Saggy Pants, Baggy Underpants & Newt & MItt's Repulsiveness

Dear Blob,
When is the trend of saggy, belted-pants-worn-below-the-man-panties going to go away? It is neither cute nor sexy and is very early 2000's.

In other news, I braved Target (pronounced Targay) today for simple necessities like a toothbrush, schedule planner and floss and ended up with 6 new pairs of kneesocks, bananas and a 6 pack of underwear that, when tried on at home, were discovered to be too large.

This is both awesome and unfortunate. Awesome because it means my ass is smaller than I thought, but unfortunate because now I have 6 pairs of unfitting, unbecoming, baggy-bottomed panties.

The good news is it's doubtful they will give me wedgies in yoga class, the most-frequent wedgie-location. The bad news is saggy-bottomed panties are not very attractive and the extra fabric actually makes my behind larger by inch-fractions, due to the extra material. Shopping for underwear is rarely a win-win situation.

Meanwhile, I am deeply repulsed by the political hullaballoo of Newt and Mitt and while I profoundly dislike the cult of Mormonism and Mitt's hypocrisy, I loathe Newt and his Stepford robot 3rd wife. Newt is actually worse than Mitt. It's like choosing between Darth Vader and the Emperor in Star Wars in a horrible game of Spin-the-Bottle. They both suck.

I find myself becoming physically ill at the sound of their smarmy, smug voices on NPR, which is has become unlisten-able. All Things Considered is NPR's worst show and yet they constantly replay it on LA's NPR affiliate. Why can't they replay my friend Terry Gross? Or Unfiction? The hypocrisy of Newt and Mitt is bile-inducing and I wish them both unwellness, shirking hippie-buddhist mantras of lovely-peaceful thoughts for all beings.

On a joyous note, this week The Ukulad and I celebrate 4 years of womance. We are seniors, if our relationship was high school!

Love The Ukulady
ps: What is Miley Cyrus doing on the Bob Dylan tribute album? Really people.
pps: Buying a 6 pack of underwear is ridiculous.

Mississippi!

Dear Blob,
A few years ago, while driving from Columbus, Georgia to Los Angeles, Ca, via Austin, Tx, we took a detour through Mississippi, questing for the Best Pie in the South. According the Interweb a caramel banana pie eaten at Mammy's Cupboard in Natchez, Mississippi, was the best.

We made a 100 mile detour to Mammy's Cupboard, which is located in a giant Mammy-shaped building, which was a bit troubling, yet charmingly kitschtastic, to this NorCal HippiHeeb. Unfortunately, being a Norcal HeebHippie, it didn't even occur to me to check Mammy's schedule. We arrived on a Sunday, quiveringly excited for caramel banana pie! To our utter disappointment, Mammy's was closed, it being Sunday. Bible-Belt Living Magazine forgot to mention that part.

We comforted our pie-less selves with a trip to the Folkart Grocerystore Church in Vicksburg, created by Herman and Margaret, a couple in their '90's, whom we found sitting on their porch of the Grocerystore Church. Still pieless, we drove over the Mississippi river and invented a speed-spelling game called Mississippi.

Game rules are simple: participants go back and forth spelling M.i.s.s.i.s.s.i.p.p.i as fast as they can. Whoever messes up first is the loser. The Winner is the Best and Fastest Speller in the World!

After wearing ourselves out spelling, I wrote this song.

Mississippi The Ukulady

Love The Ukulady
ps: I'm really into Soundcloud right now! You can hear The Ukulady's latest music at www.Soundcloud.com/TheUkulady

UkuAdventures in LA: The Crop Circle of Car Stories!

Dear Blob,
This weekend brought the Crop Circle of Car Stories! Due to a morning band photo-shoot, The Ukulad and I, dressed in our matching chicken 'n' egg outfits at 10:30am on Sunday, were outside, when the Lad noticed some schmuck had parked in the driveway belonging to our house; then he realized the car was his!

In the middle of the night his car, in park and with the parking brake on, had been pushed roughly 10 feet forward. No locks had been tampered with, the back bumper was undamaged and there were skid marks 10 feet, indicating the wheels had been pushed. It was the weirdest thing. Either a fleet of linebackers were playing a prank, a huge truck pushed the car in hopes the driveway-owners would tow it, or a mythical giant pushed it for fun.

We are mystified, disturbed & concerned. But not too much; we are mostly thrilled around here, beautifying our yard, planting basil, arugula & weeding constantly-overgrowing morning-glories.

