Back up off my girl...

Listen, I love Britney Spears. I know that she does not sing at her concerts, but I don't care. I love her. I know that she consistently gets skewered by reviewers(heh), but I don't care. I love her. I know that her songs are cheesed-out electronically modified pop jams, but I don't care. I love her. I LOVE HER. I guess this is coming out because I got pretty defensive when I read the Sun Times review in which the reviewer totally whack-a-moled her show. I went last night, and I cannot argue with one thing he panned her for, everything he said was true...I guess I just don't care. Because I love her.

Oh no, not Dorothy Zbornak!!!!

It is with a heavy, heavy heart that I write this boog today. As many of you might already know, yesterday marked the death of Bea Arthur. Bea was one of our most beloved television actresses, entering our hearts first as Maude in "Maude" and then earning a place there forever playing the quick witted Dorothy Zbornak in "The Golden Girls". If you were to say I was obsessed with the Golden Girls, well you wouldn't be wrong. I stay up until 1am many nights during the week watching episode after episode after episode. They are half the reason I wanted to get a DVR. I credit Dorothy Zbornak and Sophia Petrillo with showing me how to smack people with a quick comeback. Mind you, my comebacks are a little less TV friendly, riddled with swears and all, but still, Dorothy and Sophia helped mold me into the sarcastic ass that I am today.

Where were you when you heard about Bea Arthur? Well, I was at the Big City Tap with The Joyous One watching the depressing mess that was the Cubs game when my phone buzzed. I picked up my phone, it was a text from my sister Emily. I opened the text and gasped louder than I've ever gasped before. I may have actually said the word "GASP". The Joyous One immediately knew something was wrong and when I showed her the text, she put her arm around me and said "Oh no babe!". I put my head down, looked at the text again, and started crying. Through my tears I was able to respond to my sister with a "You're lying..." text, to which she responded that no, she was not lying and that she tried to call to tell me in person. I was startled by my reaction to hearing that Bea Arthur was dead, although my being startled shouldn't be that startling because I startle easily, as some of you know. If you didn't know that, well now you know that I'm an easy startler. I startled myself just the other day at Whole Foods, and I startle myself every time I open my garbage can at home. Startlability...it's a gift. Anyjumpy, back to Bea...the news of her passing invaded the rest of my evening. We were at an enGAYgement party and it was all I could talk about. When my friend Bundy got there, she said "Hi Merta" and I responded, not with a hello, but with "BEA ARTHUR DIED!!!!"...like, way to kill the celebratory mood, Merta. And instead of toasting the happy couple, I continually toasted to Bea Arthur. Even when we did a big "To Jason and Ryan" toast, I was in my head going "And to Bea Arthur"...don't tell Jason and Ryan though. Boy, I sure hope they don't read this, I really want to be invited to that wedding! Anygaywedding, my heart is truly saddened by the death of Bea Arthur, and to celebrate my sarcasm mentor, I've included some of my favorite Dorothy Zbornak quotes. Man, I don't even want to think about what I'm going to do when Betty White dies...

"Rose: I had the strangest dream last night. I was at a baseball game. Charlie Brown was pitching, Shroeder was behind the plate, Lucy and Snoopy were in center field, and they wouldn't let me play. When I woke up, I was crying. What do you think it is?
Dorothy: Peanuts envy?"

"Dorothy: So you're five years older. So am I, so is Blanche. All right, so you have a few more wrinkles. So do I, so does Blanche. OK, so you're a little thicker around the middle. So is Blanche."

"Dorothy: [to Sophia] You're a furry little gnome and we feed you too much. "

"Rose: Can I ask a dumb question?
Dorothy: Better than anyone I know..."


"Blanche: Rose! You were in a love triangle and never told me!
Rose: I never thought you'd be interested!
Dorothy: Oh really? But you thought we WOULD be interested in the story about little Yiminee, the boy who was raised by a wild moose?"

"Sophia: Was that a plumber?
Dorothy: No, that was a girl scout, selling girl scout toilets."

"Rose: Why are you both wearing black? Did you just get back from a funeral?
Dorothy: No Rose, we were singing back-up for Johnny Cash."

"Dorothy: Oh come on, Ma, that's superstitious nonsense. You know, step on a crack, break your mother's back, it doesn't work. — I know."

"Dorothy: Rose, I hope you don't mind, but I'm borrowing your golf gloves.
Rose: Oh, you have a date?
Dorothy: Yes.
Blanche: With a man?
Dorothy: No, Blanche! With a Venus Flytrap!!!! Of course with a man!"

"Dorothy: You'll have to excuse my mother; she suffered a slight stroke a few years ago, which rendered her totally annoying."

And to cap it off, here is my all-time favorite Golden Girls exchange...

