file under creepy/unnecessary.

http://www.babytoupee.com/newsite/index.htm

what are these? who the hell comes up with this stuff?

and why why WHY would anyone want their infant to have hair like donald trump or lil' kim?

waiting for dexter.

i'm not an astrology nut - when i was 12 i was "dumped" on what Teen Magazine had deemed my "lucky love day" for the month, and i gave up on the zodiac predictions right then and there - but i do believe in the traits attributed to each sign. i'm a pisces, which is symbolized by two fish swimming in the opposite direction. so along with my love of water, my life is often categorized by opposites and contradictions.

one of the major ones is that i get scared very, VERY, easily -- as a 9-year-old i was almost too afraid to go into the haunted house in disney world. i can't watch scary movies. i can't even look at the covers of the cases of horror movies at the video store lest i get nightmares from the pictures. the second the lights go off i assume something is going to come out of my closet and attack me. i'm horrible at staying home by myself. i have a super-active imagination, and the moment something minorly macabre pops into my brain, it manifests itself into a horror flick with me as its panic-stricken star. its actually pathetic. -- yet i have a huge fascination with serial killers.

i always have. its ridiculous that i can be so curious about the most disturbing members of society when i'm too afraid to watch something like "the lost boys" by myself. you know what one of my top fears is? it's not getting hit by a bus. it's not flying. it's not heights. it's getting eaten alive by rats. clearly i've spent too much time reading and watching the actions of the demented murdering set.

so suffice to say, i'm super-excited for the new series Dexter, which starts this sunday on showtime. i hope its not all gore and torture, and that they actually delve into his mind and motivations and all, but i have faith in the channel for a decent plot line. although i imagine this means i won't be getting much sleep for the next few months.

well, it starts out lovely...

the good:
rumour has it that mcdonald's is going to start serving breakfast all day long. FINALLY!! i can't even count the number of times that loveandcyanide has woken up at 11:01am on a weekend morning, hungover as all hell, wanting, craving, needing for survival, some mickey d's breakfast, knowing that we were a bit too late. 11 was entirely too early to end breakfast - for the elderly its not, but c'mon, mcgriddles weren't made with your grandma in mind. i'm glad the hamburgler and crew are coming to their senses.

the bad:
i've decided that i'm no longer going to be friendly towards the surly cashiers at our local c-town. i always go out of my way to say "thanks! have a good night" when handed my receipt, and it never fails that the sullen teen cashier just stares me down as though i insulted her diamond nameplate.

the ugly:
we suddenly realized this evening that we don't know what guys wear when they go tanning** (a scene from MTV's "Made" prompted this, but we're from staten island, so a conversation like this is to be expected) - completely clueless, never even pondered it before. so we took an impromptu poll of a few males we know, and learned that they either go naked, or with a sock covering their important bits. a sock in the tanning bed. does that thin layer of cotton really offer much protection? can a penis really get tanned anyways? what about tan lines? my mind is reeling. and i don't know what baffles me more - this whole sock factor, or that we were able to take such a poll in less than 4 minutes.

**note: only 1/2 of loveandcyanide condones fake tanning by males. it's not me.**

Fall like a drag queen day.

although tuesday was talk like a pirate day, that did not satisfy my childlike need for random celebrations and i took it upon myself to create my own holiday this friday.

armed with the prerequisite 3inch green lizard platforms i embarked on my private party to honor my personal favorite gender group, the queens.

after one failed attempt at a drag-esque heel flop (caught by unsuspecting, uncelebratory boyfriend) i regrouped and found the PERFECT opportunity.

a nice flop on the sidewalk, 2am, in Queens(natch*), while carrying a tray of McD's drinks, which in fact i did not spill, even as i hit the ground with all the weight and grace of a man in a one-piece (madonna) jumpsuit and platform heels.

thank you.

weekend realizations.

saturdays are apparently a very popular day at the local stop & shop. there was a wait for a shopping cart. seriously. have you ever been to a supermarket where a plastic/metal cart wasn't waiting in a neat row at your disposal? well today it was a few minute wait just to be able to wheel your groceries around. the impatient ladies we are, we grabbed a couple of baskets, and upon reaching the "international aisle", where we were snagging cans of black beans, we realized we were a tad too hasty in making our decision. i imagine my biceps will be protesting in the morning.

arrested development remains the best show (not! argh!) on television. having not watched our series dvd's in awhile, we forgot how much we loved/resembled the bluth family. after a short marathon this evening, we realized just how much we've been missing their unique/vaguely familiar dysfunctionality.

