One of those kinds of “Facebook friends”…
month or so ago, the friend of a friend — let’s call her Peggy — requested to be my Facebook friend. Now, I’d never met Peggy before; in fact, I only recognized her name because of a group that she had set up – a group of which our mutual friend was a member. But I accepted Peggy’s Facebook friendship because, well, why not? Who cares.
Well, as it turns out, *I* care. I care, because Peggy persists in posting the most obnoxious, self-important, self-indulgent status updates. They drive me bonkers. Yes, I said “bonkers.” That’s how awful it is.
And I know, I KNOW I could just do away with her by clicking “Hide” on my Facebook homepage, thereby instantly deleting her from my Facebook existence. But, well, what can I say… I guess some sick part of me receives some sick kind of sick pleasure in mentally kickboxing her profile picture every time it pops up and I read her heart-laden status updates. Which, by the way, are FREQUENT. She’s the kind of person who updates merely for the sake of updating: “Eating lunch.” “Work.” “Store.” “Shopping.” “Shitter.”
OK, to be fair, the word count of her status updates is generally more than 1. Annoyingly more, actually. Oh, and I’ve never actually seen the word “shitter” come out of her perky little profile mouth. But you get my point. And, now that I think about it, I’d really prefer that she inform me she’s on the shitter rather than seeing all the other shit she spews.
But maybe I’m just in a bad mood.
Maybe I haven’t had enough Vitamin E.
Maybe you’ll all tell me that I’m a Bitter Betty and I need to be less judgmental and more pleased that certain people in the world are happy and loved and able to express it. (*ahem*)
But… seriously, she REALLY annoys me.
Here’s why…
AN ASSORTMENT OF PEGGY’S FACEBOOK STATUS UPDATES TAKEN FROM THE PAST WEEK:
*Note: names have been changed.
Home relaxing missing my husband already
He JUST got home and he’s gone again
Back home…last night home alone! ♥ My husband is on his way home, but won’t get back into town until atleast noon tomorrow! (September 7 at 8:21pm)
Heading to work…Yayyyyyy, [Cletus] should be back home by the time I get out of work ♥ (Tue at 6:21am)
I’m looking at my beautiful yellow tea roses my husband got me tonight. He’s FOREVER surprising me with flowers JUST BECAUSE…I LOVE YOU honey ♥ (Tuesday at 9:35pm)
Sitting eating fab, expensive lunch provided by one of our Reps…thanks [Alexis]
(Wed at 12:49pm)
Going out to dinner w/my husband ♥ and then see if we can find him a new laptop. His broke last week while on the road and he needs something to be able to chat with me online while he’s on the road
(Wed at 5:57pm)
Eating dinner. [Cletus] got a new laptop that should b smoking fast! Top of the line! (Wed at 8:00pm)
Eating lunch…Another fab restaurant paid for by fantastic patient! (Yesterday at 1:12pm)
Bought a new pair of shoes and Apple Bottom Jeans…they obviously run small because I’ve never had to buy a pair of size 7 jeans in my life, lol…Size 5 is the highest I’ve worn
(Yesterday at 4:28pm)
Good morning everyone
Did you get all that? No? Well, here are some translations, just in case.
TRANSLATIONS:
1. I cannot survive alone. DON’T MAKE ME LIVE ALONE. And if I *AM* alone, you better freakin’ send me flowers and/or gifts to remind me that you’re thinking of me constantly and that I’m awesome. And you SURE as hell better be able to afford a pimped-out laptop to Skype with me 24/7 because, in case I haven’t stressed this enough: I CANNOT BE ALONE.
2. Actually, even when you’re IN town, you should probably leave me an expensive array of gifts because your mere presence is not enough. Oh, and because I need to brag to all my “friends” and make them feel like their significant others are cheap-@ss, inadequate losers. If they even HAVE a significant other.
3. Also, I’m tiny. I’m tiny, even though I seem to be constantly gorging on the VERY EXPENSIVE lunches showered on me by my patients and reps. If Nelly wants me to buy his jeans, he better size them down. ‘Cuz I ain’t no size 7.
4. In conclusion: I CANNOT BE ALONE. MY LIFE RULES. YOURS DOES NOT.
…or maybe I’m just lame.
