Overkill

Look. I know you're tired of hearing about it. I'm getting tired of writing about it. But I have got to talk about it one more time. Just once. I promise. Then it will become like He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and be the Accessory-That-Must-Not-Be-Named.

I'm talking of course about the Gucci Fanny Pack.

I saw someone wearing one. At a club. In New York City.

I think Melissa and Michele thought I was crazy because I was kind of freaking out about it. Someone. Wearing one. Live. In Person.

Guess I'll go home and dust mine off.

Big Apple Surprises

1. I was coming out of the subway at 110th last night with Michele just chit-chatting after dinner. Some mini-boy with earrings said "You're cute!" as I passed. It registered, I turned around and called, "Thank you!" and continued home. Holy unexpected and exciting!

2. I was at a Rite-Aid buying breakfast (a Diet Pepsi, bag of trail mix and a box of Hot Tamales) and the Sisters were standing in front of me. They were called to separate cashiers before I could say hello. The Sister closest to me paid for her purchases and handed the female cashier a pass-along card. Being in such close proximity allowed me to hear their conversation. It was fantastically cool to hear the whole thing unfold. The cashier was really excited saying "I've been wanting to get one of these!" and filled out a referral card for a future visit. I've never even seen missionaries in the city before--let alone seen such a successful contact!

3. Some woman was carrying a plastic bag with a doll in it. The surprise came from the fact that you could only see the doll's feet--and she was so nonchalant about it! I couldn't stop giggling.

Oh the Oil Change

This morning at 8AM, I found myself at Jiffy Lube--proud that I'm being an independent adult able to take care of my most expensive of temporal possessions. (Please forget that this oil change is long overdue and the only way I could convince myself to be up, showered, packed, and ready to go pre-9AM is because I'm driving to NYC this afternoon and I swore to myself I'd die a horrific death if I didn't change the oil before I went.)

Time.

Money.

Car & Driver.

Cosmo Girl!

This was the selection of reading material. Why-o-why-o-why is this the menu of choices? WHY does Jiffy Lube have Cosmo Girl! magazine? They may as well have had a ZBop or YM. Talk about strange.

Nonetheless, in my pre-holy hours of the morning I needed the lightest of fluff to occupy my wait time. I learned the 5 things a guy is looking for in a girlfriend, what guys dig about a girl's MySpace page, what makeup is totally hawt for prom, and how to bargain with your rents to get what you really want.

Should I have:

a) stuck with looking at the pictures of 12-year-olds playing dress-up

b) taken the quiz "Are you a Fabu-Diva?"

c) put the magazine down and struck up conversation with the skeevy man staring at me

d) slept in and taken the bus to NYC

e) ___________________

Año uno

Because what's more appropriate for your 1st Blogaverrsary than a candle in soup? Like my blog, it's the perfect marrying of two completely unrelated ideas. My first blog! A year later and I find my old-self to be pretty spot-on with the direction my blog was about to take. I'm a seer!

My first comment posted by a machine (or someone with terrible grammar): Your website has a useful information for beginners like me.

308 blogs/ 365 days = .84 blogs/day
19,867 page loads /365 days = 54 page loads/day

And there's still more randomness to come! Let the fun continue...!

Arrrrrrrgh.

No, I'm not a pirate. I'm simply frustrated with my inability to and avoidance of blogging. I love to blog! So what the heck is my problem!?

I've decided that I feel pressure to blog about one thing or group of related things; make snarky commentary, tie it in a neat bow, and close out the blog. My mind isn't working that way lately. In fact, I think my life is more one-liners than anything else, so forgive me for a minute as I spout off about anything, everything, and nothing all at the same time:

