Rabbit Season/Duck Season? No, Tourist Season

Yesterday I sauntered to the Pike Place Market to grab some spicy chicken teriyaki for lunch and found myself scowling, cursing, and sighing with contempt. It's tourist season in Seattle. Swarms of them, like locusts, have invaded the city and are desperate to see the Space Needle and get a salmon thrown at them and drink real Starbucks coffee. Normally I roll my eyes and walk briskly past the tourists as I head to work or to the grocery store or wherever us Seattle resident-type folk hang out.

But this time I stopped...and realized that in less than a week I will be that dorky tourist asking people when the next ferry to Alcatraz departs and and posing for a picture next to a giant pot of crabs at Fisherman's Wharf. I will be that person who takes just a bit too long to ask for directions on the bus when the rest of the passengers just want to get to work already. No matter how much indie hipster street cred I may want to think I have, the fact is, I'm going to be walking around with my nose buried in my laminated Streetwise San Francisco map for at least the next six months and that makes me (sigh) a big ol' tourist.

So this summer, I'm proposing National Be Gentle With Tourists Season**, if only because many of us will probably find ourselves in that position this summer and could use a little help finding our ways around.

**This post will self destruct in about six months or however long it takes me to get my bearings and start snearing at tourists again like a local.

An Open Letter to the Cast, Crew and Producers of “The Holiday,”

Dear Cast, Crew and Producers of “The Holiday,”

Not since “13 Going on 30” have I desperately longed for a time machine, so that I could travel back to the Beth of Two Hours Ago, wrestle her/me to the ground and wrench the remote control from her/my hands so that I could get those two utterly wasted hours back. I feel robbed of my time after watching this fluffy, predictable mess, and these days I don’t have a lot of time to spare, which makes this movie all the more bothersome.

Listen, you’re all smart people. You’re all talented. I like you all, especially you, Jude Law, when you wear dorky glasses like you did. But, seriously, what were you thinking when you read this script? In the first 37 seconds, the following things are painfully, painfully obvious: Kate Winslet’s character will find her girl-power and Cameron Diaz’s character will learn to cry. Jude Law will be Flawed Somehow But Still Win Over The Pretty Girl and Jack Black’s doughy character will be cheated on by his supermodel/actress girlfriend and he will realize the Right Girl Was There All Along.

Sigh. See? I just gave away the entire plot in two sentences. Look, I swear my heart is not made of coal, I cry at Extreme Home Makeover like the rest of the world does. But oh, the things I could have spent my $3.99 on instead of this mess! I urge you all to go out and make some smart indie hipster movie to cleanse your souls of The Holiday immediately.

Until then,
Beth

What's in YOUR mailbox?

If you're like me, then your mail yesterday consisted of....

Credit card statement
Airline miles update
Safeway weekly sale ad
Pottery Barn catalog
AAA membership renewal form
Informational brochure about decreased sexual interest

Um, WHAT? Praytell, what box did I check that put me on this list? It's bad enough I'm no longer in the coveted 18-30 age group, but now this? Siiiiiigh. My cat lady support group is going to hear about this one.

Beth's San Fran apartment hunt: the kitchen sink is apparently very much included

Well folks, I think I found a place for the World of Beth to call home for a while, so talk about a huge, massive, enormous relief off my shoulders. Provided they don't find out about my extensive criminal record and restraining order from Philip Seymour Hoffman (note to potential landlords reading this: I'M KIDDING) I'll be calling the North Beach/Waterfront area home in just a couple weeks.

The apartment hunting process is just so disorienting. It's hard to walk into a stark, white-walled room and think of it as ever being yours, let alone cute and charming. It's especially tough when, in this case, the kitchen sink was in the process of being replaced and the old dirty sink was sitting smack in the middle of the living room. Hard to visualize my possessions and cat and personality in such a bare, still disheveled place, but I'm sure it will be nice once it's cleaned up and infused with Bethness.

Don't mean to be negative...I'm sure it will be fine....again, just tough to visualize at this point without a sink being in the middle of the room. But check out the picture. Pool! View! City location! Countdown is now two weeks and counting....make your reservations NOW, loyal readers for your SF visits.

Q&A With The New San Francisco Treat

Oh lordie. Looks like my big San Francisco news has spawned some questions from readers:

Q: Look here, missy. You can't just unload and say you're moving without any warning like that. Have you been planning this thing secretly for months and just not telling your loyal readers?

A: For the sake of my sanity, I wish I HAD been planning it for months, but the fact is that I just found out about this opportunity a couple of weeks ago. Seriously. No plans to move before then. No desire to uproot and leave Seattle, really. Left field, meet the World of Beth.

Q: Um, you don't sound very excited about this move. You sound kind of freaked out.

A: I am excited, believe me. When does one get a chance like this handed to them on a platter? I love Seattle like a BFF, but it's been 11 years since I came here and maybe the time's come to think about making a change. Why move now and to San Francisco? Why the hell NOT? The whole thing is actually quite serendipitous if you think about it. I have always thought of San Francisco has Seattle's older, more sophisticated sister city and the fact that I will call it home is....exciting and amazing.

But, let's be clear, I'm also pretty freaked out.

Q: (Cringing) Did you actually just use the word serendipitous?

A: Clearly I'm already feeling the California energy, man. In all seriousness though, sometimes when you're struggling to make a decision or a life change, the universe comes around and makes it for you.

Q: But....where will you live? What will you do? How will you get down there? How will Mrs. Puff adapt? It's only three weeks away and you don't even have an apartment lined up.

A: First of all, that's not even a question. That's a trap to get me into the fetal position. I'm getting more coffee and sitting out on my patio now to get my mind off of you. Good day, sir.

Q: But...you didn't answer my questions....

A: I SAID GOOD DAY.

Exciting, Foggy News In the World of Beth!

Yes, gentle readers, it's been a MONTH. I know. I get it. I'm soooorrry.

Would it help if I came to you this morning with really exciting, tremendous, life-altering news? In just a few weeks, the World of Beth will be packing up her books and typewriters and $6 Trader Joe's wine collection and headin' to San Francisco! You may now officially refer to me as the New, Improved San Francisco Treat.


I'll be transferring to my office's schnazzy San Francisco office on Maiden Lane right next to Union Square, which makes me giddy as a little Prada-wearing schoolgirl. (Assuming, of course, that Prada made school girl dresses for girls above a size 8, but that's another blog post in itself....) If you'll be in San Francisco around July 4 and are looking to experience the World of Beth in person, drop me a line!

The past few weeks have been a giant emotional roller coaster. Excited! Happy! Adventurous! Wheeeee! - right down to Terrified! Anxious! Sad! Whooooooo....all I can say is thank you to the folks who have offered their support and advice and reassuring kind words to scrap me off of the ceiling. Right now there are about a zillion balls still in the air that need to be figured out (housing is just one of them), but I'm sure once things get a little more solidified I'll be feeling much calmer.

Did I mention I had a houseguest recently too? Who bought me a cool pizza stone baker thing and helped me to relive lots of lame junior high memories? We checked out the Ballard Locks, Kerry Park (see above), Archie McPhee's and Chinoise, one of my favorite restaurants in Seattle. Good times....thanks for the visit, lil' buddy.

Stay tuned for more posting now that the news is official.....

My Third Eye Is Thoroughly Relaxed Now

Yes, a rough life, I know. First a Morrissey concert, then a day at the spa – a girl could get used to this.

I was finally able to renew a gift certificate I had left over from Christmas (yeah, I know that sounds really obnoxious….), at this little spa place right near the theater where I was all gooey and sentimental over Morrissey the previous night. I decided I would get something different from the usual massage or facial and indulge in a “Shirodhara Scalp Massage" along side a peppermint scrub pedicure.

Folks, I cannot say enough good things about this scalp massage thingy. Admittedly it’s a little new age-y, but it’s all good. First, they rub cool stones over your face – which feels a whole lot better than it sounds. Then they pour warm oil over the “third eye” on your forehead which feels every bit as new age-y as it sounds. But then the rubbing.

My God, the rubbing.

Then they rub your scalp for 45 minutes – the exact same way your mom did when you were a kid, which makes you all sleepy and relaxed and zen-like and able to ignore the fact that cool stones are occasionally re-applied to your face and that they're pouring warm oil over your head and that you’re in a spa paying for this rather than being 8 years old and having your actual mom rubbing your actual head.

At the end you emerge, as my head-rubber called me, as a “greaseball,” (because, after all, your hair has been virtually soaked in oil for 45 minutes) albeit a very relaxed, chilled out greaseball.

Worth every penny the gift card was spent on...it's enough to send a girl home singing "Girlfriend in a Coma" the whole way without even thinking of the fact that she's dripping oil onto her Old Navy t-shirt.

Panic on the Streets of....Denver?

If you’ve ever wondered what it might take to make 33-year-old Beth all giggly and school girlish, then all you have to do it take her to a Morrissey concert with her junior high co-hort Rena and there you’ll have it. He may be 48 and a bit gray at the temples, but he’s still got what it takes to make me giddy and weak in the knees.

