Flyer Spyer: Mischa Barton

We hear that Mischa Barton (Marissa Cooper from The O.C.) was in town over the weekend and eating at the Rendezvous with a male companion. Apparently, she looked thin (not a big surprise for O.C. fans or Perez Hilton readers) and was wearing a short purple and pink dress and Chuck Taylors.

Anyone know why she was in town? Hit us up: cashiola@memphisflyer.com.

Handiwork

On my way home Wednesday, I was praying I wouldn't run into anyone I know.

My friend Beth (aka Memphis Roller Derby's Akilles Wheel) recently started doing henna and when I heard she needed guinea pigs to practice on, I signed up to help.

I picked out a design that would go on the back of my hand — it seemed the best space given that henna goes on in a paste and needs to dry for eight hours — and Beth got right to work. After she was done, however, it was late in the evening and there was a question of how I was going to sleep.

But Beth was prepared. She packed the design with cotton and then wrapped cling wrap all around the hand and wrist. It looked ridiculous — like a recession era homemade cast — but it worked.

Here is what it looks like today:


You can see other samples of her work here. Or you can find her at Memphis In May's Beale Street Music Fest.

Sprouted ... then Stomped

I don't know if I've mentioned this here — and apparently I'm too lazy to use the search function — but this year I planned to plant a garden.

(This was before Michelle Obama started hers. I'm not saying she copied me, but maybe we're both plugged into the same culture zeitgeist.)

First, I thought a container garden was the way to go. (I've got limited space and I found this handy web guide, coincidentally done by a friend of mine.)

Then another friend of mine pointed out that I might not have as much light as I think. And he was right. After careful study, it looks like any one spot near my house will only get about four hours of light and most vegetables need a nice round eight hours.

So I signed up for a community garden at Shelby Farms.

While I was waiting for the master gardeners or the county or whoever to plow the community plots and then stake them (you have to know where to plant), I went ahead and started some little seedlings on my windowsill.

They sprouted and looked cute and sat there on the sill for a week or so (or more) and still no Shelby Farms staking (which is totally fine; it's been raining a lot). So no planting for my seedlings.

But last weekend, some of them HAD to be moved. They were growing out of their little beds. I was still going to do a small container garden anyway, so I planted them in my little containers, hauled them into the front yard and dusted off my dirty palms with a nice "Good job" to myself.

Sprouts that haven't been eaten by feral cats

And then yesterday night, I came home well past dark and glanced at my containers to see ... nothing. I peered closer (and held up my phone as a flashlight) and all my previously cute, healthy seedlings looked raggedy and sad.

I checked them out again this morning and they looked even worse than I thought in the harsh light of day. It looked like they had been chewed up and spit out.

So, round one goes to the squirrels/chipmunks/birds/feral cats/neighbors. But, as Stephen Colbert says, you're on notice.

Super-Fun

People who know me know I sometimes use the term "super-fun."

Such as, "Hey, guys, thanks for inviting me. This was super-fun."

But here's something that's really super-fun, especially in light of all the talk about superheroes these days.

The Hero Factory, where you can create your own hero.

Here is (one of) mine.


Please notice my weapon: the economy-lifting bag of consumerism. Or maybe I'm interpreting it wrong — I don't at all understand the title of my comic (it was chosen for me.) And yes, I also made myself a robot. Interpret as you will.

Ha!

I have one of the company video cameras in my possession. Be afraid, be v. afraid.

Magnetic Me?

There's a question we ask all the hotties each year -- my favorite question, in fact: If you were arrested tomorrow, what do you think you'd be arrested for?

I've heard some great answers: mistaken identity, trespassing, indecent exposure, you name it.

Until recently, I did not have an answer to this question. But now I do: It would probably be shoplifting.

Not because I'm a shoplifter; to the contrary, I'm not. But a very strange thing has started to happen.

Whenever I walk INTO Walgreens, Target, or Celery Re-Sale on Brookhaven Circle, I set off the door sensors.

And when I walk out of Walgreens, Target, and Celery, the same thing happens.

Luckily, so far, no one has really cared. At Celery, I reminded them it went off when I walked in. At Target, I walked in and out with a bunch of people. At Walgreens, where it's happened several times, I just look around, like, "Who, me?" and then carry on.

But I'm not going to lie; it has started getting a little uncomfortable.

It's been at least a month and I've worn different shoes, different outfits, I've left my purse in the car, it still goes off.

So, internet, any ideas? (Other than using Walgreens drive-thru pharmacy option?)

St. Louis Blues

Just got back from a quick jaunt to St. Louis and probably the coolest museum ever built.

I got to see the world's largest pencil, play in the skateless park, buy shoelaces at the shoelace factory, and slide down seven stories (of course, I had to climb up those seven stories, too, and my thighs are still feeling it), all at St. Louis' City Museum.


City Museum is housed in a former shoe company building and was created out of reclaimed building materials. One wall, for instance, appeared to be created out of old catering dishes. It also includes a crazy outdoor climbable scupture with two planes, a fire engine, and a castle turret, or "the most monumental, monolithic, monstrous montage of monkey bars in the world."

