LOOK AT ME! LOOK AT ME!

I was flipping through channels the other day and I stumbled across the infamous WE show "Bridezillas". Now I will be the first to confess that I used to lurve "Bridezillas". Sure, part of me felt guilty about laughing at them, but come on - the show is called BRIDEZILLAS. It's not like they didn't know what they were getting into. But this episode was a real disappointment. The brides were all playing to the cameras, ramping up their bad behavior and bitchy bon mots. The question is: Why?

Which leads me to MTV's barf-tastic "My Super Sweet Sixteen". Again, do I watch? Guilty as charged. It's not so much that I care that these adolescent twits are spending oodles of daddy's money for one freaking day (see: "Bridezillas") but I just can't figure out why anyone would let their kid - or soon to be wife - go on a show like this. What is the appeal? Other reality shows I understand. If you manage to spin it just right, maybe you'll get a little dose 'o fame. (Hello Elizabeth Hasselbeck from "The View".) But the sole purpose of "Bridezillas" and "Super Sweet Sixteen" is to portray these people as horrible human beings. Where the win?

Seriously, Enquiring minds, peeps. Enquiring minds.

I can't believe I'm about to say what I'm about to say.

Paris Hilton is so... pretty.

Is the sky falling? Are there snowball fights in hell? If 23 days in the pokey means I'll come out looking like this, ship me off, Sheriff! The hair? Great! The clothes? Great! The fact that she's not doing that stupid little pose she does in every single fucking picture ever taken? GREAT! I don't ever think I've seen her smile, and good goddamn if it isn't gorgeous!

Man, I soooo wanted her to come out in that orange jumpsuit. There's got to be a pic of that floating around somewhere right?

This is what I do for fun.

I'm batching it for the next six weeks while Matt's away being a famous writer in San Diego. Perhaps it's due to our old schedules (he'd leave early, I'd get home late, really only see each other on weekends) but so far the separation hasn't been as traumatic as I thought.

For me.

The cats on the other hand...

Val, the big black one, seems to think that I have hidden daddy somewhere in our tiny one-bedroom apartment and if she just yells for him loud enough he'll come out. (Apparently hidden daddies find this particularly helpful around 3 a.m.) Tinkerbell, on the other hand, has gone into mourning and hasn't come out from under the bed since he left. (I did catch her tiptoeing toward the cat food bowl when I got home last night so I'm not too concerned.) Trying to explain daddy's absence to creatures who don't speak Engli-- scratch that. Trying to explain daddy's absence to creature who don't speak is a little trying. It involves an abundance of mime and awkward finger gestures but I still don't think they're getting it.

As much as I love having my man around, I'd be big fat fibber if I didn't say there were certain benefits...

Being able to stretch out over the entire bed, for one.

The ability to fart as loud as I want is also quite freeing.

Groceries are a hell of a lot cheaper when you're only buying for one person, which makes me feel less guilty about my weekly farmer's market tomato splurges. (I won't tell you how much those tomatoes cost me each week... Okay, I'll tell you. $10. For 5 tomatoes. The only other time I've spent that much on produce was last summer's $21 lettuce debacle. Matt would shit a brick if he knew I spent $10 a week on tomatoes, but like I said, he ain't here.)

'Scuse me while I go fart on his side of the bed. (Whatchu gonna do about it, sucka?!)

Thrilling (non-baby related) news!

Get ready, young readers: MATT JUST SOLD HIS FIRST BOOK! (Or, I should say, Kate sold Matt's book.) Ms. Buffy did some first-class wheeling and dealing and we are very pleased with the result: a two-book deal with Knopf! (With an option for a third!) Needless to say it could not have come at a better time (baby needs shoes). I'm already planning the photo op at Barnes and Noble. (Any NYC-ers have contacts at Books of Wonder? I'm gunning for a front window display.)

I see movie deals and the book tours, peeps! (Hey, if JK Rowling can make more money than the queen...)

Stuff like this freaks my shit.

How does an entire lake disappear?

