Friday, February 29, 2008
Today's entry was: Your Life Has Purpose & Meaning. Which, after initially reading, I scrawled simply, "What is my purpose?" I kind of want to pinch myself really hard right now, hard enough to leave bruise marks. And I'd also kind of like to know the answer. I know this, as of a few weeks ago it stopped being "to get really drunk and act like a jerk-face to the amusement of whoever happened to be close enough to hear my yammering".
What about you, dear readers? Do you know your purpose? Do tell.
Friday, February 22, 2008
My pal Alty featured a link to this heart-warming, delightful article on her blog and I had to share. Sometimes I am sad that I haven't met the right person to be my husband yet...and then I read this, and darned if it didn't fill me with hope. So for all you love birds out there, enjoy!
MOUNT CLEMENS, Michigan (AP) -- A man who killed and dismembered his wife was sentenced Thursday to serve at least 50 years behind bars by a judge who called his actions "demonic."
Stephen Grant choked his wife, Tara, to death, then cut up her corpse in a machine shop. After the killing, he tearfully told reporters he wasn't involved in her disappearance.
"Stephen Grant is evil personified," Prosecutor Eric Smith said.
Grant, on the advice of his lawyer, did not speak during the sentencing.
A jury found him guilty in December of second-degree murder. Prosecutors had sought a first-degree murder conviction, but the jury could not unanimously agree that Grant's actions were premeditated.
The defense was seeking a sentence of 15 to 25 years. But Macomb County Circuit Judge Diane Druzinski agreed with the prosecution recommendation of a sentence of 50 to 80 years for the killing.
The judge called Grant's actions "demonic, manipulative, barbaric and dishonest." Grant also received six to 10 years for mutilating the body, to run concurrently with the longer sentence.
Grant, 38, showed little emotion during the hearing, although he looked troubled as Alicia Standerfer, Tara Grant's sister, described how the couple's two young children are struggling with the loss of their mother at the hands of their father.
"He's so much of a coward, he doesn't even look me in the eye in the courtroom," Standerfer said afterward.
Grant contacted the Macomb County sheriff's department on February 14, 2007, and said he had not seen his 34-year-old wife, an operations manager for a large construction firm, since they argued February 9 about her frequent business trips overseas.
On March 2, after allowing deputies with a search warrant inside his home, Grant borrowed a friend's pickup truck and drove away. The deputies found Tara Grant's torso in a container in the garage.
Authorities picked up Grant's trail by tracking cell phone calls that led them to Wilderness State Park, more than 200 miles north. He was found hiding under a tree and wearing only a shirt, slacks and socks in 14-degree weather.
During the trial, a jury heard a graphic, three-hour recorded confession Grant gave while being treated for frostbite and hypothermia at a hospital. They also heard testimony from the Grants' nanny, who said she had sex with Grant the night before he strangled his wife.
Copyright 2008 The Associated Press. All rights reserved.This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, or redistributed. (except in my blog so suck it)
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
This song is the jam. This song, which I have had on repeat since roughly 2:30 PM or so today, makes me want to leave my desk right now, report directly to a happy hour, shotgun 3-5 glasses of a reasonably priced pinot noir, and then slow dance up close and personal like with someone, maybe let's say, someone I work with who may or may not have a girlfriend. Our actions together could include a ratty old b&w photo booth in the, oh I don't know, the Lakeside Lounge and the results would ensure that by week's end, he DEFINITELY would not have a girlfriend. This is not to say he'd become my boyfriend. I'd be too hungover to listen to him whining about how he thought he may have made a mistake to offer any sympathy or even my couch since his ass was kicked out of their Park Slope co-op- because no one and I repeat, NO ONE is moving into the Barber household until he does so by being legally married to my ass. No thunks.
Instead I'd fix a glare on him, blow a plume of smoke in his face and say "What do you want me to do about it, cupcake?" in a sort of raspy, exhausted Faye Dunaway voice- one that sounded like a come-on and a death threat at once, coated in honey and edged with a razor-y rasp. And that would be that.
Thanks Whitney, and thank you alcohol. You make things work out so nicely.
This was rediscovered as a direct result of my friend Wendy Ho and a delightful tribute to her from a sexy, sassy gal named Jazzmun. I am a new forever fan and plan to drop in to Club Cobra on my next California sojurn. Fierce, fabulous and oh, so Whitney-riffic- check out that link for a rendition to remember.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Wow. I mean, WOW.
My roommate Porter and I were discussing Miami Sound Machine the other night, do not ask me why (I was late for a wedding shower but could not resist the dissection of their first hit CD Primitive Love, which my Dad owned). And we both recalled this song gem with delight and fondness. It would be an understatement to say I absolutely used to LOVE this song. Surely, it was used in every mixed boys & girls dance class for the recital circa 1984, no? Because it sure as hell was in mine. "Bad" being the operative term.
Enjoy the alternate cast of "CATS", or, if the very suggestion of human adults clad in spandex and fake fur would cause you to have nightmares for the remainder of your earthly life, click here for an alternate take of the video (because one is NEVER enough when it comes to Gloria Estafan, people. GET IT RIGHT). Up to you.