you'll be ok. we promise.

don't cry kiddies, but loveandcyanide has to disappear for a week or so.

we're off for some fun in the sun, shenanigans with a flock of barbary apes, and (finally!) some actual high seas adventures. it's also bear's first time out of the country, and renegade that he is, he's doing it sans passport. wish us luck...

love don't live here anymore.

the second album i owned that didn't involve singing cartoon characters, christmas carols, or muppets was like a virgin. (thriller was my first) i was about 4 years old and totally played it out, wanting to grow up to be just like madonna. (i often wonder what number on the creepiness scale it was for my parents to watch their kindergartner endlessly shimmy around to lyrics like "touched for the very first time...")

so considering she was one of my earliest idols, it sort of pains me to say how much i dislike madonna today. while this change in attitude mainly reflects the inverse relationship between my age and my tolerance for pop music, i'm also over her chameleonic ways. i understand that musicians want to keep up with the changing times (actually, i don't. anyone who has ever witnessed bon jovi perform the song "bounce" at a concert would feel the same way. even with my thesaurus handy, i don't have enough words to convey just how painful that was. he should have kept the long ratty mane and stayed in our memory as part of the good ol 'hair band' days instead of highlighting the locks and pumping out psuedo-pop drivel to compete with the britney spears set. but i digress), but i can't take all the reinventing. actually, i can't keep up with all the reinventing is more like it.

according to reports, on her new tour madonna - or esther, madge, rabbi ciccone, whatever she's going by these days - does some sort of "disco crucifixion" thing (which actually sounds pretty cool. put disco in front of anything and it will sound like a barrel of fun. disco suicide. disco inferno. disco homicide. party!) where she hangs from a mirrored crucifix while wearing a crown of thorns. huh? i thought she was a poster child for kabbalah...don't jewish folk not believe in jesus?

!!!!!!

holy crap. there is a CARE BEARS MUSICAL coming to town and no one bothered to tell loveandcyanide about it yet?!?!?! i'm too shocked/excited/busy singing songs from Care Bears Movie II: A New Generation to type right now, so find more info here:

http://www.carebearslive.com/default.asp

fact of the day

i really don't know how i learned anything before i had access to the internet.

today i found this fascinating nugget of info about everyone's favorite self-dispensing candy, PEZ. enjoy.

Pez candy was invented by Austrian candy executive Eduard Haas in 1927. The original little candy bricks were peppermint. In fact, the word Pez is an abbreviation of the German word for peppermint.(PfeffErminZ)

and i'll be laughing with myself.

i have problems with hiding my laughter when i find something amusing. which i suppose is normal, but unfortunately a lot of things that amuse me just randomly pop up in my mind, thereby leaving me chuckling at (seemingly) nothing to the people around me, making me either look like a super happy sort of girl, or an utter psychopath. one time i was at a hockey game with the guy i was dating, and this man got up from his seat in the row in front of us, and i saw he left behind a mess of peanut shells scattered all over the floor. of course i immediately envisioned this as the chaos left from some giant squirrel posse and got the giggles. as i wouldn't tell my suitor what was so funny, he gently informed me that people might think i was crazy, sitting there just laughing hysterically to myself. and i agreed with him. what can i do? i can totally stifle a sneeze, but i just can't keep the laughs in.

i've found this flaw of mine is most problematic when i'm reading a funny book in public. granted people can see i must be reading something humorous, but there is still no need to carry on to the extent that i seem to. a few years back i had Bridget Jones' Diary with me while taking the bus in to work. whilst being completely wrapped up in hysterics and totally carrying on in my little seat, i was unaware that i was accidentally hitting into the "push for stop" strip on the bus wall next to me (fitting that i was in the handicap seat for that ride). in the midst of all my merriment, i finally became aware of all the chiming coming from the front of the bus, and i stopped and wondered what sort of asshole was dinging for a stop in the middle of a tunnel. of course a few moments later i realized i was the asshole, and i put the book away, so as to keep my mirth from allowing me to cause anymore nonsense.

never one to learn her lesson, i found myself on the train today with the most fantastically hilarious book that i've read in awhile: Apathy and Other Small Victories by Paul Neilan. as i'm a few years older (and presumably wiser) than the bridget jones bus incident, i tried to do everything i could to contain the laughter. but sadly this just resulted in odd snorts and hiccup-like movements which were most definitely scaring the guy next to me. he put a seat in between us the moment he had a chance to. i guess i really don't blame him, as i'm sure it appeared that i was either having a seizure, or diabolically chuckling about my plan for world domination.

