride over the Bay Bridge, finds your house, and electrocutes you. We're not responsible for that happening.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjrA9Ckr59TdDk0Ne_ppAyMoiBu-78lOvsZouRmRzJGkiuiF_mgbX4XCBWZdBwz2c6xNKKteya28qNHdo19JtcVBXTgPr6Go-ctlauz_BfAptTjoW9YwFOgCrwVUVhOeMzzEq_YA/s1600-h/DSC00304.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjrA9Ckr59TdDk0Ne_ppAyMoiBu-78lOvsZouRmRzJGkiuiF_mgbX4XCBWZdBwz2c6xNKKteya28qNHdo19JtcVBXTgPr6Go-ctlauz_BfAptTjoW9YwFOgCrwVUVhOeMzzEq_YA/s320/DSC00304.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5031508487846853970" border="0" /></a><br /><br />So Enjoy! Happy Valentine's Day.<div class="blogger-post-footer">What, too lazy to bookmark AOAPB? Yeah, me too.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27992174.post-55530380088408074252007-02-13T13:41:00.000+00:002007-02-09T16:16:56.177+00:00Return to Summer—Photo Journey, Part 2If you've read the previous post, you'll know that a summery week was spent at the beach, in a vacation rental adorned with quite an assortment of decorating styles. Here, we'll discuss the one-dimensional/three-dimensional ratio to prints and paintings.<br /><br />After spending some time in the house, one friend finally had an epiphany about the on-the-wall decor. It seems that whoever had hung the photos seemed to have a desire to link each one-dimensional image with a 3D representation. First example:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5H8OfMYYOP3lWYR6PDYE-sGO4uU-n7aOMFxm5ml-HLKOF1Psyv8x9yWHPmBr3OLVt0mKy-8imJOQAc2bfsFiKjlpbk_t2sAQV4cqukv7Ed_8A6fZoYEZfr2AROzo5k8Vt2s__gg/s1600-h/DSC00278.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5H8OfMYYOP3lWYR6PDYE-sGO4uU-n7aOMFxm5ml-HLKOF1Psyv8x9yWHPmBr3OLVt0mKy-8imJOQAc2bfsFiKjlpbk_t2sAQV4cqukv7Ed_8A6fZoYEZfr2AROzo5k8Vt2s__gg/s320/DSC00278.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5031015133543496946" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Notice that each print has a corresponding 3D ornament hanging directly above it. Big ol' mandolin has teeny mandolin, tilted printed fiddle has mini fiddle; my particular favority is the tilting of the 3D instrument, replicating the angle of the one dimension version (center).<br /><br />Example No. 2:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxUGuXeRM2fQghOdRsj-bM1B9JYY-tyw0YbwwO3PoC7FzKUe-0K5ghzYkZOWHy4O-3H-D_N0IEInkBaEMoPMstuclyfyFbOLWlOUoqwMpfPlES2RcBQwWrHS5gfJLaKMtkaVLTGg/s1600-h/DSC00282.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxUGuXeRM2fQghOdRsj-bM1B9JYY-tyw0YbwwO3PoC7FzKUe-0K5ghzYkZOWHy4O-3H-D_N0IEInkBaEMoPMstuclyfyFbOLWlOUoqwMpfPlES2RcBQwWrHS5gfJLaKMtkaVLTGg/s320/DSC00282.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5031016860120349970" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Wall birds seem to peer out upon wooden carving of bird.<br /><br />And, Example No. 3 is especially of note, because it shows two instances of this design strategy.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdRoHv9GzNJUKXR88eu7I5sLEUqpXyUBaMdzZvQWYEXu0-w5rODgcKCV00_xfLJIxUY8XKmtvHvQFCVIrpq7siNjVIxgCj_Ragu8A8xQPShazKUqIZX6IiQ84tJ29Sq5sMjs8uJQ/s1600-h/DSC00285.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdRoHv9GzNJUKXR88eu7I5sLEUqpXyUBaMdzZvQWYEXu0-w5rODgcKCV00_xfLJIxUY8XKmtvHvQFCVIrpq7siNjVIxgCj_Ragu8A8xQPShazKUqIZX6IiQ84tJ29Sq5sMjs8uJQ/s320/DSC00285.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5031021627534048562" border="0" /></a><br /><br />On the top, you have the windmill print/wooden windmill statue; on the bottom left you have the ducks-swimming-in-pond tray, while on the counter is the ducks-swimming-in-pond spoonrest. We'll admit it doesn't really fit the criteria, but its close enough, so we're counting it.<br /><br />Surprisingly, these aren't the only occurrences of this style in the house, but you get the idea. I'm so glad that I didn't run into the 3D version <a href="http://alligatorsonapartybarge.blogspot.com/2007/02/remembering-warmer-daysa-photo-journey.html">of the boy</a>, though.<br /><br />More later...<div class="blogger-post-footer">What, too lazy to bookmark AOAPB? Yeah, me too.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27992174.post-70259217070614557912007-02-08T22:12:00.000+00:002007-02-08T22:27:22.708+00:00Remembering the Warmer Days—A Photo Journey, Part 1Yep, it's wicked cold. As a result of the numbing temperatures in the D.C. area, it's time to finally reminisce about the times spent at the beach this summer, and the wacked out decorations that adorned the vacation rental.