Isn’t that thing freakin’ gorgeous? All the pictures I initially found were too little to show off the full glory of the KitchenAid Stand Mixer, so I continued searching until I came across this baby. (Remember, no amount of effort is too much if it means the satisfaction of the DOA readers.)

I think I’ve wanted one of these since I was 5, but once they came out with the different color ones…that ‘want’ quickly turned to ‘open lust.’ I’m convinced that the KitchenAid Stand Mixer is the only reason people really get married. That’s why the divorce rates are so high, once we get the mixer, why bother with the marriage. And honestly, marriage is the only way to get one of them, because frankly at like $349.99 a pop (phew…so glad we saved that extra penny) they are outrageously expensive. But, not so expensive that I don’t fully expect to get one (possibly two, I can’t decide between Empire Red and Blue Willow) when I get hitched.

Dear Sketchy Old Guy Standing Next to Me Waiting to Cross the Street,

I really wish there were a universal hand signal that could convey something like: “As we stand here, waiting for the light to change or the oncoming traffic to thin out so that we can cross the road, do not make the mistake of taking my glance in your direction as a sign of interest.

I am not interested. I am not checking you out. I do not have a special thing for balding, paunchy men three times my age in ill-fitting suits.

I am, in fact, looking at the oncoming traffic so I can avoid being hit by a truck as I cross the street.

So you should refrain from looking me up and down and giving me the eye.”

Sadly, no such hand signal exists. So I hope someday you - and all the sketchy old men like you - come across this blog post.

Also, you’re old enough to be my grandfather. Jesus.

Love,

Hildy.

The fact that my local video store is located in a basement that smells and feels like a giant armpit never ceases to get me into trouble. Yet this weekend’s travesty was by far the worst yet.

Picture me wandering briskly through the comedy section, looking to browse, select, and get back outside as quickly as possible. I pick up a movie called, what else, “Happiness.” The back-cover description goes something like this: “Joy, Trish, and Helen are the Jordan sisters from New Jersey. Joy is the non-achiever, Trish is married with three kids, and Helen is a successful author. Together they take us on a journey through suburban desperation as Joy looks for her path in life, Helen looks for meaning behind her work, and Helen discovers her husband’s secret obsession.”

Comedy, suburban desperation, a cast that includes Philip Seymour Hoffman–what more could you want, right?

Wrong. Video store, you failed me again.

Here’s how the back cover should have read:

“The lives of sisters Joy, Trish, and Helen are anything but happy.

Joy is treated like the black sheep of the family, but her only real crime is sleeping with one of her students at the adult ESL center she teaches at. Granted he did steal all her stuff, and then she voluntarily gave him $500 more anyway, but that’s not really so bad since the boyfriend she just dumped killed himself a couple days before.

Helen is an author grappling with the fact that even though she is able to write about rape and molestation very vividly, she’s never been raped herself. To overcome this middle class suburban repression, she starts phone stalking her neighbor–who creepily calls her to masturbate and describe his very violent and grotesque fantasites to her–and badgers him to come over and rape her. Meanwhile, he is being wooed by another neighbor who, she confesses recently murdered and chopped up one of the desk clerks of their apartment building (storing his parts in her freezer) after he raped her.

Trish, whose life seems the most perfect with a husband and two children, actually hides the darkest secrets. Turns out her perfect psychiatrist husband wants nothing more than to go around drugging the whole family when his son’s friends come over for sleepovers so that he can rape them.”

Needless to say, beware of the title. Even the label “dark comedy” doesn’t quite cut it with this one.

Desperately trying to find something to watch in TV Monday night, I caught the last 15 minutes of the Miss Universe Pageant, 2007.

Now, I think beauty pageants are terrible and horrible for all the reasons they are normally considered to be terrible and horrible, and one owned by Donald Trump and hosted by A.C. Slater is probably worse than most. However, if they are going to exist, why bother with the interview? It was just insulting….to everyone involved.

If you are going to do a whole contest to objectify women, what’s the point trying to placate people who hate pageants by attempting to do interviews with the objects (women) that you would clearly rather just look at than hear speak. (Did you get that?)

Anyway. The brain-trust ‘celebrity’ judging panel: Actor James Kyson Lee, model Lindsay Clubine, Dallas Cowboys quarterback Tony Romo, rocker Dave Navarro, Olympic figure skating champion Michelle Kwan, celebrity hairstylist Ken Paves, fashion designer Marc Bouwer, “Project Runway” judge and Elle magazine fashion director Nina Garcia and former Miss Universe Dayanara Torres were responsible for the questions.

As soon as they started the ‘interviews,’ I frantically tried to write them all down, while simultaneously laughing hysterically and crying on the inside. Here they are, in no particular order. (If I could remember/recognize who asked the question, I included it below.)

