New Trend: Video Cards! E-Cards Go All Viral

This is what birthdays used to be all about: cake and hot dames, baby. Oh, and fire inside a moving vehicle, yee-haw! Who is going to yell at Marilyn for her lack of fire safety skills? Certainly not me.

Well that was then and this is now. The unsuspecting birthday 'victim' can now expect to be bombarded with the hideousness that is e-cards. Everyone agrees that e-cards suck. Nothing says I couldn't be bothered like getting that little email greeting. Just what I wanted, a GIF of a dancing birthday present doing the Macarena! Wow, you are thoughtful aren't you? Okay, okay, so Jason over at Gorilla Sushi found some kick-ass funny ones but the majority of the ones you are receiving are still likely to blow.

Looming on the horizon are V-cards, like E-cards, only movier. Here is a brilliant young lad at the forefront of this phenomenon, first in a Happy Birthday Greeting:



and the card that says it all: you're awesome/get well/graduation/you're fired:



I'm guessing this market will eventually be flooded with epic talent. I'm seeing features like Brooke Hogan in: Your Clinic Test Results Came Back Negative! and Danny Bonaduce: Cheers! You just earned your 90-day Sober Chip.

But there could be some great ones. Personally I'd like Larry David to do one. "It's your birthday. Why should I care?!" And maybe Radiohead because Thom Yorke's lazy eye just SENDS me. Who would you love to see in a V-card?

Caption This Contest: Rename That Record

This is an actual record, I swear to Wiki. Apparently Orion had a thing for masks. How did this never catch on? The fashionistas really dropped the ball on this one. How do you miss a radically bitchin trend like masquerade masks? I'm guessing he smells like spirit gum, bongwater, and Brut aftershave.

Let's just agree right now that the name of this record blows. I mean, come on, Reborn?! That mask so achingly color-coordinated to his completely dip-dyed ensemble says he put more thought into his outfit than his album title. Tsk, tsk! So lets help Orion out and find a better name for this album. If we all pull together I know we can do it! (You can tell I'm fired up when the !!! points are representin')

UPDATE: Well this proved to be a really tough one to caption, I hadn't realized it would be, but I couldn't think of anything either. Maybe how they ended up with the crappy ass title in the first place! So the winner is .... Anonymous with Eyes Wide Shut Soundtrack

Flickr: The Golden Teat

Add this one to the 'why didn't I think of that' file. A blog devoted solely to Flickr party photos with screamingly-funny captions. People getting falling down drunk and making asses of themselves on Flickr. It's like grains of sand on the beach. Don't click on the link unless you have a big window of time to kill. I got sucked in and had to read them all in one go: Sorry I Missed Your Party

Things The Incredible Hulk Taught Me

Just a few of my observations about The Incredible Hulk movie. The new, new Hulk movie, not the one done in 2003 by Ang Lee right before he did Brokeback Mountain. Please note I am not a comic book reader (a commie?) so I won't get into how inaccurate the Abomination was or how the Hulk should have used his auto-infernorator like he did in episode #3212 when he was fighting Captain Stingray. What I will tell you is:

• Gamma radiation is baaaaad.
• It may make you constipated, from the looks of it.
  
• And it will make your blood cells look like soggy Trix.
• Ed Norton has the breathing-technique skills to make a kick-ass natural childbirth coach.
  
• Liv Tyler is still a card-carrying member of the Keanu Reeves school of wooden, one-note acting.
• If you are still hung up on the gamma-radiated guy that got away, you'll probably wind up dating a closeted gay shrink, cause you're an optimist like that.
  
• William Hurt looks wicked cute with a Colonel Sanders mustache.
• Lou Ferrigno has been either a) hitting the gym b) hitting the juice. He still looks ripped as hell.
• It would have been 100% cooler if those college kids with the phones had used Twitter to share their footage.
• Bruce Banner can't get too horny or he'll go all Hulk-Shit on your ass. (But once he IS the Hulk, what is the problem? Bust out Mr. Green and get it on already! If the size of his hands are any indication .... wow.)
  
