...It's one thing that I can't catch myself from falling on the ice (and ripping out the knee of a brand spankin' new pair of jeans in the process. Grrrr.). It's entirely another when a robot can.

That there is a 21st Century pack mule.

Thank God, we still need humans around to tell the robots what to do, otherwise, I can't see that there'd be much of a need for us to be here.

You can find more about Big Dog here.

Posted by: Kathy at 10:21 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 85 words, total size 1 kb.

Apparently, St. Patrick's Day is the day for making debuts.

Only this time, my niece, Maggie, is making her Omaha World Herald Debut. Really, go and clicky on the link. She's well worth it.

According to her mother, the Cake Eater sister Christi, she really had a great time hamming it up at the photo shoot. That photo is quite representative of her personality.

I wonder, however, if I shouldn't bust them for a wee bit of dishonesty, though. The red hair does NOT come from the Irish side of their family; it comes from OUR side, the half Polish, half German side.

I do have one question, though. Do Leprechauns have pointy ears?

Posted by: Kathy at 08:35 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 132 words, total size 1 kb.

Making his internet debut this fine St. Patrick's Day, we have young Moses Glenn from Winterset. He's the product of regular commenters Russ from Winterset, and The Lovely Janis.

Ain't he a cutie?

Here's Moses and his Dad

And here we have Moses with his mom, who's been through rather a lot over the past week and, she tells me, has gained an appreciation for the wonder drug that is percocet.

Moses, fully realizing his internet debut is an auspicious occasion, forwarded this short note along with the pictures.

Welcome to the world Moses Glenn. I was born March 11th - 6 weeks early - because Mommy's pre-eclampsia had gotten worse and she was only going to get better if I came into the world. I weighed 3 pounds and 5 ounces and 16 1/2 inches long.

Mommy is doing much better. She got really sick and the doctors and nurses are taking really good care of her and keep telling her that it just takes time to get better. Once her blood pressure gets better she will be released from the hospital.

I am in the NICU (Neonatal- Intensive Care Unit) and I am lucky that my lungs are well developed and have not had to have helped to breathe. The doctor says I am small for my age and need to gain weight!!! I am eating through a tube right now and learning how to nurse from Mommy too. I am gaining slowly.

I am told I am feisty despite my small stature -- I like to fling my arms and legs around and actually scoot around my incubator.

I will have to gain weight, eat regularly and get control of my body temperature by myself before I can go home. My doctor says I am doing very well. Mommy and Daddy are really proud of my progress.

Thank you Kathy for posting this for us. Enjoy the pics!!!

Love --

Moses and Mommy & Daddy too!!!

Say it with me: "Awwwwwww."

Posted by: Kathy at 08:24 AM | Comments (13) | Add Comment
Post contains 336 words, total size 3 kb.

The husband forwarded this along to me today. For Russ from Winterset, of course.

Posted by: Kathy at 11:54 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 22 words, total size 1 kb.

So, the little troll won Project Runway.

Sigh.

The master of the super fantastic, The Manolo, has the wrap-up that you should go read.

Honestly, I was surprised when he won. I thought Christian had shot himself in the foot when I saw his line. Just about everything was black, and was entirely derivative of other projects he'd done throughout the season---particularly the last challenge. If this had been a different season of Project Runway, and if Christian hadn't been so impressive throughout, he would have been reamed by La Nina and the Kors, from here to Poughkeepsie and back again, for not showing them anything new. I'm not denying that the troll has talent; its overflowing from five gallon buckets that he, undoubtedly, could not pick up and carry to save his life---but undoubtedly $100,000 will pay for a sherpa to do so. I simply think that, when it comes right down to it, the competition was his to lose, and the judges obviously didn't want him to lose. His talent is exceptional. Yes, it's very obvious that he's worked for Alexander McQueen and Vivienne Westwood. Yes, the clothes were exceptional. But were they wearable? No. In fact, I'm having a hard time seeing how they could be watered down into Ready to Wear at all, which is the only reason Couture still exists in any sense whatsoever. It's like the judges couldn't get over how fantastic it was to discover a Picasso, never to realize that most people would never hang his work on their wall in the first place. It would have been obvious to a blind man on a galloping horse that Rami and Jillian had to step up, and do so in a miraculous way. In a sense they were destined to lose, which is a shame, because after all of Kors' and La Nina's bleating about making clothes that keeps in mind the shape of a woman's body, they completely chose to ignore the lines that did just that.

Posted by: Kathy at 01:24 PM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
Post contains 345 words, total size 2 kb.

There's this elderly gentleman who works the same volunteer shift at the hospital that I do. He's a nice enough guy, probably in his early-eighties, is a WWII vet, and is a retired mortician. He loves being assigned to work with teenagers, because they invariably ask him questions about what happens to the bodies of the dearly departed, and he has a good time scaring the hell out of them when he answers them, because he's got some good stories to share. I've got nothing against the guy. He works at the hospital three days a week, to keep himself active, and has been volunteering there for years. Everyone loves him, and more importantly, knows him. Most of the hospital staff like all of us volunteers enough, because we save them a lot of time and hassle, but they take their time warming up, because they just assume you'll be gone soon enough, so why bother? But the staff all love this guy, and go out of their way to help him achieve his tasks. It takes me a half-hour to flag someone down when I need them. But him? Five seconds flat. So, we've established that he's a good guy, with good intentions at heart. But there is one thing he does that drives me nuts: he steals cookies from the hospital's oncology clinic.