so i know we tell you to do a lot of things (we're sorry. we just like having the idea of someone/thing to boss around, since we're both almost 100% resistant to each other's demands), and i'm certain after the above stories you may never take advice from me again, but pick up a copy of Apathy. it's a great time, even if it doesn't motivate you to cause a spectacle during rush hour.

nice job, pretentious sony marketing team.

i was going to let this one slide, as it annoyed me yesterday but then i was over it today (there's only so long you can stay cranky over the wording of an advertisement). but as all i've been seeing today are articles about the movie who's ads bother me so very much that i need to complain to the whole internet about it, i decided to speak up.

so. the davinci code comes out this weekend. as much as i like tom hanks and audrey tautou as actors, i won't be racing to the theaters for this one. why not? well, the book wasn't that great (i know, i just pissed off the 85 bazillion people who claim it's their fave book ever. my apologies.), and i hate when things are overhyped, and if i were to race to the theater near me, it wouldn't even be there. wait, what? that's right, it wouldn't be in a theater near me. and no, its not because i live in bumblefuck, AL - it's because it's going to be in cinemas.

opening in cinemas on May 19th, read the d's code subway ads. oh please. they couldn't say in theaters like everyone else?!

the ecto cooler effect.

I’m sure you’ve all experienced this at some point in life: you express delight at something, and suddenly you’re bombarded with it until you get so tired of it, you can’t stand the sight of it anymore. The person/people plying this product/whatever have nothing but good intentions towards you, but inevitably, there’s just too much of a good thing. one might call it “overkill”. loveandcyanide calls it “the ecto cooler effect”.

and no, this posting is not about our relationships. *smirk*

let's take a quick trip back to 1990, shall we. On the shelves of the supermarket sat Hi-C’s Ecto Cooler, a citrusy concoction that we immediately grew fond of. not to belittle the merits of the Hi-C corporation, but I’m certain this instantaneous love stemmed more from the fact that we adored all things Ghostbuster (I believe this was mentioned in passing before…but before we continue you must understand the magnitude of it. we loved the movies. we still do. we were avid watchers of the cartoon The Real Ghostbusters. Missy, amongst our care bears and barbies, even had an Egon action figure. and i’ll admit it – I had (ahem, have) a major thing for Bill Murray…which probably explains current issues of mine, as I doubt he’s the sort of man a 7-year-old girl is supposed to be attracted to.) than the fact that juice gave us our daily dosing of vitamin C. and I’m sure Ecto Cooler’s awesomely unnatural neon green hue also contributed to our lust.

So since we were spoiled and given just about anything we said we liked, it wasn’t long before Ecto Cooler became the official drink of our household. Seriously, our mother bought it by the caseload – which, now thinking about it, I don’t even know where or how she found it in bulk, as we were freshly suburban at this point in time and were not yet privy to places like Costco and BJ’s. but i do recall bringing Ecto Cooler to lunch with me EVERY DAY during 5th grade, and it being the juice box of choice for us during long car rides, or afternoons playing outside, or, well, just about anything. of course, after some time came the inevitable backlash, and at some point in 1991, when my heart was probably pumping Ecto Cooler instead of blood, I decided I had had enough. NO MORE ECTO COOLER, I whined and pleaded to my mother and the remaining cans and cases were removed, by forklift, from our basement.

In the years since, we’ve had numerous food products go the way of Ecto Cooler (which will forever be our code for “although I loved this 2 months ago, I’m now sick of this shit”), including:

• Linden's Butter Crunch cookies
• Planter's Cheez Balls
• Nerd Ropes
• Chex Mix (all varieties)
• Luna Bars
• Puffins Cereal (peanut butter flavor)

reading through that list kind of makes me question our eating habits, but i guess what can you expect from two little girls whose childhood was drowned in juice that looked like it leaked out of a highlighter?

if this post has whet your appetite for more ecto coolery goodness, go here: http://www.retrojunk.com/details_commercial/119/ to watch the commercial for it. unfortunately we're not yet savvy enough to just insert the video in here...such is the drawback to having a stuffed bear as your webmaster.

