Broadway Baby
I've become totally obsessed with musical theater lately. Yes, I've always been a very big fan, but recently it's been creeping into everything. I just borrowed Carousel and Showboat from the library, because I've never seen them. How can I say I'm a Rodgers and Hammerstein fan if I've never seen Carousel? Just disgusting.
Last Friday I spent nearly six hours in a basement piano bar, screeching along with the rest of the gang. It was just criminal how many songs I was unfamiliar with. I should know Gypsy. I should know Funny Girl. A song or two here, or just the chorus, is not going to cut it. Don't ask me why I care, I haven't dug that deeply yet. I'm more than a little afraid of what I might find when I go there. For the moment I'll just accept it as a creepy new hobby.
Monday, September 30, 2002
Sunshine Day
Have you ever had one of those weeks where it seems like your whole world is crumbling around you and you just can't seem to even sweep up any of the detritus? Sure, everyone has. The best part of a week like that is the next week. This morning I actually got up at 6:30 am. Okay, I bargained with my reasonable side for one snooze, but I never even fell back to sleep. I was so proud of myself. I turned on the radio to "Good Day Sunshine" by The Beatles, one of my favorite songs from my favorite Fab Four album. I ate breakfast. I know, it's scary. I left the house early, which was good, because, as has happened for the last six work days, the bus arrived at the corner just before I could reach it. I'm talking seconds. The options are to wait for the next bus, or start walking and helplessly watch the next bus pass you and get to the station just before the W train arrives. I waited. But this time, I wasn't even mad. How could I be? It's so incredibly ridiculous that six weekdays in a row, no matter what time I leave the house, the bus arrives at the corner with no chance for me to catch it. Normally, I'm irritated and say bad words, but today I wasn't late, so I didn't get mad. Then, when I did get on the bus, I realized I had not refilled my Metrocard, so I had to get change from one of the ladies on the bus. Still wasn't a bit put out. Because I had to get a new Metrocard at the station, I missed the W and had to wait another 10 minutes. But I had happy mix tape action in the Walkman, so, even when there were absolutely no seats on the train (until I scored one at Pacific, yay!) I was a happy camper. When I arrived at work, I was still early. I beat all the 9:30 people in. I'm sure that without the background of my daily self-flagellation for the past 6 years over my lateness to work, this doesn't really sound like much, but trust me. Any day I show up to work less than an hour late is a good day for me.
Even with the heartbreak of PageMaker and three hours of scanning photos today, my spirits remained high. Now, my brochure is ready to print, the paper has been ordered, everything is being handled, and I can breathe. Did I mention I even ironed my clothes last night? I love these brief spurts of adulthood I get now and then. They almost make up for the hungover weekends I spend on the couch, eating hot wings and watching V.I.P.
Have you ever had one of those weeks where it seems like your whole world is crumbling around you and you just can't seem to even sweep up any of the detritus? Sure, everyone has. The best part of a week like that is the next week. This morning I actually got up at 6:30 am. Okay, I bargained with my reasonable side for one snooze, but I never even fell back to sleep. I was so proud of myself. I turned on the radio to "Good Day Sunshine" by The Beatles, one of my favorite songs from my favorite Fab Four album. I ate breakfast. I know, it's scary. I left the house early, which was good, because, as has happened for the last six work days, the bus arrived at the corner just before I could reach it. I'm talking seconds. The options are to wait for the next bus, or start walking and helplessly watch the next bus pass you and get to the station just before the W train arrives. I waited. But this time, I wasn't even mad. How could I be? It's so incredibly ridiculous that six weekdays in a row, no matter what time I leave the house, the bus arrives at the corner with no chance for me to catch it. Normally, I'm irritated and say bad words, but today I wasn't late, so I didn't get mad. Then, when I did get on the bus, I realized I had not refilled my Metrocard, so I had to get change from one of the ladies on the bus. Still wasn't a bit put out. Because I had to get a new Metrocard at the station, I missed the W and had to wait another 10 minutes. But I had happy mix tape action in the Walkman, so, even when there were absolutely no seats on the train (until I scored one at Pacific, yay!) I was a happy camper. When I arrived at work, I was still early. I beat all the 9:30 people in. I'm sure that without the background of my daily self-flagellation for the past 6 years over my lateness to work, this doesn't really sound like much, but trust me. Any day I show up to work less than an hour late is a good day for me.
Even with the heartbreak of PageMaker and three hours of scanning photos today, my spirits remained high. Now, my brochure is ready to print, the paper has been ordered, everything is being handled, and I can breathe. Did I mention I even ironed my clothes last night? I love these brief spurts of adulthood I get now and then. They almost make up for the hungover weekends I spend on the couch, eating hot wings and watching V.I.P.
Thursday, September 26, 2002
Plus...
I forgot to mention that my favorite part of MDs was the patient who refused the heart transplant in favor of the certainty of living another day. Thank you! Organ transplants are not a miracle cure! Hey, even if it weren't for the risk of death during surgery, death from infection, death from tissue rejection, and all that crazy scarring, the very idea of having someone else's internal organ patched into my body creeeeeeeeps me out. Ew. I'll take my chances with death, please. Seriously. And I'm not giving up any of my organs to go in someone else, either. It's unnatural. Sorry family. Besides, you wouldn't want them anyway, with all the abuse I put them through.
I forgot to mention that my favorite part of MDs was the patient who refused the heart transplant in favor of the certainty of living another day. Thank you! Organ transplants are not a miracle cure! Hey, even if it weren't for the risk of death during surgery, death from infection, death from tissue rejection, and all that crazy scarring, the very idea of having someone else's internal organ patched into my body creeeeeeeeps me out. Ew. I'll take my chances with death, please. Seriously. And I'm not giving up any of my organs to go in someone else, either. It's unnatural. Sorry family. Besides, you wouldn't want them anyway, with all the abuse I put them through.
Doctor, My Eyes... My Eyes! My Eyes! Aaaaaaaargh!
Granted, while I was watching the premiere of MDs last night I was about 2 sheets to the wind, but I have to say, ease up on the angst, guys! As I predicted, this show is very M*A*S*H-like, without the laughtrack. Where it's supposed to be funny it's funny. But where it's supposed to be dramatic, it's so melodramatic that it's funny. Bad fake roof set. Such an obvious green screen. Interesting casting decisions. I really hope they back off on the tortured-soul scenery chewing or I won't be able to take it. It'll have to become a drinking game show. Every time the rogue surgeon dodges the mean administrative lady in the hallway, drink. Every time the rogue surgeon is reminded what a horrible father he is, drink. Every time the cute Scottish doctor brings up his time in Bosnia, drink. Every time the new director runs away from blood, drink. Every time the idealistic new intern gazes admiringly at her two "gonzo" mentors, drink. Hmm, maybe we should play this with lemonade so no one gets alcohol poisoning.
Granted, while I was watching the premiere of MDs last night I was about 2 sheets to the wind, but I have to say, ease up on the angst, guys! As I predicted, this show is very M*A*S*H-like, without the laughtrack. Where it's supposed to be funny it's funny. But where it's supposed to be dramatic, it's so melodramatic that it's funny. Bad fake roof set. Such an obvious green screen. Interesting casting decisions. I really hope they back off on the tortured-soul scenery chewing or I won't be able to take it. It'll have to become a drinking game show. Every time the rogue surgeon dodges the mean administrative lady in the hallway, drink. Every time the rogue surgeon is reminded what a horrible father he is, drink. Every time the cute Scottish doctor brings up his time in Bosnia, drink. Every time the new director runs away from blood, drink. Every time the idealistic new intern gazes admiringly at her two "gonzo" mentors, drink. Hmm, maybe we should play this with lemonade so no one gets alcohol poisoning.
Wednesday, September 25, 2002
Stop Reading Now
If reading my blog posts is as aggravating as reading Buffy message board posts, just stop now. I've finally realized why I have finger smudges all over my monitor. I grab it and try to shake it when some goober annoys me. Also, I poke it and say "what are you, stupid?" It really is worse than watching Jeopardy! No more reading message boards with more than three people posting.
Birthday Birthday Birthday!
That's right, just eight shopping days until my birthday. I know I haven't been as vocal about it as in year's past, but it kind of sneaked up on me. The past six months have kind of been a blur. I haven't even decided what my Halloween costume is going to be yet! Anyway, birthday. I'm going to be 29 on October 3. That's me, the charming and indecisive Libra. If you want to buy me presents (which you should never feel obligated to do), I set up a wish list at Amazon. I'm hoping for well-administered birthday spankings, but if that fails I'll just go see Secretary instead!
If reading my blog posts is as aggravating as reading Buffy message board posts, just stop now. I've finally realized why I have finger smudges all over my monitor. I grab it and try to shake it when some goober annoys me. Also, I poke it and say "what are you, stupid?" It really is worse than watching Jeopardy! No more reading message boards with more than three people posting.
Birthday Birthday Birthday!
That's right, just eight shopping days until my birthday. I know I haven't been as vocal about it as in year's past, but it kind of sneaked up on me. The past six months have kind of been a blur. I haven't even decided what my Halloween costume is going to be yet! Anyway, birthday. I'm going to be 29 on October 3. That's me, the charming and indecisive Libra. If you want to buy me presents (which you should never feel obligated to do), I set up a wish list at Amazon. I'm hoping for well-administered birthday spankings, but if that fails I'll just go see Secretary instead!
The Best Night on TV
Sure, it only lasts from 8-10 pm, but I haven't seen a pairing like this since Buffy and Angel were on the same network. Of course, I have to change channels for this pairing, but nothing beats a fantastic episode of Buffy, the Vampire Slayer followed by an exciting episode of Smallville. Allow me to go on at length.
Sure, I was prepared for a suck-tastic season premiere from our friends at Mutant Enemy (Grr, Argh!), so maybe that's why I was so ecstatic by 8:58 pm. However, I think actual good writing may be the reason. It's almost as if they went out and rehired the original writers. They sure rehired some original cast members. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Buffy training Dawn how to defend herself? Good. Not making it out as if Buffy is training her to be a real Slayer? Better. Bookending the concept of power was a very nice touch. Hey, I like my BtVS heavy-handed, m'kay?
Question: who was the chick getting the stuffing knifed out of her in Istanbul and when will we find out more?
Xander making with the suit and the car -- glad to see he's learning how to be a grown up. Probably why he couldn't marry Anya; he wasn't at a good place yet. However, it's all or nothing for Anya (who is obviously dressing in the dark, yeegh). She still doesn't have the heart for vengeance. D'Hoffryn should just take back her powers, and where the hell is her power source? If Hallie has one, she should, too. Oops, sorry, getting too esoteric for BtVS virgins.
The new principal at the new Sunnydale High: way to make us think he could be evil, then (almost certainly) definitively prove to us that he's not. The new Sunnydale High, period: I'm so glad they're bringing back the Hellmouth! Did anyone even mention the Hellmouth in Season 6? The source of all the evil in Sunnydale, drawing demons and baddies of every stripe the world over to its naughty cream filling. And now it's waking up again. More on that in a bit.
The ghosts were scary!
Finally, someone has figured out what the hell to do with Buffy now that she's not in school anymore. Fast food? How stupid. I realize it was supposed to be the ultimate example of failure, but it was just weird. Can I note how nice it is to see some earth tones and less red everywhere? Thank you for answering my production-value-wishes, Good Fairy! Anyway, a counselor for the school is the perfect device to keep Buffy near Sunnydale high without being suspicious, but it's also a good thing for Buffy to do as a person, helping students find their way through the high school from hell. She can "learn and grow." (Sorry, Faith reference. Mmm, Faith.) New teenagers, also a good sign. Dawn needs some friends, already. If she must be on the show, give her friends. Now, I know some people may be afraid this foreshadows a Dawn, The Vampire Slayer spin-off with all her wacky sidekicks, but let's just not think about that possibility. Let's live in Season 7 and only Season 7, okay?
Ah, now we come to Spike. Nice hair. No self-respecting, soul-having, tortured and crazy vampire would take the time to slick his hair back or buy peroxide. It's refreshing that Spike hasn't either. I liked the bit where he alluded to trying to cut out his soul (the cuts were over his heart; is that where the Jossverse soul is?). Oh, and is he nuts. Very well done, James Marsters. Wondered who the third on in "the three of us" was. When I saw Warren, I was deeply confused. Was Warren representing a physical manifestation of Spike's new soul? It didn't make sense, Warren being such an assbag and all. Then when he morphed into Glory, I was afraid. Afraid that Glory was truly back. I mean, she did tend to morph. But then I remembered that Warren was all skinless, so it couldn't be Glory. When Glory morphed into Adam, I got it. I started doing the happy Buffy dance of joy, the one that used to drive Jean-Paul crazy. Last time I remember bouncing up and down that much during an episode was the Season 2 finale, when Buffy and Angel were swordfighting. I may have fuzzy memory; I'm sure other episodes in the future got me jumpy. Anyway. Each incarnation actually talked like the villain they represented (if you don't get this, the being was changing into each Big Bad from the previous years, chronologically). Glory said she was "fabulous," Adam called Spike "Number 17" (though I think "Hostile 17" would have been more accurate). I couldn't believe that they would actually get everyone. Could they? Did the actors love the show that much that they would take time out for a cameo in all that makeup (in some cases)? Yes! Adam became the Mayor, and I was creeped out anew. The Mayor became Drusilla, red French tips and all. At this point I was saying "Ohmygodohmygodohmygod" over and over, waiting, hoping to see Mark Metcalf in all his nasty Master-ness. And, Yay! But the last... the last... where the Master becomes Buffy? I lost it. Evil, evil, evil! Hellmouth Evil. The Original Big Bad. EVIL is sharing a crazy solitary cell with a re-souled Spike. No brooding goody-two-shoes champion will come out of this one. The possibilities, the promise...
