For all you alpaca lovers

And I know there are a lot of you out there.

Sorry this video is shaky and the light is crap, but dude, this alpaca was insane. It kept mounting the fence to eat the food from my hand. It didn't let the sheep or anyone else eat the food.



I spent the rest of the day smelling of alpaca saliva. It was awesome.

a dangerous admission

last night i was a slave to my laundry. everything, sheets, towels, the gnarliest of bottom of the barrel underwear (sorry), all of my weird sweatshirts. you know how it goes. anyway, even though i've tried hard to avoid season one million of ty-ty baby's america's next mediocre never to be heard from again model, i watched it. we've got 2 girls with jiggly boobs and one girl who hasn't eaten in a good few years. so the young girl with the brows got the boot and i was enlightened to learn that next week we'll get to see the miraculous transformations during makeover week! my favorite. that show is crack, i swear. anyway. after it was over and between my trips down to the dryer, i ended up getting wrangled into this other piece of trash television that i actually liked! i'm dead meat.

you see, the pussycat dolls are looking for their next doll. most of the girls are busted up bakersfield mall working prostitutes, but they can dance! i swear. singing, not so much. here's a picture of the dollz:

there is something about this photo of tanned gold clad monsters that reminds me of one of my favorite paintings. it's called the raft of medusa by gericault:

do you see the similarity? if you'd like to see the dolls live and in person, they're playing on saturday with xtina (it's sold out, so don't even think about ditching our birthday party). if you'd like to see the painting, it's in the louvre in paris.

this was a weird post, huh?

Wisdom from the elders

Erin, take it from your older and wiser compatriot. Thirty ain't so bad. I've been thirty for ten whole days, and I gotta say, I have no complaints. In fact, it's been awesome. Although more than half of those ten days have been spent in Sydney, Australia, repelling down waterfalls and going to all-night raves, so it's perhaps not a fair judgement.

Still, I think thirty is cool. I'm not gonna give you some bullshit about thirty being the new twenty. But I will say this - thirty is the new sixteen. Yay - you can finally drive a car!

Happy birthday, old lady, and have an awesome party.

teen beat tuesday: shitty teen tv

have you ever seen prime? prime is this total rom com of the most grade a quality that i am actually inclined to refer to it as girl porn. it involves uma thurman who is 38 and frequents a shrink played by meryl streep. uma ends up dating meryl's 23 yr old son and there are lots of close calls, you know until they all figure it out. the 23 yr old son/boyfriend is played by bryan greenberg (seen below).

he's so god dammerz hot in this movie that you want to turn way older (or just a little bit older if you're me) and go date young boys who go to clubs, dance massively hotstyle and have those shoulder muscles that look hot in wifebeaters even though wifebeaters aren't hot. anyway, i was just informed that bryan greenberg is about to star in a new drama on abc called october road.

i've been looking for something to take the place of my recently deceased oc and i think this might be it. my only issue is that in researching today's teen beatery, i found out that perhaps bryan greenberg was or is on one tree hill. this hurts my feelings. one tree hill is not ok, ya know? i'm tired (and old) and can't deal with matthew patrick sean scott murray or whatever his name is. vomit.

i'm going to get ready to post another teen beat post because it's just that kind of tuesday.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY ERIN!

have a rad day as you celebrate getting HELLA old today!
tons of birthday love from your unibloggal pals.

friday dating tip: thirty and dirty

you see, on tuesday i will be turning into jennifer garner. i will get picked up in limos for work, wear "marketing manager" clothes and date men like mark ruffalo. just kidding. but the thing that is not a joke, i will be thirty. this is my last dating tip as a person who has a 2 in the first part of my age. this is stressful. i am going to try and talk myself through this while imparting a bit of knowledge on y'allz.

1) when you're thirty, it's better to date dudes who are slightly younger and slightly more mature than you. this makes you feel youthful and kind of helpless. but only a little. slightly, like i said. no need to go nuts here. their job is to run you ragged (if you know what i mean...horizontal running) and to outdrink you so you can be taken advantage of. so many positives here.