• If you set up location in Brazil you can cast an unbearably-hot, always dewy, Brazilian girl as a factory worker. And it is almost plausible, almost.
• A killer soundtrack, ala Iron Man, would have given this movie more punch. Tell me It's Not Easy Being Green wouldn't have been perfect when they were sitting in the rain?
  
• Tim Roth has a great pimp walk.
• The Hulk himself thought Ed Norton was an odd choice and blogged about it on his blog.
  
• I'm guessing Bruce Banner played cymbals in the marching band.
  
• A stretchy pants gambit is lame and just draws attention to the fact that his clothes still being on, at all, after an 'incident' is unlikely.
  
• The Hulk should ditch those Gilligan's Island Bermuda shorts he wears and just go full monty. It would make the post-incident scenes so much funnier.
• Apparently you can swallow a flash drive, regurgitate it, and not lose your data.

A Niche That Needs Filling

The untapped niche: Lazy Mom.

I am sick to death of busy mom. She's in all the commercials mopping, cooking, vacuuming, Bounty'ing up messes. She's the target market for seemingly every product under the sun. When I was shopping for a new phone recently, I even saw a reference to 'busy soccer moms' in the Blackberry ad. You thought Blackberrys were just for businessmen? Hell no, now mom can email her scrapbook buddies when Jo-Ann has paper crafts on sale. I know this woman must be a real woman, if they made a demographic out of her, but she isn't the entirety of motherhood.

I think that's why Sex And The City resonates with so many women, it is full of booze, sex, drugs, and shoes. You know, the important stuff. And the fact that most men can't stand it? Just an added bonus. Too bad the fun all ends once you put your uterus to good use. Then you have a choice:

1. Put on your khaki capris and start dusting. Then dust harder! Faster! More often!
   
2. Resign yourself to being 'that mom' and get used to being gossip fodder.

Guess which one I chose? I kinda like it though, it's always more fun playing the villian because you get the juiciest dialogue and the best clothes. Plus, the villian usually end up fucking Brad Pitt and having cute babies. Team Angie!

The busy mom niche has obviously jumped the shark. So who is going to step up and cater to the needs of us lazy moms? I'm sure it is a VAST (in more ways than one) market just waiting to be catered to. I mean, lazy moms are ... inherently lazy, right? So use that weakness to your advantage marketer gurus. You think you can sell products as 'quick, easy, effortless' to OCD moms? Just wait until you venture forth into lolling-on-the-couch mom land.

I like spotless windows and folded laundry just as much as the next woman, but the neurotic woman on her knees cleaning the bathroom is not what we aspire to be, darlings. She's probably doped up on antidepressants anyway, to fill the gaping void where her reason for living used to be.

A commercial where the kids are scrubbing the bathroom while mom sips on a martini in the tub? I'll buy it, whatever it is you're selling. I mean, I gave birth to them, shouldn't they at least make themselves useful?

Update: Apparently CNN has gotten in on the busy mom action with a SPECIAL REPORT, gag. Helpful tips on how to get more done! Chores! Errands! Meals! Guess the ride ends here if you're a busy mom. Me? I'll be hiding out on the porch swing, nursing my mojito and catching up on my RSS feeds. Please don't divulge my location, I'll make you a drink too.

Espresso Monster

Behold that which is awesome (cue music):



I harbor a deep and unbridled love of coffee.Since my last post was about tea, I thought this would be a rather fitting segway out of the Grim Reaper's grasp. Next up, a post about Adderall, so stay tuned!

I am slowly creeping back up into pot-a-day territory. Why coffee gets such a bad rap I'll never know. Sure you might get jittery or suffer the occasional caffeine withdrawal headache but look at all you get in return. What else is going to pull you back from the brink of hangover hell, relax you, invigorate you, and smell stupendous?