The clinic is in another building (the same one Dr. Academic's office is in) and we gophers have to run over there a couple of times a day to pick up specimens for delivery to the lab. I feel sorry for those patients, because they have to wait for us to come over, pick up the samples from two different offices, and schlep them back to the hospital's lab---which takes about fifteen minutes to a half-hour, all told, and that's before the lab does its deal. At Dr. Academic's office, the lab was in the office, so you didn't have to wait, but because the hospital has a perfectly good lab in the hospital, the samples have to be schlepped over and these people do have to wait. These runs always have priority over others, but no one understood why until I told them that the patients had to wait for those results to see if they were going to have chemo or not that day. Now everyone puts on winged shoes for these runs. All except for this one gentleman: he's in a hurry all right, but he's in one because he raids the cookie tray they keep in the lobby. Now, to be fair, he never snakes the cookies to eat himself: he takes them and offers them to everyone else, as a treat. He can't eat them because he's a diabetic. He offered me one, one day, and I refused. Now he thinks I'm kind of snotty.

Undoubtedly you're thinking I should just take the cookie, right? That the kind thing to do would be to accept this man's hospitality. The thing is, they have those cookies there for a reason. People go through icky treatments, which a goodly part of the time causes stomach upset, and perhaps, a cookie would help settle their tummies. Also, people on chemo need to snack, because that's the easiest way to eat when you're on these treatments. Anything that can boost the calorie count of a person who's going through a treatment that makes them lose weight is a good thing. There's always a full complement of snacks available in the waiting room at Dr. Academic's office, and people do take advantage of it (and I was one of them. For some strange reason, those Keebler fudge cookies taste good after enduring a carboplatin drip.), but they never take advantage, and always leave something for someone else in case they need it. Despite the number of elderly people at Dr. Academic's clinic, and knowing the propensity of some of their number (Ahem. I think we're all familiar with the ways of some of the "Geritol Express.") to fill up their handbags at all-you-can-eat buffets, I've never seen anyone take more than one cookie or a piece of candy. They, too, know that the food is there for a reason. But this guy, God bless him, doesn't get it. The people at the oncology clinic know full well what he's up to when he raids the tray, but because he's older, they don't say anything. I tried to explain to him, very kindly and very patiently, that the cookies were meant for the chemo patients, to get them to eat, but he just shrugged it off, saying there was plenty to go around, because the tray was always full.

Sigh.

What would you do if you were me? Would you lighten up, and just take the cookie, to smooth things over with someone as universally loved as this gentleman appears to be? Or would you again try to get him to understand that he shouldn't be taking them in the first place? Or would you just leave it be?

Posted by: Kathy at 11:41 AM | Comments (4) | Add Comment
Post contains 857 words, total size 5 kb.

I told you I didn't think all that bacon was a good idea.

Seriously, though. Prayers and happy thoughts to Russ and Janis---as they're going to be making more life adjustments than just the one they were counting on.

I can only imagine how badly it's going to suck for Russ to have to be careful about his diet. Sigh. He's an Iowa boy. Iowa boys don't like being told what to eat. Let me tell you. I'm married to one and I had to wage a seven year battle just to get him to eat something as measly as a salad. Janis, my dear, my prayers are with you.

Yet, in good news, that means more venison for us! {insert evil chuckle here}

Posted by: Kathy at 10:34 PM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
Post contains 126 words, total size 1 kb.

So, the thing I hear a lot from my sister and other parents I know is how picky their kids are when it comes to food. Sometimes, even, their eyes become all misty and they wish aloud for a kid who would eat what's put in front of them, let alone for one who's adventurous in the food department, and doesn't solely rely upon nourishment gained from mac and cheese and hot dogs.

This is that kid. Can you imagine how green this kid's grass is to other parents?

On a visit to Boston last summer, just before our sonÂ’s birthday, my wife and I gave him the gift he most desired: we allowed James to eat his first raw clam, thus ending three years of simmering frustration for him.

True, he was only turning six, but that meant he had spent half his life pining for a taste of uncooked bivalves. His reaction, when the moment finally arrived, was unsurprising: he loved the clam, so much so that he proceeded to help himself to the five others on my plate and declared that henceforth I would need to order double the number so that he and I could each get our fair share. Between slurps, he reiterated his determination to eat that other long-forbidden fruit of the sea, raw oysters.

We had held him off raw shellfish out of health concerns, which in retrospect was probably silly. We were certainly guilty of inconsistency. When James was three, we let him try sushi, and ever since he has been ordering his own sashimi (early on, he decided he had no use for the rice and wanted the fish straight up) whenever we went out for Japanese. Were raw clams and oysters really any riskier than raw tuna? We had also given in to his pleadings and allowed him to eat unpasteurised cheese, and it was not as if raw-milk Camembert – his favourite, although he is also fond of Époisses, Comté, and Langres – was without potential hazards. And if we were worried about polluting his young body, we certainly would not have permitted James to get in the habit of taking a sip from my wine glass every night.

