I'm Gonna Eat You Up I Love You So

There are moments in life where you feel small and insignificant. Friday night for me, was one of them. Trent and I went to see Ray Lamontagne, the folksy, sandpaper-voiced singer-songwriter who can break your heart, renew your love for your lover, and lift you off your seat within a few bars of any song. His three albums are enough to put a big lump in your throat, and seeing him live is as chilling. It makes you want to be good, if not great at something. This man sings for all the right reasons. Not to make money, not to gain fame, in fact he's practically a recluse, and says nothing but thank you during an entire set. He writes and sings from the inside out, he sings because he is meant to, and projects that through the emotion with which he uses his voice.

I already get soft going to the symphony, wishing I had taken up the violin at a young age, pursued music, and made something of myself. When I was in high school, my tenth grade history teacher told me I should become a DA, because no one could argue against me, and I was the best bullshitter he knew. So, I decided I'd stop screwing around in school, and become a lawyer. That's what I planned to do when I applied to college. Something went askew when I got rejected from my dream school, scored remarkably low on my AP exam in history (that I not only didn't study for, but decided on the day of the exam to take it), and ended up majoring in journalism that changed the course of all my childhood dreams. Damn you MARS class scheduling system at UMCP!

So, seeing Ray with the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra was a dose of both enjoyment and woe. I enjoy the show, but I start regretting that I don't see the BSO more often, or that Lyla doesn't listen to anything but Countdown Kids, Dora songs, and Poker Face.
I start feeling guilty before Lyla is even of the age to be cultured, that she's not cultured enough. I close my eyes and breathe deep with the satisfaction that Mozart, Brahms, Bach, and Handel bring to my ears, and the dissatisfaction I feel in myself for pursuing nothing important in life. I know how to do very little, I study nothing, I have little passion for anything I do, and I speak with no expertise on any subject.

All of the arts do this to me. I start thinking how we need to become more involved in the art community, support the symphony, go to the ballet, or sit on a board of something that supports something good. I also decide Lyla should become an artist, a musician, and a dancer respectively.

The Olympics has the same effect on me. Every sport I watch, I think, "Should we put Lyla in that starting at 3, so she can become passionate, and eventually be in the Olympics?" Then I think of those gross parents that have their two year olds in pageants and crap like that wearing lipstick singing Dixie Chicks songs, and I wake up. There are even a few people who have already talked about holding their sons back in kindergarten so they can be older to play football in high school. I won't be that parent.

Anyway...

This is all somewhat relevant, because Ray Lamontagne squashed his desire for music at a young age because of the passion his abusive father had for it. He only escaped his fate as a shoe factory worker when he heard the Stephen Stills song, "Treetop Flyer" wake him up for work one morning. He decided at that moment, to start his career as a singer, and worked as a carpenter on the side to earn money. The man knew what he was meant to do, and he dropped everything to do it. Now, he is not only making incredible music, he is touring the country and giving back much of the proceeds to The National Children’s Cancer Society. What a story.

I've really never taken a chance on anything [but love] in my whole life. Which, I guess paid off, because Trent and I really shouldn't have ended up together, since I was fighting against anything that resembled a boyfriend when Trent walked into my life. I moved to L.A., had nowhere to live, no job, got mugged, broke up with my sometimes boyfriend, and was falling asleep in my car and at my desk from the sleeping pills I was taking to treat these weird fevers I was getting fevers I got. Let's just say I needed to work on getting good old Jen pieced together, so I was a tad resistant to embarking on a long distance relationship with a guy who just broke up with a girl I knew, and knew everyone else we knew. Well, he told me in a letter to take a chance on "us" and I did, and well, after 10 years, you can see where taking chances more in life could help me. So, if I run away to join the circus this year, you read it here first.

I seriously digressed from the subject at hand here, which was the concert, but like I said, it's nights like that that make me wonder what we are all meant to do.

In the mean time, I should probably just continue with my shallow exploitation of celebrities, fashion, and the countless reality shows I TIVO each and every day.

Enjoy five of my favorite Ray Lamontagne songs won't you:
1. Trouble
2. Hold You in My Arms
3. Three More Days
4. Till the Sun Turns Black
5. You Are the Best Thing

As a bonus, I have embedded Ray's cover of Crazy, the pop hit by Gnarls Barkley.

