What Possessed Me

What happens when you talk about baby animals all the time:

They chip in to buy you a birthday card and wait patiently at your (messy) desk to surprise you.

And can we also talk about this?

Oh Inchmark, you and your krazytime pinata of joy make me want to roll over and bark. 

Yes. Oh, yes.

 

 

 
Ninainvorm is instant Prozac.

Also: Eating M&Ms for dinner.
 

GAHHHHHHHHH!

Behold, a baby hedgehog:

Part of me just died inside. The other part may never recover from the cuteness explosion.

In search of big-ass hair

Cheryl, a nice girl from New Jersey, is doing my hair for the wedding. Cheryl and I go way back - back to a time when I was growing out of my Joan Jett 'do and into Sissy Spacek in "Coal Miner's Daughter" (best movie ever). It was a vulnerable time for me and my hair - my hair and I had a very tenuous relationship, having gone through some rough patches together. Cheryl rescued me from my feathery mullet, and for that I am eternally grateful.

 

I know I can count on Cheryl because she wears eyelash extensions but can also beat the crap out of an unsuspecting mugger. Homegirl has guns. Being from New Jersey means she understands big hair, so when I told her "Brigitte Bardot meets Gibson Girl" she said, "YES." 

Which is exactly what I wanted to her to say. 

Because my greatest fear is ending up with a horrible shellacked updo plastered to my skull. I need volume, I crave height. I operate under the maxim, "Big hair, small hips." The bigger the hair, the more cupcakes you can eat. 

We chatted about how to make my hair as big as possible. "I want it BIG," I said, while Cheryl nodded vigorously. And I didn't even flinch when she uttered the words, "So you're gonna go to Wigs Plus..."

 

Apparently, I need a WEFT, whatever that is (let's hope not one of those ponytails cut off of virgins offering their hair to Hindu gods, which then ends up glued to the head of some chick from "Jersey Shore"). All I know is that when you go to YouTube and type in "Amy Winehouse hairstyle," "bouffant," "beehive" and "Sixties updo" some magical shit happens.  

(Almost as magical as when you type in "botfly larvae removed from skull.")

P.S. Are we loving Sophia Loren in these pictures? Yes we are.

   

Oh, for ball's sake.

It's snowing. 

AGAIN. 

What the EFF, people. I did not sign up for this. If I wanted handfuls of wet snow pelting my face from every angle until May, I'd live in Duluth.

ALSO, I sliced open the bridge of my left foot in a freak glass-breaking-while-rushing-to-a-meeting accident. I have never seen so much blood in my life - it looked as though I had sacrificed the fatted calf on my bathroom floor. Curiously, I got absolutely no sympathy when I showed up to work limping and bandaged and bleeding into my shoe. I'm telling you, it's dog eat dog out there, people. The vultures have already started circling my ergonomically correct chair and my power stapler and my funky tape dispenser.

IN ADDITION, I spent about two hours last night watching other people's wedding videos and bawling my eyes out. I have no idea where this came from - I don't even know these people. The videos aren't even that good. They just get me to thinking about my dad and how lucky I am that he's well enough to walk me down the aisle, and Fauxhawk's dad, who is well enough to toast us at the rehearsal dinner. They make me think about a time when they won't be around and how much I'll miss them, and how much I hope our wedding will be a celebration of life as much as a celebration of marriage. We are T-60 days to the wedding and I'm ridiculously emotional. If I can't watch "Patty + Bobby's Shotgun Spectacular" without tears pouring down my face, I can't imagine what will happen at our own ceremony.

MOREOVER, we decided to go ahead with the wedding video. Thank you so much for sending me your honest opinions - you gave me a lot of great ideas. If you have wedding clips that you like, would you send them to me? I'm trying to drum up as much inspiration as possible.

FURTHERMORE, I owe so many of you emails, it's shocking. I'm really behind - forgive me. I will be back to you soon. The baby animals submissions have been OFF THE HOOK of late - my ovaries are bursting with joy. Someone asked about what exercise DVDs I'm using - I've tried a bunch, finally alternating between P90 and a selection of workouts (the pilates chick from Ten Minute Solutions is my own personal venus) I order from Netflix or watch with the instant viewing function. I pretty much loathe exercise, so switching it up has worked for me. Now I look Carmen Electra and I'm SO MUCH HAPPIER!!!!!!!!!!!!1

Image via Beehive.