Against an angsty backdrop of James Dean, urging the crowd to ‘be tender with him” due to the altitude, the Moz put on one hell of a show, including Smiths’ favorites like "Panic," "How Soon Is Now," and "Please Please Please Let Me Get What I Want." It was all I could do to just stand there and grin like a maniac while clinging to my $7 beer. The encore sucked, but HEY, if you don’t leave a Morrissey concert feeling sad and angsty, what good is it, right?

I’m sorry folks, but there’s something very poignant and moving about a crowd of angst-ridden 30-year-olds screaming out “I AM HUMAN AND I NEED TO BE LOVED” at the top of their beer-soaked lungs. Growing up, Morrissey’s music spoke to me – and dare I say, actually saved my life - at times when I felt utterly alone; it was touching to hear him again in an entirely different time and place in my life. I recall journals of mine in college plastered with lyrics from Morrissey and the Smiths that still touch me. Being in a concert with hundreds of like-minded folks seemed downright therapeutic.

Anyhoo.....Good to reconnect with old friends over old music. I’m in Denver, by the way….

“Burn down the disco….hang the blessed DJ….because the music that they constantly play….sings nothing to me about my life….”

An Open Letter to the Hotel Diva in San Francisco

Dear Hotel Diva,

Um, hi. I’m not a diva by any standard – my people, the Danish, were brought up to believe that it’s just plain bad manners to raise a fuss about ANYTHING (including being in fire, trapped in a well, etc.), so I feel a little out of sorts by writing you in the first place. However, you’re the freakin’ HOTEL DIVA so I feel like we need to talk. I mean, look at those pictures of you - you're adorable. And while technically not incorrect, they're a little misleading.

For one, the fact that you have concert footage of Cher and Liza playing in the lobby (kitschy in its own right) isn’t enough to make you “diva-licious.” My room was smaller than my kitchen table and featured a “goody bag” that included deodorant and coupons for male body spray. Again, I hate to raise a fuss here, but you call those GOODIES? What self-respecting diva in her right mind is going to be wooed by some deodorant and a few sample pieces of Trident?

Girlfriend, do we need to also talk about the fact that my comforter (while soft) was grey on one side and then hunter-caliber ORANGE on the other? Is this diva-worthy? You’re telling me that Beyonce sleeps on sheets that are grey and orange? Methinks not.

Your concierge referred me and my guest to Max’s, which – while very conveniently located – felt to us like an upscale version of Perkins. Perkins. Which – don’t get me wrong – is fabulous when the situation calls for a bread bowl salad and a Chocolate Chipper, but when you’re staying at the HOTEL DIVA, it’s a bit of a bring down.

Finally, may I point out that my guest had a room with no air conditioning (What, a diva is supposed to sweat here?) and I was in a street-level room with a view of an alley. The glamour, shall we say, was a bit lax.

Look, I feel weird even bringing any of this up. But the fact that you pride yourself on being the HOTEL DIVA makes this letter all the more necessary.

Bring in some fluffy white down comforters, some air conditioners, a goodie bag that features at least something beyond COUPONS, free Wi-Fi for your guests and some rooms that are more than closet sized and we’ll talk again.

Until then –

Beth

No Napas Actually Taken in Napa 2007

Oh Jeez.

Okay, so I went to Napa and haven’t blogged about it in for-EVAH, okay? Sorry, World at Large. We ate yummy food, we stayed in an adorable yellow house, we basked in the 85 degree heat, we tried wineries that no one else has ever heard of – in short, it was a fabulous trip. I even got to shop for olive oil and schmancy cheese.

This was actually my third time to Napa Valley. The first was in my 24-year-old Chardonnay guzzling years, in which I couldn't drink anything anymore robust than a super-oak-y, fruity Chardonnay (hey, no compaints or judgement). The second being the Naked Mud Bath Experience Trip, in which I remember nothing except being naked in a mud bath and then this trip, in which I feel I've become enough of a respectable wine snob to know the difference between the varietals but remain cheap enough too not stray from what's offered at my neighborhood Trader Joe's. It's all good anyway you look at it.

Still, if you’ve never rocked out to Young MC’s “Bust a Move” while gazing upon endless fields of grapes then you’ve not done Napa properly, Amigos. There was the obligatory viewing of "Sideways", an educational tour at Mondavi that took roughly seven hours, several ongoing conversations about Why Beth Will Never Go Camping*, and more cheese and bread than you can shake a $24 Merlot-dipped stick at.

I returned home feeling rested, sun-baked and saturated in bold, full-bodied Cabs. Ain't a bad feeling.

** Look, smores and bonfires are cool and all, but I don't like peeing outdoors. I don't like sleeping outdoors. I don't like not showering. I don't like being that far from room service. I'm sorry, but I am NOT a happy camper.

An Open Letter to “Shut Up And Sing,” the Dixie Chicks Documentary

Dear Dixie Chicks Documentary,

Having recently spent what felt like an endless number of hours watching you, could you please explain to me how it is possible that a documentary such as yourself could be so dreadfully, painfully, mind-numbingly boring? You have rednecks versus liberals! You have freedom of speech issues! You have war protesters and death threats and Rick Rubin! You even have that inspiring “Not Ready To Make Nice” song that even I like as your soundtrack!

And yet, you waste half of yourself with extended footage of the Chicks in the studio, recording tracks, plinging their banjos, talking with producers – blah, blah, blah. There's a lot of footage of Nathalie Manes laying on various couches in recording studios with no makeup on, but she's never saying anything particularly articulate or motivating. In fact usually she's getting counselled by her PR advisors and tour managers about how to react - this is supposed to inspire me? Plus, you’re poorly organized – flipping back in time to 2003, then ahead to 2006, then back to 2005, then back again to 2003 – what is UP, Dixie Chicks Documentary?

I was so looking forward to spending some time with you and this is what I get for it?

Whatever,
Beth

Dispatches From The (Perhaps More Than) Friends of the Public Library Booksale

I’ve always fancied myself a book geek. I love reading, I love authors, I love libraries, I love words. Hell, I even love punctuation. And yet, after going to the Seattle Friends of the Library Book Sale this weekend, I’ve discovered a new culture of “book people” who have taken book love to a Whole ‘Nother Level.

For one, these folks come prepared. They plan ahead and bring giant suitcases and military-sized duffel bags and plastic milk crates and roll-y luggage carts to drag their book purchases around the shopping area. They shuffle slowly around the book tables because they’re nudging packed cardboard boxes of books in front of them with their feet while carrying additional packed boxes in their arms. These people buy in BULK. The $14 stack of books I came away with has got nothin’ on these folks. The people watching alone made this experience worthwhile.

God I love how nerdy Seattle is.

A couple days ago I got hit with a weird eye infection/allergic reaction thing where my eyes basically puffed up and weeped all day, making me look like I was having a nervous breakdown all day long. But I digress. The point is, I stayed home from work and found myself watching TV off and on throughout the day.

During which I saw a commercial for the new Volvo S80. The commercial features a woman walking to her car, late at night, alone, her 3-inch heels click-clicking their way to her reliable safe Volvo after a hard day of working at the local Swedish blond furniture factory. But then (cue creepy music), as she takes out her remote to unlock her Volvo during the dead of night, she notices the remote’s HEARTBEAT DETECTOR feature is blinking – i.e., Ax Murderer In The Car Alert! Ax Murderer In The Car Alert! - and she immediately turns around and scurries to safety.

So, this is good….I guess? Sort of? Engh? I think I just find the whole scenario rather terrifying – that so many people are being attacked by freakshows hiding out in their Volvos that they needed to design and market and install a remote control HEARTBEAT DETECTOR as part of your remote keyless entry systems. The world's a scary place - I'm glad Volvo's creating ways to keep us safe, but this just creeps me out because it's a threat and a danger I didn't really even pay attention to that regularly.

As Engadget noted last year, I’m glad I just have to deal with the regular homeless/crazy non-Volvo-lurking weirdos on my public transportation system rather than fighting them off in my own car.

Body Modification Alert

So maybe I’ve just be watching too much Miami Ink and developing way too much of a crush on Chris Nunez and Garver, but I’ve got the tattoo bug. BIG. TIME. No rash decisions yet, I’m just thinking about it and trying to psych myself up for actually taking the plunge.

I’m throwing around some ideas for what I want and trying to think of where to put it on my body. Right now I’m leaning towards the image of Jack Kerouac’s Underwood typewriter (worthy of a posting in itself), surrounded by Saucer Magnolia Blossoms (another post in itself). But where to put it on me where it will still be appropriate in a professional setting is the challenge.

Ideas? Suggestions? If you’ve gotten a tattoo in Seattle and liked the experience, let me know where you went and who you liked. Hell, if you’ve gotten ink anywhere and liked it let me know too in case I’m traveling somewhere and inspiration/madness hits me.

