Kimopolis

My kind of town.

Archive for the ‘Because I Said So’ Category

If I were the text messaging type, I might have named this category IMO or IMHO. However, I am FAR too verbose to even attempt to encapsulate my brilliance into a smattering of abbreviations and symbols. Heiroglyphics are SO BC.

For those of you who have no idea what IMO or IMHO means, allow me to translate:
IMO = In My Opinion
IMHO = In My Honest Opinion (not to be confused with IMAHO, which I am not)

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The Candy Cane

Posted by kimlno on December 15, 2009

See? Pretty.

Do you know what I have absolutely no use for? Candy canes.

Oh, I know that’s rather Grinch-like of me, but a co-worker gave me one this morning, and, as thoughtful as it was, I have no idea what to do with it. I mean, it’s a perfectly nice candy cane, as candy canes go…a real sized one, not those hinky “fun” sized canes which might as well just be a freakin’ mint because technically you can pop the whole thing into your mouth at once. Because, really, aren’t those round red and white striped mints they give you with the check after dinner just “fun” sized candy canes rolled into a ball and smushed? Think about it. They taste the same. Same colors. Same swirl. I have an inkling that every after dinner mint starts out as a “fun” sized candy cane, but after Christmas, the ones who’ve survived being crushed or completely pulverized into a fine minty dust, are recalled, reconstituted, and resold as peppermints. Perhaps not, but I guarantee you the candy cane people are in cahoots with the dinner mint people, so I wouldn’t put it past them.  I mean, it’s not like the candy gets stale or anything.  In fact, I’m pretty sure the peppermint has a half-life of about 85 years, give or take. It seems to me that no matter how long one of those things has been in the pocket of my winter coat (why is there always one in there anyway?), it still has all the same properties of a “fresh” mint. I can’t go so far as to say they taste good, and that’s exactly my problem with the candy cane itself, but an old peppermint is almost indistinguishable from a new one. You may not agree, but I bet in a blind taste test you wouldn’t be able to tell which one was which. Whoops. TANGENT. Sorry.

I want to be clear that I’m NOT a candy cane “hater”. Aesthetically, I think they’re very pleasing. They evoke a sentimental feeling of Christmas, and to be fair, Christmas just wouldn’t be Christmas without candy canes. I just don’t want to eat one. Ever. I honestly can’t think of a situation in which I’d be so desperate to actually consume a candy cane. Perhaps if I was stuck in a snow drift and the only thing between starving to death and clinging to life while I waited for my number one fan to come find me and dig me out was to eat a candy cane, I might eat one then. But, in general, candy canes are just plain disappointing. They’re a far better decoration than a food.

So, if you’re thinking of handing out candy canes this Christmas, ask yourself this first…would you want one?

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I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell, Too

Posted by kimlno on October 7, 2009

If you see this man, RUN.

If you see this man, RUN.

It’s been a couple of years since I read I Hope They Serve Beer In Hell by the infamous cad Tucker Max, but I still remember it as being one of the funniest books I’ve ever read. For those of you who don’t have any idea who I’m talking about, allow me to fill you in. Tucker Max wrote a memoir about all of his most depraved sexual exploits and cringe-worthy asshole behavior and he makes no apologies for being brutally honest and happy to share. (Kinda like me, huh?)

Maybe at the time I read his book, I’d overdosed on Chick Lit and his unabashed misogynistic tales were just the antidote I needed to snap me out of my “Someday My Prince Will Come” fantasy land. Maybe I liked it because I’ve actually known guys that think and act like Tucker, and to read of the countless women who fell for his shtick over and over again made me feel less sorry for myself and more thankful that I’d never sunk that low. Believe me, you’ve got to have some serious issues if you actively seek out Tucker Max and actually want him to sleep with you. Because, even before he wrote the book, Tucker kept a popular blog that detailed his predatory actions and made no effort whatsoever to conceal his “devil may care” attitude about sex with strangers and some really strange strangers, at that. (One word: Midgets.)