2) when you're thirty, it's also ok to have dad crushes on smart salt and peppery men who you work with. i'm not saying that i have one, by the way, i'm just saying that it's fun because if they happened to like you back you wouldn't be the tarty hussy who grandpas liked to ogle. you can actually act on it. which is fun.

3) when you're thirty you have enough money to buy fun things that show your boobs to the object of your affection. i don't mean like conical madonna bras, but cute shirts that make you want to drink a lot and flirt. i sound like a douche. i just mean that thirty year olds make more money than 21 year olds. we also have 9 more years practice when it comes to frenching.

4) we have awesome birthday parties.

When Unibloggers Unite

my story:



this past week i had the fine pleasure of visiting a few of our bloggy pals and former sf residents in nyc. it was audrey's 30th bday, so what better time to head out east for a brooklyn/boozy/friend/freezo fest. on friday night a bunch of us met up in williamsburg at union pool where project "hang out with colleen (our favorite little tornado) and try not to go crosseyed" took place. i have never been in a tornado. you see, i'm from california. perhaps if i'd done some research before meeting up i would have known that seeking refuge somewhere underground may have left me in better shape. but no. instead i handed the tornado $20, told her to buy me a vodka soda and whatever she wanted for herself. when i turn back around to see tequila town waiting for us i knew i was about to see the eye of the storm.



cab ride home is very fuzzy. i do remember waking up in audrey's room the next morning with an odd combination of her pj's and mine on. when getting up to look for my purse in all common areas and auds' room and not finding it i went into minor i'mafuckingidiotandleftmypurseatthebar-panic. claire (my former and audrey's current roomie) hollered that it was in her room. i went in to claim it and found it next to the pile of every article of clothing i was wearing from the night before. my panic attack was apparently all i had the energy for so i remained horizontal with no voice at all until 3pm when it was time to attempt to celebrate audrey's bday.

lesson learned: tornadoes are serious business. next time i will approach in a less amateur style. i will hunker down in my basement, curl up in my bathtub with a couch cushion over my head, or at least eat extra bread with dinner. luckily tornado colleen also comes with tons of hugs and laughs for days which makes all of the devastation totally worth it.

colleen's story:



After sitting at a bar bored to tears by a struggling musician, he and i (yes, i brought him. shut up.) head over the peach pit after dark (union pool) to meet up with "the gang". i spy stephanie and audrey and we bro-out for a bit and then before i know it, stephanie plants a jackson in my hand with free reign to do whatever i want with it!!! note to readers: if ever at a bar with me i do not advise you handing me cash. i pretend i'm a hilton and will ask the bartender what kind of bang i can get for my buck. all of my bucks. that aren't actually mine. so that is exactly what i did. and well, for twenty dollars you'll get a pabst, a vodka soda and two very large shots of tequila. i hope i left a tip. after i did half my shot and resisted my gag reflexes, i decided it was time to leave. i grabbed my "friend" and headed out.

once outside homeboy finally says something i can relate to, "i need a sandwich." so, we walk the two blocks to hana food and order some food. i gave him my cash and then went outside to smoke a cigarette on the bench and much to my delight there was a very sweet delivery man outside who was ready to chat. i'm not so sure what we talked about he but was "a total sweetheart" and just shy of 50 years old. when i was done with my cigarette i got up, took one step, or should i say misstep and fell face forward on the sidewalk. we're talking a full on face plant into cement. as drink drank drunk as i was, my reliable left hand was able to come inbetween me and a mouthful of missing teeth. i broke my fall, but just barely. no missing teeth, thank LBJ, but a large bump and cut on my eyebrow resulted, of course not until the next day, when i had feeling again. all i remember is the very nervous delivery man helping me up and asking if he needed to call 911.

folks, the moral of this story is don't fall on your face. and if you can't help it, hope that your hands will rise to the occasion and help you out on your way down.

