tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-57247537991345524272024-03-13T15:17:43.558-05:00House of JulesHouse of Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14835978117451125796noreply@blogger.comBlogger421125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5724753799134552427.post-89989666886280210012011-11-07T06:16:00.009-06:002011-11-25T03:29:44.045-06:00Ernő Rubik, you are delicious!I kept telling <a href="http://suburbanscrawl.com/" target="_blank">my sister</a> that I was going to make her the Lionel Richie bust from his "Hello" video in cake form for her birthday:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QoER7f1Iwiw/TrfPi4b7XoI/AAAAAAAACYc/sCScAncEPqM/s1600/Lionel%2Bbust.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 310px; height: 231px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QoER7f1Iwiw/TrfPi4b7XoI/AAAAAAAACYc/sCScAncEPqM/s400/Lionel%2Bbust.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672230453868453506" /></a><br /><b> I was joking, of course, because I'm less Ace of Cakes and more Ace of Base.</b><br /><br />I did make her an unassuming looking cake from the outside with an 80's surprise on the inside, though. Seeing her face when she cut into it and realized that it was a Rubik's Cube was really fun! <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-uUhwh_vHYv0/TrfOLaMxXjI/AAAAAAAACX4/0_os5wuzK3I/s1600/Rubik%2Bcake%2B1%2BHOJ.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 276px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-uUhwh_vHYv0/TrfOLaMxXjI/AAAAAAAACX4/0_os5wuzK3I/s400/Rubik%2Bcake%2B1%2BHOJ.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672228951103200818" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oGfp7AN8tj4/TrfOLqlPH6I/AAAAAAAACYA/w__FFyAQTcM/s1600/Rubik%2Bcake%2B2%2BHOJ.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oGfp7AN8tj4/TrfOLqlPH6I/AAAAAAAACYA/w__FFyAQTcM/s400/Rubik%2Bcake%2B2%2BHOJ.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672228955500781474" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0plMD2-MODg/TrfOLvL7UGI/AAAAAAAACYM/4nvunC_WI_c/s1600/Rubik%2Bcake%2B3%2BHOJ.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0plMD2-MODg/TrfOLvL7UGI/AAAAAAAACYM/4nvunC_WI_c/s400/Rubik%2Bcake%2B3%2BHOJ.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672228956736802914" /></a><br /><br />Happy birthday, <a href="http://suburbanscrawl.com/" target="_blank">Missy</a>! <br /><br />****House of Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14835978117451125796noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5724753799134552427.post-35794921565776584582011-10-08T12:27:00.001-05:002012-03-22T23:02:58.535-05:00By the time you read this, I'll already be there.In 2008, I went with some BFFs on an annual October trip to Key West, Florida. You can read about that and my childhood (and continuing) love for a Bertie Higgins song by clicking <a href="http://bigpikchur.blogspot.com/2008/10/just-like-bogie-bacall.html" target="_blank"><b>HERE</b></a>.<br /><br />We had plans to do many things on the trip, meeting up with Irish Peter being at the top of the list. (In 2007, the girls made fast friends with Irish Peter--a nickname they bestowed upon him because his name is Peter and he is, in fact, Irish. He is also funny, charming, hot, a good time, has an accent and did I mention that he's hot?--who at the time was working as the bartender on the booze cruise they were boozin' it up on.) We went to a bar he was working at and all of the boxes on the list of reasons men make my heart race were checked off. We had a great time, and at some point in the night we were in the parking lot behind the bar so he could record my outgoing voicemail greeting. This greeting has confused and possibly irritated every straight guy who has ever called me, because the combination of Irish Peter's accent and the speed at which he's talking makes it difficult for people to understand. <b>Every female and gay guy who has ever called me has given it RAVE reviews, though. They usually say that they can't understand a thing he says but the accent makes it sexy anyway.</b> You should give it a listen:<br /><br /><object height="81" width="100%"> <param name="movie" value="http://player.soundcloud.com/player.swf?url=http%3A%2F%2Fapi.soundcloud.com%2Ftracks%2F25040052&show_comments=true&auto_play=false&color=c30009"></param> <param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param> <embed allowscriptaccess="always" height="81" src="http://player.soundcloud.com/player.swf?url=http%3A%2F%2Fapi.soundcloud.com%2Ftracks%2F25040052&show_comments=true&auto_play=false&color=c30009" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="100%"></embed> </object> <span><a href="http://soundcloud.com/houseofjules/vm-irish-peter-outgoing-vm">My outgoing voicemail greeting: Irish Peter</a> by <a href="http://soundcloud.com/houseofjules">HouseofJules</a></span><br /><br /><i>"How's it goin'? Jules isn't here right now; she's out in Key West picking some spuds and lookin' for me Lucky Charms. If you can leave a message, she'll be glad to get back to you as soon as she can. I'll be talkin' to ya and have a wonderful day!"</i><br /><br /><br />Friends have called me multiple times in a day just to hear that voicemail greeting.<br /><br /><br />I wasn't able to go on the trip with the girls this year, but my BFF Jen let Irish Peter use her phone because he was missing me <i>(duh)</i> and he also wanted to hear himself as my voicemail greeting. I had to switch it out for a generic greeting recently because I'm looking for a new job and don't want potential employers to hear him and assume they've gotten the wrong number! The message he left me is one for the books:<br /><br /><object height="81" width="100%"> <param name="movie" value="http://player.soundcloud.com/player.swf?url=http%3A%2F%2Fapi.soundcloud.com%2Ftracks%2F25040839&show_comments=true&auto_play=false&color=c30009"></param> <param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param> <embed allowscriptaccess="always" height="81" src="http://player.soundcloud.com/player.swf?url=http%3A%2F%2Fapi.soundcloud.com%2Ftracks%2F25040839&show_comments=true&auto_play=false&color=c30009" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="100%"></embed> </object> <span><a href="http://soundcloud.com/houseofjules/he-really">He REALLY is a gift</a> by <a href="http://soundcloud.com/houseofjules">HouseofJules</a></span><br /><br /><i>"Jules, I'm kinda sad. I was expecting to hear myself in your phone! We're calling you here from Key West; you might recognize my voice! Happy birthday! Apparently, we have your birthday present here. <b><big>I'm wrapped up in a bow; you've gotta come down and get me...</big></b>"</i><br /><br />(It's so funny hearing my girls "Oh my God!"-ing as he hands Jen's phone back to her. So. Funny.)<br /><br />I made the mistake of listening to that message at work, and then I listened to it again. And again (and again). Wrapped in a bow? Come down and get you? YES, PLEASE.<br /><br /><br />Then, I switched from the generic outgoing greeting I was using to the one he recorded with me, just so he could call back and hear it. This is his reaction:<br /><br /><object height="81" width="100%"> <param name="movie" value="http://player.soundcloud.com/player.swf?url=http%3A%2F%2Fapi.soundcloud.com%2Ftracks%2F25041036&show_comments=true&auto_play=false&color=c30009"></param> <param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param> <embed allowscriptaccess="always" height="81" src="http://player.soundcloud.com/player.swf?url=http%3A%2F%2Fapi.soundcloud.com%2Ftracks%2F25041036&show_comments=true&auto_play=false&color=c30009" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="100%"></embed> </object> <span><a href="http://soundcloud.com/houseofjules/irish-peter-critiquing-irish">Rosetta Stone</a> by <a href="http://soundcloud.com/houseofjules">HouseofJules</a></span><br /><br /><i>"You need to put subtitles on your message, 'cause <b>I</b> can't even understand that and <b>I</b> actually said it! I need to get <a href="http://www.rosettastone.com/learn-english" target="_blank">Rosetta Stone</a> and get my english a little better there. I'm having technical difficulties! Thanks for putting it back on, you're the best!"</i><br /><br /><br />Funny, charming, hot, a good time, hot, has an accent, is wrapped in a bow for my birthday and all I have to do is go get him? Twist my arm.<br /><br />Happy birthday to me, indeed.<br /><br />****House of Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14835978117451125796noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5724753799134552427.post-8069090659698757252011-09-11T07:41:00.000-05:002011-09-11T07:41:13.690-05:00Hell, I still love you New YorkIf you were looking at a CT scan of my heart, this is what you'd see:<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/R6f8oxmloCI/AAAAAAAAAyY/x9KEc6BChLk/s400-h/WTCBKLYNBRDG2SM.jpg"><img style="CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5163373275243716642" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/R6f8oxmloCI/AAAAAAAAAyY/x9KEc6BChLk/s400/WTCBKLYNBRDG2SM.jpg" /></a><br /><small><i>Photo ©HouseofJules</i></small><br /><br /><br />On a sunny afternoon at the beginning of summer in the mid-90's, alone (in the sense of being by yourself in a place with 7 million other people, which is possibly more alone than you could ever imagine), but excited after having relocated to the place in which I wanted to live ever since I was a kid; fresh off the train in the underground part of Penn Station, doing a trial run to see how long it would take me to get from my new apartment to my new job in my new city. I had a map in my back pocket and knew the address of the graphic design firm I was to start working at the following week, but had no idea how to get myself from where I was to where I needed to be.<br /><br />All the anticipatory stress I felt about that had been weighing heavily on my mind since I'd unpacked the week before--if not for the entirety of the 6 months I worked after college just to save up for my big move to my new apartment in my new city-- faded away like white noise in the background as I rode one of the escalators up from lower earth to the sidewalk, and the gigantic skyscrapers on 34th street were revealed to me at a slow-boat-to-China rate of speed; my line of vision directed first at their massive entryways, and going up, up, up, and up, trying to take in all the floors of the buildings and the realization of how small I was in comparison, as I was lifted towards street-level. <br /><br />It was forced acclimation through sensory overload.<br /><br />I was able to be still, standing on the right side of those electric stairs, while moving upward and gaping at the buildings, smelling the food being cooked at street carts, hearing the roar of traffic and horns, people hustling and bustling; <b>while my heart was thumping louder than ever, welcoming me home. <i>Finally.</i></b><br /><br />Some people leave their hearts in San Francisco. <b>Even before I actually lived there, mine resided in New York.</b><br /><br />If you were listening to my heartbeat through a stethoscope, this song is what you'd hear:<br /><br /><i><b><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hmHgY_J63Ik" target="_blank">Ryan Adams. New York, New York</a></b><br /><small>Well, I shuffled through the city on the 4th of July<br />I had a firecracker waiting to blow<br />Breakin' like a rocket who was makin' its way<br />To the cities of Mexico<br />Lived in an apartment out on Avenue A<br />I had a tar-hut on the corner of 10th<br />Had myself a lover who was finer than gold<br />But I've broken up and busted up since<br /><br />And love don't play any games with me<br />Anymore like she did before<br />The world won't wait, so I better shake<br />That thing right out there through the door<br />Hell, I still love you, New York<br /><br />Found myself a picture that would fit in the folds<br />Of my wallet and it stayed pretty good<br />Still amazed I didn't lose it on the roof of the place<br />When I was drunk and I was thinking of you<br />Every day the children they were singing their tune<br />Out on the streets and you could hear from inside<br />Used to take the subway up to Houston and 3rd<br />I would wait for you and I'd try to hide<br /><br />And love won't play any games with you<br />Anymore if you don't want it to<br />The world won't wait and I watched you shake<br />But honey, I don't blame you<br />Hell, I still love you, New York<br />New York<br /><br />I remember Christmas in the blistering cold<br />In a church on the upper west side<br />Babe, I stood there singing, I was holding your arm<br />You were holding my trust like a child<br />Found a lot of trouble out on Avenue B<br />But I tried to keep the overhead low<br />Farewell to the city and the love of my life<br />At least we left before we had to go<br /><br />And love won't play any games with you<br />Anymore if you don't want 'em to<br />So we better shake this old thing out the door<br /><br />I'll always be thinkin' of you<br />I'll always love you though New York<br />I'll always love you though New York, New York, New York</small></i><br /><br />-<br /><br />Luckily, I made some <a href="http://bigpikchur.blogspot.com/2008/02/shes-love-child-of-demi-moore-and.html" target="_blank">g </a><a href="http://bigpikchur.blogspot.com/2008/02/brooklyn-bridge-central-park-and-even.html" target="_blank">r </a><a href="http://bigpikchur.blogspot.com/2007/04/happy-birthday-zippy.html" target="_blank">e </a><a href="http://bigpikchur.blogspot.com/2008/05/its-time-for-your-spankings-mr.html" target="_blank">a </a><a href="http://bigpikchur.blogspot.com/2008/04/you-are-literally-sunshine-of-my-life.html" target="_blank">t</a> friends there who give me an excuse, if I need one, to visit my heart at least once a year.<br /><br />****House of Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14835978117451125796noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5724753799134552427.post-73814638632616304662011-08-17T10:04:00.014-05:002011-08-17T10:04:00.099-05:00Putting the Hump in Humpday: Yiddish Edish<span class="Apple-style-span">Ryan Gosling is <i>everything</i></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;">*</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span">. Need I say more? I think not.