Spent a lovely weekend with Matt's niece Amanda while she was in town. Looks like she might be moving to NYC sometime soon which excites me to no end. (FREE BABYSITTING!) Because I like to show visitors how exciting New York can be, we decided to take her out on the town. Or more specifically, we decided to take her around the corner to the AMC to see Knocked Up. (Don't say we didn't show you a good time, kid!) I was sort of thinking I'd wait until this was Netflixable since I usually require a little spectacle for my $11, but let me just say that this movie IS GENIUS. Genuine hilarity. True, someone in the theater may have burst into tears during the labor scene (I'm not saying that person was me) but c'mon, can you blame... that person? Labor? REALLY FUCKING SCARY. Think about it: the pain is supposed to be so intense women actually poop themselves. And they don't care.

I WILL NEVER NOT CARE ABOUT POOPING MYSELF!

That said, go see it. (You can also find some heeelarious deleted scenes on the YouTube.)

I Heart NY

One thing about NYC, it's fairly easy to be entertained. Just walking down the street you're apt to see something interesting. (Like an obese shirtless man getting his head shaved by a homeless guy in the middle of the sidewalk. Not that I'm saying I saw that... Actually, I did see that.)

YESTERDAY:

- At the playground I noticed a little kid standing next to a garbage can. He reached in (No...) pulled out a half-eaten sucker (no, no, no!) AND STARTED EATING IT (ohgodohgodohgod!)

- At that same playground, I also saw a dad pushing a stroller while riding a skateboard.

- And to top it all off, Orlando Bloom walked past me while I was picking up Thai food. He's supposedly buying a place right down the street from me. (FYI: Uber-skinny and weird, bushy hair.)

Seriously, going to Hell.

Okay, so Paris Hilton is back in prison after a week in the hospital where she was suffering from some undisclosed "condition" (according to those in the know, she's actually going through withdrawl from Xanax and Adderal). I guess these stories are being planted so that we feel sorry for her but when I read stuff like this, it simply fills me with glee.

"It's sad. It's like right out of the movies," Kathy Hilton said. "The glass partition, the orange jumpsuit. Everything."

I would pay good money to see that.

So the husband's up and leaving me for six weeks to go be a fancy writer in San Diego. He seems to have mixed feelings about it but alls I know is the dude gets to eat fresh sushi daily. He's staying on the UCSD campus and apparently their dining hall is hella better than the wilted-lettuce-and-watery-jello salad bar pickings I got in back in St. Louie. Along with the fresh sushi, they also have freshly made bread and desserts. What's there to feel mixed about?! (The man's going to come back so fat... Hey, we'll match!)

It's been another busy, busy week (hence the non-posting). Lots of late nights/early mornings, leaving me with very little that's exciting, unless you want to read about tomatoes at the farmer's market. (The tomatoes are totally in at the farmer's market!) Therefore I think it's time for another round of THINGS ALISHA LOVES!

- Did I mention the tomatoes at the farmer's market? Grab some mozzerella, some olive oil, pick a few leaves off your (now scary-big) basil plant and get to eating.

- Maybelline's Fabulash mascara
My life revolves around two things: the bathroom and my eye drops. This non-waterproof mascara doesn't run or flake and has nice, rich coverage. I've recommended it to several friends and they all rave. Highly recommend.

- Liz Lange Maternity at Target
I know, this belongs on another blog. The day I discovered that my pants no longer fit I ran screaming into the arms of Liz. I FULLY INTENDED TO RETURN EVERYTHING I ORDERED but the stuff, she is awesome. (FYI: Don't bother going to the store - rumor has it the selection is crap. Online is totally the way to go.)

- So You Think You Can Dance
OMG, so good.

- The peanut butter cups at Trader Joe's
Why the hell did I allow these into my life?

- The How Book: A Stadard Guide For The Home-Worker, The Business Man, and Mechanic
My aunt Sharon picked this book up at an "estate" (read: trailer) sale in backwoods Missouri a few years ago. Let me tell you, this thing is un-be-lievable. Published in 1913, not only does it offer stellar advice on How To Dress When Being Photographed and How To Be Agreeable When Visiting, but now I know How To Keep Butter Fresh In Summer, How To Do Business Under An Assumed Name, How To Tell Fortunes By Cards, and How To Treat Cholera. Invaluable stuff, peeps. (Bless you Sharon, for passing this on.)