• WHY does Subway only give you two napkins when you order a sandwich? Everyone knows you'll need at least seven to keep the sweet onion sauce off your pants.
• gChat is definitely where it's at. I love chatting with all my friends at work.
• Now that Sanjacrappy is gone, the race for American Idol can officially begin. Last night's show was pretty good--but two quick thoughts. #1. I can't look at Melinda and not think that she looks like Dr. Bailey. #2. I really love the fundraising efforts of the "Idol Gives Back," but same things were clipped together over and over again. I finally sent Stephanie a text that said, "Too many montages of underprivileged people. I mean I have a heart; but I'm laying in bed eating Hot Tamales. Have I no sanctuary?" Four clips was plenty; but I did feel a little guilty fastforwarding through the fifth.
• Speaking of Hot Tamales, I'm officially hooked. Hot Tamales are the new Skittles.
• I don't even love hot dogs; but I've had three at Target in the last ten days.
• EVERY morning between 5:35 and 5:45, Little Gus-Gus starts jackhammering on the wall of my room. Literally, I don't know what he's doing (or why he has such routined schedule). He's between the wall either installing a monorail or making dry ice bombs I'm pretty sure. Either way, I do know, that every morning, between 5:35 and 5:45 I'm standing, drowsily whapping my tennis racket against the wall. He usually gets the point and simmers down. I'm depressed to say this is as close to courting as I may get.
• The weather has finally turned! Nothing makes me happier than driving with my windows open listening to music I love.
• Check out this really sweet Red Sox shirt I'm about to win on eBay:
• I started wearing maternity clothes. Well, I guess I didn't start per say because I already have been. I bought a really cute brown cotton skirt from the Gap outlet yesterday for a measly sum. Should I care that it's labeled "maternity"? I don't. I consider it a rather excellent way to conceal lovehandles. (**Note to friends: if I ever start to actually look like I'm wearing maternity clothes [whether I am or not] please inform me. Cheers.)
• I will eat anything in sight. Even if I'm not hungry.
• I work in a small office. Both employee-size and physical space. The fact that two of the workers (20 percent) of the team feel the need to shout into their phones (cell or landline) is ear-bleedingly annoying. Shouting does not ever make the reception better.
• Rosie is off the View. Sad! Not that I watch the View, but I like reading about the psuedo-drama she initiates and participates in.
• I still continue to read more about TV than I watch it.
• By now, you all know I'm a little obsessed with my Gucci fannypack. Last night, while flipping channels, Sex & the City was on, and no joke, Sarah Jessica Parker was wearing my Gucci fanny pack. I had no idea they were so fashionable! Or valuable!
• My sister Mallory's high school rugby team won state (in Oregon) and is going to Nationals. Whoop! Anyone want to take a quick trip to Milwaukee?
• I was watching America's Next Top Model last week and was kind of annoyed. I could have rocked that show!
• I hate Bratz dolls, wet sports bras, and the fact that I need to have my oil changed and keep getting to the mechanic right as they're closing.
• If I didn't send this to you already, this is a really interesting article written by Orson Scott Card about a Mormon running for the Presidency.
• BYU is done with their finals meaning my sister Kendall went home. I kind of wish (read: really) I was there, spending the summer, just dinking around with my family.
• My niece Adrie had surgery on her eye last week. I didn't know they made hospital gowns this small. It's so cute!!!
• I continue to be obsessively addicted to reading blogs. You people are all so talented! and I love reading your crap.
• My Grandma Williams has an iPod, exercises with it, and that cracks me up a little.

Thanks for allowing me to brain dump. Maybe now I can reorganize my thoughts and contribute something worthwhile to society.

I'm off to Subway to drip sauce all over my pants! Turkey Wednesday!

Movin' On Up

Well friends, I finally beat my mind last night. I’ve been dreading the ten mile run for several weeks now and could never psych myself up to do it. With race day looming in the less-than-three-week future, I figured it was time to get serious again.

I went, I ran, I went home. Nothing too fancy about that, right?

I ran 11:00 minute miles--super slow to actual runners, but a pretty good clip for me! And considering I ran ten of those in a row… That’s right folks, I spent 1:50 on the treadmill. That’s how I mentally-psych myself out of running; when I think about how long it is literally going to take me. Because 110 minutes is a reaaaaaaaaly long time. 6600 seconds. 23,100 steps. A long time. So long, in fact, a lot of things can happen:

*Watch the 2nd half of the Prestige on your personal DVD player which is beginning to be your most prized possession.
*Watch every preview on the Prestige DVD because you’ve still got 50 minutes and not much to do
*Run for a few minutes without headphones (during Neil Young’s Heart of Gold playing over the gym loudspeaker)
*With 48 minutes to go, take a 30 second pitstop to run and grab your iPod out of the locker room and make a quick pitstop (and touchup the Vaseline on high-risk chaff areas)
*Listen/Watch several podcasts on your iPod
*Start drinking from waterbottle #2
*Watch several movie trailers on your iPod
*20 minutes still left; start an episode of Friday Night Lights you’ve already seen; but hey! It’s something to do, something to watch.