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUZ_vhBg9OFlA-dIkWFMOFcPqbL9mkGC6P9O9IpNsH_rXjx5gRfhfrs0Cpe_4KKPxBYBSff0ezgZd23-6qn5NuoO9brckxTt4AX293yS0z7iEz4HqPvx_0Ae_GLmdlbOI6d_DA9w/s1600-h/creepyboy1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUZ_vhBg9OFlA-dIkWFMOFcPqbL9mkGC6P9O9IpNsH_rXjx5gRfhfrs0Cpe_4KKPxBYBSff0ezgZd23-6qn5NuoO9brckxTt4AX293yS0z7iEz4HqPvx_0Ae_GLmdlbOI6d_DA9w/s320/creepyboy1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5029531213752794306" border="0" /></a><br /><br />To start, we have this creepy-ass painting from the bathroom. It's hard to explain how unsettling this portrait is, but let's just say that the boy has one of those gazes that follows you. In addition, this lovely is reflected in the mirror, so even when you have your back turned to him, he's there, awatchin'. <br /><br />Now, let's discuss what he's doing with the ball of string there. The kittens are present, so you could assume that it's just something with which they play. However, it's the way the string is being held, almost as if the boy is about to strangle someone or something. Is he going for the defenseless kittens? They certainly look frightened enough. See:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizwfbxLC97Vz__Rh3CV8_Shyr57dgnBB6rUZ3rd5VnXnPyAp6VugUxLT9IPTjBhomI2rrubKY9BhUDgty56ukzUvDxTmbNnd-rQCGEhnsSTw19o0uAtQtRs8PUzcA7GZfJLIBx6g/s1600-h/DSC00275.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 278px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizwfbxLC97Vz__Rh3CV8_Shyr57dgnBB6rUZ3rd5VnXnPyAp6VugUxLT9IPTjBhomI2rrubKY9BhUDgty56ukzUvDxTmbNnd-rQCGEhnsSTw19o0uAtQtRs8PUzcA7GZfJLIBx6g/s320/DSC00275.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5029531729148869858" border="0" /></a><br /><br />The kitten on the left appears positively terrified. He knows what's going to happen to him; he just witnessed his sister kitten meet her maker. <br /><br />This is just one of many disturbing beach house decorations. Check back soon for more. Until then, I'll be haunted by the boy and dreaming of the sunshine at the shore.<div class="blogger-post-footer">What, too lazy to bookmark AOAPB? Yeah, me too.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27992174.post-45482319097705087572007-02-08T18:34:00.000+00:002007-02-05T14:25:06.151+00:00Drinking Your Oats, Seriously?Now, we on the barge have posted about foul-sounding drinks <a href="http://alligatorsonapartybarge.blogspot.com/2006/12/blech.html">before</a>, and we thought that the <a href="http://alligatorsonapartybarge.blogspot.com/2007/01/2007-year-we-bring-rum-back.html">Year of Rum</a> was seriously taking off as a social movement (what with its notoriety gained through Wonkette). It's our intention to bring some sense of decorum and literal taste to all imbibers out there, because we do have some expertise in this area. We all went to college after all. And we do happy hour.<br /><br />All we're asking for is for someone to listen to us. And we thought y'all were.<br /><br />But, we guess not.<br /><br />According to the linked <a href="http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2007/02/06/AR2007020600441.html">WaPost</a> article, it seems that someone out there decided that oatmeal should now be a cocktail. Oatmeal. As in the food that is almost too boring for breakfast; as in the food that really didn't wake me up or prepare me for the day ahead at all; the taste that isn't revved up even with all the maple and brown sugar and bananas and peaches and cream. The I-feel-like-I'm-85-years-old mealy stuff in a bowl. And I can say this with some experience, since I've eaten it every day this week (it does it hit a spot when it's frigid outside).<br /><br />Anyways, we're not objecting to the meal of oats as a food option, but it's just not festive. It's even a great thing for shower gel. It's fine for a facial scrub.<br /><br />But when you look at the picture, does that seem like something that is going to excite you, help shake off the day? It's just rather a snooze, is all we're saying.<div class="blogger-post-footer">What, too lazy to bookmark AOAPB? Yeah, me too.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27992174.post-47194505908175245862007-02-05T14:17:00.000+00:002007-02-05T14:25:06.304+00:00Spite, Now That You've Won the Super Bowl...What are you going to do next? Cause the firing of a bratty former coworker, who left the company for a much higher paying position elsewhere?