On the other hand, all that sniffing and swilling has served him rather well. He has become a very able blind taster, with a particular knack for identifying Burgundies and Beaujolais. He has a good nose for herbs and spices, too, and can often pinpoint specific seasonings in dishes. It probably helps that he now keeps his own herb garden during the summer, which he very much enjoys. He would doubtless be even happier if we bought him a lobster trap, built a pond and stocked it with sturgeon, and filled the yard with ducks and geese; James has a prodigious appetite for lobster, caviar, and foie gras.

{...}there were indications that he was to the table born. At 10 months old, he sat through a long lunch at a three-star restaurant in Paris without so much as a moment’s fuss, astonishing us and the wary waiters, too. Barely out of the womb, Tiger Woods was mimicking his father’s golf swing; James was jealously eyeing my mille-feuille. The greatest athletes come by their talent naturally, and it seems reasonable to assume that the greatest eaters do, as well. Great eaters, like great athletes, possess a certain ruthlessness. James loves his pet goldfish and hopes to have a dog. But for him, animals exist mainly to be consumed. On a visit to an aquarium when he was two, he startled me and the people nearby by pointing to one tank and asking: “Can we eat them?” A few months ago, watching a documentary about giant squid, James turned to me and said: “I’m getting kind of hungry. You, too?” (He was disappointed to learn that giant squid is not very tasty; he adores squid and octopus and orders them whenever possible.) Last year, his kindergarten class read Charlotte’s Web. One evening, when we were two-thirds through the book, I asked James if he was worried about what might happen to Wilbur the pig. He shot me an incredulous look. “Of course not; if Wilbur dies, that means we get hot, juicy bacon,” he said, elongating the last three words to underscore his delight at the thought.{...}

Too bad he's only six, because a kid who can read Charlotte's Web and instantly think "hot juicy bacon" would undoubtedly grow up into a man I could love.

Posted by: Kathy at 10:27 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
Post contains 764 words, total size 4 kb.

Now, this is useful. Particularly for some chicks I know.

See, he puts it in his back pocket at the end, but I was totally thinking "It's a cute little clutch purse!" I mean, in the dark, who's going to know the difference?

Just try and mug a chick who's carrying one of those. I dare you.

Posted by: Kathy at 10:31 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 67 words, total size 1 kb.

Because what's been missing around here lately is some random outrage on my behalf. Sorry. I've been slacking. I'll try to do better in the future, but, I present to you, my devoted Cake Eater readers, my effort to try and fix the problem.

1. I just looked at my calendar for next week, and it appears Daylight Savings Time starts next Sunday, March 9th. WHAT THE HELL? That seems a wee bit early, eh? If things continue apace, we're still going to have snow on the ground. How, precisely, is that going to help the farmers in this neck of the woods, eh?

I seem to remember this early DST thing happening last year, too, but as I was in the throes of recovering from serious surgery, it didn't make too much of a dent, apparently. I'm not really getting this whole deal. It may help the folks down south, but up here in the hinterlands, where the sun just started setting a few moments before six p.m.? Not going to help all that much, I'm afraid. Particularly since the ground is still frozen solid.

2. WHAT THE HELL?

While I fully realize I'm behind the times here, the simple fact that Jessica Alba and any number of other celebrities have lined up behind Barack Obama because, and excuse me while I paraphrase here, he'll be OUR president, and not the president of the top 10% of the country, doesn't exactly make me want to vote for the guy, ya dig? (Not like I was going to anyway, but I'm on a roll, or will be shortly, so I'm not going to let facts get in the damn way.)

Who do these people think they are? THEY ARE THE TOP TEN PERCENT OF THE COUNTRY! They make ludicrous amounts of money for what? Pretending to be someone else. Oh, that's a NOBLE profession right there, let me tell ya, and one that, apparently, qualifies them to tell us who to freakin' vote for. BITE ME! Take your fake tits, ass implants, botox, and, most importantly, your misguided noblesse oblige and shove it up your ass.

Posted by: Kathy at 01:25 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 372 words, total size 2 kb.

Courtesy of Dearest Jonathan, we have a remix of the new Indy trailer, cut specifically to make it look like the trailers of yore.

I think my favorite bit is that they lifted the music from the truck hijacking-on-the-road-to-Cairo from Raiders. Despite the fact that I'm positively sure John Williams plagiarized it from someone else, even if I don't know who, it's still great music, loaded with suspense and intrigue---something which, I think is lacking in the teaser trailer. In the teaser trailer, you have the triumphant music that we all associate with Dr. Jones, that signals, yes, he will, of course, come out the winner! Because he's Indy! Of course he's going to triumph. He just has to, otherwise the world will shift on its axis.

