Who's Afraid of the Muffin Man?

I knew that this post would come. The ubiquitous body issue post. However, this one involves physics.

Let me digress a bit.

I have a cookbook called "Off The Beaten Path" by Bob Blumer, aka (his nomenclature) the surreal gourmet. I bought it after having some delicious grilled asparagus that he prepared in his Airstream kitchen which was situated in the Whole Foods parking lot as part of a series of appearances in the area to promote said book.

There is a chapter in the book called Extreme Cuisine and Bob says: "My dinner guests tend to arrive with impossibly high expectations. Instead of trying to compete with their fantasies, I counter with culinary theatrics from my Surreal bag of tricks. The ruse started at a dinner in Vienna where I poached salmon fillets in a dishwasher."

You get the picture.
Lemongrass Shrimp 'grilled' on a car engine after the car had been driven for 20 miles. Foods prepared with your iron.

And this brings me back to physics and the muffin (top).

As I've been doing a lot of driving lately, I'm acutely aware of how much force my stomach exerts on the seatbelt. After the initial disgust about how I need to lose a few pounds ebbs away, I then start to think more about the force (help me, Luke) and how I can harness it and get something positive accomplished with it.

That reminded me of Bob and his salmon in the dishwasher and the shrimp on the car engine.

Maybe a grilled cheese when it's hot enough outside?

Goat cheese pressed panini?

Pull over and sell them roadside and make a little gas money?

I am afraid of the muffin man and what he does to my head.

From First (Black) Lady to First Lady Anchor

No, I’m not caught up in the mishigas surrounding Mrs. O’s toned and displayed biceps, nor am I interested in which G-20 spouse looks the best. Although NYMag was spot-on...

You are well aware of my concern about Mrs. O’s ( now referred to by some fashionistas as Mobama) eyebrows, but we’ll get to that later.

However, this coat reminds me of something that either Carol Burnett or Tracy Ullman would wear for one of their characters. And Mrs. post-Jagger-Sarkozy isn't doing her runway model self any favors either.

And on both ladies, the floppy bow ties have got to go. I can handle the recycling of 80’s ‘strong shoulders at this past set of Fashion Weeks, but I say NO to the BOW.

Now, back to the brows….even though her make-up artist decided that too many people were telling her to bring the arch down, and she was supposedly working on that….we are still not seeing any progress. And, it contributes to Mrs. O’s wonky left eye in some pictures, which you can see here.

On a related "people taking shots at women" note, I enjoyed reading this article on Katie Couric, in this month's Elle magazine. She has put up with a lot of criticism since becoming the anchor of the CBS Evening News and I watched her debut out of 'you go girl' loyalty and decided that I liked Brian Williams' newscast better. I've always watched the NBC national news, the rare times that I'm home at 5:30pm.

I admire Katie for plugging away and knowing that by being one of the few women to sit in that particular chair, she was making a difference and she was going to to be true to herself in the process.

Mrs. O. is plugging away too - navigating the role of the First Lady conundrum, and she is also being true to herself. Whiplash brows and all.

The New Vacation Car Game: Spot The Botox

You know your days of car bingo are over when you are out to dinner, on vacation, and your 11 yr old daughter says "Mom, turn around, the lady in the red, behind you, has had massive botox."

The Boy said "What are you talking about?"

The Grrl proceeded to put her hands on either side of her face and pulled back her already taut and perfect skin to demonstrate. However, there is no before and after when an 11 yr old pulls her face skin back----it's more like a bad Miley Cyrus-I'm-pretending-to-be-asian moment.

So I took a look at the lady in red, out with her married sons/daughters and the Grrl was right. And there was something going on with her lips too. Not massive like Lisa Rinna (who I have the total scoop on through her make-up artist) and not slightly plumped-up like Nicole Kidman either. I think her mouth was pulled wide due to botox in the wrinkles at the sides of your mouth.

I told the Grrl not to stare and she said "Whaaat? I just glanced!!"

I decided the woman looked like a cross between Dina Merrill and Zsa Zsa Gabor.

Then I had a midwest matchy-matchy flashback moment.

Not only was her top red, but also her watch band and blazer (on the back of the chair). I had to check out the shoes. I pretended to drop something on the floor (lame I know, but the tables were really close together) and the ankle boots were in the red/burgundy family. I knew I'd be really going too far if I tried to confirm if the belt was red too.

When I was in middle school/high school, in the SW corner of WI, I matched my socks to my belt and my hair accessory. And my watchband.

It's more of the wackness.

The midwest kind.

Like A Dog With A (brow) Bone

Here is an artistic take on the First Lady.....and of course the brows that jumped over the moon.

Is That Really Your Neck Exploding Or Are You Just Happy To See Me?

New York Times editor flunks association test when calling the following images a 'Celebration of the Chin':

oh yeah, I'm celebrating....

What do you think?

I think there's a bit of a masochistic vibe going on here.

Or a sprinkle of misogyny?

Or something "m"?

Like hot mess?

Clothing The Cougars

Maybe I've been watching too many episodes of "The Real Housewives" lately and I'm seeing things through breast implanted glasses.....but as I cruised through Nordstrom's the other day, (on my way to Aveda) I looked over the women's spring clothing options and decided that it was all cougar clothing.

JennaVickyGretchenLauri-ish babydoll tops abound, paired with jeans, over-sized and over-priced ($400) bags, and bug-eyed sunglasses. The only things missing were the stripper platform sandals. Short jackets with youthful (sez the Nordstrom buyer to his/her boss) styling that your daughters would say are lame, but a cougar would call fun.

Browsing the sale shoe racks (for The Grrrl, not me) I see the Coach high-top sneakers that she wanted this past winter. The sale price: $87. Reduced from $150. Really? $100 (with our 10% sales tax) for brown, fluffy, fake fur-lined high-tops to wear in the spring and summer?

Recession my ass.

Don't even get me started on how food producers have maintained or raised prices and shrunk their products....

I can now hold 2 "large" containers of Moose Tracks ice cream in 1 hand.

I wonder how many containers of the new Moose Tracks ice cream would fit into a cougar top?

Pissed @ Purse + Bitchin re: Bag*

I'm having purse problems.

My bags are either too big or too small.

Too much structure, or not enough.

Too casual for work; too serious for My Other Life.

Not in season - I have to wait until spring.

This vexes me. I'm very vexed.**

They fall off my shoulder in the winter-of-bulky-coats and dangle like a knotted-up tether ball.

The slouches pool on the floor in my office and I run over them.

The stiff soldiers topple over in my front passenger seat and deposit their contents between the seat and the door and under the seat, never to be retrieved.

The little guys don't accommodate my current wallet + sunglasses.

The big guys look like Pamela Anderson's chest after the implants are removed. I don't have enough big stuff to stuff in there. I don't carry my make-up drawer around with me in my purse. (see above for the lone lipstick that is lost under the passenger-side seat). My wallet isn't bulging with the kids' last report cards and coupons for the nearest waterpark.

I'm a purse and wallet minimalist. Just the bare essentials. If I had the guts to dress like Fran Lebowitz, problem solved. Man-up.

I'm waiting to break out the baby-blue perfect-size bag.

Spring will have sprung and I won't be pissed anymore.


* Twitterized for the hip ones
** Big points for knowing this worst of the worst quote from a movie