A spooky, scary and spine-chillingly appropriate holiday story, also see: hilarious cautionary tale

Awhile back, my good friend Alex was telling a group of us a story about her married life that I have never quite been able to shake from my mind. To this day, I still laugh out loud when I envision the real-life scene. She was one of my roommates in our off-campus house during the college years and I am well-versed in her romantic history. In those days, there was more than one random Tuesday afternoon when I'd walk into the house and be greeted with Madonna's Justify My Love pounding through the speakers and the view of a veritable Splendor on the Carpet because Alex and her college boyfriend didn't have class that day. Never mind that she had her own bedroom with her own door, or that she knew when her roommates would get home for the day. That kind of stuff never seemed to bother her at all.

I have so many great and wholly-inappropriate-for-this-blog stories about living with her that I could fill a book, but I'll wait for my publishing deal to come through. I don't give it all away for free, you know! Back to the story that I am going to share with you...

Alex and her husband were looking to spice things up in the bedroom with a little bit of role playing. Her husband worked second shift and she suggested that one night after she's asleep he should come into the bedroom with a mask on--like an intruder--and, you know, seduce her. He shouldn't tell her in advance though, because that would ruin the surprise. So far, so good, right?

She assumed that when the night came, he would wear something like this:


A textbook ski mask. They had an entire front closet full of them.


Or this:


The bank robber look. Simple. Classic. Never goes out of style.


Or, if he was feeling REALLY creative maybe he'd show up in something like this:


She didn't REALLY think he'd go to the trouble of buying a mask with rhinestone detailing, but this was about as much credit as she was giving him for pulling out all the stops. That was the last time she'd ever underestimate his creativity.


Here's the part of the story which emphasizes the great divide between women and men, and how we are not wired the same way AT ALL.

Several weeks had gone by, and she drifted off to sleep one night, with nary a thought of their previous discussion. Her husband came home from work and figured it had been long enough for her to have put the "seduction by masked man" idea out of her mind so he excitedly went into action, going to the garage to pull out what he planned to wear from the very first time she brought it up. He just knew he had the perfect thing! He then skulked into the house, and tip-toed into their darkened bedroom. Just as he hovered over her side of the bed, he flipped on the low-wattage nightstand lamp while shaking her shoulder to wake her.

She groggily opened her eyes, to see this:

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Turns out he had an old Halloween costume in the garage that she didn't know about: Jason, from Friday the 13th


She screamed her head off, jumped up from the bed, and kicked him so hard that he fell to his knees. Her violent reaction shocked him! Her incredibly accurate kick knocked the wind out of him! This was NOT part of the plan! Even though he was reaching for her from the floor, attempting to say, "It's ME! It's okay, it's only ME!" all that was coming out of his mouth was a succession of low and indistinguishable moans of confounded pain. In the meantime, she ran to grab the kitchen phone and locked herself in the bathroom on the lower level of their house, where she immediately called 911.

By the time her husband gathered himself and made it downstairs, the police were already on their way, and boy, did he have some explaining to do.


Do yourself a favor this Halloween--and especially any other day of the year-- resist waking your loved one while wearing a terrifying costume, no matter how perfect you think it is.

Now all that's left to do is wait for the e-mail from Javier Bardem. He's probably typing it up right now, or maybe he's ordering me some flowers.

After Wednesday's post, I got an email from the gentleman who created the drool-worthy Transit Maps of the World book, Mark Ovenden. Not only is he very talented in design and cartography, but he's also good at crafting a hilarious e-mail!


You're not alone, Mark! People always marvel at my ability to drool effervescently on such diverse subjects.


After recovering from a fit of laughter, I wrote him back:


Let it be known to one and all that I take very seriously both the studies and appreciation of graphic design and spanish hunkology. I've been kind of a trailblazer in that realm for a long time and I don't think people give me enough credit for it, to be honest.**

**Just kidding, people give me PLENTY of credit, or shall I say "crédito".

CLICK HERE for Wednesday's post that Mark refers to in his e-mail to me.