next stop: success

somehow i wound up on the NYU graduation train coming home this evening. i stepped into a seemingly normal car of the W and suddenly i was surrounded by all things violet. sashes, banners, plastic beads, statue-of-liberty foam crowns - you name it, NYU spent money making grad gear out of it.

so while i was sitting there trying to process the Barney vibe in the car, i saw something dart past my eye. of course, this being the subway and it being post-happy hour and my peripheral vision sucking like it does, i assumed some sort of flying roach had come my way and i immediately ducked. after a moment i turned to the side, and saw that my floating bug was nothing more than a bubble - yes, it turns out the grads were given purple bottles of bubbles (at a kindergarten graduation this may have been cute), and had started blowing them around the train. it was kind of pretty for about a nanosecond, but then you could tell that people were starting to get annoyed that spheres of soap were drifting into their shoes and newspapers. me being one of them, i shot the little rascals a dirty look, and then a dirtier one when i realized they were all dressed in jeans. these are the children of our future, and they can't even dress appropriately for college graduation???

**postscript: i checked out the website, and apparently tonight was precommencement. this means i was on the train with all the smarties who received prizes for academic and extracurricular achievement. even better. **

Overheard in Purdy Court.

Dear reader,

yes singular, we are still unsure if anyone besides our little georgia reads this. oh, and to you g, i'm typing in your font. it's a sentimental day.

anyway, i felt it might be most appropriate to give vous a soundbite of occurrences at purdy court in order to better understand us.

On eye protection:
m: do you wear those goggles to go tanning?
c: well, i use them to tie my hair back.

On procrastination:
c: you'll have made genghis khan a myspace page before you finally blog or do your paper.

On whores tainting otherwise date-worthy men:
n: she soiled the good meat, the prime rib.. now he's like a dirty water dog, contaminated meat stuffed into intestines.
(okay okay, n does not live here, but she should)

On super tall men sleeping in our beds:
one of us to the other who shall remain nameless: i'd have to sleep with my air conditioner on in may if i had a giant sleeping in my bed too.

On cheesy horrible 90's sitcoms:
c: WE DO NOT WATCH FRIENDSSSS!

On men that are masochistic enough to speak to m while at a bar:
c: he called you the 'snappy one.'
m: ooh i like that, call me snappy.
c: his friend called you "the one with the attitude."

On men stupid enough to talk art at a bar with m:
c: why did you scare that guy away?
m: he told me edvard munch was his best friend.

On David Blaine:
c: that DB show is finally over.
m: oohh, did he drown??

On having matching toshibas:
m: we have identical laptops. we're the doublemint twins.

On polar bears officially making the 2006 endangered species list:
c: did you hear? Bear's going extinct.

On our landlord:
m: i'd go to Peter's funeral!

On Phil Leotardo:
m: i just realized why i love him.
c: because he's eating zeppole?
m: because he looks like an owl.

On our 92 year old neighbor (to our landlord):
m: she leaves her door open a lot.
p: that's not the only thing she leaves open.

On dieting:
c: what are you doing in there?
m: smashing fat.

On Bear:
m: Bear isn't speaking to you.
c: Bear never speaks to me.
m: he speaks about you.

On dying hair:
m: i dyed my hair black to match my heart.

On Matthew Barney:
m: MB is gay??
c: no.
m: but he's with beck.
c: he's with BJORK.

On m's failed attempt at being compassionate:
c: i don't like this whole being nice thing, you're going about it all wrong.

On borrowing each other's purses:
m: there's garbage in that bag.
c: there's garbage in your soul.


and so, i leave you with this quote. not from us, but from a movie we love:

i don't give a shit about the barracudas, fuck it!


happy wednesday, g.

a fascinating discovery

no, i didn't find a new planet or a cure for aids, but this is almost as impressive. it occurred to me the other day that every female friend i have that was born in the month of May has a name that begins with the letter G. pretty amazing, huh? this seems like an especially rare happenstance since names that begin with G aren't all that popular to begin with (no offense. i mean, they aren't. unless people with G-names just avoid me for some reason, and that's why i don't know too many), so what are the odds that everyone i know would have their birthdays within a mere 31 day timeframe? if anyone else out there has this G-name/born in May situation in their life, do tell.

