28 February 2010

3 february: a revue

"say a prayer for my bottom today. this is the first time i've worn a thong in 10 months."

"this is SO your rory moment!"

"remember when bread caused cancer?"

"i have had hair, and there is nothing to it."

"can't you just hear the mary tyler moore theme song in the background of my life?"

"he was wearing the 'i'm about to get an std tonight!' grin."

"what kind of underwear would one have to be wearing to have a wedgie that bad?"

"i don't think pastors are supposed to talk from the pulpit about the vaginas of women who are not their wives."

"you always look so pulled together."
"gosh, that's sweet of you to say because the dominant theme of my life is falling apart."

"it is safe to say he is the greatest skater ever to wear a mullet."

"bebe is for women who have sex tapes."

"even the guy in the awesomely fitting gym pants talking on his iPhone and marking things off the list he had carried in on a notepad looked happy and ready to go home and cook his whomever dinner and selflessly give up the night to olympic figure skating routines."

"that was back when AOL was still mailing the internet to your house on CD."

"wow. weather.com rolls like that?"

"yeah, i didn't really realize how short my skirt was that night."
"i realized it. and then later, after all those beers, i realized again."

"then i discovered it was sponsored by the revolution communist party and that's when i walked away."

"that is what i am counting as our valentine's day celebrations. kung pao chicken and the hangover."

"outside of the euphoria of films and concerts and the unusually giddy excitement i have about amazon.com sales, i don't think i remember what happiness actually is."

"my child must seem like a ginormous monster beast to newborns."

"meanwhile, skiing remains a major concern."

25 February 2010

5 "girl, you a tall drink of water."

that is how thursday began. which is funny because i always thought this was an expression exclusive to tall, well-built, WASPy man-types. but, no. apparently it applicable to average height, exhausted, short-skirted lasses as well.

23 February 2010

6 last one.

i swear. we're almost done with the Oline On Ice portion of our programming. but first, it seemed very terribly important to establish that there is nothing at the olympics- quite possibly in the world- scarier than this:

22 February 2010

6 chicagoversarie!

i moved to chicago four years ago yesterday. because i needed to get away and this was the only place to go.

it was a decision that inconvenienced everyone i knew. and one i have never once regretted. because i have always known this is where i'm supposed to be.

and last night, sitting at a corner table in istria, the trains roaring overhead every 24 minutes, i was reminded of why i'm here. because there is no place better, no place lovelier, no place more full of possibility than this.

21 February 2010

2 2 a.m.

ted mosby (arhitect)'s mother always said "nothing good ever happens after 2 a.m." i do not know that this is true. but i realized yesterday- when i looked up in the middle of E's kitchen, saw the clock reading 1:44, promptly hugged everyone in the room, hightailed it to the cab stand, egged the cabbie to push speeds that ultimately led to the death of princess diana, only to race up the stairs to my apartment and exhale a ginormous sigh of relief, as though i had just barely skirted some unnameable disaster by shutting my door at 2:02- that my cardinal rule of city living derives from the advice of a fictional character's mom.

19 February 2010

0 ice ice baby

confession: i'm a little in love with stephane lambiel.

not in a serious way, like with james franco. more in that There Is Nothing Better In the World Than Men In Fruity Costumes Skating On Ice way that always sets in during winter olympic mania. (and yes, evan lysacek, you were a close second. if it's any consolation, in the future, whenever i see trent reznor i will remember you kneeling on that sheet of ice bawling your eyes out into your feathered wristlets.)

i am kind of in love with stephane lambiel because:

a) um... the cuteness.

b) his footwork makes scott hamilton gasp.

c) his costumes betray a fervent desire to join the musketeers.

i applaud all of these things.

and yet, there is something about stephane lambiel that is unsettling. something that is not quite right. after devoting a considerable portion of last night and, then again, this morning to reflecting upon the unique beauty of stephane lambiel, i have finally pinpointed his one flaw.

stephane lambiel is audrey tatou as a man. and that is probably a dealbreaker.