Oh yeah, and Willow's getting in touch with the real concept of Wicca in England with Giles. But Giles isn't in the opening credits. Boo! Oh well, I got to see him ride a horse in a duster, rowrr.
So, after I shrieked some incomprehensibles into my friend's phone, I settled in for the second part of the Smallville Season 1 cliffhanger. If you haven't seen this show, you should check it out. You can catch reruns on the WB on Sundays. For one, Tom Welling, Michael Rosenbaum, and yes, John Schneider are very cute. Regardless. Clark flew! He wasn't sure he did it or how, but he did, and he saved Lana from being toast. Lex saved his father from dying, but made a bad decision and now Lionel is blind. Of course, he has to tell Lex that he'd be better off dead, when a tortured Lex thinks he'd be better off if Lionel were dead as well, though he doesn't want to be that person. Lex saves Jonathan's life and Clark's secret (unknowingly), by popping the bad reporter (who totally deserved it -- an archetype of slime). Chloe pulled the all-time dumbest move a girl can pull. She tested Clark's affection for her by suggesting they just be friends. Instead of begging her to reconsider, like she really wanted, he said okay, the way any normal boy would. Stupid, stupid Chloe. We've all seen Superman 3, we know Clark and Lana don't get together.
Well, it was a very good episode, tying up all the loose ends from the previous one. There was some great acting, amazing special effects, great sets (the wreckage from the tornado was well-done) and a few revelations. The character of Lex is ever-evolving. The big question is how and when does he become evil? When do Clark and Lex go from being best friends to arch nemeses? In a way, the show is more about Lex than about Clark. Clark's charcter isn't that round. He's good now, he's good later. He just gets a special suit and glasses later. I'm pleased with Smallville.
Sing! Sing! Sing!
The only problem with this sublime Tuesday night is that Pieces has started a karaoke contest. Now, I really only have to miss one Tuesday to be in it, but I think it woud be a good idea to see the competition before the semifinals, you know? I would tape the shows, but my VCR doesn't tape right. What shall I do? This is a season not to be missed, but I have the chance to win $1000. Some of my friends think I could win, but I don't know. I know there are other singers out there who are better than I am, but I think I've got the "karaoke" thing down pretty well. Bob is judging the Tuesday preliminaries, and he told me he's judging on appearance and stage presence as well as just singing. Then there's the choice: do I sign up now or wait for December? If I sign up now, I have a higher risk of losing out in the semifinals. But if it gets popular, I have a risk of not getting into the semifinals if I wait. Plus, I can kill with a number of different songs. I thought I'd get into a Tuesday with "Boy From New York City." It's sweet, easy to sing, and I can work it. Add a cute dress and I'm sure I could get in the top three of 10. I want to save the show-stoppers for the popular ballot contests. I really want to do this, but as with all competition, I'm afraid I'll mess up and look stupid. So, I'll be happy if I manage a $10 bar tab. I'll post updates here.
Sure, it only lasts from 8-10 pm, but I haven't seen a pairing like this since Buffy and Angel were on the same network. Of course, I have to change channels for this pairing, but nothing beats a fantastic episode of Buffy, the Vampire Slayer followed by an exciting episode of Smallville. Allow me to go on at length.
Sure, I was prepared for a suck-tastic season premiere from our friends at Mutant Enemy (Grr, Argh!), so maybe that's why I was so ecstatic by 8:58 pm. However, I think actual good writing may be the reason. It's almost as if they went out and rehired the original writers. They sure rehired some original cast members. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Buffy training Dawn how to defend herself? Good. Not making it out as if Buffy is training her to be a real Slayer? Better. Bookending the concept of power was a very nice touch. Hey, I like my BtVS heavy-handed, m'kay?
Question: who was the chick getting the stuffing knifed out of her in Istanbul and when will we find out more?
Xander making with the suit and the car -- glad to see he's learning how to be a grown up. Probably why he couldn't marry Anya; he wasn't at a good place yet. However, it's all or nothing for Anya (who is obviously dressing in the dark, yeegh). She still doesn't have the heart for vengeance. D'Hoffryn should just take back her powers, and where the hell is her power source? If Hallie has one, she should, too. Oops, sorry, getting too esoteric for BtVS virgins.
The new principal at the new Sunnydale High: way to make us think he could be evil, then (almost certainly) definitively prove to us that he's not. The new Sunnydale High, period: I'm so glad they're bringing back the Hellmouth! Did anyone even mention the Hellmouth in Season 6? The source of all the evil in Sunnydale, drawing demons and baddies of every stripe the world over to its naughty cream filling. And now it's waking up again. More on that in a bit.
The ghosts were scary!
Finally, someone has figured out what the hell to do with Buffy now that she's not in school anymore. Fast food? How stupid. I realize it was supposed to be the ultimate example of failure, but it was just weird. Can I note how nice it is to see some earth tones and less red everywhere? Thank you for answering my production-value-wishes, Good Fairy! Anyway, a counselor for the school is the perfect device to keep Buffy near Sunnydale high without being suspicious, but it's also a good thing for Buffy to do as a person, helping students find their way through the high school from hell. She can "learn and grow." (Sorry, Faith reference. Mmm, Faith.) New teenagers, also a good sign. Dawn needs some friends, already. If she must be on the show, give her friends. Now, I know some people may be afraid this foreshadows a Dawn, The Vampire Slayer spin-off with all her wacky sidekicks, but let's just not think about that possibility. Let's live in Season 7 and only Season 7, okay?
Ah, now we come to Spike. Nice hair. No self-respecting, soul-having, tortured and crazy vampire would take the time to slick his hair back or buy peroxide. It's refreshing that Spike hasn't either. I liked the bit where he alluded to trying to cut out his soul (the cuts were over his heart; is that where the Jossverse soul is?). Oh, and is he nuts. Very well done, James Marsters. Wondered who the third on in "the three of us" was. When I saw Warren, I was deeply confused. Was Warren representing a physical manifestation of Spike's new soul? It didn't make sense, Warren being such an assbag and all. Then when he morphed into Glory, I was afraid. Afraid that Glory was truly back. I mean, she did tend to morph. But then I remembered that Warren was all skinless, so it couldn't be Glory. When Glory morphed into Adam, I got it. I started doing the happy Buffy dance of joy, the one that used to drive Jean-Paul crazy. Last time I remember bouncing up and down that much during an episode was the Season 2 finale, when Buffy and Angel were swordfighting. I may have fuzzy memory; I'm sure other episodes in the future got me jumpy. Anyway. Each incarnation actually talked like the villain they represented (if you don't get this, the being was changing into each Big Bad from the previous years, chronologically). Glory said she was "fabulous," Adam called Spike "Number 17" (though I think "Hostile 17" would have been more accurate). I couldn't believe that they would actually get everyone. Could they? Did the actors love the show that much that they would take time out for a cameo in all that makeup (in some cases)? Yes! Adam became the Mayor, and I was creeped out anew. The Mayor became Drusilla, red French tips and all. At this point I was saying "Ohmygodohmygodohmygod" over and over, waiting, hoping to see Mark Metcalf in all his nasty Master-ness. And, Yay! But the last... the last... where the Master becomes Buffy? I lost it. Evil, evil, evil! Hellmouth Evil. The Original Big Bad. EVIL is sharing a crazy solitary cell with a re-souled Spike. No brooding goody-two-shoes champion will come out of this one. The possibilities, the promise...
Oh yeah, and Willow's getting in touch with the real concept of Wicca in England with Giles. But Giles isn't in the opening credits. Boo! Oh well, I got to see him ride a horse in a duster, rowrr.
So, after I shrieked some incomprehensibles into my friend's phone, I settled in for the second part of the Smallville Season 1 cliffhanger. If you haven't seen this show, you should check it out. You can catch reruns on the WB on Sundays. For one, Tom Welling, Michael Rosenbaum, and yes, John Schneider are very cute. Regardless. Clark flew! He wasn't sure he did it or how, but he did, and he saved Lana from being toast. Lex saved his father from dying, but made a bad decision and now Lionel is blind. Of course, he has to tell Lex that he'd be better off dead, when a tortured Lex thinks he'd be better off if Lionel were dead as well, though he doesn't want to be that person. Lex saves Jonathan's life and Clark's secret (unknowingly), by popping the bad reporter (who totally deserved it -- an archetype of slime). Chloe pulled the all-time dumbest move a girl can pull. She tested Clark's affection for her by suggesting they just be friends. Instead of begging her to reconsider, like she really wanted, he said okay, the way any normal boy would. Stupid, stupid Chloe. We've all seen Superman 3, we know Clark and Lana don't get together.
Well, it was a very good episode, tying up all the loose ends from the previous one. There was some great acting, amazing special effects, great sets (the wreckage from the tornado was well-done) and a few revelations. The character of Lex is ever-evolving. The big question is how and when does he become evil? When do Clark and Lex go from being best friends to arch nemeses? In a way, the show is more about Lex than about Clark. Clark's charcter isn't that round. He's good now, he's good later. He just gets a special suit and glasses later. I'm pleased with Smallville.
Sing! Sing! Sing!
The only problem with this sublime Tuesday night is that Pieces has started a karaoke contest. Now, I really only have to miss one Tuesday to be in it, but I think it woud be a good idea to see the competition before the semifinals, you know? I would tape the shows, but my VCR doesn't tape right. What shall I do? This is a season not to be missed, but I have the chance to win $1000. Some of my friends think I could win, but I don't know. I know there are other singers out there who are better than I am, but I think I've got the "karaoke" thing down pretty well. Bob is judging the Tuesday preliminaries, and he told me he's judging on appearance and stage presence as well as just singing. Then there's the choice: do I sign up now or wait for December? If I sign up now, I have a higher risk of losing out in the semifinals. But if it gets popular, I have a risk of not getting into the semifinals if I wait. Plus, I can kill with a number of different songs. I thought I'd get into a Tuesday with "Boy From New York City." It's sweet, easy to sing, and I can work it. Add a cute dress and I'm sure I could get in the top three of 10. I want to save the show-stoppers for the popular ballot contests. I really want to do this, but as with all competition, I'm afraid I'll mess up and look stupid. So, I'll be happy if I manage a $10 bar tab. I'll post updates here.
Quote of the Day
"It's a television show that should be taken with a grain of salt," he said. "But at the same time, Italian-Americans should be cognizant that it adds to the stereotypes in this country." -- Anthony Marci, vice president of the North Jersey chapter of Fiery, a group of students and young adults that celebrates Italian culture, on the Italian-American Miss New Jersey being asked a question about The Sopranos. Dude, pick a side, already. (And speaking of hypersensitivity, I think people have been making the altar boy joke for many years now, and Fordham needs to relax. If you can't trash talk at sporting events, where can you?)
"It's a television show that should be taken with a grain of salt," he said. "But at the same time, Italian-Americans should be cognizant that it adds to the stereotypes in this country." -- Anthony Marci, vice president of the North Jersey chapter of Fiery, a group of students and young adults that celebrates Italian culture, on the Italian-American Miss New Jersey being asked a question about The Sopranos. Dude, pick a side, already. (And speaking of hypersensitivity, I think people have been making the altar boy joke for many years now, and Fordham needs to relax. If you can't trash talk at sporting events, where can you?)
Tuesday, September 24, 2002
CSI: The Elmore Leonard Years
I tried so hard to watch CSI: Miami last night. I tried not to read all about breast cancer in my new Self magazine and focus instead on David Caruso & Co. recreating one of my favorite shows in backwoods-yet-exotic Southern Florida. But about 20 minutes in, I had to shut off the TV. It just shouldn't be that hard to watch television. I didn't care a fig for any of the characters. The ME's quirk of talking directly to the corpses was cute on the crossover episode, but quickly became just plain creepy. Introducing a political problem between the male and female lead in the first ten minutes doesn't score any points with me. Dude. Horatio? You're not Grissom. Stop saying, "Ladies" and "Gentlemen" as if you're the schoolmarm trying to quiet rambunctious rugrats. The addition of Kim Delaney is totally annoying. Now the parallels are complete. Old guy, old gal (who, by the way, wears the wrong shoes for crime scene investigation), young gal, two young turks. I guess making the ME a crazy black lady is their big twist. I say thumbs down on CSI: Maimi.
On the bright side of TV, I get to watch the Buffy and Smallville season premieres tonight. I'll have to pick up some ice cream, Dr. Pepper and cigarettes to make this perfect. Will the bad reporter get away with Clark's secret? Will Lex find out? (But that wouldn't make sense, because if Lex Luthor knows Superman's secret identity, wouldn't he tell everyone in the future?) Will Chloe forgive Clark for saving Lana's Neutrogena-caked ass? Will Clark fly? I'm all a-tingle.
And by the way, I got my white belt in karate last Thursday. Watch out, evildoers! Grab me on the wrist all you want, I will easily slip through your grasp. Just don't grab me by the shirt, because I haven't quite figured that one out yet.
I tried so hard to watch CSI: Miami last night. I tried not to read all about breast cancer in my new Self magazine and focus instead on David Caruso & Co. recreating one of my favorite shows in backwoods-yet-exotic Southern Florida. But about 20 minutes in, I had to shut off the TV. It just shouldn't be that hard to watch television. I didn't care a fig for any of the characters. The ME's quirk of talking directly to the corpses was cute on the crossover episode, but quickly became just plain creepy. Introducing a political problem between the male and female lead in the first ten minutes doesn't score any points with me. Dude. Horatio? You're not Grissom. Stop saying, "Ladies" and "Gentlemen" as if you're the schoolmarm trying to quiet rambunctious rugrats. The addition of Kim Delaney is totally annoying. Now the parallels are complete. Old guy, old gal (who, by the way, wears the wrong shoes for crime scene investigation), young gal, two young turks. I guess making the ME a crazy black lady is their big twist. I say thumbs down on CSI: Maimi.
