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Christmas music that I like.

Wednesday, December 26th, 2012

People think I am a Cranky Sue who hates all Christmas music because Jewish holidays are lame and don’t have any fun music. That is, in fact, true, but that not why I get a perma-frown starting the day after Thanksgiving. It’s because most Christmas music sucks. It’s just awful all over. I dream of the day when I become elderly and senile and no longer have any recollection of Dominic the Donkey. But there are a few really stellar Christmas songs, songs I enjoy so much I listen to them all year ’round. I know Christmas is technically over, but these songs are great, so feel free to file them away wherever you file this kind of stuff away for next year.

CollegeHumor // Rudolph the Regular Reindeer

Ceelo // All I Need Is Love

Mariah Carey, Jimmy Fallon and The Roots // All I Want For Christmas Is You

South Park // Merry F***ing Christmas

Dr. Demento // The Twelve Pains of Christmas

Inpatient Music Therapy Program // O Come All Ye Faithful

Whitney Houston // Joy to the World

Steve Mauldin // O Holy Night (The Worst Rendition Ever)

Yogi Yorgesson // Yingle Bells

They Might Be Giants // Santa’s Beard

Justin Bieber featuring Busta Rhymes // Little Drummer Boy

Elvis // Blue Christmas

Ben Folds Five // Bizarre Christmas Incident

Lindsay Buckingham // Holiday Road

South Park // O Holy Night

Handel’s Messiah // Epic Fail

Wesley Willis // Merry Christmas

If that isn’t enough and you have a craving for some of the best worst Christmas music, this list is the be-all and end-all. Enjoy.

April Winchell’s Christmas Music List

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Santacon 2012.

Wednesday, December 19th, 2012

Since I don’t appreciate bar culture and didn’t start drinking until I was in my late twenties, I’ve never participated in any kind of alcohol-related festivity, like St. Patrick’s Day for example. However, my co-worker Nessa told me she was going to Santacon and I should join her. I figured, hey, I would have friends around me as a human shield to protect me from the inebriated masses and I could dress up like an idiot, so I decided to participate.

I wanted to look slutty (not sexy, like a sexy elf or sexy reindeer, slutty, there’s a difference), but it’s cold out, so I decided to clearly delineate precisely where my primary and secondary sexual organs are via the use of brightly colored fabric. I bought a red shirt and used green glitter glue to stick sequins in heart shapes over my bosomy parts. Then, I took a sparkly Santa hat, cut it apart, and made myself a loincloth of sorts with felty green poofs stuck on it. This way, I was still trashy while still wearing leggings, pants and a sweater. I called myself The Christmas Flasher. Please to also notice the “hot holiday mess” makeup and the antler headband.

We had a lovely brunch in Astoria and then got on the train to Midtown. Nessa had bought a pair of fairy wings that I painted in festive red and green, so she was a jaunty fairy elf.

When we got to Manhattan, there was a million billion Santas everywhere. On the corners, in the buildings, everywhere.

Most of them were wearing basic Santa costumes, but some people got very creative.

This man was dressed as a Squid Santa. I was super-excited about that. Him, less so.

There was a Santa that was 7’1″. He was an easy guy to find.

This is a nice picture, but the photobomb behind it makes it even better.

Nessa took this in an attempt to have street cred.

While I had a nice time all day, it was not my ideal social event. I don’t really appreciate standing around for five hours slowly sipping various alcoholic and non-alcoholic beverages. I danced for a while, but other than that, I didn’t know what to do with myself. Luckily, as the other Santas got more and more bombed, they provided me with entertainment. I got to see something I had only heard about as lore. Two young men who were relatively short and therefore compensated by working out too much, attempting to fight but, being challenged by all kinds of gravity, looked like they were slow-dancing to oddly tempo-ed music. And the entire time both of them are slurring, “I love you, man!” “No, I love you, man!” I snapped one photo of them as their equally loaded friend tried to break them up.

Now that I have had this experience, I don’t really feel the need to go again, but if I would be going to super-cool dancing facilities or something next Santacon, I would make myself a big red cape festooned with holiday goodness that I could wear over my clothes and not be cold. Consider that as an option if you go.

Additional niblet: I was outside a Broadway theater when Dan Stevens came out! Teh Hottnezz from Downton Abbey! I posed with him for a photo and promptly stabbed him in the face with my antlers. Luckily he wasn’t mad and I took a photo with him without my antlers robbing him of one of his greatest assets.

Posted in My Art/Design/Business, New York, Random Art Bloggery, Stuff | No Comments »

My big foray into sports.

Monday, December 17th, 2012

About a month and a half ago, I was hangin’ at the office, doing what I do, photoshopping out people’s under-eye bags and acne scars for documents we send to clients, and my boss contacted me and told me we were pitching something related to the NFL. The New England Patriots, to be specific. For those who are big fans of this team, they may be available for betting on pages like WSM Casino. Online casinos also offer a wide variety of slot games. There are various slot gacor games offering exciting rewards and thrilling gameplay that sports fans can enjoy. Check out mpo888 for exciting rewards and prizes!

