June 26, 2007

Fu and TeeVee, Sittin' in a Tree...

You know how I always say "TV is good for you?"

It's allegedly tongue in cheek, no matter how much I argue that my weekly intake of hotness that is Franco on "Rescue Me" is vital to my health and well being. (No really, hotness on that show, and not just Franco. Is every man just hotter in a firefighter uniform? Even Denis Leary is hot on this show, and I never once found the man even remotely attractive, except for his onscreen flirtation with the Hotness of Renee Russo Before She Got Weird-Looking in "The Thomas Crown affair," and his accent, which I can never quite pinpoint as precisely Boston but is still hot. But I don't like how everyone always interviews him on those Red Sox World Series DVDs. Is it too much to ask for a little Damon/Affleck action? Sheesh, Ben is only out there at every damn important homegame. Remember when he had a movie career? Where was I?)

But really, I can't believe it took me almost 28 years to realize the glory that is the Sleep Timer.

I've never been a morning person. Getting out of bed, for this chick, is basically the worst possible thing to happen in my usual day. Which explains some of my epic snoozefests of the past, including one beauty from when I first moved into my own apartment (no one to judge me!) and slept one Friday night from two in the morning until three in the afternoon the next day. Without even getting up to pee. I really don't know how I accomplished this, and I really don't think I'll ever duplicate it. I'm so old now that the next time I sleep for that long, I might not wake up at all.

So, I'm the girl who sleeps through her alarm and is late for work several times a year, reigning Queen of the Snooze Button (for what it's worth, also reigning Queen of Showing Up to Work with Wet Hair Due to Lack of Time to Dry it Due to Oversleeping; Queen of Showing Up to Work with Dirty Hair Due to Lack of Time to Even Shower Due to Oversleeping; Queen of Using a Sick Day for No Reason Other Than Just.Can't.Get.Out.Of.BED.; and Queen of All Things Awesome--just cuz).

I've always just thought I was a night person. I never get sleepy at night, I always end up reading until the wee hours, or getting trapped into a movie that started at 11, etc. etc. etc.

That is, until about just over a week ago, when my entire life changed forever. The Sleep Timer!

I decided to watch "Army Wives" in bed last Sunday night. I was about 20 minutes in when I shut my eyes and didn't open them again until the alarm blared to life at 730 the next morning. Whuzzuh? How now? Hrmph? I didn't even NEED to press snooze. (I know! That's apparently what happens when you fall asleep at 10:20 and sleep straight through the night.)

The next night I figured, "Well, let's watch that 'Law and Order Special Victims Unit' episode in bed, and maybe set the timer whooziewhatsit so it shuts off...just in case you fall asleep again."

I think I only experienced about 10 minutes of the Hotness of Detective Eliot Stabler before I was snoozing heavy.

WTF, mates? How did I not know before that watching TV in bed puts people to sleep? I've never felt more rested in my life! In fact, for the last four business days straight (and Sunday, although that was later in the morning) I've pulled my rested old booty out of bed at SIX-FIFTEEN to hit up the gym for an hour before work (I know!!!). Just because I'm falling asleep so fast and early that I don't need to sleep until 730 anymore. Holy shit!

And I owe it all to TV.

Oh, TV! Sniff, just when I thought you couldn't find another way to enrich my life aside from all those "Roseanne" marathons on Nickleodeon.

June 19, 2007

You're Obviously Not a Golfer...

I actually have a good excuse for being so slack lately: my computer is infected with a whooziewhatsit, and I've been afraid to turn it on until I get it fixed. The last time I turned it on the screen went red (aaaaah!), and while everything still seemed to function and I didn't seem to have lost any files or anything, I'm basically terrified to use it until I can take it to someone to get all my anti-whooziewhatsits software in line and clean out whatever the frack is in there.

And while I can always use my work laptop to update from home, the last thing I want to do after working, gymming, cleaning, getting something to eat, blah blah blah, is haul out my laptop case and hook everything up and, laaaaazy Fu. Laaazy. Get it?

My sick laptop was always just there, always on, always already connected. Alls I had to do was pick it up. Maybe that's how the whooziewhatsit snuck on in there, eh?