An Open Letter to MySpace

Myspace, are you intentionally trying to be difficult? Do you want me to stop and turn this Internet around and go back home? Do you, MySpace? Because I WILL.

All I want is a cute little background picture, maybe some cute little extra features, to customize my, well, my space, and it’s taking me hours to figure that out. Are there no good editing/customizing programs out there? Can no one make this an easier, more intuitive process? Seriously, MySpace, 12-year-olds have figured you out and I can’t? Is there a special invisible font that you employ that people over 30 can’t see somehow?

I was hoping to work with you as a nice compliment to the World of Beth, in the off chance I get organized and take more digital pictures to share with, well, the World of Beth. I was hoping to put up a nice playlist of songs I enjoy. I had lots of hopes and dreams for us, MySpace.

But right now I think you just need a time out. Just wait until your father gets home, MySpace, he’s going to have to have a word with you. For now, you’re officially grounded.

Ugh,
Beth

Food review: Strawberry Fusion Gum

One of the best perks of my job is that we have an incredibly well-stocked kitchen area, complete with drinks, snacks and a breath-taking (breath-saving?) assortment of mints and gum. You would think we were professional make-out artists what with all of the Altoids we have stocked in there.

But recently I’ve discovered, waaaaay in the back of the gum drawer (yes, we have a Gum Drawer and it is glorious), was a case of candy-coated Chicklet-ish yumminess which has become my latest guilty pleasure. Ladies and gentleman, I present to you Trident’s “Strawberry Fusion” sugar free gum!

This is the most complicated gum ever, and I like to think I’m a fairly smart person that knows her way around gum. First of all, there are two flavor sides to choose from – sweet versus sour. I’m not sure if you’re supposed to mix and match the flavors or what. Experiment with various degrees of each for your own flavor experience? Maybe. All I know is that I can’t cram the pieces of gum into my mouth fast enough. They taste like candy. They smell like candy. And they’re calorie free! They prevent cavities!

God only know how foul it is for my co-workers that have to sit near me, emitting strawberry fumes a la my Strawberry Shortcake dolls with every breath I take, but I cannot get enough of this stuff. The sour strawberry side is particularly delicious, although it is clearly laced with crack because I’m literally chomping away on it as I type this like a cow feasting on sweet Kentucky grass.

Mmmmmm....Mystery ingredient Xylitol……

Peepapalooza, Peeple!

Heads up, Peeps - there's been waaaay too much going on in the world of Peeps. 'Tis the season, I guess...

May I share a ball gown made of Peeps, as well as highlights from this year's Peepapalooza from the Seattle Times. I think "Ameri-Peep Gothic" is my favorite.

Then, not to be outdone, check out the official Peeps Website, (which truly never, ever disappoints) as well as pretty durned comprehensive site about the science behind Peeps. And, if you're especially brave, might I recommend the Lord of the Peeps site, which should really put us all in a Peep Coma.

Peeps out.

Eat my nail dust, Carmela Soprano

Sigh. Well, I went and got some fake nails yesterday. A "full set" as they call them. Given to me by a teensy tiny Vietnamese woman who had teensy tiny little hands. I felt like I had actual gigantic paws while she was holding my hand.

Anyhoo. I have mixed feelings about the nails. Look, they're tasteful. Really. They are. But still I feel a little Carmela Soprano meets Harvey Fierstein-esque. I have now become one of those women who needs to "get their nails done." On the flip side, that's why I wanted them to begin with. I liked the idea of getting more manicures and spending more time taking care of myself. Having these things make that a necessity. I wanted to be a little more girlie and princessy and somehow, as I passed the nail shop, it seemed this might be the best way to do that. Engh, we'll see.

On a related note, may I share how much joy it gave me when I asked two distinctly different people where I could find "a makeup organizer" and both of them instantly said, "Wait, you mean like a Caboodle?"

Yes, if you're interested, they still make and sell Caboodles and they are still fabulous. Just very odd to hear the word "Caboodle" said twice in one day.

I gotta go organize my Caboodle and tease my hair while I work on my Jersey accent.

Open Letter to Every. Single. Person. At the Northgate Target this weekend

Dear Every Single Person At the Northgate Target This Weekend,

First of all, let me be clear. This means you. Yes, you. All of you. Every single person that was there on Saturday. All of you.

PUT DOWN YOUR DAMNED CELL PHONES AND JUST START SHOPPING ALREADY. SOME OF US ARE AT TARGET TO, UM, ACTUALLY SHOP AT TARGET.

Thank you, that is all.

Cheerio,
Beth

P.S. Hi there, did anyone else notice they're selling Boot's goodies at Northgate now? Bring on the Eurotrashy skin care products and makeup! That was the only thing that saved my sanity among the cell phone toting masses.

P.P.S. Hi there, I see you still talking on your cell phone. HANG UP RIGHT NOW. ENOUGH ALREADY.

"You TAKE a nappa, you don't MOVE to Napa!"

Or, Carrie Bradshaw, in my case, you go to Napa for a three-day weekend with your girlfriends in just under a month. Looking forward to snarfing down cheese and wine at every meal, driving along lush country roads and reading trashy magazines while mocking celebrities.

God I love frequent flier miles. Thanks, Alaska Airlines, for making this trip possible!

My new roommate, Matt

There's a new BFF in the World of Beth, or, more specifically, the Apartment of Beth - which involves a floofy white smooshable new queen-sized pillowtop mattress from Sears.com. I LUUUURRVE it.

It is ginormous and high and fluffy and delicious and it makes me feel like a princess when I am sleeping on it. I have decided to name it Matt, which allows me to carry on my fantasty of someday actually sleeping with someone other than Mrs. Puff. Matt doesn't give me a backache like my old 10-year-old ghetto mattress did.

Matt and I are going to be alright. Our future will be bright, I feel it.

And speaking of hot new shows to check out... **

So.....The Riches on FX. Anyone? Bueller? Anyone at all?

First of all, thanks to the Alert Member of World of Beth that tipped me off to this show, and to the fact that Eddie Izzard is playing a suburban dad and that he looks actually kind of, well, manly and dad-like these days. File that in a gigantic file called "Who'd A Thunk It? (and/or Possible Signs of The Coming Apocalypse)."

I've had a bit of a perverse thing for Eddie Izzard for a while because he's very funny and he's very smart and he brings the two together brilliantly, but his whole cross dressing and lip gloss thing really limited how far my fantasies could progress with him. Let's face it, at its most wicked, my Eddie Izzard dream date consisted of my running into him at a cocktail party after I had sucked down a few too many dirty martinis and the two of us would get into an animated contest where we would make up increasingly snarky comments about the party's attendees. We would be deliciously bitchy together. Annnnnnd....that's about it. But I digress.....


Seriously, a suburban dad? I'm afraid there's just no room for me in that little fantasy world. As for the show, I'm more impressed so far with Minnie Driver. She really broke my heart in the scene where she came out of prison and was all alone and damaged-looking. Let's see how long it stays on the air and where it goes from here.

** Dude, my posts NEVER synch up like this, what's going on?

Speaking of Be-Spectacled Nerd Boys....

Engh! Engh! Hey! Engh! (Imagine Beth squirming and jumping up and down with her arm held high like Arnold Horschack) Hey! You! HEYYYYYY!! This! American! Life! It's coming to Showtime! As a SHOW! On the TELEVISION! Ira Glass in all of his nasally-toned silver throated glory - in person, in my living room.

Like my cable bill needs to be any larger...they go and throw a show like this up on a premium channel like Showtime. I'm hoping Netflix gets around to sharing the Ira-Glassiness of televised Ira Glass before I have to sell Mrs. Puff to Comcast as payment.

If anyone has checked this show out, let me know how it is or if I need to go to Chicago and stalk Ira to ask him myself.

Lobby, this one's for you

Yes folks, it’s a blog about Lobsters, sent to me by an Alert Member of the World of Beth. It's not the hilarious, gut-busting tome one might expect from Lobsters, but the book that started the whole thing to begin with seems interesting. Did I mention that my former office had a pet lobster that went to trade shows with us? Yeah, I guess that's something best shared with a very limited number of people. Anyhoo.....

If you’ve ever wanted to check out what the “PC” from those “I’m a Mac….and I’m a PC,” commercials for Apple might have to say to the world, might I suggest you check out John Hodgeman’s blog. He’s actually pretty hilarious on the Daily Show. Why I am just now learning about him? Do I sense a new be-spectacled nerd boy for me to develop an irrational crush on?

A (not so) Taxing Endeavor

I am feeling waaaay smug this evening because, for the first time in 33 years, I actually completed and filed my taxes All. By. Myself.

The fact that I normally go to H&R Block and pay someone upwards of $100 to file my EZ form for me has finally shamed me into behaving like a big girl and taking care of my very simple taxes. I tell you, for those of us single, dependent-free folks without multiple homes, vehicles or watercraft, extensive stock portfolios or complicated trust funds, taxes are downright simple!

