Dear Blob,
Here are today's headlines in the LA Times California section; it's a grab-bag of important tidbits that are apparently, of importance to Californians:
-Police Dog Found Dead in Squad Car
-Nasa Employee 1 of 4 fire victims
-Britney Spears custody modifed
-Pot Operations targeted in raid
-2 girls hurt in shooting
-a couple more nibblets about sex abuse, Marine contempt and electricity rates.
Now while the news is often bleak and unfunny, I like to have a vague knowledge of topics that often make me feel better about my life. I wasn't hurt in a shooting, or a fire victim and I don't have dead dog in my car.
And in LA, it is equally important to know about drug raids as it is to know that Britney is Healing! A bit of good news relevant to all Californian citizens! Because we were worried. As soon as my Georgia-native manpanion moved to LA, he developed a concern for Britney Spear's well-being, as do my pregnant Lateen neighbors and the homeless junkie whores on skid row. Californians are concerned about Britney! Well, it's a brighter day for us Californians, because Britney and Kevin are modifying their custody arrangement! Upon reading this LA Times news, the relief that washes over me, makes up for the snub I received from Jenna Bush, in not being invited to her wedding. All is well! Congratulations Britney & Kevin!!!!!!!
Love The Ukulady
ps: my manpanion has invented Green Beans that taste like French Fries!
Recipe: Coat Green Beans in olive oil, sea salt and pepper and roast in oven at 450 for about 20 minutes. They are unbelievable!
pps: I hope Britney and Kevin start cooking together with their private chef!
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Friday, June 20, 2008
Jamie Lynn Spears and Vaginas!
Dear Blob,
Jamie Lynn Spears, 17 year old sister to Britney, has given birth via scheduled C-Section. Her teen vagina is still firm, tight, but not so fresh and virginal as a Christian-valued community member, would prefer. And while we're discussing tight vajees, my manager, who is tight in the Hollywood community, informed me that the renown plastic surgeon to the stars does at least 3 vajee rejuvs a day. I suppose the surgeon gathers the celebrity vajee flaps into a bouquet of sorts, and perhaps uses a tourniquet, then clips the pleats of vagina, trimming the pleats into a non-plural pleat, leaving 2 or 3 vagina folds, which, when un-tourniquetted, reveals a super-tight vagina, the skin shiny from it's vajee-lip-face-lift, like Joan River's shiny sheen-of-a-face.
In other, but related news, Cindy McCain terrifies me. She is so face-lifted-scary. I admire John McCain for living in a tiger cage in Vietnam for 5 years, but he resembles a shriveled testicle and is a puppet-of-the-Dark-Side. I love Barack and Michelle and if (Crossies!) he becomes the president of our pathetic and crumbled country, it will be an amazing and wonderful day.
Love The Ukulady
ps: Unfortunately love is bad for summer bikini-bodies. My winter of making-out and eating sweets has destroyed 2 years of dilligent LA-driven body-fat-minimalzation work. Being less than 5 feet is handy when I need to dash through crowds, but is a bummer when one cookie adds a bra-size. Cookies and the pill.
pps: I'd rather be fat than worried about getting knocked-up, like Jamie Lynn. I hope the irresponsible slut goes on the pill.
Jamie Lynn Spears, 17 year old sister to Britney, has given birth via scheduled C-Section. Her teen vagina is still firm, tight, but not so fresh and virginal as a Christian-valued community member, would prefer. And while we're discussing tight vajees, my manager, who is tight in the Hollywood community, informed me that the renown plastic surgeon to the stars does at least 3 vajee rejuvs a day. I suppose the surgeon gathers the celebrity vajee flaps into a bouquet of sorts, and perhaps uses a tourniquet, then clips the pleats of vagina, trimming the pleats into a non-plural pleat, leaving 2 or 3 vagina folds, which, when un-tourniquetted, reveals a super-tight vagina, the skin shiny from it's vajee-lip-face-lift, like Joan River's shiny sheen-of-a-face.
In other, but related news, Cindy McCain terrifies me. She is so face-lifted-scary. I admire John McCain for living in a tiger cage in Vietnam for 5 years, but he resembles a shriveled testicle and is a puppet-of-the-Dark-Side. I love Barack and Michelle and if (Crossies!) he becomes the president of our pathetic and crumbled country, it will be an amazing and wonderful day.