5…4…3…2…1
STOP.

Hallelujah. 10 miles. Whoop!

Not too sweaty, not too chaffy, 3.1 more miles and I’dve had the half.

I ran 10 miles last night, what'd you do?

HP, HG, and PP

If you've spent any time on YouTube, you know there are people who put clip shows of just about EVERYTHING together.

This is perhaps the first truly clever one I've seen (besides the Jim/Dwight Brokeback Mountain trailer) and thought I'd pass it along.

I've been a little obsessed with Hermione for the last few books/movies now, so this is perfect!

Thanks to Carly for showing this to me--and this is for my sister Kendall if no one else!

Icing on the Cake

My crappiest day of the year topped itself off with a soaking wet sports bra at the gym. My water bottle spilled all over my gym bag but I was pissed and proud enough to wear it anyway.

It's been that kind. Can anyone beat that?

Hitchhiker's Guide

#1 - Don't ever pick up a hitchhiker.
#2 - Don't ever trust a person who would pick up a hitchhiker.

Apparently I had a death wish today.

I picked up a hitchhiker.

Before you judge me, I’ll plead my case. Yes, in hindsight it was still a stupid decision, but the circumstances weren’t what you’re thinking. I promise.

So my coworker Terri and I are leaving lunch and I’ve rolled to a stop sign. A woman is about to enter the crosswalk and trying to be a better Samaritan than I usually am, I slow down to let her pass instead of braking slightly and taking the right corner with a quick left-right-up-back scan for cops who have nothing better to do on a Thursday afternoon than pull me over for not braking completely for a stop sign. MISTAKE #1. (MISTAKE #1.1 – Run on sentence usage.)

I had my window unrolled because finally, after eleven straight days of rain, it’s sunny and relatively warm outside. MISTAKE #2.

Said woman, getting ready to cross the walk doesn’t actually begin crossing, but rather begins to speak with me.

HH: Hi. Are you from Utah or are you living here?
Me: [Pause] I'm living here.
HH: Oh. So you aren't driving West any time soon?
Me: Nope. Sorry.
HH: Do you have any friends going that way? I really need to get to the Midwest.
Me: Nope, I'm really sorry. (I'm not)
HH: Where are you going?
Me: Newton, back to work.
HH: Can you drive me to peaotngeaneaetinhe, I'm feeling dizzy.
Me: [Pause] Okay. Get in.

MISTAKE #3.

WHAT KIND OF IDIOT AM I? No, really. What kind. I guess in my momentary, gynormous-sized lapse of judgment I felt safe enough to give this stranger a ride to a place yet to be determined. Again, WHAT KIND OF IDIOT AM I?

To be honest, the drive wasn't that long, or that far, but I kept thinking of all these scenarios in my head of what could go terribly, terribly wrong. What if she refused to get out of my car? What if she wet the seat? What if she literally stabbed me in the back? I'm not ready to be critically wounded yet. Terri doesn't know my medication allergies. Freak.

The woman was surprisingly lucid and knew the turns to make to get wherever she needed to go. Strangely enough however, she had no idea which shady looking house we were going to. (We had to take the block three times.) I was about to regrow my spine and tell her we'd gone far enough, work was waiting, when she decided to get out on her own free will and volition. Thank goodness. I didn't want an episode on my hands.

What kind of moron picks up strange people and agrees to drive them places? I do. And apparently I can't be trusted to ____________.

Let Freedom Ring

Justice at last. Sanjacrappy has finally been ousted from American Idol. Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah! Maybe the remaining six will sing that in next week's Ford commercial. Now the sprint to the finish feels like the real deal.

Looks like I wasn't the only one who finally picked up the phone and secretly voted for my guilty-pleasure enjoyment Phil. Homeboy can sing!

