Odd Circumstance

I must always remind myself that life only exists because of odd circumstance.

The strange things that happen in the world that make other things happen that makes other things... and so on.

If Hitler was killed in the first (organized) assassination attempt (by Hitler's own people) was on March 11, 1944, the war would have ended 14 months earlier, saving countless lives. Entire generations would exist. But that attempt failed. As did SEVENTEEN other, one as early as November 8, 1939 in which a disgruntled cabinetmaker who resented Nazi control over unions planted a bomb during one of Hitler's speeches. For some reason, Hitler left 8 minutes earlier than planned and avoided his own death. When the bomb exploded, it killed several Nazi party members and even injured Eva Braun's father. Can you imagine if Johann Elser had succeeded in killing Hitler in 1939. A mere 8 minutes cost the world so much.

And there is also Alicia Foster. She started acting when she was 3 but didn't recieve her big

break until she was 14. And all the while a young man was watching, pining over the beautiful girl on the silver screen. He began writing her love letters and following her around Yale's campus while she made her way to classes. She would call her at all hours and became increasingly creepy. John Hinckley Jr. decided he would have to kill then president Ronald Regan to get her attention. Jodie Foster would later state in court that they had no relationship, to which he flipped his shit and stated "I'll get you Foster!". Hinckley fired six times. Four were hit. Everyone survived. The press secretary was hit in the head and lost the use of the left side of his body. The last bullet he fired missed the president, hit the presidential limo, allowing the bullet to richote and hit Regan in the armpit, collapsing his lung. Think of all the things that had to happen for that moment to happen... Little Alicia's mom decides not to take her to the Coppertone commercial, that acting isn't what her child needs. Or perhaps John sought help for his increasingly delustional thoughts. Or even if the president had moved a little to the left, George Bush Sr. would have been president 4 years earlier than he was.

(By the way, Hinckley is currently living only part time in the mental hospital. He has 4 days/nights a week he's allowed to stay with his parents, under their supervision. Keep an eye out Jodie... If I were you I would not be cool with that...)

All to a simple twist of fate.

Now there are some who say, it doesn't matter, it all would have happened anyway. Hitler could have died in 1939, but someone just as bad would have taken his place and history would have taken the same path. Or if Jodie hadn't been a star, Hinckley would have found someone else to obsesse over and still have shot the president. I don't know. I'm no psychic.

I just think "What if?"

Lucky no more

Little Tzatziki??

I'm thinking about getting a puppy.

My friend Lane has a 4 month old Yorkshire Terrier, Lucky, and with her crazy schedule she doesn't feel like she can take care of him like she should. So that's where I come it.

But the name "Lucky" would have to go...
These are the alternative names I've come up with so far:

1. Pickle
2. Chilli
3. Flapjack
4. Max
5. Frankie
6. Henry
7. Tevye
8. Peanut
9. Wedge
10. Lando
11. Rhett
12. Oliver
13. Riff
14. Roscoe
15. Harry
16. Chewie
17. Tzatziki
18. Stoli
19. Neville
20. Charlie

Any opinions?

Up and running

For most, starting a new business is a real bitch.

I have found my experience thus far quite enjoyable.

I am up and running my jewelry business through Etsy.com, which by the way is an amazing website. I can get myself a one of a kind piece and feel good about supporting an undiscovered artist.

When I sat on those long, boring flights, I would find myself doodling, inadvertently designing jewelry. So over the last few months I have been working on my line and now it's open to the public. I simply loaded photos up, wrote out descriptions and there it was, up and running. Etsy doesn't take a huge cut like ebay does and the community is much more supportive.

Got any handmade wonders at your house? Sign up and go for it on Etsy. I love it and you will too.

Just a few of my favorite painters and my favorite works of theirs-

• Gustav Klimt (see Tree of Life, Musique, Adele Bloch

  

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• Maxfield Parish (see The Dinky Bird, Ecstasy)
• Maurice Sendak (see Where the Wild Things Are)
• Tamara Lempicka (see La Dormeuse)
• Marc Chagall (see La Mariee, Promanade, Les Fiancees)
• Van Gogh (see Almond Branches)
• Auguste Rodin (see Hands, Kiss)
• Da Vinci (see Female Head)
• Picasso (see Blue Nude, Dog)
• Degas (see Le Tub)
• Edvard Munch (see Madonna, Vampire)
• Amedeo Modigliani (see any portrait)
• Ando Hiroshige (see Navaro Rapids)
• Monet (see Poppies, San Giorgio Maggiore)
• Rembrandt (see A sketch of Hansken)

Screw V-----'s Day

I will not be bitter.

Just because I'm going through a love crisis doesn't mean I can't be filled with love on this corporate made holiday.

My best friend Benny gave me a bear with a heart on it's belly, holding a bag full of chocolates. He said that he knew I hated V day but that he thought it was a nice gesture and he knew I needed a little something. Sweet guy. Good friend. Cute bear.