Love The Ukulady
ps: Unfortunately love is bad for summer bikini-bodies. My winter of making-out and eating sweets has destroyed 2 years of dilligent LA-driven body-fat-minimalzation work. Being less than 5 feet is handy when I need to dash through crowds, but is a bummer when one cookie adds a bra-size. Cookies and the pill.
pps: I'd rather be fat than worried about getting knocked-up, like Jamie Lynn. I hope the irresponsible slut goes on the pill.
Monday, June 16, 2008
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Do Horses Swim?
Dear Blob,
Manpanion and I went to the beach today and discussed desert islands and I was reminded of the 80's movie, The Black Stallion, a "children's" movie that forever scarred me, implanting within me, a fear of being on a sinking boat and subsequently, a desert island with only a wild horse for company. Manpanion is too young to have seen The Black Stallion and insists that horses do not swim. In The Black Stallion, the Black Stallion saved the young boy, swimming them both to the deserted island. I think horses swim. I am writing this blob before researching on the interweb, so I encourage you, Reader, to discuss with your friends, Do Horses Swim?
Love The Ukulady
ps: I'm 95% sure I saw Aaron Eckhart from "Thank You For Smoking" jogging on the beach. Manpanion doesn't know who Aaron Eckhart is, so he was disappointed that his first potential LA celebrity sighting, was, alas, not a celebrity sighting, for him. Mr. Eckhart was shirtless.
pps: Skee Ball courts in arcades from Georgia to Santa Monica, CA, have unfortunately begun replacing the satisfying wooden skee balls with lighter, lamer, plastic - boo.
Manpanion and I went to the beach today and discussed desert islands and I was reminded of the 80's movie, The Black Stallion, a "children's" movie that forever scarred me, implanting within me, a fear of being on a sinking boat and subsequently, a desert island with only a wild horse for company. Manpanion is too young to have seen The Black Stallion and insists that horses do not swim. In The Black Stallion, the Black Stallion saved the young boy, swimming them both to the deserted island. I think horses swim. I am writing this blob before researching on the interweb, so I encourage you, Reader, to discuss with your friends, Do Horses Swim?
Love The Ukulady
ps: I'm 95% sure I saw Aaron Eckhart from "Thank You For Smoking" jogging on the beach. Manpanion doesn't know who Aaron Eckhart is, so he was disappointed that his first potential LA celebrity sighting, was, alas, not a celebrity sighting, for him. Mr. Eckhart was shirtless.
pps: Skee Ball courts in arcades from Georgia to Santa Monica, CA, have unfortunately begun replacing the satisfying wooden skee balls with lighter, lamer, plastic - boo.
Blob-Writing
Dear Blob,
Each morning as I drink my coffee and read about the impending depression, I consider writing a blob, but ever since I fell in love, I have nothing new to say. The same topics run through my head: reluctant acceptance of the still-present tummy-Roll, less firm these days due to less yoga, due to constant travel; irritation at Miley Cyrus, the Simpson sisters, the Scientologists - however, nothing out of the ordinary; boredom of politics, rising gas prices and the constant battle to fuck fear and live in the present moment.
One-Sentence Blobs of The Ukulady:
-Say, "Heat Flap" and then reverse it, "Flap Heat", several times, quickly.
-I wish cookies were vegetables.
Love The UkuLady
ps: LA lesbians are too cool to have mullets. At Dyke Days LA, my manpanion and I played "Count The Mullet" and disappointingly, we only saw 2 potential mullets. Both were more like stringy 80's punk hair-cuts, like the skinny-legged Silverlake people's hair. For my readers who don't know Silverlake people, they look like very well-groomed gay junkies wearing $200 jeans that make their legs look like pipe-cleaners.
Each morning as I drink my coffee and read about the impending depression, I consider writing a blob, but ever since I fell in love, I have nothing new to say. The same topics run through my head: reluctant acceptance of the still-present tummy-Roll, less firm these days due to less yoga, due to constant travel; irritation at Miley Cyrus, the Simpson sisters, the Scientologists - however, nothing out of the ordinary; boredom of politics, rising gas prices and the constant battle to fuck fear and live in the present moment.
One-Sentence Blobs of The Ukulady:
-Say, "Heat Flap" and then reverse it, "Flap Heat", several times, quickly.
-I wish cookies were vegetables.