18 February 2010

2 oh, jack kennedy, you cad you

so let's talk about "lot #1174: 'Love, Jack' - Senator John F. Kennedy's Complete Correspondence with his Swedish Lover, Gunilla von Post."

(no, i did not make that up. despite my history of coining catchy names like "robbie wolders, lover to the stars," i can claim no credit here. i can only assume our dear friend c. david heymann has been freelancing.

and to quickly answer some FAQs: yes, that is the actual entire subtitle. and yes, the words "swedish lover" were used. can't you practically hear the little old ladies who lunch tittering in the back row?)

so... "lot #1174: 'Love, Jack' - Senator John F. Kennedy's Complete Correspondence with his Swedish Lover, Gunilla von Post." several things.

firstly, i should mention the auctioning of "Senator John F. Kennedy's Complete Correspondence with his Swedish Lover" is being conducted by LEGENDARY AUCTIONS. so in case there was any doubt re: the historical significance here, people, beware, wait for it- it is LEGENDARY.

nextly, the copywriters for the aforementioned LEGENDARY AUCTIONS? freaking genius. seriously. amazing. for reals.

oh, but where to begin?

if you were beginning at the beginning, you would begin HERE. but don't. you have me. i will spare you that.

so imagine, if you will, that we have somehow wandered into the highly specific realm of the LEGENDARY AUCTIONS auctions/history/presidential autographs/catalog/lot detail/lot #1174:" 'Love, Jack' - Senator John F. Kennedy's Complete Correspondence with his Swedish Lover, Gunilla von Post" webpage with no prior knowledge of our 35th president. fear not! LEGENDARY AUCTIONS is there to inform us that our 35th president was beloved for his "sparkle of hope," "not-so-rosy marriage," and "'ask not' imperative."

but this is irrelevant, because we already know all of this. according to LEGENDARY AUCTIONS, we already know everything there is to know about jfk. according to LEGENDARY AUCTIONS, "there is one stone left unturned."

yep. you guessed it. ohmygod, letters to his swedish lover! (nevermind that this stone was, in fact, turned over repeatedly way back in 1997.) letters that allegedly reveal a whole new side of jfk, "a tender side, heartfelt and sincere, hopelessly romantic, naïve even, while his bright star was still on the rise and before universal fame came to dim and pollute, turning him callous and insatiable in his lust for conquests."

i'm going to pause briefly here and let you digest. because that was some pretty rich stuff and i'm assuming everyone could use a moment to reflect on the beautiful bob ross-style word picture our friends at LEGENDARY AUCTIONS have just painted. dim, polluted, callous, lustful jfk. as conquistador. i imagine he is wearing boots. and tassels.

there is much much more- including transcripts of the letters themselves and an interactive timeline- but it all pales in comparison to the glutinous description of jfk and his swedish lover's "one-week 'brief, shining moment' of smitten bliss." i give you this cliché clusterfuck, which can only be quoted in full:
It all started in August 1953, just weeks before the 35-year-old Senator Kennedy’s wedding to Jacqueline Lee Bouvier. Vacationing on the French Riviera, he made the acquaintance of Gunilla von Post, a 21-year-old blonde siren with aristocratic roots, and he fell in love with her. They had eyes only for each other as they dined, danced and later kissed—fairy-tale-style—with the stars shimmering on the Mediterranean Sea. As far as von Post knew, she’d enjoyed a magical evening with a fun-loving American prince and would never see his tousled hair and jaunty smile again. But this Jack came calling … and writing. He pursued her despite the daily demands of public service and newlywed nesting, and even despite a near-death experience on the operating table. No obstacle was too great to bar the soon-to-be King Arthur from courting his beguiling Lady of the Lake.

and i leave you with one question:

who the heck wrote this?

(a) an old, old man.
(b) an old, old woman.
(c) a high schooler with a tenuous grasp of arthurian legend.

17 February 2010

5 thin wednesday


oh yes, it's that time of year again. when your dear oline gives up what she most loves in the world for the love of God. (and there is a whole mess of bastardized theology in that sentence so do not take me at my words.) and so, dear God, because caffeine is not an option, i give you shopping. as in everything but groceries and cupcakes. because while a girl can live without clothes... hell, she could probably live without groceries... surely the Lord God above knows the cupcakes, they cannot be denied.