I'm one of the people the reviewer is writing about if you replace Courtney Love with Javier Bardem. I'd like to know all-things-obscene about him.

Especially since every single salacious thing about Courtney Love has already been exposed. Yes, I would be the first in line to buy a book filled with all the dirty little (and big) secrets of Javier Bardem; oh, and also a book filled with maps of every subway/tube system in the world! What took so long for the latter to happen, and how long must I wait for the former? Somebody please get to work on that! I'm salivating already.

But in the meantime...


Drool.

Subway Hounds Rejoice: New Book Provides Every Transit Map in the World
by Marty Jerome

Believe it or not, there are people who will sink into this book as if it were a salacious biography of Courtney Love (Javier Bardem!). Mark Ovenden has pulled together both historic and current maps of every rapid-transit system in the world. The maps cover more than 200 megacities as well as smaller urban areas, including Bilbao, Bucharest, Oslo, Toronto and Vienna. It includes maps for cities that use light rail systems, monorail services and hybrid tram-trains. And oddly, they're beautiful. Even the casual browser who hates mass transit will find the graphics, symbols and colors of these maps to be engrossing.

Transit Maps of the World is the first and only comprehensive collection of historic and current maps of every rapid-transit system on earth. Using glorious, colorful graphics, Ovenden traces the history of mass transit-including rare and historic maps, diagrams, and photographs, some available for the first time since their original publication. Transit Maps is the graphic designer’s new bible, the transport enthusiast’s dream collection, and a coffee-table essential for everyone who’s ever traveled in a city.

OK, you caught me! Javier Bardem doesn't have much to do with this particular post, really. But I AM working on one for another night that is more involved and has everything to do with him (swoon!), so I suppose he was just on the brain. However, he does in fact make me drool, and the Transit Maps of the World book makes me drool a little, though admittedly for different reasons. But again, that has nothing to do with this particular post.


Double drool. By the way, I can already hear my friends laughing because he is SO obviously my type (Tall? check! Dark? check! Hot? check! English-as-a-second-language? check!) that it seems almost silly to dedicate not only one blog post but another one (upcoming) to him in the same week. In my defense, a man this hot bears repeating y usted sabe que tengo razón (and you know I'm right)!

San Diego en el fuego

Pacific Beach in San Diego is one of my favorite places on earth, and seeing the news coverage on these California fires has been awful. Some of my favorite people live in California, and I hope everything there is under control soon.


Pacific Sands Motel, Pacific Beach. We didn't stay at this place, but it was so adorable I had to shoot it as we walked by on our way to the water. ©House of Jules

Three reasons I love doing photo shoots

Charissa's son Rhea


Kate's daughter Lilly

The third and most important reason I love doing photo shoots of these particular children is because they both have well-behaved parents, which is harder to come by than you'd think.

Things said to me in conversation with friends down south; also see: "Things you'd never hear in Chicago"

These are just 4 of the many charmingly southern things said to me this week while visiting very charming southern friends. They actually say things like this in everyday conversation. Really.

1) "Man, I'm dying for some pimento cheese!"

2) "Go three clicks west until you see a black dog tied to the wheel well of a rusted out monster truck, and then take a left."

3) "You can gitchoo some sweet tea at Mac-Donald's."

4) "Hey Darlin'!"

When I get back home I'll miss hearing #4 the most. By far.

Now insisting people call me Julie Golightly. Consider yourself warned.

A few weeks ago I ordered a custom shirt and journal that I designed for my sister from Cafe Press. When a box arrived at my door last week, I assumed it was that order. I opened the box and saw something wrapped in white paper. I thought, "What the hell is this? There's no way that a t-shirt and a journal would fit in this little bundle."