See, the thing that bothers me with most trailers nowadays is that, after viewing them, you don't really have to go and see the movie. They outline the entire plot, and reassure the audience that there's a happy ending. It's as if Hollywood as a whole has decided that most movies are formulaic---which they are, but you can blame that one on the ancient Greeks---so they're going to go out of their way to admit that, and try and point out the interesting and significant portions of a film that, they believe, make it stand out from the other formulaic entries in the marketplace. That's the wrong way to go, if you ask me. Yes, most movies may be formulaic, but you have to pay heed to the formula. The formula's there for a reason---because it works. It's the foundation on which the house is built, and you screw with it at your peril. Everyone knows that a neglected foundation will cause a house to fall to the ground---and it's the same with the films. You can have all the nifty accoutrement you'd like in a house---or a film--- but if you neglect the foundation, the whole shebang is going to come crashing down. Ultimately, this is the mistake I believe they've made with the newest Indy. I mean, after all, this is precisely what Georgie Porgie Puddin' and Pie did with the Star Wars prequels---why would we think that he'd do otherwise with the latest installment of Dr. Jones and his adventures. Well, the answer to that is Steven Spielberg, but one can only hope that he fought the good fight this time around and didn't let Lucas win.

Erm. I digress, but it is interesting, no, how this trailer whets your appetite for the actual story, while the original makes you simply long to be reacquainted with Indy?

Posted by: Kathy at 10:23 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 449 words, total size 3 kb.

So, a few people around here know that---and a few people over at Ace's place---rabid commenters Russ from Winterset and his wife, The Lovely Janis, will soon be adding to Winterset's population by one. Yep. You read that right. They're knocked up and are due in April.

A few weeks back, I received an email from Janis, from the hospital, where she was incarcerated with a mild case of pre-eclampsyia. Since the baby was only at twenty-eight weeks or thereabouts at the time, the doctors were concerned enough to start injecting steroids, to develop the baby's lungs should he/she/it be born prematurely, and for Janis to have been put on bed rest until the birth. She's ok'ed for me to share where she's at, and since I received another email from her the other day, I'll use her words instead of mine:

So here is that latest on me and Baby H---I had a doctorÂ’s appointment Tuesday and the BP was up (140/9 when I went in and after a hour of doing the non-stress test on the baby (which is listening to the baby's heartbeat by hooking up monitors around my belly and recording the heart rate, when the baby kicks and if I have contractions - the heart rate is great 158, the baby kicks and moves a bunch and I have not had any contractions which is really good) my BP had dropped to 138/80. The swelling in my feet and hands are back, but not to the extreme they were two weeks ago. No protein in my urine for the 2nd time too which is good. I know when I have done too much -- my head starts to feel fuzzy and I need to go put my feet up and either read, sleep, do counted cross-stitch, finish the baby blankets I am making for friends, check the internet or see what is crappy TV has on. {...} I donÂ’t have to go back to the doctor till next Wednesday.

We are at 31 weeks, and doctor’s first goal is 34 weeks. The doctor tells me that the pre-eclampsia can get worse for no reason so we will have to be ready for anything. Or the symptoms will stay in check as they are now and we will go as far as the Doctor deems safe – probably around 37 weeks. So it’s a week to week thing right now. My goal this week is to at least have a bag packed for me that we can grab and go if needed.

So, since Janis has to go back to the doctor tomorrow, join me in wishing her and Russ (who seems to be preoccupied by thoughts of bacon right about now) the best of luck and sending the three of them happy thoughts/prayers/good karma that everything continues to go well (or at least be uneventful from here on in) and that they make it to thirty-seven weeks.

The only thing that I would recommend for Russ to do is to take all the sharp implements and keep them out of Janis' reach, so that when the Ginsu commercials start getting to be too much, she doesn't pick up one of her own knives to prove that, yes, her knives CAN TOO CUT THROUGH A TIN CAN, whilst shouting, "NO ONE NEEDS A FRIGGIN' GINSU FOR THAT!"

Because my friends, I think it goes without saying that Ginsu Derangement Syndrome (GDS) is a side-effect of sitting on your ass and being forced to watch too much tee vee. Janis is at high risk for this. She needs our prayers and well wishes. Send them to her in the comments. (You can send them to Russ, too, because I'm fairly certain he's going to need them as well. You try keeping a knife out of a determined pregnant woman's hands. )

Posted by: Kathy at 05:25 PM | Comments (5) | Add Comment
Post contains 650 words, total size 4 kb.

I chose not to liveblog the Oscars this year because, well, I was too busy hosting my annual Oscar Snarkfest. Mr. H. came over and we chatted online with Cake Eater Sister Christi, who was having her own little Oscar Snarkfest down in Omaha. Good times, eh? Sure beats last year, when I was vomiting bile in the hospital. (Seriously, I did not remember who won what last year---or anything else about the ceremony, even though I watched it, in between throwing green stuff up and receiving a fresh IV. Pretty pathetic, even though I have a fairly good excuse.) Anyway, it was good to get things back to normal, so we had the usual artichoke dip, the mustard wings Mr. H. makes so well, the wheel of brie encased in puff pastry and plenty of other goodies. We settled in to watch and we had our usual snark fest. It was so delicious. Loved it.

Anyway, here's the wrapup, because I, of course, had some thoughts about what people were wearing. Some of it's good, and some of it's baaaaad---per usual.

While Cate was nominated twice, she went home empty handed. I can only think the humiliation of that was enlarged because she was wearing a muumuu. Now, don't get me wrong, it's a gorgeous muumuu, but it's a muumuu nonetheless and she should have known better.

At least she looked better than Jennifer Garner.