our family cat, tigger, is by far the favorite child. our father's parting line via instant messenger this afternoon: "i'll talk to you later. cat needs lunch."

anthony rapp (of rent and dazed & confused fame) is one of those creepy/annoying actors that you can never seem to escape.

we might have a (teensy) online shopping problem. we managed to spend missy's entire first paycheck this afternoon without ever leaving our beds. however, we'd like to point out that although we managed to purchase three pair of shoes within a 15 minute window, we also spent on a good chunk of the check on a birthday present for someone other than ourselves. such selflessness.

making the dentist proud.

having agonized all week long over which dental plan to opt for with my new insurance, and finally half-heartedly deciding on spending more money to stay with my old plan and dentist, i was quite pleased to have had a moment of divine intervention today that assured me i made the right decision.

as i was waiting on the subway platform, rocking out to some new tunes, i suddenly realized that someone was invading my 3 feet of personal space. i turned slightly to my left to see what the problem was and saw this relatively normal looking man, staring at me and apparently speaking to me. i took off my headphones (the things i wear to prevent people from speaking to me), and figuring he was asking me directions (seriously, i get stopped for directions about twice a day. something about me clearly screams "tourist information center".) asked him where he needed to go. he looked at me strangely and said "i said, can i give you a compliment?" so of course having never before been asked if i would allow a compliment - don't most men just shout them at you while you walk on by, whether you like them or not? - my brain didnt compute the sentence and i said "what?" and he repeated the question. so i said "um, sure. thanks" and he told me how attractive he thought i was. i smiled and thanked him and he then said "oh my god, and you have such great teeth."

my teeth elicited an oh my god. thank goodness i'm sticking with my dentist.

in need of noise-cancelling headphones.

so despite the rampant joy that talk like a pirate day inflicted on my life (and yours too, i hope), this week has been rather unlucky for us here in loveandcyanide land. missy almost had a 2-day job interview that included an all-expense paid trip to that fabulous land of glamour, L.A...almost. as per the usual, glitz and glory somehow morphed into chaos and the sudden dropping of a client from a recruiting service. we're still trying to comprehend it all.

i managed to start my new job this week without nearly as much turmoil - however, as luck would have it i found myself in the cube next to panic at the disco's biggest fan. now, from a previous arson-friendly posting you should know how we feel about this band, so its clear that i would rather have hannibal lecter as my cube-mate. and i can now assure our dear readers who had previously inquired about patd's full album that i indeed hate it, as i've listened to it the full way through a good four or five times by now. it finally hit me this afternoon that the lead singer sounds like he is whining for you to get out of the bathroom before he wets his pants. you know that voice? (sure i haven't heard it since the 3rd grade either, but some things just stick with you). i've actually gotten to the point where i am no longer hearing the song lyrics, just "pleaassseee i neeeedd to goooo nowwww" in the whingiest voice imaginable over and over and over again to the beat. its just that bad.

lest you think i'm exaggerating my situation with the panicky insanity, here is a daily tally of the times i've been subjected to that horrible popular song of theirs (this is not counting the other songs - just the one that makes my ears shrivel in distaste and evokes visions of tossing the fax machine at this girl's head computer):

monday: 2
tuesday: 3
wednesday: 5

i am somewhat afraid of what friday will bring.

it's my favorite day of the yarr!

happy talk like a pirate day!

http://talklikeapirate.com/piratehome.html

i should have sent you all these piratical wishes earlier in the day, but alas, the new job isn't allowing much time for daytime typing. those wretched landlubbers...

the mid-september hit list.

some of our latest obsessions:

scissor sisters' i don't feel like dancin'.
the sisters are one of our favorite bands and the first single from their latest cd (which hits stores i believe on the 26th...cannot wait) is just pure discolicious goodness. this is the sort of song that makes you want to turn cartwheels through a field of dancing tulips and shimmy around with animated puppies and kittens.

the mystery guest by gregoire bouillier.
i go through books the way tony soprano goes through bowls of ice cream, and this little gem is one of the recent best.