On the bright side of TV, I get to watch the Buffy and Smallville season premieres tonight. I'll have to pick up some ice cream, Dr. Pepper and cigarettes to make this perfect. Will the bad reporter get away with Clark's secret? Will Lex find out? (But that wouldn't make sense, because if Lex Luthor knows Superman's secret identity, wouldn't he tell everyone in the future?) Will Chloe forgive Clark for saving Lana's Neutrogena-caked ass? Will Clark fly? I'm all a-tingle.
And by the way, I got my white belt in karate last Thursday. Watch out, evildoers! Grab me on the wrist all you want, I will easily slip through your grasp. Just don't grab me by the shirt, because I haven't quite figured that one out yet.
Did Someone Hit Him With A Sledgehammer?
Oy, what's happened to Peter Gabriel? And why do bald guys always grow those crazy beards? It's not an even exchange of hair, really it's not. I don't know if I'll ever find "In Your Eyes" romantic again!
Oy, what's happened to Peter Gabriel? And why do bald guys always grow those crazy beards? It's not an even exchange of hair, really it's not. I don't know if I'll ever find "In Your Eyes" romantic again!
Manic Panic Tragic
Grr. I missed a Small Business Awards Breakfast I was invited to this morning. I was all ready to go, set the alarm, put out the clothes, tweezed my eyebrows before bed... Unfortunately, I set my alarm for 6:00 pm, not am. The worst part? Tish and Snooky from Manic Panic were receiving an award and they left goodie bags for everyone! Wah! If anyone has any clever alarm clock solutions, I'd be happy to hear them. I can barely get out of bed most mornings. I want one of those sunrise alarms (instead of a noise, you get ever-brightening light in your face), but I don't want to invest $100 on an untested solution. If you or anyone you know has used one of these things, your comments are welcome.
I'll just have my tea and donut, now, since I missed the free brekkie. *sigh*
Grr. I missed a Small Business Awards Breakfast I was invited to this morning. I was all ready to go, set the alarm, put out the clothes, tweezed my eyebrows before bed... Unfortunately, I set my alarm for 6:00 pm, not am. The worst part? Tish and Snooky from Manic Panic were receiving an award and they left goodie bags for everyone! Wah! If anyone has any clever alarm clock solutions, I'd be happy to hear them. I can barely get out of bed most mornings. I want one of those sunrise alarms (instead of a noise, you get ever-brightening light in your face), but I don't want to invest $100 on an untested solution. If you or anyone you know has used one of these things, your comments are welcome.
I'll just have my tea and donut, now, since I missed the free brekkie. *sigh*
I Can See Your Bloomies!
If you live in NYC and enjoy fashion, I suggest taking the trip up to Bloomingdales. Not for shopping of course, but for the window. The Lexington Avenue window is always wonderful, but the current display is cheeky and clever and makes you read. It's also subtle; I had to read an article about Mr. Verdi in The New York Observer before I realized that some of the fashion show audience were actually caricatures (Mr. Verdi is the one thinking about Vreeland). I could have guessed Nicky and Paris Hilton from the overdone "smoky" eyes, but the name tags were helpful. If all this means nothing to you, carry on. Otherwise, you should visit the store soon, because the exhibits don't last for too long, and this one has been up for a week already. By the way, the 59th Street corner window tells us that the now thing is "the new hobo," which will feature leopard print, fringed crescent bags that cost upwards of $100. Very hobo.
If you live in NYC and enjoy fashion, I suggest taking the trip up to Bloomingdales. Not for shopping of course, but for the window. The Lexington Avenue window is always wonderful, but the current display is cheeky and clever and makes you read. It's also subtle; I had to read an article about Mr. Verdi in The New York Observer before I realized that some of the fashion show audience were actually caricatures (Mr. Verdi is the one thinking about Vreeland). I could have guessed Nicky and Paris Hilton from the overdone "smoky" eyes, but the name tags were helpful. If all this means nothing to you, carry on. Otherwise, you should visit the store soon, because the exhibits don't last for too long, and this one has been up for a week already. By the way, the 59th Street corner window tells us that the now thing is "the new hobo," which will feature leopard print, fringed crescent bags that cost upwards of $100. Very hobo.
Monday, September 23, 2002
Survive This
Hey, did you watch Survivor last week? Not bad. I do wish I had better reception for CBS, though. I have to move the rabbit ears around on the color TV until I get the best picture, but because all I can hear is static, I have to put that TV on mute, then turn on the B&W TV in the other room for the sound. It's really not as pathetic as it sounds. I guess I should probably get cable someday, but I'm holding out for the all Buffy, Ab Fab and Prince videos station.
Hey, did you watch Survivor last week? Not bad. I do wish I had better reception for CBS, though. I have to move the rabbit ears around on the color TV until I get the best picture, but because all I can hear is static, I have to put that TV on mute, then turn on the B&W TV in the other room for the sound. It's really not as pathetic as it sounds. I guess I should probably get cable someday, but I'm holding out for the all Buffy, Ab Fab and Prince videos station.
Live Long and Hack The Planet?
I caught Hackers on TV last night during the Emmy's-induced moviefest on the other networks. I know it's not terribly realistic, but being the computer geek groupie that I am, I've always loved this movie. OK, the special monitor effects are a little cheesy, but how exciting is real hacking to the casual observer? Pretty drool-worthy, catatonia-wise. The weird thing I noticed this time is how much Kate Libby (Angelina Jolie) looks like Enterprise's Vulcan officer T'Pol. The actress who plays T'Pol is named Jolene. Interesting. (So why did they change her name from T'Pau? Didn't they want to go the "she's the head Vulcan in later episodes" route? I loved that song T'Pau did. Still one of my favorites. Anyway.)
Dude! I just realized that the "universally stupid" junior hacker Joey is played by Jesse "Swim Fan" Bradford. I thought he was the dreamiest in Bring It On. They have that movie at the library. I'm getting it again. OK, tangent over.
I caught Hackers on TV last night during the Emmy's-induced moviefest on the other networks. I know it's not terribly realistic, but being the computer geek groupie that I am, I've always loved this movie. OK, the special monitor effects are a little cheesy, but how exciting is real hacking to the casual observer? Pretty drool-worthy, catatonia-wise. The weird thing I noticed this time is how much Kate Libby (Angelina Jolie) looks like Enterprise's Vulcan officer T'Pol. The actress who plays T'Pol is named Jolene. Interesting. (So why did they change her name from T'Pau? Didn't they want to go the "she's the head Vulcan in later episodes" route? I loved that song T'Pau did. Still one of my favorites. Anyway.)
Dude! I just realized that the "universally stupid" junior hacker Joey is played by Jesse "Swim Fan" Bradford. I thought he was the dreamiest in Bring It On. They have that movie at the library. I'm getting it again. OK, tangent over.
Knees Together, Please
Not terrible article about one of my pet peeves. If you've ever ridden a train or a bus, you'll get it.
Not terrible article about one of my pet peeves. If you've ever ridden a train or a bus, you'll get it.
Miss America, Speech, Speech!
I caught part of the Miss America Pageant on Saturday. Miss Illinois won. I found her performance in the talent competition to be a bit sharp, and she didn't really kick ass on the quiz section, but she sure is pretty. Anyway, I was rooting for Miss Nevada, Teresa Benitez, who did a dramatic interpretation of Matthew Shepard's father's speech to the jury in the trial of the men who killed his son. Also, she scored second highest on the quiz (although I was disappointed that she didn't know Alan Shepard was the first American in space). Granted, I didn't see her in swimsuit, and her eveningwear was nice, but not spectacular. I liked her platform, which is fighting poverty, and she seemed very clever. She wants to be a senator, and she is very focused on helping poor people make the best of their lives, from what I heard her say. She did win third runner up. Miss Oklahoma did an awesome rendition of "Mr. Paganini." For a white girl, she handled the scat very well. Miss Alabama pretty much embarrassed herself with the Footloose, The Musical version of "Holding Out For a Hero." Yeeeagh. I hope they didn't perform it like that on Broadway. I am one of the few people who will admit to liking Wayne Brady, and I thought he did a nice job. He's the perfect guy to be a Miss America Pageant host and sing the song at the end.
I am sad I missed swimsuit, though. Did you know it's about fitness and lifestyle? No unhealthy flab-packages wrapping themselves into girdles allowed in this competition! No visible track-marks or boyfriend-beatings here! Yeah, swimsuit is okay with me. Where it creeps me out is in the teen pageants. Again, yeeagh.
I caught part of the Miss America Pageant on Saturday. Miss Illinois won. I found her performance in the talent competition to be a bit sharp, and she didn't really kick ass on the quiz section, but she sure is pretty. Anyway, I was rooting for Miss Nevada, Teresa Benitez, who did a dramatic interpretation of Matthew Shepard's father's speech to the jury in the trial of the men who killed his son. Also, she scored second highest on the quiz (although I was disappointed that she didn't know Alan Shepard was the first American in space). Granted, I didn't see her in swimsuit, and her eveningwear was nice, but not spectacular. I liked her platform, which is fighting poverty, and she seemed very clever. She wants to be a senator, and she is very focused on helping poor people make the best of their lives, from what I heard her say. She did win third runner up. Miss Oklahoma did an awesome rendition of "Mr. Paganini." For a white girl, she handled the scat very well. Miss Alabama pretty much embarrassed herself with the Footloose, The Musical version of "Holding Out For a Hero." Yeeeagh. I hope they didn't perform it like that on Broadway. I am one of the few people who will admit to liking Wayne Brady, and I thought he did a nice job. He's the perfect guy to be a Miss America Pageant host and sing the song at the end.
I am sad I missed swimsuit, though. Did you know it's about fitness and lifestyle? No unhealthy flab-packages wrapping themselves into girdles allowed in this competition! No visible track-marks or boyfriend-beatings here! Yeah, swimsuit is okay with me. Where it creeps me out is in the teen pageants. Again, yeeagh.
More (and Less) Than Potted Meat
I opened up my personal e-mail account to 49 new messages, 44 of which were spam. The remaining 5 were from lists I am on. How very sad. I unplug my phone for a week and the only voice mails are from pre-recorded telemarketing machines. The only person to call my cell phone in the past week was a friend letting me know that CBS was rerunning Survivor on Saturday. Why do I have this infernal technology if it never gets used?
Hey, who else was pleasantly surprised to see Michael Chiklis win the Emmy for best lead actor in a drama series? I loved him in The Commish. I haven't seen The Shield, but I understand (I saw some previews on FX) that it's a big departure for him. I'm glad he dragged his acceptance speech out.
Speaking of the Emmys, I am more eager than ever to find out where I have seen Peter Krause before. I'm convinced he played a gay character in a "gay" movie, possibly more than once. Before I go to imdb.com, I'm going to guess Long Time Companion and Jeffrey. Back in a flash!
*****************************************
Gah! Of course! Sports Night! How could I be so very, very dense? He played Casey. I am so ashamed. Carry on, people, nothing to see here.
I opened up my personal e-mail account to 49 new messages, 44 of which were spam. The remaining 5 were from lists I am on. How very sad. I unplug my phone for a week and the only voice mails are from pre-recorded telemarketing machines. The only person to call my cell phone in the past week was a friend letting me know that CBS was rerunning Survivor on Saturday. Why do I have this infernal technology if it never gets used?
Hey, who else was pleasantly surprised to see Michael Chiklis win the Emmy for best lead actor in a drama series? I loved him in The Commish. I haven't seen The Shield, but I understand (I saw some previews on FX) that it's a big departure for him. I'm glad he dragged his acceptance speech out.
Speaking of the Emmys, I am more eager than ever to find out where I have seen Peter Krause before. I'm convinced he played a gay character in a "gay" movie, possibly more than once. Before I go to imdb.com, I'm going to guess Long Time Companion and Jeffrey. Back in a flash!
*****************************************
Gah! Of course! Sports Night! How could I be so very, very dense? He played Casey. I am so ashamed. Carry on, people, nothing to see here.
Friday, September 20, 2002
Scary Stuff, Man
This is just scary to me. How are we supposed to be this conquering nation if defense spending is lower than it's been in years? Plus, Bush spends the first part of his administration isolating our country and pulling out of international treaties, then starts declaring the US's right to attack at will and dictate the governments of other countries? WTF? Where the hell does he get off? We may be big badasses, but if every other country in the world gets too pissed off with us, I don't think we could effectively protect ourselves. I just don't see the diplomacy here. The reason I comment so much on the upcoming war is that I'm afraid. I think we should all be afraid of the threat of war. We, the contiguous USA, are not safe from direct attack. It's been made plain that I live in a first-strike area. Back in 1990, when Bush Senior was waging war in the Middle East, the US sat back, as if drugged into complacency by carefully engineered media broadcasts about "Desert Storm," casually displaying yellow ribbons for soldiers they weren't really all that worried about. After all, the memories of Vietnam were fading, and this war seemed so clean. Well, war isn't clean, and I don't personally cotton to the idea of dying in one. Just ask any surviving residents of My Lai or villagers in Afghanistan how easy it is for civilians to be brought into the fray. I'm tired of nobody talking about how wrong this is. And why Iraq? At the same time that the country that harbored, abetted, and financed the terrorists who actually attacked our country are favored guests at the White House, the country that has conceded to allow inspectors back into its country, the country that backed down in the face of threats, is being targeted. Is starting a war with Iraq really the number one priority for the United States? Because if it is, we should probably get on a war footing and stop thinking we can launch a full-scale war without the funding and training we need. Jeez.
Again, sorry for the political tirades, but I don't think it's a good idea to keep our heads in the sand on this one.