"Rose: This is exactly what happened during the Great Herring War.
Blanche: The Great Herring War?
Rose: Yes, between the Lindstroms and the Johanssons.
Dorothy: Oh, THAT Great Herring War.
Rose: The two families controlled the most fertile herring waters off the coast of Norway, so naturally, it seemed like it would be in their best interest to band together. Oh, boy, was that a mistake. You see, they couldn't agree on what to do with the herring
Dorothy: Oh, well that's understandable. I mean, the possibilities are overwhelming.
Rose: Exactly. The Johanssons wanted to pickle the herring, and the Lindstroms wanted to train them for the circus.
Blanche: Weren't they kind of hard to see riding on the elephants?
Rose: Oh, not that kind of circus. A herring circus. Sort of like Sea World, only smaller. Much, much smaller. But bigger than a flea circus.
Dorothy: Uh, tell me, Rose, um... Ah-ha ha ha!... Did they ever shoot a herring out of a cannon? Rose: Only once. But they shot him into a tree. After that no other herring would do it."

Rest in peace, Bea Arthur, and thanks for the laughs!

Take my kid to work? I don't even want to go myself...

In my 32 years on this planet, I have never participated in "Take Your Child To Work Day". I always wanted to, well, mostly I always wanted to go with my mom to work, since when I was a kid she was a stay at home mom. Shockingly, that didn't fly. But even after she went back to work she never took me, so neither parent ever offered to take me to their job on "Take Your Child To Work Day". Not that I can talk, I've never offered to take my children to work, and I don't think I will this year either...probably because I don't have children...or a puppy...or a hamster even...I have no kin. Anylonely, since I've never participated in "Take Your Child To Work Day"(because I've NEVER BEEN ASKED TO), I spent several years pushing away the hurt and the painful reminders of this day in which children are taken to work by their loving parents. At 32 years old, I thought I was over it. I pretty much thought I'd forgotten all about it...until today when I received this from my mother:

Dear Children,

As you know, or don't know, tomorrow is "Take Your Child to Work Day' and there is nothing I would rather do except not go to work and that is exactly what I am going to do, so either go to your own job or talk your Father into taking you to his.
Love,
Mom

So that got me thinking that there should be a new day called "Take Your Grown-Up-Children-With-Their-Own-Jobs To Work Day". This would be a way for those of us who were deprived of this privilege to finally see "where daddy hangs his coat" or "where mommy eats her lunch", or "where daddy reads the paper", or "where mommy plays solitaire", or "where daddy keeps his flask" or "mommy fired Johnson for being a dbag" or "where daddy got written up for sending an email that was deemed 'inappropriate for work' regarding a bull who has his way with a cow whose head is stuck between fence posts"...sorry...I got lost there for a bit. Anybovine, I guess I missed being taken to work more than I knew. And I think it would be hilarious, at 32, to have my lifelong dream finally come true...participating in "Take Your Child To Work Day". Maybe next year...

That's not rain...

Every time it rains, I can't help but think about my favorite Deep Thought, by Jack Handy. It goes a little something like this:

If a kid asks where rain comes from, I think a cute thing to tell him is, "God is crying." And if he asks why God is crying, another cute thing to tell him is, "Probably because of something you did."

This ALWAYS makes me laugh...out loud...while walking in the rain...in public...alone. Sure I might look crazy, because who laughs when it's raining? But I'd rather laugh and look crazy then be sad all day because of some sky spit. The cloudy, rainy days really seem to depress people. Perhaps if those people would think about the Deep Thought, they would laugh, then the laughing would automatically raise their spirits, then they wouldn't end up eggrolled in a blanket on their couch every time it rained. Of course it could go the other way too. They could think of the Deep Thought, laugh at first, then think about what they did that made God cry...not paying parking tickets on time, excessively using the "F" word, laughing at the little kid who had his head down and walked into the sign in the hallway, not waiting until the kid got down the hall to start laughing...great...I made God cry. Now I'm depressed.

Love.

I really love pizza. I don't think I would ever turn down a piece of pizza. I also feel this way about bacon. And peanut butter and jelly. And certain types of cupcakes. I am starving.

Is that? No, it's just Meta...

While perusing the internet this week, I was smacked with the realization that if my hair were a little bit more blonde, and a little bit more tightly curled, I would look a lot like David Bryan, keyboardist for the popular rock band Bon Jovi, a band that I don't even really like, except for "Living on a Prayer" so I'm not really sure why I was looking at images of Bon Jovi. Random. But anyway, yeah, I think I would kind of look like him.

This led me to think about the other people I look like, resemble, remind people of etc. One of the most popular opinions is that I look like Darlene, from popular 90's sitcom Roseanne. I kind of see that, but mostly I think it's an attitude thing. Although I think I wasn't as bitchy as Darlene when I was a teenager, though my parents would probably disagree.