Love The UkuLady
ps: LA lesbians are too cool to have mullets. At Dyke Days LA, my manpanion and I played "Count The Mullet" and disappointingly, we only saw 2 potential mullets. Both were more like stringy 80's punk hair-cuts, like the skinny-legged Silverlake people's hair. For my readers who don't know Silverlake people, they look like very well-groomed gay junkies wearing $200 jeans that make their legs look like pipe-cleaners.
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
Roadtrip Picsies & Lindsey Lohan’s Lesbianism!
Dear Blob!
Even though I am not gay, I am oddly excited that, according to US Weekly and Star Magazine, LIndsey Lohan is in a hot and heavy relationship with a woman. The Ukulady performed at LA's oldest Lesbian bar last night, and was able to tell the news to the audience, most of whom, were unaware of Lindsey's newly-outed lesbianism. Everyone was very excited, although there were several naysayers, jeeringly calling Lindsey bi-curious and bored. Perhaps she is, but regardless, Lindsey Lohan is nibbling the ruffled meat curtains and not hiding it from the public. Perhaps that's what I admire; her unwillingness to pretend she's not in a lesbian relationship.
In other news, here is the requested link to my Roadtrip Pictures:
Cross Country Trip
Even though I am not gay, I am oddly excited that, according to US Weekly and Star Magazine, LIndsey Lohan is in a hot and heavy relationship with a woman. The Ukulady performed at LA's oldest Lesbian bar last night, and was able to tell the news to the audience, most of whom, were unaware of Lindsey's newly-outed lesbianism. Everyone was very excited, although there were several naysayers, jeeringly calling Lindsey bi-curious and bored. Perhaps she is, but regardless, Lindsey Lohan is nibbling the ruffled meat curtains and not hiding it from the public. Perhaps that's what I admire; her unwillingness to pretend she's not in a lesbian relationship.
In other news, here is the requested link to my Roadtrip Pictures:
Cross Country Trip
Sunday, June 1, 2008
RoadTrip Fever!
Dear Blob!
Who are these talentless, time-wasting, horse-faced whores from "The Hills"? and when will they cease gracing the covers of my US Weekly magazines? I much prefer to learn about Brangelina, Kate Hudson's latest lovers, and other sordid sagas of real celebrities. The tacky, rather ugly girls from "The Hills" do not hold the appeal of Jennifer Aniston's rocky, but juicy, love-life or the ongoing drama of good old Brittney and Jamie Lyn and newly-lesbian Lindsey Lohan! You go Lindsey!
In other news, I just spent 11 days on a cross-country roadtrip with True Love (TR), from Georgia to Laland. Highlights included humid Southern-artists wedding in rural Alabama, which had superlative wedding barbecue and all-you-can-eat-shuck-your-own-oysters, an unheard of luxury
on the west coast, but apparently food-of-the-people, in the South. On the way to the Alabama wedding, TR and I stopped for gas and upon purchasing, I inquired of the salesclerk, "What town are we in?" and she replied, "Alabama." Again I said, "Yes, but what town?" "Alabama." "I know, but what town is this?" "Oh. Selma."
TR and I quested for the folk-art grocery-church in Vicksburg, Mississippi, and came upon a rainbow-painted cinder-block, mardi-gras-beaded, ramshackle extravaganza, which resembled Lady Elaine of Mr. Roger's Neighborhood's, house. Reverend Herman and his wife, Margaret, the very black and very quirky 93-year-old host and hostess , sat on the porch and were thrilled to have visitors. Reverend Herman built the folk-art grocery-church for Margaret and repeated the same 3 phrases throughout our visit: 1. You can leave a donation, but you don't have too! 2. Don't drink or gamble and bring all your money home to your wife, who is your angel! 3. Take pictures of my church I built! It was surrealism in action. No need for The Ukulady to go to Burning Man - magical adventures and surrealism are everywhere.
TR and I hit the Carlsbad Caverns, which are a Must-See for anyone interested in beauty; the Grand Canyon, another beauty Must-See; a ridiculously windy Mojave desert, complete with 3 inch white spiders.
I was surprised that Louisiana is seemingly all-swamp and Mississippi is full of magnolia trees. Texas is huge and apparently smoking is still legal, in eateries. In San Antonio, New Mexico, we came upon the 7th Best Burger in America, at a tiny hole-in-the-wall called The Buckhorn. GQ magazine had somehow stumbled upon the blink-and-miss-it town, and sure enough, the green chile burger was awesome.