I've been on the Jordin train since week #1. My bet is her in the final for sure. YouTube her "Broken Wing" performance from last night if you have any doubt.

And Martina McBride performed tonight. Sigh. I love love love me some MM. How gorgeous is her voice? There are very few women in the musical world who can hold a note like she can. (Besides Faith of course... which I'm proud to say I now have tickets to her and Tim's show!!! I'm giddy inside just thinking about it.)

Sorry for the Idol recap, I'm just so excited that justice has finally been served!

Return of the Blog

If you haven’t noticed, I haven’t blogged much in the last week. I’ve had plenty to blog about—the random occurrences and oddities of my life continue to abound; there’s never a break from being me. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve opened Blogger in the last three days with the intention to blog and closed the window as I realized I have nothing to say that I haven’t already said. (P.S. I can’t premeditate or recreate blog material; it quickly dissolves into utter crap.)

I finally put my finger on my lack of blogability. For those of you who don’t know, my bestie Krista was in town this last weekend. Everything of humor, snark, or situational commentary from the last five days has been said. And remembered. And giggled about again.

To be honest, I’m recuperating from K’s trip. I haven’t had someone to talk non-stop with since I moved Eastward ho. I’m out of practice! Seriously. We took limited photos and the ones we do have are utter crap. (That’s twice now I’ve used the phrase “utter crap” naturally. I never say that outloud, how strange it comes out now. But twice is maybe 1.5 times too many. It shan’t be used from hereforth.) Hence, I’ll post photos of yesteryear. Well, December 2006 at my Disco Skate Birthday Extravaganza and April 2005 for Joe’s Annual Birthday Song Singing.

For the record, Krista was miraculously in town on Joe's birthday so we got to perform the 5th Annual "He's Not Your Average Joe" Birthday Song. Every year has the same tune, same chorus, and same embarrass-yourself-at-all-costs type attitude. This year was the first time without an instrument. (We had to use a keyboard in the 2005 version, seen above, since Krista couldn't play the guitar due to a wrist broken by a fall from a razor scooter being pulled by Joe's car at 25 mph. Mind you, this is the year we graduated from college.) We resorted to banging on the washing machine, clapping, stomping, and shouting exclamations at the end of each line. I'm not quite sure how it translated on a voicemail, but I wish you could have seen the leg kicks and moves that accompanied said song. Every year it gets better (worse) and better (worse).

I feel sufficiently rested now. I'm back on board the blogging train and will start taking this job seriously again so you all can begin slacking from your jobs and reading at work. All aboard!!!

Web 2.0 Meets Election 2008

Thoughts or opinions on how successful this or other attempts to integrate the whole Web 2.0 process into campaigning will translate?

Rest Assured

Dear Family and Friends,

I am not dead.
I am not sick.
I have not been washed away by nor'easter wind, water, or floods.

I recognize I haven't blogged in five days and so you've become a little concerned. With good reason I suppose, I am kind of a slave to the blog.

I suffer from a case of food coma induced by Krista's visit from out of town. I can't remember anything we did besides eat in the last four days. I'll come out of this stupor very soon and get back to posting about the randomest of crap you've come to enjoy (tolerate).

Until then, consider sifting the archives for something you haven't read. This is my 299th blog; surely you haven't read all of them.

XOXO,
NatA!

The Day After

Are ya'll getting sick of America's Next Top Model blogs*? I'm sorry! This will be the last, I promise.

Want to read the media's official write-ups? You can read them here and here. I found them to informatively incorrect. A hoot nonetheless. See? There were girls who did take it seriously. I'm glad. I hope they got what they were looking for.

I'm not going to lie, I kind of miss practicing my "walk" down the giant hallway at work. The people a floor below us are probably happy as my heels are no longer stomping on their ceiling.

Did I tell you I put my blog address on my application? Here's hoping they never visit here. That would kill my chances for sure, right?

But to satisfy the people who think I attended this casting non in jest but in actual hopes of becoming America's Next Top Model, I offer this photo as consolation. Proof I was visibly shattered at not being chosen to interview.
But there's still hope for my written application, right?

