In addition to my 4″ black patent leather spiked heels and my shorty short patterned leather jacket, one of my favorite things to come out of the eighties was the movie When Harry Met Sally. I loved Billy Crystal as Harry Burns and Meg Ryan as Sally Albright and how she ordered everything on the side and how he read the last page of a book first because he needed to know how it ended just in case he suddenly dropped dead.
I’m a little like Harry in that I read magazines back to front and think I am going to drop dead every day of my life, especially while riding shotgun with Nate on the expressway. And I’m a lot like Sally in that I take ten minutes to order a meal while my family withers away from malnutrition. Oh, and just like Sally, I place letters in a mailbox one at a time, carefully checking to ensure each one has dropped successfully before inserting another. It took me six hours to mail out my wedding invitations.
And I used to wear big glasses in the eighties, just like Sally!
Oooh, and I can make dogs howl in protest and cats willingly sacrifice all nine of their lives when I sing, just like Sally!
And I faked an orgasm in the middle of a crowded restaurant just to prove a point, just like Sally!
That may have been indigestion. Or sudden onset perimenopause.
But speaking of orgasms, who doesn’t like a Big “O” every once in a while?
Do you remember when I blogged here about my intention to acquire a multitude of them with my husband while celebrating our tenth wedding anniversary in San Francisco this past June?
And that I fully intended to get one by visiting Harry Mason’s shop at Pier 39 and buying myself another pair of Earspirals?
And that my entire body came home very relaxed and happy from San Fran, especially my ears, which yelled MISSION ACCOMPLISHED at the top of their lungs on my blog?
I won’t bore you all over again with how much I love Harry Mason and his Earspirals because BEEN THERE, DONE THAT, LET’S MOVE ON, right?
Except … who am I kidding?
I big-red-puffy-heart Harry Mason and his Earspirals.
Just in case you weren’t paying attention the last twenty-two times.
Sigh. Just soak in all that prettiness.
Before Harry Mason was a jewelry designer, he was a seventies long haired hippie slalom skateboarder who moonlighted as a disco dance instructor.
Isn’t that just the coolest thing ever? I bow to your überness, Harry.
You know, I was a disco-holic when I was young. Still am. In fact, I’m typing this to the beat of Stayin’ Alive. At this rate, I might finish this post next week. Maybe if I didn’t feel compelled to channel Tony Manero and strike a pose, hand on hip, other pointed to the sky, every five minutes, I’d finish this post sooner. And if I just stop yelling WHETHER YOU’RE A BROTHER OR WHETHER YOU’RE A MOTHER, YOU’RE STAYIN’ ALIVE, STAYIN’ ALIVE. That might help too.
If we ever go to a Halloween costume party, I’m totally making Nate borrow Harry’s bell bottoms and go as Denny Terrio from Dance Fever. And I’ll squeeze myself into a sparkly gold lamé leotard and go as one of the Solid Gold dancers.
Or, at least my ankle will. The rest of my body will just have to tag along.
This one is similar to the Earspiral above, but with a little extra bling.
I’d like to bling myself out every once in a while, but I can’t find my BeDazzler.
Who absconded with my BeDazzler?
Harry, did you take my BeDazzler?
Although I’d hazard a guess that you have more sophisticated tools in your arsenal, right? That’s OK. You can tell me. I won’t tell anyone. I’m great at keeping secrets! Nate still doesn’t know about the tattoo I got six months ago!
Good thing he doesn’t read this blog.
Love and adore these.
My ears are getting all verklempt.
Harry’s even got instructions for putting on Earspirals, just in case any of you are running away screaming. It’s OK! Come back! Don’t be scared!
Did you know that I just missed meeting Harry when we visited his shop in June? I hung around his store waiting for him, totally prepared to stalk him but after an hour, when my credit card passed out from exhaustion and my family passed out from starvation, we had to leave.
We were destined to be ships that passed in the night. Except it was daylight. And I’m not a ship, even though it’s widely rumored that I can burp louder than a foghorn.
I’m thinking that’s a compliment?
This entire incident was my inspiration for penning the manuscript When Harry Almost Met Andy and sending it off to Billy Crystal for his review and consideration.
That was over a month ago. I can only assume he’s waiting to hear back from Angelina Jolie about playing my part.
Did you know Harry patented the Earspiral? Back in the eighties, when he and his wife were local street artists in San Francisco, their loyal customers would complain of how easy it was to lose an earring. Harry spent long hours dreaming about earrings that didn’t stop, drop and roll and in the middle of the night, he came up with the spiral idea. He was so excited that he immediately shook his wife and said WAKE UP! LOOK AT THIS!
And like all good wives who get woken up in the dead of night by husbands who shout WAKE UP! LOOK AT THIS, she mumbled ARE YOU CRAZY? CAN’T YOU SEE THIS HEADACHE ON MY FACE? Then she rolled over and lapsed back into a coma.
And then the next morning, she got all excited about Harry’s idea and one year later, the Earspiral was official.
Do you know the last time Nate woke me up in the middle of the night by shouting WAKE UP! LOOK AT THIS!
Neither does he. He’s still suffering from memory loss from the concussion he sustained.
Are these not amazing? I’m all a twitter.
Once these things are in your ears, they aren’t stopping, dropping or rolling anywhere. No more walking around wearing one earring in one ear and a gaping hole in the other and trying to pass it off as eclectic.
Nobody falls for it.
Sigh. This one is so worth a Big O, don’t you think?
Speaking of Harry’s wife, her name is Kathryn. He met her in the early eighties at a dance party where they talked and did the hustle and hung out and he promised to call her.
And then his Y chromosome kicked into high gear and guess what? He didn’t call.
Tsk, tsk, tsk, Harry. If you weren’t so damn talented, I’d be hard pressed not to whomp you upside the head.
