Finding Zen

Two Hot Tamales and a Husband

I've been feeling a bit saucy lately..and have decided to post today about two of my favorite actors, Josh Hartnett and Ryan Gossling.  Not so much because they are Academy Award Winners, but because they are really really easy to look at.  So now, before you feel the urge to question my interest in 'men with only happy-trails for chesthair'- just so you know, I like 'em like that.  Thank you.

Ryan Gossling

Now you tell me, WHO LOOKS THIS GOOD IN A WIFE BEATER EATING A BOWL OF CEREAL - who hasn't had a shave or combed his hair in 5 months?  Because Gina, let me tell you - that is one HOT TAMALE right there.  And whats even more hotter?

Ryan Gossling soaking wet with hotty Rachel Adams wrapped around his waiste.  In my humble opinion, this scene is one of THE hottest in a movie ever.  In case you forget...he runs her out of the rain just like this and then slams her up against the side of the house and makes out with her like NOBODYS BUSINESS. 

I loved Ryan and Rachel together - on and off screen, they have such good chemistry.  It's too bad they didn't work out.  And if you haven't seen Fracture - you must.  It's AWESOME. 

Josh Hartnett

What's so great about Josh - is he's pretty-boy hot like the super-sized underwear models on billboards in Times Square.  Only NOT Gay - which makes the fantasy more exciting, as a woman.  Not that I fantasize about Josh Hartnett.  Because,  who needs to fantasize about Josh Hartnett when you LIVE with him? 

 

Slap a wife-beater and a bowl of cheerios on that boy - toss him out in the middle of the rain, and life is good.  I'm hormonal, just deal.

Oh, and here is one last look at Josh.

Are you sensing a theme here? To all my readers:  Go home and throw your wife/girlfriend/lover up against a wall tonight and tell me that doesn't work out for you.  Only - don't throw your husband up against the wall.  That might totally freak him out.  Or maybe its just whats been missing out of your relationship...ahhh hell - if you can swing it - give it a whirl!  NO wait.  Scratch that.  That would be really weird.

I Don't Want Your BabyDust ANYWAY!

I found this website called Two Week Wait  www.twoweekwait.com.  It's chock full of symptoms one might feel during the two weeks they have to wait before they can know for sure whether or not they are pregnant.  You never know what that ingrown hair on your leg might REALLY MEAN.  It's a place for women to help others trying to conceive, obsess more about their bodies.  From what I had read through the other day, it didn't feel as 'cultish' as some of the others have felt.

So I decided to 'post' a howdy doody in one of the forums.  Maybe I could find a little community of like-minded women to experience this journey with.  So I created a profile and submitted my post.  It went something like this:

"hi I'm blah blah blah...and we've been trying blah blah blah...and I've done this and that so far...and this looks good, but what does this mean....and..."

Then I get to the part where I disclose to this group the litany of "TMI" details commonplace to these boards.  Like how many times and when and how you might have had sex (because fertile women are ALL ABOUT some details)...and as I'm writing my message, I can't bring myself to say it - BD (Baby Dance).  Nope, I will not conform!  So instead I go on my soapbox about how friggin STUPID the term "BD" is.  Thinking, maybe, just maybe, all these people have been waiting for someone to say it so they could all agree and we could start talking like ADULTS.  Who have SEX.  And sometimes *GASP* fuck.  And its all love-making - right?  Because if you are trying to have a baby - I'm assuming your sexual relations have something to do with love.  I mean, is it not possible for that word to exist in the context of making a baby?  Newsflash.  It happens (and in the famous words of Anne Lammot -  my 24-hour-egg and I, don't have that kind of time) - and I highly recommend it.

So I get finished with my little 'cant we all just talk FOR REALS' speech, and end it with a friendly "GOOD LUCK!" and a "Cheers!".  My signature does not include a blinky, a buzzy, or a scratch-and-sniff sticker of my Labrador Retriever.  I have no borders and no STATS.  And by all means, no trace, trail, or explosion of that almighty ever potent, BABYDUST.  I am, just Plain Jane ZenStella looking for pointers on how to get knocked-up and a conversation that doesn't involve Gods Will or Hands.

I went to bed last night eager to check the boards this morning hoping to find the group had deemed me CAPTAIN of a more authentic, and honest group of gals - STELLA'S HOT TAMALE TRAIN if you will!  A place where we could talk about our 'periods' and 'sex' and encourage eachother to spell out words and use complete sentences.  A place where our husbands aren't always DEAR (DH=Dear Husband).  Because some days mine is a SH=Silly Husband, some days he's a TH=Thoughtful Husband, and SOME DAYS hes a down right BH=Bastard Husband - either way, I hate to pigeonhole him.  I anticipated an outpouring of welcome and appreciation for my calling out the pink elephant dressed as a Stepford Wife in the corner of the room. 

This morning I checked in to my new club.  Not only had I not recieved any private messages of comraderie - 4 new pages full of chat in addition to a whole new THREAD had evolved since my post and not a SINGLE ONE acknowledging I even existed in their TTC world.  Talk about pink elephant.  Page after page of 'Welcome Susie!' , 'Welcome Jane!', 'OMG Becky so glad you could join us!', all sorts of conversations ignoring my introduction as though I had come in and dropped virtual ass right all up in their rose garden.