Oy vey. That dress doesn't do a damn thing for her other than make her look like a washed out dishrag. The hair doesn't deter much from that impression, either. But let's get back to the dress: I bet it looked pretty on paper, and on the mannequin, but on her? Nope. She's one of the few women in Hollywood with boobs---and they're natural looking boobs, which is good, because it means she's either got a really good plastic surgeon (and she should keep him or her on retainer, lest they get ideas and start banging on to go and fix clef palates for Doctors Without Borders, ala Sean McNamara) or she's a lucky girl in that she'd naturally endowed. So I have no idea why on earth she'd choose to squash them down. It looks like she's used to bandaging down her boobs to get on the boys football team, because she can throw a wicked long spiral (and she's got the guns to do it) and if only they'd realize that GIRLS CAN TOO PLAY FOOTBALL, all would be fine and dandy, but that she forgot this was the Oscars and she could, ahem, let the girls out to play because no linebackers were headed her way. She threw on a few diamond-encrusted bracelets to jazz up the outfit yet it doesn't really deter from this impression, but rather seems like she was overcompensating.

Fortunately for Jennifer, she was not alone in the boob-squashing department. Keri Russell had some issues with that as well.

Oy. This dress does nothing for her. The color is blah. As she's normally so pretty, she should rip it up and wash the floor with it as revenge. It doesn't fit properly, and as the Cake Eater sister (and designer extraordinaire) noticed, it was one of the few strapless dresses in existence that kept rising instead of sliding down, like they normally do. Apparently, according to Christi, she kept having to put her hands on her hips to keep the dress down while she was on the stage.

As far as fit is concerned, well Penelope Cruz should have paid a little more attention to the way her gown fit.

Yeah, you're thinking, HOT!, and NICE ASS! , so what the hell is my problem. Ok, well here's my problem. Penelope, sweet, tiny, weighs no more than 110 lbs. has back flab hanging out. It's not much in the scheme of things, and it's kind of a happy moment to realize that Penelope has back flab like the rest of us, but still. She should have ixned it for something else. That the thing has feathers on it, well, that should go without saying. Yeesh.

Getting back to colors that wash pretty women out, well, Cameron Diaz should have gone with something other than this Dior number.

It's a pretty color, yes. But it does absolutely nothing for her. It flattens her boobs, ala Garner. (And, as a related aside, how do they stand it? God, that's gotta hurt.) It washes her out, even with her surfer tan. And the back is well....yeesh.

That, my friends, is what the cool kids would say is a "hot mess." I can see where this would have looked good on paper, but they should've picked a different fabric, because, ahem, it needs to be ironed. Badly. Besides, it gives yet another skinny actress back flab.

Yet, it's still better than the European contingent who won the awards for best supporting actress and best actress, respectively.

Tilda? Well, I think we're beyond hope here. She's a striking woman, and while I appreciate the fact that it appears she deliberately chooses clothes that play up this characteristic, well, this is just ugly. There's no getting around it. It's period-nightgown shapeless, it's blah-black and it's missing a sleeve entirely. She should have worn the bracelet on the unadorned arm, just to give it some balance.

And Marion, well...fish scales as adornment? Eh? I get the whole It's-a-mermaid-dress-hence-it-should-have-a-fishy-theme, but, well, yeesh. While she totally pulls it off and manages to look GORGEOUS nonetheless, perhaps she should stay away from the Gaultier in the future, lest she get a reputation for this sort of thing.

It appears red was the color this year.

This is how you should wear red.

Here's another fabulous example of how to pull a red dress off.

Dame Helen could give lessons.

And perhaps she should pull Katherine Heigel over and tell her, Darling, never put on a dress with cutouts.

That and never let the red be orange-based red. You need purple-based red to make it really work.

All those aside, here's the worst dress of the evening---hands down. And it really kills me to do this because it's our own little Minnesota-Blogger-Who-Could, Diablo Cody, who wore it.

Oh, honey. You are smokin'. Who talked you into wearing this leopard print muumuu? You need to kill them immediately. Show no mercy. Because, while I'm sure it was comfortable, it doesn't do a damn thing for you. It made you look fat, and you're obviously not. Also, I don't think I need to remind you, but you almost pulled a Sharon Stone as you were walking offstage. You caught the damn dress before it did anything untoward, but you shouldn't have had to worry about that in the first place. I repeat: you are smokin' hot. Don't do this to yourself again, ok? You're better than this.

And, lest it be said, that we're not equal opportunity slashers here at the Cake Eater Chronicles, here's a man...

Ah, Daniel Day Lewis. Whom I adore and can pull a fascinating character straight out of his ass and make it golden. But he really needs a new tux. While I appreciate the fact that he's a man with a tux in his closet (because every man needs one) and the fact that he keeps wearing it over and over again signals something that's not the first thing you think of when you think "Daniel Day Lewis," which is practicality. I like the fact that he keeps pulling the same one out and wearing it, over and over again, but he should be pulling a normal tux in his closet, not one with brown piping along the lapels. He wore the same damn tux to the BAFTA's last week in London, and to the SAG's a few weeks ago.

It's beyond tired, bud. Put it away and never wear it again.

So, my devoted Cake Eater readers, did that do you? I would hope so.