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<br />But, I will anyway.
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<br />You either very much agree with me that he is <i>everything</i> or you don't</span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;">*</span></b><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;">*</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span">. I'm not going to sit here and try to sell you on Ryan Gosling. In his latest movie, "Crazy, Stupid, Love" (or as I call it, "Crazy, Stupid, Hot Ass Love"), he uses a certain Yiddish word several times. Each time, it sounds natural, as if it's part of his everyday vocabulary. He totally pulls it off. You can trust me on this because I've seen the movie twice already (and I did it <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IUzAjkj3rH8" target="_blank"><b>FOR MY COUNTRY</b></a><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;">*</span></b><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;">*</span></b><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;">*</span></b>).
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<br />Related:
<br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-j8zt1KGBYow/Tks6ymdo_zI/AAAAAAAACWo/i8cQEUEv154/s1600/schvantz-A.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 181px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-j8zt1KGBYow/Tks6ymdo_zI/AAAAAAAACWo/i8cQEUEv154/s400/schvantz-A.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641667599204417330" /></a>
<br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HmyAERF_TAc/Tks7CEolO6I/AAAAAAAACXA/bqa52p7HMGA/s1600/schvantz-D.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 164px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HmyAERF_TAc/Tks7CEolO6I/AAAAAAAACXA/bqa52p7HMGA/s400/schvantz-D.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641667865001409442" /></a>
<br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WYcvzi5DIpE/Tks7BeinlZI/AAAAAAAACWw/6ZiEoNhRAj8/s1600/schvantz-b.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 181px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WYcvzi5DIpE/Tks7BeinlZI/AAAAAAAACWw/6ZiEoNhRAj8/s400/schvantz-b.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641667854775850386" /></a>
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<br /><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;">*</span></b>Not EVERYTHING-everything. Just <i>everything</i>. You know what I'm saying.
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<br /><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;">*</span></b><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;">*</span></b>Admittedly, Ryan Gosling isn't for everyone:
<br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-12xhKU7nyts/Tks7B_zyXYI/AAAAAAAACW4/mhv6aSOp1wI/s1600/schvantz-C.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 181px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-12xhKU7nyts/Tks7B_zyXYI/AAAAAAAACW4/mhv6aSOp1wI/s400/schvantz-C.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641667863706230146" /></a></span>
<br /><span class="Apple-style-span"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;">*</span></b><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;">*</span></b><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;">*</span></b>Please, please click that hotlink. You won't be sorry.
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<br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">
<br /></span></b><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">To read previous </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Putting the Hump in Humpday</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"> posts, click </span><a href="http://bigpikchur.blogspot.com/search/label/Putting%20the%20hump%20in%20humpday" target="_blank"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">HERE</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">. Do it for your country.</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"></span></div>
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<br />Here's the "Crazy, Stupid, Hot Ass Love" trailer in case you've been living under a rock:
<br /><iframe width="560" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/VF9MmdbU760" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe>
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<br />****</span>House of Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14835978117451125796noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5724753799134552427.post-92049546230695709992011-06-18T09:16:00.016-05:002011-06-18T10:08:49.042-05:00Gentlemen, to bed!I love anyone who can make me laugh my face off, and Steve Coogan is one of those people. If you don't know who Steve Coogan is, but you enjoy British humor, you should get busy acquainting yourself with everything he's ever done. He's currently making the rounds doing interviews for <a href="http://trailers.apple.com/trailers/independent/thetrip/" target="_blank"><b>The Trip</b></a>, his film with Rob Brydon made from their improvised BBC show of the same name, starring fictionalized versions of themselves. <br /><br />Here is a brief description from the wiki page:<br /><blockquote><i>"In an effort to impress his gourmand American girlfriend, Misha, Steve Coogan has accepted a commission from The Observer newspaper to go on a restaurant tour of the north of England. However, when Misha (who was meant to accompany him on the trip) insists that they take a break from their relationship and returns to America, Steve is forced to invite colleague and friend-of-sorts Rob Brydon.<br />Throughout the series the two constantly bicker and attempt to undermine and outdo each other, especially in the presence of any attractive women they encounter. Steve has a number of one-night stands but is increasingly revealed to be in a rut both professionally and personally: at one point – as Steve gets stuck attempting to cross a river using a series of stepping stones – Rob shouts out to him, "You're stuck in a metaphor!"<br />The competitive atmosphere between the two is occasionally broken by passages of amicable and spontaneous comic improvisation, with each riffing off the other's ideas."</i></blockquote><br /><br />I tweeted this after hearing Steve interviewed on NPR:<br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-E9VPhyzTQQY/TfyzZ0-ejEI/AAAAAAAACT4/ckJazncthy0/s1600/CooganTheTrip.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 132px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-E9VPhyzTQQY/TfyzZ0-ejEI/AAAAAAAACT4/ckJazncthy0/s400/CooganTheTrip.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5619563691350330434" /></a><br /><br />I was at work when this interview aired, so it was both incredible and awful to laugh like that at my desk, especially since the main part of our office is open-plan. I literally started sweating from laughing so hard. Imagine my delight and surprise when I found the exact clip on YouTube. Thanks, internet! Now I can share it with you here! Watch this immediately:<br /><br /><iframe width="425" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/DjZ_Mmjs3bc" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe><br /><br /><blockquote><i>"They always say something like, Gentlemen, to bed! For we leave at first light. Tomorrow we battle and we may lose our lives. But remember, death is but a moment. Cowardice is a lifetime of affliction. To bed, for we rise at daybreak! They always leave at daybreak. They never leave at, you know, 9:30. Gentlemen, to bed! For we leave at 9:30. Ish. Gentlemen, to bed, for we rise at...what time is the battle? Around 12 o'clock? 12 o'clock, on horseback? About 3 hours? So, we leave about 8? 8:30? Gentlemen, to bed! For we leave at 8:30, for 9. And we rise at...just after daybreak...7:30. Gentlemen, to bed! For we leave at 9:30 ON THE DOT. ON THE DOT. To bed! Tomorrow, we rise, we leave at 10-ish. But now, to bed. Unless, you are one of those people, like me, who finds it very hard to get off after he's eaten cheese. In which case, stay awhile by the fire! Talk of battles past and old. And then, and only then sire, go thee to bed, and sleep well. Sleep the sleep of 1,000 martyrs. Sleep well, my brother. Sleep well, my brother. Sleep well, my sister. But please, do not sleep with my sister. Leave my sister out of it, alright? Leave my sister alone. Don't touch her! Gentlemen, to bed! For at daybreak, we will breakfast. Sire, 'tis a continental breakfast. It will only take 20 minutes max...."</i><br /></blockquote><br /><br />I mean, I can't even breathe because I'm laughing too hard and I've watched this clip 10 times in the past 2 days. Love. Since I've never seen the show and didn't even KNOW it was a show until <a href="http://twitter.com/jawiltshire" target="_blank">Josh</a> informed me (thanks, Wilty!), I'm counting the minutes until I see this movie. <br /><br />Here's the official trailer:<br /><iframe width="425" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/abzW3Lu3xpg" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe><br /><i>When they have the Michael Caine impression-off, I cry laughing. When Coogan does his Alan Partridge "Ah haaaa!", I die. If you like Brit humor, but have never seen his Alan Partridge series, get on it.</i><br />****House of Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14835978117451125796noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5724753799134552427.post-75691616853423364512011-06-17T00:10:00.011-05:002011-06-17T00:25:27.626-05:00To let him go, wherever he needs to go<b>...but not spend spend the rest of my life waiting for his lips to return.</b><br /><br /><iframe width="504" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/0qdMqlKjjZU" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe><br /><br /><i>"I wish the answers were in a relationship book. I wish reading that book would be all that I needed."</i><br />****House of Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14835978117451125796noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5724753799134552427.post-70598135579559056242011-03-26T19:37:00.004-05:002011-03-26T23:50:03.829-05:00Psssst!Until I get back in the swing of full-form blogging, you can read what I've been writing at my secret spot by clicking <a href="http://casajules.tumblr.com/" target="_blank"><b>HERE</b></a>. There's already 50-something posts over there! You didn't want to get any work done today anyway, right?<br /><br />****House of Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14835978117451125796noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5724753799134552427.post-14211731258529253812010-12-22T10:45:00.003-06:002012-07-06T14:27:05.030-05:00Open up your heart and I'll set you freeIn 1990, my dad handed down his beloved land yacht, otherwise known as the Oldsmobile Ninety-Eight (which he'd purchased brand new in 1981). It was my junior year of high school and I had a busy schedule between school, work, and soccer. The first thing I did was to replace the 8-track stereo with a cassette player, <i>thankyouverymuch</i>. Other than that, the car was perfect. It had plenty of room for all of my friends, rode like a dream and once you learn to parallel park a 1981 Olds Ninety-Eight, you can parallel park ANYTHING. I swear, that thing was longer than a limousine <i>(that's what she said)</i>. <br />
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I even had personalized plates that I've kept to this day, though they're in a box, not on my current car. I will save that story for another time because if you don't know me personally, it's kind of embarrassing, if points of pride can be embarrassing. Especially since my dad suggested it. Next time you buy me drinks, I'll tell you the story, okay? We'll make it a win-win situation.<br />
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Anyway, I must show you a couple of random pictures I found through a quick online search so you can really understand my love for this beauty:<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/TRII8vOxgcI/AAAAAAAACSc/ty1-XPPeBR4/s1600/Olds98%2B1.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553511130064847298" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/TRII8vOxgcI/AAAAAAAACSc/ty1-XPPeBR4/s400/Olds98%2B1.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 212px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
<small><i>My Olds had 4 doors so it was even LONGER than the one pictured, but you get the idea. </i></small><br />
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The interior was plush, baby. I'm talking, nicer than some of the furniture we all grew up with. Check it:<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/TRII81gdqLI/AAAAAAAACSk/wTg_4P-MSD0/s1600/Olds98%2B2.jpeg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553511131749656754" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/TRII81gdqLI/AAAAAAAACSk/wTg_4P-MSD0/s400/Olds98%2B2.jpeg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 225px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 300px;" /></a><br />
<small><i>Awww yeah...</i></small><br />
