Headline of the Year

There is no question that I am easily amused; even so, I found a headline in today's Philadelphia Inquirer to be really special:

"Gay-porn twins are burglars, police say"

My first thought was "overachievers!" I mean, most identical twins would be content to be either gay-porn stars or burglars...and these guys managed to juggle two separate, and uniquely demanding, careers.

But then I realized this was simply another poignant example of the sorry state of today's economy. It's tragic that a couple of dudes can't make enough money to support themselves doing whatever it is guys do in a gay film (alright, I know what they do, but being a mom I'm contractually prohibited from using the terminology) and have to resort to moonlighting in breaking and entering.

And then I actually read the article. It was even better than I expected! One twin, Taleon, is a gymnast and karate expert who managed a 2006 escape from police by kicking out a cruiser window and jumping into a lake...swimming away while handcuffed.

The other twin, Keyontyli, has a funky name. Oh, and he attended the Barbizon School of Modeling.

This story has all the making of a Lifetime TV movie. (Are you allowed to reference gay porn on Lifetime? If not, there's always Logo.)


The boys reportedly perform under the names "Teyron" and "Keyron"... and the Inquirer tells me they "shared an infamous sex scene with porn superstar Marc Williams." Which just goes to show that you can be a porn "superstar" and I still won't know who-the-freak you are. My life is so, so sheltered.

And how were our handsome soon-to-be-made-into-a-TV-movie twins caught? Breaking into a beauty parlor.

Lunatic

Sometime in my early adulthood, I read in a goofy meaning-of-names book that my given name, Cynthia, means "moon goddess."

For all practical purposes, this has had no significance in the course of my life. But it made a name I didn't like very much seem kinda cool (in that mystical way that maybe only a child of the 70's can appreciate.)

Anyway -- if our household wasn't in the midst of being ravaged by some life-sucking virus (most likely a flu strain not prevented by the flu shot) I'd have more of a set-up for the photos below (which I took about an hour ago.)



Who knows why we all felt compelled to go out in the freezing weather and look at the lunar eclipse.

Maybe it's because my daughters were looking for an excuse to stay up late.

Maybe it's because a star from the constellation Leo is in the sky with that eclipsed moon (mystical dead cat and general astrological connection.)

Maybe it's simply because I like taking pictures (of basically anything.)

Regardless, I was really thinking I saw the profile of the man in the moon here.

But maybe it's just the flu.

Surviving February

How many times in your life has someone come up to you and said, “I can’t wait until February!”?

That’s right – zero. Zilch. Nada.

Because February is the evil stepmother of the Gregorian calendar. She might look pretty when the light is right, but take a step outside and you’ll discover her heart is made of ice.

The days are short, the air is chilly, the Seasonal Affective Disorder people are cranky. The best thing I can say about February is that it’s the month I can pretty much count on not having to shave my legs above the knee. Which saves me approximately 2.5 minutes a day -- 2.5 minutes generally spent shivering (evidently, the hair on my upper legs isn’t a great insulator.)

For the shortest month of the year, February has more than its fair share of Days (with a capital “D”): Groundhog Day, Valentine’s Day, Presidents’ Day. This trio of so-called holidays is obviously the product of a government conspiracy -- a futile attempt to distract us from the fact that it is numbingly cold outside. And really, how diverting is a groundhog anyway? Unless he suddenly turns on his handler, I’m not interested.

Valentine’s Day? Ever since the media discovered the magical antioxidants in dark chocolate, we no longer need an excuse to buy our own candy -- year-round. Thus Valentine’s Day becomes just another day when it’s really hard to find a babysitter, and even harder to get a decent dinner reservation.

Presidents Day does not involve dining or sweets; therefore, it is useless.

And it may seem like the cruelest of jokes, but February 5th is…National Weatherman’s Day – celebrating the only people who get aroused by the term “Blizzard of the Century.”

Time-traveling from January to March isn’t a viable option (believe me, I’ve tried…but it only resulted in me standing in my kitchen with my eyes squeezed shut, fingers crossed, chanting something vaguely cuss-word-ish…and it’s really embarrassing when somebody walks in on that.)

Therefore, there is only one way to cope with February – cocooning. And, at the risk of seeming immodest, I’ve got cocooning down pat.