Then I checked the mailing label on the box to make sure it was meant for me and not my neighbor. I looked in at the contents of the box again and saw that the paper had TIFFANY & CO. printed all over it. I thought, "Why would Cafe Press wrap orders in Tiffany & Co. gift wrap? Odd.", then checked the shipping label AGAIN because I was confused. The box was definitely addressed to me.

As I reached in to get the Tiffany tissue-wrapped package, still not understanding why Cafe Press would be using Tiffany tissue paper (but disregarding that confusion), I figured that the shirt I ordered must be on back order and the journal was shipped anyway. That couldn't be right though, because whatever was by this time in my hands was smaller than the size of the journal. This did not make any sense! I had to tell myself to resist checking the damn mailing label again and start taking the tissue off already.

It hadn't occurred to me, because I was so focused on thinking about the Cafe Press order, that it was the week of my birthday and someone may have sent me a gift. Finally it hit me, and I thought, "Wait a minute, is that a blue box peeking through? OHMAGAWD, it's a box from Tiffany's!

That is when all time came to a screeching halt.

You see, I've never gotten anything from Tiffany & Co., and honestly never thought I could be affected like this by a simple blue box. It IS just a box, after all, but the truth is that it's really NOT. I instantly turned into a squealing freak. I actually jumped up and down, and seriously could not believe myself. My friends & family might not have recognized me in those moments! I was exhilarated, woozy even. I opened the gift card and realized that it was a birthday gift from my Hunker Friend, Staci.

I think it must have been some kind of evolutionary response because the adrenaline was pumping so hard that I could have probably lifted a car. Luckily I had better things to do like pulling out my camera spending 30 minutes shooting the entire unwrapping process of such a momentous gift. Let it never be said that I have no restraint! This is quite possibly the longest gift-opening in documented history, but I really wanted to just be in that moment and enjoy the whole thing. Savor it, you know? Turn up your nose if you want, but I was crazy with excitement.


Gentlemen, beware. This is like porn for women. Smoke 'em if ya got 'em, and feel free to hum the bow-chika-wow-wow music while clicking through these. Just move your mouse from left to right over each thumbnail, clicking on each thumbnail to see the larger version:


It's okay if you imagined your OWN initial when you saw that last "money shot".

I'm now convinced that you could give me anything in a little blue box and I would receive it happily. Bad news to give me? Wrap it up in a blue box with a white ribbon! Just be sure you address me--blue box or not--as Miss Golightly from now on, mmmkay? Anyone with complaints about this new policy can see Staci, the person responsible for the monster that blue box and the gorgeous Elsa Peretti letter 'J' pendant has created.



The original Breakfast at Tiffany's trailer, starring Audrey Hepburn as Holly Golightly

"Questionable memory stick" or questionable memory?

Maybe it's time to stop accepting gifts of MEMORY STICKS from Ohio legislative liaisons, Representative Barrett; though it's just as likely that the person to point the finger at is the no-paycheck-collecting intern who had to do all the work in compiling everything for the civics lesson you were teaching. Consider yourself schooled. The upside for you is that at some point you really, really had the full attention of the class.

Lawmaker shows naked woman during school lecture
NORWALK, Ohio (AP) -- A state legislator surprised a high school class when the computer he was using projected a photo of a nude woman during a lecture on how a bill becomes a law.

State Rep. Matthew Barrett said the questionable memory stick had been given to him several weeks ago.

State Rep. Matthew Barrett was giving a civics lesson Tuesday when he inserted a data memory stick into the school computer and the projected image of a topless woman appeared instead of the graphics presentation he had downloaded.

Police interviewed Barrett and school officials and seized the data memory stick and the computer to determine where the image came from, a state highway patrol spokesman said.

Barrett said there were a few snickers from the approximately 20 students in the senior government class at Norwalk High School when the image appeared. He said he immediately pulled the memory stick out of the computer.

The legislator said he finished his lecture using printouts and then met with the school's principal and technology staff, who examined the stick. He said the school's technology director determined the stick had a directory of nude images in addition to Barrett's presentation on civics lessons.