Can't. Stop. Must. Stop.

 

 

 
   

Two things I've been doing this week:

1. Freebasing on Dutch and Flemish still life paintings at work, thumbing my nose at things like "deadlines" and "responsibilities" which can only be bad for the spirit and not as much fun as stripey flowers.

2. Ordering bare root roses online, laughing in the face of "space restrictions" on our very modest, 4'x16' balcony and "safety measures" like "easily accessible fire escapes."

I can't help it. Around this time of year I start to go batshit crazy and, like Cassie, spend more time than is healthy browsing through the temptations at Whiteflower Farm. BEHOLD my latest acquisitions: Rosa Scentimental (top) and Rosa Strawberry Hill (bottom), which will live next to Lady Emma Hamilton, Graham Thomas, and Benjamin Britten (all of whom look ghastly on the David Austin website so you'll have to trust me that they are glorious). I'm sure the neighbors, who share our fire escape, won't mind getting burned to a crisp so I can enjoy the gorgeous scent of my beautiful English roses.

Hans Bollongier, "Still Life With Flowers" - 1639 (top)

Rachel Ruysch, "Still Life With Flowers on a Marble Tabletop" - 1716 (bottom)

Hmmm...

I'm on the fence about something and wondered if you all could weigh in. A young actor/filmmaker wants to shoot our wedding for a nominal fee to build his portfolio. He's very smart, has lots of good ideas, and is allergic to the cheese that one sees in many wedding videos. Here's the thing: 

Wedding. Video. The two words together seem a little...vulgar.

It just worries me a little. On one hand, it all goes so quickly that it would be nice to have a record of Fauxhawk dancing with his fly unzipped and my right boob popping out during the Electric Slide. It would be nice to have something to look at later, if we wanted to, that includes our parents and families and friends. It would be nice to support a young person with a fresh perspective who wants to gain more experience. And it could turn out to be something really, really beautiful.

I'm just slightly concerned that it's going to turn the wedding into a three-ring circus. Photographers...videos...a parade of baby elephants...who are we, Chuck and Di? Is this going to be terribly intrusive?

Does anyone have any experience with this that they'd like to share? We need advice.

Portrait of Madame Alphonse Karr.

YOU KNOW YOU LOVE IT!!!!!!!!1

It's been a long time since we had a baby panda around here. 

Via.

And now for something completely different.

Claudia Schiffer as Frida Kahlo. 

Okaaaaaaay. 

Weird. 

But I like it.

 

Speaking of looking like someone completely different, I went to my wedding makeup consultation tonight.

"I just want to look like myself," I say to the makeup artist. Obviously, this is the biggest crock ever. We don't want to look like ourselves - we want to look better. Hence the alarming number of weddings I've been to in which the bride is completely unrecognizable. We think we want to look like ourselves, but really, in our hearts, we want to look like Penelope Cruz. Is that so wrong? No, I think not. Not in theory, at least. 

The issue is what happens when you look in the mirror and suddenly you have EYEBROWS. Your EYEBROWS are now symmetrical for the first time in their natural born lives and your crooked mouth is all EVEN and the makeup person has ironed your shit OUT and suddenly your albino mutant eyelash is nowhere to be seen. Where did it go? It's a mystery. And then you get on the train and catch sight of your reflection and you notice that someone is looking - possibly because you are now a superior human being or possibly because you have lost all of your super powers what with the eyelash being gone and the eyebrows being all matchy matchy. And this worries you.  Will Fauxhawk still like you without your crooked face and mutant albino eyelash?

Then again, if you do your makeup yourself, it will look like Monday at the office and your mascara will end up halfway down your face like it always does when you have more than two glasses of wine. And let's face it, you are going to have more than two glasses of wine at your wedding and will, quite possibly, start drinking before the holy sacrament of marriage even gets underway.

~THE END~

P.S. Are we sick of my wedding yet? Because we haven't even gotten to HAIR yet. 

P.P.S. Hugs, kisses, etc. 

Images: Vogue Germany, March 2010.