Apparently, I am also due a nice little refund, which I’m hoping will not be immediately handed over to the IRS again when they audit me for filing my taxes completely incorrectly, but we’ll see. I’m going with the “Beth is hopefully smarter than the average bear” way of thinking and hoping I plugged in all of the data correctly. Fingers crossed….

Holy Handicapped Panda Action, Batman!

Oh yes, Loyal Readers, you can be assured I am ALL OVER this story.

May I just call out this sentence summarizing Niu Niu's woes? "Niu Niu's spirits have lifted, the wound has healed and her appetite has basically recovered. But without her left paw, her loss of balance has directly affected her love life," the paper said.

I just don't know what to say about that. I feel like Chandler in the episode of Friends where he's not allowed to mock anything and then bursts out in a mock-filled rage at the end about all of the ridiculous things that went on.

Handicapped pandas + articifical panda limbs + impact on panda sex = WAY TOO MUCH to handle before Beth has had her morning coffee.

Target, your selection is really getting out of hand

As a tried and true book snob, I truly never thought I’d find myself raving about the book section of my local Target, but DAMN Tar-Jay has stepped it up a notch in the literary selection department. Sure they’re still heavy on the trashy airport-sized paperbacks, but one really can’t complain about fiction options in the same place that you buy cat litter, can you?

This weekend I picked up “Love Is a Mix Tape,” which seemed to fill the hole in my heart left by Nick Hornby’s “High Fidelity.” It’s gotten great reviews and Target had it way cheaper than Amazon.com, which gives me yet another reason to love Target to death. First they start selling wine, then they start selling cute jewelry and flare, now legit hipster literary fiction? Target, are you just trying to get my WHOLE paycheck directly deposited to you? Really? What's next, your Target-brand artisinal cheese department?

Oh, I also found “I, Elizabeth” which looked like something that could help furture my newfound historical fiction obsession (Hi, Alert Reader Who Also Likes Historical Fiction, we should talk….).

Visitor report!

Houseguests in the World of Beth are always especially nice treats, and when your guest has known you for (ahem) almost 28 years, it’s even better. Yes, Jenny and I met on the first day of kindergarten and we are STILL friends….proof that once you make nice with the World of Beth there is truly no possible escape plan, EVER.

A fabulous but all-too-short trip was had by all – featuring drunk shopping at Whole Foods, posh martinis and Michael Jackson remixes at Chapel, delish Dim Sum and conveyor-belt sushi, the World’s Smartest Rental Car that discouraged us from taking a trip to Mt. St. Helens, ridiculous trinket shopping at Archie McPhee and several anger-management filled SVU episodes with Detective Stabler.

Special snaps go out to any houseguest as thoughtful as this one that present me with adorable hostess gifts from Daiso – that baby-sized frying pan may have just earned you another 28 years of friendship, amiga. Safe travels home....

Tea-filled resolutions

As I’ve written about previously, 2007’s resolutions were all about making smaller, bite-size goals that I could (get this) actually accomplish.

So far it’s shaping up to be the Year of Drinking More Tea. I may not be able to train for a marathon or enact world peace, but I’m pretty confident I can boil water and drink some tea when put to the test. Receiving this adorable teapot for my birthday has definitely helped the cause.

Enter Remedy Teas, which is the super cute teahouse located just up the street from my house and the object of my latest obsession. More than 150 teas to choose from, plus wall to wall hipsters and funky science-lab-style teapots and mugs. As stated in a review on Yelp!, “If the (Ravenna area) Queen Mary Tearoom had a hipster daughter who was embarrassed by her mom's outfits, she would be Remedy Teas.”

More details and cute pics are found here. Check. It. Out.

Flu. Flu bad. Beth Hate Flu.

I swear Saturday morning I was FINE. Totally FINE. And then it hit me like a truckload of bricks. Really angry bricks. And then the sweating started. And then the freezing started. And then I wanted to sleep for four weeks. And then I realized I had the freakin' flu. I was totally incapacitated by 6:30 that night.

I went online to see what I should take for this and how long I was going to be out for....and that's when I saw this new Flu Facts campaign. Look, it was helpful and all finding out the various symptoms of the flu - it confirmed what I had already suspected, but a few questions spring to mind:


Why is the penguin from Happy Feet advertising anti-viral medication? I mean he's snuggly and all, but....What did it do wrong that it couldn't get on a Happy Meal box like every other Disney character in history?

Anyway. I'm better now. Two Nyquil-heavy days of moaning and aching and whining, but I'm better. I'm still confused about the penguins.

Surprise Gift Alert!

God, I love unexpected gifts!

Can I just discuss the surprise birthday/Valentine's Day care package I recently got from an old junior high amiga? Was it the Valentine's Day-themed Peeps that made it so awesome? No. The yummy smelling spa goodies? Eh. Oh don't get me wrong - it was all good...all of it.

But it was the bag of orange plastic-y "circus peanuts" that made my whole day because the minute I opened that bag and smelled that awful, plastic-y, marshmallow smell I was taken back to high school when we drove around eating those things by the bucketload in my classy glitter green Chevette rocking out to EMF's "Unbelieveable" (noting (siiiiigh) that was before that song become known as "Crumbelievable" and featured on cheese commercials).

Ah, nostalgia is good, folks. But having good friends who have stuck with you through the years is even better.

Thanks Slurpee Drinking Circus Peanut Eating Friend!

You Just Know Me So Darned Well

I love that someone notified me today about a recently-discovered 1,000-pound giant squid by saying:

"You know I can't resist sending you stories about giant creatures of the deep."

And YOU know I can't resist reading about them. Seriously. I still can't stop looking at that thing, no matter how much it freaks me out.

Thanks, alert World of Beth reader!

National I'mAOkayByMyselfTine's Day Coming Up, Folks.

It’s heading up on Valentine’s Day this week, or as we in the World of Beth refer to it, I’mAOkayByMyselfTine’s Day. See, it’s not about being bitter and angry and angsty about couples and soul mates and people who have someone to spoon with as they fall asleep at night (hi, there are 364 other days for that). It’s more about being….a-okay with yourself and your single guy/gal life for at least just one day a year.

QuirkyAlone.com even offers a lovely list of activities for us to do this coming Wednesday, which they’ve deemed “International QuirkyAlone Day.” (Harrumph, that’s got nothin’ on being AOkayByYourselfTIne’s Day in my mind, but whatev….)

Ten Ways to Celebrate International Quirkyalone Day

1. Explore a new part of town—be a tourist in your own city.
2. Throw a slumber party. Particularly fun to rent is Dirty Dancing.
3. Rearrange your furniture.
4. Buy yourself new underwear (throw out all the old ones form the 90s.)
5. Be creative alone, doing whatever it is you like to do (write, paint, sew, upholster furniture, surf, make art of out dryer lint).
6. Be creative with friends and/or a boyfriend/girlfriend/spouse. Have an arts and crafts party or cook a meal together.
7. Buy yourself or a friend a bunch of daisies. Daisies are the official flower of the quirkyalone movement.
8. Volunteer for a cause you believe in.
9. Get cozy in bed with a book. Quirkyalone: A Manifesto for Uncompromising Romantics would of course be a good choice--and/or Letters to a Young Poet by Rainer Maria Rilke (perhaps the original self-help book for quirkyalones) and/or The Vagabond by Colette and/or The Way We Never Were: American Families and the Nostalgia Trap by Stephanie Coontz and/or even The Flaneur by Edmund Wilson.
10. Come to or host a quirkyalone party!

Finally, there was this this piece in the Boston Globe a while back about the rising popularity of single folks, as well as an update from Newsweek on the 20-year anniversary of their famous statement that a 40-year-old single woman was "more likely to be killed by a terrorist" than to ever marry.

Get out there and be A Okay By Yourselves, folks!

You are OUT OF CONTROL, Extreme Makeover Home Edition

Tonight "Extreme Makeover Home Edition" took the "Extreme" part way, way, WAY too seriously. Can I just offer a summary from this week's 2-part episode?

• A Marine needs a new home. (Really, this should be enough, but wait...)
• This Marine saved the lives of two police officers on 9/11. (but wait, there's more)
• After saving the lives of these two cops, the Marine just disappeared, and they were unable to ever thank or acknowledge him. (oh MAN...)
• While working on a sculpture for the Marine's house, (a sculpture, incidently of the American flag) a staffer is injured. (the American flag, people)
• The injured staffer is actually British, making it all the more poignant that he's injured while working on the American flag. (i.e., "We are all Americans...")
• The injured staffer is understandably scared and weeps for most of his ride to the hospital, confessing that his wife is pregnant with TRIPLETS. (Jesus, triplets, people)
• While in the hospital, the injured British worker bravely and sternly tells Ty that he has to promise to "finish the flag" for the Marine. (Again, the injured British worker with TRIPLETS on the way that has been injured while carving an AMERICAN FLAG...)
• Back at the work site, Pauly is presented with a set of flags from the local Marine recruiting group to honor the hero. (This actually isn't too extreme, Pauly cries in Every. Single. Episode.)
• A gospel singer sings "God Bless America" while the local police department raises these three flags on this guys' front yard. (Kleenex is being pulled out by the dozen at this point...)
• On the day of the unveiling, the crowd waiting for the family chants "USA! USA! USA!" There are are American flags up the wazoo and Marines march in formation to escort him to his front door. (I....I....just...)
• When the marine gets to see the new house, he WEEPS. (Yes, he weeps. A big, burly stoic Marine loses it and weeps)
• For the big finale, Ty presents a carved foot locker that he built for the Marine which holds the boots this guy wore on September 11 that still have dust on them from the buildings. Ty then points out that the soles of the shoes are melted. From the heat of the rubble. The shoes. That the Marine. Wore. When he anonymously saved the lives of two police officers. On 9/11.....