"I have no idea where these came from," the Democrat said. Barrett said the data memory stick was a gift he received about three weeks ago from a legislative liaison from the state Library of Ohio.

Source

Malkovich, Malkovich, Malkovich!

The point of today's post isn't to tell you about a strange movie. I'm opening with writing about a strange movie merely as a base to help you understand what watching a presentation on the latest computer technology actually did to my brain. Stick with me through the movie explanation to get the full-bang-for-your-buck pay off at the end!


Being John Malkovich, 1999

The movie Being John Malkovich was one of those borderline art films that people either loved or loathed. In case you've never seen it, here is a very brief intro to what the movie is about:

One day, file clerk Craig Schwartz (John Cusack) accidentally discovers a hidden door behind a filing cabinet that leads down a dank tunnel. This tunnel, in actuality, is a birth canal-like portal into the head of actor John Malkovich. Whoever crawls into this portal gets to experience 15 minutes of living inside the body of the famed actor.

Schwartz’s co-worker, Maxine (Catherine Keener), turns this discovery into a capitalist venture and begins charging people $200 a pop to experience life through the Malkovich-cam. Malkovich (playing himself in the movie) uncovers this "amusement ride" enterprise and demands they cease operation and close up the portal. Malkovich decides to enter the portal himself to see what the draw is, and things quickly go haywire from there.

I'm a big fan of art and independent films, but I didn't like it at all, with the exception of these 2 things that made me LOVE it:

1). Until seeing that movie, I was in disbelief that it was possible to ugly-up Cameron Diaz to a completely unrecognizable degree, which gave me the kind of sick satisfaction that only people who aren't naturally 99% legs and teeth can relate to--and for the record, that is most of the people in the universe, besides the aforementioned Cameron Diaz and her equally blond & leggy counterpart in the Screen Actor's Guild, Charlize Theron.


I bet at first glance you didn't even recognize this as Cameron Diaz from her role in Being John Malkovich. Even now, I'm still sickly satisfied with her looking like this.

It should be noted that I feel ok writing about this because after we saw the movie together, my friend Steve told me in a completely serious way that sometimes he secretly wished Brad Pitt would, "get into a mildly disfiguring car accident because his flawless beauty was too much to be of this earth, and it could not, under any circumstances, be trusted. It's true that we were in a dimly-lit booth in one of our favorite Greenwich Village bars, enjoying tropical drinks and sing-along show tunes when he confessed such a thing, but no matter. The point is that I totally get what Steve was saying.


2). The only other thing that made me really love the movie (and what has most to do with the rest of this post, so pay attention here, people!) is the scene when John Malkovich decides to enter the portal to HIS OWN HEAD. The scene is only one minute long, but has remained possibly the strangest thing I've ever seen on film or in life. It is both disturbing and fascinating (kind of like Brad Pitt's looks, according to Steve!):

"Malkovich, Malkovich, Malkovich!" Because, see, he took a portal to the inside of his OWN head. Based on these results, I suggest you steer clear of this kind of thing if given the chance.


So now that you have that background information, you will understand exactly what I felt like when I watched the following T.E.D. presentation, and how I suddenly felt the need to say, "Malkovich, Malkovich, Malkovich". This level of technology is the definition of mindblowing, and will I think, excite everyone who sees it because it makes clear that the computer masterminds of the world are working to make this available to the masses.

I'm no fool and realize that you're going to hesitate before deciding whether or not to click the play button on this, but I must insist because if this presentation could make an audience full of genius programmers gasp out loud and give a standing ovation, it will surely impress the cynic in you. I was amazed from the very start, but at around 4 minutes into this presentation, with the introduction of Photosynth? THAT IS WHERE MY BRAIN CRACKED WIDE OPEN. This whole thing so cool that I won't even bother trying to describe it any further, just click play and watch for yourself:

My father's daughter

Happy Birthday, Dad!

