WHAT SAY YOU, MARTHA STEWART LIVING?

Excerpt from “Hanging Versus Folding”:

“After washing, you have two choices: to hang or to fold. Which is best for a particular item depends on several factors…Deciding when to hang and when to fold is only part of the job, however. On the following pages we show you the best ways to do both, so your clothes are ready when you are.”

4:48 p.m.


ODDS AND ENDS

Three things to consider:

  • I’ve never seen a female cab driver in San Francisco.
  • There’s a hearse parked on Mission St. that has a Jack-In-The-Box antenna ball.
  • A billboard: “Joint Juice. A full-day’s supply of glucosamine. Building cartilage has never tasted so good.”

Three food items I don’t understand:

  • Pre-cooked bacon
  • The pecans in mixed nuts
  • Maple doughnuts

2:10 p.m.


I GROW OLD, I GROW OLD

Yesterday was my birthday, and I had a good time. I spent the day baking, carving pumpkins, and thinking of reasons why 26 is old. I don’t understand bubble tea, I’ve never been to a rave, and all the Saturday morning cartoons suck. My CD collection features entirely too much James Taylor, I had knee surgery this year, and I’m really starting to notice when the refrigerator needs cleaning. On the upside, I no longer order drinks with schnapps in them, I don’t apologize for things that aren’t my fault, and I make a mean peanut butter cookie.

3:45 p.m.


LADIES NIGHT: SEAMSTRESS ADVENTURES

Lady 1: What have you been up to with work?

Lady 2: I made a play suit for this guy.

Lady 1: A “play” suit?

Lady 2: That’s what he called it. It was basically a body suit with modifications.

Lady 3: What kind of modifications?

Lady 2: Well it took me awhile to figure out what he wanted, he wouldn’t just spit it out. He’s like, “Can you make it really fitted?” and I’m like, “Yeah.” And he’s like, “I mean, I want it to fit me really well everywhere.” And I’m like, “Kay…” And he says, “I want it to have three little pouches.” So I say, “You mean you basically want a ball sack?”

Lady 4: Three pouches?

Lady 2: That’s what I was thinking. I’m like (confused expression, counts on fingers). I was like, “This is gonna have to be a small, medium, large thing, because I’m not interested in getting that personal.”

Lady 5: What color was it?

Lady 2: Bright yellow.

Lady 6: YELLOW?

Lady 2: Yep.

Lady 6: What is that?

Lady 4: Chiquita fetish.

Lady 5: He’s got the fruit hat at home, and a set of castanets.

Lady 6: Come over here, mama’s big ba-nan-ah!

4:01 p.m.


…AND SCREAM, AND SCREAM

I saw a bus-stop ad yesterday that read, “I scream, you scream, we all scream for pork tenderloin.”

3:31 p.m.


SLEEVES FOR THE NEEDY

Went to the SF Oktoberfest on Saturday. Drunken button-down dude was outside on his cell, “No, I’m busy later on. Tonight. This is a one-night offer. Tonight, that’s it.” I don’t know why he had to call for reinforcements; Oktoberfest women were of the willing variety. It was a sea of horrible toga tank tops, and those double-slit skirts that resemble loincloths. My favorite one-sleeved chick was alternately playing with her hair and pulling at her itchy, itchy skirt while talking to a bleary young man. Surrounded by 20 booths with 40-foot signs screeching SPATEN!, HEFEWIZEN!, KARLSBERGER!, she turned to her target demographic and said, “So, where do I go to get beer?”

4:53 p.m.


TOUCHED BY DAVE FOLEY

I went to the El Vez Boxing with God Tour on Friday, and Dave Foley introduced the band. About ten minutes later, I looked over and he was standing next to me. Dave Foley, Mr. David Foley, the-cute-one-from-Kid’s-In-The-Hall was standing right next to me.

Me: You are the funniest man alive. (ohmygod.davefoleystandsradientbeforemeinallhisapple-cheekedglory.) Extend my hand.

Dave Foley: Shakes my hand. Ha! Well, thank you.

Me: (iwillplowthornyfieldsinbarefeetfortwentyyearsifonlyyou’lltouchmyhandagain) You’re welcome. I’m Maggie.

Dave Foley: Nice, to meet you. I’m Dave.

Me: So I’ve heard. (takemehereandnow) Nice to meet you, too (youruggedcanadianbeast). Enjoy the show.

Dave Foley: Thanks.

(update: I’m not alone. Meena knows what it is to yearn for a cross-dressing Ralph Reed lookalike.)

2:27 p.m.


GENTLE READER: A LETTER FROM COSMO

-How to be cool. Hot. Or not. CSOMO puts you in charge.

-GO FOR IT! Jump start your life. With the fun. The fashion. The juicy essence of life only COSMO would know.

-Be an ice princess. Or a total hottie.

-No hunk too hot to fall. Make him yours. Body and soul.

-He’s already drooling.

-Make him your love slave.

-Don’t just sip life…GULP IT DOWN!!!

Dear Friend:

I know what you’re thinking. COSMO is about sex. Seduction. How to win a guy by any means. Fair or unfair.

Okay, we admit it. It’s a sexy, addictive, fun-to-read magazine. It’s what women obsess about. No contest.

BUT COSMO GOES SO MUCH DEEPER. Because COSMO is really about YOU.

About your life. What turns you on. What gets your juices flowing…

From the unlawfully luscious Dylan McDermott.
To erotic astrology…

Yes, we all want it. A satisfying life. A great guy. Great sex. And COSMO WILL help you enjoy all of that. Everything you’ve imagined in your wildest dreams.

(over, please)

HUNDREDS OF FASHION FINDS. Edgy fringe tops. Flashdance foxy ways to update ’80s cool… Beauty tips every man magnet must have.

Yes…you get it! Embellish. Entice. Add sass to class. Add COSMO ATTITUDE!

WE’LL TELL YOU…

How to resist pigging out with your man.

How to squelch the belch. And when to see a doctor.

LIES. LIES. GUYS.

Does lying come with the territory? Is it a necessary evil of the fun-loving and not-really-committed?

Only when WE do it! For those times when honesty is the worst policy. COSMO shares invaluable, fave fibs!

Is HE lying? Hey, he can’t get away with that! Become a lie detector. Learn to read the six body-language signs that will flush out any rat.

MAKE HIM ACHE FOR YOU.

We don’t believe in fair. And we have an arsenal of weapons.

You have nothing to lose, and lots of fun to gain. So mail your savings certificate now.

Sincerely,

Kate White

Editor-In-Chief

2:42 p.m.


I FEEL PRETTY

You guys broke my Geocities site. Bastards. Oh well, it was time for me to leave my punk-rock lifestyle behind. As I moved in a hurry, there’s bound to be some mess to clean up. Please let me know if you come across broken links, images, spelling errors, or anything else that’s embarrassing, but not intentionally so. Thanks for all the “what up?” notes and the patience while I relocated.

3:30 p.m.