Seriously, Extreme Makeover Home Edition, it's TOO MUCH this week. You need to step off for a month or so so that I can pull myself together after this one.

What a difference a day makes

As the story I read this morning states, "Archaeologists in Italy have discovered a couple buried 5,000 to 6,000 years ago, hugging each other."

My first reaction was "AWWWWWWW. That's adorable."

But now, later in the day, I've had time to think (and let the bitterness sink in) and now I'm realizing that apparently EVEN SKELETONS HAVE SOUL MATES AND I DON'T HAVE A SOUL MATE.

t's time to check out Match.com or something before the next headline reads, "Skeleton of single, bitter Seattle woman buried a thousand years ago found surrounded by twenty obese cat skeletons and dozens of bottles of vodka."

The World of Beth Becomes a Character on thirtysomething

So I'm 33 as of yesterday, making me officially "thirtysomething." This makes me think about that awful show from the 80's with the same name. Are we really as old as they seemed on that show? With my rickety self-assembled Ikea furniture it just doesn't seem like I'm able to put myself in the same category as Hope and Michael. They seemed so...adult. She wore pearls for frick's sake.

Ironically for as much complaining and philosophizing as I did leading up to the big 3-0, now that I'm actually in my thirties, I'm feeling pretty young and carefree. Get me, bein' able to eat popsicles for dinner if I want to! Get me, consciously not flossing! I'm on a rampage, world be warned...viva free spirit-edness! Here's to happy hours and twelve dollar manicures and overspending in used book stores!

Anyhoo. I'm babbling.

After celebrating my bid day yesterday over brie, Prosecco, fondue AND an assortment of lovely "pampering"-themed gifts, its time to chill out this weekend and do a bunch of errands....peace out peeps.

Juicy AND Beautiful, that's me...I guess

One of my new year's resolutions was to focus more on pampering and treating my body right, and that seems to be translating to several (not cheap) trips to Sephora and my new favorite spa. So far all I've found out is that pampering is completely, 100 percent addictive and that it's also freakin' expensive, two things that really shouldn't hand in hand if you're a cheapskate like me.

Recently I picked up a little trial size five-pack kit from Juice Beauty, which is all natural and organic and the fact that it was packaged in green apple-colored packaging sold me instantly. I got a wee bit panicky at the fact that my sales gal at Sephora claimed she "absolutely, totally could not live without Juice Beauty's Hydrating Mist." Have I doomed myself by not purchasing a larger size? Will I collapse like a wilted flower on the bus one morning because I lack Hydrating Mist?

Who knew that not being properly pampered was a dangerous business? Here I just thought the worst would be some dry skin and stressed out looking hair.

Posting Secrets

Yeah, I know it's not a big secret, but I forgot just how cool PostSecret is sometimes.

Don't forget they have books to check out too....

One Punk, Under God

Interesting find on the Sundance Channel this weekend - looks like Jay Bakker, son of Jim and Tammy Faye, has his own show about his alterna-church Revolution. I'm not a card carrying member, but I like his approach and the idea behind Revolution:

"To show all people the unconditional love and grace of Jesus without any reservations because of their lifestyle or religious background, past or future. This love has no agenda behind it (I Cor. 13:5). This grace sets no timeline on personal change or standards for spiritual growth (Romans 4:4-5). The idea is to be a part of people’s lives because we truly care for them rather than to fulfill a religious duty; to walk with them through all their struggles as a part of their life, not as a religious outsider."

Seems like a solid answer to the "What Would Jesus Do?" question that too many folks use to shun and punish those who's lives they don't agree with.

I'm just sayin'.

Actually, Kleenex, I prefer to Keep It All Inside

So there I was, flipping through the latest issue of Allure, when I saw this weird ad from Kleenex that featured four very stoic/dead-inside looking people, covered by flaps of paper that opened, revealing alternative pictures of these people as crazed, psychotic, emotional, teary freakshows.

They've come out with this new campaign all around "Let It Out," - which encourages people to stop restraining their emotions and feelings and, well Let It All Out. By weeping openly (and using Kleenex), by getting so angry you barf (and use Kleenex), by laughing until you drool (and, ugh...seek medical counsel?). You get the picture. As a person of Danish ancestry (a group that's not exactly known for its giddy, raucous, emotional outbursts), this concept could not be more foreign to me.

But. Still. Like a good consumer, I trekked on over this morning to Let It Out.com, only to find videos and pictures that Nonstable People have submitted to Kleenex as well as a blog where you can read still more about this weird concept.

First the oval box transformation, now this invitation to abandon social decorum and personal dignity? Kleenex, what's up with you?

Mother Nature Clearly Dropping Acid These Days

You know, like I don't have enough to worry about, Mother Nature throws me a curveball in the form of a prehistoric shark with an eel's body.

Um, if that thing doesn't freak the bejeezus out of you, then you're a brave, hearty soul. I can't even blog about this any more. BLECH.

Apparently the “New Year! New You!” mantra that’s big this time of year doesn’t exactly translate to “New Blog Posts!” from the World of Beth. Okay, okay, I get it. I’m baaaaack! So what has Beth been up to for the past three weeks or so?

Getting snowed in. First two blizzards hit me in Denver, now we’re on our third (or fourth? Fifth?) snowstorm in Seattle of the season. Enough. Seriously.

Reading. Well what the heck else are you supposed to do when you’re snowed in? I’ve plowed through some good books lately, including Hypocrite in a Pouffy White Dress, Bitter is the New Black, Slammerkin and Tulip Fever. Also spending some time on a preppy Republican sorority girl's Website, which is pretty flippin' funny, despite how much I want to smack her sometimes.

Working on the New Me! In the New Year!. Yes, I’m trying to be healthy this year, like everyone else in the free world. I’ve been walking on my treadmill 4-5 times a week and so far I’ve lost three pounds! Yay! Which I gained back this week somehow. Boo! Snaps and props go out to the kind folks at SparkPeople, though, who sent me a kick-ass pedometer, water bottle and t-shirt. You guys rock!

Shopping online. Again, we’ve been snowed in a lot, lately. In addition to massive book-related purchases, I’ve also found Endless.com, which is Amazon’s shoe department extending into a separate website. The kicker is that they offer FREE overnight shipping. Find shoes. Click and buy shoes. Wear shoes the VERY NEXT DAY.

Being outraged by the movie "Friends With Money." Most. Depressing. Film. EVER. It takes a pretty ridiculous, sad, pointless film to make me hate every actress in it, especially since all of them normally kick ass. Catherine, Jennifer, Joan and Francis, I'm talking to you.

'Tis the season for thank you notes

After looking over my posts from this week I'm starting to realize that I sound awfully cranky and whiny, so here is a sorely inadequate list of thank you's that need to go out for folks who have been warm and fuzzy lately and throughout the year:

• To my friends, who don't give up on me when I get all asocial and need my "special alone time," as well as when I get all yakky and hyper and sassy and biotch-y.
• For anyone who has seen me do my "PR laugh" non-ironically and not vomited a little in their mouth
• To anyone who has been present when I announce, loudly, that I am drunk and has not run screaming in the other direction.
• To red wine, for helping me find the path to announcing that I am drunk.
• For the Shar-Pei dog across the yard at my mom's house, who offers me literally hours of amusement while having my morning coffee.
• For my mom, for buying me Starbucks so that I won't have to drink Folger's as my morning coffee.
• For Mrs. Puff, who teaches me in no uncertain terms the importance of not straying too far from home for too long.
• For my jeans, who so far have not miraculously split in half out of protest.
• For Flexcar and Target and Trader Joes, for being there.
• To pandas, otters, harp seals, polar bears and animals that wear clothes, for being so freakishly, ridiculously CUTE.
• To Brie and French bread, just for being you.
• For the loyal readers of the World of Beth, whoever you are, and for whatever it is that keeps you coming back for more.

If the city of Denver were in a movie, it would be played by The Rock these days

While most cities would be MORE THAN content to have just ONE major, crippling holiday blizzard, Denver is apparently a macho muscle-shirt-wearing city that needs to pull out all the stops and have two. In a ROW. Whatever, Denver.