*Thanks to all you readers for making yesterday my most read blog day ever. 348 page loads! 125 unique visitors! 75 returning visitors! This is proof that I should do stupid stuff more often. Stay tuned!

Sleep it Out

I don't know if I'm up early again this morning of if I just took the world's longest nap.

I marched myself straight to bed after work and am just waking up.

4:30 am and I'm watching American Idol. Jennifer Lopez is helping the contestants. ahhhh! I love J. Lo as a person, she's just so cute!

Okay, my Diet Coke is in the fridge ready for me to wake up and drink it in the morning. I'd have put it in the freezer but SOMEONE (cough:cough) taped the freezer shut because there are JUST too many frozen goods in there and the door wouldn't close and the frozen goods were starting to melt!

Argh, Ryan just announced Haley and Phil after the break and I actually thought, "oh great, the worthless middle portion." Haley is more responsible for that comment. Argh, what a MESS her song was! And can she PUH-LEEZE put some pants on?

OK, this could turn into an American Idol recap if I let it. I should focus on getting tired again. But again, how CUTE is J Lo? She totally gets into all the contestants.

Really fast, Phil is awesome tonight! I have to retract my earlier comment. BUT to all the AI singers--the genre is Latin music: there are more Latin singers than Gloria Estefan and Santana. Use them.

I'm tired. I guess I'll go to bed for the night. See ya'll in the morning!

STILL Not in the Running

Remember how I had my dreams crushed today?

These girls did too. LOOK at this line!

I guess I'll go back to my semi-adult, independent, educated accomplished-ish life. And be happy with it.

Wonder if these girls will do the same? Argh. This was at 11 AM, an hour after the call opened (and this doesn't include the 200 inside already). Maybe going at 5AM wasn't such a terrible plan.

All in the name of experience.

I'm glad experience is over now though; I'm going home to put on sloppy clothes, get into bed, and sleep. Any guesses on how late I'll make it tonight?

No Longer in the Running

I am not in the running to be America’s Next Top Model any longer. SHOCK, I know. But really, hide your outrage. What a funny, funny thing to do. Here’s how it went down.

After my last post (from here <----) I ran off to the bathroom. My hot chocolate from earlier had made its natural course and I was due. Of course my group was called while I was in the bathroom, so I had to be escorted to catch up.

Being number 16, I was in the first group of 50 to cram in front of the casting director heel to toe around the corners of the room. We were then commanded to look into the camera that panned the room and say our name, age, height, and weight. No more, no less.

Shock of all shocks, I was not chosen. I made my way down the stairs amidst the crying girls and asked the valet to get my car. No harm, no foul. But, let us remember the good times that were my America's Next Top Model adventure:

Being showered and blown dry at 3:30 in the morning. Did I mention I didn't sleep last night?

Every good model needs a killer hair-style. I'm trying to bring Granny back.

In all reality, I left my hair pinned like this until I was at the hotel and bored enough to take it out. About 6:15 am. ... I didn't last very long.

And then, the final end product. I cleaned up pretty nicely--just not America's version of nicely. Oh well, no harm, no foul. I got exactly what I wanted -- a good story. I'm only sorry it's not very funny. I'm tired.

BEing a washed-up model is hard work.

Still in the Running - Part III

I finally, finally made it inside. Words cannot
tell you how miserable it was outside. 28 degrees and this crazy nasty wind tunnel. I'm wearing shorts, a cotton blazer and fish nets! I wanted to die. No way in heck I was blogging.

I am the 16th girl in the casting. Let's hope it's lucky, seeing as I waited until I was 16 to date. My paperwork is filled out and turned in. No idea what comes next--maybe a one on one interview, maybe a 50 girl line up. No idea. But someone's dreams are about to come true!!!

I've heard some hilarious quotes in the last 5 hours. Will wait til I have a full keyboard because this blogging by bberry is drivin me nuts!

The time is drawing close when I'll either still be in the running to becoming America's Next Top Model or have to go back to my smart, mature life.

Still in the Running - Part II

I found a bathroom, used it, and then we got kicked outside. It's FREEZING!

I made friends in line though. This is Shamille's third time auditioning. If it's not this time then God has another plan for her. Short black hair with pink streaks, a puffy camo jacket and orange earrings. Attending school for fashion and modeling on the side(!?) she is the voice of experience.