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This car was built for loud music, and I took full advantage of that new cassette-playing stereo. I've always had a broad spectrum of musical taste, but for about 2 months during the summer after graduation, I played this tape non-stop:<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/TRIFhiuwD0I/AAAAAAAACSU/c4aMYxSY0JI/s1600/album-color-me-badd-cmb.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553507364317957954" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/TRIFhiuwD0I/AAAAAAAACSU/c4aMYxSY0JI/s400/album-color-me-badd-cmb.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 300px; margin: 0 300px 10px 0; width: 301px;" /></a><br />
<small><i>Color Me Badd's "C.M.B.", a 1991 musical opus.</i></small><br />
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I have a steel trap memory for just about everything in my life, including things people have told me about themselves. The tiniest of details get stuck in my brain and it's fun to freak out friends by pulling some fun fact out that they don't even remember telling anybody. It's also good for blackmail and song lyrics. So, to this day I still remember every word of the songs on that C.M.B. tape. Of course I have it on my iTunes, so they still pop up on shuffle and always make me smile. <br />
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This time of year, there are a lot of holiday parties which many times have karaoke. If Color Me Badd songs are available, that is what I'll pick. <b>Every time</b>. Specifically, my personal favorite: "I Wanna Sex You Up". Frankly, I don't even need the karaoke excuse. My friends (especially Jenny) can vouch for the fact that I've often broken into this song during approximately 12,784 of our phone conversations.<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/kO6BtpIzIiM" width="560"></iframe><br />
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Related: One of my Facebook statuses from last September, with <a href="http://bigpikchur.blogspot.com/2009/09/cherry-rides-off-into-sunset-but-is.html" target="_blank"><b>my boo Will</b></a> chiming in:<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/TRHvt1FIjZI/AAAAAAAACSM/1cWtsFH1FOA/s1600/ColorMeBadd3.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553483386146295186" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/TRHvt1FIjZI/AAAAAAAACSM/1cWtsFH1FOA/s400/ColorMeBadd3.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 103px; margin: 0 200px 10px 0; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
<small><i>Truth.</i></small><br />
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<b><big>All I'm saying is, you've been warned:</big></b><br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/TRHlFQMG03I/AAAAAAAACRs/ijxfvnF9SIg/s1600/ColorMeBadd1.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553471693932385138" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/TRHlFQMG03I/AAAAAAAACRs/ijxfvnF9SIg/s400/ColorMeBadd1.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 145px; margin: 0 200px 50px 0; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/TRHlPb8-u-I/AAAAAAAACR0/aNWl0hJqN3g/s1600/ColorMeBadd2.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553471868888857570" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/TRHlPb8-u-I/AAAAAAAACR0/aNWl0hJqN3g/s400/ColorMeBadd2.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 139px; margin: 0 200px 50px 0; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
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Click <a href="http://twitter.com/houseofjules" target="_blank"><b>HERE</b></a> to follow me on Twitter, fool!<br />
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****House of Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14835978117451125796noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5724753799134552427.post-81741732590079952552010-11-01T23:50:00.002-05:002010-11-02T04:06:02.857-05:00You'll never get the paw prints out of the hen house now<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">...aaaaand </span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">THIS</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> is why </span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">OK Go & dogs</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> will always win over </span><b><u><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">anything</span></i></u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> & cats</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">.<br /></span><br /><object width="480" height="295"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/nHlJODYBLKs?fs=1&hl=en_US&color1=0x5d1719&color2=0xcd311b"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/nHlJODYBLKs?fs=1&hl=en_US&color1=0x5d1719&color2=0xcd311b" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="295"></embed></object><br /><br /><b>White Knuckles</b><br /><i>You'll never get that taste, out of your mouth<br />You'll never get the paw prints, out of the hen house now<br />And you can't go back, same way you came<br />Round all the pieces up, but they just dont fit the same<br /><br />White knuckles<br />Maybe it's not so bad<br />So let your hair down now<br /><br />White knuckles<br />Yeah, maybe it's not so bad<br />Aww, go ahead and let it down<br /><br />So come and let it all out, let it bleed<br />Did you get what you want? Did you get what you need?<br />Behind the lines, behind the wall<br />Tell me what's the bet you made, was it that bad after all?<br /><br />White knuckles<br />Yeah, maybe it's not so bad<br />So let your hair down now<br /><br />White knuckles<br />Aww, maybe it's not so bad<br />Just let it all come down now<br /><br />So just have fun, it's far enough<br />Everybody needs to sleep at night, everybody needs a crutch<br />But couldn't good, be good enough?<br />Cause nothin' ever doesn't change but nothin' changes much<br /><br />Yeah, maybe it's not so bad<br />So let your hair down now<br /><br />White knuckles<br />Aww, maybe it's not so bad<br />Just let it all come down now</i><br /><br /><br />More OK Go awesomeness <a href="http://bigpikchur.blogspot.com/2010/03/rube-goldberg-machine-marching-band-ok.html" target="_blank">HERE</a>.<br /><br />****House of Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14835978117451125796noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5724753799134552427.post-38768033114521992872010-09-11T10:54:00.002-05:002010-09-11T11:01:33.270-05:00Hell, I still love you New YorkIf you were looking at a CT scan of my heart, this is what you'd see:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/R6f8oxmloCI/AAAAAAAAAyY/x9KEc6BChLk/s400-h/WTCBKLYNBRDG2SM.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/R6f8oxmloCI/AAAAAAAAAyY/x9KEc6BChLk/s400/WTCBKLYNBRDG2SM.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5163373275243716642" /></a><br /><small><i>Photo ©HouseofJules</i></small><br /><br /><br />On a sunny afternoon at the beginning of summer in the mid-90's, alone (in the sense of being by yourself in a place with 7 million other people, which is possibly more alone than you could ever imagine), but excited after having relocated to the place in which I wanted to live ever since I was a kid; fresh off the train in the underground part of Penn Station, doing a trial run to see how long it would take me to get from my new apartment to my new job in my new city. I had a map in my back pocket and knew the address of the graphic design firm I was to start working at the following week, but literally had no idea how to get myself from where I was to where I needed to be.<br /><br />All the anticipatory stress I felt about that had been weighing heavily on my mind since I'd unpacked the week before--if not for the entirety of the 6 months I worked after college just to save up for my big move to my new apartment in my new city-- faded away like white noise in the background as I rode one of the escalators up from lower earth to the sidewalk, and the gigantic skyscrapers on 34th street were revealed to me at a slow-boat-to-China rate of speed; my line of vision directed first at their massive entryways, and going up, up, up, and up, trying to take in all the floors of the buildings and the realization of how small I was in comparison, as I was lifted towards street-level. It was a kind of forced-acclimation through sensory overload.<br /><br />I was able to be still, standing on the right side of those electric stairs, while moving upward and gaping at the buildings, smelling the food being cooked at street carts, hearing the roar of traffic and horns, people hustling and bustling; <b>while my heart was thumping louder than ever, welcoming me home. <i>Finally.</i></b><br /><br />Some people leave their hearts in San Francisco. <b>Even before I actually lived there, mine resided in New York.</b><br /><br />If you were listening to my heartbeat through a stethoscope, this song is what you'd hear:<br /><br /><i><b><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hmHgY_J63Ik" target="_blank">Ryan Adams. New York, New York</a></b><br /><small>Well, I shuffled through the city on the 4th of July<br />I had a firecracker waiting to blow<br />Breakin' like a rocket who was makin' its way<br />To the cities of Mexico<br />Lived in an apartment out on Avenue A<br />I had a tar-hut on the corner of 10th<br />Had myself a lover who was finer than gold<br />But I've broken up and busted up since<br /><br />And love don't play any games with me<br />Anymore like she did before<br />The world won't wait, so I better shake<br />That thing right out there through the door<br />Hell, I still love you, New York<br /><br />Found myself a picture that would fit in the folds<br />Of my wallet and it stayed pretty good<br />Still amazed I didn't lose it on the roof of the place<br />When I was drunk and I was thinking of you<br />Every day the children they were singing their tune<br />Out on the streets and you could hear from inside<br />Used to take the subway up to Houston and 3rd<br />I would wait for you and I'd try to hide<br /><br />And love won't play any games with you<br />Anymore if you don't want it to<br />The world won't wait and I watched you shake<br />But honey, I don't blame you<br />Hell, I still love you, New York<br />New York<br /><br />I remember Christmas in the blistering cold<br />In a church on the upper west side<br />Babe, I stood there singing, I was holding your arm<br />You were holding my trust like a child<br />Found a lot of trouble out on Avenue B<br />But I tried to keep the overhead low<br />Farewell to the city and the love of my life<br />At least we left before we had to go<br /><br />And love won't play any games with you<br />Anymore if you don't want 'em to<br />So we better shake this old thing out the door<br /><br />I'll always be thinkin' of you<br />I'll always love you though New York<br />I'll always love you though New York, New York, New York</small></i><br /><br />-<br /><br />Luckily, I made some <a href="http://bigpikchur.blogspot.com/2008/02/shes-love-child-of-demi-moore-and.html" target="_blank">g </a><a href="http://bigpikchur.blogspot.com/2008/02/brooklyn-bridge-central-park-and-even.html" target="_blank">r </a><a href="http://bigpikchur.blogspot.com/2007/04/happy-birthday-zippy.html" target="_blank">e </a><a href="http://bigpikchur.blogspot.com/2008/05/its-time-for-your-spankings-mr.html" target="_blank">a </a><a href="http://bigpikchur.blogspot.com/2008/04/you-are-literally-sunshine-of-my-life.html" target="_blank">t</a> friends there who give me an excuse, if I need one, to visit my heart at least once a year.<br /><br />****House of Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14835978117451125796noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5724753799134552427.post-40020491913351778162010-08-29T09:30:00.008-05:002010-08-29T09:53:41.247-05:00The Doctor Is In!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/THpwsEGjpNI/AAAAAAAACQw/2fM1w1dNm_o/s1600/Picture+32.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 244px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/THpwsEGjpNI/AAAAAAAACQw/2fM1w1dNm_o/s400/Picture+32.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510840996359021778" /></a><br /><br />Late last night, I found out about Swatch's "Dr. Swatch" promotion:<br /><br /><b>Visit your local Swatch store for a complimentary Swatch checkup from the Swatch Docs. <br />During the Dr. Swatch event at Swatch, the Swatch Docs will perform:<br />Free battery changes • Free strap adjustments • Free buffing </b><br /><br />I have an original red POP Swatch (that I bought with my own money <i>thankyouverymuch</i> and another regular Swatch from '89. It still smells like my high school boyfriend's cologne, which sounds weirder than it actually is. When we started dating, I wore his football jacket, his class ring AND HIS SWATCH WATCH. When we broke up, I gave back the first 2 and kept the watch. Oh yes, I did. I knew what time it was, if you know what I'm saying & I think you do.