So Beth is trapped - again - at her mom's for another two days*, because I've had to reschedule my flight until Monday morning when hopefully Denver will get over this macho shit and let the damned sun shine in again. Ahem. Sorry. I'm a little wound up. I've found lots of housecleaning projects to occupy my time and have managed too to find some lovely things to blow my gift cards on online, but this is a bit much.

Clearly one has to be careful with what one asks for when they're sitting at there desk at work thinking "Man, all I want is to be on vacation chilling out at my mom's house with absolutely nothing to do." Lesson learned: Be a little more specific and maybe throw in the words "Maui" or "Hugh Grant" if you get the opportunity.

*Um, Mom, if you're reading this, I don't mean to sound ungrateful and tired of hanging out at your lovely home, it's just two weeks was a bit more than I bargained for and I just want to sleep in my normal bed again. Really, you're a lovely mom. Thanks for making tacos last night and for not being judgemental when I went for that second glass of wine.

Excuse me while I whine a bit here

Look, I'm sorry to be a whiny, pouty, irritable little baby right now, but the weather people are predicting another 12-16 inches of snow in Denver to start tomorrow, which will continue right into Saturday , which is right about the time I'm supposed to leave on a giant jet plane and return home.

Which means, if the city is shut down by another blizzard, I could either be stuck in Denver for another 1-3 days or potentially stuck at the airport, which does not make me happy AT ALL.

Which means. Just. Well. It just means I have to feel like a whiny, pouty, irritiable little baby, I guess. It hasn't even started snowing, so I'm just being prematurely panicky and whiny. I get that. I'm tired. I'm sick of frickin' dial up. I hate smelling like an ashtray and I'm starting to miss my bed and my obese cat and my stuff and my life and the thought of being stuck away from it for another 3 days just seems a little overwhelming.

Seriously, Denver, TWO blizzards in a two-week period that coincide with Christmas holiday travel? WTF, Denver? You're on my list, pal. Watch it.

Adventures in Sprawlsville, or How Beth Almost Smacked Someone in the Middle of Kohl's

Ah, suburbia. I've always had a serious love/hate thing going on with the 'burbs and I knew that the decision to spend 12 days smack in the middle of 'em would test the love part big time. Being homebound with nothing to do but (literally) watch it snow for three days sure hasn't helped much.

However, on the positive side, I've started to get out and see the world outside of the beige neighborhoods of Southwest Denver. So far this included a Christmas Eve brunch at Bump and Grind, which is apparently best known for its "Petticoat Bruncheon," which involves a waitstaff composed entirely of drag queens. Honey, nothing makes Beth happier than to be served coffee by a sassy, foul-mouthed drag queen while listening to Britney Spears ON CHRISTMAS EVE. Oh wait, unless it involves getting presents and custom-made CDs and seeing old friends and it DID. I was giddy all morning after that, especially as I drove home listening to "Barenaked for the Holidays" (a holiday album from the Barenaked Ladies, natch) on full blast.

Today Beth and her mom ventured out to see the retail offerings the 'burbs had to offer us, wherein Beth attempted to spend her gift cards IMMEDIATELY and, of course, absolutely nothing even remotely decent was to be found in the stores because Beth had actual money to spend. Sigh. We went into Kohl's to look for cheap Christmas flare at 50 percent off and I was so outraged by the snotty teenage girls that I actually got up in one's face and said "Seriously?" all intense and scary/snarky-like. God knows if she had so much as looked at me directly I would have turned and run right back to my mommy and hid. Still, I felt tough. At least as tough as one can feel in a Kohl's in Littleton on the day after Christmas with their mom.

More reports from Sprawlsville to come....

Homebound: Day 3

Sweet baby Jesus there's a lot of snow here in Colorado! I have amusing pictures to post of just how bad it is, but forgot my camera cord, so y'all will have to stay tuned until after the new year when I get back home to Seattle.

I'm pleased to report that Beth made it home safe and sound just three scant hours before Blizaard 2006 whapped the city upsite the head with a can of Whup Ass. So far it's been two straight days of sitting in front of the TV watching 9News and eating giant M&M cookies from Safeway.We're on to day 3 now and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't going a wee bit stir crazy. I've read a book, cleaned and reorganized my mom's kitchen pantry, chatted with the dead bartender in the ballroom, and packed up a carload of things to take to Goodwill once the roads are clear. Let's GO, Department of Transportation, I'm getting BOOOORRRRRED, here.

More to post, perhaps if I ever get out of the house, but just wanted to throw out a quick holla to my peeps and let them know I'm alive. Bored, but alive. Stay tuned!

Light at the End of the Tunnel

In the spirit of offering hope and goodwill for the new year, I'd like to mention the Backwards Bush Countdown Site so that we can all watch as the seconds tick down to a Dubya-free White House. Shop, download a screen saver or even add the countdown to your blog as yours truly has already done.

Pour yourself a cup of organic holiday cheer, take out the recycling, renew your subscriptions to the Utne Reader and Mother Jones and Bust and other liberal-lefty magazines, and watch the numbers tick down. There. Doesn't that feel better?

If you're still not convinced, here are some more reasons to love the site and its products:

• Wearing one around your neck helps to keep Republicans away and smells much better than garlic.
• Purchasing a BackwardsBush keychain instantly qualifies you for "Enemy Combatant" status.
• Now that Bush has his judges on the bench, the keychains will most likely soon be illegal (and therefore a collector's item).
• Unlike Bush, our keychain has a 100% approval rating.
• You might as well spend your money on a keychain now, because if social security gets privatized, you won't have any money left!!!
• If you're reading this, the NSA is most likely already spying on you, so you might as well make it worth it!!!
• Backwards Bush proudly supports Save the Children.

A SparkPeople Shoutout

It would be downright un-American of me not to want to start the new year off with the resolution to be healthier and more active in 2007, so I’m passing along this little gem of a Website onto my loyal readers in case they’re wanting to do the same.

SparkPeople is free (cheapskates rejoice!) and is one of the comprehensive and legit diet/fitness sites out there from what I can tell. Plus it offers up customized weekly meal plans, grocery lists, exercise plans and more goal charting resources than I can get my head around. Plus, a Best Of The Web award from BusinessWeek ain't bad either.

The Bad Movie Marathon Continues

Today, while nursing a fierce hangover that nearly crippled me and made me retarded, I caught up on my Cheesy God-Awful Christmas Movie Obsession. Today's movie was "Santa Baby," a made-for-TV offering for the ABC Family Channel (strike one) which starred Jenny McCarthy (strike two) as a high powered corporate consultant type who is, um, Santa's daughter (strike three).

I have to confess that the main reason I Tivo-ed this movie is that it was directed by Ron Underwood, who I mistook for Ron Livingston, who is the guy who played Peter Gibbons from Office Space. My bad. My really bad.

In a nutshell, Santa has a heart attack, Mrs. Claus phones up her sort-of estranged city slicker daughter and asks her to come home and help out the family business this year. Santa is played by George Wendt which I was skeptical about (would Santa be a barfly?), but he was quite charming actually. You GO, former Norm, with your charming made-for-TV movie self!

And, in another nutshell, my hangover is finally clearing up at now 6:16 on Sunday night while I'm sipping some Detox tea and trying to squeeze some productivity into what's left of the day.

Apologies in advance to Dolly Parton

Recently my friends and I gathered around a loaf of bread, a jug of wine, and the CMT holiday movie “A Smoky Mountain Christmas,” starring (and co-written by) Dolly Parton.

I realize that making snarky comments about Dolly Parton is a risky business, because after all, that woman is as sweet as a soft caramel melting in hot chocolate poured over a cupcake served in a bowl of powdered sugar and as wholesome as a kitten wrapped around a harp seal pup tucked inside of a rainbow guarded by unicorns, but I’m going to have to go out on a limb and say, Dolly, honey, your movie was freakin’ weird.

On the most basic level, the move was a variation on Snow White set during the holidays. Except the dashing prince was known as “Mountain Dan” and played by Lee Majors (hi, Bionic Man!) wearing the World’s Worst Fake Beard EVER. And the dwarves were instead orphans dressed in Depression-era clothes who may or may not have been related even though one of them was black and none of the others were. And the only black orphan was named “String Bean” which was also weird, because none of the other orphans had folksy names, but were instead named “Josh,” “Mary,” “Freddie,” etc. And the fact that, now that I think about it, everyone in the quaint mountain town were dressed in Depression-era clothes which seemed especially disorienting because the movie was, after all, set in the (then) present day of 1986. Seriously, no one could ship a box of Pac-Man or Miami Vice t-shirts to the Ozarks for these residents?

Overall, I guess, sort of, kind of, the movie wasn't that bad. It was a Dolly Parton Christmas movie after all and you get to watch her sing and play the guitar with her ginormous fake nails and giggle and say those Mountain People sayings that she’s famous for. It’s good times as long as you’re not looking for something, say, coherent.

I’d like to close by calling out a review of “A Smoky Mountain Christmas” from alert North Carolinian Amazon.com reviewer J. White who says: “The story is a bit hoakey, but I don't mind it since it is a good story with no political correctness or other garbage such as the A Very Muppet Christmas was laden with.”