<br /><br />Seriously y'all. Spite is the true winner of the football game yesterday. Let me explain. Y'see, a certain ex-flame just looooves da bears, so a win by the team would beget true happiness. As much as I hate to say it, the loss brings me such joy. Especially since the certain someone also trashed the poor Seahawks unfair loss in last year's game.<br /><br />Cheers, Spite, I hope to drink again with you soon.<div class="blogger-post-footer">What, too lazy to bookmark AOAPB? Yeah, me too.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27992174.post-49478754324757312512007-02-04T06:53:00.000+00:002007-02-04T07:29:45.447+00:00Barge Runs To Ground in Marco IslandThe party barge missed a turn somewhere on the bayou, and wound up on a sandbar in Marco Island. Bailey-yo's travel curse seems to have followed us to Southwest Florida. One day in town, and we found a way to spur a major electrical fire that debilitated the hotel and disrupted ASAE's Great Ideas Conference.<br /><br />Not a total loss, however:<br /><br />1. Seamus, yo discovered that golf was never intended to be played sober and hereby pledges not to let it happen again.<br /><br />2. Russdog discovered that ordinary foods come alive with a little imagination (see Lamb Stew Pub Review).<br /><br />3. Bailey-yo and Britney-yo uncovered an alter ego for the Russdog (see his new blog, Pappy Opines, at pappyopines.blogspot.com).<div class="blogger-post-footer">What, too lazy to bookmark AOAPB? Yeah, me too.</div>Rob Colganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17067305445834005114noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27992174.post-71032013202399758332007-01-28T22:23:00.000+00:002007-01-29T02:08:11.115+00:00Whether Heaven or Hell, You're Going Through ATLDear SuperShuttle:<br /><br />If you had not insisted on picking me up at 3:30 a.m. for my 7 a.m. flight today, I would have not learned the following things:<br /><br />1. It only takes 23 minutes to get from my house to DCA when only 38 other cars are on the road.<br /><br />2. No one else actually agrees to let SuperShuttle pick them up at 3:30 a.m. for a 7 a.m. flight on Sunday morning at an airport that's only 23 minutes away. This kind of non-shared ride when you're thinking there's going to be someone to commiserate and eye-roll with is a bit of a let-down.<br /><br />3. The Delta counter at National doesn't actually open until 5 a.m.<br /><br />4. Airport staff frowns on using wheelchairs as ottomans.<br /><br />5. Confirming earlier suspicions, it is impossible to actually sleep anywhere at any time in an airport. (Too-bright lights are the only thing that kept me from trying the bathroom counter.)<br /><br />6. The airport wireless connection will finally pick up just about the time your boarding number is called.<br /><br />7. Airport CNN is what's playing all the time in hell.<div class="blogger-post-footer">What, too lazy to bookmark AOAPB? Yeah, me too.</div>Bailey, yohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05361601169167254642noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27992174.post-11827588363267490522007-01-25T20:44:00.000+00:002007-01-26T14:42:49.205+00:00I Renounce You, Baby Einstein<o:p></o:p><a href="http://www.slate.com/id/2158226/fr/rss/">Slate has got it right.</a><br /><o:p><br /></o:p>Damn, but I dislike <a href="http://www.babyeinstein.com/about/01-03_founder.asp">Julie What’s-Her-Tits</a>. Not just because of those 12 pounds of Texas cornfed hair she was sporting, but because the whole Baby Einstein thing is just one giant racket wherein parents are once again parted with their dollars questing after E-Z ways to raise smart babies. <p class="MsoNormal">I am loathe to wade into the parenting morass because, as y’all know, I don’t know a damn thing about raising children. The fact that I am <span style="font-style: italic;">doing it</span> doesn’t mean I know anything <span style="font-style: italic;">about it</span>. I did not have to present my I.Q. score or bachelor’s degree before taking my babies home from the hospital. Basically, they scanned our collective bar-tag bracelets, patted me on the back, and said, “Good luck with all that!”