My latest coffee gadget is the Mukka Express stovetop espresso maker, a lovely Mother's Day present. If you aren't American, a stovetop espresso maker is probably yawnsville but it is pretty newfangled to me, so hear me out. My first few attempts at using this thing were epic fails. Then I watched the DVD (Yes, it actually came with an instructional DVD, replete with cartoon-sized espressos. Just how did she get THAT much espresso out of the damn thing? All I get is enough for one mug.) and got a bit better.

It is still hit-or-miss though, which makes it so exciting. It's like jumping out of an airplane, will my shoot open? Will I plunge to my death? Will the little top fail to pop up and make cool Darth Vader sounds? Will my milk froth? Yes, this is my kind of excitement. I could just sip frothed milk off a teaspoon all day long and be happy.



The assembly is so positively steampunk that my husband will begin muttering about damn Europeans and their stupid contraptions and why aren't there pressure latches and why must it be so antiquated? The term 'asshattedness' is usually employed right about now. Surely there is a better way of building one of these things?

Basically you:

1. Pour water into the bottom reservoir, set in the espresso strainer, scoop some espresso into it, and then screw the milk jug on top. If there is even ONE speck of espresso out of place, you don't get a good seal and the water boils over. No espresso for you!
2. After the milk jug is screwed on, you put on the pressure valve (more wackiness as it doesn't actually click to either the 0 or 1 position, just slides in a nebulous limbo state between the two), pour in your milk and set it on the burner.
3. Now you need to make sure the pot butt is right over the flames and don't let the fire lick up the sides of the pot. Do Europeans have smaller burners? This is always tricky for me and my ginormous American burners.
4. Set your timer for 5 minutes and PRAY. If you are lucky, it sounds like a plane is taking off in your kitchen as the steam shoots through the assembly and froths the milk. Success!

The only disappointment is that I can't make bitchin espresso art with this thing, I think I would need a separate container for the milk. Although this pic does look like a little espresso monster to me. Rawr!

Blogging Red Flag

Yesterday I'm driving to Bobaloca and I'm very nervous about how I'm going to transport the Bobalocas back home because the Jaguar has this ridiculous little cup holder tray. It is very jiggly for one; I am not sure what kind of accident the cup holder was involved in previously in it's life, but it is very shaky and not reliable at all. It has the grip of an 80-year-old woman. Also, it is literally about a centimeter deep. So you can put anything you want in there but the first turn you make , its gonna come flying out.

So: jiggly, very short, in a car that I don't want to get messy, all add up to making me very nervous. I don't think Bobaloca has those cardboard drink holders, I usually just hold the drink between my legs, thank you very much. But I don't think I can fit 2 large Bobalocas between my legs. I'm just not that talented.

Then I remember that they have these supercool lids that basically just seal the entire top surface of the cup with a layer of plastic. To drink your tea you have to very symbolically plunge a sharpened straw into the plastic and pierce the seal, thereby gaining access to your tea. I always feel like I should apologize to it before I desecrate it like that, it's very yang. I just won't deflower my teas and I can plop them right on the floor, do donuts in the parking lot, take corners at 60 miles an hour (you know, the way I normally drive), and nothing bad will happen .

So I get them in the car and I put them on the floor and I TAKE A PICTURE of the teas with my phone. (Right about here is where my red flag should have been pinging) I'm very proud of myself.

Then I realize, in the front seat is okay, but in the back seat is even BETTER. So I wedge them in between the front and the back seat so they stay upright, even though it doesn't really matter, it just makes me feel better. I now proceed to take ANOTHER PICTURE of them in their new location in the back seat. (Red flag #2)



Yes, the front and back seats are that close in the Jag, with the seat all the way back. Hope you don't have anything vaguely resembling legs cause you won't be able to take them with you, sitting back there. Maybe can put them in the trunk. Unless they are thinner than a 16 oz drink, then you can keep them.