In other news, I love Home Depot because it is so full of Potential: Make a New kitchen! Plant a pretty garden! Build a house! Home Depot shoppers appear so empowered and confident, comparing drills & purchasing do-it-yourself items.

Sunday is totally Couples-Day at Home Depot but every other day is a great day for single ladies to meet men. Forget bars! Home Depot or Guitar Center are the best places to meet fellows. Home Depot is better than Guitar Center, which is full of pale, slacker musicians, where as Home Depot men are go-getters and will fix things around your future house. I'm going to suggest it to my single friends.

Love The Ukulady

ps: If any readers have theories about the Crop-Circle Car story, please share!

pps: The matching Chicken ''n Egg outfits were found at a Salvation Army in Roswell, New Mexico, over 10 years ago. I held on to the outfit, waiting to find a manpanion to fit the shirt. Ukulad fits the shirt and wears it!

ppps: It's so pioneerishly-satisfying to spend the weekend gardening, home-beautifying & cooking handmade cornmeal-crust pizza with handmade sauce from garden-picked tomatoes 'n' basil. Pizza dough is not difficult to make and kneading dough is a pleasing mini-fitness workout.

pppps: The time has come in America, for Home Ec. to return; kids need to learn healthy cooking. This opinion comes after another marathon computer-tv session of watching Heavy, which is riveting & rewarding television. My initial dislike of Beverly Perfect, the health-trainer, is gone and now I wish I could go to South Carolina and work out with Beverly Perfect.

pppps: Read about my UkuAdventures in Echo Park here!

UkuAdventures in LA: Cuddle Therapy, Soba Noodles & Pioneers!

Dear Blob,
Since detoxing in Mexico from the American Media, particularly The News, I find myself much more relaxed and less angry. I'm a Naturally Happy person, often startled to realize I've been whistling unconsciously in line at Trader Joes or giggling in yoga class during Hanuman, also known as The Spilts. However, nothing makes me not whistle like Hypocrisy in Religion and Politics.

It's certainly important to be aware of what our government is spending the non-rich's money on, but at this juncture it's pointless to listen to NPR's political updates. Washington politics is like Junior High; Politicians are the puppets of the Corporations, like JV Cheerleaders are Varsity's puppets; the American public is the helpless student body and I'm in the nerdy theater-debate AV club. I'm over it.

The only good thing about the News are tidbit gems like this one: Cuddle Therapy for Gay Men by "Formerly-Gay" Men. Ha - Gay men being cuddled to Straight by Closeted-Gay Men. It costs a shocking $650! As the article says, toddle on down to your nearest bathhouse, in the UkuHousehold, that's 1/2 block away at Roman Holiday, and enjoy Cuddle Therapy for much cheaper.

I yearn for a world where people mind their own business and celebrate fellow humans for just being alive and surviving the constant challenges of life. Humans today are so concerned with celebrity cooters, how much sex and what kind of sex other people are having; if half of that energy went towards saying Hi on the street or growing a kitchen-garden everyone would feel a lot better. It would affect the pharmaceutical companies and the religious empires, as their coffers would no doubt, dwindle, as human's natural joy increased. It seems like a no-brainer. It's obvious, yet humans can't seem to do it. No wonder Aliens have no interest in our planet. We are boringly unevolved.

In other news, I cooked a tasty Soba noodle dish tonight with Ahi tuna and Kale! I felt very mature and artisan. The Ukulad has a condition which disallows him to eat garlic, onion, tomato & peppers. It used to be challenging to cook onion/garlic-free, but his meepy adorability is worth giving up chocolate for. Shocking, but true. The Pioneers didn't even have chocolate! Or the Ukulad! (He has Chocolate, but the Pioneers didn't have him). This evening's Soba dish wore a moisture-outfit of lemon 'n' lime juice, accessible from our yard-trees, soy sauce, fresh ginger, sesame oil & the secret magic ingredient, sugar. It was delicious!

Love The Ukulady

ps: I will be bi-weekly blogging about the LA Neighborhoods of Echo Park 'n' Silverlake, focusing on snacks, stairwalks 'n' succulents. Tune in here!

pps: I am totally a celebrity-cooter-news-reader. Everytime I go to the drugstore I head right for trashy magazineland. It's important to know if Lindsey Lohan has been arrested this week or if Brittney is knocked up again yet.

ppps: In audition-waiting-rooms, though, I like to smugly pull out a Harpers or New Yorker.