• Dave Navarro: Would you rather have a relationship with a man who is spontaneous and wild, or one who plays it safe? (I think he was looking for a post pageant hook-up)
• If you could have any superpower, what would it be, and why? (Is eating without gaining weight a superpower?)
• Nina Garcia: What is the one lesson you learned as a child, that still applies to your life today? (Tying my shoes? Riding a bike? Reading? Oh…that kind of lesson.)
• If you could go back and relive any moment in your life, which would it be, and why?
• Michele Kwan: Is it better to live life following your heart or your mind? (Mind? What mind?)

Sweet. So, for everyone reading this, take it upon yourselves to try and answer one or all of these tough questions. It’s obviously the true test of whether or not you too could be Miss Universe.

Also, I didn’t get to see Miss USA fall on her ass live, but it’s all over YouTube. I did hear her get booed pretty heavily during the ‘interview’. I just figured that the soccer game-like crowd was angry because they hated America, but it turns out they were just mad that despite the tumble, Miss USA made it to the Top 5, and not Miss Mexico.

Somehow I’ve gone through life without discovering Barbara Holland, so a special “thanks” to The Washington Post for their piece on her today. Holland, an author, is everything I want to be when I’m really really old: rather grizzled, extremely sarcastic, often drunk, and utterly unflappable.

The piece highlights her most recent book, The Joy of Drinking, a history of humanity’s romance with strong liquids. It is, a follow-up of sorts to her last book, dedicated to different vices, Endangered Pleasures, which exalted cigarettes, naps, bacon, swearing, loafing, and other pleasures.

She apparently misses the days where everyone was a little more merry, sociable, and apt to start randomly singing and dancing.

Love her. If she goes on a book tour, obviously I will hunt her down and shake her hand. If not, at least I found my summer/beach/vacation book reading.

For some more random bits from The Post: –>

True, Google is fast becoming the man, managing to take over everything in my life and yours and buying up everything for sale on the Internet.

But then once a week or so they break out the big guns (or computer servers, as the case may be) and remind you how they got so big in the first place.

Today that reminder comes from Street View. Further pushing the question of whether it’s creepy for people to be able to type in your address and see a picture of where you live, street view is a setting on google maps that lets you see, that’s right, a street by street view of San Francisco, Las Vegas, Denver, Miami, and New York City–with more sure to come.

How does it work? Just type in an address, or go to city and switch to the “street view.” You can travel all through the city, moving your little orange man around the streets, turning to look at a panoramic 360 degree view of every street you walk down.

Giving directions will never be the same again. Want to know where the closest bus stop is? Just put your little dude on the street corner and let him look around for you. Or tired of feeling creepy walking by your crush’s house every night? Well, no more. You can just have your little orange man walk back and forth all day from the comfort of your computer. Sigh.

LOL President — and the original Fark thread — give me much joy. Presidents talking in psychotic-cat-speak? Teddy Roosevelt-centric humor? References to “droppin’ Hamiltons” overlaying lithographs of the Burr-Hamilton duel? Count me in.

In the spirit of “less talking, more LOL President,” here are some choice bits of LOL President genius. Enjoy.

I realized we were being a little negative today. So, here’s a special shout-out to Memorial Day weekend. Hallelujah, the weekend is here. Three beautiful nice long summer days without offices and cubicles, and with lots of relaxation and sunshine and fun.

Have a good one…I know we will.

I recently met someone who had never heard of Ryan Seacrest (or Ryan Fucking Seacrest, as I can’t help but refer to him), and I found myself overcome with jealousy.

I have never watched a full episode of “American Idol” in my life, and yet I have not been able to escape knowledge and significant exposure to Ryan Fucking Seacrest and his shit-eating grin. And his hair. And his appallingly stupid “Seacrest - out!” sign-off. And his sad, failed attempts to convince everyone of his heterosexuality. And his bid to be our generation’s Dick Clark. (No fucking way, Ryan Fucking Seacrest.)

I suppose what it comes down to is that Ryan Fucking Seacrest is the biggest tool on the planet.

Worse yet, he’s an ambitious tool, seeking to rule over American pop culture and spread his poisonous, bland insipidness over the earth until all that which is awesome and worth living for cowers under his dark power to make thing suck. The man must be stopped.

Holy crap. I hate hummers. I mean, just look at that thing. It pretty much represents all that is bad about America. The over-indulgence, frivolity, wastefulness.

I agree with the people over at H2FU - Fuck You and Your H2 which is basically a site full of pictures of people giving the middle finger to hummers and the people driving them. It’s great.

I don’t really have anything funny to say about the hummer. They make me too angry to be witty. It’s like they make my eyes cloud over and I start seeing blood or something. If anyone ever blows up a Hummer plant…well..i mean…don’t look at me…but I’ll pat that person on the back, and donate to their defense fund.