In fact, I’m pretty sure I could happily spend the entire month of February without stepping foot outside my house, if it weren’t for that pesky thing commonly referred to as a “job.”

Bringing me to the First Law of Cocooning: Call in sick – a lot. Tell your boss you’re suffering from an acute case of Cheimatophobia (fear of cold) which may be developing into Pagophobia (fear of ice or frost) and that both are highly contagious. (Listen, if you can correctly pronounce “Cheimatophobia” you’ve earned the right to a couple of days off.)

Second Law of Cocooning: You must stock up on groceries, preferably non-perishable items such as canned goods, shelf-stable milk, Ramen Noodles, and Velveeta. (Yes, one could argue that these are not actually edible foodstuffs. But they will call up fond memories of those ole college days.) Oh, and don’t forget the most essential food group -- dark chocolate.

Third Law of Cocooning: Everything you need to know, think, and buy is on the internet. Between networking sites like MySpace and Facebook, YouTube (best place to get your hard-hitting news stories, although they may be acted out with hand puppets) and an army of internet retailers happy to deliver whatever book Oprah commands you to read…well, the world is at your non-frostbitten fingers.

Have some relevant DVDs netflixed to your door: “Cabin Fever” (even if you’re chilly, at least you don’t have a horrifying flesh-eating virus); “28 Days Later” (at least you don’t have a horrifying virus that turns you into a flesh-eating zombie); or “Cocoon” (at least you’re not that old.)

What about the kiddies? Engage your children in a practical craft – helping you build light boxes for your bright light therapy. The SAD will be vanquished and the tots will learn valuable carpentry skills (as well as some funny new words when Mommy accidentally whacks thumb with hammer.)

Or, for a slightly less-practical activity, allow your youngsters to take the literal route and spin their very own cotton candy cocoon! Imagine the joy on your little ones’ faces as they encase themselves in sticky spun sugar. Priceless.

And how could we forget Dad? With no pesky football to distract him, he’ll be happy to play the role of manservant to Mom’s wrapped-in-blankets-from-head-to-toe queen. (A girl can dream, can’t she?)

So, there you have it. Everything you need for a perfectly satisfactory lifestyle, free from wind chill factor.

And this February, we’ve got a whole extra 29th day to enjoy! Yippee.

All Vai Aside

Well, I was all set to blog a bit about how we saw local TV guy Vai Sikahema walking his dog in our neighborhood this afternoon.

Well, actually my husband saw him...I was attempting to memorize the contents of the Target circular (a plan of attack is essential when discount shopping!) as we drove by Vai.

Anyway, my intention was to tie in the sighting with an observation about how the only celebs we have locally are TV news people (and isn't that a just a little bit sad?)

Unfortunately, a series of distractions called to me when I sat down to blog. First, was a very funny Aimee Mann YouTube trilogy (and she is just adorable)...



...then, I somehow found myself playing with a photosphere in Second Life.

A bit of everything...with no attempt to match

So, sorry Vai, I will not be elaborating on your stellar appearance on our street. Even though you seem like a swell guy. Even though you've got the best name of any Philadelphia anchorman (Just say it out loud folks -- "Vai Sikahema" -- it dances off the tongue!)

I won't even go into how I saw Vai jogging shirtless last summer. Or how we learned that he likes sushi.

Instead (because I am lazy and words seem to be hurting my head at the present moment) I will present a Second Life snapshot (dedicated to Merujo) of Dwight Shelford's apartment - Dwight Shelford being the avatar of the fictional Dwight Schrute of The Office fame.

Let's see...we've got the pretend apartment of a pretend avatar based on a pretend human. This is seeming more and more pointless all the time. But I guess that's the point.

Being a homeless avatar, I'm continuously looking for a quiet place to change "my" clothing...and it was for that purpose that I spent a bit of time in Dwight's deserted apartment a while back.

The Office-inspired booze cruise ship in the sky below was my changing room another day.


I promise some real actual sentences next post. Although I can't promise those sentences will be of any relevance whatsoever.

It's Official

When I first registered to vote, way back in...well, no need to mention a specific year, lest you be horrified by my advanced age. Let's just say my mantra at the time was "Disco sucks."

Anyway, I've been an "Independent" for my entire voting career. Didn't want to be beholden to any master (or something like that.)

But today, I voted in my first primary...today, I am a Democrat.

Now let's get one in the White House.