This is just scary to me. How are we supposed to be this conquering nation if defense spending is lower than it's been in years? Plus, Bush spends the first part of his administration isolating our country and pulling out of international treaties, then starts declaring the US's right to attack at will and dictate the governments of other countries? WTF? Where the hell does he get off? We may be big badasses, but if every other country in the world gets too pissed off with us, I don't think we could effectively protect ourselves. I just don't see the diplomacy here. The reason I comment so much on the upcoming war is that I'm afraid. I think we should all be afraid of the threat of war. We, the contiguous USA, are not safe from direct attack. It's been made plain that I live in a first-strike area. Back in 1990, when Bush Senior was waging war in the Middle East, the US sat back, as if drugged into complacency by carefully engineered media broadcasts about "Desert Storm," casually displaying yellow ribbons for soldiers they weren't really all that worried about. After all, the memories of Vietnam were fading, and this war seemed so clean. Well, war isn't clean, and I don't personally cotton to the idea of dying in one. Just ask any surviving residents of My Lai or villagers in Afghanistan how easy it is for civilians to be brought into the fray. I'm tired of nobody talking about how wrong this is. And why Iraq? At the same time that the country that harbored, abetted, and financed the terrorists who actually attacked our country are favored guests at the White House, the country that has conceded to allow inspectors back into its country, the country that backed down in the face of threats, is being targeted. Is starting a war with Iraq really the number one priority for the United States? Because if it is, we should probably get on a war footing and stop thinking we can launch a full-scale war without the funding and training we need. Jeez.
Again, sorry for the political tirades, but I don't think it's a good idea to keep our heads in the sand on this one.
Call a Spade a Spade
I wish people, and by that I mean politicians, could just say what they think and stand behind it, instead of having to backpeddle and kiss the possibly offended person's ass. I also wish you could say the name "Hitler" without all knees in the room hitting the underside of the table. Seriously, this "don't say bad things about Bush or he'll get you next" envirnoment is frightening. This dude should so not be allowed to direct military operations. Just two more years until we have a chance to fix this mess!
I Am Not Making This Up
I'm enjoying Dave Barry's new book, Dave Barry Hits Below the Beltway. I've been a fan of Dave Barry for years. My dad would cut his columns out of the paper for me, and I would read a month's (or a year's!) worth at a sitting. I have a few of his books, and I even received a signed copy of one of them for my birthday from my old pop. He's the kind of writer that makes me laugh out loud. I have a feeling he wrote this book while enjoying a lot of beer, because it's just out there. Very wacky, but chock full of real information about government and, most comically, South Florida. For instance, did you know that the current and immediate-past mayors of Miami are nicknamed "Crazy Joe" and "Mayor Loco"? It's true! The mayor of Hialeah was reelected twice while he was appealing a conviction on racketeering and extortion charges. Also true. South Florida is overrrun with lizards and amphibians of every kind, and also retired people. This is all very hilarious when you read it as explained by Dave Barry, of course. It's also the first time I've read about Gary Hart in years. Blah, blah, blah, go out and pick it up if you like a fast read that makes you snort milk out of your nose while also making you feel better about not being able to do anything about our twisted political system.
I wish people, and by that I mean politicians, could just say what they think and stand behind it, instead of having to backpeddle and kiss the possibly offended person's ass. I also wish you could say the name "Hitler" without all knees in the room hitting the underside of the table. Seriously, this "don't say bad things about Bush or he'll get you next" envirnoment is frightening. This dude should so not be allowed to direct military operations. Just two more years until we have a chance to fix this mess!
I Am Not Making This Up
I'm enjoying Dave Barry's new book, Dave Barry Hits Below the Beltway. I've been a fan of Dave Barry for years. My dad would cut his columns out of the paper for me, and I would read a month's (or a year's!) worth at a sitting. I have a few of his books, and I even received a signed copy of one of them for my birthday from my old pop. He's the kind of writer that makes me laugh out loud. I have a feeling he wrote this book while enjoying a lot of beer, because it's just out there. Very wacky, but chock full of real information about government and, most comically, South Florida. For instance, did you know that the current and immediate-past mayors of Miami are nicknamed "Crazy Joe" and "Mayor Loco"? It's true! The mayor of Hialeah was reelected twice while he was appealing a conviction on racketeering and extortion charges. Also true. South Florida is overrrun with lizards and amphibians of every kind, and also retired people. This is all very hilarious when you read it as explained by Dave Barry, of course. It's also the first time I've read about Gary Hart in years. Blah, blah, blah, go out and pick it up if you like a fast read that makes you snort milk out of your nose while also making you feel better about not being able to do anything about our twisted political system.
Thursday, September 19, 2002
Dude!
Eeek! Ohmigod, I couldn't even think of a clever headline for this one. Run, don't walk to the newest Ricky's at 509 Fifth Avenue (42nd Street, NYC)! It's scheduled to open today, and is bigger and better than all previous locations, even featuring a hair salon that "will only do funky cuts and wild color jobs." Like a low-rent (I hope!) Patricia Field's. Yow, yow, yow! I'm so excited! Ricky's is expanding big time, all over the city and out to Hollywood and SoBe. Neat-o skeeto, I say. Time for some fake-hair and eyelashes shopping.
Eeek! Ohmigod, I couldn't even think of a clever headline for this one. Run, don't walk to the newest Ricky's at 509 Fifth Avenue (42nd Street, NYC)! It's scheduled to open today, and is bigger and better than all previous locations, even featuring a hair salon that "will only do funky cuts and wild color jobs." Like a low-rent (I hope!) Patricia Field's. Yow, yow, yow! I'm so excited! Ricky's is expanding big time, all over the city and out to Hollywood and SoBe. Neat-o skeeto, I say. Time for some fake-hair and eyelashes shopping.
The Street Are Alive With the Sound of Slaughter
I can't believe it. I knew that the meatpacking district (NYC) had gone shi-shi, but the Hotel Gansevoort? Some guy (Raymond Visan) who owns some supposedly legendary nightspot in Paris (Buddha Bar) is opening a über-trendy "eatery" at the Hotel Gansevoort, which is in development at Gansevoort and 10th Avenue (plus, he's opening a Buddha Bar at 16th & 9th, next to Chelsea Market). Oh yeah, I sure would like to stay in a hotel that is smack dab in the middle of the meatpacking district. Imagine, waking up to the sound of trucks around 4 am, greeting the new day's fresh aromas of blood, guts and fat as it washes down the street. Be careful not to slip! It makes me want to puke, even more than I did when I would visit Mother at 14th Street and Washington during the dog days of summer. Sometimes the stench was intolerable. But that's the best place to put a nightblub crawling with unsavory characters. Now it's all haute couture boutiques (that's a lot of "u"s) and art galleries. It's just weird. Why does everything have to get so "nice"? Maybe I should move to Detroit!
I can't believe it. I knew that the meatpacking district (NYC) had gone shi-shi, but the Hotel Gansevoort? Some guy (Raymond Visan) who owns some supposedly legendary nightspot in Paris (Buddha Bar) is opening a über-trendy "eatery" at the Hotel Gansevoort, which is in development at Gansevoort and 10th Avenue (plus, he's opening a Buddha Bar at 16th & 9th, next to Chelsea Market). Oh yeah, I sure would like to stay in a hotel that is smack dab in the middle of the meatpacking district. Imagine, waking up to the sound of trucks around 4 am, greeting the new day's fresh aromas of blood, guts and fat as it washes down the street. Be careful not to slip! It makes me want to puke, even more than I did when I would visit Mother at 14th Street and Washington during the dog days of summer. Sometimes the stench was intolerable. But that's the best place to put a nightblub crawling with unsavory characters. Now it's all haute couture boutiques (that's a lot of "u"s) and art galleries. It's just weird. Why does everything have to get so "nice"? Maybe I should move to Detroit!
I Told You I Wasn't Borderline!
My results from a psychological profile test I took on-line:
I have to say, I'm not really surprised. Of course, a true psychological profile would rely on more than thirty-some questions with yes or no answers. Right? Right?
The website also recommended this book, which "might help." Now, I joke all the time about the whole narcissism thing, but really, who could say that I exhibit "a combination of gross insensitivity to others, intolerance of personal shortcomings, and a bewilderment at the seeming aridity of life itself." I don't even know what the seeming aridity of life means. I may like to look at myself in the mirror and generally think I'm better than everyone else, but aren't most serial killers narcissists? I could never be a serial killer. And I'm not one of those "people who appear to be strong, untouchable and self-important [who] are in fact weak and apprehesive [sic]", am I? Hmm, maybe I do have a personality disorder! It's not very glamorous, though. Makes me out to be some kind of wuss. I have always said that I have an inferiority complex which I mask with a superiority complex. This is interesting. Of course, I generally think that the medical community developed personality disorders to describe people who are simply different from normal people, and I'm okay with that. I'd rather have be a narcissist or histrionic than be normal. At least I draw the line at taking advantage of people or lying. That makes me entertaining versus a danger to others. Ah, now that that's out of the way, take the test yourself!
My results from a psychological profile test I took on-line:
| Disorder | Rating |
| Paranoid: | Moderate |
| Schizoid: | Low |
| Schizotypal: | Low |
| Antisocial: | Low |
| Borderline: | Low |
| Histrionic: | High |
| Narcissistic: | Very High |
| Avoidant: | Low |
| Dependent: | Low |
| Obsessive-Compulsive: | Moderate |
-- Click Here To Take The Test -- | |
I have to say, I'm not really surprised. Of course, a true psychological profile would rely on more than thirty-some questions with yes or no answers. Right? Right?
The website also recommended this book, which "might help." Now, I joke all the time about the whole narcissism thing, but really, who could say that I exhibit "a combination of gross insensitivity to others, intolerance of personal shortcomings, and a bewilderment at the seeming aridity of life itself." I don't even know what the seeming aridity of life means. I may like to look at myself in the mirror and generally think I'm better than everyone else, but aren't most serial killers narcissists? I could never be a serial killer. And I'm not one of those "people who appear to be strong, untouchable and self-important [who] are in fact weak and apprehesive [sic]", am I? Hmm, maybe I do have a personality disorder! It's not very glamorous, though. Makes me out to be some kind of wuss. I have always said that I have an inferiority complex which I mask with a superiority complex. This is interesting. Of course, I generally think that the medical community developed personality disorders to describe people who are simply different from normal people, and I'm okay with that. I'd rather have be a narcissist or histrionic than be normal. At least I draw the line at taking advantage of people or lying. That makes me entertaining versus a danger to others. Ah, now that that's out of the way, take the test yourself!
Little Miss Muffet Counting Down From Seven-Three-Oh
Hey, are you as excited as I am about the new season of Buffy, the Vampire Slayer? What? You say I've been dissing BtVS for months and I have no right to be looking forward to Season Seven? Well, I would have agreed with you until recently, when I found out that, at some point in the season, probably near the end, Faith (Eliza Dushku) will be returning to Sunnydale. Woo hoo! Maybe Mutant Enemy has seen the error of its ways. Seriously, I turned my nose up at watching a re-run of the Season Six finale on Tuesday in favor of That 70s Show and Life With Bonnie (which was funny!). Season Six was so bad (with the exception of "Once More, With Feeling," and even that lacked something. Oh! And "Normal Again," of course.), I was excited to watch re-runs of Season Four, the dreaded Riley years.
Anyhoo, the premiere of Season Seven is Tuesday, September 24, at 8 pm on UPN. I'm on to you people, so I'll be unplugging my phone. Will Dawn stop being so whiny? Will Buffy stop being so whiny? Will Willow realize that she's not actually Wiccan or gay and stop using both words to describe herself? Will Xander lose some weight and be less of a tool? Will Anya still be on the show? Did Spike actually want his soul restored or was there a breakdown in communication between him and the weird Power-Rangers-style demon in the cave? Is Giles sticking around? Can The Magic Box be renovated at a reasonable cost? Is Buffy going back to college or to the stupid fast-food job? Will there be a real villain this season, or more suckiness? Can someone do something about the costumes and production values? Will we ever see Oz again? Is Faith returning to remind viewers that because of Buffy dying in Season One and Kendra dying in Season Two, that she is the actual Slayer, not Buffy, which is why no new Slayer was called after Buffy died in Season Five? Huh? Because if no one addresses that simple, simple fact in this season, I am writing a letter to Joss Whedon that says, "Shame on you for abandoning your show to total idiots while you go and make a show about space cowboys!"
Ahem.
Sorry about that. Watch the premiere! Maybe ratings will encourage the writers to reread what they dash off at the breakfast table before they miss the bus.
Hey, are you as excited as I am about the new season of Buffy, the Vampire Slayer? What? You say I've been dissing BtVS for months and I have no right to be looking forward to Season Seven? Well, I would have agreed with you until recently, when I found out that, at some point in the season, probably near the end, Faith (Eliza Dushku) will be returning to Sunnydale. Woo hoo! Maybe Mutant Enemy has seen the error of its ways. Seriously, I turned my nose up at watching a re-run of the Season Six finale on Tuesday in favor of That 70s Show and Life With Bonnie (which was funny!). Season Six was so bad (with the exception of "Once More, With Feeling," and even that lacked something. Oh! And "Normal Again," of course.), I was excited to watch re-runs of Season Four, the dreaded Riley years.