Anyhow, I hate updating from work, but I figure it can't hurt to take a few minutes from my lunch break to unload the random points and thoughts from the last couple weeks:

1) The Wittle Guy! A few years back, early on in my DC days, when I was *mumble mumble ahem* pounds lighter on my feet than I am now (but still by no means teensy), I dated a guy my roommate and I dubbed "Wee Man." And this was before I even knew about the Wee Man of "Jackass" fame. There was just no other way to describe him. He was itty bitty in every way, a delicate little flower of a guy. We went out for a couple months, but I eventually grew frustrated with both his diminutive stature (I was at my thinnest at this time, yet felt like the Queen Mary whenever we went out) and his blatant homosexuality (two months, never made it past first base. And this is ME we're talking about!).

Anyhow, this is all by way of saying, I met another Wee Man a couple weeks back, and was tickled pink and amused that he seemed to basically LOVE me. This was the whole gamut. He followed me around the bar, offered to get me drinks, plopped down at my table to chat the instant my friends got up to pee...It was truly baffling. I'm not trying to be all "Boohooo, me so fat" here, but I swear I looked twice this guy's size. He was really cute and all but...no. Nooooooo. I felt kinda bad rejecting him, I mean how many guys have been that all about me lately? But really....no. I kept wanting to pat him on the head and put him in my pocket. That's not the basis of a good relationship. Unless you're like, into relationships with giants or something.

2) My Adoring Public. Most of you don't know this, but I've actually been blogging since the days of Flintstones computers made of brick, where your keyboard was hooked up to a talking prehistoric bird that used its beak as a chisel to engrave blog posts into the side of the cave. Okay, since 2001. But still, that's 42 dog years people. I don't link to my old blogs from here, for a number of reasons including but not limited to to: bad writing, embarassing anecdotes from a misspent youth, baaad writing, many posts with inside references to people you are unfamiliar with (~waves to said people~), and really bad writing. If you're dying to read about 21-year old Fu and her misadventures with the opposite sex, weight loss, boozing, and...wait a second. That sounds a lot like 27-year old Fu too (if you replace "weight loss" with "talking about wanting to acheive weight loss while secretly eating Edy's directly from carton"). I've not grown a lick in 6 years? Wtf. Oh well. If you are indeed interested, I will evaluate access to the Fu archives on a case by case basis. Just email me.

But anyway. At Strange Brew Friday night? I was RECOGNIZED! By a lovely young lady who was probably in fracking high school when she used to read me, but whose compliments I'll take just the same. I was RECOGNIZED!!!! Now, I always used to say I would never want to be famous, because people coming up to you all the time must be a huge pain in the general rectal area, but you know what? Nope, not a bit. I SO WANT TO BE FAMOUS NOW! That was great.

3) The Golf Dork. Friday night, before my night was made by My Adoring Fan, Kelly was accosted by a guy rocking Don Johnson's look in "Tin Cup," right down to the overgrown shaggy hair and the ill-advised visor. (Note to men: You can't wear visors if your hair has grown out longer than an inch or two. Just trust me. You look ridiculous.) He also had a pair of ten-dollar mall kiosk sunglasses on one of those foam rubber necklace things.

Golf Dork: Hey there, you have a beautiful smile.
Kelly: Okay, yeah, thanks.
Golf Dork: I couldn't help but notice you sitting here all alone..
Kelly: ~motions to Fu, CLEARLY SITTING RIGHT THERE ACROSS FROM HER~ Well I'm here with my FRIEND.
Fu: ~loudly~ HELLO THERE! NICE TO MEET YOU!
Golf Dork: Oh, sorry, I didn't see you there.

Come ON. I am many things, but I don't think I've ever been invisible, or been in possession of a special Harry Potter Invisibility Cloak (although hoooo baby, the things I'd do with one....also, only 32 more days until the 7th book arrives on my doorstep! EEEE!). And it's not like I'm one of these 85 pound chicks I've been seeing at the Brew lately, who disappear when they turn sideways. Give me a break, GOLF GUY. Speaking of which...

Golf Dork: So, do you golf?
Fu (he was talking to Kelly again, but I couldn't resist): No, but I'll bet YOU do.