Afterwards, he asked me if I was available to go to Foxboro, Massachusetts and photograph the Patriots at their stadium that weekend. I said, “Is there no one here who knows anything, literally, anything about football who can go, because I will get confused and take pictures in the bathroom the whole time?” But he said no, he wanted me. He asked me if I wanted anyone to go with me, and I said no because I cannot think of any friend of mine that would leap at an opportunity to drive with me for seven hours to go and sit in a cold stadium for five hours filled with tipsy sporting folk. Not a one. So on Sunday morning, I woke up before the sun came up (grrr), got in my car, and took I-95 to Foxboro. Where I then encountered stadium traffic.

Hey, fun fact I would have appreciated knowing beforehand: parking is $40.00 cash. I did not have $40.00 in cash on me when I arrived. Thus began my mad dash around to find an ATM, which eventually I did, and luckily I found a nearby spot so I could sprint into the stadium and catch the team doing stretches and drills (my boss specifically asked for photos of that). Here’s the stadium from my parking spot.

Before I got to the parking area, I took some photos of tailgaters. I was extremely concerned for my safety. My boss kept calmly saying things like, “Just let me know if you get arrested, we have money set aside for your bail and we’ll send someone up there to get you out.” I was like, what, are you sending me into Kabul, what the hell? And people were informing me that the Patriots fans are… enthusiastic, and when that enthusiasm is combined with beer, things happen. So when I was taking shots of the tailgaters, I was seriously worried that they would whip a battery at me or something. I have never been in a fight so I don’t know correct fighting protocol and would probably screw it up. Luckily, nothing happened. Everyone was perfectly nice.

I learned a lot that day. Did you know there’s a whole social event going on underneath the seating area? There’s stores and bars and sometimes mascots, all kinds of things. It’s extremely well-laid-out.

I asked a nice man where my seat was, and he pointed to a giant walkway.

I took that all the way up for forever and ever. My seat, had it been one row further back, would have been outside the stadium. Nosebleed indeed.

As I was walking up, I was taking pictures of every branded bit of whatever could find. And then I was stopped by security guards and had to explain my lamey-lame reason (“Ummm, we’re pitching a client, and we need pictures of NFL players, specifically this team, sooooo here I am”).If you would like to like to bet on sports games or play various online casino slots, you may use this joker123 login. Those who are planning to try other sports like archery, look for a shop that offers high quality equipment and gear like a bow string.

Before the game, I was told to take pictures of The New England Patriots warming up. The New England Patriots, got it? Here’s the problem – the Buffalo Bills were wearing blue and white, while the New England Patriots were wearing white and blue. The outcome: I took pictures of the wrong team for a good fifteen minutes.

When I got back, my co-workers scoffed at me and said why didn’t I look at the logos on their helmets? First of all, I was sitting a million frikkin’ miles away. Two, I didn’t know what their logos were, and from a distance they kind of looked like this:

Really similar, even if I did know what I was looking at (I watch a great deal of nature programs, so I would like to think had I been closer I would have figured out the bison is a bison and then used the process of elimination). Once I figured out which team I was supposed to be photographing, it was about time for them to go back into their tunnels to get ready to make their entrance. I ran down two or three levels in order to position myself.

My boss asked for both video and photo of the Patriots coming out, so I assumed that there would be some kind of build-up, like at ice hockey game so I could get my gear in order. Here’s an example.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8HvIbJ0v_c4

Nope. Music started (“Crazy Train” by Ozzy) and they just ran out. I said something along the lines of “Holy crap!!” and snapped as many pictures as I could. I got a decent one that has the mascot in it too.

I noticed a giant coiled-up object in the corner and I could not for the life of me figure out what it was.

Since this was Veteran’s Day, this object was carried out by all manner of military members, and eventually I figured out that it was an enormous American flag. It took them a really long time to get it all the way out.

It looked great when it was all unfolded. I may have gotten some patriotic dust in my eye during the national anthem.

The man next to me could tell I was an out-of-touch tourist, so he informed me that following the national anthem, there would be “a fly-ovah”. And there was, the dumpiest plane I have ever seen. I’ve never seen a plane with a gut before.

After that there was the coin toss and during that I scuttled back up to my seat to take pictures of the scoreboard:

And the stadium in its entirety:

And fans reacting happily to various outcomes.

I liked some of the fan gear. These two people in particular.

