Tuesday, March 27, 2007

Dear America

If you do not vote Sanjaya off this week I will be forced to make it happen myself. I will drive down to LA, steal him, drive away in my vdub, and drop him in places unknown. I don't even want the ransom, I just want him out of my face and ears for life. This brush with the law shouldn't be necessary, but you've forced my hand, America. You've forced it by making me listen to him ruin everything from the Kinks to No Doubt and by making me stare at that dead animal on his head week after week. Please keep me out of jail. Get him gone. I mean it.

Monday, March 26, 2007


We've got a Japantown here, so where's my Happily? I just read about this aptly named, for-females convenience store found only in Japan, and I wa-nt one - I want an everlasting gobstobber now.

This place is like the anti-7-11. It's got an all female staff, a smoothie bar instead of a hot dog bar (which, honestly, I would kind of miss) and one restroom for - yup - women only. No standing in line next to sketchy dudes eying my stuff, flowers on the sink- heck, I could walk barefoot ala Brit and not even raise a brow. Pick up a cali roll (health food vs. junk food), a new gloss (at the extensive cosmetic aisle!) and an O without Maxim up in your kitchen. I'd wander around this place for hours; it'd be my Cheers. And yet, I'm not. I'm still grabbing my Gatorade and Lil' Debbie cupcakes in coed squalor. Get on it, SF.

Friday, March 16, 2007


Does anyone else feel like crawling inside their refrigerator when they see that commercial for - gag - Yaz? It lasts about 3 hours and takes place in a club, where one Carrie Bradshaw wannabe (who we're lead to believe is a medical professional) is lecturing her - surprisingly naive for their age - fellow CBWBs about birth control. It's whiny, condescending, and the whole thing is inexplicably dubbed like a Kung Fu movie. I think it's safe to say if your moving mouth doesn't match the words coming out of it, birth control should be the least of your worries.

I'd be hard-pressed to think of a prescription ad that I enjoyed, but this thing makes me embarrassed to be female. Although, I must say their interactive website - you can direct CB to her doctor's office, a cafe, or her apartment and then explore each room for tips - is, uh, something to behold.

Thursday, March 08, 2007

American Apparel

When I first learned about American Apparel I was delighted. Bright colors, soft cotton, no labels, made for skinnies; it all exuded such sophisticated simplicity. And of course there was that socially responsible/no sweatshops/made in the USA thing.

I'd step in that store and cash would just fly out of my pockets. I couldn't get enough of the soft scoopnecks that fit my scrawny pipes or the skirts that invented a bum where none existed. After awhile, though, it simply lost its novelty.

If I want a plain t-shirt, why shouldn't I just hit Target and drop 10 bucks vs. 36? And I don't really need a moderately-priced, ill-fitting turtleneck in my closet. I'd rather spend a little more at Banana and have it look right. It's not cheap enough to buy in bulk nor quality enough to be expensive. And the holes and stretched-out necks might be hipster-approved, but I'm working towards becoming a professional woman, people. Maybe Kathie Lee was onto something?

What was once appealing about their sizing has become ludicrous; the undergarments, especially, are made for girls with no hips and their "one size fits all" selections are a joke. And, finally. The soft porn in the dressing rooms made me giggle my first time around, but now I just find it distracting. I have to avert my eyes to focus on my own booty shake and not Kiki's.

I still get sucked in when I want a bright colored item with a clean line, but they need to step up their game (show some love for curves, improve quality, find a more sensible price point, tone down the scandalous shots of strangers - are you listening AA?) if they want to win back my heart.

Tuesday, March 06, 2007

Couch Potato

Our couch is no good. It looks fine - creamy oatmeal, clean lines - but it's stiff, the cushions always move out from under me, and it doesn't fit the two of us unless one is lying down with one's (his) feet on the other (me). I also think it'd be nice to have a pullout, so when my East Coast peeps come out I don't have to throw them on the floor. They're usually so ugly, though. (The pullouts, not my friends.)

I found this today. Don't think it answers the comfy/space problem when folded up, but it looks snappy and makes me want to have a pajama party.

Now that's the way to watch Lost.

Monday, March 05, 2007

Half a Baby Ruth

I woke up today, saw half a Baby Ruth sitting on the counter, and picked it up for breakfast. I quickly dropped it in horror. Not because I shouldn't eat candy bars for meal substitutes, but because I shouldn't eat them with guilt. Which apparently means it's time for BJA to work out. I don't have a gym membership and Billy Blanks is too big for our apartment, so I thought I'd give running (!?) a try. I haven't done it since junior year of high school at soccer tryouts - and I do believe I quit those for ballet.

Some people avoid the gym to avoid the scrutiny of others, but I think the gym's a safe place. Everyone is so preoccupied with their sports bra indents, butt sweat, and the mysterious difference between the abductor and adductor, that there's no time left for judging.

The real danger zone, my friends, is the streets. And I'm not talking about construction workers and their impressive vocabularies. Women think the reason to stay stationary is these dudes. Eh. It's not water slide fun, but let's not pretend we don't deal with this on a daily basis. Whether we're running or ordering a pumpkin slice at Starbucks, it's just a fact of life. Personally, it just makes me run away faster as I'm hauling my lady lumps up these hills.

No, no. It's the chicks I'm afraid of. I see a cute, put-together chick in my path and I will backtrack faster than Tom from Katie's advances. And while I know she's silently judging herself for hiding her flab under designer jeans that pull the junk in, or eating that fourth plate of tapas last night, or driving to her colonic this morning instead of walking, it doesn't take the sting out of her icy stare at my tomato face and Walmart sweat pants.

But, I did it. Now where's that nougaty goodness...

Thursday, March 01, 2007

BJA Recommends

McSweeney's - my trusty employer and the bringer of many good things - has a little section on their website called McSweeney's Recommends, which offers helpful suggestions on a vast array of topics. Definitely check it out - but not before you check out BJA Recommends, a new little feature I'm putting into test mode.

Here goes.

Old Navy jeans
They fit great, their lack of label keeps 'em guessing what mysterious designer brand you're rocking, and they steer clear of fake holes and frays. They're also under $40. Basically free!

Sleeping with a sleep mask
Slip one of those free airplane things on and you'll snag another two hours, I swear. Plus, you'll look a little like a Sugarbaker - never a bad thing.

Un Lun Dun
A young adult fantasy novel about a girl exploring a secret city underground London. Just started, but promises to be spooky and fantastic. I'll keep you posted.

Nature Valley Sweet and Salty Peanut Granola Bars
I ate hundreds of these during play rehearsals last spring and rediscovered them a couple weeks ago. Run, don't walk, to pick them up. Crack in a box.

Heated seats
Having a warm bum is entirely underrated.