Snyder's hot buffalo wing pretzel pieces.
why didn't someone come up with these sooner? (or why didn't our local grocery stores start carrying them sooner..) crispy pretzel bites dusted in hot sauce. all the joy of a buffalo wing, without dealing with the bones. and now finally vegetarians can partake in the fun! in the snack food realm, these little guys are gods.


mmm.

dining out with loveandcyanide.

wasted and eating chinese food:

missy: this chicken tastes just like popcorn!
chrissy: actually, its beef.
missy: oh. hmm.

yea on the catwalk. on the catwalk yea.

a few firsts from the past few days:

first cat-warming. so you wonder what a cat-warming entails? (hee) a fair amount of alcohol, including a bottle of wine called "pink" that is in fact pink sparkling wine. a bunch of friends. and a new feline, who cares little about meeting the guests who are there to celebrate her, and instead attempts to climb up the fireplace in the living room.

first fashion show. fun times on saturday night with the fashion crowd, a hip-hop mogul, and a few tween stars. especially when, for the show's finale, models wielding fake machine guns shot blanks into the crowd, minorly injuring a few of the spectators in the front row. fake gun injuries, confetti AND an open redbull & vodka bar...it was almost too much excitement for me to handle.

first fruit-fly infestation. an aunt who doesn't eat a piece of fruit of day + a grandmother who buys fruits by the bushel = excess fruit in house = a feast for those pesky fruity flies. a swarm took up residence, harassing poor aunt all weekend. when said swarm decided to take a breather on the glass sliding doors, stealthy aunt saw an opportunity for retaliation. armed with ant spray, she wildly doused the glass doors, massacring the entire fly brigade at once. i only wish my insect-killing skills had come from this side of the family.

first time we saw ourselves on tv. well...not quite. but the scene in last night's episode of Weeds where Celia is screaming "be my friend!" at Nancy while pulling her hair is the closest anyone has ever come to capturing missy and i interacting. impressive.

vexations.

things that are perplexing me on this fine morning:

1. i heard on the radio earlier (Z100, natch. i think i'm actually enjoying the aural smut in the mornings at this point) that Kristin Cavallari will be the topic of this sunday's E! True Hollywood Story. WHY?? she hasn't even been on this earth for 20 years..how many fascinating feats could she have possibly accomplished? not that i've ever watched a whole episode of THS, but i believe in the olde days they used to focus on actual hollywood stars. upon further investigation i found out more information on the show - a. she will be sharing the episode with Mischa Barton , and b. and i quote "get the inside scoop about what it's like to lose one's virginity in the ninth grade and experiment with a lesbian." amazing! now it totally makes sense for kristin's story to be told to the world. i lost my virginity in the __th grade, i have no idea what it would've been like to have lost it in the ninth grade.

2. a client of mine who is located in virginia sent an email to us professional folk he deals with here in nyc, letting us know he survived Hurricane Ernesto. the valediction he used for this email? "love, david". i've never received a "love" in a work-related email before...do we think he'll be offended when my reply is ended with the slightly colder "best regards"?

3. children wheeling their bookbags. every school year i get all bent out of shape about this phenomenon, and this morning on my walk to the train as i passed by handfuls of kids with their bags-on-wheels i found myself becoming all shades of agitated. what the hell is a third grader carrying that he can't handle putting the sack on his back?? my generation handled backpacks (sure i was 17 and doing back exercises on my kitchen wall deemed necessary by a chiropractor who said my spine or whatever is back there was slightly leaning from always carrying a schoolbag on my left shoulder. but that was merely b/c only the 'losers' carried their bags with both straps whilst the cool kids casually flung it over one arm. as i am more mature now, i'm not advocating such schoolbag carelessness.) - these kids are going to grow up vastly weaker. plus those bags take up so much space. i wouldn't be surprised if they have to start expanding schoolyards just to accommodate all the students plus their luggage.

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note: this should have been posted yesterday morning, so now we have a number 4. blogger beta is a malfunctioning beast and refuses to work in my office. what gives?

Panic! Fire and the return of the lost sister..

If i saw Panic! At the Disco walking down the street i would dowse them in gasoline and light a match, then yell Panic! on the street.

