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5:28 p.m. - 2010-01-25
She's here and there as usual.

I know the point of advertisements is to get your attention long enough to make you aware of a product or service, but I have to wonder about some of the sidebar adverts I've been getting online. This one mortgage company uses pics of scary looking Unabomber types. Hairy unkempt crazy-eyed guys. Do I truly want to trust my finances and home to a company that uses guys who give me the shivering willies in their advertising? What does that say about the company's care of my comfort and security? Even now after the greed fueled meltdown of the banking industry, I'd like to think I can trust my mortgage company, and a mortgage broker that deliberately wants me squicked out and upset isn't one I'm ever going to business with. Way to shoot yourselves in the foot, guys. Yeah, you got my attention with your freaky Charles Manson look-a-likes, so much so that I am firm in my decision that you'd be the LAST company I'd ever hire.


Also upsetting was this morning's earworm- 'Bad Blood' by the phenomenally annoying Neil Sedaka. That Elton John sang backup on that piece of auditory tripe honks me off too. Despite some career missteps and his recent descent into schmaltzy show tunes, I like Elton John. His music is huge part of my life's soundtrack. So his participation in that foul song makes me cranky.

Oh, a few words about the heat-less. I know from my time as the prettiest plumber in the Hudson Valley that there must be heat. In this area by law a residence has to have an approved heating system. You cannot get a mortgage nor even if you pay cash can you get a C.O. (certificate of occupancy) if your place doesn't come with heat. It's even touch and go about alternative heat like pellet stoves and such. No furnace? No live there. If you're buying a summer home without heat then you must prove you have a properly heated primary residence. Now I know in the city if every living space were brought up to code about 2/3s of the people living in Manhattan would be forced to move out, what I objected to was slathering their lifestyle choice with all sorts of artistic sensibility and virtue. Fine, you want to hang onto your unheated sublet with the $300 a month rent at any personal sacrifice in regards to utilities and indoor plumbing, that's your biz, but don't try to make like you're in it because you're so noble. Especially you free loaders who sponge off your friends and lovers all winter, cheerfully availing yourself to their heat and hot water gratis while still portraying yourself as some kind of pious enviro purist and urban pioneer. I used to spend my summers at the shore in beach huts with outdoor salt water showers and 'kitchens' that were nothing but ice chests and a bbq outside the backdoor, but I don't act all uppity about what a friend to the Earth I was and how the art I made was so pure for my roughing it. I was broke and did what I had to because I wanted to live at the beach, okay? Okay.

She Who Shops hit the jackpot yesterday at my favorite boutique, Old Navy. Clearanced stuff was an additional 50% off the lowest marked price. To wit: A bulky turtleneck, a thinner rib knit turtleneck, a gauzy blouse, 3 long sleeved t-shirts, a hoodie, a pair of yoga pants and a pair of cute fleece gloves for me and 2 graphic print henleys for Wolf. Grand total? $34.75. The Old Navy mojo was running fierce yesterday. Yeah, I had birthday money to blow as I would, but that doesn't mean I'd ignore my rule of NEVER paying full retail for clothing. To me the whole point of whimsy shopping is get the most bang for my buck. The gloves, workout pants and the sweaters I'll add to the wardrobe rotation immediately, but the other things I'll tuck away and then when the late winter blahs set in I'll pull out something new and fresh and be glad of it. When the nasty dregs of March drag on and on and it seems like it'll never be spring donning that snazzy lilac striped shirt will cheer me up a lot.

Tomorrow I'll wear my new pink yoga pants to the gym, pull serious weight on the machines and enjoy feeling both girly and butch at the same time.

A collection of delightful contradictions, ~LA

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