I'm having so much fun taking pictures and storyboarding in my mind, I whip out my phone again and start recording some notes so, you know, I don't forget any of the vitally important facts about this little escapade. Luckily my phone has a very short capture time and cuts me off right about the time I'm describing the shrink-wrapped lids ... (My phone tries to give me red flag #3 but I'm oblivious, high on the fumes of tea-induced blogging!)

Then it dawns on me: I'm planning on blogging about tea. Not only that, I'm inexplicably excited about this blog post about tea. I've taken TWO pictures now and I've sketched out a story line and I've taken NOTES and I'm going to tell people about bubble tea, the 3 people left in the world who don't know what bubble tea is.

If you are one of those 3 people, my apologies, I've run out of room to actually blog about bubble tea. I'm too busy telling the story of my ever-loosening grip on sanity. Go to Wiki for more info.

Here is where my red flag finally activates, taking longer to kick in than Hillary's capitulation to Obama. What has happened to me that I'm excited about blogging about tea? Storyboarding and photos and notes? About TEA?!! This kind of scares me because I don't even own any cats, not even one! I don't have a Phantom of the Opera poster up anywhere in my house, I don't have any harlequin clowns stashed anywhere.

Shouldn't I be alarmed? Isn't this one of the first signs of the apocalypse? Is this where I'm headed? Is this my future, blogging about tea? I'm terrified of what's next. If you see a post about Murder She Wrote, please do a blogging intervention on me.

Caption This Contest, The Sequel

Update: The caption winner is .... Claire, who writes the wonderful A Little Piece of Me. Congrats you kitten sipper.

Rodent: I am just a hairy midget, not a freaky, walking,talking,ninja rodent, honest!

Random person: Hands up if your freaky, walking,talking,ninja rodent.

Rodent: Awww fuck shit, I fell for it again.

It's back, with even more gratuitous violence and pointless superstar cameos. Yes, it is the long-awaited Caption This Contest Sequel.

The winner will get the pleasure of basking in the toasty glow of internet acclaim with their name/URL on this post. That and knowing they kicked everyone else's ass.

For the Love of Canola Oil

I'm a woman besotted, hung up and daydreaming about ... buying an old diesel Mercedes and converting it to run on veggie oil. First I saw this Mythbusters episode where they ran one on unfiltered used cooking oil.




Then just the other day I saw this on Current TV and that did it. Lovecraft Biofuels is right there in LA (Silverlake, woot!), so close it seems almost a crime to NOT get a biodiesel. I mean, think about if I lived in the sticks and couldn't even find a shop to do a conversion nearby? What about those poor bastards? Besides, I find something so cuddly about being able to gas up my car with something I can buy at the same place I buy my bananas and Boca burgers.


So here I am staring longingly at old beat-up Rabbits and rambling Mercedes sedans big enough to seat 20. I know driving an old car with amenaties breaking left and right doesn't sound like much fun, but think of how great it would be if my car smelled like french fries all the time? Okay, maybe not such a great thing if you're on a diet but you get my point. Plus, it brings tailgaiting to a whole notha level. Corn dogs anyone?

There are some cons involved, of course:

• My uncertainty in the soundness of the engineering involved.


• Old cars + high mileage = lots of repairs.


• An 83 Merz probably won't have a navigation system or a plugin for my iPod.


• Being seen driving a biodiesel, which I didn't think was a bad thing, however, the mere thought of which caused my husband to actually shiver in disgust.

So much confusion has caused me to create my first ever blog poll. Please take a moment to sound off and tell me if I'm off my rocker (I mean completely off, I know I'm at least one-cheek off) or if biofuel is a sound alternative to regular car fueling. Poll is at the top of the blog. from my shoulder, hang a right, turn south east, you can't miss it.

Google Alerts To The Rescue

As part of my job, slugging it out in the trenches of medical transcriptionery, I must do a certain number of CECs (Continuing Education Credits ) every year or I don't get a raise. It is quite simple, no CECs = no $$. I hate CECs with a passion. I love learning about the latest medical advances, I just don't want to be TOLD to learn them, and complete a certain amount by a scheduled date.



