In Da Club

There are all kinds of addictions. I believe we all have at least one addiction and the only thing that separates us is the fact that some addictions are more socially or morally acceptable than others. I've watched enough episodes of the A&E show Intervention to see the similarities (and glaring distinctions) between some of the more "popular" compulsions. You know, the ones that require months at rehab, 12 step programs and complete reformation. I'm not too interested in blogging about these, more serious issues today. Nope. Instead, I'm here to make a confession of my own. I, ladies and gents, have a bit of a problem. My name is Mrs. Oz and I am addicted to:

I'm pretty sure if Costco isn't already on the list of "Stuff White People Like" it will be there soon. In my line of work I am well steeped in all things consumer and marketing related so I can usually see through the tricks and trappings of retail. I can sniff a gimmick from a mile away. That being said, I'm a HUGE sucker for Costco. We have one in my hood so Mr. Oz and I probably take a trip there once every few weeks. Today was sample day. Score! The end of each aisle held some tasty treat for us to try. Waffle fries w/ white cheddar, bacon spreadin goodness . . . Wolfgang Puck pizza . . . heat and eat meatballs . . . yogurt . . . fresh grilled salmon. Hell yeah. We practically had our lunch consumed by the end of our visit. While the product demos are exciting and oh so yummy, they are really not the reason for my addiction. I love the treasure hunt adventure of finding something new AND getting a sweet deal. Those folks at Costco are mighty smart. They know how to keep it fresh by mixing up the usual favorites with brand new gadgets, sauces, clothes, books and the like. Damn I love Costco. Lest you think this is all about the food. Here's my latest purchase -- a beautiful and abundant pot of firey orange mums for the front patio. How Fall-tastic and Autumn-riffic is this? OK, OK. I also bought 2 bags of Pirate's Booty, some of those Wolfgang Puck pizzas and a pile of strawberries, blueberries and avocados. What? I don't think I need an intervention from discount, warehouse shopping . . . do you? If I had to stop, I'm sure I could do it. But, why would I want to or need to?

The Dog Ate My Homework

There is a lot to worry about these days. We have a war based on false pretenses still raging in Iraq. Our economy is in the crapper and shows no real signs of ceasing its plummet. David Duchoveny is suffering from a terrible sex addiction and I can't get the smell of rotten fruit out of my refrigerator. BUT, thank goodness we have someone like John McCain running for President of the U.S. I'm sure he can save us from at least one of these disastrous events -- my bet is he can help cure David Duchovney of his porn induced malady.

So, I'm being sarcastic. I'm not a McCain fan. Really. But, you have to admit this so-called Maverick does seem to be sporting a pair. Why do I say this? Well, only someone with balls of steel would try a stunt like this.

C'mon! Seriously? First it was the old "we need to postpone the RNC because of Hurricane Gustav" excuse so he didn't have to reveal himself as the boring, crusty, worn out, just following Bush's footsteps, non-change agent that he is. Naysayers (and Republican lovers) can cry foul at my cynisism and try to tell me that McCain really did care about the impending natural disaster. His heart went out to those poor Gulf Coast citizens. I politely disagree.

Now, we are led to believe that he truly has the best interests of the nation at heart and, as such, wants to suspend his campaign to focus on the financial crisis. Dude. Obviously, McCain is just looking to duck out of the debates with Obama and he's pulling the well oiled "the dog ate my homework" trick. I guess in this case, it is more like "the Wall Street Bankers shat in my underwear" excuse.

While I could really take this whole decision to task and claim McCain was scared to face Obama in a debate, I won't. No. I will take a different approach. Here are two examples of McCain threatening to hold his proverbial breathe until crap blows over and things get better. Well, guess what Johnny? Stuff just doesn't go away. Crisis is always on the verge of breaking out. Bad stuff will continue to happen. I don't think I'm interested in a president who just stays put and closes the door hoping that others will make it better while he waits it out. Now is the right time to have a debate and talk about how the next president needs to get us out of this mess. Now is the perfect time to engage in a dialogue and then action. Now is not the time for "the dog ate my homework" excuse. Sorry Maverick. You suck.

Food For Thought

Today, Mr. Oz sent me this interesting Op/Ed piece from the NY Times. While I enjoy a good burger and an occasional steak, I am also very aware that in pursuing our gastronomy of meat we humans are, well, not extremely humane. What really struck me in this article was the way in which the author describes his experience observing the unique personalities and character of the farm animals he grew up with as a child. His commentary on the familial bonds displayed by geese was particularly touching.

As a child I spent some time on my grandparents farm and saw the cattle, chickens and ducks they raised for food. These animals were always (as far as I could tell) treated well, given lots of space to roam, were fed and sheltered. I guess the life they had, albeit brief, would be considered a good one. A part of me is comforted by this. Now, I think about where my food -- particularly the meat on my plate -- comes from and I cringe. This editorial gave me pause to reflect further on my own humanity and what I choose as my nourishment. I don't profess to be among the converted to a strictly vegetarian diet. Remember, I love a juicy burger! However, I'm going to be more aware of the choices I make and try to do my part to reduce the pain and suffering of soulful creatures. I do believe all life is precious and should be used wisely and with compassion.

I promise to write about more lighthearted topics in the days to come. Seriously. Just wanted to share. Free range chicken here I come!