<br /><br />I've had these Swatches tucked away in the place I have all of my other watches & jewelry (which there isn't much left of after an apartment break-in 10 years ago out east, which is another story for another day) and haven't taken them out of their little boxes in EONS. That is, not until very late last night, as I was squealing with excitement. I've wanted to revive my POP Swatch for awhile, but always found a better use for the $15 battery cost.<br /><br />My procrastination in this case is paying off! Free batteries, free band adjustments & free buffing! Heading out the door now. I'll post an update with pictures later!<br /><br /><b>Today is the last day for this promotion, so if you have Swatches tucked away somewhere, break those mothereffers out and take them to Dr. Swatch!</b><br /><br />****House of Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14835978117451125796noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5724753799134552427.post-62286378831589666682010-08-14T11:16:00.008-05:002010-08-14T11:36:50.397-05:00These guys sure like ice cream!<object width="480" height="360"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/tXXZpr8YlSI?fs=1&hl=en_US&color1=0x5d1719&color2=0xcd311b&border=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/tXXZpr8YlSI?fs=1&hl=en_US&color1=0x5d1719&color2=0xcd311b&border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="360"></embed></object><br /><small><i>Don't miss the xylophone cameo!</i></small><br /><br /><blockquote><i>"Relax when you see me, check it when you see me. I'm chillin' with an iced tea, watermelon icees." {wink}</i></blockquote><div><br /></div><div>I'm not gonna lie; I watched this 3 times... but that was only because I <b>really</b> like xylophones<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;">*</span></b>.<br /><br /><div><br /><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;">*</span></b>What?! I'm VERY MUCH musically-inclined.<br /><br />****</div></div>House of Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14835978117451125796noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5724753799134552427.post-58604771865905994512010-08-13T10:30:00.007-05:002010-08-14T11:18:11.364-05:00"You know that thing we've been working on for awhile now?"Have you seen this totally predictable iPhone commercial?<br /><br /><object width="480" height="360"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/vXp3UwQxcwc?fs=1&hl=en_US&color1=0x5d1719&color2=0xcd311b&border=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/vXp3UwQxcwc?fs=1&hl=en_US&color1=0x5d1719&color2=0xcd311b&border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="360"></embed></object><br /><br />Ugh, gag. Two seconds into the first time I saw it, I knew what she was calling him about. I held my breath until the end, though... thinking about how clever it would be if she wasn't calling to tell him she's pregnant, but because <b><i>she finished the World's Most Difficult Jigsaw Puzzle</i></b>.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/TGTUDsCtDOI/AAAAAAAACQQ/pT4TQZSWWUE/s1600/MostDiffPuzzle.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 345px; height: 346px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/TGTUDsCtDOI/AAAAAAAACQQ/pT4TQZSWWUE/s400/MostDiffPuzzle.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5504757804380785890" /></a><br /><br /><b>Apple needs to start consulting me on their advertising campaigns. Advertising, design, marketing. It's what I do<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;">*</span>.</b><br /><br /><br /><br /><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;">*</span></b>I work hard for the money, so hard for you honey.<br /><br />****House of Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14835978117451125796noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5724753799134552427.post-39790416226497834322010-07-14T11:42:00.002-05:002011-06-03T10:30:18.744-05:00Putting the Hump in Humpday: Here's to Javier Bardem's body of work; and well, his body.Late last night one of my friends emailed me a link with the message, <i>"I'm so sorry to break this to you!"</i> I gulped and then clicked on the link, which was the news that <small>(one of)</small> my lovah<small>(s)</small>, Javier Bardem, married Penelope Cruz. As soon as I read the headline, I actually said, <i>"OH NOOOOOOOOO!"</i> out loud. I really did. Obviously, Javier has been a victim of poor timing. Had he met ME first, Penelope wouldn't even be a blip on his radar. Ah, such is life. Poor Javi.<br /><br />Somewhere in my drafts is not-yet-published post on the night I saw <b>Vicky Cristina Barcelona</b>. That will be a post for another day; it's taken me awhile to recover. SO. HOT.<br /><br />A few days ago, I read that he'll be guest-starring on <b>Glee</b> next season. This was hilarious to all of my "Gleek" friends because I told them at the end of last season that Glee was dead to me unless, say, someone like Javier was on the show. I never actually thought he'd be on there, but there you go. Put something out into the universe & it can happen, it really can.<br /><br />In light of the recent Bardem news, I thought it was a great time to bring back this post... especially because today is Wednesday. Enjoy! I do. ;)<br /><br />.....<br /><br />There's only one man who could get away with saying, "Usted va me deja tener mi manera con usted porque soy el hombre más caliente vivo." <small>(You're going to let me have my way with you because I'm the hottest man alive)</small>, and that man is Javier Bardem. He's never said that to me, but only because it goes without saying. Because it's only delaying the inevitable so let's just get to it, shall we? <i>The humpday post, I mean.</i><br /><br />In 2004, I saw the movie <i>"Mar Adentro"</i> <small>(The Sea Inside)</small>; based on the real-life story of Ramón Sampedro, a Spanish ship mechanic left quadriplegic after a diving accident, who fought a 28-year campaign in support of euthanasia and his right to end his own life. I fell for Javier Bardem immediately because of his stellar performance in this movie. Yes, it was his <u>ACTING</u> that got me. Seriously. No, really. This is proven by the fact that for most of the movie he looked like this:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/SBl1s7HDn7I/AAAAAAAABBU/gciq9iqTBJE/s1600-h/mar-adentro-dvd.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/SBl1s7HDn7I/AAAAAAAABBU/gciq9iqTBJE/s200/mar-adentro-dvd.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195313059790561202" /></a><br /><i>Javier Bardem as Ramón Sampedro. An old man with kind eyes, totally huggable in that sweater; but definitely not sexy.</i><br /><br /><br />I was captivated by him right away, and made a mental note to rent some of his other films. I thought, "He's old so he must have a ton of movies under his belt". Keep in mind that this was 2004, before everyone on the planet knew him by name, or by face for that matter. When the flashback scene of the diving accident came on, showing what Javier Bardem REALLY looked like (and what was supposed to be Sampedro's character as a young man), I just about lost my mind. You crazy film industry makeup departments! You tricked me! This man is actually smokin' hot in real life, and for about 5 minutes in this movie they let him show it:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/SBl_r7HDn8I/AAAAAAAABBc/N7wNgV9nGuc/s1600-h/JaviDROOL.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/SBl_r7HDn8I/AAAAAAAABBc/N7wNgV9nGuc/s320/JaviDROOL.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195324037726969794" /></a><br /><i>Since I couldn't find the diving scene on YouTube, I opted for this shot from the movie's official website. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some screen licking to do. HEY-OHHH!</i><br /><br /><br />That was how my Javier <s>fixation</s> appreciation began. A few months ago, I finally decided to watch every JB movie I hadn't already seen. I looked up his "resume", which to my delight reads mostly like details from a steamy novel:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/SBgZEbHDn3I/AAAAAAAABA0/ET_OeSkhPsA/s1600-h/javi+movies.jpg" target="_blank"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/SBgZEbHDn3I/AAAAAAAABA0/ET_OeSkhPsA/s400/javi+movies.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5194929733959393138" /></a><br /><i>Click to enlarge. As you can see by the numbers, I cut out the films that didn't fit in with the sexy theme (for illustrative purposes only. I did WATCH the movies that were without sexy titles in addition to these!) They're all a pretty stunning testament to "taking your work home with you". <b>Rather, taking HIS work home with ME</b>. The only one of this list I haven't seen yet (because Netflix doesn't have it) is "Jamon, Jamon", which directly translated is "Ham, Ham". Judging by the <u>18 & over</u> trailer I found on YouTube, it might as well be called <b>"Pork, Pork"</b>. No joke. I won't link to it here but do the search on YouTube and find out for yourself. <b>Also no joke? Me, seeing that movie, even if I have to buy it.</b> </i><br /><br /><br />One of my photography teachers adopted a saying that has stuck with me since college: <i>"When your work speaks for itself, don't interrupt"</i>. I have been delaying this Hump of the Month post not only so I could watch as many Javier Bardem movies as possible (you know, for <i>research purposes</i>; I'm nothing if not thorough!) but also because I wanted it to be all-encompassing.<b> I wanted it to do Javier's superb <i>"body of work"</i> equally as much justice as I wanted to <i>"do justice"</i> to his <i>"superb body"</i>; if you know what I'm sayin' and I think you do.</b><br /><br />In addition, I wanted this to be informative, not a fluff piece meant only for people to drool all over their keyboards while staring at photos like this one:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/SBgZErHDn4I/AAAAAAAABA8/-6nUZwOymKs/s1600-h/JaviCigar.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/SBgZErHDn4I/AAAAAAAABA8/-6nUZwOymKs/s400/JaviCigar.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5194929738254360450" /></a><br /><i>I would roll around in hot cigar ashes with him anytime.</i><br /><br /><br />At one point I even told a friend that I wanted to do a synopsis and review of all 20 JB movies I've seen, but I'm pretty sure I made that insane declaration in the middle of watching his thriller, <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=75-Z8jw3PPM" target="_blank"><i>Between Your Legs</i></a>; and by the end of that movie--with it's jaw-droppingly shocking twist-- I realized that I was a FOOL to think I could easily sum up the complexity that is Javier and his chameleon-like acting. My summation for each of his movies, without going into great detail, would sound something like this: <i>"He blows away the competition, you should definitely see everything he's ever been in. While you're doing that, I'm going to be over here licking my TV. Look away, look away I tell you!"</i>; and that's just not helpful to anybody. Since his work speaks for itself, who am I to interrupt?<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/SA7TibHDnlI/AAAAAAAAA-A/5cmEs2Xbj5Y/s1600-h/wenn5095240.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/SA7TibHDnlI/AAAAAAAAA-A/5cmEs2Xbj5Y/s320/wenn5095240.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5192320008751128146" /></a><br /><i>He deserved winning the Oscar for his performance in No Country for Old Men. Don't watch it at 7a.m. on a lazy Saturday like I did, though. It's a little too early in the day for that kind of murderous rampaging.</i><br /><br /><br />It has been really interesting to see his movies in order of their release date; to confirm that he is a really great actor and not just a pretty face with a hot body and an intoxicating accent to boot (universe, if you're listening, please send him to my doorstep ASAP). He has done such a variety of work and really commits to his character that it was never boring. Even if it had been boring, his looks would save him; but he never has to rely on that. There's just not a downside to watching the work of someone who qualifies as The Hump of the Month, trust me. <div><br /></div><div>Some of you aren't big on the subtitles thing, and to that I say, <s>SCREW THE SUBTITLES, HE'S HOT, WATCH HIM ANYWAY</s> he is in plenty of english-language movies, so check those out.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/SBgZELHDn2I/AAAAAAAABAs/1A2m1fh7KZo/s1600-h/Go+Away.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/SBgZELHDn2I/AAAAAAAABAs/1A2m1fh7KZo/s320/Go+Away.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5194929729664425826" /></a><br /><i>UGH, her again? She needs to back off of my man before I <a href="http://bigpikchur.blogspot.com/2008/03/unleash-motherfking-moonwalk.html" target="_blank">unleash the motherf**king moonwalk</a>!</i><br /><br /><br />If you have a new-favorite-actor based on only seeing a few of their movies, I highly recommend immersing yourself in their work. Start at the beginning, see their evolution, watch their growth through experience. In the meantime, there's always April's Hump of the Month to enjoy, Javier Bardem. I plan to enjoy him for a LONG time.