I think my primary expression was, “Oh, I guess something just happened.” Here’s a problem that needs a resolution: In one endzone, it says Patriots. And in the other endzone, it says Patriots. You think maybe you can put Visitor in the other endzone so I know who’s scoring the touchdown kthx? In addition, there are Paul-Revere-looking guys standing near the endzones, I believe they are called Minutemen, and when something happens they fire muskets. No one told me there would be muskets firing. Those guns went BLAMBLAM-BLAM-BLAMBLAM and I immediately thought, “Now I’m going to die because Bane from The Dark Knight just took over the stadium and I am slow and therefore will be crushed by the panicked stampede of people attempting to get out,” but no one else reacted, so I looked around like, “No one else? No one’s leaving? O… kay, I guess it’s…. a football thing, then.”

The cheerleaders were fun. They did three costume changes. In the beginning, I suppose because it was Veteran’s Day, they came out in “Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy from Company B” outfits.

They clumped up at one point and I couldn’t figure out what they were doing.

Then I looked at the screen. How delightful! Nice work, ladies.

After that they switched to typical-looking cheerleader outfits. I found myself clapping for their abs.

And finally, they came out in velour tracksuits.

They were excellent and I loved that their primary dance move was a hair flip. I’m not criticizing, they were amazing at it. Here’s some footage of them doing some of that, starting at 5:04:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R3zEEAX1XME

Now I have been to an NFL game. I can cross that off my bucket list of things that were not on my bucket list.

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Handmade things for Christmas.

Monday, December 10th, 2012

I am a big proponent of buying handmade crafts for the holidays, so I went on Etsy and found a bunch of stores selling things that I think are really beautiful. Maybe this will help you if you have a hard-to-shop-for friend or relative.

MadeWithClayAndLove

Super-cute tiny little polymer figures. That’s it. I especially love the stegosaurus with hearts for spine-plates.

PennyFabricArt

I had never heard of temari balls before, but they are an embroidered ball from Japan. They have really nice intricate patterns, and PennyFabricArt makes them and they are very lovely. Might be a good gift for someone who likes math or fractals.

KBShimmer

Fantastical nail polish is a thing right now, so people are making their own nail polish concoctions. KBShimmer does that as well as making her own soaps and scrubs and bath bombs. The nail polishes look really awesome (golly gosh, I love glitter so much) and the soaps are swirly and enticing.

AMNFlamework

This person only has nine things for sale in their store, but those nine things are terrific. The flameworked griffin is particularly nice, with the color transitions. It’s looks like it’s made from sugar.

Montabahn

And finally, the best darn pastie shop ever. Pasties, in case you don’t know, is what burlesque dancers wear over their nipples an areolas to maintain some secrecy in their performances. Also, at the Mermaid Parade, ladies were rockin’ seastar versions as they walked down the boardwalk. They’re usually very basic, but Montabahn is taking it up a notch. I want to get invited to situations where I can wear them so I have an excuse to purchase them. Heck, I wish I was a housecat so I could wear three sets at once. That is how much I like them.

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Belgium for Thanksgiving 2012, Part 1.

Friday, November 30th, 2012

I think I have lived in America too long. I consider myself an open-minded person, but after a week in Europe I realize that the puritanical values America is famous for have rubbed off on me in a big way. Let me tell you about my first 36 hours in Belgium. Remember a bunch of posts ago when I wrote about Tardar Sauce the Grumpy Cat? While walking around the streets of Belgium, I made a specific Grumpy-Cat face every time I was confronted with a big chunk of political incorrectness, which I will place here periodically for emphasis.

I arrived in Belgium at 9:00 a.m., and as soon as The Moomins and I got off the plane we headed to the major train station so we could go to a city called Tongeren. We went because it’s the oldest city in Belgium, but more importantly it has an enormous antiques market on Sunday. The train station we had to transfer in was beautifully-designed and airy:

While we were there we grabbed some late-ish breakfast (fantastic, the food in Belgium is fantastic, more on that later) where I saw a man have a glass of red wine with his meal. At 10:00. I saw a lot of that. I think they are not as miffed by drinking as we are here. I decided that everyone there would be classified in America as a “functioning alcoholic”. So, so very much beer consumption. Holy crap-badgers.

Moving on. We arrived in Tongeren eventually where I fell asleep for the next fourteen hours. I hadn’t really slept in going on four days and I thought I was going to die. Also, I wanted to be rested for the antiques market the next day. At 7:00 a.m., we woke up and toddled off to look around the city center and the various large open spaces where people had set up booths. At this time I was introduced to Swartepiet.

Brace yourselves.

They don’t have Santa Claus the way we have him. If you have been good, Saint Nick the Bishop comes to your house and gives you gifts. However, if you’ve been bad, a black man names Zwartepiet (Black Peter) comes to your house and whips you. Imagine what it must have been like in, say, the 1910s and 1920s. You’re a black man from the Belgian Congo and you come to Belgium, but everywhere you go children who have never seen a black man freak out and scream as you approach. Sounds delightful, no? Apparently, since travel is so prevalent now and there are black people over here and white people over there and everyone’s mixed together, Zwartepiet’s role has been changed to Saint Nick’s helper. Okay, better. BUT, whenever he is performed by a living breathing human, it is always a white person in blackface. ALWAYS. And it’s EVERYWHERE.

