Ahoy, hoy!
Check me out: I've been working all morning, which has kept me from the blog. How I love the end of the month, what with the billing and all. A nice, monthly task that requires organization and patience. Too bad it doesn't take very long. Then I have to convince colonial dames to clean up after themselves.
Anyway, to the topic. Telephones! I asked Verizon to turn off my land line service, and they complied without comment. It was great. They're even leaving a change of phone number message for me. It's hard to believe that a year ago I didn't even own a cellular phone, and now I'm going strictly wireless. I have a tendency to fiercely resist new technology, until I try it and then embrace it fondly, stroking technology's shiny hair and murmuring sweet nothings into its ear. It happened with the Internet, the PDA, and now the mobile phone. I'm still not crazy about CDs, but I don't openly disparage them anymore.
The second telephone issue: I have an old phone in my junk drawer, and Verizon told me I might as well give it to charity as its technology (it's not quite a year old, remember) is obsolete. So, I found this site, and I'm going to donate my old cell phone to help victims of domestic abuse. Hmm, there has to be a better term. I hate the term "victim" applied to someone who is obviously removing herself from a dangerous situation. How about, "survivor"? Nah, that conjures images of Jeff Probst menacing a woman with grubs. Well, whatever. I guess if I was in the situation myself I could come up with a better term, which begs the question, who's doing the marketing for these organizations? Maybe "victim" really is the preferred term. Okay, victims, I'm giving you my phone. Duck!
Friday, February 28, 2003
Thursday, February 27, 2003
There Is a God
Unless Sarah Michelle Gellar is a big old liar (and she's had to retract similar statements in the past), this wretched excuse for a season of Buffy the Vampire Slayer is the final one. The only thing that sends a shiver of fear up my spine is the use of the word "spin-off." What a bad, bad, bad idea. Angel is working. It was a little shaky there last year, but it's been much stronger this season than Buffy. Trying to create a non-SMG, non-Boreanaz Buffy spin-off is just a disaster waiting to happen. What are we looking for here? Dawn the Vampire-Dater? Willow the Poorly Drawn Lesbian Stereotype? Xander the Construction Foreman? Where's Giles? The Scooby Gang? Spike: The Other Vampire with a Soul? It's just stupid. Hear me now, Joss Whedon: Break free from the evil clutches of Marti Noxon and quit while you're not too far behind. Sure, you've got crazy cult fans, but as soon as Buffy left the WB it was all over. Spend time on Angel. Craft it. Make it Emmy-worthy. Show those punks at NBC that it's not the network that makes the art, but the all-powerful executive producer and creator. Make me proud, Joss!
Unless Sarah Michelle Gellar is a big old liar (and she's had to retract similar statements in the past), this wretched excuse for a season of Buffy the Vampire Slayer is the final one. The only thing that sends a shiver of fear up my spine is the use of the word "spin-off." What a bad, bad, bad idea. Angel is working. It was a little shaky there last year, but it's been much stronger this season than Buffy. Trying to create a non-SMG, non-Boreanaz Buffy spin-off is just a disaster waiting to happen. What are we looking for here? Dawn the Vampire-Dater? Willow the Poorly Drawn Lesbian Stereotype? Xander the Construction Foreman? Where's Giles? The Scooby Gang? Spike: The Other Vampire with a Soul? It's just stupid. Hear me now, Joss Whedon: Break free from the evil clutches of Marti Noxon and quit while you're not too far behind. Sure, you've got crazy cult fans, but as soon as Buffy left the WB it was all over. Spend time on Angel. Craft it. Make it Emmy-worthy. Show those punks at NBC that it's not the network that makes the art, but the all-powerful executive producer and creator. Make me proud, Joss!
More Ground Zero Nonsense
So, a committee made up of the Lower Manhattan Development Corporation (LMDC), the Port Authority, the governor and the mayor have chosen a plan for what will be built on the site of the former World Trade Center. Yippee. I sure feel sad for Larry Silverstein, who held the lease on the World Trade Center. He gets no say. He just signed that 99 year lease right before the attack, too. How depressing.