I usually end up procrastinating doing my CECs until the last minute and then staying up for 3 days straight watching procedure after procedure on OR-Live until I'm crosseyed. After awhile, all the blood and gore starts to blend together into one big puddingy picture in my mind. Am I watching a hip arthroplasty or a hysterectomy? I can't even tell by day 3.



Someday I will acquire the technical skilz to start a CEC Exchange website where you can log on, upload last year's CECs and earning credits to download new ones for this year. And then I'd pull an entrecard and offer the option of buying them, muhahaha.



So anyway, I must do CECs and just become content with that reality. I figure I can go back to being a pole dancer at the Spearmint Rhino, or I can keep on keepin on with the typing gig. I've come to terms with my decisions. I've left that life behind and I'm so over it, I don't even look up when someone says "Tiffany" anymore.


Whenever I am typing along and a doctor says something interesting, my ears perk up and I tab over to Google to get some information for future CECization. Today's best term was 'platelet-rich plasma clot.' Basically this doc took out some of the patient's blood, spun it down to get it to clot, and then sewed the clots back into the surgical repair to assist with healing.



Sounds radical right? I mean, I usually just pick my scabs and throw them away but no, come to find out they can be saved and redeemed for valuable wound healing next time I need them. Labeling a ZipLock baggie with 'SCABS' in Sharpie for future use as we speak ... Don't want to mistake them for raisins next time I'm making oatmeal cookies.


Google search gives me pretty much squat with this search term, but what I am SO loving is the everpresent Google Alerts! option. You know, so I can sign up to get up-to-the minute platelet-rich plasma clot news updates. I hear those are coming down the pike so fast I simply must have Google Alert's help with the management of my plasma clots news, otherwise I don't know where I'd be. Only the newest, freshest plasma clot news will do.

White Trash Dog Grooming

Before I got a dog, I did boatloads of research. I read every book in the library, looked at all the shelter websites, and knew exactly what I wanted, and didn't want, in a dog. All I had were 3 simple requirements:

• A mellow dog who wouldn't bite the faces off small children.
• No barking.
• No shedding.

Then I saw a picture of a dog on a shelter website and I was a gonner. All my requirements went out the window, I wanted THAT dog and nothing else mattered. I didn't care if she was a face-eater or had rabies. I got up the next morning and drove to Hollywood to pick her up, without even owning a leash or a dog bowl.

Five years later I'm still very happy with that decision. Turns out she isn't a face-eater, doesn't have rabies, and doesn't even bark much. She is a total sweetheart and has brought me hours and hours of joy. Even when things go wrong, like that time I took her to the beach and she snatched a seagull out of thin air and brought it to me all excited, like 'look at the amazing chew toys they have here ma!' Even then, it was still allright in the end. I mean, not for the seagull, but in general.

But then there is the problem with the hair. She sheds, and sheds, and sheds some more. She is half Rottweiler (so far so good)/half Husky (oh crap), or at least that's what they told me at the pound. She looks like a Rotty except she has blue eyes and a curled up tail and likes to pull you down the street as if you were on a sled. Oh, and she howls at fire engines, which I find adorable and irresistible.

Her shedding cycle goes something like this:

• Summer: Wow, thats a lot of hair you've got falling out there.
• Fall: Hmmm, shouldn't you stop shedding and save some for winter?
• Winter: Okay, I'm serious now, stop shedding for like 1 damn month! As a Christmas gift to me, your mother, who saved you from certain DEATH!
• Spring: Holy crap that winter shedding was just an eyelash compared to this.

My husband concocted a great plan for managing the hair though. See, when you brush the hair out of a dog that sheds this much, the mounds of hair pile up quickly, and get everywhere. And pretty soon you and everything around you, is buried in piles of dog hair and its really, really gross.