No roadtrip can be summed up in a mere blog/b, but I wanted to alert you, oh Blob, and readers, as to my slacker whereabouts lately.
Love The Ukulady
ps: TR and I invented a great game called Mississippi Go! The goal is to spell Mississippi the fastest. Player 1 begins, spelling Mississippi as fast as he/she can and when finished spelling, he/she shouts, "Go!" and Player 2 spells as fast as possible and shouts Go! and onwards until neither player is capable of spelling Mississippi anymore. Good Times.
pps: We tried to go to a pie shack in Natchez, Mississippi, called Mammy's Cupboard, which is a huge black mammy-shaped building, with what Roadfood.com said has the best banana caramel pie ever. To our enormous disappointment, by the time we got to Mammy's cupboard, indeed a scarf-headed, tray-laden, black-lady-shaped building with the front door in her huge pink skirt, Mammy's cupboard was closed.
Who are these talentless, time-wasting, horse-faced whores from "The Hills"? and when will they cease gracing the covers of my US Weekly magazines? I much prefer to learn about Brangelina, Kate Hudson's latest lovers, and other sordid sagas of real celebrities. The tacky, rather ugly girls from "The Hills" do not hold the appeal of Jennifer Aniston's rocky, but juicy, love-life or the ongoing drama of good old Brittney and Jamie Lyn and newly-lesbian Lindsey Lohan! You go Lindsey!
In other news, I just spent 11 days on a cross-country roadtrip with True Love (TR), from Georgia to Laland. Highlights included humid Southern-artists wedding in rural Alabama, which had superlative wedding barbecue and all-you-can-eat-shuck-your-own-oysters, an unheard of luxury
on the west coast, but apparently food-of-the-people, in the South. On the way to the Alabama wedding, TR and I stopped for gas and upon purchasing, I inquired of the salesclerk, "What town are we in?" and she replied, "Alabama." Again I said, "Yes, but what town?" "Alabama." "I know, but what town is this?" "Oh. Selma."
TR and I quested for the folk-art grocery-church in Vicksburg, Mississippi, and came upon a rainbow-painted cinder-block, mardi-gras-beaded, ramshackle extravaganza, which resembled Lady Elaine of Mr. Roger's Neighborhood's, house. Reverend Herman and his wife, Margaret, the very black and very quirky 93-year-old host and hostess , sat on the porch and were thrilled to have visitors. Reverend Herman built the folk-art grocery-church for Margaret and repeated the same 3 phrases throughout our visit: 1. You can leave a donation, but you don't have too! 2. Don't drink or gamble and bring all your money home to your wife, who is your angel! 3. Take pictures of my church I built! It was surrealism in action. No need for The Ukulady to go to Burning Man - magical adventures and surrealism are everywhere.
TR and I hit the Carlsbad Caverns, which are a Must-See for anyone interested in beauty; the Grand Canyon, another beauty Must-See; a ridiculously windy Mojave desert, complete with 3 inch white spiders.
I was surprised that Louisiana is seemingly all-swamp and Mississippi is full of magnolia trees. Texas is huge and apparently smoking is still legal, in eateries. In San Antonio, New Mexico, we came upon the 7th Best Burger in America, at a tiny hole-in-the-wall called The Buckhorn. GQ magazine had somehow stumbled upon the blink-and-miss-it town, and sure enough, the green chile burger was awesome.
No roadtrip can be summed up in a mere blog/b, but I wanted to alert you, oh Blob, and readers, as to my slacker whereabouts lately.
Love The Ukulady
ps: TR and I invented a great game called Mississippi Go! The goal is to spell Mississippi the fastest. Player 1 begins, spelling Mississippi as fast as he/she can and when finished spelling, he/she shouts, "Go!" and Player 2 spells as fast as possible and shouts Go! and onwards until neither player is capable of spelling Mississippi anymore. Good Times.
pps: We tried to go to a pie shack in Natchez, Mississippi, called Mammy's Cupboard, which is a huge black mammy-shaped building, with what Roadfood.com said has the best banana caramel pie ever. To our enormous disappointment, by the time we got to Mammy's cupboard, indeed a scarf-headed, tray-laden, black-lady-shaped building with the front door in her huge pink skirt, Mammy's cupboard was closed.
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