This whole process of listening to the public and the victim's families and everyone who has a mouth has been a great big train wreck. This plan is really ugly. It includes a bunch of angular buildings that will clash big time with the aesthetic of Lower Manhattan (a German architect? sheesh), the tallest spire in the world (*cough*phallic symbol*cough*), and a wall exposed in the process of debris removal (for the cult of grief). Pretty gross. There's also a plan to put a bus depot in, and part of it actually touches the oh-so hallowed land in which some people unfamiliar with the concept of physics think their loved ones are still buried. I've got a news flash for them; the ashes of their loved ones got taken out with the rest of the rubble. I'm not happy that anyone lost a family member or friend in the attack, but these people on television act like they are the first people to have ever lost someone, either in an act of war or otherwise. Their insistence that everyone prioritize their personal grief over the common good is completely irrational. At this point, I couldn't care less about your husband, lady. Leaving that much land undeveloped will cripple the economy of Lower Manhattan, and I don't think your inability to get past your husband's death is worth that. While you're thinking about that, check some land records and find out if your house -- which is in the most densely developed are in the US -- is built on land that was once an Indian burial ground or a colonial graveyard. Yeah, that's what I thought.
So, a committee made up of the Lower Manhattan Development Corporation (LMDC), the Port Authority, the governor and the mayor have chosen a plan for what will be built on the site of the former World Trade Center. Yippee. I sure feel sad for Larry Silverstein, who held the lease on the World Trade Center. He gets no say. He just signed that 99 year lease right before the attack, too. How depressing.
This whole process of listening to the public and the victim's families and everyone who has a mouth has been a great big train wreck. This plan is really ugly. It includes a bunch of angular buildings that will clash big time with the aesthetic of Lower Manhattan (a German architect? sheesh), the tallest spire in the world (*cough*phallic symbol*cough*), and a wall exposed in the process of debris removal (for the cult of grief). Pretty gross. There's also a plan to put a bus depot in, and part of it actually touches the oh-so hallowed land in which some people unfamiliar with the concept of physics think their loved ones are still buried. I've got a news flash for them; the ashes of their loved ones got taken out with the rest of the rubble. I'm not happy that anyone lost a family member or friend in the attack, but these people on television act like they are the first people to have ever lost someone, either in an act of war or otherwise. Their insistence that everyone prioritize their personal grief over the common good is completely irrational. At this point, I couldn't care less about your husband, lady. Leaving that much land undeveloped will cripple the economy of Lower Manhattan, and I don't think your inability to get past your husband's death is worth that. While you're thinking about that, check some land records and find out if your house -- which is in the most densely developed are in the US -- is built on land that was once an Indian burial ground or a colonial graveyard. Yeah, that's what I thought.
Cough Syrup Crackdown
Obviously the FDA doesn't have much going on. They're pulling cough syrups until they test an ingredient that has been used for decades, with no extraordinary ill-effects, recommended by physicians as the best way to treat a productive cough, just so they can be the ones to say that it works. I don't take a lot of medicines, but I love guaifenesin (they're only pulling the one-dose-a-day kind, not the multi-dose sort). I learned a handy way to remember which cough medicine to take for which kind of cough. The other kind has an active ingredient that starts with a "d," but I can't remember what it is. Anyway, you think, "g for gunk" and "d for dry" to determine which cough syrup to buy. It's genius.
Oh, yeah, the FDA seems to be doing the equivalent of a secretary sorting through her files from 1998 because she doesn't have anything else to do. I think the FDA should take up blogging if it wants to kill some time. The worst part is that this process takes money away from the other 66 companies currently producing one-dose guaifenesin products. This seems like some sort of favoritism for Adams Laboratories. It makes me so mad. I hate the FDA.
Obviously the FDA doesn't have much going on. They're pulling cough syrups until they test an ingredient that has been used for decades, with no extraordinary ill-effects, recommended by physicians as the best way to treat a productive cough, just so they can be the ones to say that it works. I don't take a lot of medicines, but I love guaifenesin (they're only pulling the one-dose-a-day kind, not the multi-dose sort). I learned a handy way to remember which cough medicine to take for which kind of cough. The other kind has an active ingredient that starts with a "d," but I can't remember what it is. Anyway, you think, "g for gunk" and "d for dry" to determine which cough syrup to buy. It's genius.
Oh, yeah, the FDA seems to be doing the equivalent of a secretary sorting through her files from 1998 because she doesn't have anything else to do. I think the FDA should take up blogging if it wants to kill some time. The worst part is that this process takes money away from the other 66 companies currently producing one-dose guaifenesin products. This seems like some sort of favoritism for Adams Laboratories. It makes me so mad. I hate the FDA.
Revert to Defcon 3
Well, I'm certainly relieved to know that due to "unspecified intelligence," we are probably more safe from a possible terrorist attack now that the hajj period is over. I'm glad anecdotal evidence proved to be incorrect about the threat of a somewhat imminent attack on U.S. soil, and that now the threat is somewhat less imminent. Come on, does anyone else think this is just stupid?