Douchebag of the Week: Rick Perry

Since taking over the Governor's office of your favorite president and mine George W. Bush in 2000, Texas Governor Rick Perry has made some interesting contributions to society, particularly in the realm of capital punishment. Since the beginning of 2007 (that's January and February for those of you who are counting) the Lone Star State has "texecuted" (isn't that cute) seven people. In 2001 Mr. Perry also made the obvious decision to veto a bill that would ban the execution of the mentally retarded. Good work. I'm sure you're constituents are proud, especially the retarded ones.

bag-eye-nuh

i don't usually like to steal images from go fug yourself, but since i want to point out something entirely different than what they discussed, i felt like it was ok.

is it me or does KATE holmes cruise look like a giant vaginer?
and doesn't she also seem a bit timid or ashamed of her outfit?
or is she checking to see if another baby suri fell out of her labia?
did i go to far? sue me.

teen beat tuesday: oscar after parties

(LAURIN - the OC spoiler alert. don't read the first part of this post)

i've written about the hotness of the oc before. as you might have read in my eulogy to the OC, i was correct in predicting the earthquake, which did not send the OC babez into the ocean, but made sure that the cohens are now our neighbors to the east. i can't wait to stalk them. anyway, the OC is now gone, but not forgotten. seth cohen is now out on the town (seen below at the vanity fair oscars party), stoned out of his gourd and looking fine as sugar.

i'm not sure what kind of man can get away with wearing pleated 8th grade dance z-cavarichi civil war pants, but holy shits and giggles he looks like a bone-o-thon.

adam brody is out on the town looking so fresh and clean in promotion of his new movie, in the land of women, which me and my friends will be vaginating all over come april 20:

wtf of the day.

how is this woman who is married to the fresh prince and also the mom to that cute little brat from the pursuit of happyness...

...also this woman:

harry donger

under this leaf is a water weenie made of magic!

why does this remind me of "never ending story" and the horse that drowns in quicksand?

WTF kind of church has a seminar like this?

none other than san francisco's own journeysf, a casual contemporary christian church. sounds like a tag line for KOIT FM. i think i just found the lord and he's telling me to wear blow job lip gloss.

team RINKO!

nuff said.

Douchebag of the Week: Dick Cheney

We all know that Dick Cheney is the anti-christ and, true to form, even in the face of unprecedented low approval ratings for the President and the Bush Administration he continues to be a total fucktard. Earlier this week, Cheney criticized House Speaker Nancy Pelosi's opposition to Bush's Iraq war build up saying that it is playing into the hand of Al Quida. Seriously Cheney, its time for you to go ahead and tap out of life. No one is buying what your selling anymore. If you're really concerned with what is playing into the hands of Al Quida, then maybe you should take a long hard look in the mirror. Mother Jones reports that since the inception of the Iraq War--a war conceptualized, marketed and sold to the American public by Bush, Cheney & Co. to thwart terrorism has instead, increased terrorist attacks sevenfold worldwide. Chew on that Dick.

GNO: the aftermath

since it's a little slow in the "stuff to read" category around here, i'm going to give you something to look at. last saturday a group of us girls headed out for what's known as a GNO (girls night out, it has nothing to do with the gynecologist). we all scurried down to the marina to visit our newly remodeled favorite dance hovel called the hifi! if you don't live in san francisco, the marina is the spot where you live if you're 23 and move to san francisco to work at some kind of banking institution. or where you go if you're going to be 30 in a week and you want lots of sweaty men to talk to you and your friends. here are some of the specimens we encountered:

when lizzy drinks, someone gets to wear a backpack. in this case, he looked like a nascar driver.

tina and the singer of live were just chillin, with very aggressive mouths.

this might win the award for best photo ever. lizzy broing out with thom yorke and an italian soap star.

for some reason these guys didn't mind that i kept calling them harold and kumar. lindsay is stoked.