A lot of things have been eluding me lately. Total head-scratchers. Maybe you can help explain them to me… or maybe I’m just lame.
Why is this a good idea? (From http://www.flickr.com/photos/somethingshidinginhere/)
1. MUSTACHES???? Really??? Why is a fake mustache the latest fashion and party trend? Mustache-themed weddings, mustache parties, mustache jewelry, mustache hair pins, mustache hand towels… How has creepily tweaked facial hair become its own must-have party theme? When did it become a good idea to resemble the Pringles dude? I don’t get it. Holding a mask up to your face is one thing — still rather creepy, but not a gender-identified follicular occurrence. It might even annoy me more than the “Keep Calm & Carry On” craze.
2. Vampires. I don’t get it.
3. How to respond to not-quite-compliments on my appearance. Or on anything, really. For example: yesterday, I wore a batik-patterned maxi dress for the first day of teaching, coupled with a jean jacket and leather strappy flat sandals. It was sunny, mid-70s… it felt appropriate. A colleague saw me and exclaimed, “Wow, you look so summery!” Instinctively, I felt like I should respond, “Thank you,” but I immediately realized that it wasn’t exactly a compliment. It was merely her opinion about how I physically appeared. So, how do you respond to that? “Umm… yes, it’s a light-weight cotton ensemble, so I suppose that qualifies as ’summery.’ You are accurate in your seasonal assessment of my attire.” I don’t know. I’m sure this lame example illustrates my social awkwardness (which actually stretches WELL beyond “you look summery”), but… I just have ZERO CLUE what an appropriate, non-awkward reaction to such a comment would be. I ended up just smiling and mumbling something completely incoherent like, “Than–shmehshmehshmeh.” And then another colleague came bounding down the stairs, saving me from further social awkwardness, so I freakishly waved goodbye and promptly left the scene of the crime. I just don’t get it.
4. “Obama = Hitler” posters adorning the sidewalks in front of my university, along with a poster of Obama’s face stamped with a Hitler mustache. (Again with the freakin’ mustaches!) Since when did a black, democratic president who wants HEALTH CARE FOR ALL become the symbol of an anti-semitic, homophobic, generally hateful man who led a mass genocide?!? Seriously, What the F is wrong with people?!? And why are the “Obama = Hitler” supporters the ones with the most firearms?!? And why must they wield them at town hall meetings about HEALTH CARE??? WHAT IS GOING ON?!?!? Fortunately, just past the “Obama = Hitler” protesters, there were some dudes dancing around and singing “Obama’s not Hitler! Obama’s not Hitler! Give me five if you like Obama!” And a ton of people did. In fact, I gave him ten.
The degging: If Paris is doing it, you probably shouldn't. (From http://www.denimology.co.uk/)
5. Leggings are not pants; rather, they represent an unfortunate extension of the hosiery family. I realize that the current denim-legging (degging?) hybrid adds a slightly complicated element to the mix. Apparently “skinny jeans” weren’t enough, and now fashion designers want to make it look like females’ legs were painted and distressed. But think of it this way: if I can see your legging-shrouded bum and/or, more grotesquely, the outline of your freakin’underpants, you’re probably making me and the general public gag and lose our collective appetites. I would rather not have visual confirmation of the wedge you need to pick. Yeah, I’m talking to YOU, you three like-minded leggings-with-crop-top-wearing students in my writing seminar yesterday.
6. Levi Johnston, why are you on my TV and on my interwebs? As far as I can tell, your sole talent resides in shooting things: semen into a flighty former Alaskan governor’s daughter and, of course, animals. I saw your interview with Larry King, which really only further proved that you are a strong supporter of the monosyllable (preferentially “yep” and “nope”). Oh, and a lot of grunts, which I’m assuming are your solution to the “awkward silence.” And that’s fine. You’re a camo-loving, gun-toting Alaskan hunter, and you’re proud of it. So why are you suddenly on red carpets with Kathy Griffin? Why are you threatening to “write” a book? Just stop it. Go shoot defenseless sheep or something. (No, seriously, he shoots sheep. Sheep being all feral and over populating the earth and everything.)