Yup. Thanks J. White. I sense another blog post comin’ up quicker than a gathering of ants after a spill of honey mixed with molasses and maple syrup stirred with sweet Carolina tea.

You don’t dis the Muppets and get away with it on MY watch, pal.

Do not resist the otters. Don't even try.

I realize I have a THING for super-ultra-mega cute things, therefore I’m contractually obligated to draw your attention to CuteOtters.com, which is apparently the new sister site (sort of) for Cuteoverload.com.

Just try to look away. Try not to giggle like a little school girl when you see them nibble their lunch off of their tummies. Just try.

Dude, you know you want to just smother them with kisses. Yes, even YOU, tough guy reading this blog in jail. EVEN YOU.

The trip to the ninth circle of hell (Bellevue Square) was worth it in the end

Beth is feeling smug today. Last night, Beth went shopping. Shop, Beth, Shop! Beth found lots of nice professional clothes to wear to work. Because every piece of clothing she bought was 50 percent off, plus an additional 40 percent, (dude, I know!) Beth ended up saving a ridonculous amount of money, while still coming away with a schnazzy navy blue velvet blazer from Ralph Lauren in the process. Save, Beth, Save!

Now Beth’s feeling both well-dressed AND financially savvy. And smug. Very smug. Gloat, Beth, Gloat!

Curse you, Hallmark Channel! CURSE YOU!

In making this confession, I realize I’m scrapping any sense of hipster/indie-film-fan street cred I ever had. And I didn’t have much to begin with, folks. But (deep breath) my name is Beth, and I’ve been Tivo-ing an alarming amount of Christmas movies from both the Hallmark Channel and Lifetime this holiday season.

(World at Large: “Hi Beth.”)

We’re not even talking kitschy retro movies like Emmet Otter’s Jugband Christmas (truly, the best holiday movie EVER), we’re talking movies with hokey soundtracks and appalling scripts about city slickers that learn to love Small Town Life and the Importance of Family over Christmas.

I need help. I need to re-watch Sid and Nancy and recapture my bitter inner film snob. Maybe after one more Hallmark Original movie though...

Introducing...Tready!

The World of Beth introduced a new family member into her home last week - Tready the Treadmill! Tready lives in my living room and enjoys it when I take him for walks. So far I'm trying to go for 30-minute walks with Tready every day, but sometimes Tready kicks my ass and makes me feel like a 98-year-old woman after I'm done with him. I've learned I need to tread lightly with Tready or else I will hurt the next morning. He's spiteful like that.

Yes folks, it's the end of the year and that means Beth is ramping up for new year's resolutions - in this case it's "Shape Up In 2007," my committment to not being Fatty McFatterson at this time next year. Going for daily walks seemed like a good first step - hence the adoption of Tready.

Even Mrs. Puff seems to enjoy Tready, or rather she seems not too be terrified with it, which I take to be a good sign. Perhaps I could even get her furry fat bottom onto Tready and we could walk together? Bring it on, 2007, this girl's ready.

If Rocky Balboa can go to battle in his sixties, then surely I can commit to a brisk walk in the evenings, right? Right? (Desperate whimper) Right?

A Conversation With Daiso

Beth: Thanks very much for joining me today, Daiso. All too often I write open letters to random things but today the idea occurred to me to interview them instead. Especially when these random things are as FREAKIN' FABULOUS as you are, Daiso.

Daiso: It's my pleasure. Nice to be here. Please stop touching me.

Beth: Oh, sorry. I'm excited. You were really, really cool. Anyway. Recently I paid you a visit at the Alderwood Mall....

Daiso: Yes, I remember you. Saturday night, right?

Beth: Omigod, that's right! You saw me? You remembered me? (blushing) Wow, that's so cool. I really enjoyed meeting you, Daiso. I admit I wasn't sure what to expect, but you were so much cooler than I could have imagined.

Daiso: (squirming uncomfortably) Yes, I get that a lot. Could you sit a little farther away from me?

Beth: But Daiso, you're dreamy. You're like a Japanese dollar store, isn't that right? (Daiso nods). But you're more than that. Of course you are. I mean, an American dollar store wouldn't sell packages of tissues with sleeping kittens on them, would it? God, all American dollar stores sell are dented cans of soup and Nag Champa incense and discontinued household cleaners. They're not like you, Daiso. They're not all kitschy and cute and cool and authentic and awesome.

Daiso: You're very kind. I do feature an extensive selection of Japanese ceramics such as teapots and sake pitchers, chopsticks, snacks, household cleaners, decorations, stationary and tupperware-like items all for around $1.50 each. Some items are as high as $3.00, but most are in that $1.50 range.

Beth (sighing): You were fabulous, Daiso. Seriously.

Daiso: I have to go now. I'm very crowded and you're creeping me out.

Beth: I'm going to tell all my readers about you, Daiso. I want them to know how much I love you so that they can love you too. Please don't go. I want to look at more rice paddles with bunny rabbits on them and miso soup bowls with tiny fitting lids. I want more of you, Daiso!

Daiso: Again, I'm flattered. But I'm a chain store in Alderwood Mall. It would never work out between us. Please, just visit me occassionally.

Beth: Oh I will, Daiso. I will. I hope to see you very soon.

Daiso: You're a strange woman.

Beth: Yes, I get that a lot.

Crazy Cat Lady Alert

Yeah, it's my cat in a dress. You got a problem with that?

Nine Nifty Lessons learned this weekend in Portland

1.) Tax-free shopping = GOOD
2.) Tater tots with ranch dressing = SUPER
3.) Holiday Ale Festival taking place downtown = FANTASTIC
4.) “Blizzard of Oz” ale at said festival = NOT GOOD. NOT GOOD AT ALL.
5.) Being sober(ish) in a room of about 1,000 really drunk people = NOT SO GOOD EITHER.
6.) Getting lost on the way home, in the cold and the dark = SERIOUSLY BAD TIMES
7.) Finding a local chapter of the Elks Club and having them call us a cab = A CHRISTMAS MIRACLE
8.) Knowing that in order to get that cab at 11 p.m. it’s likely that someone in our group had to flirt with an Elks Club member = SAD
9.) Safe arrival home, with garlic bread and brie afterwards = HAPPY TIMES

Ah well....

Sigh. Twelve days, folks - I lasted for twelve days as part of the blog-every-day-in-November project and clearly I just wasn't up to the task. I tried, I really did. Ah well...

So I'm back from the Mile High homeland where I gnawed on turkey wings, enjoyed The Olive Garden's hospitaliano, slurped wine and oysters at one kick-butt happy hour, pondered the future of social security via my dad's impromptu poll and generally sat in stunned amazement at how much Broncos fever Denverites have. I always think I'll be prepared for the Broncopaloozaness and every time I am taken aback at the ferocity of the Broncos fans. Ah well...

So it's a snow day today for most of the Seattle metro area. I'm must officially be a Seattleite now because I now find myself panicking and sweating and slobbering like a lunatic at the mere thought of snow rather than using common sense and my Colorado roots to take it all in stride. Ah well....

Time to make some tea and get back to staring at the window at the white stuff...

The Wurst is the Best!

In Check Out What I Found While I Was Surfing Yesterday-news, I present the Wurst Gallery, an online art gallery based out of Portland. I particularly enjoyed the "vintage vandals" category and if the world's not careful, I might have to head to Goodwill and remake some bad paintings myself.

Do I sense some unusual and wacky Christmas presents in the works? Hmmmmm.......(insert evil cackle here)

An "Ugly" Posting

Every now and then you find something on TV so ridiculous - so mind-boggling crazy that you find yourself hitting the TiVO rewind button over and over and over just to prove to yourself that something that patently ridiculous was actually broadcast on television.

Case in Point: Entertainment Tonight's "Investigation" that people generally respond better to pretty people than ugly people. To summarize fairly quickly, they dressed Vanessa Minnillo up as the lead character on ABC's "Ugly Betty" and made her go out and ask strangers to assist her with a survey. Turns out no one wanted to help her. Then she got all super glammed up and people were falling over themselves to help her.

This set-up gets a gigantic W-to-the-T-to-the-F from me to begin with, but as the video shows, even before Vanessa gets her fat-suitted/uglified self out the door, she starts breaking down at the terrifying prospect of actually being (gasp!) ugly in the outside world. "What do you think is the most beautiful part of yourself," someone asks from behind the camera. She replies her heart (Awwwww, good answer!) but then, upon looking at herself, she starts to cry because, in her own words, "PEOPLE HAVE TO GO THROUGH THIS EVERY DAY." (Oh my GAHHHH...)

Yes, Vanessa, we are truly a brave and hardy bunch, those of us who are not professional entertainment gossip show anchors. It is an emotional challenge every day for the tragically affected other 99.99 percent of non-gorgeous humanity to leave our dark caves of isolation and subject ourselves to the horrors of being a non supermodel. Oh, the horror.