<br /><br />Click <a href="http://trailers.apple.com/trailers/fineline/the_sea_inside/" target="_blank">HERE</a> to watch <i>The Sea Inside</i>'s trailer, featuring the diving scene that made me realize that Javier Bardem wasn't really an old man in a huggable sweater as the rest of the movie would suggest. </div><div><b><br /></b></div><div><b>In all seriousness, this movie is in my top 10 favorites of all time; and this man is in my top 3 favorite humps of all time. <u>He might even be <i>Numero Uno</i>, but don't tell Jeremy</u>.</b><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/SBgZVbHDn5I/AAAAAAAABBE/Ixz18p2pdo8/s1600-h/PurpleJavi.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/SBgZVbHDn5I/AAAAAAAABBE/Ixz18p2pdo8/s400/PurpleJavi.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5194930026017169298" /></a><br /><i>Red and purple are my favorite colors, he'd look PERFECT in my bedroom.</i><br /><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">To read previous </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Putting the Hump in Humpday</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> posts, click </span><a href="http://bigpikchur.blogspot.com/search/label/Putting%20the%20hump%20in%20humpday" target="_blank"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">HERE</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">.</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /><br /></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">To read everything I've ever written (publicly, anyway!) about </span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Javier Bardem</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">, click </span><a href="http://bigpikchur.blogspot.com/search?q=javier" target="_blank"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">HERE</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">.<br /></span><br />Smoker or not, you may need a cigarette after.</b><br /><br /><br />****</div></div>House of Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14835978117451125796noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5724753799134552427.post-21598025811471495252010-06-21T09:11:00.003-05:002010-06-21T09:25:11.401-05:00In the blink of an eyeOh, boy... err, man!<br /><br /><a href="http://bigpikchur.blogspot.com/2008/07/driving-miss-julesy.html" target="_blank"><b>THIS DUDE</b></a> is 18 today. EIGHTEEN. <br /><br />I can't even put into words how stellar it is to have him & his brother in my life... so I won't even try. <br /><br />I've been photographing him since the minute he was born (literally) and yet, I don't know where the time went.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/TB9zU2Ua61I/AAAAAAAACP4/cJpguQekGgY/s1600/A.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 264px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/TB9zU2Ua61I/AAAAAAAACP4/cJpguQekGgY/s400/A.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485229673176296274" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/TB9zUpQpG6I/AAAAAAAACPw/MsBJ0iYb9ac/s1600/B.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 264px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/TB9zUpQpG6I/AAAAAAAACPw/MsBJ0iYb9ac/s400/B.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485229669670788002" /></a><br /><br /><b><big>Happy birthday to you, Sparks! Your presence is truly a gift to ME (and everyone around you). You have made my life infinitely better, just by being in it.</b></big><br /><br /><br />****House of Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14835978117451125796noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5724753799134552427.post-61237761017790189042010-06-19T14:15:00.001-05:002010-06-19T15:19:55.738-05:00The Sad Vuvuzela (#SadVuvuzela) is now "a thing"!On Monday, I wondered to myself (and to anyone <a href="http://twitter.com/HouseofJules" target="_blank">following me on Twitter</a>): <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/TB0fstjyo1I/AAAAAAAACO4/yBHskP7r_zM/s1600/SadVuvuzela1.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 233px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/TB0fstjyo1I/AAAAAAAACO4/yBHskP7r_zM/s320/SadVuvuzela1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5484574774211552082" /></a><br /><i>You know, like the sad trombone. Wah-waaaaaah!</i><br /><br /><br />I didn't find anything online, but I kept it going on Twitter whenever it was appropriate:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/TB0freWo7wI/AAAAAAAACOo/69iwOwNJzn4/s1600/microvuvuzela.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 194px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/TB0freWo7wI/AAAAAAAACOo/69iwOwNJzn4/s320/microvuvuzela.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5484574752949989122" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/TB0ftQHCmAI/AAAAAAAACPA/m8Vnsz9tGec/s1600/buzzingvuvuzela.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 165px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/TB0ftQHCmAI/AAAAAAAACPA/m8Vnsz9tGec/s320/buzzingvuvuzela.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5484574783486203906" /></a><br /><i>Not quite a "sad" vuvuzela reference, but a fun one all the same.</i><br /><br /><br />Then, today I had to go to the place I bought my tires earlier this year because I had a flat that needed repairing. I sent out this tweet:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/TB0fsBgqa7I/AAAAAAAACOw/w4C8TbCJ9wc/s1600/screwvuvuzela.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 181px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/TB0fsBgqa7I/AAAAAAAACOw/w4C8TbCJ9wc/s320/screwvuvuzela.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5484574762387270578" /></a><br /><br /><br />...and then these back & forth tweets between <a href="http://twitter.com/jwiltshire" target="_blank">@JWiltshire</a> & I:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/TB0gd0qsB7I/AAAAAAAACPY/z3rusERFfI0/s1600/Jwilt1.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 212px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/TB0gd0qsB7I/AAAAAAAACPY/z3rusERFfI0/s320/Jwilt1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5484575617933117362" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/TB0gc19QbjI/AAAAAAAACPI/xvSDPOk55Go/s1600/Madeitathing.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 162px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/TB0gc19QbjI/AAAAAAAACPI/xvSDPOk55Go/s320/Madeitathing.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5484575601099566642" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/TB0gda2Gh9I/AAAAAAAACPQ/CKyYQhJ2E2I/s1600/Jwilt2.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 228px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/TB0gda2Gh9I/AAAAAAAACPQ/CKyYQhJ2E2I/s320/Jwilt2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5484575611001669586" /></a><br /><br /><br />So, your wish is my command:<div><b><br /></b></div><b>The Sad </b>(or any emotion, really)<b> Vuvuzela IS A THING! OUTSIDE OF TWITTER! AT YOUR DISPOSAL!</b><br /><br /><div align="center" style="border: 1px solid #a9a9a9; width: 300px; margin-top: 3px; margin-bottom: 3px; background-color:#ffffff;"><table cellpadding="2" cellspacing="3" border="0" bg="" style="color:#ffffff;"><tbody><tr><td><span style=" font-weight:bold; font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;">Sad </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#999999;">(or any emotion, really)</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;"> Vuvuzela</span></span></span></td></tr><tr valign="MIDDLE"><td><embed wmode="transparent" style="height: 24px; width: 290px;" src="http://www.madringtones.org/player.swf" quality="high" bgcolor="#ffffff" width="200" height="24" align="middle" allowscriptaccess="sameDomain" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" flashvars="playerID=510310&animation=no&titles=vuvuzela&artists=&soundFile=http://net2.madringtones.org/data/98/510310/files/510310.mp3"></embed></td></tr></tbody></table></div><br /><br />See what happens when you follow me on Twitter? I can make your wishes come true<span style="font-weight:bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;">*</span></span>!<br /><br /><big>Click <a href="http://twitter.com/HouseofJules" target="_blank"><b>HERE</b></a> to follow me if you aren't already!</big><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;">*</span></span>Sometimes<br /><br /><br /><small><small><small><a href="http://net2.madringtones.org/data/98/510310/files/510310.mp3" target="_blank"><b>sound source</b></a></small></small></small><br />****House of Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14835978117451125796noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5724753799134552427.post-42243247622152198442010-06-11T13:00:00.013-05:002010-06-11T17:58:17.068-05:00Fiesta, forever!Lionel Richie wrote a song about occasions like this: Today is my boo Will's birthday! <br /><br />Please read my previous birthday post to him <a href="http://bigpikchur.blogspot.com/2008/06/pie-bomb-ride.html" target="_blank"><b>HERE</b></a> so you can get a feel for his awesomeness! It'll open in another window so you can come right back to this afterward. Seriously, go read it. <b>DO IT.</b><br /><br />He's great, right? Of course he is. The guy TOTALLY gets me & I couldn't adore him more.<br /><br />Last weekend I went to another friend's wedding and put up a Facebook status letting everyone know what I was up to at the reception. There were a handful of funny responses, but his got right to the heart of the matter:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/TBKBwmnHoFI/AAAAAAAACOg/Q7UbBSaPVDc/s1600/UnskinnyBop2.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 221px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/TBKBwmnHoFI/AAAAAAAACOg/Q7UbBSaPVDc/s400/UnskinnyBop2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5481586368461643858" /></a><br /><small><i>My status update on one of the greatest songs* of all time, and Will's response.</i></small><br /><br />Love him! I know he would've been right there with me, heckling the band. The two of us could've wrestled the microphone away from the singer & performed the song as a duet. We could easily entertain a crowd. How many times can bands play, "From This Moment"? C'mon, wedding bands! Spice that shit up and take some unorthodox requests.<br /><br />Back to Will: He's currently in D.C. getting his education on <small>(now I'm just typing stuff in to crack MYSELF up)</small>, and you can read my post about that <a href="http://bigpikchur.blogspot.com/2009/09/cherry-rides-off-into-sunset-but-is.html" target="_blank"><b>HERE</b></a>. Don't miss it because your life will get exponentially better after seeing the picture of him <b>ON A DING DONG</b>, also known as my favorite photo OF ALL TIME! No joke. <a href="http://bigpikchur.blogspot.com/2009/09/cherry-rides-off-into-sunset-but-is.html" target="_blank"><b>Click to read now & thank me later</b></a>.<br /><br />Now that you know enough about him to fully enjoy the rest of this post--and there will be a test at the end so don't cheat or everyone will know--I'll bring you up to a couple of months ago, when I wanted to sent him a surprise package full of things to help him survive all that studying** he's doing at the library.<br /><br />I bought a bunch of small items, including:<div><div><ul><li>Highlighters</li><li>Post-It notes</li><li>Fun writing pens</li><li>Notation clips for his textbooks</li><li>Mini Chicago playing cards</li><li>Snacks (<a href="http://bigpikchur.blogspot.com/2008/11/official-hoj-reviewer-of-all-things-i.html" target="_blank"><b>nutsnacks</b></a>, etc... HA!)</li><li>Lots of candy</li><li>Little plastic toys like whistles & kazoos</li><li>Magnets (1 from a roadtrip to Tennessee and one with a skull & banner that says, <i>"A Pirate's Life"</i> just because whenever I thought about it being on his fridge, I'd literally laugh out loud)</li><li>Party poppers (those bottle-popping confetti things)</li><li>A shot glass</li></ul><div>...and most importantly:</div><ul><li><b>Assorted mini-liquor bottles</li><li>Tylenol</li></b></ul>The pile of goodness all laid out:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/TBJ7C9gmr0I/AAAAAAAACOY/6BT99uJdXGs/s1600/47540035SM.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 212px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/TBJ7C9gmr0I/AAAAAAAACOY/6BT99uJdXGs/s320/47540035SM.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5481578987264585538" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/TBJ7CYtJSgI/AAAAAAAACOQ/cV6tr24LDyY/s1600/47540033SM.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 212px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/TBJ7CYtJSgI/AAAAAAAACOQ/cV6tr24LDyY/s320/47540033SM.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5481578977385073154" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Then, I shoved it ALL in this piñata and shipped it off:</div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/TBJ7BlYATdI/AAAAAAAACOI/_84osH80Gm4/s1600/47540032SM-2.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 211px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/TBJ7BlYATdI/AAAAAAAACOI/_84osH80Gm4/s320/47540032SM-2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5481578963606195666" /></a><br /><br />It was so much fun putting this together for him, and he loved it. He was even going to keep the donkey around & give it a name. Now, THAT'S love.