Well, I'm certainly relieved to know that due to "unspecified intelligence," we are probably more safe from a possible terrorist attack now that the hajj period is over. I'm glad anecdotal evidence proved to be incorrect about the threat of a somewhat imminent attack on U.S. soil, and that now the threat is somewhat less imminent. Come on, does anyone else think this is just stupid?
Goodbye, Good Neighbor
Fred Rogers died this morning. He only knew he had cancer for a couple of months. My sister always says nasty things about Mr. Rogers, but I think he was really cool. He taught his young viewers to be creative and caring, and he was a great role-model for equality and tolerance. Sure, he was more square than Sesame Street, but watching the two shows now, Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood is much calmer and more even than the manic, ADD-influenced animation and Muppets. Plus, Mr. Rogers had cool fish and a train in his house, and a movie screen in his living room. I'll miss Mr. Rogers. He was a good neighbor.
"It's such a good feeling, to know you're alive, such a happy feeling..."
Fred Rogers died this morning. He only knew he had cancer for a couple of months. My sister always says nasty things about Mr. Rogers, but I think he was really cool. He taught his young viewers to be creative and caring, and he was a great role-model for equality and tolerance. Sure, he was more square than Sesame Street, but watching the two shows now, Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood is much calmer and more even than the manic, ADD-influenced animation and Muppets. Plus, Mr. Rogers had cool fish and a train in his house, and a movie screen in his living room. I'll miss Mr. Rogers. He was a good neighbor.
"It's such a good feeling, to know you're alive, such a happy feeling..."
Wednesday, February 26, 2003
Earworms... Don't Break Out The Duct Tape
I had a weird episode of having a song stuck in my head the other day. It wasn't just one song, but several songs with similar elements. It went from "And I am Telling You I'm Not Going" to "I am Changing," both from Dreamgirls, to "I Have Nothing" by Whitney Houston, to "Love Will Lead You Back" by Taylor Dayne. It was weird. It was like a loop where one part of one song just becomes part of the other song, I couldn't separate them, or get past the point of the loop. It was very disturbing. Maybe if I knew how those Dreamgirls songs went all the way through...
I had a weird episode of having a song stuck in my head the other day. It wasn't just one song, but several songs with similar elements. It went from "And I am Telling You I'm Not Going" to "I am Changing," both from Dreamgirls, to "I Have Nothing" by Whitney Houston, to "Love Will Lead You Back" by Taylor Dayne. It was weird. It was like a loop where one part of one song just becomes part of the other song, I couldn't separate them, or get past the point of the loop. It was very disturbing. Maybe if I knew how those Dreamgirls songs went all the way through...
Onion Shout Outs
Oh yeah, I'll take 'em as shout outs. First, they use the name Henke in a story, then they mention The University of Tennessee. The best thing about a good shout out is that I know people who read The Onion and know me will notice that. And you thought reading your favorite online newspaper was a safe space. Bwahahahaha! You'll never be free of me! I am omnipresent!
Oh yeah, I'll take 'em as shout outs. First, they use the name Henke in a story, then they mention The University of Tennessee. The best thing about a good shout out is that I know people who read The Onion and know me will notice that. And you thought reading your favorite online newspaper was a safe space. Bwahahahaha! You'll never be free of me! I am omnipresent!
Bitches Love Me
I saw Mindless Self Indulgence last night at Irving Plaza. For the record, I saw one of their first shows, when they had one fewer member, different names, and just as much energy, back in 1998 at Click + Drag (Mother). I was thanked on the liner notes of their first two CDs. In the early days, I used to stand right in front of the stage with the three other people who liked them, and I'd often get spit on or hit with some flying object. I loved it. Now, the average fan is too young to drive, and they pack themselves like sardines, pressing and surging against the stage, like a sea of adolescence with funny colored hair. They jump up and down in unison, and scream the lyrics (those they can understand) to every song. I didn't hear as many insults (You suck! I fucked your mom! Learn to sing, faggot!) as we used to sling in the lden days, but I was upstairs in the "grownup" section. My friend and I weren't interested in standing shoulder to shoudler with those fabulous hormone-racked, acne-riddled balls of energy, but we were still into enjoying the show. We stood on chairs to see the left sideof the stage and peeked at the monitors to catch the drummer and bass player.