I was APPALLED. I wanted to walk up to everybody and say, “Ummm, you know you’re not allowed to do that?” And there was no escaping it. I kept waiting for Al Jolson to come out singing about Mammy, it was so offensive.

During my unavoidable tour of racist imagery, I was walking in and out of booths people had set up on the street. I ended up buying some art nouveau stuff, it was great. And then there were two or three booths selling… Nazi memorabilia.

Tongeren is on the border with Germany, so it’s pretty easy to come by that stuff. It’s just weird to me to see passports and books and medals and helmets with swastikas and scary black eagles on them all out in the open. There was a second-edition copy of Mein Kampf sitting out there, so I thumbed through it. And I was saddened, but not for the reason you’d think. I realized the entire book, every last word, is written in the Olde Englishe typeface. Who can read that? I found a sample page to show you how difficult it is to read (by the way, I recommend not typing in “Mein Kampf” into Google and hitting images – not good):

How obnoxious would it be if, because I am white, I wrote my whole blog like this?

Or even worst, because I’m an Eastern-European Jew, how about this?

Horrible. I quickly shimmied away from the creepy Nazi stuff and had an amazing lunch and then we went to visit the big church in the middle of town. Cricket asked me later in the week how many museums I had gone to and I said, “None.” He was puzzled and asked what I was doing. I said, “Going to churches.” He said, “Why?” and I said, “Because that’s where they keep the art here.” I went to about seven churches/cathedrals in six days. Here’s the Tongeren church.

We got to the church around 12:30 where… the local nuns were hosting a cocktail party in the aisles. At 12:30 on a Sunday.

I turned to The Moomins and said quietly, “Is everyone in the village getting drunk on nun wine in the middle of the day? Aren’t they supposed to be praying or something?” Call me old-fashioned, but I think Brides of Christ should be tending to the poor or teaching children to read, not getting tipsy and jocular at noon in a House of God, in front of a giant wooden sculpture of Jesus on the cross bleeding.

I took a bunch more pictures of the church (very lovely) and The Moomins and I wandered around the city looking at old ruins. It used to be a Roman garrison and there are still bits of wall left over from when there were Gauls and Huns, marauding hordes, all that good stuff.

Speaking of Huns, in one of their squares they have a giant statue of a Hun and he looks exactly like Thor, with the winged helmet and an axe instead of a hammer. The base had boar’s heads and spears all around, it was terrific.

In another square, however, there was another statue and I could not believe my eyes when I saw it. Could not. It was, and I’m not making any of this up, a fountain slash bronze sculpture of three whores, two of whom are arguing and one who is WASHING HER NO-NO PLACE AND YOU CAN SEE HER LABIA OH MY GOD WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE.

Are there no rules in your country? Is everyone just perpetually drunk and in blackface, proudly displaying their Third Reich trinkets while doing genital ablutions in the town square??? Seriously, Europe, get it together.

Not to imply that Tongeren wasn’t lovely. It was. For example, outside the church was a small metal model of the church with braille so blind people could figure out the layout. That is super-thoughtful.

And the local pastry shop was exquisite. The Moomins and I stood in front of the window and almost wept at the beauty of the baked goods.

And everyone was really nice at the antiques market. Really gracious and pleasant. So please don’t get the wrong idea. As I said at the beginning, I think I have become extremely politically correct against my best intentions, so when I encounter things like this, it throws me a bit.

Coming up next: Brussels and some Antwerp.

Posted in Random Art Bloggery, Stuff, Tasty 'n' Delicious, Travels - I Has Them | 2 Comments »

Fun bits.

Friday, November 9th, 2012

1. Alcoholic spirits are called that because when they distill them, the alcohol (“spirit”) is separated from the fermented base (“body”). When you drink liquor, you are drinking the ghost of potatoes or wheat or corn. Incidentally, “Potato Ghost” would be a cool name for a vodka. Thank you, Modern Marvels.

2. I went to go vote in my district for the first time even though I have lived in White Plains for six years. The last time I voted in my old district. I found out I needed to go to a church down the street from from my apartment. Lovely church. Built in 1923. Everything was going great until I saw their sign.

Does everyone see that?

What’s… what’s with the itty-bitty “h”?! There’s a full-size “h” four letters before! I’m really glad I don’t see that every day because that would really chap my rump. Stupid tiny “h”.

3. It’s really great that I am not a thin fashionable woman because I would spend all my monies on clothes. For example, these sequined pants. Sequins in cool stripes on a nude background. They are SHNAZZY. If I wore them I would feel like I had the backdrop to “Solid Gold” wrapped around my legs.

Posted in Apartment, New York, Stuff, Tasty 'n' Delicious, The Telly | 1 Comment »

The Epic Trek.