29? (From http://cdn.picapp.com/ftp/Images)
7. There is no effing way that Kim Zolciak was only 29 when she filmed the first season of the Real Housewives of Atlanta. NO. EFFING. WAY. I mean, right? And I’m not just doubtful because that would mean I’m older than she is, I swear. Oh, and P.S.) In the sentence “They are going sightseeing,” “sightseeing” is NOT a verb. And P.S.S.) “Tardy for the Party” is seriously one of the Top 10 Dance Singles on iTunes?!? How many synthesizers did it take to drown out the fact that she’s tone-deaf?!? And is Nene singing background? Shouldn’t she get most of the credit for “writing” that song? (and I use the term “credit” very loosely).
8. Chalkboard paint. At first, I thought it marked a genius solution to kids slapping crayon all over the walls. But now, not unlike the mustache and Keep Calm crazes, it’s become a bit much.
Case in point:
Yes, that’s a chalkboard-painted car.
Dahlia Soleil
My belated birthday present to my owl-lovin’ self:
I found Dahlia Soleil on Etsy, and now I pretty much want everything in the store. Like this elephant shirt with little puffy sleeves:
And this ridiculously lovely hat:
Which would sort of look like this, but on me instead, and not in these colors:
And look at these awesome fingerless gloves:
I’m not sure why I’m obsessing over traditional winter wear in the middle of summer, but the fact that Boston only saw four days of sun in the month of June might have something to do with it.
In any case, if you’re as smitten as I am (or if you want to buy me a belated birthday gift too), here’s where you can find them: DAHLIA SOLEIL
I generally don’t post clothing/design stuff on this blog, but this stuff doesn’t really fit the “words” component of my other blog either, so… voilà.
OK, back to my non-existent weekend of proofreading and translating…
On second thought, do something.
hether prompted by the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, the mudslinging during last fall’s presidential election, or Sarah Palin’s cringe-inducing voice, the poster bearing the saying “Keep calm and carry on” has made a resurgence this past year.
Image: http://paulvieira.wordpress.com/2007/03/29/
The perfect Father's Day gift
The poster, which harkens back to the WWII era and invokes the crown and message of King George VI, seems to be cropping up everywhere lately. It even has its own freakin’ website, for crying out loud. And, I have to say, I kind of resent it. In fact, I just found the poster reproduced on beautiful porcelain tiles that I posted on my other blog today, and I couldn’t help but highlight my disdain for the message. I understand that King Georgie meant to reassure his people that “all capable measures to defend the Country were being taken” (SOURCE; see below), but I fail to see how “keeping calm” and “carrying on” with one’s daily routine equates to an engaging, active people. Europe was being taken over by Naziism and fascist dictators. Genocide was occurring. Millions of people were literally going up in smoke in concentration camps. AND YOU’RE COMMANDING PEOPLE TO KEEP CALM AND CARRY ON LIKE NOTHING’S THE MATTER?!?!?!?
I’m not a licensed physician or anything, but I *am* almost a doctor (PhD, MD, same diff), and I deem Georgie a wee bit delusional.
So, the fact that this message is finding its way onto cufflinks, deck chairs, rugs, and children’s clothing (?!? aren’t “children” and “calm” sort of oxymorons?!? I mean that in a good way. Children should not just “carry on”… children should react and do the whole pleasure principle thing, damn it)… it disturbs me. I don’t like it one bit.
(Images above found HERE)
Which is why, when I found the following images, I smiled, clapped my hands, and acted like a general non-calm lunatic out of sheer happiness and comfort:
That's more like it.
How perfect is that?!? Olly Moss created the print above, and there are now t-shirts and mugs, too. Not sure about the cufflinks. I’ll get back to you.
I’ve seen this version around, too:
Found here: http://www.monster-munch.com/2008/08/
But I don’t get it. Cool guitar, but… keeping calm seems a bit counter-intuitive to “rocking on” as far as I’m concerned. How does one calmly rock? Headbanging while smoking weed? I don’t get it.