Liam's Got a Clothing Line!

You have to give props to someone who is so confident he can walk with a dominating swagger, use the F word in every sentence, and punch someone on an airplane, and still be an International phenomenon. This man is Liam Gallagher, lead singer of one the greatest bands that ever was--Oasis. And yes, you stUUpid Americans (said in the Celine Dion accent), they do still make music. If you stopped clogging your head with the likes of Lady Ga Ga, Pink, and The Black Eyed Peas, you'd realize that there is still real band music that doesn't drone like The Fray, or suck like the newly popular, but always lame Kings of Leon. That's not alternative, it's spoon-fed garbage noise.

Since Oasis has apparently broken up for the thousandth time, Liam has focused on the launch of his clothing line 'Pretty Green' which is really just basics, but somehow, when he wears them, they seem so chic. Maybe it's the curled up upper sideburn and chop haircut, his ability to pull of a silk scarf (which maybe him and only Jude Law, Logan from Project Runway, or the Heath Ledger as the Joker can pull off), or his stamped British pop star face, or just the way he always manages to make a non-collar work. Not sure that the pieces will be sold stateside, but there is definitely a black sweater with Trent's name on it. Maybe Santa will find one, and ship it to the U. S. of A.


Anyway, check out the site, and perhaps find your own holiday find for the fashionable man in your life.

Rent Don't Buy

My newest obsession is Bag Borrow or Steal. This is the rental site which offers high-end handbags, jewelry, and accessories for rent by the week, month, or season.

I started with a Gucci handbag, moved on to a vintage Kenneth Jay Lane coral necklace, and am now carrying an LV tote, and sporting a vintage Dior cuff with my sweatpants, that's how much I love this bracelet.

Since, I can't justify paying $1800-4,000 for a purse, I've been renting some mid-range bags just for the H of it. Now, a girl truly can dream.

The bad thing is, my necklace (shown here) has received so many compliments since I started wearing/renting, it makes me want to by it very badly, and start my vintage jewelry collection.
So far, I have no pieces. A slow start yes, but I've always wanted to collect something, and since my vintage trophy idea isn't panning out very well, I might as well collect great pieces for myslef, and for Lyla to wear when she's older.
NOTE: This is also the reason I use to justify buying designer shoes and clothes. I keep saying I'll put them in my archives like the celebs do. Too bad my basement is already piled floor to ceiling with exersaucers, and other plastic monstrosities that will surely last beyond the apocalypse. There are also about 50 gallons of used/unused paint, a bunch of those dark brown soup crocks, games like Pictionary and Scattergories I also vow will be played, an exercise bike I begged Trent to buy me while I was pregnant that I've used five times because it hurts my butt, and about 50-60 bags and bins of baby clothes and linens down there. So, I don't know where my archive should be. Maybe I'll start to put it all up on the third floor with my extra antique chair purchases and the bathing suit bins I swear I will pull from when I lose 30 pounds. Hmm. More on that later.

So the coral necklace is available for purchase for $750. More than I've ever paid for any piece of jewelry by about $500. I just don't have any really nice jewelry (that I've bought myself). I would easily spend this in two visits to Target, BabyGap, or a local boutique, but for some reason, the whole amount seems higher than anything in the world. Why is that?

The Dior bracelet pictured here is not available for sale, THANK GOD. I am so in love with it. It looks great with everything, and makes me feel like old Hollywood. I feel like I should be wearing it in my navy blue and white dressing room with white leather chaises and mirror tables. That's how awesome this thing is.

I really like Louis Vuitton signature bags. Even though they've been copied, and every cheesy B celeb has one, and girls with fake french manicured nails sometimes also have them, I still love the clean look. So, whatevs, I rented it. I love a bag with a lot of room without my stuff getting lost in it. This bag is big, with two big outside pockets that don't swallow my phone or sunglasses.

