Farmer Mom

I don’t usually double up on posts between unibloggal and my other blog, but this one’s just too good to pass up.

As you all know, Valentines’ Day can be hard for people who aren’t in a serious relationship. As can turning 30, when you see some of your friends getting married and having babies, and you don’t yet feel responsible enough to get a puppy. But all this is made easier for folks like me who have such a caring and supportive mother.

I get home the night of Valentines’ Day, after watching a 3-hour performance of people reading out old unrequited love poems, break up emails, and rejection letters (all of which were hilarious by the way), to find the following email from my mother:

Dear Audrey,

You're going to be thirty soon, a big deal. It sounds pretty young to me now but it didn't then. So I feel like I should give you a big present. But what?

Maybe we should harvest your eggs now and not wait till later. You still have some good years left, of course, but this way there's no pressure. Maybe you won't meet Mr. Right till you're forty, and you wouldn't have to worry about fertility at all. Maybe you're thinking I'm crazy; maybe I am.

Well, it's just a suggestion and I won't be offended if you don't want to do it. What else do you want? See's Candy?

Love,
Mom

HARVEST MY EGGS?!? Because I’m so old and dried up and disgusting that it will be TEN YEARS before a worthy man wants to father my children?

A note to mothers everywhere: this is NOT what your daughter wants to hear on Valentines’ Day, ten days before her thirtieth birthday.

At least mom caveats it with, “You still have some good years left, of course, but this way there's no pressure.” Which I read as: “You still have some good years left...” As in: You’re not completely done for yet, honey. Some desperate man out there might want to have sex with you before your ovaries shrivel up into useless little prunes.

What? You don’t want to undergo a painful surgical procedure to capture what little remains of your fertile youth? How about a nice box of See’s Candy instead? Yes, that’s clearly the next logical choice.

Oh Mom, while I’m completely appalled because I know you meant this is utter seriousness, I’ve also enjoyed many hours of laughter since receiving this email. Thanks, I love you.

i'm not a huge fan...

... of ol' valentine's day. so full of mandatory flowers and ridiculous giant balloons. it's all kind of embarrassing. however, i will tell you what i do love about this day:
IT'S SWEET QUARBY'S BDAY, TOO!!
that's certainly enough to make up for all of the other silly b.s. that ensues on this holiday.

google stock plummets

because someone can't spell google.

Happy Valentine's Day!

According to today's New York Times "Older folks are friskier than ever, and it’s never too late to learn about safe sex." Holla!

This article is amazing, on several levels, but most especially for the priceless quotes:

"As the teacher, Monique Binford, delved into an unexpurgated discussion covering issues from vaginal dryness to Viagra, one student's cane clattered to the floor, another student adjusted his hearing aid and a third fidgeted in her orthopedic shoes."

When talking about condoms:

Bella Cohen, an 89-year-old widow in the front row, scoffed, "Oh yeah, by the thousands." Then, she inquired: "We can only use it if we have intercourse?"

Ms. Binford replied, "We can talk later if you're thinking of other uses."

And finally:

“I came in thinking that sex is the furthest thing from my mind, it’s just not important anymore,” Mrs. Cohen added. “But, you know, we’re not dead. There’s still a chance to learn.”

Ain't that the truth Mrs. Cohen. You go girl!

The ego has landed.... in rehab.

Happy birthday, and happy sobering-up, Robbie!

How could someone this hot have a drug problem? It just doesn’t seem fair. Look at that intense stare. He looks like a man with many demons, doesn't he? Many demons that I'd like to rip the clothes off of and make out with until my mouth hurts.

I met Robbie Williams on the rooftop bar of the downtown LA Standard Hotel once. He touched my left boob. I haven’t washed it since.

on newstands now!

stephanie's favorite magazine:


sactown for the sacfree!
(sorry for talking a lot today)

any bids?

how much do you think this highly authentic chair is worth?

i found it outside of the ladies room at my place of business.

an ode to the motorboat

sometimes howard stern's website (sorry, i'm obsessed) is a great resource for comic relief and also education:



this is a topless artie lang motorboating some sick woman. i love motorboats.

teen beat: only the total opposite of that

this is chyna doll after an appearance on the howard stern show. i am currently facing an onslaught of issues after looking at this for several minutes on end. a few of them are:
1. if you're going to stuff large water balloons into your boob sacks, can't you also lift them up so they don't look like saggy boulders?

2. why does she look like axl rose in like 10 more years?

3. in 10th grade when i worked at judy's in the mall, that microfiber fabric with diamondy buckles was really hot. especially in colors like red wine, forest green and beige. i think she must have shopped at south coast plaza in 1993. barf tastic.

4. her hand is bigger than her whole head.

5. oh, she's just so gross, i can't look anymore.

favorite grammy wtfs?

1. since when is jerry springer the drummer for the police?

2. why is this bitch so lucky? (robyn troup won a chance to sing/dance with justin and ti, two of the hottest dudes EVER).

3. since when is ludacris a total fox?

4. will.i.am's silver blue tooth ear decoration.

(photo to come, i just can't find one anywhere!)

5. chris brown is apparently on par with smokey robinson and lionel richie. i'm not sure how that can be the case considering he didn't sing at all during his performance. but holy crap, that dude can dance. video to come. for now, look at this photo! my uterus hurts.

the video, as promised:

look at those cute little kids! like kitties, i wish they stayed that small forever.

Tragic - in life and death.

I hate to be the one to post this morbid story, but R.I.P. Anna Nicole.

This ain't looking too good for Trim Spa... side effects may include, um, death.