Posted by: Kathy at 02:00 PM | Comments (13) | Add Comment
Post contains 1336 words, total size 9 kb.

1 as late as, Pamela Anderson Sex Tape Online
, tewcj,

Posted by: bigboss at January 19, 2009 09:02 AM (p3JkX)

2 comment3, Short Skirt Gallery Online
, btmake, whole life insurance
, hxvwgm, Very Short Skirts Yeah
, %D, Discount transparent bikini
, 95957, gas powered scooters
, jumlnm,

Posted by: eowoiow at February 12, 2009 03:24 AM (jZVSK)

3 comment4, Groping Train In The World
, fabpg, High Risk Personal Loans Here
, 151292, Good military loans
, qvbhcs, debt settlement
, 41894, Pictures of no credit check student loans
, 55778,

Posted by: dssweow at February 12, 2009 08:54 AM (+KMI/)

4 comment3, guaranteed online personal loans
, 5234, No Credit Check Car Loans All Here
, 1284, Need 5000 Loan Overnight Great
, 6854, All about 1000 loan payday
, 258, Real personal loan for poor credit
, 8(((,

Posted by: Richard at February 14, 2009 07:32 PM (ha7pF)

5 comment3, Buy bad credit student loans
, 094155, Chyna Sex Tape Yeah
, ilhvv, jessica simpson sex tape
, 8DDD, free erotic stories
, :-PPP, Knock Off Coach Purses Information
, :-],

Posted by: paul at March 11, 2009 07:20 AM (ln+6S)

6 comment3, Adriana Lima Sex Tape In The World
, wpr, Cheap Cigarettes - Best Decisions
, >:-]]], Very Short Skirts Photos
, rrzf, Do you want alyson hannigan sex tape
, :-[[, verne troyer sex tape
, 7147,

Posted by: sin4 at March 12, 2009 04:37 AM (/dxTP)

7 comment1, Bad Credit Student Loans - Best Decisions
, vkopx, Chyna Sex Tape Real
, 17504, Price of free erotic stories
, 8-PPP, Price of jessica simpson sex tape
, rhxrj, knock off coach purses
, 18426,

Posted by: explorerst at March 12, 2009 02:22 PM (hns8e)

8 comment5, Cheapest no credit check car loans
, zngxjg, Astrive Student Loans For You
, etzqm, personal loan for poor credit
, vnxff, 1000 loan payday
, 71623, Great acs student loans
, > ,

Posted by: gunarson at March 16, 2009 05:03 AM (AhJFL)

9 comment3, kristin davis sex tape
, zgg, Information about pamela anderson sex tape
, 8O, vanessa hudgens sex tape
, 8DD, Kim Kardashian Sex Tape - Best Decisions
, bprzc, noelia sex tape
, pae,

Posted by: claussberg at March 16, 2009 12:24 PM (ZPZS2)

10 comment5, cheap cigarettes
, hmuju, Best adriana lima sex tape
, =))), Alyson Hannigan Sex Tape All Kinds
, 693, Brilliant very short skirts
, %PP, Verne Troyer Sex Tape Pictures
, hdrin,

Posted by: keeley at March 16, 2009 02:56 PM (cBdQc)

11 comment1, Information about free erotic stories
, 63884, No Credit Check Loans Real
, 181904, Knock Off Coach Purses Now
, tsu, Best super cheap airplane tickets
, >:-(((, Bad Credit Student Loans Here
, 8-[[,

Posted by: hhvdks at March 23, 2009 12:02 PM (ReZ7r)

12 Knock Off Designer Purses - Best Decisions CHEAPEST KNOCK OFF DESIGNER PURSES CHEAPEST KNOCK OFF DESIGNER PURSES Knock Off Designer Purses - Best Decisions

Posted by: KNOCK OFF DESIGNER PURSES at March 27, 2009 02:33 PM (fLH37)

13 ALL ABOUT KRISTIN DAVIS SEX TAPE Kristin Davis Sex Tape Now Kristin Davis Sex Tape Now kristin davis sex tape

Posted by: kristin davis sex tape at March 30, 2009 11:48 AM (8kBBz)

Hide Comments | Add Comment

The general plot of Star Wars: Episode IV according to a three-year-old. It's chock-a-block full of relevant observations.

{Ht: Gary over at the Butcher's Shop}

Posted by: Kathy at 11:48 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 45 words, total size 1 kb.

The last Krispy Kreme has closed here in the Twin Cities.

I'm so ashamed. This is my fault. I'll admit it. I'm to blame. Since the various Krispy Kremes about town were nowhere near the Cake Eater pad, I visited only occasionally when we had a car, and then not at all when we didn't. Maple Grove is quite the hike from the Cake Eater Pad. It takes about a half-hour to get there---and that's without traffic. I just couldn't be bothered to get in the car and drive all the way up there to get some donuts. I lamented their lack of inner city locations, but, woe is me, did nothing to support their glazed ambitions because it was too far to go for donuts. I should have made the effort. Really, I should have.