A lot of people upstairs seemed to be there to observe or to wait for their kids (the only bar pen was upstairs, and no booze could go downstairs, pretty smart), but Lola and I yelled the lyrics, yelled at the band, and shook our booties to the ground. A couple of times I caught the woman in front of me throwing me a look, but I didn't care. I had forgotten how much I enjoyed their music. When they played such gems as "Dickface" and "Panty Shot," I hooted and howled and almost fell off my chair (we were all surprised I didn't fall, considering my history). The show itself was your standard MSI fare: Steve (Steve Righ?) jumped into the audience and crowd surfed while playing, James (Jimmy Urine) climbed up the balcony and sang while running through the crowd and having his clothes rended by adoring fans, instruments were destroyed at the end of the set. The surprising thing was that James stayed around to sign autographs for quite some time after the show was over. In the past, I've always seen the band run out of the building at the end of a show. Maybe they have less fear of their fans now.
The key points of this story to remember: I drank beer. Although I am old, I can still shake it. A big group of teenagers is an awesome spectacle. Bands who sing filthy, unintelligible lyrics are my favorites. Never wait in line when you can drink beer in a pool hall next door until the line is gone and still get a good spot in the grownup section.
I saw Mindless Self Indulgence last night at Irving Plaza. For the record, I saw one of their first shows, when they had one fewer member, different names, and just as much energy, back in 1998 at Click + Drag (Mother). I was thanked on the liner notes of their first two CDs. In the early days, I used to stand right in front of the stage with the three other people who liked them, and I'd often get spit on or hit with some flying object. I loved it. Now, the average fan is too young to drive, and they pack themselves like sardines, pressing and surging against the stage, like a sea of adolescence with funny colored hair. They jump up and down in unison, and scream the lyrics (those they can understand) to every song. I didn't hear as many insults (You suck! I fucked your mom! Learn to sing, faggot!) as we used to sling in the lden days, but I was upstairs in the "grownup" section. My friend and I weren't interested in standing shoulder to shoudler with those fabulous hormone-racked, acne-riddled balls of energy, but we were still into enjoying the show. We stood on chairs to see the left sideof the stage and peeked at the monitors to catch the drummer and bass player.
A lot of people upstairs seemed to be there to observe or to wait for their kids (the only bar pen was upstairs, and no booze could go downstairs, pretty smart), but Lola and I yelled the lyrics, yelled at the band, and shook our booties to the ground. A couple of times I caught the woman in front of me throwing me a look, but I didn't care. I had forgotten how much I enjoyed their music. When they played such gems as "Dickface" and "Panty Shot," I hooted and howled and almost fell off my chair (we were all surprised I didn't fall, considering my history). The show itself was your standard MSI fare: Steve (Steve Righ?) jumped into the audience and crowd surfed while playing, James (Jimmy Urine) climbed up the balcony and sang while running through the crowd and having his clothes rended by adoring fans, instruments were destroyed at the end of the set. The surprising thing was that James stayed around to sign autographs for quite some time after the show was over. In the past, I've always seen the band run out of the building at the end of a show. Maybe they have less fear of their fans now.
The key points of this story to remember: I drank beer. Although I am old, I can still shake it. A big group of teenagers is an awesome spectacle. Bands who sing filthy, unintelligible lyrics are my favorites. Never wait in line when you can drink beer in a pool hall next door until the line is gone and still get a good spot in the grownup section.
Better Blogging Bureau
Gosh, I know I've been posting some garbage lately, but I promise to mend my ways!
For instance, I was watching the Caroline Rhea show last night, er, early this morning, and Laura Linney was on. I vaguely remember her from The Truman Show, but I haven't seen her in anything else, so I had pretty much neutral feelings about her. I was just flipping around, eating pizza, getting ready to pass out ( I drank beer last night!), so I wasn't being much of a discriminating TV watcher. Caroline talks about what a great actress Linney is, and starts showing stills from her movies. First, her with Matthew Broderick in You Can Count On Me. What does she say? "He's a great kisser." Her with Liam Neeson in The Crucible on Broadway. "He's in the best shape of his life." Her with Richard Gere in Primal Fear. "I've done two movies with him and I've never gotten to kiss him." Her with Jim Carrey in Truman. "One thing you never notice about Jim Carrey is how handsome he is." And Caroline Rhea is just egging her on, being all giggly about the cute leading men; I mean, come on! Gag me with a spoon. Way to set women actors back about 100 years. In a year when women have had amazing roles in movies (The Hours, Chicago, Secretary), do we really need some supposedly serious actress sitting on a chat show gossiping about boys? What load of horseshit. I hope she sees the show and is embarrassed for acting like such an ass. Also, way to denegrate your fellow actors by treating them like pieces of meat. Slag.