Thus marks the miraculous and long awaited return of Missy to land of cyanide (minus love, at the moment).

bought a ticket for a runaway train.

this actually happened to me yesterday, but in my worrying over the possibility of domestic violence in the homes of Z100 morning zoo listeners, i was entirely too preoccupied and forgot the incident happened. so we'll pretend it happened this morning.

so i'm on the train to work this morning and i'm leaning against the door to the little conductor chamber in the corner of the car. unless there's open seating, i prefer that little corner over standing somewhere in the middle of the car as i'd rather slump against the wall unobtrusively than jockey with other passengers over where my hand should go on the overhead pole. just let me read in the corner, people, and i'll be a happy camper.

oftentimes when i'm in the little corner, i wonder if there is in fact a conductor behind the door i'm leaning on. i wonder about what he's doing in there (in my brain, train conductors are only men. specifically ones that look like ringo starr circa shining time station), perhaps smoking a pipe, adjusting his cap, or shining the brass train pin that is affixed to his lapel. and sometimes i think about how funny it would be if he was to open the door whilst i was leaning against the door and i were to fall into his booth.

of course today i did.

so i'm wrapped up in the latest issue of NY magazine and suddenly i hear a metallic clank and i find myself tipping backwards. thankfully the booth is only a foot wide, so between the slightly ajar door and the rather large WOMAN CONDUCTOR (dreams. shattered.) wedged in the doorway, i didnt have too far to fall. she of course said "whooaaaa" and sort of shoved me forward and out of her way. i scooted away from her, apologizing profusely, and she emerged from the booth and made her way into the next car, grumbling. i personally thought the grumbling was a little unnecessary. yes, i was blocking the exit from her booth and toppled back onto her. but better me than some smelly homeless man, right?

so in my last bit of MTA news - i do realize i talk a lot about the train. one would think its because the commute is the most exciting part of my day, and probably feel pity for me. please don't. my obsession with the train is a little less sad - dad collects Lionels. a love of of all things choo-choo is clearly in our blood. - the man exiting the train in front of me today was carrying a saw. a hand saw, i believe - it wasn't a power tool. now, although i've spent a fair amount of time in the ol' Home Depot, i'm no expert on tools and/or tool transportation. but i would at least assume that the blade should have some sort of protective cover over it shouldn't it? right. well, not this one. the guy was just swinging it at his side, blade gleaming in the flourescent light of the station. amazing that the NYPD hangs around stations checking for "suspicious packages", while this guy can just openly tote around an instrument of death.

why turn to NPR for thought-provoking radio.

we apologize for not updating yet this week. well, half of us does...the other half doesn't really have a good excuse although she's creative and charming enough that when she does decide to offer one up it will be so good and you will be so enchanted that it won't matter that she currently has you cast aside like a slightly moldy peach. anyways, my excuse is that its been a very busy/exciting week involving a new job and some irish nachos. i honestly can't tell you which I was more thrilled about.

so last week, sister dearest switched the radio station on my alarm clock from a station that was passable - classic rock, only one majorly annoying morning show host. the best adjective radio stations, at least the mainstream ones here in nyc, can get from me these days is 'passable' - to one that is pretty awful. squawky cohosts, cheesy music, ridiculous bits, bathroom humor. i actually feel my brain cells start to wilt when the radio clicks on in the morning.

so its a testament to my laziness that its a week later and i still have not moved the dial back to my old station. a major feature of the morning show are the prank call segments - they have a clever little name for them, which escapes me at the moment. now, i've never been a fan of the crank call thing. crank yankers was cool simply because of the puppet factor, but other than that i could care less about the jerky boys and the nonsense they let loose on the world.

but i have been absolutely fascinated by these morning calls the past week. the unsuspecting phone targets, who seem to always be men who are being set up by their wives, all have severe anger management issues. from the minute they start getting phone-f*cked with they scream and curse and threaten lives and you can hear the blood vessels violently popping in their foreheads. the man this morning was yelling so ferociously you actually couldn't decipher between his words - it just sounded like a bellowing roar of pissiness. ok, so it makes for compelling radio. and even if these guys are acting, i'm amazed at the rage they can pull off. but say these guys are for real - what i sit there and ponder is, why do these little jokester wives play pranks on husbands who have nasty tempers? if my husband was the sort to completely flip out when things go awry, the last thing i'd want to do was set him off with something as dumb as a radio prank. i guess they think it'll make for a memorable bit and all, but what of the repercussions? do other listeners spend their commute wondering if mrs. prankster gets a black eye after mr. angry hangs up the phone? i do.

all this for a bunch of snacks.