So I guess I'll be taking my Hot Tamale Train campaign somewhere else.  WHERE ARE MY PEOPLE???  Am I going crazy?  Do I have to take a blinky acronymn class?  Do I really have to go back to 1992 - because ya'll, I don't know how I feel about that...that was a BAD YEAR.  My husband, Josh Hartnett, on the other hand was doing just fine.  If only I had gotten some of THAT tamale train.... 

Best Line Ever

"I don't want to sell anything, buy anything, or process anything as a career. I don't want to sell anything bought or processed, or buy anything sold or processed, or process anything sold, bought, or processed, or repair anything sold, bought, or processed. You know, as a career, I don't want to do that."

-Lloyd Dobler, Say Anything

Mr. Rogers' Transgenderhood

Mr. Rogers was one of my favorite shows growing up.  I watched religiously.  I loved Mr. Rogers and all his friends.  All of his friends except for Lady Elaine Fairchild.  I hated her.  I hated her voice, I hated her nose, I hated her hair - overall, she was the shows' ace 'sandbagger'.

The picture in the last post of Andy Warhol, conjured my memory of Lady Elaine.  As I pull up this picture to revisit my feelings for her - I am overwhelmed with commentary.  Let us have a look, shall we?

There are so many things wrong with Lady Elaine Fairchild, I just don't know where to begin.  For starters, who are we kidding?  This ain't no Lady.  This right here, is Boy George after a failed attempt at Mt. Everest.  Was Lady Elaine confused about where to put his lipstick?  Where are his shoulders?  Why is his nose 6 inches long, and that tip...that tip is about ready to fall off.  Did they think Lady Elaine Fairchild would improve ratings?  I'm sorry, but this Queen was in the WRONG HOOD. 

So by the time Poltergeist came out, I was already really put-out with red noses and lips and perfectly arched eyebrows on men pretending to be women.  This movie is responsible for many wasted hours of my youth; checking under my bed, leaving doors open for an escape route, and demanding my grandmothers dolls be put away before my visits.

The difference here is that the Poltergeist clown was not supposed to be cute.  They didn't need to go ruining a perfectly decent and friendly clown and every birthday party I attended in the 80's.  They could have just used Lady Elaine Fairchild.

Guilty Pleasure

We buy the majority of our groceries at the Farmers Market.  For Zack it's so that we can eat local, and organic...and fresh, and cheaply.   For me, its so that our grocery budget gets spent on actual FOOD and not crap like magazines, cheap makeup (which isn't so cheap anymore) and Glade scented candles - because those things don't cook so well.  It's simple.  When I leave Publix I get two bags for my $50, where as at the Farmers Market, I get four.  Actually, no - make that 10.  Because at the Farmers Market they don't quite get the concept that multiple things can go in one bag - I really don't mind if my beef and veggies touch.  It's actually, quite annoying - and wasteful.

Which is all besides the point, because they have fresh chocolate covered peanuts and pretzels and for that reason alone, they can use as many bags as they want.

By the way.  Have you ever heard of the term 'BRASS TAX'?  No?  Well I have.  All my life.  And I never understood it - but just left it alone.  Until my coworker wrote in an email to me the other day 'let's get down to brass tacks...'.  It was quite a moment for me. 

The point here IS, that the trip to Publix is really exciting for me because the one thing I really do wish they had at the Farmers Market are US and People magazines.  I LOVE THEM.  I can't help myself.  It's bad...really bad.  Pathetic actually.  Because its so wrong on soo many levels (many of which Zack reminds me of everytime I make a comment about how horrible it must be to be followed and stalked by papparazzi - when we watch TMZ).  I have a graveyard of these mags around my house.  They come in handy when I go to get my hair cut or colored.  I always wind up bringing in pictures of Jennifer Anniston and Lauren Conrads hair.  They have the perfect blonde.  ANYWAY.

I want to talk about two ladies I love but who I have some concerns about, lately. They are, Nicole Kidman and Renee Zellweger.  What IS GOING ON WITH THESE WOMEN???  What are they doing to their faces??  WHY?  I just don't understand.  Granted, these women aren't 30 anymore - but what happened to AGING gracefully??  Ladies, SAY NO TO INJECTIONS!  You are melting!!!  Is this just me, or are they both not turning into Andy Warhol?  And...EAT A FLIPPIN CHEESEBURGER for christsakes!

  

SEE!  Just like him.

In other Hollywood news.  I heard on my morning radio show, an interview with Pete Wentz.  I have to admit, contrary to what I was expecting, he was a cool dude. 

Okay.  So lets recap, for those of you having trouble A) reading the screen...or B) are asking yourselves WTF?

• Farmers Markets are cheaper but use too many bags.  AND they stink.
• Publix is good for trash mags and Glade scented candles.
• I watch TMZ.
• Lauren Conrad and Jennifer Anniston have good hair.
• Renne Zellweger and Nicole Kidman look like Andy Warhol.
• Pete Wentz is not an ass - read: the opposite of Avril Lavigne.
• and this post could very well be the impetus for the next Adderall Marketing Campaign.