14 February 2010

6 la vieveversarie!

(and i swear we are infinitely more excited about our life together
than we appear to be here.)

11 February 2010

0 da blizz

let the record show, i braved it in tights and a skirt.
foolhardy? yes.
caroline popsicle? totally.
but freezing for fashion? oh so chic.

10 February 2010

6 dead woman walking

my mum loves a good health scare. so you can imagine her excitement when a recent (highly flawed) medical study boldly announced that as few as TWO sodas per WEEK could nearly double one's risk of pancreatic cancer.

omg! panic!

mind you, this was conducted in singapore. only 140 people out of 60,000 were affected. and the study refers to sweetened sodas only.

however, though we do not live in singapore and though i haven't drunk anything but diet drinks for years so it's more likely that one fine day i'll just implode from aspartame accumulation, still my mum had to call and regale me with the particulars of this recent (highly flawed) medical study. never mind that according to this recent (highly flawed) medical study we are all pretty much already good as dead.

09 February 2010

0 bringing sexy back

one of the more unfortunate things to come out of omaha is that i heard entirely more than anyone should ever have to hear about daniel's tapeworm. this, in turn, led into a discussion of exotic diseases which, inevitably, led to a prolonged analysis of the myriad attractions of tuberculosis.

because, let's face it, tuberculosis is damn sexy.

it involves handkerchiefs and blushes and fanning about languorously and taking to one's bed in a ruffled peignoir to delicately cough and endure a long, relentless wasting. it is the disease of keats and droves of french courtesans, not to mention johnny cash's character on dr. quinn.

i ask you, is there anything more romantic?

i asked this of OK the other day as i was pontificating on the time-honored attractions of consumption and her response was instantaneous. without a pause, in the sort of dulcet tone one might use when pronouncing aloud for the first time the name of one's newborn daughter, she said, "cholera!"

so thank you, edward norton. thank you for using your star-turn in the painted veil to lend the romance of TB to a disease defined by complete loss of bowel control.

06 February 2010

6 dear jordan catalano

what is happening here?

i have two theories...

1. this is some sort of My Boyfriend James Franco-style
life performance geared towards convincing us all you
deserve a role in that upcoming cinematic masterpiece,
breaking dawn.

2. you are writing, producing, directing and starring in
everybody loves jess: the milo ventimiglia story.

which is it, pray tell?

04 February 2010

5 faith in the city

timing is everything.

e said this on a lazy saturday afternoon after up in the air, as she leaned over a glass of malbec and told me something for which i had prayed for forevers was suddenly possible, now that i no longer needed it to come true.

timing is everything.

an obvious truth that bears repeating.

it's been a strange little while around here. both precious and plum awful. a time i am ready to be beyond and yet cannot help but hold on to, because God only knows what happens next.

but then, that would be the key now, wouldn't it?

as father clark drove me to the airport, both of us in dire need of coffee, we had few words. until looking into the kentucky fog, i said, "life is rough, but God is good."

"all the time..." he said, with the first half-smile of the morning.

and as i had done every sunday in the southern baptist church of my childhood, i responded without thinking, "all the time..."

and he said, "God is good."

02 February 2010

10 moo

i think it's a pretty well-established fact that i am fueled by calcium and caffeine.

the other day, when KBG asked how much milk i drink and i responded 5 gallons in 2 weeks, she gasped, stunned. her surprise surprised me. because this tally didn't even include the 2 gallons every week for work. which brings my household to a grand total of 9 gallons of milk per fortnight. which still didn't seem so shocking to me until i began to ponder.

9 gallons per two weeks. that's 34 liters. 1,152 fluid ounces. approximately 72 pounds give or take. a number that still doesn't really hit home, doesn't quite seem real. like those bloated death tolls. like gettysburg. just as there is simply no way to wrap one's mind around the fact that 51,000 men could die in 3 days, it is equally impossible to imagine that my bi-weekly milk consumption equates to 9 newborns of an average birth-weight. but i will admit that is shocking.