To be fair, however, they did deliver to all the local Holiday stations, and there are a few of those nearby. I patronized their glazed deliciousness via the local gas station, but alas, they lost that contract to a local grocery store chain a few months ago. And while I like the local grocery chain's custard filled chocolate bismarcks, I still adored the glazed goodness of a Krispy Kreme. Unfortunately, I didn't adore them often enough. If I had, well, perhaps we wouldn't have come to this sad state of affairs.

Sigh.

The last Krispy Kreme donut I ate was on August 10th, 2007. The only reason I remember this is because it a very bad day for me. I was supposed to receive my final chemo treatment that day, but could not because I was short a few bajillion neutrophils, and was very upset about not being finished with that nightmare. After I sat around on the sofa, crying for about an hour, I wiped my eyes and decided there was only one thing that was going to make me feel better: a donut. Red and puffy eyes and eyebrows notwithstanding, I headed over to the local Holiday station and purchased a glazed donut for eighty-five cents. The sugary concoction made me feel better. Yes, I was comfort eating, but honestly, who cares? It's Kracky Kreme: if one of their donuts doesn't make you feel better when you're down and out, well, you haven't an appreciation for the finer things in life, and no one can help you out in that respect.

Fare thee well, oh glazed yummyness. I shall miss you terribly. I'm very sorry that I didn't serve you better.

Posted by: Kathy at 10:45 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 429 words, total size 2 kb.

How that wild and crazy guy became Steve Martin.

Make sure to check out the clip from The Tonight Show. If only to see Johnny Carson's coat.

{ht: The Cake Eater Sister, Christi}

Posted by: Kathy at 08:21 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 37 words, total size 1 kb.

"I'm the fiercest elf of all, bitches!"

That's just freakin' funny. I bow to the Maestro, The Manolo, for producing this, the most marvelous of the fairy tales.

And while we're on the topic of Project Runway, I cannot tell you how badly I want Christian to fall flat on his face at Fashion Week. The troll is extremely talented, yes, and he's definitely more talented than, say, last year's winner, Jeffrey, but his clothes are not flattering to a woman's body. He makes them for himself, obviously, because he takes such joy in trying them on every episode. He's yet another gay designer who wants to make Barbie clothes for a living, but his Barbie is the one packaged as "Androgyny Avant-garde Barbie." Despite his being part of that annoying trend, he's a. too young and b. TOO FULL OF HIMSELF to deserve winning. He needs to be served a whopping portion of humble pie.

I suspect, however, with Victoria Beckham on the judges panel, he'll win though. She's got a thing for funky little trolls, so I suspect she'll throw her weight (HA!) toward him.

Perhaps there should be a reality show called "Behind the Dummy" that would follow Christian around after he won Project Runway, and would capture his downward spiral. I mean, you know it's going to happen, right? He's just way too full of himself. He's a pretty scrawny guy; if his already lopsided head gets any bigger he's going to tip right over.

As far as the rest of the crew is concerned, well, Jillian's attention to detail---cut and fit, mostly---has grown on me over the past couple of episodes. My mother (master seamstress that she is) would probably love Jillian. Mom's rule of thumb is that you should be able to turn any dress inside out and still be able to wear it. No loose threads, no messy seams, no uneven hems---no nothing. I think you could probably do this with Jillian's work---and that says something rather remarkable in a competition where the contestants generally have less than forty-eight hours work time to put together something fabulous. I'm sure all the time she spent fussing with the iron would have warmed my mother's heart, because my mother couldn't live without her Rowenta. Jillian's the dark horse. She could win it all, and I can sincerely say that I don't think I'd mind if she did.

Rami NEEDS to lay off the draping. We all KNOW he loves the draping, and he can do it very well (and, I can definitively say that, after watching my mom and sister struggle with it for hours on end, draping is NOT as easy as he makes it look, so he is rather talented in that area) but, for once, I agree with La Nina: I want to see what else he can do. If he doesn't pull something out of his ass, Chris will get the coveted runway spot by default. That said, I think his clothes are, by far, the most beautiful of all the designers and are the ones I would LOVE to wear. I think that if you put on one of his dresses, you'd just feel beautiful. That says a lot.

As far as Chris is concerned, well, I just love the guy. I want to give him a big hug and invite him over for a grade school-esque sleepover. We could have catty conversations while we drank steaming mugs of cocoa in our bathrobes. It'd be SO much fun, but I'm not really certain he should be in the competition at this late stage. He's definitely got a taste for the flamboyant, but, surprisingly, his work never really elicits anything other than 'ho-hum' for moi. I really thought his dress this past week was gorgeous, but it was derivative of what he did with Christian for the avant-garde challenge. I really just want him to go nuts, but to do it the right way, with the right taste level, and I don't know if that's going to happen.

So, what say you, my devoted Cake Eater readers? Who are you rooting for?

Posted by: Kathy at 10:14 AM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
Post contains 701 words, total size 4 kb.

Not really a joiner, per se, but this is one club I could join with ease. Minnesotans for Global Warming.

Yep. Sign me up. Particularly considering it's 11 here right now. And that's an improvement over recent days.

{shamelessly hoarked from RP}

Posted by: Kathy at 12:37 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 54 words, total size 1 kb.

What we have here, kids, is the new teaser trailer for the latest chapter in the Indiana Jones saga. Take a peek.

