obama us and tattoos

And so it's time to put down the bonbons and the wineglass, the crosswords and anacrostics and the mindless irresponsibility. It's time to pick up the mantle of honest work, of hope for the future, of--
WHAT THE HECK DO WE WANT TO DO THAT FOR?

Well, I don't know exactly, but September is just around the corner and you can't lie around in that spandex thing forever. I mean, well. ..

YEAH? WHAT? WHAT DO I KNOW? WHAT DO YOU KNOW?

Now don't get upset. You've had a fantastic summer.

WHO SAID I'M UPSET?

You went to Arkansas, remember?



YEAH, YEAH. I REMEMBER. THAT WAS A LONG TIME AGO.

Then you went to London. Wasn't that great?

OH, DEFINITELY.

Then you also went to New York, Pennsylvania, Cambridge, the Berkshires, Old Saybrook, Newport, Chicago and Champaign. Right?



WHAT IS YOUR POINT?


The point is you have to start back to work this week. You have to get with it. Get the oil changed. Have a purpose. When was your last haircut?

MY HAIR LOOKS GOOD LONG.

Your hair looks terrible. Come on now. Don't be that way.

I STILL HAVE THIS WEEKEND, THOUGH, DON'T I?

Well, yes, but
-

GOOD. GET LOST.
a bientot, dear reader. I'm hanging on to the last fingernail.

love,
becky
thanks to naute.com

Okay, I haven't exactly watched the event. So anything that has filtered down to me must be truly making news. Here is the USA women's gymnastics team from 1956.



They at least look like they are in high school, don't they? I can picture each one of them in bobby sox and a poodle skirt, taking driver's ed and worrying about the prom. Those brassieres were of the Double Pointy Rocket Ship variety and maybe Playtex Living. I am sure that coach wore sensible shoes at all times.

Here is the 2008 China women's gymnastics team.




If you're going to send them a congratulatory gift, you might want to consider a Little Kitty item or even a Barbie to give them something to aspire to, like breasts. Here is the American team they beat:


Our girls are tiny, but all look like regular users of eye makeup. I can picture them all with butterly tattoos peeking out of their low-riders.



This is Olga Kaniskana of Russia who won gold in the Women's 20km Walk. This is about 12.5 miles and she did it in one hour and 26 minutes. By my calculations, 12.5 miles is about 50 times around the track. That would take me, oh, about ten hours. Can that be right? I'll check today during my outing. I'm quite friendly with the groundskeeper and maybe he will time me if he doesn't have to eat lunch or do any work.

I don't even like to think about this. This is how you have to reach difficult items at Hannaford's sometimes. Would you call this getting a leg up?

I have had a wonderful summer, dear reader. I visited four states and plan on another one (Rhode Island) this Friday. I have actually completed one syllabus.

More later.

love,

becky

Here's a book that looks very absorbing, my one requirement in reading these days. It's written by Ellen Meister, featured author on the GCC tour. It is called The Smart One and is just out from HarperCollins. Here's a heads up:

Beverly Bloomrosen has always been the smart one, the middle sister sandwiched between Clare, the beautiful and popular older one, and Joey, the rebellious rock-star younger one. But she’s hit a bit of a slump lately. Now 35, she’s embarking on a new career as an elementary school teacher and not exactly living up to her family’s expectations (“Maybe she can work her way up and eventually teach high school. That wouldn’t be so bad,” her mother helpfully comments). Bev has moved back into her parents' home on Long Island while waiting to see if a job opportunity in Las Vegas materializes, seeing it as her chance to start afresh…but before she knows it, life back at home starts to get very interesting.

Kenny Waxman, Bev’s childhood neighbor—and the boy who almost became her high school boyfriend until she found him in bed with Joey—returns. Now a successful comedy writer in Los Angeles, he can still make her heart pound…and the attraction is still mutual.Things take a turn for the sinister when a pregnant woman’s body is found in an industrial drum buried in the Waxmans’ backyard. As Bev and her sisters begin to unravel some mysteries of the past, some secrets of the present are revealed: Bev learns that the perfect Clare may not be as perfect as her glamorous, well-coiffed suburban life may suggest, while rebellious Joey is still attempting to exorcise some of the demons that have haunted her for years. In the end, the curse of being the smart one may just turn out to be a blessing.