Shayna is a freshman at BC with beautiful skin. She's from Rhode Island, barely 5'7" (the minimum height requirement) and a chatter box. She used to do pageants. Her mom adopted 5 kids. She took her winter costs home last weekend. She has 3 tattoos and can't live in the dorms another year. She used to work at an ice cream store. She's wearing flip flops and her toes are freezing. She had to buy new jeans because she ripped all her others. And on and on and on.

The girl behind them drove up from New Jersey. Don't know her name. Will if she gets famous. She didn't have photos in a bathing suit so she took hers at the beach in Atlantic City yesterday in 40 weather. They're not very good she says. Her dad is with her. She unknown on both. Oh wait, I guess he might could be the boyfriend.

I'm about 20th back in line. Please bless I get in soon. My hands are ice blocks.

Oh these girls can chatter. Must put my hands away. More to come...

You Are Still in the Running

I'm up early this morning. Such is the life of a would-be hopeful. I'm talking about America's Next Top Model and the open casting being held downtown. Some of you know I auditioned for Jeopardy last year; this is the opposite book end for my reality TV auditioning experience. Like Jeopardy, do I think I'll make the cut? Absolutley not, but I like a good story.

So here I sit; 5:35 am in the lounge of the Millenium Hotel in downtown Boston. I can't tell how many others are here as the bevy of beauties are sprawled on couches sleeping with blankets, mouths gaping, some snoring. If only Tyra could see them now. When I called the hotel at 2:50am, they were here. They are the stalwarts who wish to guarantee themselves an audience with the casting director. I just realized I'm probably the only one here not taking this 1000 percent serious.

I just futiley tried to find a bathroom. I'm hopped up on Diet Coke and need one in the worst way. I'll have to politely ask a hotel worker and hope for the best.

I'm only going to say this once, I promise. It's your duty to remember this systement: I'm not here because I think i'm hot and I should be a model. I'm here to give you something to read on this ordinary, ordinary Tuesday. I'll be blogging commentary throughout the morning. So buckle up; it's about to get fierce!

Day of East

"I read both Kendall and Mallory's Easter blogs. Where is yours?," my mother so sweetly asked on the phone this afternoon.

This is why consistent bloggers finally throw in the towel.

The pressure to perform! Egads.

So without further adieu... my Easter weekend in photos.

The Easter Eve party--So I Married an Axe Murderer, plentiful goodies, and me dressing like a boy:

The Easter Eggs hidden so well that there are still four missing in the living areas of our house. Prizes for whoever can find them--because we sure as heck cannot.

A traditional ham and potatoes Easter dinner with these lovely ladies. You can't imagine the conversation at the post-dinner table. The one boy in attendance couldn't either. HiLARious is all I can say.

Are you disapointed? Maybe in this blog, maybe in my tardiness, but do not be dissapointed in my day. It was a fantastic Easter--it's nice to have friends who act as family when we're away from our own. On to the next holiday.... FLAG DAY!

Nothing Witty to Say

Nine, nine, nine... is tiring.

I survived the 100 minutes on the treadmill by watching Blood Diamond--which is quite perhaps the most graphic, bloodiest movie I've ever seen. It definitely raises awareness of the plight of so many African nations in civil war. It also convinces me that Krista and Nici should not be spending four months over there this summer. Yikes.

I don't need much reason to eat at Not Your Average Joe's, but I had a good one tonight as Julie, Marie, Kylee and I had one last girls' dinner before Marie up and gets married. Here's one of us (thanks to Ky for taking the photos!):

Oh yeah. I cut my hair last week. The jury's still out.

Pop, Pop, Pop Music

I bet you wish you were attending this concert.

Dashboard Confessional, Daughtry, Fergie, Rihanna, Hil Duff, Katherine McPhee, Omarion, JoJo, Red Jumpsuit Apparatus, Gym Class Heroes, Robin Thicke, and Lily Allen.

Top-40's plethora o' fun. All for a one stop shop price. Jamar and I may be the oldest people in attendance, but you'd better believe we'll be having a majority 'o pre-teen fun.