The Gucci bag I rented (because this one was on a wait list) wasn't comfy on my arm, and everything got lost in it. The LV allows easy access to everything, and slips gracefully on and off my shoulders. I can also store Lyla stuff in there, which allows one less bag on outings.
The weird thing is, Fil who I work with said he didn't see me carrying a bag like that. Which struck me, considering he never knows what I'm talking about when I prance around the office in something new, he inevitably asks me how much it was, and I say something like, "I had to buy these Prada/Christian Louboutin/Jimmy Choo shoes, they were on sale for $400!" Not sure why I didn't probe him about why he doesn't see me with the bag. Maybe it's because he's seen girls wearing the LV bag and a Ravens jersey at the same time? That would be tragic, but so fitting here in Baltimore. They don't call it Charm City for nothing.
Then, I went to my cousin's baby shower last weekend, and my sister told my Mom she couldn't see me having that bag either (she didn't hear the Fil story either). Interesting. Maybe it's because I'm usually carrying some canvas recycling bag, and playing it off like it's a purse. Or, I'm carrying my Mom's sewing bag from the 70s made from two wood spools wrapped in brown and green printed fabric.
Whatever the reasons may be, people find this purse unsuitable for me.
Another great reason to rent I say. If no one likes it, I just send it back.

Maybe one day I will find the right purse for me, or I will invest in my first vintage jewel. For now, as the Stereophonics would say, "I'm just looking, I'm not buyin'"

Danger Laptop

Dell just announced the relase of their new Adamo XPS, which is half the width of the MacBook Air, and all the talk right now. Just when you think you're so slim-enter the Bergdorf Goodman addition. it adds twice the width to the laptop, and frankly look to me more like a weapon than a computer. It's all jagged chain link and snakey.
What were they thinking? Not only is it completely clunky, it's ugly. Right?

And is this the guy using it? He looks more like the guy that is trying to dress cool, but really lives in a smelly from old shoes walk-up and keeps his beater matrix in his parents driveway.

Actually, I think it might be David Caruso's promo shot from CSI: West Hollywood.

Do I Need This?

I have no idea why my comments are all caps. I checked the formatting and the HTML, and it is normal. I think it may have to do with the mark-up language I pasted in screwing with Blogger. POS application!

So, you will have to deal with me yelling the next two paragraphs.

Anyway, this is an excerpt from Calorie Lab.com, a site I use to calculate Weight Watchers points. I said to myself just the other night, that I'd give up almost anything to be thin (except food of course because I love it so much). When I found this article, I thought about whether I could endure it. After all, I've done the Stanley Burroughs Master Cleanse countless times, the heart surgery diet, the all fruit diet, Atkins, South Beach, and have been flirting with Blueprint.

The problem is, and this is the same with all of these diets, or gimmicks, you gain the weight right back. After I cleanse, I've lost 7-10 pounds, but the week after I return to solids, I'm back at my heavyweight status. Although, 30 pounds, could keep me thin long enough to try to develop better eating habits. Who's with me?

Tongue Patch: The hurts-too-much-to-eat weight-loss program

Notice to those supervising the Worst Weight-Loss Concept of the 21st Century competition: we may already have a winner.

We thought that our recent post satirizing commercial diet gimmicks took the concept to its extreme with Rubber Dining Utensils, the Hannibal Lecter Dining Mask, and so forth. But we failed to reckon with reality, in the form of the Chugay Tongue Patch, which is a piece of mesh about the size of a first-class stamp that is surgically attached to the patient’s tongue, thereby making eating not just awkward but downright painful.

Even worse, it probably hurts just to complain about it.

The Tongue Patch is the creation of Dr. Nikolas Chugay, the director of a cosmetic surgery clinic, who claims that patients affixed with Patches have lost up to 30 pounds in just one month. This may not be such a far-fetched claim, given that the Patch, which the patient wears for the entire month, essentially limits the Patchee to a liquid diet that is heavy on the “vitamins and nutrients” and presumably light on the calories.

The Patch has acquired a noticeable following in — surprise — the greater Los Angeles area, where no idea is too crackpot to gain at least some traction.

Naturally, Dr. Chugay’s device has its critics, who note that using physical discomfort to effect long-term behavior modification is ethically questionable, and sewing something onto someone’s tongue downright Medieval. Not to mention that after 30 days, the patient is back on solid food, and probably half mad with hunger. Lots of luck.