So, it still surprises me to no end the amount of vitriol most women feel towards this guy. They not only hate him, they think he should die, and wish horrible things upon him. Why? Sure, he’s a dick, but at least he’s being truthful about who he is. It’s not like any female nowadays could possibly accidentally have sex with this guy. Personally, if you’re so uninformed as to not know who he is prior to meeting him, Tucker in real life makes no effort to hide his ultimate “King of the Asshats” status. Believe me, if you met this dude at a bar, it would be blatantly apparent that he’s a womanizer, a dick, and probably just wants to bed you so that he can have another sordid story to add to the hundreds of others. He’s a total prick who wears it on his sleeve.

Don’t get me wrong. In no way am I commending this guy for his complete disregard for human feelings. Tucker Max is just plain wrong and really has no redeeming qualities. Nonetheless, his stories are priceless. And any woman who doesn’t think so obviously has been fooled by a man just like him (if not actually him). To me, their bitterness stems from an inner self-loathing that they let themselves fall for, or at least have sex with, a complete dickhead. Hey, ladies…it happens to the best of us. Instead of blaming Tucker for society’s ills, why not thank him for giving us a window into the hearts of (some) men? He does us all a favor by detailing the tell-tale signs of what a guy like Tucker acts like, a list of probable places to find such a guy, and even how to avoid becoming “that” girl.

Tucker Max, I just want to thank you. For making me laugh. For making me see how silly and narrow-minded certain women can be. But most of all, for giving me the tools to never fall prey to an A-Class Tool, such as you. Keep up the good work.

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Money Makes the World Go Around

Posted by kimlno on September 26, 2009

A mark, a yen, a buck, or a pound, it makes the world go 'round.

A mark, a yen, a buck, or a pound, it makes the world go 'round.

As much as some people may claim to abhor social networks and deem them the end of civilization and precursor to the apocalypse, sometimes they can be a useful forum in which to discuss relevant topics such as politics, environmental issues, and (not surprisingly) social affairs. True, the majority the time I spend on Facebook is dedicated to the discussion of the subtle nuances of the season finale of True Blood, or leveling up in Mafia Wars. However, on occasion, important issues are debated.

Such an instance took place shortly after I changed my status to read: “Kimberly Nordlinger is pretty sure money can buy you happiness. If you’re rich and sad, you’re doing it wrong.” I hardly thought my only semi-serious opinion would cause such a lively discussion amongst my friends, but then, you never really know what’s going to spark off the next great Facebook debate. These heated tete-a-tetes usually involve two of my more opinionated acquaintances who rarely, if ever, agree with one another.  However, being that they are both highly intelligent and insightful, their individual arguments, either pro or con, are always well thought out and quite indefensible.

One of them agreed with my status statement, and the other did not. Since I am always right, the one that shared my view, that more money would lead to more happiness, isn’t the one I took issue with, of course. The friend that immediately quoted real facts and figures regarding the correlation of wealth and happiness (a completely unfair tactic, if you ask me) is the one I felt the need to explain myself to. He claimed that studies have shown that people with less money are, in fact, happier than those with excess. Poppycock, I say. He continued to point out that money simply afforded the wealthy more freedom. Well, duh. He even went so far as to create an equation to clarify his point of view:

Freedom = Time = Whatever You Choose To Do = The Ability To Find Happiness

My other friend (and I) begged to disagree with his over simplistic explanation of the correlation between money and happiness. She went on to give specific examples of the things she would be able to do if she had unlimited funds, and how they would, without a doubt, increase her happiness quotient. Because I respect her privacy, I won’t share her wish list, however I will instead substitute mine. If I had access to large sums of money, I would make immediate changes to my current status. Most importantly, I would either attempt to have, or adopt, a child. Of course, I’d like to buy my own home, a new car, and give everyone of my friends and family whatever their hearts desired…but mostly, I’d just like to be a mom. Without the proper financial resources, it would be socially irresponsible of me, and possibly detrimental to the development of a healthy, happy child, to do so.