if you were to come to our neighborhood, and you were the sort that was into drugstores - pharmacies - you would be in hog heaven. on your walk from the trains you would pass two rite-aids, two eckerds, and a duane reade. since i hate playing favorites, i have some rules that dictate which store i'll stop into. if i'm purchasing items i wouldn't want any normal person to see me with, i opt for rite-aid. that place is a mess and filled with crackheads who don't care about any mildly embarassing purchases. if i'm in a rush and want to ensure that i will find what i'm looking for in stock and in its proper aisle, i hit up duane reade. for basically any other needs, i go to eckerd. i have a special place for eckerd in my heart. not only because its the most aesthetically pleasing and enjoyable to pronouce drugstore name, but because a few summers ago a bunch of my friends took a weekend trip down to the shore and for some reason we took a liking to the massive - massive. like jurassic park sized - eckerd near our motel and literally spent about 1/3 of the weekend inside of it, purchasing snacks, drink mixers, developing the photos we took only hours earlier, and practically getting our hungover asses tossed out. so for nostalgia's sake, eckerd it typically is.

unfortunately the eckerd by me is a hellhole. the blemish on the good wholesome eckerd name. and crazy things are always happening inside. yet i still insist on giving it my business.

so i stopped into eckerd this afternoon. missy and bear were home anxiously waiting for me, in desperate need of snacks, so i made a beeline for the food area. as i was debating over which brand of sour gummy worms to purchase, i kept on having to do a little we're-in-each-other's-way shuffle with this older man who was inspecting the candy bar selection. so i decide to move over to the fridges and to do so i have to go in a circle around a shelving unit of cookies to get there. as i make my way round, the man is coming around the other way and i'm again in his way. so i sort of take a few steps backwards, snickering to myself. i suppose this made it look like i was trying to follow him, as then he about-faced and sort of came around in a circle behind me. i circled to move away, he followed again, and thus there we were doing this bizarre little dance around the maypole that was a cookie display.

after 2 rotations i realized i had to get away, and ran off to the fridges further down the aisle. he blessfully got the hint. so i got missy's diet pepsi's, and got on the entirely too long line. the woman in front of me was bickering with her daughter in another language, so i sort of spaced out and stared off at the Whitman's chocolate display. angry mother moved away from her daughter, and leaned into the display. within 30 seconds, the brightly-colored-yet-obviously-shabbily-constructed cardboard shelf she was leaning on collapsed, causing the woman to fall into the display and multiple boxes of chocolates to tumble off the shelf.

no longer angry, embarassed daughter helped mother put the boxes of whitman's back, while my eyes teared with laughter. little did i know more fun was in store during my wait to pay. now, part of the reason i think this eckerd is so insane is because its registers are poorly situated. so we were all lined up, awkwardly, along this one bank of registers. there was another shorter line at the other bank of registers, but as you had to walk around a few aisles to get there, we all just stayed put. mildly frustrating situation for the less patient. so a woman comes up behind me and inquires if this was the line, and a man a few people in front of me turns around and suggests she go around and over to the shorter line. suddenly, mother shouts "why are you saying that!" to the man. the man loudly retorts, and mother starts pointing and yelling in broken english about how he is wrong. and stupid. man yells back, mother continues shouting, frazzled manager emerges from behind register and asks everyone to please calm down or they'd have to leave. mind you, this is the SECOND yelling match i've been privy to while waiting on line at eckerd. if there are fisticuffs next time i'm in there, i'm giving up on all the other drugstores altogether.

the thursday morning mountain lion report.

I’m starting to think we should have named this blog “animal news”…what can I say, it interests me more than warfare. so the latest. did we all hear about the mountain lion who invaded a home in Colorado? crazy. He just burst through the screen door and into some guy’s house. Now, as strange as that sounds, the oddest part of the whole story is that he stayed inside the house for an hour, whilst the owner and authorities waited outside. Not that I would necessarily want to barge into a house and tussle with a predatory cat, but what was the point of calling the authorities if they were just going to stand around outside, doing nothing. “gee, deputy dave, I wonder what that lion is up to inside?”

Which brings me to the most exciting part of the story – what was the mountain lion doing inside for a whole hour? we’ll never know, but i bet he was lounging in a recliner, paws up, watching Animal Planet.

hip hip...

there are many reasons why i like canada. the european flair. toonies and loonies. a greater appreciation of hockey. eugene levy. fun province names like quebec and saskatchewan. moose. canadian bacon.