If you're in the area, or interested in some fun in an open air, open lawn-sitting venue, come join us May 19th.

If you're going to sassily comment on your disdain for pop, R&B, or Top-40's music, please consider attending the Soul2Soul II, Tim McGraw & Faith Hill concert with me in July. IF you're going to sassily comment on that, love me for no other reason than the fact I make an amazing cheeseball.

Gender Roles

Great quote I found. Can you guess the author? (answer in the comments section)

"The most important job for a man is to find the right woman. It's the best we can do. I thank my father for choosing my mother. She's wonderful in so many ways. And she chose well, too. I've noticed in life that the mother, first, has a primary job -- and as a father, your job is to pick a caring, smart, mindful woman."

a) Gordon B. Hinckley
b) John F. Kennedy
c) Jake Gyllenhaal

Another Celebrity Split

Once upon a time I was a real writer. This is hands-down my favorite piece. Slightly outdated, but still my fave.

Plastic couple endures breakup
By Natalie Williams NewsNet Staff Writer
20 Feb 2004

Nearly a week has passed since the breakup.

Is he still sitting at home bemoaning the loss of his girlfriend of 43 years? Is she drowning her post-breakup sorrows in a carton of Ben & Jerry's ice cream?

No one really knows -- because this couple is made of plastic.

Barbie and Ken, like so many other celebrity couples, have called it quits. And, like so many other celebrity splits, the breakup was very public and, from outward appearances, not very painful.

But then again, it's hard to grimace when your face is molded into a perpetually wide, toothy smile.

A Feb. 12 Mattel press release marked the end of Barbie and Ken's 43-year courtship. The couple's "business manager," Russell Arons, vice president of marketing at Mattel, said Barbie and Ken "feel it's time to spend some quality time -- apart."

"Like other celebrity couples, their Hollywood romance has come to an end," Arons said.

Barbie, a household staple since 1959, met Ken on the set of a TV commercial in 1961, and the rest is history.

Neither Barbie nor Ken nor their "business manager" have given clear-cut reasons for the breakup. Was it Ken's reluctance to get married? Perhaps Ken felt threatened by Barbie's extensive career goals (she did have over 90). Maybe Barbie was tired of toting Ken around like another one of her many accessories.

Whatever the reason may be, America's prettiest pair have gone their separate ways.

Barbie, the most popular fashion doll in the world, will celebrate her new single status with a makeover.

As early as spring, Barbie will boast her more carefree and independent look with board shorts, a bikini top, hoop earrings and an even deeper tan. Barbie is going back to her California roots -- she'll be marketed as "Cali Barbie."

Ken may have been her first true love, but will Barbie rebound?

Her new style has already caught the attention of Blaine, the Australian boogie boarder. Rumor has it sparks will begin to fly between the pair this fall.

How will Ken cope with the breakup?

He has a number of Barbie's friends to choose from: Theresa, DeeDee or even Barbie's kid-sister Skipper.

"I think Ken will get with Skipper to get back at Barbie," said Alicia Sleight, 21, from Richland, Wash. "Or her mom, in true soap opera style."

Whatever happens between the two, 12-inch plastic dolls around the world hope the newly split couple won't have any awkward run-in moments former couples typically have. Ken, single and alone, won't have to see Barbie and her new beau at the Sweet Sound Pet Shop, and Barbie won't be mortified if she sees Ken cruising around in her best friend Theresa's VW Beetle Convertible.

Only time will tell how the awkward situation will pan out.

For now, however, the duo will remain "the best of friends," Arons said.

What happens to the Dream House, the red convertible Porsche, the Palomino horse and the Fabulous Fountain pool?

Barbie and Ken were unavailable for comments.

The Commodities Broker

I’m one of those people who very strange, one-of-a-type-kinds-of-things happen to quite frequently. I don’t know what it is about the way I conduct my life; but I’m a magnet for the scratch-your-head oddities in life. Where I am, strange things follow. I tribute most of this to luck, a little bit to actively seeking it out, and a smidgey portion to the cosmos aligning to give me the material to tell or write good stories. The story that follows is a perfect example of “She-Who-Must-Be-Lucky.”