Oh, and then I found this version:
From here: http://www.notcot.com/archives/2009/03/make_things.php
That saying’s pretty cool, but it sort of ignores the politicality (is that a word? again, I’m almost a doctor, so please just accept it as real) of the “Freak out” poster. I think I’d like it better if the crown were still upside down and then the message said something like “BE PROACTIVE” or “ENGAGE” or “DON’T BE A COMPLACENT @SSHOLE” or something like that.
I’m not too picky.
Your plastic bags would look cooler as garland.
oday’s French Friday post on my alter-ego blog, Words & Eggs, featured the socially and environmentally responsible project of Les Filles du Facteur, called “recyclagesacplastic” (recycling plastic bags). 
I wanted to feature their humanitarian and artistic efforts here on PauvrePlume as well because I’ve fallen in love with this project and the union its fostered between the women of France and Burkina Faso, a small francophone country in northwest Africa.
Together, the women of the North (France) and of the South (Burkina) are working to establish new means for repurposing plastic bags in order to save them from entering our global landfills. The mission is rather simple, though the methods are highly unique and creative, allowing an artistic outlet and solution for a global problem. While efforts to eliminate plastic bags can now be seen across the U.S. as well (those Whole Foods bags seem to have oddly become somewhat of a fashion statement), we all still have some extra bags lying around, whether to line our wastebaskets or to transport our lunches. If you’re in France (or even if you’re not) and you’d like to dispose of your own plastic sacs, Les Filles du Facteur will gladly take them off your hands and put them to beautifully good use, making coin purses, candles, garland, and even hoodies (yep, I said hoodies). You can mail your plastic bags here:
Filles du Facteur
5 rue Perrée
75003 Paris FRANCE
From their website:
Le projet « recyclagesacplastic » comporte toutes les valeurs d’une philosophie basée sur l’écologie et l’aide au développement : la protection du savoir-faire « à la main », l’environnement, l’éducation, les problèmes de santé et de l’enfance défavorisée pour le sud, l’autonomie des femmes immigrées dans les banlieues pour le nord.
La communication établie entre les femmes du nord et celles du sud conduit à une prise de conscience mutuelle et élargit le champ d’action des échanges entre les cultures.
For additional images, please see my parallel post on Words & Eggs… or, even better, go directly to the sources: Les Filles du Facteur, Facteur Céleste, and their online shop.
Pinky extended.
Just four days after we inaugurated our 44th president (au revoir, Bushy!), England marked its own inaugural celebration:
On January 24th, 2009, approximately 150 tweed-clad cyclists took to the streets of London for a 20-mile jaunt around the city. Houndstooth, argyle, and pipes abounded. Some tweedies (?) even brought their vintage bicycles to complete the old-school picture.
I’m pretty sure they broke for tea, too. Two for tea.
Old-school pictures follow, courtesy of FLICKR:
Lip List
OK, before I move on to my Monday List, please allow me to address the cracked-out elephant whisping around the room:
Oh, Drew. Drew Drew Drew… you’ve had your share of fashion f*ck-ups, it’s true:
But you’ve also proven that you know your fashion sh*t:
So… OK. It’s OK. I get it… we all have our learning curve… our own timeline… one step forward, two steps back, yada yada. So, I’ll be patient with you, and I’ll retain hope and faith that this:
never happens again. ps) you and your pal Jessica Lange were sippin’ some of the secret sauce before the Globes ceremony, weren’t you? It’s OK. Our secret.
Now then… In keeping with the cracked-out Hollywood theme — wait, one more thing: I actually really really like Drew Barrymore. Truly. Despite stunts like those pictured above, her obviously genuine demeanor has always stood out, and I’ve always admired her “I could give a sh*t what you think” attitude. And… come on… two words: E.T.. Way too cute for her own good. And she still is. OK, tangent over. Back to my cracked-out Hollywood list. I’ve decided to make a Lip List. That is, I am going to attempt to enumerate those celebrities who’ve gone a little bit majorly freakin’ overboard on the whole collagen thing. As a result, they look like honorary members of The Dark Crystal and, therefore, inhabit my nightmares and freak the living h*ll out of me.
