Archives for February 2011

favorite scene

Today is the 25th anniversary of the release of Pretty in Pink, my favorite movie. I've written about Pretty in Pink before, the love I've had for it since 1986 and how much I adored and still adore the music of the film. The story is a classic one. The fashions may change, but there will always be a poor girl who loves a popular boy and there will always be a friend who wants to be more than friends.

Also, the Rave-Ups!

In honor of the anniversary, here is my favorite scene from the movie, Duckie's dance.


And one of my favorite songs ever, the Rave-Ups' "Positively Lost Me," which isn't on the soundtrack. 


oh please

So, tonight was softball evaluations for the oldest child and a girl at the concession stand was wearing this.


Cute doesn't win games — excuse me? Have you met me? Cute wins, it just depends on what the game is, honey.

if I’ve told you once I’ve told you a brazillion times


People, this is Mick Jagger. This is why one does not wear a satin suit to the Vanity Fair Oscar party or anywhere else on the planet even if you are a rock icon. Mick. Mick. Mick. What were you thinking? Leave satin to teenage girls at prom.

And we're not going to talk about the shoes.

insert my name here



FYI: this will be my headstone, but with my name and dates. Robert Clay Allison, you are my hero.

From The Daily What.

my lunch

I had this giant raspberry margarita for lunch. It's part of this new liquid diet I'm doing.

my lunch

sunday morning randomness

Here's The Beta Band to listen to while you read. Two minutes and five seconds in comes the change-up, then the guitar and the horn, and you're hooked. I guarantee. 


01 Dry the Rain


It's a fantastic song, isn't it? You don't have to agree with me, but you get bonus points if you do. You'll get an extra five bonus points if you know which movie the song is featured in (besides my not-yet-filmed life story). 

It's High Fidelity. I heart John Cusack.

My movie will have the best soundtrack of any movie ever. And it's going to have a ridiculous title akin to Precious: Based on the Novel "Push" by Sapphire. Maybe Priceless: Based on the Novel "Roundhouse Kick to the Face" by Ruby. I think I just came up with a new drag name — Ruby Grapefruit. I'm starting a novel with a character who is a drag queen named Ruby Grapefruit. 

Is it odd that I think of names for redheaded drag queens all the time? Ginger Snap doesn't count — that's my super-heroine alter ego name. By day I'm an unassuming blogger. Crap. I guess super-heroines aren't supposed to reveal who they are. 

I hate classic rock. And no, I don't consider The Beatles to be classic rock, they're a genre unto themselves. I superhate classic rock. Guess what the hubs was playing yesterday. Go ahead, guess. It also unnerves me to no end when someone who doesn't use playlists puts their iPod in the dock. This is what I call the schizophrenic iPod, because who doesn't want to hear Stevie Wonder, Michael Buble, The Eagles, Bobby Brown, AC/DC, ABBA, Journey, and a Cheech & Chong song within the same half hour? I am a meticulous playlist maker. Really, I could do it professionally. If Playlist Maker is a profession, someone email me. I'm available. 

The hubs was going to drag me to a parade last night. Major groan. Major anxiety. Going to a parade means I'll have to take medication or make beverages to bring with me or both. I'm pretty sure I have Agoraphobia as well as a fear of crowds (I don't know what that's called and I'm not going to look it up because I'll have anxiety over that). Just the thought of going to the parade is giving me heart palpitations. The same thing would happen if someone held a gun to my head and made me go to Walmart. Seriously, not a joke. 

I cut myself making Rotel dip the other day. I could not be less coordinated. This is why I buy pre-chopped vegetables. I'm sure the hubs thinks it's because I don't want to cut them, but really it's because I've come to realize I will injure myself at some point making dinner and I'm just taking the knives out of the equation. 

For lunch I will attempt making a low-fat version of a Paula Deen recipe. My triglycerides went up just watching her make it. 

My hair appointment has now been rescheduled three times. First it was one week ago, then yesterday, then next Wednesday, and now it will be next Thursday. My roots are so confused. 

Charlie Sheen's quote “I’m sorry man, I got magic and I’ve got poetry in my fingertips, you know, most of the time, and this includes naps. I’m an F-18, bro" needs to be on a t-shirt — Charlie Sheen in a top hat with a magic wand with an F-18 behind him. T-shirt people, make this happen.


I can't decide if I should live-blog the Oscars red carpet or not. Can I stomach Seacrest for that long?

My back hurts.

"If there's something inside that you wanna say/Say it out loud it'll be okay." 





the Saturday style: I like sparkly things

I have a thing for putting decorative things in my hair. Once upon a time I would dye my hair wacky colors (black, burgundy, Elmo red), but now I'm more prone to sticking fabric flowers in my hair because those can be taken out and the other moms at the school won't look at me like I'm a crazy person if I show up with crazy hair.

So, tonight I'm perusing Etsy, where I've found quite a few hair thingamabobs, and DUDE. I think I need one of these from Janine Basil

I need the pink bow headband. I need it. I also need the model's eyebrows. Seriously, she has great eyebrows.

a project

A few years ago I was visiting my grandfather in the hometown and he told me he had something he wanted  me to see. When people say things like this it usually scares me. He left the room and came back with a very old photo album, the kind where the pages were made of paper and the photos were glued on. He said he knew I was into scrapbooking and figured I could preserve my great-grandmother's photo album and handed it to me. It was held together with twill ribbon and the pages were disintegrating with each turn. 


I took the album home, put it in a drawer and didn't think about it much. For some reason today I decided to organize my scrap office (my hair appointment was canceled and I had an unplanned two hours) and came across the photo album. The pages were falling out, it smelled of old paper, and was dropping black flecks all over me. The pictures are great. It's really a great treasure to have them, but now I have to do something with this album.

You would think this project would be right up my alley, but I've never worked on any type of preservation before. This will require removing the photos (and contacting someone on the best way to remove them), scanning and editing them, and deciding what to do with them afterward. This is going to be a real project, one I can't think of until I'm finished with next month's ScrapFest. The other hard thing about this is the photos were my great-grandmother's, who passed away in 1998, so I can't exactly ask her who the people in the album are. So, I have inherited an album full of unknown relatives (except for my great-grandparents and my grandfather and his sister). My great-grandfather is easy to spot in pictures because he was 6'7" and skinny. I obviously take after my grandmother's side, that would be Mammaw Patsy.

The picture on the right sits on my desk. It's one of my favorites. The photo album belonged to my great-gandmother in the picture, her name was Katie or Sister Katie when she was at church. We named our second daughter after her. She was strong and stoic and loved Jesus. She sent me two dollars for my birthday every year until she died. Her engagement ring was a giant ruby that I coveted (no, I didn't get it when she passed).  She pronounced my name "K-ree" because she was from Texas. I may have to bring "K-ree" back because it's fun and it kind of suits me, don't you think?

And so, now I have her pictures. I'll be chronicling this project after I start it and I'll share photos as I come across them. For today, here's some of my relatives showing you how one does the beach.

Photo copy



don’t put a bird on it

Everyone knows I hate birds. This clip from Portlandia is a great explanation of one reason to hate them.


How disturbing was that? So scary. Could you imagine if that had been an owl? 

fat people unite!

I love Loni Love.