Of course my opponent was quick to point out that many people have children who can’t afford to. In addition, having a child isn’t a guarantee of future happiness, and, although they may be loathe to admit it, being a parent is a choice some even regret. Indeed we all agreed on this point in particular. Still, given the opportunity, I’d like the chance to find out for myself.

I am not so naive to think that money can solve any problem. I’d even be willing to admit that, for some, money can lead to a world of misery and sorrow. However, no amount of money could possibly buy me more time. I have all the time in the world. And, believe me, I am NOT complaining. I love that I have the freedom to do whatever I want. It’s my personal financial constraints that keep me inexorably tied to the reality of my situation. So, and I am only speaking for myself, the money-happiness equation looks more like this:

My Life + More Money = More Opportunities for Increased Happiness

Who knows? Perhaps if I had billions of dollars, I’d feel just the same way as I do about my life now. It’s possible that more money would just lead to more problems. Some would say that I don’t have a husband, or children, because that’s actually the way I want it to be (the inescapable influence of a self-fulfilling prophecy, perhaps?). Those same people would probably assert that even if I were filthy rich, my life would still have followed the exact same course. Maybe they’re right. All I’m saying is, I’d love to have the opportunity to experience being wealthy first-hand, and then draw my own conclusions.

Donations are now being accepted at http://kimopolis.com.

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Raisins Ruin Everything

Posted by kimlno on September 11, 2009

Raisin

Raisin

Why is it that everything that has cinnamon in it ALWAYS has raisins in it too? Is there some unwritten epicurean law that I am unaware of that mandates the coupling of these two ingredients? For once, I’d like to bite into a cinnamon roll and NOT have my unsuspecting taste buds assaulted by withered fruit. Raisins ruin everything. Don’t get me wrong, I like raisins. Just don’t go hiding them in my food. Raisins are fine all by themselves. They’re sweet and tasty and make the perfect snack, but if you insist on adding them to salads (BLEECH!) or jello (“But, Lane, you love raisins.”) I am going to have to call a Food Foul.

As long as we’re discussing salads, do you know what else is NOT okay to put in a salad? NUTS. Just keep your slivered almonds and pesky pistachios OUT of my lettuce. That goes double for sunflower seeds. An uninformed diner could choke to death on one of those tiny food assassins, and they’re too damn small to pick out every single one. Nuts and seeds are fine on their own, I’ll even go as far as allowing nuts, seeds, and raisins to co-exist together in a nice hearty trail mix, but they are meant to be enjoyed separately. They are not a garnish, they are a snack food. If I find them in my salad, I’m gonna be pissed.

Another food that’s fine on its own, but should NEVER be coupled with anything else besides carrots in a simple cru d’ete, is celery. Celery does not belong in TUNA. At no point should tuna be CRUNCHY! That’s disgusting. Want to ruin a perfectly good stuffing? Put celery in it. You might as well add some nuts and raisins while you’re at it, because I’m not going to eat it. Not every food needs to have “texture”! This isn’t Top Chef! Michael Ciccarello is not judging you on your creativity and none of the above ingredients are part of a “Quick Fire Challenge”.

While we’re on the subject, the only proper way to serve onions is deep fried. Don’t go sneaking any onions into my tuna, either. But, most importantly, do NOT put onions in my enchilada. When enjoying a cheesy, gooey enchilada, smothered in red sauce, the last thing I want is to crunch down on a hard, raw piece of onion. Are you happy, now, because you just ruined my dinner?!? If you insist on adding onions to something, they should be cooked well enough as to be unrecognizable to the human eye. Translucent, small, and indistinguishable from the food in which it has been added to. Any other method of onion adding is just plain WRONG.