Gosh, I know I've been posting some garbage lately, but I promise to mend my ways!
For instance, I was watching the Caroline Rhea show last night, er, early this morning, and Laura Linney was on. I vaguely remember her from The Truman Show, but I haven't seen her in anything else, so I had pretty much neutral feelings about her. I was just flipping around, eating pizza, getting ready to pass out ( I drank beer last night!), so I wasn't being much of a discriminating TV watcher. Caroline talks about what a great actress Linney is, and starts showing stills from her movies. First, her with Matthew Broderick in You Can Count On Me. What does she say? "He's a great kisser." Her with Liam Neeson in The Crucible on Broadway. "He's in the best shape of his life." Her with Richard Gere in Primal Fear. "I've done two movies with him and I've never gotten to kiss him." Her with Jim Carrey in Truman. "One thing you never notice about Jim Carrey is how handsome he is." And Caroline Rhea is just egging her on, being all giggly about the cute leading men; I mean, come on! Gag me with a spoon. Way to set women actors back about 100 years. In a year when women have had amazing roles in movies (The Hours, Chicago, Secretary), do we really need some supposedly serious actress sitting on a chat show gossiping about boys? What load of horseshit. I hope she sees the show and is embarrassed for acting like such an ass. Also, way to denegrate your fellow actors by treating them like pieces of meat. Slag.
Tuesday, February 25, 2003
Alexia's Ark
Did you miss me yesterday? Well, I was at home, suffering through daytime television and afraid to take a shower. It's a long story.
And it goes something like this. Saturday afternoon, I came home to find my front door mat all squishy and water slowly moving across the floor. It was coming from my storage closet, which also houses the gas and electric meters and the breaker boxes. I freaked out. The first thing I did was roll up my rug and stash it in the corner. Thankfully, it hadn't been hit. But I could see the water flowing. I opened up the storage closet door and freaked out some more. All my stuff is stored in cardboard boxes, because I am a genius. I called the landlord, who acted like he couldn't understand what I was trying to tell him. In his defense, I was freaking out. Totally useless. His daughter-in-law came over and took control of the situation, while I helplessly wandered around, picking up clutter. I pulled almost everything out of the closet and we found the source of the water.
Water was pouring out of a silver box in the wall, which ended up being the conduit box for the electricity. That means that wires from the street go through a big pipe into this box, then into the rest of the building. So, see, water was coming through from the storm drains (because rain + snow = flooding), through a break in the ConEd pipes, into my apartment. At a steady rate. Firemen were called. For some reason, five of them, with axes and things, came stomping and splashing into my living room, while I attempted to push water away from my couch. Go, linoleum! They turned off our power and called ConEd. Then everyone else called ConEd some more. Then the landlord's daughter-in-law showed more ingenuity than I could have possibly mustered at the time. She had her young son fetch two buckets, unscrewed the broom handle from the broom, and used it and the towels to mop up the floor while her son started the process of catching the water and dumping it. When they left, I had a dry and somewhat clean floor, most of the room had been moved into the kitchen, and I was left alone to empty the buckets.
The good news is that the distance from the storage closet to the storm drain right outside my front door is only about ten feet, but the bad news is that while it rained, and for two hours after, the rate of filling the buckets was one every four minutes. When it finally stopped around 7 pm, I was ecstatic. I lit a bunch of candles, ordered dinner, read by candlelight, then took a nap until about 10. ConEd hadn't shown, but I thought they might, so I stayed up. Good thing, too, because around 1 am, it started again. It was pouring outside, and it didn't let up for hours. The last few drips came in around 7 am. I figure that I emptied those buckets about 90 times, that round. My back hurt so much. Every time I got up to change the bucket, I would think, "I can't do this anymore, I'm losing my mind." As I got more and more tired, the candlelight played tricks on my mind, and I started seeing things out of the corners of my eyes. I had a lot of time to think, although most of it was consumed by one song going over and over and over, and I came up with this analogy: Imagine you're in a rowboat in the ocean, and it has a small hole in it. In order to keep from sinking, you have to bail it out every four minutes. That's all you can do. Bail, wait, bail, wait, bail. No end in sight.
Jump ahead to ConEd telling me they've fixed it. Well, they leave, it starts to rain again, and the damn thing is still leaking. Just dripping though, so I never need to change the bucket, but I call to see if they're going to come back and at least put the box cover back on, and they tell me first available crew. That was around noon on Sunday. I sat home all day yesterday, afraid to take a shower for fear they would show up and I wouldn't hear them. They never showed up. I hate them so much.
