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If you heard a rumor that Amy and I watched the New Kids on the Block concert live on VH1 last night, and then danced full choreography to Hangin' Tough and The Right Stuff in the middle of our living room, that rumor is true.
Tina Fey on Sarah Palin: "I want to be done playing this lady Nov. 5. So if anybody can help me be done playing this lady Nov. 5, that would be good for me."
Until then, though:
(If you're in Reader, you have to click through to see the video. Sorry.)
Point of reference:
It took me a long time to realize that people don't like it when you call their babies "puppies." I mean, it always felt like a bit of an upgrade to me. You show me a paperclip and I say "solid gold." You know?
It's even harder for me, when I meet a woman named Margaret, not to be like, "Oh, my dog is named Margaret!" Because for some reason people find that offensive. I always try to talk my way out of it by saying things like, "No, it's a compliment, see. I love my dog more than I could ever love you."
People don't seem to like that either.
There's not a city in the world that is prouder of itself than Las Vegas. I mean, Paris is proud to be Paris, but it's, you know, Paris — home of the actual Eiffel Tower and the actual Arc de Triumphe, commissioned by actual Napoleon.
Vegas is so in your face with its Vegas-ness: the lights, the noise, the not-sleeping, the porn slappers. Every tram stop dropping you in the belly of a casino that has been designed to keep you inside, to keep you from knowing if it's day or night or if you've missed the Apocalypse. Every map commissioned by some hotel or another to make it look as if everything in the desert is a quick walk from the place you're standing. The happy excess, excess, excess! It's maddening.
I mean, I'm not mad at Vegas or anything. It let me and Abigail hang out for a couple of days and ride a roller coaster and eat some good food and drink many beers.
The Southwest contest was a good time. It felt a little bit like being on The Amazing Race. Abigail got her video assignment on Saturday morning, and then it was a marathon of walking and walking and walking and filming, and then editing late into the night. (Or, in my case, sleeping, since I was still on east coast time.)
I got some moderately awesome swag at BlogWorld, and met a million people who, as far as I can tell, were all peddling the same idea: let us exploit your readers by installing our third party software on your blog. I was halfway through a presentation by one guy when I realized that he was the creator of that ad-link monstrosity, SnapShots. It took all of my considerable willpower not to punch that dude in the face.
The best exhibit at BlogWorld was for who knows what company, but the point is they had a cash machine. You step inside, they turn it on, money flies everywhere. It was spectacular. I only won ten bucks, but Abigail snagged at least 30.
I've got two more trips planned this year, one to England with Amy Sue, and one super secret one that I am not supposed to talk about yet. Right now, my wanderlust is in neutral. It's fully autumn here in Georgia, and there's nothing like the southland in the fall time.
Abiagil's blog-o-spondent video is up. You can view it below and then vote here.
Voting is open until 1:00 p.m. PST.
Check back tomorrow at 10:00 am PST for Abigail's video!
You guys remember when you voted Abigail into the top ten for her Southwest Airlines blog-o-spondent video? Well, she interviewed herself into the top three, and we're off to Vegas today for the final competition. Please check back tomorrow. We'll be putting her Vegas video up, and you'll have a chance to vote for it. Your votes + the judges votes = Abigail as the winner! (Hopefully.)
XOXO,
Assistant to the Southwest Airlines blog-o-spondent
You guys know that girl on the left, yeah? My sister, Jennifer? Cute, right? We're totally related.
I've written here a couple of times about Jenn beating cancer and then starting up as a distance runner. Well, she's so darn good at running, that an organization called Charity Mile is paying her to blog about it. You can check out her blog here. And you should, because today she's talking about jelly beans.
Sometimes she writes in a British accent, but you're used to that, of course. I mean, you read my blog, don't you?
Yesterday, Jennie shared a little something on Google Reader that made my heart triple thump: Blake Lively and Leighton Meester are all set to guest star on 30 Rock as former classmates of Tina Fey's Liz Lemon! The flashback will reveal that Liz Lemon was actually -- wait for it -- a Mean Girl!
The Share sparked a series of texts that went a little something like this.
Heather Anne: Abigail, look it! Sweet Lord! Blake and Leighton on 30 Rock! BESTSHAREEVEROMG!!
Jennie: Heh.
Heather Anne: The Internet is so quiet for so many days, then it's like Bam! Harry Potter isn't a virgin! Bam! Jen Aniston and Gossip Girls on 30 Rock!
Jennie: Maybe the internet needed a rest.
Heather Anne: Why? The Internet didn't sleep with a cougar like Harry Potter did.
Jennie: How do you know?
Abigail: The Internet sleeps with EVERYONE.
Heather Anne: I'd do the Internet.
[long pause without texts]
Heather Anne: Um, you guys aren't attracted to the Internet?
Jennie: No, it's just that I've already done the internet
Heather Anne: How was it?
Jennie: Messy.
Heather Anne: Why? Did you use Internet Explorer?
We're Firefox girls at The Collective. Firefox girls who love our Google products. I don't know what we'll do now that Google has released its Chrome Browser.
(Someone will be my 9,000th commenter today!)
I'm sitting in mild traffic with my three girls (Amy, Scout, Margaret), trying to get out of town for a hike. An antique yellow roadster whips into the lane beside us, and Margaret, whose car manners are usually perfect, starts growling and barking and throwing herself headlong into the window.
"Margaret hates Jay Gatsby!" I say to Amy as I wrestle the dogs back into the backseat.
"Maybe she's giving him a warning," Amy says. "Slow down, you son-of-a-bitch! Myrtle's in the middle of the road just ahead!"
"These dead bumble bees on our driveway look like they just fell out of the air, like they were hit with a very precise Avada Kedavra curse."
"Maybe they were having sex and smashed into the ground. They totally do it in the air."
"Maybe the climax lasted too long, and they were so delirious—"
"There's no such thing as a climax that lasts too long."
"Uh, if you plummet to your death, then yeah, it lasted too long."
"You're wrong. This is nature's proof that it's worth it."
"Or maybe it's nature's proof that our next-door-neighbor is a Death Eater."
Say what you want about Gossip Girl: that it's a smutty, overblown teenage soap opera, that it's beyond unrealistic, that it's — what did the Parent's Television Council call it? Oh, right — mind-blowingly inappropriate. It's all true. But also, Gossip Girl is AWESOME.
Last season, Serena gave the very best TV-reveal ever. After a spectacular build-up, in which you're thinking "threesome" or "hard drugs," she goes, "I killed someone."
The story didn't get to live itself out properly because of the writer's strike. I mean, of course she didn't actually kill someone, but the suspense would have played better with a few more episodes. The season finale was garbled and patched up, but tonight — TONIGHT! — season 2 premieres.
Amy just called out from the laundry room, "Go get your favorite Monday shirt, and I'll wash it for you."
And I was like, "Leave it be, woman! Gossip Girl starts in an hour. We have to get prepared!"
Laundry and dishes. Pshaw. Where the hell is my big, red bow?