</div><div><br /><br /></div><div><b>Happy birthday, Will! You're the best!</b></div><div><br /></div><div><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;">*</span>Unskinny Bop's totally-appropriate-for-a-wedding-reception video & lyrics:<br /><br /><object width="480" height="360"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/uXaobvYqWsw&hl=en_US&fs=1&color1=0x5d1719&color2=0xcd311b&border=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/uXaobvYqWsw&hl=en_US&fs=1&color1=0x5d1719&color2=0xcd311b&border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="360"></embed></object><br />My favorite line: "Like gasoline you wanna pump me". Pure poetry, baby.<br /><br /><b>Unskinny Bop by Poison</b><br /><i>What's got you so jumpy? Why can't you sit still, yeah?<br />Like gasoline you wanna pump me<br />And leave me when you get your fill, yeah<br /><br />Every time I touch you honey you get hot<br />I want to make love you never stop<br />Come up for air you push me to the floor<br />What's been going on in that head of yours?<br /><br />(chorus)<br />Unskinny bop, just blows me away<br />Unskinny bop bop. All night and day<br />Unskinny bop bop bop bop, She just loves to play<br />Unskinny bop , nothin' more to say<br /><br />You look at me so funny<br />Love bite go you acting oh so strange<br />You got too many bees in your honey<br />Am I just another word in your page, yeah, yeah<br /><br />(chorus)<br /><br />You're sayin' my love won't do ya, but that ain't love written on your face<br />Well honey I can see right through ya<br />We'll see whose ridin' who at the end of the race<br /><br />What's right? What's wrong? What's left?<br />What the hell is going on?</i><br /><br /><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;">**</span>Not a euphemism, but it totally should be<br /><br /><br /></div><div>****</div></div>House of Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14835978117451125796noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5724753799134552427.post-89443871851538292232010-06-09T12:31:00.008-05:002010-06-09T12:47:04.042-05:00Truths in Word VerificationThis is what we called some<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0); font-weight: bold; ">*</span> of the cheerleaders in high school:<div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/TA_Q0Br3ZVI/AAAAAAAACOA/6kjnZpgWfRA/s1600/Picture+1.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 278px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/TA_Q0Br3ZVI/AAAAAAAACOA/6kjnZpgWfRA/s320/Picture+1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480828863757378898" /></a><br /><br />What?! In some places<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0); font-weight: bold; ">**</span>, it'd be considered a term of endearment!<br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;">*</span></span>Which means, NOT ALL.<br /><span style="font-weight:bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;">**</span></span>Places like, maybe, <b><i><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fucking,_Austria" target="_blank">HERE</a></i></b>?<br /><br /><br />****</div>House of Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14835978117451125796noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5724753799134552427.post-45344449717640266762010-05-21T10:49:00.004-05:002010-05-21T11:04:02.253-05:00Winnebago ManI'm not just a movie junkie, I'm also a documentary freak. I think the idea of documentaries makes some people turn up their noses because they equate it with SNOOZEFEST. I always say that if you like reality TV, you'll probably like documentaries. Sure, some are better or more interesting than others, but I can honestly say I've never seen one that I didn't like or learn something from.<br /><br />I've known about Jack Rebney for a couple of years, after seeing one of the videos of his Winnebago commercial bloopers on YouTube. They are absolute tear-jerkers. You will laugh until you cry, which is one of the greatest things to do with your time. Or, rather, with mine.<br /><br />Imagine my delight when I heard someone made a documentary about him! <br /><br />The dude swears like a trucker, so if you have sensitivities about that, don't bother watching this trailer.<br /><object width="480" height="360"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/NO05RfHO_4s&hl=en_US&fs=1&color1=0x5d1719&color2=0xcd311b&border=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/NO05RfHO_4s&hl=en_US&fs=1&color1=0x5d1719&color2=0xcd311b&border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="360"></embed></object><br /><i>"I don't want any more bullshit from anyone, that includes me!"</i><br /><br />Oh, it's glorious, isn't it?<br /><br />I'm counting the days until July 9th.<br /><br />****House of Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14835978117451125796noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5724753799134552427.post-51920382272931191232010-05-19T16:00:00.010-05:002010-05-19T16:41:58.352-05:00Going PostalI love the people who work at my local post office. I really do. I mean, I love them, but I'm not <b><i>IN LOVE</i></b> with them. You get what I'm saying. The guys who work at the counter know me by name, which is quite endearing, and also helpful when there's a long line. They know that if I need to mail anything or buy stamps, I'll use the machine in the lobby, so if I'm in line it means I need to pick something up. After seeing me, and in between customers, they dip in the back to get the package, nod in my direction and hand it off to me, without saying anything besides, <i>"Hi Julie! Here you go!"</i><br /><br />It's pretty bad ass.<br /><br />Once I had a huge box to mail and the machine wasn't working. Luckily, it wasn't busy that day so my friend & I were up to the counter in no time. My favorite counter guy greets me by name and we all chat as he's getting the box ready to ship for me. I ask about his grandkids and he asks me about my travels. As my friend & I walk back to my car, I said, <i>"Isn't he the best? THAT'S how I like my postal workers!"</i> and she replied, <i>"Are you kidding? That's how I like my EVERYBODY!"</i><br /><br />Such a good point. She's right. That's how I like my everybody, too.<br /><br /><br />Cut to today. I get one of those orange slips in my mailbox, telling me that there's a box for me at the post office. I see the mailman walking down the sidewalk delivering more mail. His truck is parked near my car, so I decide to wait outside for a few minutes to see if I can just get the box from him before he leaves with it.<br /><br />On his way back, I see that it's not my regular postal delivery guy. He still greets me with a super-friendly smile & I hold up my orange slip, asking if it'd be ok to just give me the package or if I'd have to wait until the next day to pick it up at the post office.<br /><br />As he opens the back of his truck to get it for me, this is how the conversation went (with a man I've never met before):<br /><blockquote><div align="left"><br /><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;">Postman:</span></b> <i>"You like eating <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hibachi" target="_blank">hibachi</a>?"</i><br /><br /><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;">Me </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;">(not knowing where he's going with that question</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;">):</span></b><i>"Uh, sure. Who DOESN'T like hibachi?"</i><br /><br /><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;">Postman:</span></b> <i>"There's this great place downtown. It's called _________ (names the place). Ever been there?"</i><br /><br /><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;">Me </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;">(STILL not knowing where he's going, but not wierded out)</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;">:</span></b> <i>"I don't think so. Sounds familiar, though."</i><br /><br /><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;">Postman:</span></b> <i>"We went there the other night, had steak & lobster. I got the $10 off birthday discount. See, most people don't even realize at ________( names the place) they'll give you a birthday discount. But they do. I like tellin' people that because we got steak AND lobster and they STILL gave us $10 off. You should have your boyfriend take you there on your birthday. It'll be our little secret."</i><br /><br /><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;">Me </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;">(now understanding where he was going, and am utterly charmed by his enthusiasm in general)</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;">:</span></b> <i>"Wow, I totally will. Happy birthday to you!"</i><br /><br /><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;">Postman (winking):</span></b> <i>"Oh, <u>it wasn't really my birthday</u>!"</i><br /><p></p></div></blockquote><br /><br />I love my local postal workers. I really, really do...<br /><br />...and I'm looking forward to finding who my boyfriend will be in October so I can get the $10 birthday discount.<br /><br /><br />****House of Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14835978117451125796noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5724753799134552427.post-43389321927605026232010-05-16T19:42:00.008-05:002010-05-16T20:31:28.873-05:00Me & my underutilized uterus are doing more than fine!Sometimes I wonder if I'll have kids of my own. I can count on one hand the times in my life that I have felt a little uterus pang regarding this topic, so it's not something that I feel like I'm missing out on. I leave it up to fate, because while I'd love having a healthy, committed, long-term relationship with a man (do those still exist?), I don't need my own kids to round that out or to make me feel "whole".<br /><br />I'm sure a huge part of not having an insatiable need for my own kids is because I can't imagine bringing anyone better into this world than my 2 nephews, and trust me when I tell you that I've never said anything more truthful than that. They're such good, fun-loving, smart, interesting, sometimes challenging (in a good way) people. <div><br /></div><div>They're totally different from each other (and somewhat indifferent TO each other, but they'll grow out of that) just like <a href="http://rememberruby.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">their mom</a> & I were at their ages-- and both, in their own ways, tremendous young men who have made my life... well, that's just it: <b> THEY'VE MADE MY LIFE.</b><br /><br />So, if I never have kids of my own, it's okay. For real.<br /><br />Case in point:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/S_CRKU5AN-I/AAAAAAAACNw/ewgdFyAo0Qs/s1600/NephewJasonAwesome.jpg" target="_blank"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/S_CRKU5AN-I/AAAAAAAACNw/ewgdFyAo0Qs/s400/NephewJasonAwesome.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472033153847670754" /></a><br /><small><i>Click to enlarge.</i></small><br /><br />Obviously, my nephew Jason (15) has incredible taste. Dylan (17) does, too, but he hasn't seen that status update yet. Also, they have more than one aunt, so it's not an empty/brown nose-y compliment. That ish is REAL. <br /><br />Beat that, mothertruckers. Oh, wait. You can't. ;)<br /><br />****</div>House of Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14835978117451125796noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5724753799134552427.post-39008349215141140662010-04-15T08:22:00.005-05:002010-04-15T08:46:41.820-05:00Help a Seestor out!When thinking about my favorite people, my college roommate Emily, her siblings, and their spouses dominate the list. Lucky for me, I've been symbolically adopted by the lot of them and taken my rightful place among them as a "Seestor"! Make no bones about it, this is a big deal to me. Every person in their family is crush-worthy. I get woozy when I'm around more than 2 of them at once. This is no joke as they make up a huge group of people. HUGE. Remember that show, Eight is Enough? Well, Emily's parents didn't think so! It's a good thing they had more than 8 kids because Emily is the 2nd youngest. I'm really glad they didn't stop with Em because one of my favorite memories includes the "baby" in the family: Seestor Amy.<br /><br />Oh, darling Amy! She officially became one of our college group of peeps when she stayed at our off-campus house a week before Emily's 21st birthday. The timeline is only important in that there may have been a run-in with the police, who were doing I.D. checks at our favorite little bar in town, and there may have been people running away on foot from the police and some of those people may have been caught. There may have even been a fundraiser to pay for the tickets issued for underage drinking and running the eff away from the scene. That's a story for another day, though. Oh man, is it ever a story! I mean, maybe it's a story and maybe it's not. Could be, or I could be making it up. But I'm not, so keep that between us.