On second thought … as Sally once said, You are a human affront to all women and I am a woman.
(pssssst Harry … I’m sorry. You know I adore you, right?)
Sigh. Big Ooooooooooooooooooo.
One month after that party, Kathryn was rollerskating on the streets of San Francisco and serendipity smiled down upon her and next thing she knew, she slammed right into a surprised Harry. Rather than beat him senseless as I might have done, she simply said you promised you would call.
And they’ve been together ever since.
You guys are adorable, did you know that?
CAN YOU GUYS HEAR ME OVER THAT SHIRT?
Harry and Kathryn have been together for over twenty years and to this day, every time he mentions her, he refers to her as either “‘love of my life” or “my beautiful wife.”
Can you stand the hopeless romanticism?
I wonder if I duct taped Nate to Harry and made Harry sneeze, would Nate catch it? Would it spread like poison ivy? Sink in through osmosis maybe?
Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooh. Love this one.
Guess what Harry and Kathryn did on their first date?
They went rollerskating. Down the hills of San Francisco. Backwards.
Hello? Have you met the hills of San Francisco? Allow me to introduce you:
So, basically Harry and Kathryn thought it was a good idea to stick wheels on their feet and then let gravity have its way with them down San Francisco’s version of Mt. Everest at a speed of Mach 10.
The romantic side of me thinks they were just a couple of whacky kids, blinded by love. The logical part of me thinks they were stoned out of their minds.
Then again, I’m the one who went rollerblading with my honey down our own east coast interpretation of Mt. Kilimanjaro and spent the rest of the night having him pick an entire highway out of my ass so who am I to judge?
So, I’ll just shut up.
For at least a minute.
There. Wasn’t that refreshing?
WARNING: BIG O AHEAD:
This is the pair I bought for myself back in June!
I simply can’t help myself!
Harry’s Earspirals get me all twitterpated.
I love it when I can use that word correctly in a sentence. I need to use those sentences more often.
This isn’t an Earspiral but who cares? It just screams CLASSY, don’t you think?
I can hear it all the way over here, 3,000 miles away.
Oh my goodness.
This is called an Ear Fancy.
Because it’s fancy and you wear it on your ear.
Don’t you love it when the stars and planets align and everything makes sense?
This one is gorgeous, isn’t it? I almost can’t stand it.
My ears are quivering with excitement.
My ears are literally convulsing. I just want to have my way with them.
The Ear Fancys, not my ears because ewwww … that would just be weird.
Have you ever seen anything so delicious that wasn’t smothered under Nutella?
<THUD> <———- me and my ears, passing out from sheer ecstasy.
I need a moment.
Before I forget, see Harry’s ad at the top of my side bar? Go over there —————————–>
Now scroll up and look for the ad that looks like this:
If you click on that ad, you’ll get a code for $5 off your purchase.
Go ahead and do a happy dance! I’ll wait.
OK … are we ready for the giveaway?
Up for grabs:
A $100 shopping spree at Harry Mason Designer Jewelry, at his online shop or at any of his stores!
Have yourself one whopper of a Big O on us!
Earspirals, Ear Fancys, Ear Cuffs, Ear Wraps … whatever your little nekkid ears have a hankering for.
By the way, how many of you live with men who lose cerebral function at warp speed when faced with a written list? You use up your last gallon of milk and toss away the carton without remembering to take a picture of it and hot glue it to his eyelids before sending him to the store for some more. So now you realize you have no choice but to write him a note in big block letters “one gallon of fat free milk in the white container that has a 2 x 3 inch rectangular label with blue/red stars all over it, located in Aisle 10B, top shelf on the left.”
And he comes home from the store with a five pound bag of kitty litter and no milk.
And you don’t even own a cat.
No problem! Harry’s got a wishlist option on his site, perfect for the XY chromosome in your life who requires visual aids. Choose what you want, stick it on your wishlist and then staple the computer to your significant other’s face and let him feel empowered. Tada! No more kitty litter.
OK … the nitty gritty:
- To enter, leave a comment in this post, telling me what you’d love to see on your body. Long luscious hair? Firm boobs? All the shoes from Sex and the City? If you ask me, I don’t even have to think about it! Hands down, Anderson Cooper.
- Nate loves me, regardless of my stalking tendencies.
- Anyone 18 or older can enter. You youngsters in your twenties, can I live vicariously through you?
- If you win and you’re anything like me and lack self-control, you’ll probably find well over $100 worth in your cart. No worries! Apply the $100 to your total and just pay the difference. Remember, happy ears make for a happy head.
- Don’t forget to click Harry’s ad at the top of my sidebar to get your coupon code for $5 off!
- The winner will have thirty days from notification to make his/her ears downright giddy.
- No entries after 5:00 pm eastern time on Sunday, August 23, because by that point, nothing on my body will be giddy, least of all my ears.
- I will randomly use Random.org to randomly choose a random winner. Randomly.
- Please don’t enter more than once! Your comment will show up. Duplicate entries make my head spin and then I get dizzy and throw up. Oh, and speaking of duplicates … My blog theme Thesis is pitching a hissy by refusing to continue sequential numbering of comments beyond #500. Instead, it numbers each group of up to 500 comments as #1-500. Thesis thinks this is funny. I assure you, it is not. But I’m aware of this glitch and have a plan in place to deal with it so go ahead and post your comment and don’t worry about your comment number. And if you’re looking for Thesis, it will be standing in a corner with its nose to the wall, thinking long and hard about its actions and how they affect others.
- I’ll announce the winner on Monday!
Now, do me a favor, please? Go rent When Harry Met Sally. You won’t be disappointed.
I leave you with the immortal words of Harry Burns:
You know, I have a theory that hieroglyphics are just an ancient comic strip about a character named Sphinxy.