Friday, November 2nd, 2012

Oh hey everyone, did y’all notice that storm that blew through here? Sandy, I think they called it? Wasn’t that just a blasty-blast? I am considering moving to the Australian outback and living in a hole in the ground where it is nice and dry and never rains. They do that in the Outback, you know. When I was in high school I saw “Priscilla, Queen of the Desert” and there’s a mining town where it’s really warm and people pop up like moles at night from their cool subterranean dwellings to drink beer and loiter. I bet they don’t wake up in the morning to branches everywhere and bleeping disconnected phones and news footage of an entire roller coaster sitting in the ocean.

So here’s my saga: I was sitting in bed eating (because what else are you going to do right after a hurricane that is also a tornado/flash flood/biblical plague?) on Tuesday evening when I got a text from my boss. “How R U”, it said. I, unwisely, said I was fine and I had electricity and internet and phones. He said, “Please contact M. and find out if you can help on this pitch” so I texted my co-worker M. and D. got involved and then all of a sudden C. and B. were contacting me asking me if I could help with this pitch, but I didn’t have a laptop so all my files and fonts were at work. We all agreed that it was a dick move that the potential client wouldn’t change their meeting from Friday to a later date because, you know, the East Coast is so very damp right now, but they wouldn’t and people were flipping out. It became abundantly clear that I needed to go into work on Wednesday, where we had electricity and phones but no internet. There were no trains, no subways, tree branches everywhere, wires down, bridges closed, etc. I called my co-worker Nessa who lives in Queens and asked if I could stay with her, and then I called my dad and had him drive me to Queens. Nessa was thoroughly delightful and showed rom-coms to me. I saw “How To Lose A Man In 10 Days” and I’m ashamed to say that I liked it. Who knew Kate Hudson was funny? Anyway, I asked how we would get into the city and she said, “Oh, we can walk over the Queensboro Bridge. It’ll only take 45 minutes.” I found out later that this was a LIE.

We woke up at 10:00 a.m. Wednesday and started walking with the rest of Astoria and Long Island City. It looked like a mass exodus from an abandoned nuclear wasteland to the one town with a functioning Wal-Mart that has three cans of beans still untainted by radiation.

We walked and walked and finally got to the Queenboro Bridge which was awash with a-hole bicyclists. Yes, I understand that you cycle to work every day, Mr. Bike-Man, but there’s a ton more people on your bike path today, so you think you could stop fring-fringing and yelling at everyone and just walk your bike across the bridge like a civilized member of society? Maybe?

At one point an ancient crusty man who looked like a sailor from a crab boat hollered in Nessa’s ear, “ON YOUR RRRRRIGHT!!!” in a thick Scottish accent and Nessa just snapped. “I WILL PUSH YOU OFF YOUR BIKE, SIR.” Once we got to the Manhattan side and sauntered down Park Avenue we saw a Rottweiler dressed as a skunk (it was Halloween, remember) take a giant mushy dump in front of an apartment building and the owner, a tall slim blonde woman on her phone, made absolutely no attempt to pick it up which caused the doorman in front of the building to chastise her and she ignored him because poop-scooping was beneath her, the entitled snotbag. The whole interaction reminded me how much I hate everyone (except for the skunk-weiler, he seemed to be free of fault). Finally, after walking for 5.3 miles, we got to work and about twenty minutes after I got there I got a phone call that the meeting had been postponed for two weeks. All this for nothing. I grumpily pottered around on my computer organizing files and whatnot, and about three hours later Nessa and I decided, ah, the hell with it, let’s go home. Maybe we can get on a bus. And then we saw the lines for the buses.

Yeah, no bus for us. Since the sun was getting low in the sky and it was chilly and windy, and because I figured I would be walking for another hour-and-a-half, I put on my extremely warm and extremely stupid-looking American Eagle bonnet with knitted horns on it that I kept at my office to startle interns.

As Nessa and I were trudging over to the East Side we tried to cab it for a little while, but that didn’t go too great. Our driver tried to rip us off twice and we were getting car-sick from the stop and go and stop and go and rinse and repeat. So we walked onward. And encountered The Barrier.

I think it’s there to keep bicyclists and walkers from wandering right out into the street. We had a choice: we could walk aaaaaaaaall the way down the block, around The Barrier and aaaaaaaaaall the way back, or we could just climb over this thing like everyone else. I was all for the walking option, but Nessa is sporty and had no problem hopping over this. So I decided to make a go of it. And a horrible-looking go it was. I am many things, but athletic is not one of them. I get winded taking the elevator. In between laughing at me, Nessa took pictures.