Anyhoo, the premiere of Season Seven is Tuesday, September 24, at 8 pm on UPN. I'm on to you people, so I'll be unplugging my phone. Will Dawn stop being so whiny? Will Buffy stop being so whiny? Will Willow realize that she's not actually Wiccan or gay and stop using both words to describe herself? Will Xander lose some weight and be less of a tool? Will Anya still be on the show? Did Spike actually want his soul restored or was there a breakdown in communication between him and the weird Power-Rangers-style demon in the cave? Is Giles sticking around? Can The Magic Box be renovated at a reasonable cost? Is Buffy going back to college or to the stupid fast-food job? Will there be a real villain this season, or more suckiness? Can someone do something about the costumes and production values? Will we ever see Oz again? Is Faith returning to remind viewers that because of Buffy dying in Season One and Kendra dying in Season Two, that she is the actual Slayer, not Buffy, which is why no new Slayer was called after Buffy died in Season Five? Huh? Because if no one addresses that simple, simple fact in this season, I am writing a letter to Joss Whedon that says, "Shame on you for abandoning your show to total idiots while you go and make a show about space cowboys!"
Ahem.
Sorry about that. Watch the premiere! Maybe ratings will encourage the writers to reread what they dash off at the breakfast table before they miss the bus.
Sex Madness in the Motor City
Ew. Syphilis is on the rise in Detroit. More fun facts: Did you know there are only one million people in Detroit? I've totally lost my perspective on how big that is. I mean, I always thought Detroit was bigger than (Greater) Cincinnati, but it's not. It used to be, though. Still, New York has nearly eight million people. That's just crazy. Brooklyn by itself is bigger than both Detroit and Cincinnati combined.
A couple of months ago, I was standing in line for the Wonder Wheel at Coney Island with my niece. She looked at the teeming mass of humanity around her, and asked me how you ever met anyone in a city this big. It's funny, a lot of people find it curious that you can be lonely while surrounded by so many people, but she went right for the heart of the matter. It's overwhelming, all these people that you don't know. It's more frustrating when you are alone, because you think, gee, there are people coming out of the woodwork around here, what's my problem? It's misleading. Let's do some (very rough) calculations. There are 8 million people in New York. Let's say there are 3 million adult males, give or take. Say 1.5 million of them are single. Maybe 2 million, as this is New York. Also, since this is New York, let's throw Kinsey out the window and say that 1 million of them are gay. That leaves 1 million. Cross out those that live in Staten Island, Queens and The Bronx. Sorry, I refuse to do the commute. What's left? 500,000? About 250,000 of them are "That Guy." Thankfully this isn't Detroit, so I don't have to discount the ones with syphilis, but the 100,000 who live with their parents and/or are under the age of 28 can just pick up their coats at the door. 150,000 single, straight, old-enough, non-That Guy, self-sufficient guys in New York for me to meet. Still, there's the common interest factor. The physical attraction factor. The not-being-intimidated-by-my-strong-personality factor. The good taste in music factor. Hell, I require most of this stuff from just my friends. There are so many people in New York, every strange subculture is able to support itself, which draws people into these niche existences, where they rarely explore and find new things to do, so I'm looking at the same crowd every place I go. And sure, there's the dating and the sex, but the last time I had that feeling, the one that lights up the heart-shaped neon sign over my head, it was kind of abruptly removed.
Hmm, wasn't I talking about syphilis in Detroit? Must be the romantic in me.
I still haven't noticed myself touching the monitor, but the smudges prove me wrong.
Ew. Syphilis is on the rise in Detroit. More fun facts: Did you know there are only one million people in Detroit? I've totally lost my perspective on how big that is. I mean, I always thought Detroit was bigger than (Greater) Cincinnati, but it's not. It used to be, though. Still, New York has nearly eight million people. That's just crazy. Brooklyn by itself is bigger than both Detroit and Cincinnati combined.
A couple of months ago, I was standing in line for the Wonder Wheel at Coney Island with my niece. She looked at the teeming mass of humanity around her, and asked me how you ever met anyone in a city this big. It's funny, a lot of people find it curious that you can be lonely while surrounded by so many people, but she went right for the heart of the matter. It's overwhelming, all these people that you don't know. It's more frustrating when you are alone, because you think, gee, there are people coming out of the woodwork around here, what's my problem? It's misleading. Let's do some (very rough) calculations. There are 8 million people in New York. Let's say there are 3 million adult males, give or take. Say 1.5 million of them are single. Maybe 2 million, as this is New York. Also, since this is New York, let's throw Kinsey out the window and say that 1 million of them are gay. That leaves 1 million. Cross out those that live in Staten Island, Queens and The Bronx. Sorry, I refuse to do the commute. What's left? 500,000? About 250,000 of them are "That Guy." Thankfully this isn't Detroit, so I don't have to discount the ones with syphilis, but the 100,000 who live with their parents and/or are under the age of 28 can just pick up their coats at the door. 150,000 single, straight, old-enough, non-That Guy, self-sufficient guys in New York for me to meet. Still, there's the common interest factor. The physical attraction factor. The not-being-intimidated-by-my-strong-personality factor. The good taste in music factor. Hell, I require most of this stuff from just my friends. There are so many people in New York, every strange subculture is able to support itself, which draws people into these niche existences, where they rarely explore and find new things to do, so I'm looking at the same crowd every place I go. And sure, there's the dating and the sex, but the last time I had that feeling, the one that lights up the heart-shaped neon sign over my head, it was kind of abruptly removed.
Hmm, wasn't I talking about syphilis in Detroit? Must be the romantic in me.
I still haven't noticed myself touching the monitor, but the smudges prove me wrong.
Wednesday, September 18, 2002
Happy Wednesday
Today's going to be pretty good, I think.
I don't realize I'm doing it, but I must touch my computer monitor a lot. But why? Why would I do that?
I borrowed some movies from the library. Oklahoma, The King & I, The Apartment, and French & Saunders, which I watched last night. I've been a fan of F&S since their appearances on The Young Ones and then, of course, Ab Fab. This tape, "Living in the Material World," was hilarious. I have never really understood how BBC programming works, so I can't tell if this was individual episodes strung together or a special program, because it was two hours. Reminded me a bit of a Tracy Takes On... or Brain Candy. Regardless, it's well-worth hunting down and viewing if you like Brit-com, parodies of American TV shows (Baywatch, Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman), foreign films (Bergman, Fellini), and Madonna.
I'll leave the Rodgers & Hammerstein for the weekend. More opportunities to sing along without disturbing the neighbors. Speaking of, I really want to see the revival of Flower Drum Song, as its one of the very few R&H shows I've never seen. If anyone wants to go, please let me know. Free tickets are a plus.
I also borrowed a book which I am returning today. Some nutcase publisher thought that Laurell K. Hamilton's latest book, Narcissus in Chains, was suitable for hardcover. The continuing story of intrepid and overly bitchy vampire hunter, Anita Blake, spirals into preteen-lust grade pulp in the latest installment. In my own defense, I read the first eight books of the series in about a month, a couple of years ago. My roommate had them all in paperback, and they were easy reads, about one of my favorite subjects. I knew they were trash, but the fact that they were in dogeared paperback made it okay. Isn't it considered a poor writing style to write "reeeally" to show emphasis outside of dialogue? How about, "The top was actually, gasp, a well-fitted halter top." She writes vaguely of things like "metaphysical stuff," "power," "auras," and "vampire marks," but she never makes it clear that she really understands her own mythology, so how am I supposed to understand it? At least the first few books focused more on her work with the police and with raising the dead. This book is sex, sex, sex from page one, and way too many descriptions of character's outfits. I was embarrassed that someone on the train might be reading over my shoulder. I may not be a writer, but I know when writing stinks, and this book is pure Limburger. Oy. Worse than Caleb Carr's Killing Time. Even worse than that King/Straub grotesquerie Black House. This one doesn't even get past page 51 with me. Buh-bye.
Today's going to be pretty good, I think.
I don't realize I'm doing it, but I must touch my computer monitor a lot. But why? Why would I do that?
I borrowed some movies from the library. Oklahoma, The King & I, The Apartment, and French & Saunders, which I watched last night. I've been a fan of F&S since their appearances on The Young Ones and then, of course, Ab Fab. This tape, "Living in the Material World," was hilarious. I have never really understood how BBC programming works, so I can't tell if this was individual episodes strung together or a special program, because it was two hours. Reminded me a bit of a Tracy Takes On... or Brain Candy. Regardless, it's well-worth hunting down and viewing if you like Brit-com, parodies of American TV shows (Baywatch, Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman), foreign films (Bergman, Fellini), and Madonna.
I'll leave the Rodgers & Hammerstein for the weekend. More opportunities to sing along without disturbing the neighbors. Speaking of, I really want to see the revival of Flower Drum Song, as its one of the very few R&H shows I've never seen. If anyone wants to go, please let me know. Free tickets are a plus.
I also borrowed a book which I am returning today. Some nutcase publisher thought that Laurell K. Hamilton's latest book, Narcissus in Chains, was suitable for hardcover. The continuing story of intrepid and overly bitchy vampire hunter, Anita Blake, spirals into preteen-lust grade pulp in the latest installment. In my own defense, I read the first eight books of the series in about a month, a couple of years ago. My roommate had them all in paperback, and they were easy reads, about one of my favorite subjects. I knew they were trash, but the fact that they were in dogeared paperback made it okay. Isn't it considered a poor writing style to write "reeeally" to show emphasis outside of dialogue? How about, "The top was actually, gasp, a well-fitted halter top." She writes vaguely of things like "metaphysical stuff," "power," "auras," and "vampire marks," but she never makes it clear that she really understands her own mythology, so how am I supposed to understand it? At least the first few books focused more on her work with the police and with raising the dead. This book is sex, sex, sex from page one, and way too many descriptions of character's outfits. I was embarrassed that someone on the train might be reading over my shoulder. I may not be a writer, but I know when writing stinks, and this book is pure Limburger. Oy. Worse than Caleb Carr's Killing Time. Even worse than that King/Straub grotesquerie Black House. This one doesn't even get past page 51 with me. Buh-bye.
Tuesday, September 17, 2002
Place Your Bets
In an effort to dig myself out of this hole of ennui, I'm going to stop self-medicating with booze, nicotine and red meat for a while. I don't know how long it will last, but I've been living like I have PMS for months now, and it's ridiculous. If McDonald's gave out green stamps, I'd have a McCar right about now. Full-size, not Happy Meal size (I already have one of those). I figure that if I'm not smoking or drinking or weighing myself down with grease-burgers, lying around my apartment and staring into space will get boring and I'll get off my ass and do something. Mondays and Thursdays I have karate, but I still just lie on the couch immediately afterward, smoking and flipping the remote control over the same 7 stations for hours until I crawl into bed.
Wow, that sounds really depressing. I need to buy a latch-hook rug kit. Also, I'll pick up another book from the library tonight. Maybe I could paint my toenails, too. That's an activity.
And you all thought my life was fascinating.
In an effort to dig myself out of this hole of ennui, I'm going to stop self-medicating with booze, nicotine and red meat for a while. I don't know how long it will last, but I've been living like I have PMS for months now, and it's ridiculous. If McDonald's gave out green stamps, I'd have a McCar right about now. Full-size, not Happy Meal size (I already have one of those). I figure that if I'm not smoking or drinking or weighing myself down with grease-burgers, lying around my apartment and staring into space will get boring and I'll get off my ass and do something. Mondays and Thursdays I have karate, but I still just lie on the couch immediately afterward, smoking and flipping the remote control over the same 7 stations for hours until I crawl into bed.
Wow, that sounds really depressing. I need to buy a latch-hook rug kit. Also, I'll pick up another book from the library tonight. Maybe I could paint my toenails, too. That's an activity.
And you all thought my life was fascinating.
Real World, Schmreal World
In further proof that no one in charge knows what to do about public education, the Bush administration is pushing for more single-sex public schools. First, it's vouchers for private school. Now it's making public schools segregated. I really don't think that our Department of Education fully grasps the concept of public education. Did any of them go to public school? Just curious. The arguments in this situation are obvious and long-standing. Educating girls in an environment where they don't have to compete with boys or with other girls for the attention of boys is fine and dandy, but it doesn't prepare them for life in the real world. Most kids who go to public school versus private school won't have the means to remain sheltered that way after graduation. Then what? Women's college? Fine. Then what? The same can be said of black colleges: they don't prepare students for life in American society and breed chauvinism.
What public schools need is more money. More money for more and better qualified teachers, supplies, resources, and upkeep of the buildings. Funneling that money away from public schools and into vouchers or new specialized public schools is not the answer, and only benefits a small percentage of students rather than benefiting the system overall. Full disclosure: I went to public school and graduated in one of the poorest states in the country.
Disclaimer
I know I've been very bitter and political lately. Just for the record, I am not a Democrat (I'm non-partisan), and I don't have it out for Bush in particular. He just happens to be perpetrating the kind of political stupidity that makes me the most irate. Can you really blame me for being concerned that our country is going to Utah in a handbasket? Terrorism, war, corporate corruption, secret tribunals, unqualified detentions, Dick Cheney, ambiguous boycotts in Cincinnati, smoking bans in New York, birthday party, cheesecake, jellybean, boom! Add to that that we are being represented to the world by a guy who can't pronounce "nuclear" and makes menacing speeches that make him look bonkers, and I'm a little nervous.
I think my mom would have been a good president. If she had a problem with some dictator, she'd call him up on the phone and say: "Saddam Muhammed Hussein! Are you listening to me? What did I tell you? *loud sigh* So, why haven't you done it yet? Are you trying to make me mad? You don't want me to come over there, do you? OK. So, just let the UN in, and then you can come over to the White House for some dinner. What are we having? Reeraws to rind moonbeams on. Never you mind. You'll eat what I make you. OK. Good. Don't make me have to call you again. OK. Bye-bye." And all would be well. In speeches, if she had to menace people, she'd just raise her eyebrow. Someone would have to convince her to not say "irregardless" and pronounce "wash" without an "r" sound, but otherwise, she'd be pretty good. Plus, then my stepfather would be the First Gentleman (?), and everybody loves him. He'd be the next Jackie Kennedy, but different. Instead of pillbox hats, the nation would adopt the "fishing joke t-shirt and jeans with a hole in the crotch" look. Beards would become very popular, and Gary Burbank would be nationally syndicated. There absolutely wouldn't be any impeaching, because that White House would be spotless, both in integrity and in cleanliness. My mom would dust the cobwebs herself. Only she can see the ones that are really high up in the corners. The White House collectable plate collection would be envied the world over. And forget Millie, Checkers and Socks, the halls of the Craven White House would ring with a cacophony of barks, meows and growls.