this is stephanie and someone i'll call vincent. i don't know if that was actually his name but he looks like vincent donofrio and he's wearing a turtle neck like artist vincent van gogh might have done.

this is blaine. his beamer is parked outside. later he will become werewolf.

remember in that prince song for batman called "bat dance" when someone (maybe it's from the actual movie) yells "THIS TOWN NEEDS AN ENEMA." exactly. and that other guy is just sweaty with razor sharp hair.

sorry the photos are so erin-heavy. i was holding the camera and was responsible for documenting the douchetards. here's vincent again. oh and the guy who tina ripped her arms off so she could him with them. see:

amputeena.

The first step is admitting you have a problem

Do you feel the need to constantly refresh your inbox? Are you clicking the send/receive button as often as you blink? It’s a major problem from which I’m sure many of my collogues suffer – email addiction.

Well, fear not my Gmail junkies and Hotmailheads. Say goodbye to those Yahoo yearnings, now there’s something to help: the new 12-step program for email addicts.

The first of the 12 steps is "admit that e-mail is managing you. Let go of your need to check e-mail every 10 minutes."

Every 10 minutes? Fuck that, I check email every 2 minutes. Or more. I’m ALWAYS checking my email. But I don’t see it as a major problem. And, whatever, I mean, I can totally quit whenever I want.

I guess I’m still in the denial stage. Perhaps it would help if I shared the story of my own personal struggle with email addiction...

It started out innocently enough, I got a Hotmail account in college. I used it to stay in touch with my long-distance friends, checking my inbox in the computer labs maybe once or twice a day. But after I graduated, I got my own computer, and I found myself spending more and more time on email, writing long messages to people I didn’t even like.

They say Hotmail is a transition service; it leads to the use of other, more hardcore email providers. And they’re right. Soon I created a Yahoo account, and before I knew it... I was on Gmail. Using it multiple times an hour. It all went downhill from there. I had more email addresses than I knew what to do with. I couldn’t remember my passwords for all of them NOR the answers to my personal security questions. What was my first pet’s name? I DON’T KNOW, GODDAMIT! I JUST DON’T KNOW!

Soon I found myself on the streets, begging for spare change to use in seedy Internet cafés. All I needed was to see an unread message in my inbox... I’d do anything for another email hit. I would lie, cheat, steal. Before I knew it, I was giving handjobs in parked cars in exchange for five minutes with someone’s Blackberry. If there was an attachment or video link, I’d throw in a blowjob.

That’s when I knew I’d hit rock bottom. I checked myself into the nearest email rehab facility, started going to meetings, and my life has been different ever since. Now when will they develop one of these programs for G-chat?

Burt Tijuana?

New Panther Video!

Check out Panther's new video: How Well Can You Swim (E* Rock Remix). It's off of his new album "Secret Lawns" that comes out March 6th on frykbeat. He's also playing in SF on march 8th at the Hemlock! Man, do I love this fella.

(thanks matt!)

Friday dating tip: Date a Hot Scot

Great news! I’ve come up with a solution to my waning ovary problem: This brilliant contest from Continental Airlines.

You may not be aware of my obsession with Scottish men, but let me explain that during my junior year abroad in Scotland, I basically managed to shag the entire country. My dating policy that year: If there’s a kilt, I’m under it.

They seriously don’t wear underwear underneath those things, I guarantee it.

I recommend that you keep that little factoid in mind when you peruse through this varied array of eligible Scots. I know I will tonight in bed while I watch each video clip and bring myself to multiple orgasms at the soothing sound of their husky brogue. I’m already excited.

My plan is to win the contest, travel to Scotland and nab me one of these Hottie-Scotties to be my baby-daddy. It shouldn’t be too difficult, the Scottish men love American women (we’re easy and can’t hold our whiskey). Then I can give birth to a baby in a kilt with a hot little accent.

And if there’s one thing all we women want, it’s a sexy baby.

(thanks for the link, Claire)