Nessa promised that we could have these really good milkshakes at a local joint as soon as we got to Astoria. I felt bad for that bartender. We dragged our sorry tired selves into this nice establishment and the bartender asked us what we want, assuming that we were adults and would want adult beverages. Nope. Milkshakes. Strawberry for me, Salted Caramel for Nessa. Make ’em snappy. Did I mention that at this point I’m still wearing my Hagrid-Hat and Nessa is wearing cat ears and a sombrero on her backpack for no reason whatsoever? And we’re drinking milkshakes at a bar? We are very cool. And I didn’t even feel guilty about this tasty treat since I had walked over ten miles that day. Woo, my thighs were tight for the rest of the evening. Every time I got up off the couch to go to the bathroom, I creaked like a haunted attic.

The next day some of the subways were running, so we took the subway in and sang a big chunk of the time. Harmonizing stuff. I considered putting out my hat to collect change. When we got to work we had email and internet so work actually got done and Metro-North was partially running, so I thanked Nessa for putting me up for two days (thank you, Nessa) and walked to Grand Central to catch a train back to White Plains. It’s still electricity-starved in New York. On 37th and 6th, when I looked left I saw this:

But when I looked right, I saw THIS:

Dark. Dark and terrifying.

Anyway, for me it’s all over now, everything’s back to normal-ish and I feel extremely lucky to have had no permanent damage to myself and my possessions and my loved ones. I got off easy on this one.

Two unrelated photos: Astoria is predominantly Greek? Don’t believe me? This picture really captures the Greekiness, I think.

And while sitting on the couch in the evenings I got to pet Gizzy, my second favorite cat in the whole world. She’s extremely fine-boned but she has a big udder hangin’ from her midsection, so she looks like an elongated beanbag. She’s a love-monster and she lets me pick her up and rub on her udder. Great cat.

Posted in Advertising, Beastiesbeastiesbeasties, Nature, New York, Stuff, Tasty 'n' Delicious | 4 Comments »

Hovawarts, Kooikerhondjes and Stabyhouns – Meet the Breeds 2012.

Wednesday, October 24th, 2012

Every year now at the Javits Center in Manhattan, the AKC and the feline equivalent of the AKC has a thing called Meet the Breeds. They have cats and dogs of various shapes and sizes. You can meet them and pet them and learn about them, it’s delightful. Each creature gets a booth and the owners/breeders make it look like a middle-school science fair. There are photos and costumes and fun facts posted everywhere. The first booth my co-worker, Nessa, and I came across was the Siberian cat. The lady was dressed in authentic Russian garb. The cat did not seem to care about this.

And in the front entrance there was a woman walking a Saluki, a breed of dog native to Saudi Arabia. Not only was the lady totally pimped out, but the dog was dressed as what I perceived as a belly dancer.

At the toyger booth the woman had dingle-dongles of tigers on her head. BTW, toygers are gorgeous. I would love to have a couple of those hanging around my abode.

My favorite kitty at this thing was the gray striped Turkish Angora. He wouldn’t really hold still for a photo, but take my word for it, he was exquisite.

There was a Havanese cat who really loved his feathered toy on a stick. Like, really loved it. In this picture, I’m holding over my head. In the second picture it’s off to the right. Look at the intensity in this cat’s eyes. He wants to kill that thing so bad. DEATH TO STICK.

After lovin’ on the kitties, we headed over to the dogs. The dog section is always substantially larger than the cat section, probably because most cats look vaguely like cats and are cat-shaped, but dogs vary so much. I saw this chart and it pretty much sums up how it works for most people.

There were four new breeds that I noticed. One was a French dog that I forgot to take a picture of (it was scruffy and blonde), but the other three I managed to catalog. There was the Kooikerhondje (I’m going to assume that’s a Dutch breed):

The Stabyhoun:

And the Hovawart, which I loved. I asked the lady about them. First of all, how am I expected not to call them a Hogawart? I mean, really? Anyway, they’re from Germany, they’ve been around since the 1200s, and they live to be about sixteen, which is unheard of in a dog as big as that (they’re very big). That’s due to excellent breeding and rigid record-keeping by the Germans. Say what you want about them, but the Germans make a great dog. The dog I petted was a total sweetie and crazy-soft all over, not just his ears like most dogs. I heart Hovawarts.

There were a stellar bunch of big dogs like the Leonberger, the Irish Wolfhound, the Akita and the Borzoi (my favoritest type of dog in the whole world).

As I said it’s extremely common to dress up for people to both decorate their booths and put on costumes to represent their breed’s land or origin or most notable trait or whatever. This man dressed as a monk said he owned five St. Bernards. I can only imagine what his food costs must be every month.

The Newfoundland booth was storm-oriented. Newfies are water dogs, mostly used for rescue. They have webbed paws.

This is the Rhodesian Ridgeback booth. And here is a young Ridgeback giving someone the sideways-eye.

I thought the Chow Chow booth was the dopest. Except for the Brush Script on the front, but that looked like it was done by a little kid, so I’m going to let it slide.

I imagine the dogs get bored after a while. This Tervuren was just chilling out. He’s probably tired from being mistaken for a German Shepherd all day.

And these Scottish Deerhounds gave up.