Oh, sorry for the tangent. But maybe you can understand why a little fantasy about my mom being the POTUS is preferable for me to think about than real life.
In further proof that no one in charge knows what to do about public education, the Bush administration is pushing for more single-sex public schools. First, it's vouchers for private school. Now it's making public schools segregated. I really don't think that our Department of Education fully grasps the concept of public education. Did any of them go to public school? Just curious. The arguments in this situation are obvious and long-standing. Educating girls in an environment where they don't have to compete with boys or with other girls for the attention of boys is fine and dandy, but it doesn't prepare them for life in the real world. Most kids who go to public school versus private school won't have the means to remain sheltered that way after graduation. Then what? Women's college? Fine. Then what? The same can be said of black colleges: they don't prepare students for life in American society and breed chauvinism.
What public schools need is more money. More money for more and better qualified teachers, supplies, resources, and upkeep of the buildings. Funneling that money away from public schools and into vouchers or new specialized public schools is not the answer, and only benefits a small percentage of students rather than benefiting the system overall. Full disclosure: I went to public school and graduated in one of the poorest states in the country.
Disclaimer
I know I've been very bitter and political lately. Just for the record, I am not a Democrat (I'm non-partisan), and I don't have it out for Bush in particular. He just happens to be perpetrating the kind of political stupidity that makes me the most irate. Can you really blame me for being concerned that our country is going to Utah in a handbasket? Terrorism, war, corporate corruption, secret tribunals, unqualified detentions, Dick Cheney, ambiguous boycotts in Cincinnati, smoking bans in New York, birthday party, cheesecake, jellybean, boom! Add to that that we are being represented to the world by a guy who can't pronounce "nuclear" and makes menacing speeches that make him look bonkers, and I'm a little nervous.
I think my mom would have been a good president. If she had a problem with some dictator, she'd call him up on the phone and say: "Saddam Muhammed Hussein! Are you listening to me? What did I tell you? *loud sigh* So, why haven't you done it yet? Are you trying to make me mad? You don't want me to come over there, do you? OK. So, just let the UN in, and then you can come over to the White House for some dinner. What are we having? Reeraws to rind moonbeams on. Never you mind. You'll eat what I make you. OK. Good. Don't make me have to call you again. OK. Bye-bye." And all would be well. In speeches, if she had to menace people, she'd just raise her eyebrow. Someone would have to convince her to not say "irregardless" and pronounce "wash" without an "r" sound, but otherwise, she'd be pretty good. Plus, then my stepfather would be the First Gentleman (?), and everybody loves him. He'd be the next Jackie Kennedy, but different. Instead of pillbox hats, the nation would adopt the "fishing joke t-shirt and jeans with a hole in the crotch" look. Beards would become very popular, and Gary Burbank would be nationally syndicated. There absolutely wouldn't be any impeaching, because that White House would be spotless, both in integrity and in cleanliness. My mom would dust the cobwebs herself. Only she can see the ones that are really high up in the corners. The White House collectable plate collection would be envied the world over. And forget Millie, Checkers and Socks, the halls of the Craven White House would ring with a cacophony of barks, meows and growls.
Oh, sorry for the tangent. But maybe you can understand why a little fantasy about my mom being the POTUS is preferable for me to think about than real life.
Monday, September 16, 2002
Some Clarification
Friends and family know about my anti-marriage stance, but I see their eyes glaze over when try to explain what I mean, so I'm frequently mocked if I happen to mention marriage in relation to myself. Responding to an article about partners who are not spouses getting screwed on death benefits post-9/11, Shane Landrum writes about some of my real objections to marriage today:
"Hicklin's article points out what committed unmarried couples, same-sex and otherwise, have known for years: that reducing relationships to a piece of paper causes thousands of relationships to not count in the eyes of families and the state. Those who choose not to marry or are not legally allowed to marry get the 'privilege' of being told that our relationships aren't 'real' or significant.
"American law and culture places a huge weight on marriage certificates as the single legal marker of the validity of a relationship. Married people are accorded hundreds of legal and social privileges that unmarried couples don't get, from survivor benefits to avoidance of estate taxes."
The question is, what makes married people more deserving of these types of benefits? Is it a moral question? Is the government telling us that only people who follow religiously imposed rules of morality may reap the gifts of the state? Is a married person better than I am? Bump that, I'd rather take my second-class status and wear it as a crown than join the government's little popularity contest. Nothing changes if we all just go with the flow, you know.
Friends and family know about my anti-marriage stance, but I see their eyes glaze over when try to explain what I mean, so I'm frequently mocked if I happen to mention marriage in relation to myself. Responding to an article about partners who are not spouses getting screwed on death benefits post-9/11, Shane Landrum writes about some of my real objections to marriage today:
"Hicklin's article points out what committed unmarried couples, same-sex and otherwise, have known for years: that reducing relationships to a piece of paper causes thousands of relationships to not count in the eyes of families and the state. Those who choose not to marry or are not legally allowed to marry get the 'privilege' of being told that our relationships aren't 'real' or significant.
"American law and culture places a huge weight on marriage certificates as the single legal marker of the validity of a relationship. Married people are accorded hundreds of legal and social privileges that unmarried couples don't get, from survivor benefits to avoidance of estate taxes."
The question is, what makes married people more deserving of these types of benefits? Is it a moral question? Is the government telling us that only people who follow religiously imposed rules of morality may reap the gifts of the state? Is a married person better than I am? Bump that, I'd rather take my second-class status and wear it as a crown than join the government's little popularity contest. Nothing changes if we all just go with the flow, you know.
No, I'm Not Bored
I just can't keep quiet today. The news gets more and more ridiculous every second. So, a majority of Americans support Bush on Iraq. But even more think that taking action in Iraq will result in that country attacking us with biological or chemical weapons. Is anyone seeing the logic here? Hey, I have an idea, let's avoid encouraging other countries to attack us, whaddya say?
One more thing: Did anyone notice there's a British Foreign Secretary named Jack Straw? One of my favorite Grateful Dead songs. What? I can like the Dead if I want.
I just can't keep quiet today. The news gets more and more ridiculous every second. So, a majority of Americans support Bush on Iraq. But even more think that taking action in Iraq will result in that country attacking us with biological or chemical weapons. Is anyone seeing the logic here? Hey, I have an idea, let's avoid encouraging other countries to attack us, whaddya say?
One more thing: Did anyone notice there's a British Foreign Secretary named Jack Straw? One of my favorite Grateful Dead songs. What? I can like the Dead if I want.
Maybe I'm Just Cynical...
Seems like everything I read this morning is triggering my "oh, really?" button.
"A National Research Council study in May concluded that simply passing laws or blocking computer access won't protect children from online pornography."
Come now, are we really "protecting" children from pornography? I mean, kids are either at the stage where they totally don't want to look at naked people or they totally do. In either case, seeing porn isn't like being kidnapped or drinking poison, which are things you "protect" children from. I think a more appropriate phrasing might be "...won't restrict children from seeing online pornography." Jeezum Crow, people, you'd think children didn't grow up to be adults.
Seems like everything I read this morning is triggering my "oh, really?" button.
"A National Research Council study in May concluded that simply passing laws or blocking computer access won't protect children from online pornography."
Come now, are we really "protecting" children from pornography? I mean, kids are either at the stage where they totally don't want to look at naked people or they totally do. In either case, seeing porn isn't like being kidnapped or drinking poison, which are things you "protect" children from. I think a more appropriate phrasing might be "...won't restrict children from seeing online pornography." Jeezum Crow, people, you'd think children didn't grow up to be adults.
Thank You, Captain Obvious
I know AP articles frequently end with an explanatory sentence about the story's main players, but did we really need to read the following?
"Gore lost the 2000 presidential election to George W. Bush after a contentious fight over voting problems in the close Florida contest."
Really? Thanks for reminding me. I was wondering who this "Gore" was.
I know AP articles frequently end with an explanatory sentence about the story's main players, but did we really need to read the following?
"Gore lost the 2000 presidential election to George W. Bush after a contentious fight over voting problems in the close Florida contest."
Really? Thanks for reminding me. I was wondering who this "Gore" was.
Friday, September 13, 2002
Political Musings
Pretend you have a big old stick. You have this stick to protect yourself against other people with sticks and also to steal lunch money from other, smaller people with smaller or no sticks. Another guy doesn't like the fact that you have a stick. He has two or three big sticks, and does pretty much the same things with them that you do with yours. However, he has decided that what you do with your stick is wrong, and you don't deserve to have it. Now, on his own, if he tried to take it from you, he could get hurt in the process. I mean, you still have a stick. And you pretty much hate this guy, because you think he's a dick. So, he gets a bunch of guys he knows, but who don't really like him that much to help him. They help him mostly because they are afraid of how many sticks he has, and that funny twitch he's got. All the guys get together, and as the first guy demands that you give him the stick, they mumble, "yeah, why don't you just do it, you know? Let's not have any trouble here. Just give him the stick and everything will be fine." Dude, if I were you, I'd get pissed off and take after all of them with my stick, no matter what the consequences. You could at least take down one or two of them with you. Who are those guys to tell you you can't have a stick? They aren't the boss of you. The preferable outcome would be for everyone to get rid of their sticks and attempt to solve their financial and personal differences through discussion, tolerance and sharing. Yeah, right!
Man, Florida is fucked up in the whole voting arena. Speaking of arenas, maybe Florida should just adopt a Thunderdome approach to deciding on their political leaders. I'd like to see a dual Thunderdome/Jeopardy! process to take the place of the secret ballot. Why the hell should we trust the idiot populace to pick our leaders for us. I like the idea of the strongest and the smartest. Who's gonna make fun of a US president that can whoop the ass of all the other candidates and can also converse intelligently with world leaders? That's right.
Memo to GW: It's pronounced noo-clee-er, not nuke-ya-ler. Sheesh.
Who doesn't love The 'Span? It's like the words coming from his mouth are gold buillion and not depreciating in value. Personally, I don't understand most of it, but whenever he speaks, it's like an edict from King Richard.
Pretend you have a big old stick. You have this stick to protect yourself against other people with sticks and also to steal lunch money from other, smaller people with smaller or no sticks. Another guy doesn't like the fact that you have a stick. He has two or three big sticks, and does pretty much the same things with them that you do with yours. However, he has decided that what you do with your stick is wrong, and you don't deserve to have it. Now, on his own, if he tried to take it from you, he could get hurt in the process. I mean, you still have a stick. And you pretty much hate this guy, because you think he's a dick. So, he gets a bunch of guys he knows, but who don't really like him that much to help him. They help him mostly because they are afraid of how many sticks he has, and that funny twitch he's got. All the guys get together, and as the first guy demands that you give him the stick, they mumble, "yeah, why don't you just do it, you know? Let's not have any trouble here. Just give him the stick and everything will be fine." Dude, if I were you, I'd get pissed off and take after all of them with my stick, no matter what the consequences. You could at least take down one or two of them with you. Who are those guys to tell you you can't have a stick? They aren't the boss of you. The preferable outcome would be for everyone to get rid of their sticks and attempt to solve their financial and personal differences through discussion, tolerance and sharing. Yeah, right!
Man, Florida is fucked up in the whole voting arena. Speaking of arenas, maybe Florida should just adopt a Thunderdome approach to deciding on their political leaders. I'd like to see a dual Thunderdome/Jeopardy! process to take the place of the secret ballot. Why the hell should we trust the idiot populace to pick our leaders for us. I like the idea of the strongest and the smartest. Who's gonna make fun of a US president that can whoop the ass of all the other candidates and can also converse intelligently with world leaders? That's right.
Memo to GW: It's pronounced noo-clee-er, not nuke-ya-ler. Sheesh.
Who doesn't love The 'Span? It's like the words coming from his mouth are gold buillion and not depreciating in value. Personally, I don't understand most of it, but whenever he speaks, it's like an edict from King Richard.
I Dream of... Lions?
Last night I had a long and involved dream which centered around the fact that there was another world that lies just under this one, and I don't mean underground, but under the surface. If you knew about it, you could make it real, or you could obscure it, by banging this special, carved stick that had three or so forks against the ground. The main feature of this world was big, very dark brown lions. They were sweet and nice, too, but they were constantly getting killed by all the cars in this world. There was a group of people, that I had just joined, who were on a mission to protect the lions. At one point, I was in a truck with one of the people in the group, and I was telling him what my favorite bands are. We even talked about seeing The Who. Interestingly enough, I dreamed my actual favorite bands, not some mumbo jumbo, as most things usually come out in dreams.
Someone else was dreaming today, but unfortunately, he was behind the wheel of a Town Car! As I was waiting for the light to change at 59th Street and Lexington Avenue, I saw him. The light was green, but he wasn't going anywhere. In fact, his eyes were closed and his head was thrown back. Drivers honked their horns, as they are wont to do at even the slightest hesitation, but he didn't move! A discussion sprang up on the corner about whether he might be dead. Thankfully, before anyone had to go knock on his window to assess the situation, he woke up. Was I ever relieved! I was absolutely sure he had croaked with his car in park. But then, I have a history of thinking sleeping people are dead. Usually there are drugs involved, though.