About the author: Ellen Meister grew up in the heartland of suburban Long Island. She spent her early career in advertising and marketing, and later worked as editor for a literary magazine and published numerous short stories. Her first novel was Secret Confessions of the Applewood PTA (Morrow/Avon, 2006). Meister lives in New York with her husband and three children. To find out more, visit her website at http://www.ellenmeister.com/.
Jane Green called the novel, "Wonderfully funny, irreverent and entirely unexpected. " Booklist dubbed it "the perfect beach read," and Library Journal described it as, "Character-driven ... fast-paced and features great dialog."
To buy THE SMART ONE, visit your local bookstore or click below:
Amazon.com
Barnes & Noble
BooksAMillion.com
Borders.com
BookSense
Powells.com
Target

love,b

I am also told that this is referred to as "coin slot." But don't go by me as I am out of it and don't know anything. This was snapped in Urbana, Illinois and where, may I ask, have all the beer joints gone? Everything is Starbucks now.



This is deeply troubling to me as it is the track at my local high school. I come here every day like a sap, hoping it will be open. Here's my question, dear reader: how am I a trespasser?

I am a resident, a taxpayer, and a patron, emphasis on the second of these. Only a month ago I wrote a huge check for the privilege of being all three. Young people of course hop the fence. I cannot. Oh, I probably could, but I don't feel like injuring myself, calling the police, and/or ruining my clothes. And why should I have to?

I have only begun to tap my annoyance. I won't say anger because it's not worth getting truly pissed off over (off over?). Anger is usually a big waste of everybody's time anyway.

Anyone buying this?
Two more weeks of The Dream.
A bientot
love,
becky

At the University of Illinois, the hottest chicks have always lived on the third floor of LAR. Also the ones who pull the most all-nighters and set off the most firecrackers in the stairwell.

Just back from a great weekend in Champaign, Illlinois, where I met up with these friends. Our academic achievements at the U of I have unfortunately been lost. They are buried in the Lincoln Avenue Residence side lawn, where we threw water balloons and incense and lowered the occasional friend out on sheets. Hey. We passed, okay? We played a lot of bridge.

Next to me is Judy, who does the world's best George Washington imitation and can now kick our respective asses in any athletic competition. Pass the chips. Next to her is Candy, a calm and serene individual who still attracts the guys and did so at the Champaign Rap Festival or whatever it was we walked through on Saturday night. In the yellow is Carol, who used to have a Christ-like body and still does.

That phrase is always used, whatever floats your boat. Well, these three recent evenings helped to float mine. Call me a gamut-runner.

First I saw Iolanthe, a Gilbert and Sullivan offering at the

College Light Opera in Falmouth, MA. I must be honest. It was not very good. The actors just kind of stood around in straight lines and though I know the lyrics are difficult to deliver, these were not as audible as one might like. [I couldn't hear it]. In their defense, G&S is a true challenge. Last year I saw Patience and LMAO, so that's why I gave this one a try. The kids were cute, though, and there were some amusing moments [damns with faint praise].

Next up was a rental.



The Dewey Cox Story with John C. Reilly. It is plain out hilarious, although it probably shows my juvenile taste more than anything else. Keep in mind I love Will Ferrell and not everyone does. There's a scene in the beginning of this movie where Dewey gets his start at a black night club, where the owner tells him, "my customers come here to dance erotically" and boy, do they. Five stars and a big LMAO.

I like following this with Waiting for Godot, which I saw in the Unicorn Theatre at the Berkshire Theatre Festival last weekend.




Keeping in mind that it's a stupid and pointless play, it was brilliantly done. I only use those words because if you start reading about it, there is such a defiance on the part of critics and dramaturges and the playwright not to read too much into it. My question may be the same as yours, dear reader. ARE YOU SERIOUS? Okay then, it's even more pointless than I thought. But trust me, you could feel the heavy-ocity all around. IS THAT GUY SUPPOSED TO BE GOD?
NO. SHUT UP.

Through the miracle of blogger technology, I am at this moment in Champaign, Illinois, reuniting with some old friends. BUT I'M WATCHING YOU AND I CAN SEE WHAT YOU'RE DOING. Happy to see Bret Favre in NYC. There are plenty of shrinks there for him.
A bientot
love,
becky p.s. Will Ferrell is not in the Dewey Cox Story. I just used him as a touchstone. As it were.