A few years ago, I randomly stopped into the Old Navy on University Parkway in Orem, UT. I don’t frequent Old Navy regularly, in fact I’d consider myself a rather infrequent user. However it worked out, I ended up at Old Navy on a Tuesday night. I skimmed the current lines of Old Navy classics as I sunk deeper and further into the cavernous warehouse in search of the clearance racks. For those who don’t know me well (or at all), this is where the majority of my purchases originate (not at Old Navy as stated earlier, but from sale and clearance racks.)

I found the racks. And racks. And racks.

Without a doubt, I knew I’d be leaving with some cute things.

My eyes were drawn to the signs wedged between the racks and rows.

“Surely this must be a joke,” I thought in my head. (Because I always think in full, complete, punctuated sentences.)

The signs strategically placed between the jean skirts, shirts, and sundresses read $0.07. Wouldn’t you disbelieve it too?

Holy Old Navy Clearancpalooza.

The articles of clothing were, quite literally 7 cents. Seven. Se7en. 7 pennies. SEVEN. Not even enough to be taxed by the State of Utah.

The wheels in my head didn’t begin just turning, they came off their rocker completely. You can’t buy anything for 7 cents. Nothing! (Or am I wrong? Have you bought something useful for 7 cents or less?)

Some of the clothing articles were wearable; but for the most part they were XXL or XXXL (as they usually are on the ON clearance racks) sizes. Never the one to pass up a steal of a deal, I decided to become a commodities broker. A clothing commodities broker.

Across the street from the Old Navy is a consignment store that buys new or gently used name-brand clothing with cash money. There, standing in a “we’re practically giving it away” graveyard of last season’s rejects, I hatched a plot. I would purchase the Old Navy clothing at 7 cents a piece and resell it across the street.

And that’s what I did. From the gut of the Old Navy clearance graveyard I extracted eight huge bags of clothing—shirts, dresses, skirts, tank tops, shoes, accessories for a grand total of $32. I took it home, sorted it, removed tags, and prepared to resell. Here I am with a portion of the booty:

Long story short: they bought 95% of the stuff I gave them (including duplicates) for $1.75-3.25 a piece… the rest I gave to DI. I came out about $100 richer. A win-win-win scenario. I won money, Old Navy rid themselves of merchandise, and the consignment store increased its inventory. Would that all shopping experiences could prove as fruitful, right?

In the case of “She-Who-Must-Be-Lucky,” I am truly, undoubtedly, unequivocally, guilty as charged.

Fashionista

Remember my Gucci fannypack?

I'm still trying to find the perfect outfit to bring it back.

An Officer & A Gentleman

I'll confess. I watched the season premiere of The Bachelor: An Officer and a Gentleman last night.

It. Was. Hilarious.

I was a pretty devoted watcher the first few seasons but my viewership tapered off with the tsunami of coverage following Trista and Ryan; the world's worst couple's wedding to air on broadcast television.

Back to the Officer and Gentleman (hard to forget actually since ABC kept shoving the O&G tagline down our throats). According to his ABC profile, bachelor Andy Baldwin is the world's most accomplished man. A doctor in uniform. An ironman. A philanthropist. And the girls trying to win his heart were a cornucopia of crazy.

Andy is an attractive man, but he's kind of a doof. Did any one who watched disagree with me? He's just a little socially awkward. Maybe it stems from the fact that he looks like 80's country legend Randy Travis:

Hot huh? The resemblances are uncanny in action shots. I'll admit, Andy photos well; but there's something about him that's just a little off.

But should the Bachelor not work out for him; you know, him not finding the love of his life amongst a bevy of beauties, he could always start touring the county fairs.

(If you're at all bored, please go to the Bachelor site and watch the trailer video. It's worth a look-see and a giggle.)

How We Roll

A brief snippet of the Williams clan gathered for General Conference Saturday night.

QUIZ*: (you can choose which question you'd like to answer)

a. How many people are viewable in this clip?

b. Names of family members (including animals) seen in this clip.

c. Quiz question I missed in reference to above clip.

*Individuals in clip are not eligible to take video quiz. If you can't fight the urge to respond because this is a pop-quiz you can undoubtedly pass with flying colors, call me and I'll tell you how smart you really are.