Did you miss me yesterday? Well, I was at home, suffering through daytime television and afraid to take a shower. It's a long story.
And it goes something like this. Saturday afternoon, I came home to find my front door mat all squishy and water slowly moving across the floor. It was coming from my storage closet, which also houses the gas and electric meters and the breaker boxes. I freaked out. The first thing I did was roll up my rug and stash it in the corner. Thankfully, it hadn't been hit. But I could see the water flowing. I opened up the storage closet door and freaked out some more. All my stuff is stored in cardboard boxes, because I am a genius. I called the landlord, who acted like he couldn't understand what I was trying to tell him. In his defense, I was freaking out. Totally useless. His daughter-in-law came over and took control of the situation, while I helplessly wandered around, picking up clutter. I pulled almost everything out of the closet and we found the source of the water.
Water was pouring out of a silver box in the wall, which ended up being the conduit box for the electricity. That means that wires from the street go through a big pipe into this box, then into the rest of the building. So, see, water was coming through from the storm drains (because rain + snow = flooding), through a break in the ConEd pipes, into my apartment. At a steady rate. Firemen were called. For some reason, five of them, with axes and things, came stomping and splashing into my living room, while I attempted to push water away from my couch. Go, linoleum! They turned off our power and called ConEd. Then everyone else called ConEd some more. Then the landlord's daughter-in-law showed more ingenuity than I could have possibly mustered at the time. She had her young son fetch two buckets, unscrewed the broom handle from the broom, and used it and the towels to mop up the floor while her son started the process of catching the water and dumping it. When they left, I had a dry and somewhat clean floor, most of the room had been moved into the kitchen, and I was left alone to empty the buckets.
The good news is that the distance from the storage closet to the storm drain right outside my front door is only about ten feet, but the bad news is that while it rained, and for two hours after, the rate of filling the buckets was one every four minutes. When it finally stopped around 7 pm, I was ecstatic. I lit a bunch of candles, ordered dinner, read by candlelight, then took a nap until about 10. ConEd hadn't shown, but I thought they might, so I stayed up. Good thing, too, because around 1 am, it started again. It was pouring outside, and it didn't let up for hours. The last few drips came in around 7 am. I figure that I emptied those buckets about 90 times, that round. My back hurt so much. Every time I got up to change the bucket, I would think, "I can't do this anymore, I'm losing my mind." As I got more and more tired, the candlelight played tricks on my mind, and I started seeing things out of the corners of my eyes. I had a lot of time to think, although most of it was consumed by one song going over and over and over, and I came up with this analogy: Imagine you're in a rowboat in the ocean, and it has a small hole in it. In order to keep from sinking, you have to bail it out every four minutes. That's all you can do. Bail, wait, bail, wait, bail. No end in sight.
Jump ahead to ConEd telling me they've fixed it. Well, they leave, it starts to rain again, and the damn thing is still leaking. Just dripping though, so I never need to change the bucket, but I call to see if they're going to come back and at least put the box cover back on, and they tell me first available crew. That was around noon on Sunday. I sat home all day yesterday, afraid to take a shower for fear they would show up and I wouldn't hear them. They never showed up. I hate them so much.
Friday, February 21, 2003
Let Your Fingers Do the Walking
Hey, I'm doing this! You should, too! Inundating our legislators' offices with phone calls protesting military action in Iraq: It's the armchair activist's dream come true!
Hey, I'm doing this! You should, too! Inundating our legislators' offices with phone calls protesting military action in Iraq: It's the armchair activist's dream come true!
Things That Make You Go... Sheesh
The T-Mobile commercial where the guy messes up the words to "Pour Some Sugar on Me" is just wrong, wrong, wrong. There is no way, that anyone who knew how that song went would not know the refrain is the title of the freaking song. How about that part about the "bubble"? I've never been quite clear on those words. Or the part right before the title that he seems to mess up anyway and I've never been able to figure out? How about a different song entirely? I'll tell you why. Some asswipe was sitting around and thought how funny it would be to have a librarian say "I'm hot, sticky sweet" (which is not the upcoming line to that verse, anyway, if you're listening), and worked the joke backwards from the punchline. That is not the way to bring the funny, lame-o copywriter! You sure are earning your $18K!
A baby was born on the expressway yesterday. From the TV report, I noticed it had a whole lot of hair! I also heard the cop say that in these troubled times, it's a really good thing to see a baby born on the expressway. I'm not joking. He said that. I think he meant it was great to witness the "miracle" of birth, or some equally sappy sentiment. As if something that happens thousands of times a day could be a miracle.