My Color Is Pagoda Blue

In my quest to recreate the Oz household space and infuse a little freshness into our palette and surrounds, I've been getting input and creative inspiration from friends and colleagues alike. Comments have ranged from "why don't you just sell everything and start over" to "all you need is a new tea kettle." I'm looking for something in between -- a happy medium that doesn't require me to burn all of my worldly possessions but also amounts to a noticeable improvement. One of my trusted advisers turned me onto this web site called Apartment Therapy. I've only spent a few moments checking it out, but am already loving it. Lots of cool ideas and tricks to make an old space feel new again.

While I was perusing I spotted a link to Colorstrology. It's a Pantone thing where you select your birthday month and they it spits out what color you are. Apparently I'm Pagoda Blue. "Deep and meditative, this color signifies wisdom, truth and optimism." Hurrah, I say. Hurrah. All the things I strive for in my life all wrapped up in this gorgeous blue, emerald type color. Who would have known this was MY color? It also says that wearing Pagoda Blue can help promote tolerance and understanding. This has been my problem all along. I'm not wearing Pagoda Blue dammit. I must find myself some sweater, shawl, wrap or pair of shoes in this color ASAP.

I'm curious to know what color you are in the Colorstrology my friends. And, once you have identified your color, do you agree with its assessment of you and your characteristics? Let me know. Also, if you have any home decorating tips, I'm all ears. Let me have it.

Rockin It Out With Princess Sushi and The Gang

Last night my childhood dream came true. No, I did not run away with Andy Gibb -- God rest his soul. Nope. My OTHER childhood dream came true. I played drums, bass and sang lead in a rock band. It may not come as a surprise to you, but we -- as a technologically advanced society -- have evolved from board games and cards to a new form of all-family entertainment. Move over Monopoly and cribbage with your dusty old dice and your paper and pencil score keeping. You are obsolete, done, finished, SO over. The new thing for all the cool kids these days is to gather around the warm glow of the X-Box 360 and participate in, what I can only describe as, a cross between karaoke and joining your own cover band -- Rock Band baby, Rock Band. If you have ever fantasized about being Axl Rose or Flea from the Red Hot Chili Peppers (and might I add, "ick" on the latter and "scary" on the former), this game is for you.

I am pleased to report, that Mr. Oz and I absolutely LOVED it!

Our good friends Jenny and Ryan broke out the hospitality and the console to deflower the Rock Band virgins that we were. Oh we rocked their fine Woodbury casbah kickin out a mix of old school hard rock, punk and Seattle grunge. I'm not ashamed to say that I provided some vocal stylings to the likes of Soundgarden's Black Hole Sun and Radiohead's Creep. Yeah, I did. I also might have played drums on a rendition of a classic Who song, but who's bragging? Mr. Oz crooned Rush's Tom Sawyer. Thanks be to Princess Sushi and Senor Sushi for the good eats, great fun and wild tunes.

Some pics of "the band." Mr. Oz working the bass. Princess Sushi on guitar and that's JoJo Fries doing her best Simon Le Bon. No autographs please.




I am officially sold. Now, we just have to find Rock Band for the Nintendo Wii and we're all set. Everyone is invited over to our house of Rock Band part deux when we get it. Rock On!!

Segway Superstar

Desperately hanging on to the dregs of summer yet welcoming the morning chill of fall, I spent the day with my fellow co-workers on a Segway. After a brief lesson, a few minutes spent trying on our helmets and a comical safety video that was not unlike those high school drivers ed movies (i.e. "Blood on the Highway") of yore, we were off on our tour of the historic St. Anthony Falls stretch of Minneapolis. Although I can't speak for everyone, I personally had a great time cruising on my "human stick" checking out the magical mystery sights of the Mississippi River, the old mills (now converted into expensive downtown condos), the Stone Arch Bridge, new Guthrie Theater, Boom Island and Nicollet Island.

There were a total of 13 Segwayers, including our two tour guides and I'm sure we were a sight to behold for any passersby. Forming our single file line like obedient school children, stiff armed and tightly wound, we all attempted to stay up right, not tip over or hit one of the path runners who came our way. Apparently, if you wanted to purchase an actual Segway for personal use it would set you back upwards of $5,000 to $9,000. This got me to thinking about who buys these little gyroscope fed pieces of machinery. I guess I have seen some police driving Segways on downtown, pedestrian beats. I could also envision some uber rich CEO type -- probably from a high tech firm of some sort -- tooling around a warehouse style office space on a Segway. But who else? Little old ladies who are too hip to be caught dead on a Rascal? Teenagers or college kids hauling ass across campus? The Segway is far too expensive for the social security dependent, Medicare crowd, not too mention the risk of grandma falling off and shattering a hip. Aye Carumbu! And what kind of college student can afford such a lavish mode of solitary transport? The average 22 year old wants a sporty car with 17 inch rims and a Bose sound system to pump the bass.

With all this talk of sustainability, environmental protection and alternative forms of energy, we really need to take another look at the Segway as a platform for transportation of the future. BUT, there needs to be significant changes made in order to market this to the masses. For one, we need some passenger room. I want a Segway side car or trailer hitch. Then you would have to trick it out with a rag top, flames and fuzzy dice. A hot sound system and a hydraulic lift and you got yourself a mean ride my friends. Pimp my Segway beeatch!!

I think I've just struck upon a way to revitalize the US car manufacturing industry. Screw the hybrid cars. Lets get on the Segway Superhighway. It may not be fast or flashy, but it sure is fun.

Word.