For today's white trash dog grooming project you will need:

1. A hairy dog, preferrably not phased by loud machinery or the sensation of being Hoovered.
2. A shedding blade - bar none the most valuable tool in our arsenal. Run, don't walk, to the pet store to get one of these.
3. A Rigid shopvac. You could use a standard vacuum but the more industrial the better. Your wimpy indoor vac might choke on the scads of hair you are about to unleash.
4. A kitchen broom, if you feel like going Full Monty.

Here are some handy video demos to help you out:



One person should work the shedding blade while an assistant vacuums up the hair. (Note: Trying to video and vacuum simultaneously is apparently more complicated than some people can handle (me), my apologies for the lousy camera work.)




In the second clip you see the happy outcome. A dog who has just had 800 pounds of hair removed is a happy creature. In this clip you can also see that, even though she has just been vacuumed within an inch of her life, there is still MORE hair coming off her. Repeat daily until you have enough hair to make a pillow. Embroider with a cute saying like "Handmade With Love, By Me and My Bitches".

Guess Who Did Shoot The Deputy?

We all know it wasn't Bob Marley, but you'll never guess who it was. It was ... wait for it ... KERMIT! Apparently it's not so easy being green.

http://www.wsmv.com/news/16506644/detail.html

This is actually a very sad story but the killer is Kermit Bryson, who shot a sherrif deputy (double points?) is now on the TBI's most wanted list. TBI, of course, stands for Totally Bitchin Investigators.

Et Tu, Fortune Cookie?

Apparently word got out that girls love compliments. Even my fortune cookie has been watching Tivo'd episodes of The Pickup Artist. I half expected him to have wingmen and do a magic trick for me. I guess it worked, I ate him. Damn you cookie, how could I resist the way you negged me in the set?

Take Your Twitter To Tha Next Level

moar funny pictures

Okay I've been poring over this massive list from Mashable: 140 Twitter apps. The fact that there are, in actuality, 140 Twitter apps already in existence scares the crap out of me but anyway, here are a few of my favorites:

With Tweetvolume, you just plug in a few words and Twitter tells you how often those words are showing up on Twitter. I chose "laid" and "tonight" and from what I can gather, my findings shows pretty conclusively that Twitterers are busier building new Twitter apps than getting it on.

Next favorite is Twitterholic, which shows you who is posting the most on Twitter. These might be people to either follow or avoid, based on how much free time you have. Safe to assume these people probably weren't among the 3000 who twitted "laid" (see above).

But what if you are more self-involved and want to know how YOUR tweet links are doing? Is anyone clicking on them or are you just twitting in the wind? Download Tweetburner and check on it. Then spend all night building an app that will help people get more Twitter link traffic. It would be a goldmine, seriously.

Okay, this one seems like it is going to be the kickassiest (yes, it is a word, you are reading it, right?), particularly the next time I'm out with my drunk friends. You know I got em! Qik lets you use your mobile phone to stream live video to Twitter. So buy your pals the first round, swear that you are just trying to figure out how this gosh darn complicated video phone works, it's not really ON or anything, and get some incriminating video already.

Why Do My Eggplants Look Like Peppers?

What's more fun than finger painting cushions with dirt? Not much, but wait! I have an idea!

Rearranging the plant information spikes when no one is looking! Watch and learn.

I'll just put the red pepper card over here by the eggplant and bury the squash card entirely.

Oh hi mom! I'm just admiring the plants. Nuthin to see here, take your pic and move it along.

My plan has worked. Muhahahahaha! It's so easy to fool her, I almost feel bad ... almost.

My Inaugural Caption This Contest

A first in This Is Mayjah's long, illustrious history. I was inspired once again by Gorilla Sushi for writing such an insightful post about having a Caption Contest. Enter as many times as you like. The winning caption writer will get their name/URL posted on this thread for, like, all eternity (also known as a permalink) and I will Twitter a tweet about your awesomeness. I will also pour myself a Slam Dunk and have a toast in your honor. How's that for a prize? Have at it, kids.

UPDATE!