Aaron dumped Helene. And she was really surpised. And it happened at Starbucks. See what happens to you when you patronize Starbucks, the Foaming Vestibule of the Beast?
While flipping last night around 7:35 pm, I got to hear a contestant on Wheel of Fortune describe herself as "a Christian." That's nice. Usually people keep their religious and political affiliations to themselves on gameshows, but I guess it's important for everyone to know when there's a Christian around. You have to watch the swearing and the pre-marital sex. Plus, is it cheating to announce your bond with an omnipresent deity?
Okay, if you're "putting [your] daughter in God's hands," why would you have doctors perform a heart/lung transplant? That doesn't seem like "God's" work to me. And I won't be shocked if her body rejects the new organs, considering that she was in a state of rejection when the second surgery started. What kind of chance does she have for a meaningful, enjoyable life? Plus, now she's had two different sets of other people's nasty, used organs in her body. Ugh. The very thought makes me queasy. It makes my blood hurt. Ew.
[Disclaimer: I know I'm using Salon for my AP links, but they have more stories. I don't advocate their new ad-based system, and I don't read their articles anymore. Woo! Breakin' tha honor code!]
The T-Mobile commercial where the guy messes up the words to "Pour Some Sugar on Me" is just wrong, wrong, wrong. There is no way, that anyone who knew how that song went would not know the refrain is the title of the freaking song. How about that part about the "bubble"? I've never been quite clear on those words. Or the part right before the title that he seems to mess up anyway and I've never been able to figure out? How about a different song entirely? I'll tell you why. Some asswipe was sitting around and thought how funny it would be to have a librarian say "I'm hot, sticky sweet" (which is not the upcoming line to that verse, anyway, if you're listening), and worked the joke backwards from the punchline. That is not the way to bring the funny, lame-o copywriter! You sure are earning your $18K!
A baby was born on the expressway yesterday. From the TV report, I noticed it had a whole lot of hair! I also heard the cop say that in these troubled times, it's a really good thing to see a baby born on the expressway. I'm not joking. He said that. I think he meant it was great to witness the "miracle" of birth, or some equally sappy sentiment. As if something that happens thousands of times a day could be a miracle.
Aaron dumped Helene. And she was really surpised. And it happened at Starbucks. See what happens to you when you patronize Starbucks, the Foaming Vestibule of the Beast?
While flipping last night around 7:35 pm, I got to hear a contestant on Wheel of Fortune describe herself as "a Christian." That's nice. Usually people keep their religious and political affiliations to themselves on gameshows, but I guess it's important for everyone to know when there's a Christian around. You have to watch the swearing and the pre-marital sex. Plus, is it cheating to announce your bond with an omnipresent deity?
Okay, if you're "putting [your] daughter in God's hands," why would you have doctors perform a heart/lung transplant? That doesn't seem like "God's" work to me. And I won't be shocked if her body rejects the new organs, considering that she was in a state of rejection when the second surgery started. What kind of chance does she have for a meaningful, enjoyable life? Plus, now she's had two different sets of other people's nasty, used organs in her body. Ugh. The very thought makes me queasy. It makes my blood hurt. Ew.
[Disclaimer: I know I'm using Salon for my AP links, but they have more stories. I don't advocate their new ad-based system, and I don't read their articles anymore. Woo! Breakin' tha honor code!]
Thursday, February 20, 2003
Late Breaking News
I finally finished updating the Network TV section of my website. Of course, I didn't realize Kingpin was only six episodes long, and new midseason replacements are arriving any minute, so it's a work in progress. I like the new format, though, as I can rate the programs rather than give a thumbs-up/thumbs-down reaction. I also need to add some fan site links for the creepy touch.
Chevrolet has gone nutty. The right hand Flash ad on my Radio@Netscape Plus bar is alternating between promos and two Chevy ads that quote songs. They are: "Little Red Corvette/Baby you're much 2 fast (Yes U R)" with the TAFKAP symbol; and "Top dollar with the gold flea collar/Dippin' in my light blue Impala" credited to Snoop Dogg. The Chevy logo and the slogan "We'll Be There" appear below the quotes. It's stupid. If there are only two Chevy cars quoted in songs, they you've totally missed the concept of an effective ad campaign. I don't think I'd find it as dumb if they had three or four different ads. You have to have that number for a campaign. It's a must, Chevrolet!