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/SfHXETvkuEI/AAAAAAAACBo/2LaXUOMGsDk/s320-h/weddingpic.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 167px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/SfHXETvkuEI/AAAAAAAACBo/2LaXUOMGsDk/s320/weddingpic.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328276303175268418" /></a><br /><i>Amy & Emily, at Em's wedding. This isn't their mugshot. Not that they have one.</i><br /><br /><br />Joking aside, I'm really writing this post for a serious reason. One of their older sisters, Nancy, got diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis fourteen years ago. I remember being in our living room at college with Emily when she got the news. It was devastating. Nancy is an incredible person. Perhaps without intending to be, she's also an inspiration to not only her whole family, but to everyone around her, including the adopted seestor typing in this blog post (me!).<br /><br />Every year since Nancy was diagnosed, Amy has been raising money towards a cure for Multiple Sclerosis by getting pledges for her participation in the annual <i>Walk MS</i>. It was something she could do to really show support for her seestor.<br /><br /><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">This disease does not discriminate: <big>Nearly two years ago, in May 2008, Amy was </big></span><big><u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">also</span></u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"> diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis.</span></big></b><big></big><br /><br />In her own words:<blockquote><div align="left"><i>I wondered where my donations went, what I was REALLY walking for, and if the MS Society REALLY utilized their money/resources wisely, since Nancy was not getting any better.<br /><br />Then with <b><u>my</u></b> diagnosis came the answer...there was immediate assistance from the Society guiding me through each step of the process of now living with MS. All of that monetary help from every sibling, friend, spouse or loved one of someone with MS revealed itself. It was in the financial assistance of my medication; the check-ups from RNs on a regular basis; and the continuous support of people who truly understand all that I'm going through now.<br /><br />I want to do something for the people who have been diagnosed and because I want to do everything to prevent more people from learning what it means to live with this disease. Today, there is no cure for MS, but hopefully with the support from you, we'll be that much closer to finding a cure!<br /><br />Nancy, was diagnosed with MS... to everyone's surprise. She has shown amazing strength and determination in battling her illness, so I had a guide as to how to deal with adversity. I've been relying on her example when dealing with my own illness; I can only hope that I'm making her proud.</i><p></p></div></blockquote><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/SfHV8FqQ-HI/AAAAAAAACBg/x2Xsl-T5ilI/s320-h/NancyAmySeestors.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 225px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/SfHV8FqQ-HI/AAAAAAAACBg/x2Xsl-T5ilI/s320/NancyAmySeestors.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328275062444324978" /></a><br /><i>Nancy & Amy. You make ALL of us proud!</i><br /><br /><br /><b>This year, I'm joining their team & walking with them! Seestors are flying in from all over: Emily from California, their sister Debbie from Boston and I think a few others, too (they have a big family)! Some of our college friends will be there as well and I'm looking forward to being a part of this positive movement towards a cure.<br /><br />Just as they did last year, Nancy and Amy have inspired me to offer the following: <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"></span></b><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">Everyone who donates $10 or more to our Walk MS team before <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: 800;">the end of April</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"> will get a one of my photographs (your choice, see the teaser shots below) FOR FREE. They'll eventually be for sale for in my as-yet-completed Etsy store for... </span><b><u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">more than that</span></u></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">. </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"></span></i></b></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0); font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></div><div><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="">If you donate $25, I'll send you 2 photographs of your choice.</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""> I'll ship them right to your door, at ZERO cost to you.</span></b></div><div><b></b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal; "><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#3333FF;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">If you donate more than that, I'll totally make out with you!</span> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Just kidding. Or maybe not. Let's just say: expect it when you least expect it. </span></i></span></span></span></b></div><div><b><br /></b></div></span></b></div><div><div><b>Mother's Day is coming up, you know. Someone you love is about to have a birthday. You deserve a little something! A beautiful photograph would be perfect for this occasion, don't you think?<br /><br />Go on, click <a href="http://bit.ly/SeestorJules" target="_blank">HERE</a> and give up some cash for my beautiful seestors Nancy & Amy, and for everyone else affected by Multiple Sclerosis. I have less than 3 weeks to make my goal, and really need your help!</b><br /><br />E-mail me after you've donated (or leave a comment) with your information and donation amount so we can get this whole thing rolling.<br /><br />All of the following images ©HouseofJulesPhotography. All rights reserved. <i>Ahem, please don't steal.</i><br /><br />Mini-Gallery: </div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/SfHYhcDIpTI/AAAAAAAACCQ/-G4tNzn7kpU/s200-h/KWShipsSunsetSM.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/SfHYhcDIpTI/AAAAAAAACCQ/-G4tNzn7kpU/s200/KWShipsSunsetSM.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328277903132632370" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/SfHYhpnKPSI/AAAAAAAACCY/R2XMmj8MhaI/s200-h/schwinn.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 144px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/SfHYhpnKPSI/AAAAAAAACCY/R2XMmj8MhaI/s200/schwinn.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328277906773392674" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/SfHYSfbfivI/AAAAAAAACCI/6x6oY3cg6Xc/s200-h/greenwood.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 133px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/SfHYSfbfivI/AAAAAAAACCI/6x6oY3cg6Xc/s200/greenwood.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328277646342064882" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/SfHYSGQT1FI/AAAAAAAACCA/ccnqqgweqVE/s200-h/FlowerCar.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 142px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/SfHYSGQT1FI/AAAAAAAACCA/ccnqqgweqVE/s200/FlowerCar.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328277639584273490" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/SfHYJ_zpCKI/AAAAAAAACB4/2BWgJYtK66Y/s200-h/BklynBrdge.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 138px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/SfHYJ_zpCKI/AAAAAAAACB4/2BWgJYtK66Y/s200/BklynBrdge.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328277500414462114" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/SfHYJvTLFfI/AAAAAAAACBw/zrKh6rDicxM/s200-h/beach4EddieSM.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 161px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/SfHYJvTLFfI/AAAAAAAACBw/zrKh6rDicxM/s200/beach4EddieSM.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328277495983314418" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/SfHaC8C2IQI/AAAAAAAACC4/LVve-yr0_SQ/s200-h/Maggie+Jones.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 134px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/SfHaC8C2IQI/AAAAAAAACC4/LVve-yr0_SQ/s200/Maggie+Jones.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328279578168664322" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/SfHaC9Po6aI/AAAAAAAACCw/0vFtO9paXeA/s200-h/BuddahGarden.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 142px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/SfHaC9Po6aI/AAAAAAAACCw/0vFtO9paXeA/s200/BuddahGarden.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328279578490759586" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/SfHZ38hcU1I/AAAAAAAACCo/lintXpJp1VQ/s200-h/PonteGiustinian.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 138px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/SfHZ38hcU1I/AAAAAAAACCo/lintXpJp1VQ/s200/PonteGiustinian.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328279389318435666" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/SfHZ373QkoI/AAAAAAAACCg/qVfJyivjWVE/s200-h/WashSquareArchSM.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 132px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/SfHZ373QkoI/AAAAAAAACCg/qVfJyivjWVE/s200/WashSquareArchSM.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328279389141504642" /></a><br /><br />All images ©HouseofJulesPhotography. All rights reserved. <i>Ahem, please don't steal.</i><br /><br /><big><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;"></span></span><a href="http://bit.ly/SeestorJules" target="_blank"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;">CLICK TO DONATE HERE!</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;">!</span></span></b></big><br /><br /></div></div>****House of Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14835978117451125796noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5724753799134552427.post-16764532023967589912010-03-18T09:15:00.004-05:002010-03-18T09:27:17.493-05:00Heavy Things<p></p><br /><br />Infidelity is not okay.<br /><br /><br />Domestic violence is not okay.<br /><br /><br />Acceptance of either is a crime against yourself.<br /><br /><br />Speak up. Get help. Get out.<br /><br /><br /><br />****House of Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14835978117451125796noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5724753799134552427.post-24888136300263648362010-03-03T07:26:00.007-06:002010-03-03T08:05:59.043-06:00Rube Goldberg machine & a marching band? Ok, Go buy their album!Who has more fun with their music videos than Chicago's own OK Go? Nobody. You remember their treadmill video for <i>Here it Goes Again</i>, right? I'd embed it but their record label won't allow it, and that has been a source of some aggravation for the band. Their new single, <i>This Too Shall Pass</i> has not one but TWO kickass vids, both of which I <b>*AM*</b> able to embed for your enjoyment purposes. I'll let OK Go's Damian tell you why, right after this cool-as-hell <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rube_Goldberg_machine" target="_blank">Rube Goldberg machine</a> version of their video. The marching band version is after the band's open letter to <i>"the people of the world"</i>.<br /><br /><object width="480" height="295"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/qybUFnY7Y8w&hl=en_US&fs=1&color1=0x5d1719&color2=0xcd311b"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/qybUFnY7Y8w&hl=en_US&fs=1&color1=0x5d1719&color2=0xcd311b" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="295"></embed></object><br /><br /><i><blockquote><p>To the people of the world, from OK Go:</p><p>This week we released a <a onclick="javascript:pageTracker._trackPageview('/outgoing/www.okgo.net/store');" rel="nofollow" target="_blank" href="http://www.okgo.net/store">new album</a>, and it’s our best yet. We also released a new video – the second for this record – for a song called This Too Shall Pass, and you can watch it <a onclick="javascript:pageTracker._trackPageview('/outgoing/bit.ly/okgottspvid');" rel="nofollow" target="_blank" href="http://bit.ly/okgottspvid">here</a>. We hope you’ll like it and comment on it and pass the link along to your friends and do that wonderful thing that that you do when you’re fond of something, share it. We want you to stick it on your web page, post it on your wall, and embed it everywhere you can think of.</p><p>Unfortunately, as of now you can’t embed diddlycrap. And depending on where you are in the world, you might not even be able to watch it.<span id="more-17552"></span></p><p>We’ve been flooded with complaints recently because our YouTube videos can’t be embedded on websites, and in certain countries can’t be seen at all. And we want you to know: we hear you, and we’re sorry. We wish there was something we could do. Believe us, we want you to pass our videos around more than you do, but, crazy as it may seem, it’s now far harder for bands to make videos accessible online than it was four years ago.