Their website says the museum is "an eclectic mixture of chidren's playground, funhouse, surrealistic pavilion, and architectural marvel made out of unique, found objects," and I really couldn't have described it better.

I just wish I was a little smaller and a better climber. And that it had been a little warmer.


On another note, I also saw two skateparks just driving around the city. They looked more like small hockey rinks than anything elaborate, but they were both filled with kids.

V-Day

Do me a favor:

When Valentine's Day rolls around next year, try to make it out to Rhodes' annual production of "The Vagina Monologues."

I went Friday night (I had something else to do Saturday) and the only thing I regret is not buying a "vaginista" T-shirt while I was there.

At times powerful, moving, and downright hysterical, the production is part of the V-Day College Campaign to raise awareness and funds for local organizations working to end violence against women and girls. This year's Vagina Monologues, performed by Rhodes students, faculty, and staff, included a short piece about sexual torture in the Democratic Republic of Congo.

It's not always an easy listen, but it's always a worthwhile one.

Not into Match?

Rachel Hurley is hosting a speed-dating event tonight at TJ Mulligan's.

$14. Ten to 12 five-minute dates. What could be better than that?

Nancy Drew: You found this yet?

Create your own Obamicon.

Outsourced Extra

Here's an idea: Be a Bollywood extra.


Apparently, after November's terrorist attack, they are having trouble finding Western extras.

If I wasn't so busy, I would totally try and do this. Because the first thing I do when I wake up in the morning is turn on the radio and dance my Bombay off.

Dawn of Digital

A few weeks ago, I interviewed FCC lawyer Katherine Power about the upcoming switch to digital television (the switch is a way to free up analog signal for police and safety signals, as well as more wireless devices).

As part of a 80-city FCC tour, Power came to Memphis to dispel myths about the switch. In my interview with her, she re-iterated that if you have cable or satellite, you won't need a digital converter box (altho, in the exception that proves the rule, if you have satellite and you're getting your local channels over the air, you will.)

She also advised antenna-users to go ahead and hook up a digital converter box now. Analog televisions won't go black until February 17th (when television stations begin broadcasting in only digital) but she said there was no reason to wait.

She was completely right. I hooked up my digital converter box over the holidays and it is awesome. I was actually just using my TV's built-in antenna (yep, it's pretty low tech over at Casa de Cash) and my stations would always come in grainy and fuzzy. Watchable, but just barely.

Now, all my stations — with the exception of Channel 5, which I've heard isn't yet broadcasting at full capacity — are better than watchable. They're beautiful. I mean, it's not HD or anything, but there's no fuzz. No grain. No wavy lines across Gossip Girl. Just a clear-as-day picture.

My picture is smaller than my TV screen, which I think is odd, but other than that, my switch to digital is a success.

If you need to get a rebate coupon for a converter or have questions about the switch, visit the FCC here.

Winter Wonderland, Part 2

I have to say, the U.S. Postal Service tore it up this year. That was my experience, at least.

I put my holiday cards in the mail Wednesday afternoon and by the next day(!), most of them had arrived at their Memphis destinations.

And I really wasn't expecting them to make it places outside of Memphis before Christmas, but seems like they did. And not a moment too soon, either.

Totally worth the $.40 stamps ... maybe.

Winter Wonderland

I think this is hilarious: A town in Iowa has been using garlic salt to de-ice its roads.

The salt, which is being used in a suburb of Des Moines, was donated by a local spice producer.

Also, totally unrelated, I went to the post office today and boy, howdy, was it crazy. Drivers were acting like it was demolition derby time in their attempts to get to the drop boxes, the line inside was out of control, and the lobby do-it-yourself stamp machine was being commandeered by a woman with several packages.

Which is, you know, part of what it's there for. But it's definitely Christmas crunch time, that magical time before the holiday when everyone goes insane.

For Fans of the Dude

I couldn't let this go without a link: a story about "Caucasians," bowling, and a Lebowski Fest.

And there's video!

Pass the Tissues

Everyone at my office is either sick, getting sick, or just gotten over this horrible, debilitating sickness called "the worst cold known to man."

I'm pretty sure that right now, as Google is tracking flu outbreaks with keywords such as "flu symptoms," "body aches," "fever," and "feel so bad I want to die," the internet search engine is homing in on 460 Tennessee St.

Google seems to think its keyword system can predict regional outbreaks 10 days before the Centers for Disease Control, (and it probably can, because is there anything Google can't do?) so this is just fair warning if you had any plans to visit chez Flyer.

I personally have not been infected yet but, judging by the runny noses and red eyes around me, it's only a matter of time and how much vitamin C I can consume.

I <3 the NYT

People who know me know I'm basically a 12-year-old girl.

There's the candy obsession, the talking on the phone, the music. Seriously. If anyone ever saw my Netflix list or iTunes library, I would prolly be embarrassed (even tho I'm basically admitting as such to the internets right now).