Lippy stars of The Dark Crystal
List of the scariest lips in Hollywood:
(in alphabetical order by scary celebrity)
1. Lara Flynn Boyle. Remember when she dated Jack Nicholson? ALMOST as scary as this:
2. Courteney Cox was so much cooler when she was snappin’ her fingers on stage with Springsteen.
3. Kathie Lee Gifford has always been obnoxious and scary. So I really don’t have anything else to say.
4. Melanie Griffiths. I am led to wonder whether the collagen was a pre- or post-Antonio development? Either way, those lips speak volumes about the MG-AB dynamic.
5. Nicole Kidman. Good ‘ole Nic. I used to be rather infatuated with her in high school — particularly her spirally red curls and her “screw you”/Ms. Independent attitude in Far and Away. And then she had to go and dye her head blonde and straighten it out and tighten her face and plump her lips. And now she just makes me sad.
6. Jeff Lewis, who is very gay and very OCD, and I LOVE him for it and want to be his straight girlfriend. I also want to be his new assistant: the guy definitely needs some help in the lip department, what can I say?
7. Heidi Montag. As if her choice in Spencer were not terrifying enough, she had to go and choose to do this:
8. Brittany Murphy. CLUELESS:
9. Dolly Parton clearly took some time off from her 9 to 5 work schedule to get some other kind of work done:
10. Joan Rivers. The hypocrisy of THIS woman judging how OTHER people look on the red carpet is pure insanity.
11. Meg Ryan used to be that cute girl from When Harry Met Sally, remember?
12. Big-time Golden Globe winner last night, Mickey Rourke. He kinda looks like Michael Myers of Halloween fame. Not a compliment.
13. Jessica Simpson. Chicken of the Sea.
13. Ivana Trump can clearly afford to look nothing like what she used to look like.
14. Kim Vo, “Shear Genius” host and celebrity hairstylist for the likes of Britney. Maybe Britney paid him to do that?
Another Monday, another list:
Johnny, be good
ohnny Hallyday appeared on VH-1 tonight. Rather than spout off about the French legend-that-is-Johnny H, I’ll spare you and, instead, offer you a simple Wikipedia link: 
Johnny Hallyday’s Wiki-dness. Basically, Johnny Hallyday is to France as Elvis is to the U.S.. Only, Johnny hasn’t left the building. Not yet anyway. Any more stunts like the one he pulled tonight, though, and he just might find himself digging an early tombeau.
Now, you’d think that maybe Johnny appeared on an episode of “Storytellers” or some type of J.H. laudatory special or something. But no. No, instead, Johnny made an attempt at PR suicide and decided it would be a stellar idea to appeal to America’s younger generation (what are they called, anyway? Gen-Y? are we on Gen-Z now? whatever) via the wellspring of all things respectful and music-conscious: “Rock of Love: Charm School.” Apparently, J-bird has joined forces with clothing designer Christian Audigier (of “Ed Hardy” designs) to create a line called “Smet,” which just so happens to be Johnny’s actual sir name. Smet. Curiously close to “smut,” don’t you think? Hmmm…
In any case, Johnny looked like his usual scary self. Only perhaps even slightly more so because he was seated next to Sharon Osbourne and confronted by women who generally communicate via body shots and the occasional plate-launch.
But Johnny’s been rather unfortunate looking all his life, in my humble opinion. You be the judge:
Well, there you go. If the above Johnny collage gives you nightmares tonight, I apologize. I just felt the need to prove the JH scary quotient.
I suppose that the French Elvis can afford to conduct side projects like random t-shirt lines and stuff. But how come he thinks that Gen-Z’ers will have any desire to sport the sir name of some washed-up, tweaked-out French dude?! let alone pay upwards of $100 for the d@mn thing. True story: the Christian Audigier/JohnnyHallyday/Smet cronies are charging $106 for the long-sleeved shirt below:
I guess I’m missing something.
Either that, or those “Charm”ing VH-1 girls slipped Christian Audigier a roofie and took over the pricing.
Another school year, the C word, and torture.
onfession: My pogs have been politico-centric lately so as to avoid the main order of PauvrePlume business, which isHOLY F*CKING SH*T ARE YOU SERIOUSLY F*CKING TELLING ME THAT ANOTHER F*CKING SCHOOL YEAR IS BEGINNING AND I’M *STILL* F*CKING HERE AND *STILL* NOT DONE WITH MY F*CKING DISSERTATION?!? SERIOUSLY?!?!?