UkuAdventures in LA: Jean-Slimming, The Eco-Beautiful & Baby Nirvana!

Dear Blob,
As a visit to the American South or Midwest is psychologically slimming, so is a pants-free-swimsuit-heavy journey, quietly shifting one's body perception to a mix of acceptance, realization that every woman, except most in LA, have cellulite/tummy-pouches and just not giving a meep anymore.

Yesterday I dressed in jeans for the first time in 5 weeks and my primary triumphant thought was: "My churro 'n' taco diet made me lose weight!" Then The Ukulady dashed my slimjoy to the Rocks of Comedy-Reality and told me he had stretched all my jeans in my absence to make me feel great upon my return. Then I realized I am not actually trimmer, I just haven't worn jeans in a long time and it's shocking-good news that are not snug after the all-churro diet.

I am very tan and the tan-narcissist who lives within my head asked The Ukulad to comment on it continuously for the next few weeks:

UKULADY: Lad, I want you to admiringly, tell me how tan I am throughout the day.

UKULAD: I'm not going to do that. If you want to hear it, I'll say it once and you can record it and play it whenever you want. I charge non-union voiceover rates.

What an awesome invention: The Virtual Audio-Gal or Manpanion! The size of a tiny pen/mp3 recorder, it comes with a bevy of complimentary phrases like, "You look adorable today!" or "Wow, you're popular!" or "I know you're going to Get That Job/Book That Series-Regular/Get Published in Harpers/New Yorker/Paris Review!"

In other news, Ukulad and I went to the Mar Vista Farmer's Market yesterday and it was a bit irritating to be thrust back into the culture of Eco-Beautiful people. The Eco-Beautiful are mixed with the Plastic-Surgery Enthusiasts, primarily older ladies with the always-repulsive Trout-Lips. I love the opportunity and potential LA provides, but navigating the stunningly-attractive narcissists, clueless & power-hungry is ridiculous. It's kind of like living in on Planet Unicorn.

LA's Eco-Beautiful are so obsessed with their pets that the Farmer's Market has a dog-sitting service. It's ludicrous to take one's dog to the Farmer's Market, to pay someone else to watch it, while one shops for overpriced, organic, hybrid fruit. The treat-your-dog-like-a-baby phenomenon thrives like herpes here in Lalaland as most folks, like me, are shocking-to-the-Mexicans, childless until late 30's/early 40's, ambitiously toiling in the industry-bowels towards our childhood dreams.

A perfect segway to the Children of the Farmer's Market Eco-Beautiful; the American-Child Tantrum was in full display at yesterday's market. There's an Eco-Beautiful-Parenting trend of Reasoning-with-Children:

EXAMPLE:
(Child Flipping out)
MOM: (softly, soothing) Brooklyn, is that behavior a good choice?
(Brooklyn screams louder)
MOM: Brooklyn, I can't understand you when you scream; choose your words. Consider another option.
(Brooklyn flings herself on the Farmer's Market ground and screams louder. Mom, cellulite-free, clad in pricey yoga-ensemble, sighs and shrugs towards her identical mom-friend)
MOM: I think she's allergic to soy.

The kids behavior is usually blamed on food allergies, light autism or ADD. I am adverse to Reasoning-with-Kids. They are instinctual beings with no control over their emotions; I know adults who don't understand what "Consider another option" even means. I saw a Mexican mom in Melaque do the old-fashioned ear-grip 'n' drag of a screaming child. It worked remarkably well and the kid shut up. Stick to the classics, Parents.

In other news, The Ukulad is adverse to eating BBQ in LA. There's a trend of Industry-Burnouts turning to artisan food-production, with delightful and overpriced snack-trucks & treateries everywhere, keeping the over-abundant pilates/yoga studios in business.

UKULAD: I don't want to eat fancy BBQ. I want my BBQ served to me in a cheap-paper-paddle-boat by a toothless person.

It's kind of like me and my snobbery about bagels & lox.

Love The Ukulady

ps: Baby-stores in LA are selling Baby Nirvana Onesies. Ridiculous.