This Weimeraner is giving a high-five, but you can see in his eyes his thoughts are elsewhere. Perhaps thinking of a love from long ago. Or meaty treats.

The were a ton of wee dogs as well. There was this tiny Chihuahua puppy.

And these Yorkshire Terriers.

Also this Shih Tzu and Pekinese and King Charles Spaniel. All soft and sweet and friendly.

But the cutest (translation: the ones I was most tempted to shove under my shirt and hightail it out of there with) were the Pomeranians. Oh Ancient Crone, how I envy you and your super-adorable doggies.

The Corgi Queen was there again this year. I love that lady.

The Saluki booth was fabu.

The Schipperke, being a boat dog from Holland, was wearing a little sailor hat. The other one was wearing a lei… because it was on vacation, or something.

The whippet dressed as a witch was a total darling. A Witchet, if you will.

The piece de resistance of the experience, in my opinion, was the following:

– An ancient Chinese Crested
– With no teeth
– Whose tongue is too big for its mouth
– Wearing a green sweater
– Falling asleep.

Chinese Crested dogs look… intriguing to begin with.

I learned that the hairless dogs are more prone to tooth loss because whatever gene creates the lack of hair also affects the tooth strength. You learn new things every day.

So it was awesome and I’m totally going next year. I’m going to take Snorth with me whether she says okay or not. Snorth, we’re gonna go pet things next year! Put it on your calendar! We goin’!

Posted in Beastiesbeastiesbeasties, New York, Stuff | 1 Comment »

A new purse, finally. And other things.

Tuesday, October 9th, 2012

The last time I painted a purse was over a year ago and since I was working on many other projects I never got around to making a new one and the jelly one was decomposing like a mummy in a horror film. This one:

The metal tab things had ripped off and I had spilled all kinds of delicious foods on it and the strap was totally frayed, etc. The time had come, and gone, and circled back around again, and I couldn’t keep carrying it because my lip gloss kept falling out of the holes. They discontinued this particular style purse, but before they did I bought the last fifty the factory had. Alas, about ten are gray, but the rest are this appalling Pepto pink. So now I have a stack of revolting pink purses in my closet. I took one and dyed it so it was a grayish lavender. Then I drew a horned beetle on it and used Pantone markers to give the impression of a shadow in rich blues. It looks adorbs.

Two other things: there’s this thing in fashion in the last few years where you rip t-shirts in intricate patterns and then you tie up the shreds with complex knots. It looks a bit like the lanyard bracelets you made at summer camp. I was pretty meh about the whole thing until I was walking through Times Square the other day and this chick had this neat skull ripped in the back of her shirt. That was pretty cool.

The third thing: Publicis New York merged with another agency, Kaplan Thaler Group and now it’s Publicis Kaplan Thaler. In 2013 we will be joining up in a building on Broadway and 52nd, and recently I went there. It’s a nice enough office building, but something in the elevator bay is going to bother me each and every day when I work there.

Uuuugh all the letters are mashed together and then there’s that giant gap why why??? It’s so crappy. One late night I may snap and go out there with an X-acto knife and handle my business (and get fired, but at least the letter spacing will be corrected).

Posted in Advertising, Beastiesbeastiesbeasties, My Art/Design/Business, Nature, New York, Random Art Bloggery, Stuff | No Comments »

Bloomsburg Fair 2012.

Friday, September 28th, 2012

Five years ago I had complained to my co-worker A. that there were no state fairs in the New York area, the kind you hear about with the butter sculptures and deep-fried beer. He mentioned that three hours away where he’s from there is exactly that. So I went and it was everything a girl could want and more. Here’s the blog entry on that. I wanted to take my parents but every year when it would roll around I would be busy or my parents would be out of the country, whatever. But this year my dad had nothing going on, so we went. I had a great time. My father had a slightly less great time due to his disinterest in livestock and livestock-related activities. But still, a fun time was had. Since it was pretty much the same as last time (fried foods? check. tractors? check.) I’m not going to give a big ole overview again.

Yay fair!

As we came in, we skedaddled past the vendors selling threshers and tillers and backhoes to the livestock-judging area. We saw the standards – cows, horses, pigs, sheep. But some of the goats were new to me. These are small velvety goats. They looked really soft. These two were snuggling.

This one was napping. Look at him. Do you not wish to climb into his paddock and nap laying against him? I bet you do.

Now, every goat I’ve ever seen has big floppity ears. But because humans cannot stop themselves from screwing around with genetics, I saw this goat. And he was not alone. There were others like him.

Little finger-ears. What’s up with that, breeders? Is that a thing we need? I’m going to go with “no”.

There was the rabbit and chicken-judging area where I saw two bunnies that I seriously considered shoving into my shirt and fleeing off into the night with. They had great complicated titles too. They are “Lilac Mini-Rex Doe Jr.s”. They were wee and softy-soft and I wanted to have them in my life. Especially the second one who was starting to fall asleep but looks like she’s consumed with rage. ANGEE BUNNEE (really just drowzee bunnee).