</p><p>See, here’s the deal. The recordings and the videos we make are owned by a record label, EMI. The label fronts the money for us to make recordings – for this album they paid for us to spend a few months with one of the world’s best producers in a converted barn in Amish country wringing our souls and playing tympani and twiddling knobs – and they put up most of the cash that it takes to distribute and promote our albums, including the costs of pressing CDs, advertising, and making videos. We make our videos ourselves, and we keep them dirt cheap, but still, it all adds up, and it adds up to a great deal more than we have in our bank account, which is why we have a record label in the first place.</p><p>Fifteen years ago, when the terms of contracts like ours were dreamt up, a major label could record two cats fighting in a bag and three months later they’d have a hit. No more. People of the world, there has been a revolution. You no longer give a shit what major labels want you to listen to (good job, world!), and you no longer spend money actually buying the music you listen to (perhaps not so good job, world). So the money that used to flow through the music business has slowed to a trickle, and every label, large or small, is scrambling to catch every last drop. You can’t blame them; they need new shoes, just like everybody else. And musicians need them to survive so we can use them as banks. Even bands like us who do most of our own promotion still need them to write checks every once in a while.</p><p>But where are they gonna find money if no one buys music? One target is radio stations (there’s lots of articles out there. here’s one: <a onclick="javascript:pageTracker._trackPageview('/outgoing/arstechnica.com/tech-policy/news/2009/10/radio-pay-to-play-law-ready-for-vote-in-house-senate.ars');" rel="nofollow" target="_blank" href="http://arstechnica.com/tech-policy/news/2009/10/radio-pay-to-play-law-ready-for-vote-in-house-senate.ars">http://arstechnica.com/tech-policy/news/20…ouse-senate.ars</a> ). And another is our friend The Internutz. As you’ve no doubt noticed, sites like YouTube, MySpace, and Blahzayblahblah.cn run ads on copyrighted content. Back when Young MC’s second album (the one that didn’t have Bust A Move on it) could go Gold without a second thought, labels would’ve considered these sites primarily promotional partners like they did with MTV, but times have changed. The labels are hurting and they need every penny they can find, so they’ve demanded a piece of the action. They got all huffy a couple years ago and threatened all sorts of legal terror and eventually all four majors struck deals with YouTube which pay them tiny, tiny sums of money every time one of their videos gets played. Seems like a fair enough solution, right? YouTube gets to keep the content, and the labels get some income.</p><p>The catch: the software that pays out those tiny sums doesn’t pay if a video is embedded. This means our label doesn’t get their hard-won share of the pie if our video is played on your blog, so (surprise, surprise) they won’t let us be on your blog. And, voilá: four years after we posted our first homemade videos to YouTube and they spread across the globe faster than swine flu, making our bassist’s glasses recognizable to 70-year-olds in Wichita and 5-year-olds in Seoul and eventually turning a tidy little profit for EMI, we’re – unbelievably – stuck in the position of arguing with our own label about the merits of having our videos be easily shared. It’s like the world has gone backwards.</p><p>Let’s take a wider view for a second. What we’re really talking about here is the shift in the way we think about music. We’re stuck between two worlds: the world of ten years ago, where music was privately owned in discreet little chunks (CDs), and a new one that seems to be emerging, where music is universally publicly accessible. The thing is, only one of these worlds has a (somewhat) stable system in place for funding music and all of its associated nuts-and-bolts logistics, and, even if it were possible, none of us would willingly return to that world. Aside from the smug assholes who ran labels, who’d want a system where a handful of corporate overlords shove crap down our throats? All the same, if music is going to be more than a hobby, someone, literally, has to pay the piper. So we’ve got this ridiculous situation where the machinery of the old system is frantically trying to contort and reshape and rewire itself to run without actually selling music. It’s like a car trying to figure out how to run without gas, or a fish trying to learn to breath air.</p><p>So what’s there to do? On the macro level, well, who the hell knows? There are a lot of interesting ideas out there, but this is not the place to get into them. As for our specific roadblock with the video embedding, the obvious solution is for YouTube to work out its software so it allow labels to monetize their videos, wherever on the Internet or the globe they’re being accessed. That’ll surely happen before too long because there’s plenty of money to be made, but it’s more complicated than it looks at first glance. Advertisers aren’t too keen on paying for ads when they don’t know where the ads will appear (“Dear users of FoxxxyPregnantMILFS.com, try Gerber’s new low-lactose formula!”), so there are a lot of hurdles to get over.</p><p>In the meantime, the only thing OK Go can do is to upload our videos to sites that allow for embedding, like <a onclick="javascript:pageTracker._trackPageview('/outgoing/vids.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=vids.individual&videoid=102011512');" rel="nofollow" target="_blank" href="http://vids.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=vids.individual&videoid=102011512">MySpace</a> and <a onclick="javascript:pageTracker._trackPageview('/outgoing/www.vimeo.com/8718627');" rel="nofollow" target="_blank" href="http://www.vimeo.com/8718627">Vimeo</a>. We do that already, but it stings a little. Not only does it cannibalize our own numbers (it tends to do our business more good to get 40 million hits on one site than 1 million hits on 40 sites), but, as you can imagine, we feel a lot of allegiance to the fine people at YouTube. They’ve been good to us, and what they want is what we want: lots of people to see our videos. When push comes to shove, however, we like our fans more, which is why you can take the code at the bottom of this email and embed the “This Too Shall Pass” video all over the Internet.</p><p>With or without this embedding problem, we’ll never get 50 zillion views on a YouTube video again. That moment – the dawn of internet video – is gone. The internet isn’t as anarchic as it was then. Now there are Madison Avenue firms that specialize in “viral marketing” and the success of our videos is now taught in business school. But here’s a secret: zillions of hits was never the point. We’re a rock band, and it’s a great gig. Not just because we get to snort drugs off the Queen of England (we do), but because the only thing we are expected to do is make cool stuff. We chase our craziest ideas for a living, and if sharing those ideas takes 40 websites instead of one, it doesn’t make too big a difference to us.</p><p>So, for now, here’s the bottom line: EMI won’t let us let you embed our YouTube videos. It’s a decision that bums us out. We’ve argued with them a lot about it, but we also understand why they’re doing it. They’re aware that their rules make it harder for people to watch and share our videos, but, while our duty is to our music and our fans, theirs is to their shareholders, and they believe they’re doing the right thing.</p>Here’s the embed code for the Vimeo posting:<br /><p><object width=”400″ height=”300″><param name=”allowfullscreen” value=”true” /><param name=”allowscriptaccess” value=”always” /><param name=”movie” value=”http://vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=8718627&amp;server=vimeo.com&amp;show_title=1&amp;show_byline=1&amp;show_portrait=0&amp;color=&amp;fullscreen=1″ /><embed src=”http://vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=8718627&amp;server=vimeo.com&amp;show_title=1&amp;show_byline=1&amp;show_portrait=0&amp;color=&amp;fullscreen=1″ type=”application/x-shockwave-flash” allowfullscreen=”true” allowscriptaccess=”always” width=”400″ height=”300″></embed></object><p><a href=”http://vimeo.com/8718627″>OK Go – This Too Shall Pass</a> from <a href=”http://vimeo.com/user2495615″>OK Go</a> on <a href=”http://vimeo.com”>Vimeo</a>.</p></p><p>Go forth and put it everywhere, please. And <a onclick="javascript:pageTracker._trackPageview('/outgoing/www.okgo.net/');" rel="nofollow" target="_blank" href="http://www.okgo.net/">buy our album</a>. It’s great.</p><p>Yours Truly,</p><p>Damian (on behalf of OK Go)</p></blockquote></i><br /><br /><br /><object width="400" height="225"><param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><param name="movie" value="http://vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=8718627&server=vimeo.com&show_title=1&show_byline=1&show_portrait=0&color=&fullscreen=1"><embed src="http://vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=8718627&server=vimeo.com&show_title=1&show_byline=1&show_portrait=0&color=&fullscreen=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" width="400" height="225"></embed></object><p><a href="http://vimeo.com/8718627">OK Go - This Too Shall Pass</a> from <a href="http://vimeo.com/user2495615">OK Go</a> on <a href="http://vimeo.com/">Vimeo</a>.</p>****House of Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14835978117451125796noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5724753799134552427.post-69220908418104937552010-01-26T03:33:00.018-06:002010-01-28T03:41:07.283-06:00The Cinderella Project!Do you or any of your friends have bridesmaid (or other prom-caliber dresses) in your closet that you’ll never wear again? <span style="font-style:italic;">Personally? I have 4.</span><br /><br />Let’s join forces to help make underprivileged high school girls’ prom dress dreams come true by donating them to a charity I’m volunteering for called <i>The Cinderella Project</i>. Here's how you can help:<br /><br />Get your dry-cleaned<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;">*</span></b> bridesmaid or prom-caliber dress(es) to us between now & the end of February.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;"> </span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; ">Send an e-mail to<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"> </span><u><a href="mailto:casajules@gmail.com">casajules (at) gmail (dot) com</a></u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"> </span></span>for shipping information.</span></b><div><br /></div><div>Please ask all of your friends to dig through their closets, too!<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0); ">*</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal; "><small>Average cost to dry clean a dress can be anywhere from $6-$15. Many dry cleaners will comp this for you or discount that price if you explain it’s for charity, especially if you already use a particular dry cleaner on a semi-regular basis. </small></span><small><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;">If your dry cleaner won't comp it for you and you can't afford to pay for the dry cleaning, please send the dress to us anyway! </span></small></b><small> We’d rather have the challenge of getting them dry cleaned on this end vs. you not donating your dress(es).</small></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Thankfully, lots of people have been helping me get the word out, and they'll get a post all their own when everything is said and done, but for now, here's a little bit of funny business that went on when one of my BFFs retweeted one of my Twitter tweets. See, Twitter only allows for 140 characters, so there can be a bit of creative editing when retweeting. She accidentally edited out an important word, and... well, see for yourself:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/S17Gyyjms2I/AAAAAAAACNg/ww5p8ShzduE/s1600-h/oldbridesmaid.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 229px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/S17Gyyjms2I/AAAAAAAACNg/ww5p8ShzduE/s400/oldbridesmaid.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430996776522265442" /></a><br /><i>The BFF's retweet. Helpful but maybe asking for a bit too much from people.</i><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/S17GzbvR68I/AAAAAAAACNo/BdJAYTaEyDA/s1600-h/oldbridesmaid2.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_785QaU5Lgvg/S17GzbvR68I/AAAAAAAACNo/BdJAYTaEyDA/s400/oldbridesmaid2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430996787577088962" /></a><br /><i>My follow-up tweet; just to clarify things! </i><br /><br /><br /><b>Thanks to everyone helping me help </b><i><b>The Cinderella Project</b></i><b> make some very deserving high school girls look and feel gorgeous at their prom!</b><br /><br /><br />Follow me on Twitter <a href="http://twitter.com/HouseofJules" target="_blank">HERE</a>.<br /><br /><br />****</div></div>House of Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14835978117451125796noreply@blogger.com5