The Mystery of the Missing Chicken

Dear Blob -
Ukulady & Lad are Chicken-Sitting 5 chickens. Our duties are simple: let the chickens out of the coop in the morning and tuck them in at night. Last night, at dusk, we ventured into the yard to perform our chicken-sitting duties and to our dismay, there were only 4 chickens nestled in the coop. Distraught, we searched high and low for the missing yellow chicken, but after much fruitless chicken-seeking, we had to admit our chicken-sitting failures. After using a flashlight to search the nooks and crannies of the coop, we sadly concluded Yellow Chicken had been stolen by a hawk or had vanishing-into-thin-air-abilities. Sadly, we locked the 4 chickens in their coop and over a delicious chicken dinner, discussed where the Yellow Chicken could have gone. Sounds like a classic case of the Chicken-Sitters eating the chicken, but our dinner was rotisserie, not Missing Yellow Chicken.

Upon waking this morning, Ukulad went to let the remaining 4 chickens out of the coop and found, in the coop, 5 chickens! Somehow Yellow Chicken re-appeared in the night and joined her fellow chickens! Yellow Chicken either possesses Powers of Invisibility and was always in the coop or it's a Magical Coop because we eyeball-scoured that coop and yard yesterday and Yellow Chicken was not there. This morning she was. The Mysterious Magical Chicken!

Ukulady & Lad's chicken-sitting reputations are restored!

Signing off from The House of the Mysterious Chickens!
Love The Ukulady

Kool-Aid Man returns!

Dear Blob,
After a many-year hiatus, joyfully, The Kool-Aid Man has returned to television! I've missed his buoyant enthusiasm and am pleased the Kool Aid media moguls have belatedly recognized Kool-Aid Man''s ageless appeal. However, the new Kool-Aid Man wears pants. Upon viewing the new Kool-Aid commercial, I knew something was wrong. I was to see Kool-Aid Man again; flashbacks to Saturday Morning cartoons in the '80's while crunching dense bowls of grape-nuts with honey, jog-shuffled through my head. But something felt off with this new Kool-Aid Man.

He is portrayed as gracious and generous, giving up his waiting-for-the-bus-seat to a pregnant lady, instilling positive ethics in the television viewers. But something was wrong. Then the Ukulady unicorn light went Meep! Kool-Aid Man does not wear pants! He's a pitcher of Kool-Aid.

Manpanion and I did important, scholarly research on the interweb and discovered, yes, the Old Kool-Aid Man does not wear pants. New Kool Aid Man looks stupid in pants.

Pants have 2 purposes: providing coverage for modesty and warmth. It doesn't seem to be cold in the bus-seat-commercial and Kool-Aid Man is not a real man with man-junk. Kool-Aid Man is a pitcher of Kool-Aid and be-panting him conjures creepy images of Kool-Aid Man junk.

I applaud the return of Kool-Aid Man, but for Meep's sake, keep him a pitcher of Kool-Aid. Take off his pants!
Love The Ukulady
ps: Poor Lindsey Lohan! Again!
pps: Ukulad did an interweb search for motivational music and Eye of the Tiger was the first song to pop into his uklad head. meep!

Undersea Robots & A Box Save the World!

Dear Blob -
Undersea Robots are trying to save Planet Earth & the Louisiana Seafood industry! The Big Pickle, as I've always called British Petroleum, is in a Huge Pickle, as their Gulf oil well spews thousands of gallons of oil a minute into prime Shrimping 'n' Swimming seas. Their solution: Undersea Robots wielding a Giant Box. Geometry Enthusiasts rejoice! The Square, beloved by mathematicians & children throughout the world, is finally seizing the limelight!

Our world has become a cartoon, complete with drama-queen dictators sporting clownish spectacles, like Kim Jong Il, receiving secret stem-cell skin injections to remain firm 'n' fresh; (My doctor pal works for a Korean Stem-Cell Firmery, who recently injected a Top-Secret client in South Korea, who wore a sack over his head the entire time to remain anonymous and was flanked by a fleet of limos & secret North Korean agents).

The time has come for The Ukulad and I, weary of political stupidity and hypocrisy, to begin a political party. We hereby announce the formation of The Austin Pea Party. Our Platform is Peas. We also celebrate the Square.

Love The Ukulady
ps: Where is Lindsey Lohan lately? I miss her missteps.

Ukulady & Lad in New York Times!

Dear Blob!
Check out The Ukulady & The Ukulad at the Doo-Nanny in Alabama, in the New York Times!


http://www.nytimes.com/slideshow/2010/04/07/garden/20100408-doonanny-slideshow_13.html

To The Downfall of Evil!

Love The Ukulady