But then. Siiiiigh. Vanessa gets her composure and says that "It's sad but that's what I feel is the most beautiful thing on me right now," (i.e., her heart). Yes, Vanessa, that IS sad. It would have been so much nicer to be able to say the most beautiful part of you was, say, your ribbed abs, but instead you had to reflect inward and find a part of yourself that shows who are you and what makes you unique and wonderful. That sucks, dude.

Ugly people are the worst.

More Reasons to Love the Seattle Public Library

A while back I had a light bulb moment, which would have been more impressive if the rest of the world hadn’t had the exact same moment about five years ago before me. I’ve recently been discovering the joys of getting CDs from the library. Way to expand your music collection – FOR FREE – and enjoy artists that you might not ordinarily listen to. Again, FOR FREE.

As further validation of just how cool Seattle’s downtown library is, I’ve been able to track down all sorts of good indie alterna-goodies, including The Delgados, Pedro the Lion, Whiskeytown, Aimee Mann, Damien Jurado, Tegan & Sara – hell, even the new Duran Duran and an old best-of Dolly Parton CD. Can I mention again I got these for FREE and that YOU CAN TOO?

Sure the selection is hit or miss and you’ve got to wrestle with the hard core music geek boys that linger waaaay too long in front of the shelves you want to check out, but as one that’s been hitting up used book stores for years, it’s all par for the course. Hard to complain when I’m finding CDs I would normally pay good money for, for FREE.

Seattle Public Library, if I haven’t told you lately, I heart you.

Beth's Holiday Shopping Guide 2006

Several of you have been hounding the World of Beth and asking what I’d like for Christmas. That’s cool. I like that. I’ve been doing the same thing to ya’ll right back, I guess. A helpful guide for your holiday Beth-centered shopping:

Good ideas:
Movie gift cards, especially for Landmark theaters
An unusual “something-of-the-month” club subscription
Kitchenware and home decor items from Anthropologie
Funky jewelry or home-related items from Urban Outfitters
Gift certificate for a class or workshop in any of the following topics: cooking/wine, painting, photography, yoga, creative writing
A really nice coffee mug
Houseplants
A pamphlet of your favorite recipes that you and your family enjoy often
A cool new journal from Ex Libris Anonymous
Yarn of YOUR choosing for me to make a toasty scarf for you in return

Less-than-good ideas:
Reptiles
Tapestry-covered luggage
Flavored coffees or coffee creamers
Ceramic animals and/or angels and/or patriotic-or religious-themed figurines
Fleece clothing
Antifreeze
Sweatshirts/T-shirts with kittens, wolves, hummingbirds or sports teams on them
Anything at all with a cat or kitten on it.

Fun with Food!

Loyal Readers of the World of Beth have requested more hilarious commentary about wacky foods. Apparently y'all really enjoyed the chocolate-chip-pancake-wrapped-sausage example from a while back. Sickos.

First off, I need to give props where props are due - to Not Martha, who is ALL OVER this topic. She's actually the one that tipped me off to the pancake/sausage combo and she's also the one that pointed out this ready-made Tur-Duc-Hen to me.

Oh yes. You heard me. Don't tell me you haven't ever wanted to enjoy a ready-made frozen turkey stuffed with duck stuffed with chicken stuffed with shrimp and crayfish. On second thought, don't tell me if you ever HAVE wanted that. The idea makes me throw up just a wee bit in my mouth.

But anyhoo - fun with food! More to come.....

The Best Dollar Store EVAH. Maybe?

It's came to my attention a while back that waaaay up North in Lynnwood's Alderwood Mall there's a dollar store known as Daiso. Since I've not been to check this out in person yet, I'm curious what all is involved here.

Has anyone been yet? Is it full of the adorable Japanese trinkets and unusual foodstuffs that my creative brain is imagining? Or is it more like our American dollar stores, with their sad shower caps and chipped angel figurines?

Yuppie Foodies Unite

From the “It’s About Freakin’ Time, Folks,” files, I’m pleased to report that the new Westlake/Denny Whole Foods is opening on Wednesday! I'm fairly certain that I've been driving by the construction site for this store since early 1984, so it's nice to see they've finally gotten around to finishing it.

Bring on the paycheck-vaporizing grocery bills!

Read local paper's account of the new store here.

Commonly Asked Questions About Spitesgiving

Yesterday afternoon the World of Beth celebrated its second annual Spitesgiving Feast, and we've put together a handy FAQ list for you, gentle readers, so that you can learn more about this terrific, spiteful holiday.

What exactly is Spitesgiving?
Spitesgiving is a holiday where participants gather with friends, enjoy a roast beast, discuss all of things they regret and/or are bitter about and then gear up for the holiday season ahead of them.

Um, isn’t that sort of like Thanksgiving?
Um, no. You don’t give thanks at Spitesgiving. You give spite. And bitterness. And woe. Lots of woe.

Isn’t that a little dysfunctional and sad?
Face it, the holidays are a little dysfunctional and sad, aren’t they? So before you cram yourselves onto an oversold plane or train or automobile to travel thousands of miles to see your family, with their inappropriate, slightly racist, humor and binge drinking, who will no doubt harass you about why you haven’t gotten married/had a baby/bought a house/become more like your more successful sister or brother/gotten off smack (and so on), wouldn’t it be nice to have an outlet to prepare you for that?

When is Spitesgiving held?
It’s a flexible holiday. Spitesgiving is breezy. A good rule of thumb is a few weeks before Thanksgiving.

Sorry, but I'm still confused. If all you do is sit around and complain, how is Spitesgiving truly a special holiday? What makes it different from, say, a normal Tuesday?
Look, you're missing the point here. It's about more than just complaining and being whiney. Well, okay, maybe its not. Did I mention you get to eat roast beast? By putting formal traditions together around our collective bitterness, we've created an outlet for healing and a sense of community. Plus its an opportunity to think of really disgusting things that we can make Eric eat.

Okay, I guess I'm sold. What all is involved with Spitesgiving?
There are several traditions associated with this holiday. The day begins with the Gathering of People With Issues. Then comes the Random Shouting Out of Things We Are Spiteful About. Before the meal, then there is the Ceremonial Tasting of Something Truly Foul. Then the group toast, or the C’mon Guys Everyone Go Around And Say Two Things They Are Most Spiteful About, Seriously. Then there is the Devouring of the Roast Beast. Followed by the Burning of Sage and Beginning of the Healing Process.

What should I wear to Spitesgiving?
Ideally, you should wear a sweatshirt that features a disgruntled, angry looking turkey on it. The turkey should ideally be flipping someone the bird (no pun intended).

Get me!

Okay, well, so I didn't blog yesterday, but today I'm blogging about yesterday, and in Bizarro Beth World, that counts enough to not ruin my attempt to support November's BloMoPo....whatever. I'm feeling smug because last night while entertaining some guests I made Szechan Green Beans, Thai Chicken Lettuce Wraps and Peanut Noodles. AND no one secretly spat the food into their napkins. That I could see. Get ME, bein' gourmet and social!

However, I'm feeling bummed because yesterday I stayed home from work to await the delivery of a studly new (um, used, actually) treadmill that I found on Craigslist and no one ever showed up with it. Get ME, attemptin' fitness! Get ME, havin' good intentions but not bein' able to actually execute them!

I will say that my New Balance rock star "off road" running shoes purchased this week are cushioning the blow a bit. Who cares if I will never in a gabillion years run "off road" and will more than likely only wear these shoes to the mall to buy elastic waist black pants. I will at least be able to maintain the facade of being active and sporty. Get me, livin' in my own little private fantasy world!

Stabler Versus Goren, the Debate Rages

It’s no secret that I’m a wee bit obsessed with Law and Order SVU and Law and Order CI. I’ve had multiple conversations with folks about my little problem, and without fail the discussion always turns to the red-hot debate of Who Is The Hotter Investigator – Detective Bobby Goren of CI, or Detective Elliott Stabler of SVU? As someone suggested recently, it’s like the next generation of the Ginger versus Mary Ann debate.

For this gal, hands down, it’s Detective Goren. No question. He’s all weird and socially inept and uber-tall and brilliant and insightful about totally random stuff. How could you not heart him? Yeah, I know Stabler’s all masculine and steely-jawed, but he lacks the insight and the sensitivity of Goran. Goran's like this gigantic freakshow/autistic teddy bear that you just want to snuggle up with. Plus there was that one episode where Stabler showed off his way-too-tiny speedo underwear and that just tramautized me off of him for good.

Where do YOU stand on this debate?

NaBloPoMo, like you've never NaBloPoMoed before, World at Large

It’s November and apparently the world is blogging every single day this month, in honor of NaBloPoMo, so I’m joining in. I actually enjoy this idea, and do agree that it’s a lot less intimidating that cranking out a novel in 30 days. I

f I can’t come up with something to whine about or an embarrassing story of Mrs. Puff to share with total strangers, then I just need to amp up the creativity big time. Stay tuned! See how long Beth’s commitment will actually last...