Man, I don't know whether to be excited or just scared as hell that Lucas is going to fuck it up.

I adore Indy. I really do. Raiders is one of my favorite movies. Is it the equivalent of high literature filmmaking? No. It's definitely not Wings of the Dove material, but the glorious part is that it doesn't have to be. It's a story worth telling, and they told it well. The simple fact that they told it well, in my humble opinion, puts it right up there with any number of Best Picture Oscar winners. Besides, it's got nasty Nazis, long lost hidden treasure, Denholm Elliot, John Rhys-Davies, and snakes, which are a trial to our mercenary treasure hunter, conflicted hero, Indiana Jones, whose weapon of choice is a bull whip. What more could you ask for? But most important, it's got Marion Ravenwood, Indy's spunky lost love. Karen Allen doesn't get a lot of credit for making that movie work, but it's been obvious in the two sequels, simply by her absence, how much her presence in Raiders was integral to making the legend of Indy come alive. She gave Indy a past---and a caddish one at that. But she also established that he had his redeeming points, particularly when he mourned her in the bar in Cairo. He could have been a blank slate, but he came with baggage, and that made him all the more compelling a character. That's why I'm SO stoked to see that they brought Marion back for this new one. I have missed her terribly. (According to IMDB, we will also see Abner, Marion's father, for the first time, and he's being played by the always excellent John Hurt. I'm assuming this will be in flashback format, since it was established in Raiders that Abner was dead.)

But there are several things about this trailer that are very disturbing. Very, very disturbing. First off, what's with the lead-in that paints Indy as the next messiah? "He protected the power of the divine?" Hardly. If you'll remember he wanted the Ark to be opened up repeatedly and studied, but the government disagreed with him. "He saved the cradle of civilization?" I don't really remember Temple of Doom all that well---I refuse to watch it again because it was so horrible---but I think that might be a bit of a stretch. "He triumphed over the armies of evil?" What? He defeated Hitler singlehandedly? While Indy's a fairly resourceful dude, I doubt even he could have managed that. He looked like he was about to shit his pants when Hitler autographed the Grail Diary.

This introduction just makes me wary. Georgie Porgie Puddin' and Pie Lucas seemingly is unable to work with shades of gray---his characters of late are either all good, or all bad. For example, he reworked the cantina scene in Star Wars to have Greedo shoot first, instead of Han, who was the culprit in the original edition. Everything white must be good. Everything in black must be bad. There's no in-between. No nuance. I know he'd probably argue otherwise, but this is my impression. Lawrence Kasdan---the original screenwriter who gave Indy breath, bones, flesh, and flaws---where are you when we need you? Indy is not the messiah. He's not even all that good, in the scheme of things. Now, I will grant you that, with Last Crusade, the kiddification of Indiana Jones had already started, but they have the opportunity to turn it around with this film, and I sincerely hope they do. But with Lucas holding the purse strings, well, you have to wonder if it will actually happen.

The next problem I have with this is that, apparently, Indy's got a sidekick---again---in Ray Winstone. While I like Winstone just fine, the last time Indy had a sidekick, well, it was Short Round in Temple of Doom and we all know how well that worked out. (I don't count Indy's Dad as a sidekick. He was on the same level as Indy, not beneath him, which is where a sidekick generally resides. Sallah doesn't really count either, because there was a certain quality about him that just doesn't qualify him for sidekick mode. He could arrange any number of things for Indy---sidekicks are just along for the ride, and to throw Indy his whip when it's out of his reach.) Indy, for all intents and purposes, is a loner. His work is at its best when he works by himself. A sidekick will simply slow things down, and create too much bleedin' exposition. I hope they treat Ray well. I really do, but, gracious, it certainly doesn' t bode well.

I don't know how excited I am to see that there's the possibility of a "New Indy" being introduced, either. Yes, you need someone to bring in the younger viewers, especially since it's been nineteen years since Last Crusade was released, but Shia LeBeouf? You couldn't come up with anyone else? Eh. I don't know. I think this casting move also harks back to the Lucas kiddification. Gotta have someone the kids can relate to. Bleh.

But there are also good points to this trailer. Cate Blanchett apparently is the villainess (replete with jet black hair!), and she rarely, if ever, sucks, so it's got that going for it. And, of course, Marion makes her return, so there's that, too. It's also got a warehouse full of wooden boxes, and US Army cars and trucks. Hmmm. Where have we seen that before? Could it be that Indy, and his trusty sidekick (sigh!) are going in to try and retrieve the Ark? Hmmm? Trying to tie up some loose strings? I don't know. It's also, apparently, got ancient temples replete with booby traps, and that collapse at the drop of a fedora.

Sigh.

I JUST DON'T KNOW ABOUT ANY OF THIS!

I'll be there, first in line, when it's released, but, really and truly, THIS HAD BETTER NOT SUCK! They ended it on a good note with Last Crusade. I can only hope that they don't regret making another sequel, and that I don't regret handing over $8.50 to see it.

Posted by: Kathy at 11:48 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 1055 words, total size 7 kb.

I fully believe that RP's kids are going to be world class, Grade A Prime people by the time they hit adulthood.

Posted by: Kathy at 11:46 AM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
Post contains 34 words, total size 1 kb.