Before you think I'm just a bitch, the guy went on to invite Kelly to help him cheat on his girlfriend, becuase "all she does is cut hair." Hm? Men, I swear. Or rather, Manch Vegas men. There were also a group of guys there with an approximately 4-foot tall bong-like structure filled with beer. How did they even get that in the bar? When did Strange Brew start allowing this? Fascinating.

4) Hampton. There really isn't another New England experience quite like Hampton Beach. I love it, I can't help it. I can't imagine going to Rye or one of the other "classy" beaches. What fun would that be? Hampton is like me: It's loud, obnoxious, trashy, often horrifying, drunken, and riddled with cigarette butts. Well, maybe I'm not riddled with butts, but my lungs probably are. Plus, I never feel fat when I hit the beach there, becuase there is inevitably at least five or six ten-year olds that outweigh me by half. Ah, white trash.

Not to mention: The deck at The Sea Ketch, an establishment I really couldn't live without. I've spent some of the finer afternoons of my life guzzling pina coladas on the deck at the Ketch. Mmm, sun and booze, mmmm.

Anyhow, back to the grind. If my computer stops spinning like a top and spewing pea soup at me every time I turn it on, I might start blogging more...

June 13, 2007

Oh, Fu. Lisa Loeb?

Inspriation from Nate this morning, who posted a semi-embarassing iPod playlist. It included Billy Joel's "She's Got a Way," snerk!

He wondered where that even came from, I'm thinking he downloaded it for a romantic mix CD or something. I imagine most guys with smurfy songs on their iPods justify their existence by the need to keep their bitches happy. And considering Nate dated my sister for what must've been three veeeery long years, I can see him as the type of guy who would go to such lengths.

(Heheh, what? She's my big sister, I'm supposed to make smart remarks at her expense!)

(Seriously though, to paraphrase my hilariously disturbed dad, he would have done less time if he'd shot her.)

(As for the rest of his list, the only questionable track I found on it was Evanessence. Hate! I just spend enough time in karaoke bars (yeah, yeah) to know that Evanessence has inspired far too many tone deaf drunken bitches to pierce my eardrums with their insipid, off-key caterwauling. Karaoke rule #1, when a singer has a distinctive, hard to mimic voice with a big range, don't even bother trying. Faith Hill = Easy. Evanessence chick = Haaard. Thus concludes today's lesson.)

(This all from the girl who thought, just Friday night, that because people seemed to really dig her rendition of Sweet Child O' Mine that she ought to give "I'm the Only One" a go. Note to self: Cannot, no really, CANNOT sing like Melissa Etheridge. Not even close, not even a little. File Etheridge under Evanessence: Do not attempt.)

Anyhow.

The whole point here is that Embarassing iPod Tracks makes an excellent filler blog post when you have nothing else of any significance to say. So here's my list, in no particular order:

Bye Bye Bye (NSYNC) - Yes. I have an NSYNC song on my iPod. I don't even have an excuse. I just like that song. I know, yes, it's true. Guess what? I've also got "It's gonna be me." This is all only marginally justifiable as "early Justin Timberlake classics" from before he got legitimately well-respected in the "biz."

Heat of the Moment (Asia) - "I mean, seriously, Asia? You framed an Asia poster? How hard did the people at the frame store laugh when you brought this in? Know how I know you're gay? Becuase you like Asia."

One Week (Barenaked Ladies) - This is one of only three BNL songs on my entire iPod. The Barenaked Ladies have many, many good songs. "One Week" is NOT one of them. I have no excuse.

Jesus Take the Wheel (Carrie Underwood) - Again, no defense. My love of La Underwood knows no bounds.

Sugar High (Renee Zellweger) - You know that scene in "Empire Records" when the guy from "Cold Case" is able to avoid going to jail for stealing several thousand dollars from his employer by throwing an illegal all night kegger at his employer's record store, and a band plays on the roof of the store without a permit and Renee Zellweger, when she was still cute and somewhat chubbed (pre-"Skeletor Suckin' on a Lemon" days), got up and sang the song with the band and she found self confidence that didn't come through banging cheesy Hasselhoff types in the accounting room OF HER EMPLOYER (without getting fired)? I have that song on my iPod. Yeah, that's right.