For as long as I can remember, I've always been told that I'm my father's daughter. If you believe that astrology has any affect on your personality traits, then I suppose it was kind of unavoidable since I was born the day before his 31st birthday. We share--for the most part--the same sense of humor, the same temperament, the same taste in cars and the same driving style (and speaking of driving: the same ability to drive my mom crazy), the same lack of patience with rude people, the same inability to 'beat-around-the-bush', the same love for people-watching, the same fascination with all things Chihuly, and the same appreciation for anything that is of-from-around-or-about Italy. Oh yeah, we also have the same nose, though mine is MUCH smaller and cuter.


No need for an actual DNA test, just look at us. Dad at hardball league, holding a beer. I'm the shorty behind him, holding a beer of my own, or so it seems. 1982-ish.

Whenever our family is sitting around reminiscing, our parents complain that my sister & I only remember "the bad stuff"; like having to spend every hot summer Saturday weeding underneath the biggest magnolia tree you've ever seen, or how when we were teens we had a 10-minute time limit on every phone call and how they always knew when time was up even if they were an entire floor below us. How about the time I got grounded in 4th grade for 6 whole weeks because I got a 'D' in handwriting, while the fact that Dad's handwriting was so sloppy he was often asked if he was a doctor seemed to escape him as he handed down my punishment. I also enjoy bringing up how I had a 10pm curfew all the way through high school when my friends were practically just beginning their weekend night festivities... but all those "bad things" are sometimes more entertaining to look back on now that she & I are adults.


Just let your soul glo! The afro seen 'round the world. 1979-ish.


The truth is that there was a lot more good stuff than bad. As a teen I would have disagreed, but it turns out that it's important to have parents who set boundaries and have high expectations of their children because as our parents always say, we turned out alright after all!


Dad & Mom, dating in their teens, plotting how to torture their future daughters with things like personal responsibility and curfews.


Mom & Dad. Venice Beach, 1993-ish.

Thanks for everything, Dad. I'll try to bring up more of the good stuff when we sit around telling stories the next time, like when you taught me (at 16) to drive your hot new stick shift sports car and I almost killed us in the middle of an intersection when the car died as I was trying to make a left turn. You didn't lose your cool with me, not for a second; even when I was panicking because I couldn't get the clutch and the gas pedals synced up and the car died again, after it sputtered a few feet closer to the swiftly approaching oncoming traffic. You just yelled, "GO! GO! GO!" and then... I did! That pretty much sums it up. You're always there, spurring me on to simply put my mind to something and do it.


Clearly up to no good in 1987. Speaking of that 'fro... It looks as if Missy decided to sport that look too, but it was just the wind.

You're the best, and not only is that a compliment for you, but it's a compliment for ME because I'm proud to say that even after all of these years, people still tell me that I'm my father's daughter. But they always add, "with a MUCH smaller and cuter version of his nose!" Really, they add that, I swear.

Happy Birthday! I Love you.

The atomic number of selenium, and as of today, my age

1979. Those wings: took my mom forever to curl, and even more hairspray than you can possibly imagine to hold in place. I remember being VERY concerned that they would go flat before I got this picture taken. That dress: hideous, even then.


This was my favorite birthday gift of my entire childhood: The Hot Cycle "Green Machine", and I was the only kid on the block to have one. Even the boys were jealous, as you can see by the stance of Mr. Plaid Pants. Seeing this photo of me on my much-storied "Green Machine" will make Jen & Eric Cox laugh very hard, but that's another story for another day.


I can tell this is going to be a good year already because in the past 48 hours I've gone through 3 brand-new-to-me experiences. I'll blog about the other 2 when my 'visual aides' are completed, but here's one I can share with you now.

New Experience #1

I got this email from my future baby-daddy Todd (McMuffin) shortly after midnight:




Just after he answered in that southern drawl, I suddenly heard what I thought was static, and I figured the connection on our cell phones was bad. Here's how our conversation began:

Todd: "Hey, happy birthday, babe!"

