The Mock Dock

Remember the Thriller dance? Yeah. Those crazy prisoners have done a whole new tribute to Michael Jackson, and it’s every bit as sapped out and cheesarific as you might imagine.

You know what? I think this should be required in all prisons. Forced glee club and jazz hands and Thriller choreography. It could either be a great deterrent or a way to soften up the hardest criminals. You can’t be mad when you’re dancing to I’ll Be There or Ben, for crying out loud.

I just got home from my glorious girlfriend getaway weekend, after having a deliciously decadent breakfast and an hour long manicure this morning, and in about an hour I’m heading over to my mom’s for my official family birthday dinner, at which I will get to eat her famous beef and noodles, and then I PROMISE I am totally done celebrating, you guys.

Here’s what I’m worried is happening.  The more I celebrate my birthday, the more celebrities keep dying.  I just learned that BILLY FREAKING MAYS died now.  I’m starting to think that there’s some sort of weird cause-and-effect thing happening here, and I feel bad now.  I’m like some sort of freaky birthday killer, and I don’t really want a horror movie being made about me, so at approximately 7.3opm this evening, all celebrating will come to a close.  Hopefully, celebrities can just keep themselves out of trouble between now and 7.30pm.

Sorry for being all non-posty-like today, but I got up early this morning to head to Daisy’s house and then on to our girl’s weekend at West Baden resort.  And you guys, it’s 7.30pm and we are already back in our room, because we are EXHAUSTED from all of the vigorous and brutal relaxation that we endured today. 

On the way here, we got pulled over for speeding, which kind of sucked, because the cop gave Daisy a ticket, but it was kinda fun because I covertly videotaped the ticketing process just to be silly, and after the cop walked back to his car, and I was able to take the camera out of my lap and actually aim it directly at Daisy, she said, “He can blow me.”  And I giggled SO MUCH over that, and even though it’s sucky to get a ticket, the whole thing was kind of hilarious.

The resort itself is AMAZING.  Just unlike anything I’ve ever seen.  Daisy said it reminds her a bit of a really upscale and fabulous version of the hotel in The Shining – and I think that’s about right.  We got here around 11am, and headed straight to the pool, where we spent about 3 hours lounging on comfy cushiony chairs and wading in bath-temperature water.  It didn’t suck.

We checked into our absolutely beautiful room – which has a bathroom bigger than my entire family room.  And everything is all marble and gorgeous and fancified.  And there are two showers -one which is a stand-up and one which is part of a bathtub.  And so I said, “OMG we could totally take showers at the same time!” and Daisy was like, “OMG I  KNOW!” and of course we had absolutely no INTENTION of taking showers at the same time, but the point is, we COULD, you guys.

Once we got all showered and into respectable clothing, we headed down to the spa for pedicures.  And the spa is every bit as luxurious as you might expect, only way more so.  We had refreshing tea and waited in the tranquility room for our spa technicians to fetch us.  They came, and deposited us into the most glorious pedicure chairs EVER.  They reclined and massaged and tilted and everything!  If they would have also magically transported Robbie Williams into the room to serenade us, I seriously would not have been surprised.  THAT is how great the chairs were. 

So after an hour and 15 minutes of foot massages and toe beautifying, we left to hit the bar for our free martinis.  And with drinks in hand, we went for dinner to Sinclair’s, and had a SINFULLY perfect dinner.  I swear I have never tasted better lobster bisque EVER.

And now, we’re in our room, in matching collegiate nighties (Daisy in TN and me in UGA), and hotel robes, and we’re watching Fox News.  WE ARE OLD, you guys. 

But, it turns out, that old is really really really really good. 

BEST. LONGEST LASTING BIRTHDAY. EVER.

Cannot get enough of Ricky Gervais.

LOVE.

When people have so much time on their hands that they can create fruitastic stuff like this.  This could be the world’s coolest apple sculpture of the earth ever.

Do you see it?

So I’m heading home from work this afternoon, and I pulled up behind this.  I don’t know about you all, but this is one of the singlemost stupidest things I think I have ever seen.

What kind of message is one trying to send when one “enhances” one’s super expensive car in this manner?  Was I supposed to be intimidated by the car?  Was I supposed to find it extra mysterious?  Was I to assume the car’s owner was, in fact, a white tiger?

Hate.

If anyone out there knows anyone out there who finds this body type attractive, please alert me at once.  I have so many questions.  Like, for example, “What sort of crack are you smoking?”  That would be my first one.

An alert and astute mockdocker sent me this photo and I’m wondering if it’s an ad for shoes.  She’s either looking at her own shoes, or she’s checking to see if she has a penis.  I can’t quite tell which.

And as a day-after birthday present to myself, I’m posting this wretched photo that an alert and astute mockdocker sent me of this wretched beast of a woman.

You know what Holmes said about Kate Gosselin at lunch today?  He said it’s just a matter of time before she’s posing nude for Playboy or some other publication.  He’s probably right.  This is just a tiny bit of blue fabric away from that anyway.

An alert and astute mockdocker sent me this photo and I don’t know about you guys, but there is something really really really really wrong here.  I mean, it’s obvious that whoever cut her hair didn’t even it out in the back AT ALL.