Africa (Toto) - What does this song MEAN? All I know is that I love it. But what does it MEAN??? Sample lyric: "The wild dogs cry out in the night, As they grow restless longing for some solitary company, I know that I must do whats right, Sure as kilimanjaro rises like olympus above the serengeti." HUH?

Do You Sleep? (Lisa Loeb) - I don't even have "Stay" on here, which would at least make sense. I mean, it was a pretty big hit during my formative years. Speaking of that one, do you watch "Reality Bites" through totally different eyes now? When I saw the movie for the first time at 15, it made total sense that Winona would pick the self-involved pseudo-intellectual pretentious philosophy-spewing shaggy-haired non-committal unemployed hottie, who had banged her and then told all their friends about it, over sweet but uptight Ben Stiller. Now that I'm 27 I'm like, "At least Ben Stiller had a JOB!" Maybe it's becuase the last guy I dated was unemployed.

In the Zone (Britney Spears) - That's right. I've got the ENTIRE ALBUM on my iPod. If you download no other track from this album, get "The Hook-up." I dare you not to shake your booty to this song. Britney actually had a lot of good songs on this album, I stand by it, it keeps me going at the gym!

Oh to heck with you guys.

June 10, 2007

Well, That Sucked

Honestly, I can kind of get the decision to end The Sopranos the way they did.

Why bother trying to come up with something that will please everyone when you can just say "what the fuck" and do something that will please no one?

Okay, I'm sure that some people, actually, will say that it was genius to do it that way, but those people are exactly the people Chase was afraid of. Any other way and they would have all bitched it wasn't good enough.

But! The point is that there are more people who wanted to see....I don't know something.

Everyone is still an asshole, right down to the Soprano children. Douchebags both, especially Meadow, probably the most vile female character on the show, including Livia and including Janice.

No accountability, at all, not even a little. No comeuppance for the people that wanted that, no whacking, no indictment. Even the FBI were acting like assholes in this episode.

So if the message of the show is that everyone's a huge shallow pointless asshole or a murderer? Well..okay. Well done.

I'm also (just for my own personal enjoyment, even if it wouldn't have had any narrative point) really sad that AJ and his stupid fucking high school girlfriend didn't blow up in his car.

On another note, I'm watching "John from Cincinnati" now...and I'm intrigued so far. I hope I don't like it too much, the last thing I need is another show.

FuManchShoe of the Year

I'm being serious. I'm not a rich girl. I'm very comfortably middle class. I own waaaay too many pairs of shoes, but at least they are all 100 dollars or less. Now that I think about it, I think the most expensive pair in my collection at the moment clocked in at $85.

So I'm not insanely extravagant. Usually.

But really? My mother, who currently foots a significant portion of my monthly student loan bills and thinks I spend too much on shoes already, is the only thing preventing me from spending (nay, charging, which is even worse) $610 frivolous dollars (actually more like $850, which is what they're going for on eBay since they are no longer available for order, like fucking hell, thanks for putting a shoe as the "hot shoe for summer" in this week's Us Weekly only for me to go online fully intending to just say "what the hell" and buy them, and then finding out I can't get them, Christian Louboutin. A-hole.) on these, my currently most-coveted shoe ever.

And shut up about their impracticality, because...pretty!!!!!! Sparkly!!!!

I think I'm going to faint. Damn you, Louboutin.

June 8, 2007

I'd Normally Make "Rock Hard" Joke Here, but...

...ew. No really, ew.

Snapped this with my camera phone a while ago and forgot about it. But I had to freeze frame my TV (God bless DVRs, right?) to make sure my eyes weren't playing tricks on me. I was watching the "Lost" finale with a friend, when a Cialis commercial came on. Cialis commercials always kill me, for a couple reasons:

1) The couple in the commercials is always old. I know that old people do it too, just look at Jack Nicholson, but it's still funny to think about.

2) There is ALWAYS side by side outdoor bathtubs involved. What do you suppose the logistics are of getting a bathtub outside? This strikes me as a plumbing problems. Second, what if the guy gets it up while in the outside bathtub? Does he get up out of his tub and join his wife in hers? What if someone sees? There's no shower curtain. You see my problem. Third, I think doing it in an outside bathtub would...suck. Especially for oldies. Someone is bound to break a hip.