So I will accept that V day is about recieving love from friends, family and the universe and not necessarily from a boyfriend.

But I'm still not going to say the word.

Happy V day everyone. And share the love.

Car drama-rama

"aka give the mechanic $400"

Why?

Why, whenever it rains it pours?

My car got rear ended and essentially destroyed. Fine. The asshole runs off but conveniently leaves his license plate. Awesome. But for some unexplainable reason, my insurance and his insurance can seem to play nice and I still have yet to receive my deductible back. Sweet. So I buy a new used car and it's been great, except last night, Day 5 of ownership, the check engine light comes on and now I've got to pay for a diagnostic. Groovy. And to top off my crap cake, I got my medical bills from the accident yesterday and I own the gross nation product of a small third world country. Fan-freaking-tastic.

I'm getting the sage out PRONTO and giving my car a spiritual karmic overhaul. Maybe a bit of chanting. Or some ritual dancing.

*UPDATE*
Make that $600. Had to replace the temperature gauge and a few other things. Thank you certified used....

By the way...

This is what my January looked like.
Check out Wordle. Bitchin.

About Wordle and other weirdness

• Wordle (mizzinformation.blogspot.com)
• Twitter Delicious Tags on Wordle (twittermaven.blogspot.com)

Not your grandma's tea

I'm sorry.

My beautiful and talented friend Nina has come down with a sore throat and cough and it's my fault. I thought I was being careful enough when I was sick but not careful enough...

So to make it up to my gorgeous girl I am posting (then making) this recipe for her. Great for sore throats or just a cold winter's day. By the way, this one's for the adults only.

Cup of your fav tea (stay away from caffeinated if it's close to bedtime)
Honey (change it up with some flavored honey if you want)
Whiskey (whatever your preference; I'm a Jack girl myself...)
Lemon Slices

1. Make yourself or have your friend (me) make you some tea and fill your favorite mug 2/3 of the way full.
2. Stir in a teaspoon of honey, or more if you like it sweeter.
3. Toss in a shot of whiskey, or more if you like it boozier. (What? It's a word.)
4. Floats some lemons and you have yourself some yummy, boozy goodness.

Enjoy my beauties and thanks to forkable.blogspot.com for the recipe. It kept Nina from flinging used tissues at me.

Oh Coffee!

"aka My Crack"

Ode to Coffee
by Celluloid Darling

Oh Coffee!
You brighten my day and light up my life.
When you're in my cup
It's as if there is no war, no pain, no strife!


Oh Coffee!
You have the most beautiful color and smell
Without your caffeine and sugar
Life would be a sleepy and dreary hell

Oh Coffee!
From the shop I hear your call
I thank you for everything
For without you I would KILL THEM ALL!!!

Thank you.
*snap snap snap snap*

Pin me up

Soooo, I've been thinking about how I look as of late.

The older I get, the worse it gets.

It's nature. Things lose their battle against gravity. The pounds start to pack on... I was thinking to myself, in 20 years I won't even recognize myself. My own mother tells me all the time. "I look in the mirror and think, 'who is that person?'"

So I have decided I need to get some pictures taken, to show my kids one day. "Look! Mommy used to be hot!" And the fact that since The Chief left, I have been feeling kind of down about myself. I think having some vain moments can help one's self esteem. Couldn't hurt, right?

I have found a photo studio that does the coolest pinup photography. I have always loved that look: beautiful, natural looking girls (ie no sticks) in provocative (ie not naked) outfits looking adorable, sexy and gorgeous. I want that for myself. I can look like Ingrid Bergman in Casablanca, wearing that fabulous form fitting suit or a polka dotted dress and wide brimmed hat like Norma Jean.

It's expensive, it makes me a little nervous, but I think it will be good for me. And when I'm all wrinkly and dried up, I can look at my picture and think, DAMN! I was a hot dish back in the day.

Then I can drive around my house in my Rascal screaming about pudding and waiting for my Social Security check to come it! Only kidding... we all know that people my age will NEVER see any Social Security money.

Shmuper Shmol

If I have to watch one more commercial where a hot chick gets her clothes ripped off by magic, I'm gonna go on a gun-toting, crotch-firing rampage.

The latest Super Bowl, I mean Shmuper Shmol , commercial has a guy eating a Dorito, I mean Shmorito, and a girl's clothes flying off.

Now in my experience, the more a guy eats Shmoritos, the more I want to keep my clothes on. Stinky breath, orange dusty fingers and the accumulation of transfat, calories and orange tongue is not hot.

And I am so tired of looking at teeny tiny ghosts of women who men can't seem to get enough of... It's because they're not even there. I want a man who loves a real woman with real breast, real hips, who eats carbs without shame and yes, wants desert.

If he exists, I'll find him. And if not, then keep the TV on. I'm gonna be on the 9 o'clock news, surrounded by dozens of downed men in the fetal position.