Static/white noise/blowing sounds

Me: "Thank you! What is that sound? You there?"

louder blowing sounds

Todd: "I'M ON FIRE!"

the sound of a chair overturning

Me: "You're ON FIRE?"

I then realize the noise I think is a bad connection is actually Todd trying to extinguish the flames with his own breath.

Me: "Are you alright???"

more intense blowing, intermixed with that contagious laugh of his, sounding further away, because he has by this time set the phone down

Todd: "WHEW! Ok, baby. My sleeve was on fire. For a minute I thought I was going to be your own human birthday candle, but since I'm planning to jump out of a cake for your birthday, it's good to work these kinks out before the actual show."

It's going to be a very good year.

Kitten's got claws (and probably a chemical imbalance)!

I wish some people could pick a mood (or a medication) and stick with it, at least for more than 20 minutes.

He's 1/3 of the way to becoming The Six Million Dollar Man

My Dad just had hip replacement surgery today. His new hip? Titanium. Because that's how he rolls, you know. Eventually he'll get new knees, which will then confirm that he is, in fact, the new Six Million Dollar Man. Until then he's only the Two Million Dollar Man.

He's priceless to us, though! I mean, check out these stellar sideburns:

Dad, Knott's Berry Farm. 1976-ish.

Ain't lookin' for nothing but a good time...and it don't get better than this*

Sunday night was the finale of VH1's dating show, Rock of Love, starring Bret Michaels of Poison.

It is without shame that I tell you I watched every single episode of this show, and took it for what it was: Nothin' but a good time. Because I actually own Poison records (as in VINYL-- the fact that I'm sharing this with the world further proves I'm shameless) from back in the day, I felt like I would be able to pick out who would either win Bret's heart, or give him the best lap dance, depending on what he was looking for at the end of this series. My friends & I actually had bets going.

For the final 2, he ended up with Jes, the down to earth Midwestern girl with cool hair to match her personality, and Heather, an exotic dancer with stripper-riffic hair. I'm telling you, her hairstyles were so GLORIOUS that I often found myself tossing dollar bills at my TV. Hairspray has never had a better commercial than Heather's 'do on this show.


Thanks to Rich at VH1's Celebrity Blog for these beautiful screen caps of Heather's hair by week.



This might have been her hairstyle for the final elimination, but I'm sure it's not the last we'll see of that over-dyed, dried up, backcombed, damaged hot mess. Or her hair. Bah-dum-bump!


Back when the season first started--before anyone knew who would end up as the final two--I had my money down on Chicago's very own Jes as the winner. I was fairly certain that she was the only girl there who wouldn't kill him in his sleep, but the main reason I told everyone I knew that he'd pick her was because she bears a striking resemblance to Poison's kooky guitar player, C.C. Deville. I can't believe that none of the other entertainment blogs I read have picked up on this yet, but here are 2 examples I put together in Photoshop that prove my point:


A side-by-side comparison. I put CC on a similar background that Jes is on for her 'official' Rock of Love headshot. It's uncanny, right?


Cover art for Poison's debut album, Look What the Cat Dragged In


Can you spot the difference?


By far, the most entertaining girl on the show was perpetually skunk-drunk Tiffany, from the south side of Chicago. South-syyyyyde represent! She was only on for a couple of episodes, but her favorite slurred phrase is stuck in my vernacular forever: "Don't threaten ME with a good time".


Tiffany in her best light. By the way, if you get so drunk that captioning is used so that the viewing audience understands that you're trying to say "Fo' Sho", maybe you've had enough to drink.


Sunday is the reunion episode, which we plan to watch all together. Reality TV reunion episodes are the best because for some of the cast it'll be their last chance at 15 minutes of fame, so they pull out all the stops. Also, since I picked Jes as the winner, I have some money to collect from those suckers my friends. Hey, don't threaten ME with a good time!