Finger Fun

Finger puppets - such an icon of childhood. But what message are these seemingly harmless toys telling our children? I recently asked myself this question on a trip to Ikea.

Take a gander at this first set o' finger fun:

I deduct the message told by this set of finger puppets is: 'Animals are fun and a little frightening.' On the thumb we apparently have an Eclectus parrot, followed by an aging lion, a disproportionate elephant, a dentally gifted mouse and a moose who probably has some antler anxiety. Fun. I like my animals a little neurotic.

The next set went a little deeper, on a philosophical level:

Seeing as the theme of this set was obviously 'family,' I think it's safe to say that some bold choices were made. The bride and groom are in their wedding clothes, but already have two children. Very progressive. Also, they are clearly haunted by the ghost of their past. Interesting addition, but honest, no? And they dress their baby like an idiot. Just sayin'.

But the best set of finger puppets is most definitely this last one. It deals with occupations.

That's right, kids. You can be a nurse, chef, fireman, scuba diver or...Santa.

I know which one I would pick.

Fit to Print

As many of you know, I am deep in the throes of decorating my new apartment, which is awful and amazing all at the same time. It's amazing because I finally have the chance to design my very own space! No roommates, boyfriends, cats or parents to give their opinion and break my shit. And now whenever I have people over, my apartment will communicate a little bit about me - my personality, taste and cleanliness level. But it's awful because I have to make some tough decisions! For example, do I NEED this print from printspace on Etsy?

What about if I hang it next to this one?

I'm such a romantic. I just love when posters/movies/people motivate you, but not in a terribly cheesy way, especially since my new apartment is being prepared to be the 'Berkeley Undergrad, Take Too Many Credits Every Semester Rad Pad.' So I need to remember that I am following my dreams when it's seventy degrees outside and my friends are making mint juleps in Dolores Park.

Also, my bathroom just tapped me on the shoulder and requested this print from papernstitch:

So many decisions! I think I should just take it slowly. Plus, if I have any sincere interest in checking 'Be featured on Apartment Therapy' off my bucket list, then I'm going to have to get more creative than just hanging poster prints in Ikea frames.

Ummm...Hot?

I feel strange right now. And I blame Lady Gaga. I mean, I know it's not cool to think that getting gang raped by a bunch of gay dudes with bowl cuts is hot, but...I mean, Gaga did it. And now it's hot. Whatever she does, it becomes the cool new thing.

I really hope her next video is about finding a really great Jewish boy who is handsome, but not intimidatingly so, educated, smart and funny and then dating him for two years, getting engaged, and then having two or three really attractive babies and settling down just outside Manhattan. Then people could stop thinking I'm so type-A and I would instead be edgy and sophisticated.

Sad

Right now I am sad. But that is OK. I just have to think about all those things I wrote about that make me happy. Actually, fuck that. I'm going to think about some new things that make me happy.

1. I like when other people besides me have permanent eye shadow around their eyes.

2. I like tubing on the Russian River. And the Farmington River. But, more recently, the Russian River.

3. I like the Tut Cuvee from Iron Horse Vineyards, especially when sampling it with friends who are happy to be alive.

4. I like this glass of wine I'm drinking.

5. I like this boy.

5. I like being a good baker.

6. I'm going to Ikea this week to get the final touches for me new apartment, like shelves for the bathroom.

7. I like when people at my Berkeley orientation say 'Tele-Bears' because, even though I know they mean the online class registration thingy, I imagine all these little teddy bears with TVs on their bellies dancing around.

8. I like when babies are dressed as animals. Watch out, Tatiana. Your daughter won't be safe!!! I'll make her a Tele-Bear!!!

9. I like that it's OK to be sad sometimes.

Goodnight all.

Things I Like

I like when you put your arm on the table, perpendicular to your body, and then you arch your shoulder juuuust the right way, and you make a really deep crater with your armpit. Try it sometime.

Or, better yet, the next time you hang with me, I can do a demonstration/tutorial. I'm cool with people touching my pits. Actually, I think it would be awesome because I paid thousands of dollars to have my Jewish armpits lasered and I want people to be able to appreciate how hairless they are as much as I do.

What? I'm not weird. You are.

Answered

Me: Two questions.

God: OK.

Me: Have you ever thought that there was a grain of quinoa on your finger from dinner, and then ate it, and then realized it was a booger because you can pick your nose anywhere you want because you live alone, and then spit it out and then spend ten minutes on your hands and knees looking for the booger you almost ate?

God: No.

Me: Good. That would be gross.

God: You had another question?

Me: Why am I single?

Answered

Me: Are YOU making Hulu run slow?

God: Your English sucks.

Me: Sooooo...

God: For the love of me, pick up a book, woman.

Order's Up

Sleepy Melanie: I'll have a cup of coffee, cream and a touch of brown sugar, and two egg whites scrambled with spinach, served over some Brooklyn-style potatoes.

Chef Melanie: Coming right up!

Health Conscious Melanie: Maybe use only a touch of oil?

Chef Melanie: No problem!

Sleepy Melanie: You guys look pretty.

All: Thank you!

A Love Letter to Ryan Farr

Dear Ryan Farr,

I love you. And, wait, don't get all creeped out because someone once told me that you are married and I am so OK with that because my love isn't sexy-time love, it's unconditional forever love, like the kind you have for your baby blanket or brontosauruses. Although you are super cute, like here:

But, again, it's not like I want to jump your bones. Well, seeing as it's you I'm writing to, maybe I do want to jump your deliciously butchered pig bones. But, to be clear, even though I think you are mega handsome and your smile lights up a room, I do not want to have sex with you. And I mean that as a compliment. Moving on.

I love you because you've made butchers cool again. When I describe you to people who don't know you, I call you an 'indie rock butcher.' You're so bad ass. You are the kind of butcher that little kids who want to be butchers can look up to and be cool. Some might even use the term 'role model.' While I love the old school Italian butchers who give me free samples in the best deli ever in Queens, NY, they lack that X-factor. They just aren't very rock-n-roll. But, you, Ryan Farr, you are rock-n-roll. Even when you are playing Lord of the Flies.

I still want to hang out with you, you bloodless pig cutter. I trust you, somehow. Even though I've had nightmares that look exactly like this:

Until recently, I was a vegetarian. I know, I know - I'm embarrassed about it as well. It's like a secret tattoo of shame that I carry on my heart. Although I prefer it to my two actual tattoos of shame. But that's a different story of tramp stamps and bad decisions, and this story is about you. Not only are your meats tasty, but you have a killer blog, which obviously is something I would be a fan of. What? Why is that obvious? I don't know. Stop judging, Ryan Farr, and just be complimented. I love that I can turn to you if I ever need to remove the face of anything.

I love how much you love SF. I love how you are active in community events. I love that you teach classes on making the most of dead animals. I love that sometimes I see you and get all giggly 'cause you are kinda famous, but you still walk around all normal-like in your pork shirts. Oh, and I love that you picked me as the winner of that contest and that you let me get a poster as a prize instead of a tee shirt because that was so bitchy of me to even ask.

There are many more reasons that I love you, but I'm writing this at Ritual Coffee, and I've been here for awhile and I can feel the barrista judging me and it feels bad because I'm having a fat day, so I'm going to end it here.

Thanks for everything, Ryan Farr. You are one-in-a-million.

Love,

Melanie Kameko Duve

PS I got these great pics of you from notes from the zeitgeist, Eat Foo and KQED.