so while we're on the subject of may birthdays, we'd like to give a shout-out to our beloved cat, Tigger, who is celebrating her super sweet 16 this week. unfortunately MTV is refusing to cover it, which is rather surprising since she's totally spoiled and is daddy's little princess (she seriously is. we get so jealous.).

to whom it may concern.

dear mismatched denim wearer,

i'm sorry to take this out on you specifically, but this disturbing phenomenon has been causing severe pain to my eyes for years, and as the (and i shudder to call it this, but can't think of another term at the moment) trend's been out of control this season, i felt it was time to take immediate action.

i felt physically ill today when you walked past me in your sand-blasted jeans and indigo-rinse jacket.

how did you leave the house thinking it was a good idea to wear jeans and a jean jacket at the same time? were you hoping to confuse everyone into thinking that the two totally different shades of denim are the same? because thats JUST AS BAD! would you wear a pair of fur pants when you go out in a fur coat? if you're not on your way to an audition as an extra for CATS, then my guess is your answer is no. so why can't you apply this elementary logic to denim as well?

what baffles me even more is, and i do not at all mean to insult your income here, but if you can only afford one jacket (which is the only excuse i'll allow; then you have no choice but to wear it when you wear your jeans. and i therefore apologize, and you can rip up this letter and chalk it up to the fact that i'm a cranky woman who hasn't got her bacon fix in over a week), why would you pick a denim one? aren't they harder to come by than other types of jackets? think ahead, what if you have to attend an interview or a funeral? denim would be inappropriate. what if there's a spring shower, wouldn't you want to own something with a hood? right, you would. which would mean you would own more than one jacket, meaning you can wear your other one when your jeans are on. wear a hooded zip-up, a poncho, a paper bag - i promise you it'll look better when paired with your jeans. your denim jacket can be matched with so many other materials - from sweat pants to gypsy skirts to dress pants - it won't go to waste. so please, save it for another day.

thanks and bests,
chrissy

you spin me round.

we read a lot over here at loveandcyanide. shocking that we find the time with all the drinking and adventuring going on, but we do - and always have. as youngsters, our mother would take us on a bi-weekly pilgrimage to the library and we'd come home with stacks, and i mean stacks, of books. the whole backseat of the ol' t-bird would be full of them.

so since the early days when disco would read dr. seuss to us to just last night when i was attempting to finish a book for work, i've done a lot of reading in bed. but never in the twenty-something years i've spent tucked in with reading paraphernalia in hand did i ever imagine this would be necessary --

http://www.bedbooks.net/

are people just that lazy nowadays that they can't just rotate the book according to the position they are lying in? as much as i'm somewhat appalled by this, i'm also curious, so i may have to test one of these books out. we'll keep you posted.

you're damn right, Al.

quote of the day:

"Nobody realizes that some people expend tremendous energy merely to be normal."

-- Albert Camus, french existential writer

product review #1: beauty edition

even though its clearly stated over yonder ( <--- )that this is a chronicle of our 'adventures', even i get a little - just a little - tired of reading about myself sometimes. and although we're sure you're aware by now, dear readers, that you're not checking out our site for discourses on our current political climate (and if you are, you may find that our tales of falling pines, minstrels, and stuffed bears actually make more sense...), i'm sure even you need a little change of pace. variety is the spice of life. ("is it? i thought it was oregano. no wonder my life sucks." - found that quote in a comic in the NY Press years ago and have been waiting for a time to use it...)

that said, i figured i'd do a product review and clue you kids in to some phenomenal new goodies i've found. to enhance your lives and whatnot. i'm not one of those "product whore" girls - my face will never come off on your pillow - so for me to be swooning over beauty products means that they're pretty damn good.

so you know how sometimes you just smell so good that you want to make out with yourself? (no, i don't mean it in the Divinyls one-hit-wonder sense...if you don't know what i mean, then perhaps you should invest in some nicer smelling products. just saying.) well, Herbal Essence's Blackberry, Avocado, Mango conditioner is the sorta stuff that'll do that to ya. now, please don't think that i'm one of those woman who's fallen prey to HE's ridiculous "organic experience" campaign. as a matter of fact, i'm more inclined to NOT buy HE products, simply because they insist on making the women fake orgasm so loudly (please. there's never a need to be that loud, no matter how good he may be.) in their dumbass commercials.