Furthermore, as a general rule, don’t put cold, wet things on my sandwich. Maybe you haven’t noticed but bread is not good when it’s soggy. Just save the lettuce and tomato to make a nice side salad. Oh, and all you grill masters out there? Don’t even consider putting that ice cold vegetable crap on my hot juicy burger. I will cut you.

(Can you tell I’m on a diet?)

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Evan Rachel Wood(en) Is NOT Sophie-Anne Leclerq

Posted by kimlno on August 31, 2009

Um, no.

Um, no.

NOTE: If you don’t watch True Blood, don’t even bother reading this. It won’t make any sense, and you’ll probably just think I’m a bitch (if you don’t already). Secondly, start watching True Blood. Oh, and read Charlaine Harris’ Sookie Stackhouse series while you’re at it. Go on, now. Scoot.

Three words: Evan. Rachel. Wood(en). SO unimpressed. Did she not get the memo that she was portraying an 1,100-year-old vampire, and not a cheap 20-something tramp with poor taste in furniture and fangbangers (Did you see that ludicrous line up of what I am assuming were supposed to be delicious human morsels? It looked more like an audition for the Broadway cast of Hair, if you ask me.)? Perhaps I am biased, because I’ve read the books, and maybe that’s spoiled me…maybe no actress would’ve been good enough. However, really ANYONE would have been better than Ms. Wood(en). Let’s pick her apart, shall we?

She lacked poise and grace. She was nervous and unsure. She moved like an awkward young girl who’d never worn heels before. And, to make matters worse, she was less than intimidating, and honestly, her acting (if you can call it that) was stiff and arch. I no more believed she was a seasoned vampire, ruling the entire state of Louisiana, mind you, than I believe in the Tooth Fairy. Faeries, maybe. But the Tooth Fairy? No.

She gave me the feeling that her only qualifications for playing a vampire were the fact that she dated Marilyn Manson and has an unhealthy predilection for Goth fashion. She was certainly not hired for her ability to emote convincingly. To be frank, I cannot wait until she’s killed off…if that’s indeed what eventually occurs. Okay, here’s where I am going to discuss the Sookie books, so be forewarned…SPOILERS AHEAD. Please do quit reading now if you don’t want to know what happens. Not that Alan Ball is sticking even remotely with the original storyline, but just in case…right?

For those of us who’ve read the Sookie Stackhouse series, we know that Bill later on reveals that Sophie-Anne Leclerq (STOP READING NOW, this is your last warning) hired vampire Bill to seek out Sookie and essentially coerce her to fall in love with him. As you can imagine, this puts a great strain on Bill and Sookie’s relationship. But in tonight’s episode of True Blood, neither Sophie-Anne nor Bill acknowledged their covert Sookie-seduction, or that it’s even a matter of interest in their grand plan. Aside from mentioning she’d like to meet Sookie one day, Sophie-Anne hardly gave her more than a passing moment of thought. Too busy playing Yahtzee, I suppose.*

And, excuse me, but what’s this with her making out with Eric in next week’s episode? I thought she liked GIRLS. Did she bone him in the books? If she did, I don’t remember it, so I’m just going to pretend it didn’t happen. All I know is that Evan had better take her hands off my man Eric or else…there WILL be blood. HERS, all over that tacky marbled “day room” floor. God, even Liberace would’ve been offended by those awful chandeliers juxtaposed with those sad-looking, taxidermied seagulls. I mean, REALLY.

On a TOTALLY unrelated note, did anyone else notice Todd English’s freakishly large head on Top Chef? So, off-putting. I wonder if he had anything to do with the band Big Head Todd and the Monsters? If not, quite the odd coincidence, don’t you think?

*Yahtzee? Really?!? Couldn’t they think of a more dignified parlor game to pass the millennia playing? Bridge, perhaps? A little Canasta? Snooker? She might as well have busted out the game of Life. At least that would’ve been slightly ironic, and not just plain moronic.

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