There were a few new and different beastie-activities to engage in this year, and you bet your sweet patoot I went to all of them. In one giant shed there was a partitioned-off area where for $2.00 you could frolick with butterflies. The two dollars went to the local hospital, so I was totally going. Charity AND insects? I’m in. They handed me a Q-tip soaked in blue Gatorade (really) and sent me past two screen doors (to prevent escapees). And then there were a gazillion monarchs and other like butterflies fluttering around.

You know how when you go to butterfly enclosures, the butterflies never land on you and you leave dejected and disappointed? Not here. There were two people at the exit, and you had to turn around in a circle so they could make sure that none of the lil’ flappers were clinging on. I was looking at two little mothy guys when – whump! – a big hefty monarch landed on my finger and startled me. He was the biggest chubbiest monarch I have ever seen.

Then another one took a liking to my pants. He landed on my pant leg and did that open, close, open, close thing they do. I didn’t want to startle him, so I dragged that leg around slowly behind me like I was a butterfly-encrusted zombie. “Ehhhhhhhhhhh, braaaaaaainssss… and pollen.”

Then further on there was a “pet a fawn for $3.00” area, and I was in there before you could say “potential to catch lime disease”. They were so sweet. I plopped down on a hay bale and commenced lovin’ on this little guy. Look at those eyelashes.

There were two smaller fawns in there, and one was all white. The non-albino one was all about licking, so he happily clippety-clopped over to me and started suckling on my fingers. Their mouths feel almost identical to ours. They have sharpish bottom front teeth, and they have a fleshy tongue as opposed to cats and dogs, who have flat tongues. It was very sweet. Other people offered to feed them milk, which seemed to sate the little fellers.

The other cool animal-thing I saw was on the opposite side. I’ve seen many horses before (like this one wearing neon green shoes):

but as I headed over to the stables on the other side, I saw two of the biggest horses I’ve ever seen in my life. Huge. HUGE. They are called Percherons, and they are draft horses, like Clydesdales. Twelve hands high, 1,500 to 2,500 pounds. Humongous. Here’s a picture of one of them. I thought his pattern was lovely.

And here are two people standing next to Percherons to give you a sense of scale. BIG HORSES.

After thoroughly examining all the beasties, my father and I headed over to the Horticulture and Home Arts and Crafts judging area. They had a flower-arranging area that blew my mind, and I’ll tell you why. I felt like I had wandered into 1972. The building was all wood paneling, there was a giant clock made of carnations in the center of the room, and Lawrence Welk-style music was piped in. Along both walls were cut, dried and potted flowers and plants for judging. Apparently the arranged-flower theme this year had a time motif (hence the carnation clock). There was every plant imaginable. I took photos of the clovers, the bonsais, the cactii and the dahlias. Look at the giant blooms in the center.

Also, whenever The Moomins and I buy a fern, we love it and care for it and give it food and light and water and it dies. Look at these guys. I am so jealous.

But what really made it feel like 1972 were the organized themed displays. Like the canning and jarring area. Anyone notice the open bible as part of the display?

Every fiber of my being wanted to yell out, “I got your implements of husbandry RIGHT HERE,” but I did not because I am classy.

The clincher, though, was this. Take it all in. The font on the signs. The scalloped, off-white display niches. And, of course, the Phyllis Diller daisy arrangement.

And there was a ton of produce. Everything you could imagine. I took a picture of the “Bean and Brussel Sprout” quadrant.

The top shelf is regular garlic. The second shelf is elephant garlic. That is some large garlic.

In the Home Arts and Crafts barn was, without a doubt, the whitest thing I have ever seen, ever, and that was the Angel Food Cake Bake-Off. It didn’t help that the booth was manned by Betty White’s doppelganger.

There was, not surprisingly, a ton of food to choose from. This is a very Polish area, so Polish cuisine made a strong appearance.

What are cactus taters? Anyone?

The thing I noticed this year was the church groups selling foods. I insisted on saying the church name followed by the foods offered therein in a loud monotone voice, which caused me to crack up and my father to distance himself from me. For example:

“BLACK CREEK METHODIST CHURCH BAKED POTATO!!”

or:

“STRAWBERRY RIDGE UNITED CHURCH OF CHRIST ROAST BEEF SANDWICHES!!”

I amuse myself.

Here is a sandbox filled with corn.

And here is a typical cross-section of the people of the Yoo-Nited States of ‘Merka. We are not a beautiful people.

And finally, an organ that plays by itself. I couldn’t decide if I liked it or it was going to give me nightmares. I’m still undecided.

Anyway, I may go again next year because even though it’s a three-hour drive from my house, I get to see stuff that does not make its way to New York.

Posted in Activitays, Beastiesbeastiesbeasties, Nature, Stuff, Tasty 'n' Delicious | No Comments »

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