It's always sad when someone dies. Granted, it's not like, Crocodile Hunter sad. But sad none the less.

Noise Pop 2007: Opening Night Party

noise pop '07 is coming up at the end of this month and to kick it off they're having a free party on feb 27th at mezzanine. just put your name on this list and you're good to go. rad.

teen beat tuesday: make me dinner

i love top chef. i am kind of obsessed with it. i still haven't seen the finale of season two and while trying to find a picture of sam the raging babeOthon (slide show here), i found out who won. i'm going to punch someone. if i was a man, i would punch the clown while looking at sam cook. he wears tribal tattoo shirts with cursive douche writing all over them. he also has a headband and a ponytail with sunglasses on his head, but he's fugging hot. he's tall and kind of dresses like bono, but i still like him. he makes delicious treats and almost punched that little fudge named marcel. here's a little image and some more info on this foxy dumb dumb:

Age: 28Hometown: Charlotte, NC; Currently resides in New York City, NY Profession: Executive Chef in New York City Education: Johnson and Wales University

Sam is handsome and charming and is sure to make temperatures rise in the kitchen. After being voted one of the ten sexiest chefs in New York, Sam is ready to be known for his culinary skills and not just his good looks. Born and raised in Charlotte, North Carolina, Sam incorporates his southern charm and love of food into all of his dishes as executive chef in New York City.
This self-described "arrogant" chef likes the finer things in life and has no problem saying he is like a girl when it comes to shopping and grooming himself. Although people will automatically notice his handsome appearance, few know that he has also been a diabetic since he was a teenager and has to wear an insulin pump attached to his leg. Sam forges ahead and is sure to surprise the viewers on this season of "Top Chef."

(i apologize that unibloggal has been so boring lately, we've got jobs, ok?)

Meet Weasel!

I'd like to introduce you all to Weasel, the earless terrier. You can read this article about this sweet pup for some lunchtime heart melting.

(thanks newagey!)

outline-of-weiner-guitar-gate

in additional superbowl news, last night prince performed the best half time show ever. there were some wtf? moments including the presence of this woman who looked like hollywood from mannequin dressed in a white sausage casing. aaaand this:

do you see that dong outline? it's really his guitar, but holy crap. i'm beginning to think that the superbowl douche wads are planning this on purpose. between janet's nipple and prince's dong guitar, i think it's deliberate. here's the full video, ffwd until about 7 minutes in.

dream job!

last night after the super bowl had ended, the seven layer dip and veggie pigs in a blanket had been devoured, the beers chugged and the jagerator defiled, we flipped the channel to animal planet where we discovered the best job ever. inventor of tv shows for animal planet, who last night aired puppy bowl III.

and if you missed last year's action:

next year i want to be the referee.

mama mia

Dear Universal Pictures,

Sunday afternoon we lost two hours of our lives. We want it back. It was a scary, painful, and nearly torturous experience. We want to warn you that your new picture, "Because I said So" may rob many more unsuspecting women and gay men from precious moments of their lives. This is a very serious situation and one that we hope you will address immediately.

Damn you, Universal. For mandy's acting with her eyebrows, for Mandy's searching for lines while waving her hands, for unnecessary song sequences, for random shots of the dog (leave him out of this), for the scene where Mandy Moore informs her mother Diane Keaton how amazing orgasms are, for... oh my god kill me now. No one should be subjected to that.

In an effort to save future movie goers from the pain and misery we experienced yesterday we recommend a disclaimer on all marketing materials...something like "this movie will suck the life out of you," or "this movie sucks so bad you'll want to rip your eyeballs out," or even "this movie will induce vomiting." Something, anything, please. You owe to us....you owe it to America.

Thank you and never, ever, do that again.

Sincerely,

Laurin & Billy

Those clever pornographers

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friday dating tip: ballz

with all of the talk about cisco adler's balls, i thought i would take this opportunity to make some suggestions that might lead to the world advancement of the self esteem of balls. these poor guys (i feel like they're totally gender specific) really get the shaft. haha. they have the WORST housing situation ever. stuck between two legs, unless kept sac free, always hidden. at the very least, they need a fan or some kind of moisture adjusting system to keep them happy and schmeg free. so, i'm naming today, national ball love day.

i really think we women and men who love men need to band together in order to praise these sometimes ignored jingley nuggets. there are a few things about the intelligently designed testical and scrotum worth recognizing. for example, have you ever noticed that when you blow on them, the skin moves around willy nilly? that's neat! they also have an internal elevator that knows when they are in hot tubs or chilly oceans. amazing!

away from features of design and onto scent. i was listening to sarah silverman on howard stern the other day and she mentioned that jimmy kimmel's balls smelled like bread. i have also heard from friends that their "output," shall we say, could be compared to sauteed mushrooms, crayons and possibly a little bit of chlorine. while we might prefer that this be not bread and the aforementioned nasal delights, but perhaps mangoes or butter rum life savers. however, marsala sauce would be nothing without sauteed mushrooms, childhoods would be pathetic without crayons and pools would be filthy without chlorine, so suck it up, ladies and gents. when life gives you fungi, make a delicious sauce.

lastly, grooming. as one friend reminded me, a shaved scrot can cause some weird chafing on all thighs and flesh that comes in contact. while hair might literally choke you up, do you want a rash instead? let's be honest.

so, i challenge each of you this weekend to find a pair of balls and coddle them with the depths of your being. they deserve it.

"i love the roaring"

i am posting this because i know how much stephanie loves both panther and american idol.