Ahem.
Composure.
My sincere apologies for all the “F*CKING”s. Sometimes it’s just impossible for me to rein it all in. Especially when that “sometime” equals the night before my fall course begins. And said “fall course” is one that I’ve never taught before. Ever. And it’s in English. And I’ve never taught in English before. Even though English is my native language. You might think that this point is moot and that slipping in my native tongue should be a non-issue. In response to such thoughts, I retort: quelle naïveté! When teaching French language and literature, I could hide behind the French. The students viewed everything I said as smartly wrapped bundles of brilliance. No, seriously. Reminder: there are no annoying, de-intellectualizing “likes” in French.
Stop the insanity!
While I am well aware that the course topic and selected readings should take their positions front-and-center, insecure PauvrePlume can’t help but worry that her English just ain’t as intelligent/cool-soundin’ as the French, and that her students are going to trample all over it and wonder where the F their $40K is going (umm, not sure why I’m doing the third-person thing… I plead night-before-classes-start. Please bear with me). Basically, I’m afraid that I could singlehandedly cause my university’s freshmen dropout rate to escalate to Guinness-Book-of-World-Records proportions.
I never exaggerate, fyi.
So anyway… here I am, night before my “Tortured Poet” class starts, and I’m switching between CNN’s Republican Convention coverage and the new 90210 version 2.0. Talk about whiplash. I’m not sure which is more contrived. What I *do* know is that neither has managed to calm me down and take my mind off of the fact that HOLY F*CKING SH*T, ARE YOU SERIOUSLY F*CKING TELLING ME THAT ANOTHER F*CKING SCHOOL YEAR IS BEGINNING AND I’M *STILL* NOT F*CKING DONE WITH MY F*CKING DISSERTATION?!?!?
Ok, I’m sorry. Truly. I am. It’s like Tourette’s or something. I’ll try better to censor myself. Though censorship is such an awful, dirty word. I really think it should be what we refer to when we say the “C word,” rather than the C word that rhymes with “punt.” Tangent.
So…where was I? Oh yeah… so, I’m nervous about teaching this course for the first time — and teaching in English for the first time — but mostly I’m just uneasy about the curious connection between my (hopefully) final school year here at University X and my designed course that focuses on torture. Coincidence? I think not. And if you know me, you KNOW not.
Hair helmet + unexpressive (cross) eyes = Laurabot
*Sidenote: Is Laura Bush cross-eyed? She’s always disturbed me (potential crossed eyes notwithstanding). Her hair never moves, have you noticed that? It’s a total helmet. And her eyes are disturbingly unexpressive — undoubtedly a result of 30 years of marriage to Dubya. Perez Hilton and Jon Stewart (and others, I’m sure) enjoy highlighting Cindy McCain’s roboticism (I just invented that word), but I’m more concerned about Laurabot. Sh*t. I just missed the end of 90210 because of this Laurabot obsession.
I just prepared my little teaching binder for tomorrow. Photocopies of syllabi are made. Class list is printed, complete with student photos (hands-down the best invention for teachers to pretend that they miraculously know a student’s name within five minutes of meeting them). I even have my outfit picked out. True story. There was a time when I’d get dolled up for the first day and wear a skirt or *gasp!* even a DRESS (!!!). Yeah, times have changed. Gone are the days when PauvrePlume actually gave a rat’s A about how she looked in a lame attempt to assert some sort of authority over her students, creating the ever-so-important “distance” between teacher and student, which teaching advisors like to cling to as the freaking Golden Rule or something. (I know I know: third-person again. Ok ok…) Nowadays, I wear more what makes me feel comfortable to teach and less what makes me feel like I’m playing teacher. And that’s a good thing. And that’s NOT a skirt and CERTAINLY not a dress.
Besides: I’m pretty sure it’s a conflict of interest to teach about tortured poets while wearing some light, airy frock.
Ok, I think I’m done rambling now.
Really I just need some more Mountain Dew.
Also, the confessional nature of this pog makes me uneasy.
