Fudgy

I tried a new ice cream today, Hagen-Daz Vanilla Fudge. Why, you ask? Because it looked good, because a reputable ice-cream chef told me to try it? No... because Zach Braff said he liked it.

Why you may ask, did I listen to some random actor? IS he some expert on Hagen-daz? Is he an ice cream guru of the acting world? No, but he has an honest face, and no actor has steered me wrong when it's come to ice cream. No actor has ever steered me anywhere, but that's besides the point. He said in an article that his favorite ice cream was Vanilla Fudge. I've never tried it, and he seems like a happy kid, so why not, right?

In all honesty, it was more of a SAT response to him. Zach Braff is to cool, as vanilla fudge is to good ice cream. Ring a bell, and I buy ice cream.

In my deep sad psyche, deep down there, I think..."if I like it too, then we could meet at a trendy Hollywood party, and I could say 'Hey- Vanilla Fudge, right?' and he'd say 'Sweet dude!' and we'd become bestest friends forever and ever." Hey, it could happen.

But standing at the frosty freezer section, I was faced with the choice of Zach Braff's Vanilla Fudge, and the old standby, Creme Brulee. As the wispy fog poured from the door, two figures appeared. A little Zach Braff in white with wings on one shoulder, and a little Dr. Cox, red with horns on the other.

Zach Braff: Get the Vanilla Fudge, so we can hang out and be super cute ice cream buddies together!

Dr. Cox: He's an ACTOR for god's sake.

Zach Braff: You're an actor too!

Dr. Cox: Don't listen to Britney here...go with the Creme Brulee and get out of here.

Zach Braff: But if you don't try it, then how can we meet at the party, and how can we become bestest buds?

Sigh. He was right.

So, I brushed off the Scrubs Angel and Devil and got the Vanilla Fudge.

And the moral of this story is that I now hate Zach Braff because it sucked. Vanilla Fudge has got to be the WORST ice cream I've ever had.

Not that it's ALL Zach Braff's fault. The Hagen-daz peeps make a big deal about their labels accurately reflecting the product, I know know this because it was on a special about the making of ice cream. The things you learn from the Food Channel, right?

So imagine my confusion when the label had not only an orchid flower but also square chunks of CHOCOLATE fudge. Is it going to taste like vanilla flavored fudge? Probably not, since the fudge was chocolate - but the name misleads, and the presence of fudge cubes is totally irrelevant anyway. It's vanilla ice cream with chocolate ripple. No FUDGE by any traditional definition of the word. And it's even without vanilla beans. It was sucky vanilla ice cream. I mean, the gall of Zach Braff.

Now when we meet at the trendy Hollywood party, I'm going to have to grab his lapels and scream 'Vanilla Fudge sucks!' And he will have me forcibly removed, and call me a stalker.

Whatever. Stupid actor. He started it.

Luke's Cousin

Wait for it...Luke's cousin and a musical number....and the freakin Disneyland castle. Damn, that Henson was good.

Story of my Life

And my worlds collide...

Steven Hawking quotes Woody Allen.

At a seminar; "How can one describe the universe at the beginning of time. I now think I can show how the universe was spontaneously created out of nothing, according to the laws of science. The universe exists, because general relativity and quantum theory allow and require it to exist. If I'm right, the universe is self contained, and governed by science alone. In time, we can hope to understand it completely. We have long enough, as the universe should last for ever. Eternity is a very long time, especially towards the end, as Woody Allen said."

AND...

Martha Stewart wants Eminem to appear on her "Martha" TV show.

"We play his music during breaks to keep people very lively and they love him," Stewart told AP Radio in a recent interview. "I would really love to have Eminem on the show," the 65-year-old lifestyle guru said. "I don't think he knows that my demographic audience is so involved in Eminem music."

The edumacation continues

Things I learned today:

I like iced coffee more than Monster energy drinks.

I need a new blazer before I go on another interview, since the one I have looks shiny and lounge-lizard ish. Which is cool for clubs, but not for conservative financial recruiters.

True friends appear in the most unlikely of places, and they perform amazing feats of friendship in the most unlikely of times. (Thanks to Fernando)

Rhumba Shorts are cool.

Lindsay Lohan goes commando. (Thanks (?) to Avitable)

You apparently can 'break up' with someone you aren't dating and never had any intention of dating, and barely considered a friend in the first place. (More on that later)

The lyrics to 'the witch doctor' go "Ooo eee, ooo ah ah, ting tang, walla walla bing bang" not "Ching Chang, walla walla" as I originally suspected. (Thanks to Kapgar for making me look that one up.)

My cheese wrapper told me that "cows are able to float 20 miles in large floods".