But I'm not the only one.

The NYT has a totally precious story about Fred Flare, a retailer that urges its customers to "Stay cute!"

The story's writer initially tries to resist the shopgirls' cheeriness at Fred Flare's Brooklyn store:

"They were like human text messages from Smurfland, and they were freaking me out.

I was afraid they were going to turn and direct their happiness onto me like a laser, so I tried to ignore them by pretending to study a display of handmade teddy bears ($85) as if I were at the National Archives. The bears resembled sock monkeys and had funny, simple faces. One had a red yarny lopsided mouth. I let out a small involuntary guffaw, and within minutes I felt my little blackened, coal-size heart grow and become warm and fuzzy. They were just sooo CUTE!"

(The story also includes a picture of said bears, which are really cute, although $85 seems a little high.)

I know we're not in Brooklyn, so the store's website is here. Last year, I got a necklace from them that was a tiny silver joystick and it always makes me laugh when I wear it.

And for you non-12-year-old girls out there, here are some other NYT stories you might be interested in (just so you don't think I'm totally frivolous):

— A Town Drowns in Debt as Home Values Plunge. In Mountain House, California, 90 percent of homeowners owe more on their mortgages than their homes are worth. Yikes.

— For South, a Waning Hold on Politics. Self-explanatory, I think.

— How East River Bridges Stayed Toll-Free. With New York looking at a growing budget deficit, the city is thinking about reinstating bridge tolls.

Back to Town

Got back into town late last night and something struck me: Memphis International is really creepy.

I know the airport authority is proud of their (fairly) recent renovations to the B concourse, but little ol' C looks like the perfect set for a slasher film. Even in the daytime, it's a little drab. Just brownish concrete block and tornado shelter bathrooms. Utilitarian. Institutional.

But when it's dark and there aren't many passengers around ... and all you hear are the echos of your own footfalls and the squeak of luggage as it rolls beside you down the long, empty corridor ... yikes!

I mean, install some art. Sell some more wallspace for ads. Just show some signs of life.

(For the record, I did see a few Memphis panels over the window, so that's a start. And yes, I do realize it was Sunday night, so not peak hours.)

I like the idea of John Kasarda's aerotropolis (cities have always been built around modes of transportation, after all) and I don't know how the energy crisis or the economy will ultimately affect Memphis International ... but the only thing I could categorize it as last night was a ghost town.

Apologies, all

To anyone I spoke with at the Best Of party last night, I am deeply, deeply sorry.

Also, next year's Best Of is only 12 months away, so I'd just like to take this opportunity to begin campaigning now ... you can always vote for me — Mary Cashiola — for Best Newspaper Columnist. Or Best Blog.

I'm not picky.

Oh, and for the 3 people who voted for me this year, thank you. I appreciate it.

We Run on Gasoline

Or, here is my stupid gas story from this weekend.

Last Friday morning, I get a call from my dad right after I get into work. One of his good friends does something with propane (maybe a supplier? I'm unclear) and that good friend has a fleet of trucks (he must be a supplier) and he's already being quoted gas at some ungodly price.

So my father advises me to get gas before Ike hits. I tell the aforementioned dad that I'm on the scooter, but I've already heard similar stories on the radio, so when I get home, I'll fill up the car.

I'm like a boy scout: I like to be prepared.

Friday evening, I get home and head to the gas station a block from my house. It's still got a great price on the sign and is surprisingly empty. And then I realize that's because all its gas is gone.

The station across the street is already a teeming, sprawling madhouse, so I head down the street aways to another station. The price seems reasonable and though there's an accident right in front of this gas station, it doesn't seem too terribly busy.

So I pull in and wait. It's going slow because an inordinate amount of people are having to prepay inside and I almost leave. Then I see other people swiping their credit cards outside like nothing's wrong. I stay.

Finally I get up to a pump and realize that this particular one has a broken screen. I'm feeling invested at this point (and it's not like it's going to be better anywhere else) so I go inside and prepay $30 worth and hope that amount will get me enough gas but not too much (I had more than a quarter of a tank at the time).

I get back to the pump and put the 89 nozzle in my gas tank. Nothing happens.

I go for the 91 nozzle. Still nothing (except I begin to curse like a sailor).

I try the 93, which is over $4 a gallon. But then again, I've already pre-paid so what am I going to do about it? There's a tense moment when I think that is gone, too, but it slowly lurches to life and I get a few precious gallons.

Not that I'm happy about it.

The AP is reporting that gasoline prices went up to $5 a gallon in some places because of the fear of gas supply shortages and a disruption in fuel production.

It's a self-fulfilling prophecy: People hear there is going to be a run on gas, so there's a run on gas. And we're so dependent on it; of course a legitimate fear about supply disruption is going to cause mass panic.

I'm just glad I wasn't one of those people filling up extra gas cans. (Of course, if Ike had done more damage, maybe I would be upset that I wasn't one of those people.)

Today's my carpool day, but tomorrow I'm back to the scooter.