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>But here I go, and I hope you will be kind in the comments, Gentle (and maybe Angry) Readers:</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p><span style="font-weight: bold;">Baby Einstein doesn’t actually make your kids smarter.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>The jury is still debating on whether or not <a href="http://www.aap.org/pubed/ZZZGF8VOQ7C.htm">it actually harms them</a>.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>But it certainly does not make them smarter.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Neither does listening to Mozart in or out of utero. Neither does eating organic chard and sundried dates while pregnant. Neither do <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Manhattan-Toy-201770-Infant-Stim-Mobile/dp/B00009ZIKH">“stimulating” mobiles</a> strung up over cribs.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>Neither does taking meth, bringe drinking, or base jumping (parents or child).<br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>Only brides-to-be are subjected to more shameless marketing than new parents. We are damn-near flogged with “must-have” gadgets and gizmos. Woe to you hapless mother who doubts the wisdom of the <a href="http://www.toysrus.com/sm-ulitmate-wipes-warmer--pi-2401351.html">wet wipes warmer</a>!</p> <p class="MsoNormal">And now Julie Aint-This-A-Kick-In-The-Crotch is being held up as the very model of a modern Mother General and American entrepreneur. Well, kiss my grits, Julie – you haven’t done jackshit except prey on the fears and ignorance of parents trying to do the right thing. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">And it takes courage to stand up and say, <span style="font-weight: bold;">I Will Be a Sucker No Longer! </span><a href="http://www.alissaquart.com/articles/2006/08/extreme_parenting_the_atlantic.html">I Renounce You, Baby Einstein!</a> I renounce you and all that you stand for – the ass-backwards idea that I can manipulate genetics simply by pressing play! The folly of the <a href="http://www.moderndaydad.com/mdd/2006/08/crawling_helmet.html">crawling helmet</a>! You may have got me with Stoneyfield Farms YoBaby Organic Yogurt, but you have played me for the last time, bitch!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEWrgYNI6kMAfOAYDULhb2PYUcKqkZznfEiDMZyOh28S-U5cBMofZG5-s5DA4qu4SGeJ4ojwef8Yv_lxTd-zUwQX4NbztHPzTrg3tbkmxMgKhRxVrxJpEkPB83GRtwLtTNzl8JLQ/s1600-h/crawling_helmet.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEWrgYNI6kMAfOAYDULhb2PYUcKqkZznfEiDMZyOh28S-U5cBMofZG5-s5DA4qu4SGeJ4ojwef8Yv_lxTd-zUwQX4NbztHPzTrg3tbkmxMgKhRxVrxJpEkPB83GRtwLtTNzl8JLQ/s200/crawling_helmet.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5024080175377883618" border="0" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><div class="blogger-post-footer">What, too lazy to bookmark AOAPB? Yeah, me too.</div>Bailey, yohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05361601169167254642noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27992174.post-41594650964462097162007-01-24T18:33:00.000+00:002007-01-24T18:44:23.843+00:00Lucky Stars, Consider Yourself Thanked.John Kerry reportedly has decided NOT to run for president again, joining the 2.2 percent of senators who are currently not in the White House hunt.<br /><br />Our opines are that you get one chance to be the nominee/win, and if you lose, you should kindly go away.<br /><br />For evidence of why we feel this way, see: Nixon, Richard; Wallace, George; All-Stars, Survivor/Big Brother/The Amazing Race<div class="blogger-post-footer">What, too lazy to bookmark AOAPB? Yeah, me too.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27992174.post-11579352902400057312007-01-24T14:01:00.000+00:002007-01-24T14:05:20.234+00:00Is this a joke?So my friend walks into a local D.C. sports bar. She asked the bartender whether the venue would be showing the State of the Union on one of the screens. The bartender, in reply, asked, "Which game?"<br /><br />For reals, yo. I wish it was a joke.<div class="blogger-post-footer">What, too lazy to bookmark AOAPB? Yeah, me too.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27992174.post-35857130684963213432007-01-18T14:23:00.000+00:002007-01-18T14:50:28.873+00:00Brie and PretenseNews that <a href="http://www.allheadlinenews.com/articles/7006151569%20in%201950s">France tried to join the United Kingdom </a>in the 1950s has Anglo- and Francophiles clutching their respective chests. I, however, think this is freaking hilarious.