Thank you for all that submitted captions, you've all officially popped my Caption This contest cherry, I hope it was good for you. And the winner is ....

Lin Mei of http://linmeiyap.blogspot.com/

Honorable Mention goes to the very close runners up: Mark, Table For 5, and Gorilla Sushi. It was very hard for me to decide. I might just make this a regular feature though, because that was fun!

Happy Birthday Norma Jean

Marilyn Monroe would be 82 today. Of course she didn't live to see her 37th birthday so she will forever be frozen perfectly in time. No botox or facelifts for Marilyn. No Garboesque slink into seclusion. Just a cold, naked, perfect body slung out on her bed, phone in hand, in her house at 12305 Fifth Helena Drive in Brentwood. Years later, when the new owners were remodeling the house in the '70s they would discover a complicated phone tapping and bugging system rigged up throughout the entire place. Who was involved? FBI? The mafia? I don't think we'll ever know quite what happened to Marilyn, but that just makes it more exciting I suppose.

A famous quote of hers goes: "I used to think as I looked at the Hollywood night, 'There must be thousands of girls sitting alone like me, dreaming of becoming a movie star. But I'm not going to worry about them. I'm dreaming the hardest'." This is achingly romantic and it sounds great, but how much of Marilyn's magic had to do with wishing and how much was just bound up in her being? No one before or since has quite recreated the onscreen magnetism she conveyed, and I'm sure a truckload of actresses have been wishing REALLY hard Marilyn. Really, really fucking hard.

I remember the first time I saw her face, in a bookstore window, selling one of the more than 600 books that have been written about her. This was in the '80s, I had no idea who she was, but I marched right into that store, scraped together the money I was going to use to buy a Smith's tape, and bought that book. I would flip through it over and over, poring over every picture, then starting at the beginning again. I was just agog at her unworldly face on top of her completely worldly body. Surely no one this gorgeous was ever really alive, right? I found it hard to believe and went back to the bookstore in search of more Marilyn books. This was before Tivo and the Internet so I had to be satisfied with bookstores, libraries, and the American Movie Classics channel.

I became a compulsive Marilynoholic and took to styling my hair in platinum curls, scouring thrift stores for vintage '50s dresses and heels, and wearing red lipstick. People began to refer to me as 'that girl who dresses like Madonna.' Fucking idiots. Madonna?! Then the lecture would start, and after they had been thoroughly schooled in which one was a sellout shill wannabe and which one was the Most Glamorous Movie Star Of All Time, Period, I would huff off, leaving them in stunned silence.

The first time I got to see Marilyn as she was meant to be enjoyed, on a giant movie screen, I was at a complete loss for words. It was Gentleman Prefer Blondes and something about the Technicolor and the musical numbers and Marilyn shining like an ethereal alien, just blew my mind. I wondered how everyone else could just go about their day-to-day life without becoming obsessed. My mom, who had been around in the '50s, just thought she was a tramp. I didn't know anyone else who was a rabid fan (no Internet, remember). I thought maybe I had lost my mind. It didn't lessen my fascination , just added an alienating component to it. But I was a teenager so it kinda worked for me.

I don't know how I snapped out of my Marilyn coma. I spent my entire teendom worshipping at her shrine, then one day I just decided I wanted to be a normal modern girl. I never stopped loving Marilyn, I just stopped trying to replicate her, it was exhausting and pointless. First I let go of the dresses and the hair, then eventually the posters came down and the movies weren't on an endless loop in my VCR anymore.

To this day, I still admire Dita von Teese and other hardworking ladies who chose to live a retro lifestyle. I just saw these pictures of Dita at Coachella and all I could think of was 'this was totally me as a teenager, dressed to the nines amidst a throng of slackers who don't get it.' She pulls it off beautifully and it is a lot of work to look that packaged up every single day. Seeing her trudging through Coachella like this just brought it all back.

So happy birthday Marilyn. I'll have to dig out a Marilyn DVD and watch it in your honor. Even 50 years later, no one else even comes close.