I know I shouldn't laugh...

Yesterday I had my first official lettuce harvest! While this topic is about as interesting as, oh, a lettuce harvest, I was pretty psyched. Not only is the stuff growing like gangbusters (water, sun, and Miracle Grow. Who knew?) but it's edible too! See, now instead of taking the subway to Trader Joe's to buy my $4.00 bag of organic romaine, I can now walk twenty feet to my balcony and PICK MY OWN SALAD! My God, the immediate gratification! If only my garden made mashed potatoes and did my laundry!

I've been on a kick lately (as is my wont, these three-day-lasting kicks) and the more I read about the environmental impact of groceries, the more I want to stick local. There's a push in high quality restaurants to trade out bottled water in favor of (filtered) tap, and when you factor in the fact that (according to NPR) the water's usually produced in Italy, the glass bottle in China, the bottle in Indonesia, each flown in from their respective countries to a centralized shipping area where it's taken by boat to New York, then put on a van to the distributer, before finally being brought by truck to the restaurant in California...

Hell of a carbon footprint, that.

I'm not going to stand here and shout that I'll never buy olive oil again (well I might, but we all know I'd only last three days), but this whole lettuce thing has made me positively twitchy to have a garden. Being able to grow my own potatoes (the unlimited mashing potential!) or tomatoes sounds so damn nice! Granted, I'm not much of a farmer (I came close to buying a composting kit until I realized that I'd have to deal directly with the worms. I sort of assumed that they did their business and the compost was deposited into a tidy little box. Not so much...) and true, the "patio tomato plant" I bought last season (yes, they actually sell such things) was butchered by my balcony's aforementioned wind, but someday - SOMEDAY - I will have a place with a garden. And as God is my witness, I will never be hungry again! (You know, assuming anything actually grows.)

My God, is there anything this woman can't get away with?!

Just a quickie because I'm running out the door but word is, Paris Hilton was released from prison this morning after fulfilling a whole 3 days of her 23 day sentence.

Seriously, I need to get famous quick. Not only would I get tons of free stuff (stuff that I could totally afford, what with my newfound bags of money), but I could do all sorts of illegal shit! And if there's one thing we know about Ali, it's her love of illegal shit.

Time to face facts

Spent a lovely Saturday with a good friend in Brooklyn last weekend. It shames me how infrequently I "cross the pond", as it were. Truth be told, I'd never actually been to Williamsburg - which means nothing to those of you outside of NYC, I know. See, Williamsburg is this total hipster enclave, teeming with quirky shops selling $40 onesies and adorable handmade dresses. In other words, the kind of place that's right up Ali's alley. But Brooklyn always seems so foreign. Its streets have names instead of numbers which is very confusing to someone used Manhattan's grid system (I get lost easily). People in Brooklyn live in warehouses and make things like art. Professionally. The place is a little intimidating.

Here's the other thing about Brooklyn - its residents make you feel really, really old.

Friends, it's time to face the facts: I am no longer hip. There was a brief period in 2000 when I think maybe I was (I had leather pants) but walking around, seeing all the pretty little twenty-somethings with their nutritionist-meets-part-time-model hotness and ubiquitous lower back tats, it makes a gal feel a touch decrepit.

That said, it's worth a visit if only to check out CB I Hate Perfume. I, too, hate perfume (traditional perfume, at least) so this place was a relief. It was founded by the guy who created the Demeter line (the perfumes that smell like Mimosa and Gin Fizz) so the scents are definitely untraditional. I highly recommend reading his descriptions on the website. In addition to being a darn good perfumer, he's also a hell of a writer. (I think I almost like his descriptions better than his perfumes, but don't tell him that.)

FYI, if you've recently come into money and are looking for something for a newly pregnant redheaded friend, his Memory of Kindness is awfully delish. (Did I just say "awfully delish"? I am so not hip...)

Introducing FLABBYPANTS, the sister (or maybe brother) of our adorable LIES! ALL LIES! I'd go into a fascinating description about the creation of this little thing but I've been sitting here awhile and my butt is getting numb.

Hope you like!