Last night I had a long and involved dream which centered around the fact that there was another world that lies just under this one, and I don't mean underground, but under the surface. If you knew about it, you could make it real, or you could obscure it, by banging this special, carved stick that had three or so forks against the ground. The main feature of this world was big, very dark brown lions. They were sweet and nice, too, but they were constantly getting killed by all the cars in this world. There was a group of people, that I had just joined, who were on a mission to protect the lions. At one point, I was in a truck with one of the people in the group, and I was telling him what my favorite bands are. We even talked about seeing The Who. Interestingly enough, I dreamed my actual favorite bands, not some mumbo jumbo, as most things usually come out in dreams.
Someone else was dreaming today, but unfortunately, he was behind the wheel of a Town Car! As I was waiting for the light to change at 59th Street and Lexington Avenue, I saw him. The light was green, but he wasn't going anywhere. In fact, his eyes were closed and his head was thrown back. Drivers honked their horns, as they are wont to do at even the slightest hesitation, but he didn't move! A discussion sprang up on the corner about whether he might be dead. Thankfully, before anyone had to go knock on his window to assess the situation, he woke up. Was I ever relieved! I was absolutely sure he had croaked with his car in park. But then, I have a history of thinking sleeping people are dead. Usually there are drugs involved, though.
Wednesday, September 11, 2002
Stupid, Mean People Speak Out
So, Salon ran some "forbidden" thoughts associated with the thing, and asked for people to write in more. I wrote in mine, because I had some pretty negative reactions to the way people treated the thing. For instance, I call it "the thing" rather than "the horrible tragedy of 9/11." Reading those comments today, I was struck by how many people lead such useless little lives that they were excited about the prospect of war. It's truly sad. To wit:
"As the second tower collapsed, I found myself with a terrible sense of satisfaction. It was almost like, somewhere deep in the parts of my soul that don't see the sun, I was rooting for the event to be even bigger -- for it to cut so deeply through the banality of daily life, that things would never be the same. I suspect I am not alone. Whether it's shark attacks, wars, school shootings or child abductions, something in human nature gives people a sick thrill in such horrific voyeurism. That's what drives the infotainment industry we like to call the nightly news. In the Civil War, spectators went out to watch the battle. Until fairly recently, watching public executions was regular entertainment for the masses. Few have the guts to admit it publicly, but we're all monsters."
That's just disturbing. I always knew that a lot of people are natural-born rubberneckers and cretins, otherwise there wouldn't be any WWF Smackdown. However, for this guy to believe that we all feel that way makes me sad that humans have absolutely no idea what goes on in each other's hearts. For the record, I don't get a thrill from seeing war or fire or death or car accidents or public executions. The majority of people in the US obviously enjoy watching dramatizations of events like that, otherwise there would be no need for Vin Diesel. However, that is a cathartic experience and in no way implies that it doesn't break my heart every time a person takes the life of his fellow human. Also, I'm thrilled to fucking death that my life isn't so "banal" that I need that kind of twisted interest in death and destruction just to realize I'm alive. The death of my mother affected me much more deeply than the thing, and probably more than any other event in my life. Ask people in war-torn nations (or even Ireland) if they get excited every time explosions, shrapnel and bloody death shake up their oh-so-dismal existence. I bet those folks are just itching for a little bit of your banality. In other words, shut up. Oh, one more thing. I hate it when people do this, but I just have to say, when I finally saw the collapse on television -- that would be hours after I was allowed to leave the basement of the Bank of New York, to which I fled when the first tower collapsed two blocks away from me -- I wasn't feeling any "terrible satisfaction." When I did door-to-door surveys of retailers in Lower Manhattan and they cried because they had lost everything -- clients, goods, money, property -- I didn't feel the thrill of voyeurism. And I know the truth about child abductions and shark attacks, asshole, which is why I don't watch the news. So, go crawl in your little hole and write on the chalkboard 8,000 times: "We're not all monsters."
So, Salon ran some "forbidden" thoughts associated with the thing, and asked for people to write in more. I wrote in mine, because I had some pretty negative reactions to the way people treated the thing. For instance, I call it "the thing" rather than "the horrible tragedy of 9/11." Reading those comments today, I was struck by how many people lead such useless little lives that they were excited about the prospect of war. It's truly sad. To wit:
"As the second tower collapsed, I found myself with a terrible sense of satisfaction. It was almost like, somewhere deep in the parts of my soul that don't see the sun, I was rooting for the event to be even bigger -- for it to cut so deeply through the banality of daily life, that things would never be the same. I suspect I am not alone. Whether it's shark attacks, wars, school shootings or child abductions, something in human nature gives people a sick thrill in such horrific voyeurism. That's what drives the infotainment industry we like to call the nightly news. In the Civil War, spectators went out to watch the battle. Until fairly recently, watching public executions was regular entertainment for the masses. Few have the guts to admit it publicly, but we're all monsters."
That's just disturbing. I always knew that a lot of people are natural-born rubberneckers and cretins, otherwise there wouldn't be any WWF Smackdown. However, for this guy to believe that we all feel that way makes me sad that humans have absolutely no idea what goes on in each other's hearts. For the record, I don't get a thrill from seeing war or fire or death or car accidents or public executions. The majority of people in the US obviously enjoy watching dramatizations of events like that, otherwise there would be no need for Vin Diesel. However, that is a cathartic experience and in no way implies that it doesn't break my heart every time a person takes the life of his fellow human. Also, I'm thrilled to fucking death that my life isn't so "banal" that I need that kind of twisted interest in death and destruction just to realize I'm alive. The death of my mother affected me much more deeply than the thing, and probably more than any other event in my life. Ask people in war-torn nations (or even Ireland) if they get excited every time explosions, shrapnel and bloody death shake up their oh-so-dismal existence. I bet those folks are just itching for a little bit of your banality. In other words, shut up. Oh, one more thing. I hate it when people do this, but I just have to say, when I finally saw the collapse on television -- that would be hours after I was allowed to leave the basement of the Bank of New York, to which I fled when the first tower collapsed two blocks away from me -- I wasn't feeling any "terrible satisfaction." When I did door-to-door surveys of retailers in Lower Manhattan and they cried because they had lost everything -- clients, goods, money, property -- I didn't feel the thrill of voyeurism. And I know the truth about child abductions and shark attacks, asshole, which is why I don't watch the news. So, go crawl in your little hole and write on the chalkboard 8,000 times: "We're not all monsters."
Tuesday, September 10, 2002
Holy Crap, Part Deux
I forgot about this comic strip, Get Your War On. It's so fabulously over the top. My ex-boyfriend totally loves this kind of stuff. It's the only thing I miss about him, because all my other friends are either non-political or too freaking sensitive. My favorite line today: "People laugh at me for keeping my money in a big tin bucket. Well you know what? A big tin bucket is not gonna fucking lie to me about its financial performance!"
Or: "Nothing could get me to suicide-bomb myself. I don't even know how to construct the fucking active verb form of that shit, it's so fucked!"
Finallay, someone who's even more disgusted with the state of the country than I am.
I forgot about this comic strip, Get Your War On. It's so fabulously over the top. My ex-boyfriend totally loves this kind of stuff. It's the only thing I miss about him, because all my other friends are either non-political or too freaking sensitive. My favorite line today: "People laugh at me for keeping my money in a big tin bucket. Well you know what? A big tin bucket is not gonna fucking lie to me about its financial performance!"
Or: "Nothing could get me to suicide-bomb myself. I don't even know how to construct the fucking active verb form of that shit, it's so fucked!"
Finallay, someone who's even more disgusted with the state of the country than I am.
Life Imitates The Practice
Ok, so a defense lawyer was thrown off a case for having sex with her client. What gets me is the double standard:
"The ABA said it has no national statistics on how many lawyers have been disciplined for having sex with their clients. Such trysts typically involve male lawyers and female clients who are going through a divorce -- not a 26-year-old, male triple-murder defendant and his married, 43-year-old counsel. 'You don't think about this and think, "Here's this poor vulnerable guy who got sucked into this relationship,"' said Boston University Law School ethics professor Nancy Moore, who lobbied the ABA to adopt the rule. 'But it still creates a conflict of interest that makes the lawyer less capable of exercising independent judgment.'"
So, when the lawyer is a man and the client is a woman, she's "poor," "vulnerable," and been "sucked into" having sex with her lawyer. Why don't I buy that? Jesus Christ, what century is this? Are they implying that women are incapable of being manipulative or sexual, and that they can't think for themselves? I can't imagine that every woman who sleeps with her divorce lawyer is so distraught and confused and is taking solace blah blah blah blah. Granted, it's always a bad idea to have an affair with anyone you employ, but give me a break.
Ok, so a defense lawyer was thrown off a case for having sex with her client. What gets me is the double standard:
"The ABA said it has no national statistics on how many lawyers have been disciplined for having sex with their clients. Such trysts typically involve male lawyers and female clients who are going through a divorce -- not a 26-year-old, male triple-murder defendant and his married, 43-year-old counsel. 'You don't think about this and think, "Here's this poor vulnerable guy who got sucked into this relationship,"' said Boston University Law School ethics professor Nancy Moore, who lobbied the ABA to adopt the rule. 'But it still creates a conflict of interest that makes the lawyer less capable of exercising independent judgment.'"
So, when the lawyer is a man and the client is a woman, she's "poor," "vulnerable," and been "sucked into" having sex with her lawyer. Why don't I buy that? Jesus Christ, what century is this? Are they implying that women are incapable of being manipulative or sexual, and that they can't think for themselves? I can't imagine that every woman who sleeps with her divorce lawyer is so distraught and confused and is taking solace blah blah blah blah. Granted, it's always a bad idea to have an affair with anyone you employ, but give me a break.
Monday, September 09, 2002
Hello, Monday
Just another day at the old salt mines. I so didn't make it out on Sunday night. While taking my second midday nap, I dreamed I was going, but when I woke up, sweaty and disoriented, tangled in my stripey duvet, at 9 pm, I realized I'd be staying in for the night.
So what are your plans for Wednesday? I'm going to be sitting with my fingers in my ears, chanting, "La la la la la la la" all day. I just want to be able to get through the day without having to recount my personal experience of 9/11/02 or listening to someone else do it. Just Say No to Reminiscence. Let's go somewhere and listen to rock 'n' roll music.
Latest Lesson Learned: If you plan on spending time in a hot tub, take it easy on the booze, or at least drink plenty of water as well. Oy, what a hangover.
Item! Kelly Clarkson won American Idol. Too bad she's under contract to record those two really sucky ballads. Maybe I'll try out for AI next year. I can be ridiculously over-the-top, and they'll have to show me in the first round audition episode. Then they show my clip in future shows, because no one can believe how nutty I was. It'll be like, "Can you believe that old chick sang 'Seventy-Six Trombones' while stripping? Kee-razy!"
Just another day at the old salt mines. I so didn't make it out on Sunday night. While taking my second midday nap, I dreamed I was going, but when I woke up, sweaty and disoriented, tangled in my stripey duvet, at 9 pm, I realized I'd be staying in for the night.
So what are your plans for Wednesday? I'm going to be sitting with my fingers in my ears, chanting, "La la la la la la la" all day. I just want to be able to get through the day without having to recount my personal experience of 9/11/02 or listening to someone else do it. Just Say No to Reminiscence. Let's go somewhere and listen to rock 'n' roll music.
Latest Lesson Learned: If you plan on spending time in a hot tub, take it easy on the booze, or at least drink plenty of water as well. Oy, what a hangover.
Item! Kelly Clarkson won American Idol. Too bad she's under contract to record those two really sucky ballads. Maybe I'll try out for AI next year. I can be ridiculously over-the-top, and they'll have to show me in the first round audition episode. Then they show my clip in future shows, because no one can believe how nutty I was. It'll be like, "Can you believe that old chick sang 'Seventy-Six Trombones' while stripping? Kee-razy!"
Friday, September 06, 2002
Wax On, Wax Off
Last night was my first karate class. I signed up for 100 classes at Tiger Schullman Karate. I take two classes a week, Monday and Thursday. By the end, I'll be a yellow belt in karate. How cool is that?
It was a lot of fun, and I can't believe how quickly an hour can go. I'm feeling the exercise today, but not debilitatingly so. I noticed a couple of things about myself that popped their little heads out as soon as class started. I'm a perfectionist, I'm competitive, and I crave approval from authority figures. I could see myself doing it, but I don't know any other way to be than to try to excel. It's weird. I took this perverse sense of pride in being able to stretch my leg higher than my partner. I am such a freak! Anyway, maybe taking a class and getting that stuff back out of me again will help motivate me in other parts of my life. I don't think it's a bad way to be. Those traits have gotten me where I am today. I just have to watch it so I don't alienate my fellow students. However, they seem to take it pretty seriously, too. I'm very excited about karate. Just taking any kind of class will help me with finding structure and discipline in my life, as well as the physical conditioning, and meeting new people. Yay, karate!
Last night was my first karate class. I signed up for 100 classes at Tiger Schullman Karate. I take two classes a week, Monday and Thursday. By the end, I'll be a yellow belt in karate. How cool is that?
It was a lot of fun, and I can't believe how quickly an hour can go. I'm feeling the exercise today, but not debilitatingly so. I noticed a couple of things about myself that popped their little heads out as soon as class started. I'm a perfectionist, I'm competitive, and I crave approval from authority figures. I could see myself doing it, but I don't know any other way to be than to try to excel. It's weird. I took this perverse sense of pride in being able to stretch my leg higher than my partner. I am such a freak! Anyway, maybe taking a class and getting that stuff back out of me again will help motivate me in other parts of my life. I don't think it's a bad way to be. Those traits have gotten me where I am today. I just have to watch it so I don't alienate my fellow students. However, they seem to take it pretty seriously, too. I'm very excited about karate. Just taking any kind of class will help me with finding structure and discipline in my life, as well as the physical conditioning, and meeting new people. Yay, karate!