<br /><br />I mean, it never would have worked, but in my mind, it’s an excellent illustration of just how screwed up the so-called Era of Good Feelings was. Some of the greatest hypocrisy in our modern history went on during that decade. Come on . . . a French Socialist went creeping over to England to see what it would take to hitch his country up to an ancient, conservative monarchy hell-bent on colonizing anyone who used spices when cooking. That's not irony. That's, "You're not allowed to tell me about the Good Old Days ever again."<br /><br />Then again, what do I know? Except that this is my favorite new line from a <span style="font-style: italic;">New Yorker</span> story so far:<br /><ol>“To the French mind, Disney represents the arrowhead of American cultural assault, and if America were to return the favor it would need to mount a major retrospective of soft, unpasteurized French cheese at the Metropolitan Museum. (Anthony Lane. Wonderful World: What Walt Disney Made. New Yorker. Dec. 11, 2006) </ol><p></p> A cultural assault by soft, unpasteurized cheese. Now that’s a new world order I could get excited about. <p></p><div class="blogger-post-footer">What, too lazy to bookmark AOAPB? Yeah, me too.</div>Bailey, yohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05361601169167254642noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27992174.post-50548063430446034032007-01-15T14:09:00.000+00:002007-01-15T14:16:48.218+00:00Facts Debunked1. We on the barge have always been convinced that no man can sport the pleated pants with any measure of attractiveness. The What Not to Wearer's out there have proved it time and again, and we completely bought this theory hook and line. So what do I see this morning? A man, with pleats, looking amazing. And, even more shocking, these pleat-bearing pants were Docker-style, not your ordinary old business pants. It's surprising because the former NEVER looks good, and the latter can sometimes be passable, though it doesn't usually venture into the Fashion Do category. What does it all mean y'all? Has the reintroduction of the skinny jean poisoned our thinking?<br /><br />2. Depending on the quantity consumed, sometimes rum does, in fact, result in severe hangoverness. Imbibe with caution in this Year o' Rum.<div class="blogger-post-footer">What, too lazy to bookmark AOAPB? Yeah, me too.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27992174.post-76408041236016665782007-01-12T19:33:00.000+00:002007-01-12T20:14:35.905+00:00Year of Rum Begins TonightCafe Citron, y'all.<br /><br />5 p.m.<br /><br />We'll be the really loud people <a href="http://alligatorsonapartybarge.blogspot.com/2007/01/2007-year-we-bring-rum-back.html">drinking rum</a>.<br /><br />The first official YOR outing would not be possible without the sipping suggestions left by our kind commentors. We'll do our best to make you proud and hopefully, report on the hangover-free results.<br /><br />However, many suggestions were for "sipping" rum, not cocktails. My goal -- nay, mission -- is to find a rum-based mixed drink that:<br />1) isn't some color not found in nature<br />2) doesn't smell like Febreze<br />3) isn't carbonated<br />4) isn't overly garnished.<br /><br />I'd also prefer that it have a name I'm not embarassed to say in front of my 2.5 year old daughter. "Gimme a toe-sucking zombie," is just not something I want to hear coming out of her mouth.<br /><br />I went to the <a href="http://www.boston.com/news/globe/ideas/articles/2003/12/28/looking_for_mr_boston/">Little Red Book</a> for help, but it seemed like every rum concoction in there required egg whites. Is that even sanitary?<div class="blogger-post-footer">What, too lazy to bookmark AOAPB? Yeah, me too.</div>Bailey, yohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05361601169167254642noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27992174.post-67112496577098455932007-01-09T20:58:00.000+00:002007-01-09T21:04:11.435+00:00Season's GreetingsAll the leftover holiday chocolate in the office lunchroom has disappeared.<br /><br />Meanwhile a stack of coupons for week-long memberships at the local Sport & Health are still sitting on the table, untouched.<div class="blogger-post-footer">What, too lazy to bookmark AOAPB? Yeah, me too.