The new song - 'I gotta stay fly' by Three 6 Mafia (featuring Young Buck, 8ball & MJG) is awesome. I don't know who any of those additional rappers are...but I have to give them props otherwise I'll be shived walking down the street.

Oh, and it's hard to be a pimp. Word.

Easily Amused

I swear. I laugh (nay, giggle-snort : a step up from laughter) at these Mac Commercials every time. And the unveiling of a new commercial is more exciting to me than doing the pee-pee dance running up stairs.

Is it the really simple jokes? Am I mentally ill? Or is it my MacMuffin, and his insufferable mop-haired cuteness?

Who knows.

But I have a Mac, so I guess it worked. I'm a slave to the advertising world.

Giggle-snort.

Cosby Bebop

Courtesy of Avitable, this has got to be the strangest, yet most hypnotic thing I've seen all day.

The Cosby Bebop.

It'll make you want Jello.

micro-derma-who-cares

Confronted with the obvious signs of aging: crows feet, wrinkles, laugh lines, sun damage and (gasp!) age spots...I decided it was time to go the way of all Los Angeleno women, and get me some spiffy micro-dermabrasion.

V and I went to the haute salon in San Elijo Hills (near Encinitas/San Diego) for our treatments. Having never been to a salon, let alone a haute one, we were both unprepared for the strangeness to follow.

Frauline Helga, my esthetician, was rough, abrupt, and yet complimentary. She told me I had beautiful skin, and when I told her my age, she had the kindness to fake a gasp in surprise. I also got a very positive thumbs up for staying out of the sun, something only my mother has complimented me on before. Sort of like chewing the colored pill at the dentists office and not having many spots you missed while brushing. Yay me!

Forced to get nekkid, shoeless and towel-wrapped was the first in the line of horrors - why a facial treatment needed to involve my feet - I'm not sure. V, rebellious, refused to take off her clothes. She put her wrap over her dress, and stomped off with her esthetician, indignant. We were separated - feeling like sisters at Birkenau, marching off to endure horrors, never to see each other again.

After laying alone in a sickly purple room the size of an optometrists' office, I was then treated to the explanation of the micro-dermabrasion machine. 'This is sand. It will come out this hole, and be sucked up by this hole'. That's it. She flipped on the human vacuum, and sandpapered and sucked my face. It felt much like being pet with sandpaper. It was soft. I expected more of a rough 'ow' kind of experience, as I'm paying good money for this pain. As V later said - "we know it's good only if it hurts."

After the sandpapering, she then slathered my face with creams smelling of roses, and gave me a foot massage. See - feet are important to the whole facial rejuvenation experience. Also, the creams were massaged into my neck and shoulders - thus explaining the clothes removing. It was very uncomfortable, and I clenched the table the whole time. Not that I feared Helga was going to violate me, but you never know. I AM young and cute.

V got the Glycolic mask instead, and I heard her screaming from my room. Of course, she looked better. Pain really does make a difference. But with her clothes on, she didn't get the massage or foot cream...so I at least had prettier feet for a few hours.

Helga told me that I did not need to come back again except for 'maintenance' which was monthly of course. If I continued to go, I'd have to live in a hovel and eat top ramen. The price we pay for beauty. We looked at some products...the best was a cream made of cow udder something...I believe it was cow secretions. I'm trying hard to block it out, since it was not only disturbing, but it also cost more than my car.

My face looked the same, but shinier, so I washed it as soon as I got home. With makeup on, I looked like I just went for a run - redder, shinier, but the same. Oh well.

Maybe when I start looking like Jessica Tandy, I'll head on out there again. And get the painful one.

God, I miss the 80s.

and the best for last...

I dare you not to sing along.

Ode on Banana Underwear

I hate the word 'panties'.

Ahem...

Thou unworn underwear still and quiet,
banana underwear of silence and slow time,
oh!, fruity rumba short how I rejoice in thee.
What trendy and fine bananas haunt your shape,
What mad meshy and sweet pursuit? What wild ecstasy?

A ruffled extravaganza unheard,
Bananas play on;
Bananas cannot fade, reflector of my soul and tushie
For ever will thou be false bananas, and forever young
yet, do not grieve, they be fair!

Ah, happy Urban Outfitters hath directed the world
in it's search for banana underwear.
To the dollar strewn altar, mysterious 20-something priest
takes my money and lows
'Once underwear is worn, can ne'er return.'

O ruffled shape! O bananas golden!
Thou, underwear shall not remain silent,
in midst of other woe, to whom thou say'st,
'Bananas are underwear, Underwear bananas, -
That is all you know on earth, and all you need to know.'


Take that, John Keats.