today i found a new one, one so wonderful it would possibly make me contemplate moving up north, except for the fact that i've experienced montreal in the winter and totally can't handle it. i've been on a banking research kick lately as i think i finally have to end my relationship with Chase. its been a pretty solid one now for many years, but lately i'm starting to feel taken advantage of. and i realized i'm still with Chase just for the convenience factor, and that's really a poor reason to stay with someone, isn't it? but i digress. while bank perusing for greener (heh) pastures, i somehow went a bit off-course - typical - and wound up coming across President's Choice Financial, a canadian banking company. so what makes them so wonderful, you ask? this:

a hippo bank! i love hippos and even have a hippo bank myself (not courtesy of Chase), so i was quite thrilled to see such love for our potato-shaped, water-dwelling friend. he even looks like he was plucked off a hungry hungry hippos gameboard, which obviously was one of my most favorite games EVER. so this little hippo bank was all over their website, and i couldn't find any logical explanation as to why they want the hippo representing them - a moose or a beaver i could have understood, but not this sub-saharan beast. do canadians just really love hippos? well, then i love the country even more! it's so unfortunate that the nearest President's Choice is a few hundred miles from my apartment, or else my banking switch would be infinitely easier.

the adventures of loveandcyanide and the angry ravioli: an eventful thursday night.

for some reason we haven't been causing as many hijinks as usual lately. thankfully last night changed all that and we're back to our old ridiculous ways. it all started, i assume, when i graffiti-ed in the supermarket. now just calm down. i didn't cover the Keebler display with spray paint. i merely saw a sign on a freezer case:

Angy Ravioli
.99

of course i thought it said "angry ravioli" and i was so excited by the idea of these pissy little cheese circles i almost knocked missy down as she was checking out some new brand of pita chips. when we realized the ravioli were not actually angry, i took out my trusty pen and added the R in. now they are! not the worst thing i've ever done, but we believe it set off the chain of calamitous events that followed.

we squeezed all the fun possible out of ShopRite for the evening, and were off to Dunkin Donuts. it has a drive-thru, and we never turn down the option of drive-thru, so there we were hanging out the car window figuring out what we wanted. as i begin to order, i realize my mouth felt wet. why? of course my lip has split and blood is gushing out of it. while ordering my father his sundae i frantically turn to missy and do the international sign for please-give-me-a-napkin-because-my-face-is-bleeding and she sort of stares at me in disgust and passes one over. so we order and start to bring the car around towards the window and we realize i'm still gushing blood and can't possibly face a dunkin donuts worker looking like this. it was nighttime and i assume he would have assumed i was a vampire with a hankering for a strawberry frosted donut and i'm certain working the night shift like he does he's seen a lot worse, but still. so i put the car in park, and we run out and switch places.

further embarassment averted, we drive back to my parents house, where they stare in shame and something akin to fright that their eldest can be such a bloody mess. thankfully my hemorrhaging soon ceased and we busied ourselves soaking fruit in jugs of wine, prepping for the sangria we will be serving at a party tomorrow. afterwards we settle ourselves in with the excess wine and breakfast on pluto -- an excellent movie, but unfortunately it has squelched my love for cillian murphy. i can't possibly still have a crush on a guy who looks better in a dress than i do. movie ends, we go to bed. right. easy. no. instead, as missy carries the supposedly empty glasses into the kitchen, she somehow lets go of one and sangria is flung into three different rooms. she used to play softball so we know she has a good arm, but the distance this sangria flew was actually amazing. it made it around corners, in crevices. it was dripping off of surfaces we didn't know existed. laughing hysterically at the mess we'd made, we deliriously cleaned up the wine - poorly, as we were informed this morning - and took our hapless selves to bed. an eventful evening, indeed.

thoughts on today's top stories.

i haven't been completely following this planet debate that has been going on recently, but upon reading some articles this morning i can't help but wonder, is there really a need for more planets? nine seemed like a perfect number of them - twelve is entirely too many. how are children going to fit twelve foil balls into a shoebox for their solar system dioramas? plus there are already too many sets of twelve out there - eggs, numbers on the clock, days of christmas - let the planets have their own special number that they don't have to share with the less stellar.

taking off my scientific hat for a moment, never before have i seen my exact feelings on a muppet in print before. its rather refreshing. hopefully some anti-elmo revolution rises up because of this article. i tried to start one back in h.s. - to no avail - when bizarrely, 15-year-old girls started carrying their tickle-me-elmos to school. why were teens buying t.m.e's anyway? not for nostalgia reasons - elmo was barely featured on the show when we were kids. oh wait, it gets better. tickle me elmo was the mascot of our cheerleading team. i wish i was kidding, but there he was, red fur blowing in the breeze from the rattling of the pompoms.

finally, some sad news today - RIP Bruno Kirby. you made When Harry Met Sally a classic, and if we had the familial luck of having an uncle named lenny, we know he would have looked exactly like you.