so when you look at what HE has stacked against it in my book (i'm a big fan of boycotts), its really a testament to the power of their Blackberry, Avocado, Mango conditioner that i'm this much in love with it. as for the chemical components and whether or not its beneficial to my hair and/or would be good for yours, i really can't help ya (what a great critic i am) - i mean, i don't have split ends but that's just as much attributed to my wonderful haircutter as it is to the silkening agents in the conditioner. so what you want to buy this one for is the scent-sational showering experience. i swear missy may find me in the bathroom one day drinking it.

up next is the most fantastic thing to happen to lips since the invention of the kiss. now let me preface this review by saying - i AM a lip balm whore. i am. i admit it. i can't get enough. i'm addicted to it, and if a NY Chapter of BA (balm'ers anonymous) starts up, i need to join. i daresay this abusing of the balm stems from my fidgety nature, and i suppose re-applying lip gunk 100x a day keeps my hand free from more harmful hand-movement activities, like smoking, random inappropriate slapping, or sucking my thumb.

anyways. so i've tried them all: chapstick (eh), carmex (great, but non-aesthetically pleasing), kiehl's (superb), bigelow (minty-licious, but a little too tacky), etc etc. recently, a friend tipped me off to Benefit's lipscription, and i don't think i can ever turn back. lipscription is more than a mere stick of balm - its a lip experience. it comes in two-parts - one tube filled with lip exfoliator, the other with the silkiest balm ever. those little buffer beads will find dry patches you didn't even know you had, and the balm, even on its own, is fabulous. seriously, your lips won't know what hit them.

so there you have it. chrissy says run, don't walk, to the nearest drug store/makeup counter and purchase HE's blackberry, avocado, mango conditioner & benefit's lipscription. oh yea, and some mango body butter (my third obsession, but no need for a review, as those three words alone - mango. body. butter. - should do it for ya). your body will thank you. (see? and you thought we were only good for your mind and soul...)

all i wanted was a hug.

"go in your corner. and put on your pajamas."

sweet sisterly advice when one of us shows up home intoxicated and attempts to cuddle on the couch with the other.

A Tree Falls in Staten.

people always think that sissy and i make up stories. i do. a little bit. okay. a lot. but mostly just in my own head. sometimes i spread my internal rumours to bear. eventually the story will leak out to sissy who will then point out that said statement is totally false and i (and bear) are both delusional and lonely.

having said that, this story is totally true:

the other night while cheating on our aforementioned celebreality diet (with wine, natch. we don't cheat with food. liquid diet, folks) we received a phone call from Disco alerting us to the fact that our parents eighty year old pine tree ripped it's own roots out of cement and fell precariously next to our house, taking down a fence and resting in one of it's neighboring trees. granted this could have been a tragedy. but we're not in that shakespearean mode this week. so instead it's a constant source of amusement. how does an almost century old tree fall? how did our parents know it fell? well, Disco was outside bbq-ing (mmmm, meat) when he noticed that the tree was at a rather peculiar angle. always prepared, though never a boyscout, our father moved his car from the driveway just in case. about a half-hour later a noise was heard which our mother describes as "a large bucket of clothespins falling" (yes, seriously. imagine our lysol infused childhood please), our father compared to thunder, and two rando busy-bodies across the street identified as an earthquake (but they're from the house with the suburban drug problem). anyway after realizing that no laundry assistants were to be found, mother rushed to the dining room window to pull up her every perfect white and straight venetian blinds to experience the oh-so-chevy-chase scene of a giant pine tree pressed against the side of the house. the great thing about this story is that if the tree had fallen a few feet in any other direction it would have caused major havoc, but in the true style of our family, danger was narrowly avoided and hilarity ensued. the fun continued with an army of bewildered firemen and the discovery of a recently severed root on neighboring property (sabotage anyone?). all of this while sissy and i were confined to our couches in astoria. of course when we move out the island finally starts getting interesting. more when punishment is doled out to the offending neighbors.

m

being good is highly overrated.

going against everything we stand for, loveandcyanide decided to start up a diet this week. surprisingly, we've been incredibly good thus far - which is saying a lot, as this phase of the diet we've chosen involves only eating fruits and vegetables, and as much as we like rabbits, its way more fun to eat them than imitate them. except for the bunny hop, which, bizarrely, we used to do around the house a lot. a lot.