Back when I was a teenager and hanging out at the Vivian's every...single...day...I was told by Mrs. Vivian that I looked like the model for the Mona Lisa. She told me this all the time, I loved hearing it. That is maybe is the most random/awesome person I have been compared to. I mean, the Mona Lisa is a beautiful painting, so my guess is that the model was beautiful. Unless the model was goat-smackin ugly and the Mona Lisa is actually an abstract painting. Now, please don't go writing to me telling me that I'm an idiot for saying the Mona Lisa is an abstract painting...I know that it is not. I was just saying...

Another Meta-like that has recently come to my attention, unfortunately for me, is Weird Al Yankovic. Before you protest, think about it. We both have the long, curly hair, we both have odd faces which allow for odd facial expressions. Actually, odd facial expressions have become the norm for me.

Just look at some of my pics on Facebook. Anyweirdal, I think when you weigh the facts you will agree that I bear a strong resemblance to Weird Al, but without the money, the parody, the accordion, the Grammy, the mustache...that is if I've waxed mine.

Many of you might wonder why wombats hold such a special place in my heart. I've been told that this nickname "wombat" came about when I was a wee baby. Apparently, my uncle Joe said that I looked like a wombat. Now, I'm no baby expert, but I think the only thing that was even remotely similar about baby Meta and a baby wombat, is the fact that we were both pink...and naked. But the similarity ends there, in my opinion. If I were to go several weeks sans shower, I may begin to smell like a wombat, but that's not looking like a wombat, that's smelling like a wombat. Big difference people...big difference. Don't get me wrong, I would love to look like a wombat, because I think they are super cute. I'm not sure if that's a popular opinion, or if I'm biased because wombats have been a major part of my life. I don't really care either. Wombats...are cute. So there.

There is one comparison that has been made that I really miss. To bring this look back, it would require that I resurrect my delicious fade, but I don't think I'm prepared for that. Growing it out took too long. And I wish that when I looked like this, I had been brave enough to be my lez self because I could have pulled chicks like crazy looking like Joey McIntyre. I was maybe the poor-woman's Joey McIntyre, but still.

I realize that most people I think I look like are men, which may seem weird...al. Don't get me wrong, I think I def look like a woman. I mean, I am all t*ts and hair and hips. I'm just saying that I have similar features to some men. Heck, my cousin Mina, who is like the least manly person I know and is absolutely beautiful, thinks she has, on occasion, looked like Buddy Lembeck from "Charles In Charge" and in one photo, she declared she looked like Ben Stiller. Neither of which are true...but both are hilarious.

So, who do you like? Who are some of the folks you've reminded people of? What are some of your most hilarious celebrity comparisons? Bring em, people...

Poof this...

So the word prediction setting on my phone? Is dumb. Why? Oh, I'll tell ya why. Every single time I type "some", the predicted word it gives me is "poof". I don't use the word "poof"...ever...for anything. I seriously never use the word "poof". I shouldn't say never, because I do use "poof" when I'm singing "Little Bunny Foo Foo"...which I do more often than a 32 year old with no kids should...wait, no I don't...I'm lying...the word "poof" isn't even in that song(yes I did just sing it in my office to check, and yes out loud)...so I'll go back to my original statement, which is I seriously never use the word "poof". I certainly don't type the word "poof" into my phone, so why the word prediction thinks "poof" is what I'm trying to type instead of "some", is beyond me. I use the word "some"...all the flappin time. You would have thought by now that C3PO(I call my cell phone that because it's cell phone number 3 for me, cell phones are like androids, and I like C3PO the android because he has a snappy English accent and worries all the time) would have figured out the word "some" is a part of my everyday vocabulary and not "poof" and it would have adjusted to accommodate it. But no...I'm still getting "poof" all the time. Maybe C3PO knows I'm a big poof. I mean, I cry at everything that's even remotely sentitendermental, I cry at everything that's even remotely sad, I cry at everything that's even remotely happy. I cry...a lot. So maybe 3PO is just calling me a "poof" all the time...because 3PO is a little bit of an ahole. Anyandroid, it's so annoying that I've decided to stop using the word "some" and just settle for "poof". So you may get a text message from me that makes no sense...one that says, for example, "Hey, will you bring me poof Advil?" or "Can I use poof of your lip balm?" or "How would you like it if I made you poof tacos?"...hehe..."poof tacos" is really making me laugh right now. Anypooftacos, if you receive a text like that from me, making no sense and involving the word "poof", you'll know I mean "some"...and you can figure it out. Now, will one of you seriously bring me poof Advil?

And hey, read this: http://www.whywhatwereyouthinking.blogspot.com/
It's one of my new favs and should be one of yours too!