</div>Bailey, yohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05361601169167254642noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27992174.post-89616544537597019672007-01-05T19:45:00.000+00:002007-01-05T19:55:08.848+00:00Someone's up for the Best Boss Award!Boss today gave us a surprise: Our own office-based Whac-A-Mole game. We're so very excited! We forsee this being extremely beneficial to our stress levels and overall wellbeing. <br /><br />Unfortunately for us, no one has angered us today, so we haven't gotten to personalize the moles--have them be stand in's for the object of our disdain. Here's to being P.O.'ed next week!<div class="blogger-post-footer">What, too lazy to bookmark AOAPB? Yeah, me too.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27992174.post-30746136234575301042007-01-05T00:37:00.000+00:002007-01-05T13:59:18.147+00:00Life Lessons, Parts 2 and 3 (The Vacation Edition)<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMOreyq_lUNIZVkOapadmj_kCo0EJHMYGF-QH3ozsOAqfiJtHkW4Slmpn__JZ9DPt0LYJt4fzQdIETaP2D-iMfdHwC_nPwKVqMXjeQU7OvqU1xrN4jPAh56QH0Gv-QDyF2UCh4wg/s1600-h/pretty+bathing+cap.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMOreyq_lUNIZVkOapadmj_kCo0EJHMYGF-QH3ozsOAqfiJtHkW4Slmpn__JZ9DPt0LYJt4fzQdIETaP2D-iMfdHwC_nPwKVqMXjeQU7OvqU1xrN4jPAh56QH0Gv-QDyF2UCh4wg/s320/pretty+bathing+cap.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5016343804813384994" border="0" /></a><br />2. <span style="font-style: italic;">Always </span>check yours and your travel companion's luggage tags after hefting them from the belt at the airport, otherwise you'll open your luggage upon arrival at your hotel--after taking a 45 minute cab ride--and find an old lady style bathing cap complete with rubbery flowers, perfectly packed among caftans, all of which are definitely NOT YOURS. And then you have to spend $85, and hitch a ride from another driver who doesn't mind working on a holiday to cart you all the way back to near the airport, just so you can get Mrs. Mortimer Hudson her muu muus back. And realize, Mrs. Hudson really likes taking cruises, so you're really lucky that she wasn't already doing the bunny hop on the Lido Deck, somewhere en route to Bermuda.<br /><br />3. If you are traveling to a foreign country on a holiday, say Christmas Eve, make sure that you'll have available dining options. Even if you've been to a certain resort before, it could be possible that something completely crazy happened. For example, say there was a huge dispute with union workers, causing a major hotel brand to up and abandon ship, followed by said union workers storming the property, smashing slot machines and tearing out electrical wiring.<br /><br />Then you unknowingly arrive, some 6 months later to spend a much needed relaxing and <span onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)" class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">rejuvenating</span> week at an adjoining time share hotel, which has--due to the time share setup-- kitchenettes in each room, not restaurants on the property. And remember that in this fictional "what if" scenario, it's Christmas Eve, meaning in this 85% Catholic nation <span style="font-style: italic;">everything </span>(including stores and restaurants)<span style="font-style: italic;"> </span>will be closed today, and tomorrow, and possibly thereafter. You may soon start to feel like you've been shipwrecked.<br /><br />But then, luckily, you may find out that not everything was abandoned in the hotel next door. There is one restaurant! And one bar serving tropical rum-based cocktails*! The vacay would be saved!<br /><br />So later that night, you would set out, to try the only option available to you. Perhaps it would be a Chinese/Japanese spot called the Zen Garden, which not only serves sushi and General Tso's chicken, but also has a hibachi. But to get to the Z.G., you'll have to wander through the dark, humid hallways of the hotel, with flickering lights and all, feeling like you've been implanted into The Shining. And you won't be grateful when you happen upon the lonely bartender in the aforementioned lounge. You'll just be freaked the freak out.<br /><br /><br />*another reason to support <a href="http://alligatorsonapartybarge.blogspot.com/2007/01/2007-year-we-bring-rum-back.html">the AOAPB Year of Rum</a><div class="blogger-post-footer">What, too lazy to bookmark AOAPB? Yeah, me too.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0