No Tolerance Whatsoever
September 15, 2002, Zero Tolerance is presenting a party at Joe's Pub called "Fetish, Fashion, Sex & Power." What more could you ask for? Good music by DJ Adam and Gun Shy Hostess, some bondage thingie by the ubiquitous rope guy, a BDSM Performance by Leda & Arena Blaze Productions, Go-Go by Gene & Polly Peabody and free giveaways. Zero Tolerance is Madame Cole de Sade, Mistress Alana, Domina Skye, and Mistress Tamara Blu. These are fun, creative people which means that this party isn't just another vinyl clad fang-fest. Joe's Pub is located at 425 Lafayette between AstorPlace and 4th Street, NYC. Doors open at 11 pm and admission is $15. The only difficulty is is Sunday-ness. Come on, ladies! Bring on the Friday/Saturday night events!
This Sunday I'll be making another uncommon Sabbath excursion to The Baroness's Fetish Retinue at Alphabet City, Avenue C & 7th Street, NYC. It opens at 8, which will aid me a bit in my mission to sleep for an hour or so before work on Monday. I've never been to one of these shindigs before, but I can't resist the "back to school" theme. I'm not sure at what point I adopted the schoolgirl look, but I'm milking it for all it's worth before I get too old to pull it off! Admission is $5 if dressed fetish, $15 if in street clothes. It will be the icing on a full weekend. Currently, I have invitations to two parties tomorrow night. One is in Spanish Harlem and involves packs of kiki gay boys. The other is in Jersey and involves a hot tub. Decisions, decisions. I wonder if I can squeeze in both?
September 15, 2002, Zero Tolerance is presenting a party at Joe's Pub called "Fetish, Fashion, Sex & Power." What more could you ask for? Good music by DJ Adam and Gun Shy Hostess, some bondage thingie by the ubiquitous rope guy, a BDSM Performance by Leda & Arena Blaze Productions, Go-Go by Gene & Polly Peabody and free giveaways. Zero Tolerance is Madame Cole de Sade, Mistress Alana, Domina Skye, and Mistress Tamara Blu. These are fun, creative people which means that this party isn't just another vinyl clad fang-fest. Joe's Pub is located at 425 Lafayette between AstorPlace and 4th Street, NYC. Doors open at 11 pm and admission is $15. The only difficulty is is Sunday-ness. Come on, ladies! Bring on the Friday/Saturday night events!
This Sunday I'll be making another uncommon Sabbath excursion to The Baroness's Fetish Retinue at Alphabet City, Avenue C & 7th Street, NYC. It opens at 8, which will aid me a bit in my mission to sleep for an hour or so before work on Monday. I've never been to one of these shindigs before, but I can't resist the "back to school" theme. I'm not sure at what point I adopted the schoolgirl look, but I'm milking it for all it's worth before I get too old to pull it off! Admission is $5 if dressed fetish, $15 if in street clothes. It will be the icing on a full weekend. Currently, I have invitations to two parties tomorrow night. One is in Spanish Harlem and involves packs of kiki gay boys. The other is in Jersey and involves a hot tub. Decisions, decisions. I wonder if I can squeeze in both?
Thursday, September 05, 2002
Mashed Banana Sunlight
I'm finally reading Skinny Legs and All, Tom Robbins' fifth book. It's funny, how I unknowingly pick up old books that are suddenly salient. Last September, I borrowed Caleb Carr's Killing Time. Apart from being just wretched, one of the main plot points was terrorism from Afghanistan directed toward America. Spooky, I tells ya. This Tom Robbins book is focused on the feuding between the Israelis and the Palestinians. Of course, that hardly ever stops, but I think it may be at a similar high point now as to what it was in 1990. Leave it to Robbins, however to discuss the Arab/Jew conflict by using the story of Jezebel, five inanimate objects, an artist with crazy hair, a welder with a crazy heart, a boil-ridden southern preacher, an almost-inanimate street performer, and a restaurant run by a Jewish shoe-fetishist and a red-nosed Arabic dishwasher. Every time I read one of his books, life gets a little easier. My common stresses seem insignificant. I want to burn incense and meditate and run through fields in flowing skirts and ride the subway from end to end, talking to people. I want to take time to think, really think, which I never seem to do. All I do is repeat certain phrases over and over to myself. What those phrases are is none of your business, but you know them. I'll bet you do it, too.
If you've never read Robbins, I recommend it. I've never read anyone like him. Start at the beginning, or don't. I don't guess it matters how you read him. He wouldn't think so. The books: Another Roadside Attraction, Even Cowgirls Get the Blues, Still Life With Woodpecker, Jitterbug Perfume, Half Asleep in Frog Pajamas, Fierce Invalids Return from Hot Climates. And the aforementioned. Look, anyone who can describe a clitoris as a "a live bee. A bee trapped, tiny wings awhir, in a puddle of molasses," then go on to discuss the biblical and historical background of the issue of the Third Temple, is okay by me.
I'm finally reading Skinny Legs and All, Tom Robbins' fifth book. It's funny, how I unknowingly pick up old books that are suddenly salient. Last September, I borrowed Caleb Carr's Killing Time. Apart from being just wretched, one of the main plot points was terrorism from Afghanistan directed toward America. Spooky, I tells ya. This Tom Robbins book is focused on the feuding between the Israelis and the Palestinians. Of course, that hardly ever stops, but I think it may be at a similar high point now as to what it was in 1990. Leave it to Robbins, however to discuss the Arab/Jew conflict by using the story of Jezebel, five inanimate objects, an artist with crazy hair, a welder with a crazy heart, a boil-ridden southern preacher, an almost-inanimate street performer, and a restaurant run by a Jewish shoe-fetishist and a red-nosed Arabic dishwasher. Every time I read one of his books, life gets a little easier. My common stresses seem insignificant. I want to burn incense and meditate and run through fields in flowing skirts and ride the subway from end to end, talking to people. I want to take time to think, really think, which I never seem to do. All I do is repeat certain phrases over and over to myself. What those phrases are is none of your business, but you know them. I'll bet you do it, too.
If you've never read Robbins, I recommend it. I've never read anyone like him. Start at the beginning, or don't. I don't guess it matters how you read him. He wouldn't think so. The books: Another Roadside Attraction, Even Cowgirls Get the Blues, Still Life With Woodpecker, Jitterbug Perfume, Half Asleep in Frog Pajamas, Fierce Invalids Return from Hot Climates. And the aforementioned. Look, anyone who can describe a clitoris as a "a live bee. A bee trapped, tiny wings awhir, in a puddle of molasses," then go on to discuss the biblical and historical background of the issue of the Third Temple, is okay by me.
This Is Not A Joke
What has happened to AIDS awareness? New drugs make it possible to live longer with AIDS, but they don't prevent the transmission of HIV, which is still going on, every day. I'm talking about America, here. The situation in Africa is too different from ours for me to comment on here (not that I won't later). Even though the case of a man contracting a second HIV infection is in Brazil, I've heard of this behavior here. What behavior, you ask? Unprotected sex with anonymous partners. Wow. It boggles my mind that in 2002, people can be so stupid. I can see how he thought that since he was in a vaccine trial (to boost his immune system) that he might be protected from HIV. Yeah, I can see that, if he's the village idiot. How does he know he's not getting a placebo? Who's to say the vaccine has any effects at all? I'm just ranting here because, even though his carelessness has shown that it's possible to be infected with more than one strain of HIV, no one is going to listen to the recommendations that come from this discovery. Even HIV+ partners need to use condoms. And why should they listen to it? It's so depressing. The whole thing is so depressing. But see, the thing is, that if all condoms all the time becomes the norm, we have a better chance of protecting the young from AIDS. I don't know if I'm making any sense here, all I know is I don't want to see any more of my friends get this thing. I don't want to get it. I don't want people to brush it off for a couple of years then see a backlash of kids getting infected. Now, I understand how environmental awareness was popular in 1990 with the twentieth anniversary of Earth Day, then diminished over time as it went out of fashion. That's not cool, because the earth still needs some saving. But AIDS awareness is not a fashion statement. It's about saving our lives, here. It's about educating people on how not to contract a totally preventable disease. Stop barebacking and lying about it. It's that simple. And I am through.
What has happened to AIDS awareness? New drugs make it possible to live longer with AIDS, but they don't prevent the transmission of HIV, which is still going on, every day. I'm talking about America, here. The situation in Africa is too different from ours for me to comment on here (not that I won't later). Even though the case of a man contracting a second HIV infection is in Brazil, I've heard of this behavior here. What behavior, you ask? Unprotected sex with anonymous partners. Wow. It boggles my mind that in 2002, people can be so stupid. I can see how he thought that since he was in a vaccine trial (to boost his immune system) that he might be protected from HIV. Yeah, I can see that, if he's the village idiot. How does he know he's not getting a placebo? Who's to say the vaccine has any effects at all? I'm just ranting here because, even though his carelessness has shown that it's possible to be infected with more than one strain of HIV, no one is going to listen to the recommendations that come from this discovery. Even HIV+ partners need to use condoms. And why should they listen to it? It's so depressing. The whole thing is so depressing. But see, the thing is, that if all condoms all the time becomes the norm, we have a better chance of protecting the young from AIDS. I don't know if I'm making any sense here, all I know is I don't want to see any more of my friends get this thing. I don't want to get it. I don't want people to brush it off for a couple of years then see a backlash of kids getting infected. Now, I understand how environmental awareness was popular in 1990 with the twentieth anniversary of Earth Day, then diminished over time as it went out of fashion. That's not cool, because the earth still needs some saving. But AIDS awareness is not a fashion statement. It's about saving our lives, here. It's about educating people on how not to contract a totally preventable disease. Stop barebacking and lying about it. It's that simple. And I am through.
Wednesday, September 04, 2002
Entertainment News!
Sarah Michelle Gellar and Freddie Prinze, Jr. got married. That's so sweet. I'm happy for them! No, really. I am. For SMG, the girl with no father, to get married... it's like an achievement. He must be a pretty nice guy. I wonder what it's like to have a comma in your name?
Lance Bass is not going to space. The money never showed up, so in his place, they are sending a container. That's right. "[Spokesman for the Russian Space Agency] Gorbunov said the container has already been prepared and is ready to go." I'm so happy for the container. This has been a very emotional entertainment day for me.
Sarah Michelle Gellar and Freddie Prinze, Jr. got married. That's so sweet. I'm happy for them! No, really. I am. For SMG, the girl with no father, to get married... it's like an achievement. He must be a pretty nice guy. I wonder what it's like to have a comma in your name?
Lance Bass is not going to space. The money never showed up, so in his place, they are sending a container. That's right. "[Spokesman for the Russian Space Agency] Gorbunov said the container has already been prepared and is ready to go." I'm so happy for the container. This has been a very emotional entertainment day for me.
Protecting the Stupid is a Full-Time Job
"The 56-year-old man said he weighed 272 pounds, had heart attacks in 1996 and 1999 and has diabetes, high blood pressure and high cholesterol. He said he ate fast food for decades, believing it was good for him until his doctor cautioned him otherwise."
If this case isn't thrown right out of court, I will have lost all faith in the civil judicial system. I mean, even if you didn't know that red meat and fried foods can make you fat, wouldn't you notice that you were getting fat? Doy.
In other news, I'll be performing tonight. It's pretty strange. I don't know how I got into this, but I'll be singing "Officer Krupke" from West Side Story at a fetish club. I'm a little worried about how it will come off, even if I manage to sing it well. It gets very high at the end. But I didn't want to let my friend down once I agreed to do it. Oh well, it's just 4 minutes of my life, then I can go home. If you're interested, the club is Gomorrah, at Opaline, Avenue A between 5th and 6th Streets. It opens at 9, but I'm not going on until 11:45. Admission is on a sliding scale, so the freakier you are, the better.
There was something else I wanted to post, but I can't remember it right now.
"The 56-year-old man said he weighed 272 pounds, had heart attacks in 1996 and 1999 and has diabetes, high blood pressure and high cholesterol. He said he ate fast food for decades, believing it was good for him until his doctor cautioned him otherwise."
If this case isn't thrown right out of court, I will have lost all faith in the civil judicial system. I mean, even if you didn't know that red meat and fried foods can make you fat, wouldn't you notice that you were getting fat? Doy.
In other news, I'll be performing tonight. It's pretty strange. I don't know how I got into this, but I'll be singing "Officer Krupke" from West Side Story at a fetish club. I'm a little worried about how it will come off, even if I manage to sing it well. It gets very high at the end. But I didn't want to let my friend down once I agreed to do it. Oh well, it's just 4 minutes of my life, then I can go home. If you're interested, the club is Gomorrah, at Opaline, Avenue A between 5th and 6th Streets. It opens at 9, but I'm not going on until 11:45. Admission is on a sliding scale, so the freakier you are, the better.
There was something else I wanted to post, but I can't remember it right now.
Tuesday, September 03, 2002
Save Our Show!
I saw I'm Not Rappaport last Sunday, a Broadway show starring Judd Hirsch (Taxi, Dear John) and Ben Vereen (Pippin, Fosse). It was an excellent performance, and I strongly recommend it. For more information on how to get tickets for Broadway, go to Everything central. Without your support, great shows like this are being forced to go dark. Help keep Broadway alive, including those lesser-publicized straight plays. It's not all about singing and dancing, you know!
I saw I'm Not Rappaport last Sunday, a Broadway show starring Judd Hirsch (Taxi, Dear John) and Ben Vereen (Pippin, Fosse). It was an excellent performance, and I strongly recommend it. For more information on how to get tickets for Broadway, go to Everything central. Without your support, great shows like this are being forced to go dark. Help keep Broadway alive, including those lesser-publicized straight plays. It's not all about singing and dancing, you know!
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