sadly, all this good-ness has brought nothing but tragedy to my Favorite Sensible Work Bag. earlier this week, the oatmeal packet i was toting around with me opened, unleashing its contents all around FSWB. a grainy mess, but at least i got a whiff of cinnamon whilst putting on my sunglasses. today, the tupperware holding salad did not open, but somehow magically leaked out oil & vinegar all over FSWB. of course i only noticed this once the oil stained my pants, so now both poor FSWB and i smell a bit like a salad bar. (a minor plus to this, as i like conducting little sociological experiments, i can test to see if i'm attracting more vegans than usual.)

so the moral of the story? sticking to a healthy diet is totally hazardous. sausage and egg on a bagel has never once caused any harm to any of my belongings. and if it did, as we all know, i'd rather smell like a sausage than a salad anyday. someone, please, go eat a bacon cheeseburger for us.

fyi

i was screamed at by a VH1 'celeb-reality' star today. its not nearly as glamorous as one would expect.

There's a wind-up man walking round and round...

Do you remember the movie Return to Oz? if you answered yes, skip down to paragraph 4. my bet is that the majority of you answered no, and i wouldn't be surprised as it seems like whenever sissy and i bring it up no one ever knows what we're talking about (with the exception of the Scissor Sisters, who actually wrote a song about the movie, which is reason #17 why we love the band so damn much!)

so RTO, as the title so nicely suggests, involves Dorothy's return to Oz where, of course, drama and hijinks ensue. as the wicked witch from the first movie (which, by the way, i never enjoyed. judy garland always bothered me, which is somewhat ironic as there's been a few instances lately where, when wasted and taking photos in a cab, i wind up coming out in the pics looking a lot like her daughter, liza minelli. which is scary, i know, and if there's anything that'll get me on the wagon, that'll be it...)is no longer around, the sequel is brimming with new villains, much scarier than the old witch in the crappy green face paint. evildoers so disturbing to children (well, children like us) that sissy and i have been scarred since our first viewing.

the main villain in RTO is Princess Mombi, who can take her head off and interchange it with one of the numerous women's heads she keeps locked up in see-through cabinets in a room in her palace. these heads are alive in the cabinets, and howl with scary banshee wails when Dorothy tries to steal one of them. (what? yea, there’s a talking chicken too…I swear it’s a good movie). although the mid-80's special effects could only make these disembodied heads look somewhat real, it always managed to freak us out.

so this morning i get on the local bus and actually get a seat - the elderly must have stayed home due to the rain - and as i'm leaning over struggling with my umbrella i look up and come face-to-face with a mannequin head. of course all i can think of is RTO and while i'm on a crowded bus, in the middle of daylight, and, as a rational human being, should know that this is not the removable head of an evil princess who doesn't exist, i can't help but get startled and jump in my seat.

turns out, there is no cause for alarm. the (inanimate. whew.) head is dangling from the hand of a girl whom i would assume to be some sort of hairdresser-in-training, as it is showing off a fancy set of cornrows. as I’ve now calmed down, I inspect the head (couldn’t she have put it in a bag?? a. it was raining, and b. the girl looked like a psycho, carrying this head around like a proud guillotine operator) and discover that it also has a nose piercing. Can mannequins come with body jewelry? Did this girl pierce the nose herself to make the head more hip? Did that mean the head was hollow, or was the stud just glued on? I was utterly amazed. Never did the thought of mannequin piercings ever cross my mind before.

Suffice to say, thanks to this creepy yet wonderfully unique experience on the Q101, I think I’m finally over one of my RTO fears. sometimes a disembodied mannequin’s head is just that. it won’t come alive and shriek at me, nor alert it’s headless master to my presence, causing it to chase me around a castle. next up, helping sissy conquer her fear of parking garages, stemming from the RTO villains, the wheelers.

because you desperately need to know more about this film -- http://imdb.com/title/tt0089908/

new and improved!

it only took a few months, but finally my digital media classes paid off and i was able to figure out how to get links on here. excitement abounds.

now its time to get some food shopping done, as our cupboards are bare. did you know shoprite sends emails? i just received one this week - must be because i'm such a loyal shopper. or else its just another perk of old age...