But while this particular commercial was airing, well...wow.

"Is that a dick?"
"What?"
"Did you see that? There was a dick-shaped rock formation in front of the side by side bathtubs."
"Oh, there was not!"
"No, seriously, look!"
(rewind, freeze frame)
"Oh my god! That's a dick! EW!"

Like, for real Cialis. Or maybe it's just been so long since I've actually seen one that I'm hallucinating.

June 4, 2007

Facefirst Facing Fu

Good: Fu's strep throat has cleared up, she feels better.

Good: She's still been tired the last couple days, so she's been doing her yoga tape in lieu of going to the gym.

Good: She's enjoying the yoga tape enough that she actually hauled her ass out of bed a half hour earlier this morning to do it before work (I know!!!)

Bad: She did this on only four hours sleep, as she is apparently incapable of buying a book and taking a few days to read it (unless of course that book is the Ben Franklin biography she has owned for a loooong time now and is only about three quarters of the way through), and she stayed up until 3 in the morning finishing fricking Jemima J, a relatively crap-ass chick lit book involving a girl losing 100 pounds in like, six months, and not having any excess skin or anything to deal with, and instead just being a little size-2 type who gets mistook for movie stars. Please!!!!!!!!

Very Bad: A porcine feline plopping down under Fu's downward-facing dog and roly-polying around, cutely. Then, when Fu is supposed to be concentrating on sticking her leg straight up behind her in the same position, said kitty choosing to start licking her ankle. Cue faceplant!

Good: Baked Tostito Scoops and salsa!

Very, Very, Very Bad: Matthew Perry on a third season episode of "Friends" on TBS right now, weighing about 83 pounds and sporting the most pubetastic goatee I've ever seen. I loved his "on crack" season, but my god man. Incidentally, this was indeed the best season of the show, before it turned into the gay-ass "Friends in Love."

Indescribably Awesome: The Las Vegas Real World reunion show. As in, all seven of them, back living in that fricking hotel again and bitch-slapping eachother. Update: Steven is balding, Frank has gone retarded (or maybe he always was retarded?), and Trishelle is still a huge ho that looks a little bit like a duck.

June 3, 2007

Wicked Sobah

Let's just say that Lindsay Lohan's Memorial Day weekend paled in comparison to mine.

Okay, that's probably not true even a little, considering I don't do drugs. But I did indeed party hearty, as my pops might say, four nights in a row, and stumble my way into dawn's early light not once, but twice. I drank until welcoming the dawn on Saturday night, then again on Sunday.

Prrrrrobably not a good idea, as I spent Monday aching, moaning, coughing, sweating and shivering. I figured it was just a raging hangover and a bad case of the DT's, but it turns out it was raging strep throat and a bad case of a fricking high fever.

I spent this whole week rather incapacitated. I was useless at work, spent every moment not engaged in work fast asleep on my couch, rousing only to take occasional peeks at the Red Sox Scores.

Speaking of them, I freaking had to turn down free Sox tickets this week. That's how much I couldn't suck it up.

I am on day three of the old penecillin now, and feeling much better. But I had to leave a freaking birthday party tonight because I was yawning and dreaming wistfully of the Big Red Couch. Not to mention I wasn't drinking becuase I'm now convinced that my immune system needs at least 2 weeks to recover from my Lohansian Memorial Day.

I am old. And lame. And remarkably happy to be in my jammies right now. I was even annoyed by how smoky my beloved Strange Brew was tonight....even though my last appearance there I was getting change from the bartender for the cig machine and working my way through three-quarters of the damn pack.

"Why did I never notice before how cold it is in here?"
"Becuase you're sober!"

"God, it's so f'n smoky in here. It's making my eyes sting...and it stinks! Why does this normally not bother me?"
"Becuase you're SOBER."

"How come I don't feel dizzy or nauseated, or attracted to that ugly guy slumped over near the juke box?"

Okay, I made up that last one. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go to bed. This is the latest I've been awake all week, and I'm starting to nod off. This is so sad.

I apologize for my lameness. I promise to try and party next weekend so I have something interesting to say. In the meantime, could you keep it down?!? I'm trying to SLEEP.