I finally finished updating the Network TV section of my website. Of course, I didn't realize Kingpin was only six episodes long, and new midseason replacements are arriving any minute, so it's a work in progress. I like the new format, though, as I can rate the programs rather than give a thumbs-up/thumbs-down reaction. I also need to add some fan site links for the creepy touch.
Chevrolet has gone nutty. The right hand Flash ad on my Radio@Netscape Plus bar is alternating between promos and two Chevy ads that quote songs. They are: "Little Red Corvette/Baby you're much 2 fast (Yes U R)" with the TAFKAP symbol; and "Top dollar with the gold flea collar/Dippin' in my light blue Impala" credited to Snoop Dogg. The Chevy logo and the slogan "We'll Be There" appear below the quotes. It's stupid. If there are only two Chevy cars quoted in songs, they you've totally missed the concept of an effective ad campaign. I don't think I'd find it as dumb if they had three or four different ads. You have to have that number for a campaign. It's a must, Chevrolet!
Blogging is So Cool
I know this because I just found out that my all-time favorite humour writer, Dave Barry, has a blog. Also, why do I write "humour" with a "u," but "favorite" in the old-fashioned American way? Is a puzzlement.
I know this because I just found out that my all-time favorite humour writer, Dave Barry, has a blog. Also, why do I write "humour" with a "u," but "favorite" in the old-fashioned American way? Is a puzzlement.
Tuesday, February 18, 2003
Quote of the Day
From an AP story about plans for a liberal-leaning radio network:
"Progressives historically don't run in a pack. There's a kind of independent streak to the left wing in America that there isn't in the right wing." --Tom Rosenstiel, director for the Project for Excellence in Journalism.
Wow, you mean the conservatives aren't free thinkers? Hee.
From an AP story about plans for a liberal-leaning radio network:
"Progressives historically don't run in a pack. There's a kind of independent streak to the left wing in America that there isn't in the right wing." --Tom Rosenstiel, director for the Project for Excellence in Journalism.
Wow, you mean the conservatives aren't free thinkers? Hee.
Saturday, February 15, 2003
Arrrrrrrgh!
I can't believe this. All I had to do was take the L train to Union Square and get there by 11:15 am. But does the MTA want to let me? No. Sure, I was running late already, but the L station was packed with people waiting for that Manhattan bound train. I waited for twenty minutes before I finally gave up. I think it's an MTA conspiracy to keep the young Williamsburg crowd from going to the rally. If only I had been staying at my own house, I'm sure I wouldn't have had any problem with the N train coming. I am never housesitting again. There really are no benefits besides cable. Now, instead of being in midtown with (I hope) thousands of people, helping to demonstrate a presence of people who want peace, I'm stuck in fucking Greenpoint, blogging my rage. If I weren't a pacifist, I'd hit something.
The worst part is that I left a friend of mine sitting in a coffee shop, waiting for me, with no idea where I was, because my phone died. I seriously don't deserve to have friends. I ended up coming back to the house rather than just waiting for the train, because I had to call her. I felt so awful!
And why all this tragedy? What could have averted this? I'd say I probably would have been able to charge my phone and get up earlier and gotten there, if I hadn't been out drinking until 4 am. Those of you who buy me drinks, and you know who you are, just stop it. I can't take it anymore. I have no will power. I mean, come on, I smoked at least 35 cigarettes last night. What's that about? Maybe I should start going out for happy hour during the week more so I don't feel the need to run myself ragged on the weekends. Learn some moderation.
Anyway, that's my story. I'm sad because I fucked up and now I can't do the one thing I really want to do. Bad Alexia.
I can't believe this. All I had to do was take the L train to Union Square and get there by 11:15 am. But does the MTA want to let me? No. Sure, I was running late already, but the L station was packed with people waiting for that Manhattan bound train. I waited for twenty minutes before I finally gave up. I think it's an MTA conspiracy to keep the young Williamsburg crowd from going to the rally. If only I had been staying at my own house, I'm sure I wouldn't have had any problem with the N train coming. I am never housesitting again. There really are no benefits besides cable. Now, instead of being in midtown with (I hope) thousands of people, helping to demonstrate a presence of people who want peace, I'm stuck in fucking Greenpoint, blogging my rage. If I weren't a pacifist, I'd hit something.
The worst part is that I left a friend of mine sitting in a coffee shop, waiting for me, with no idea where I was, because my phone died. I seriously don't deserve to have friends. I ended up coming back to the house rather than just waiting for the train, because I had to call her. I felt so awful!
And why all this tragedy? What could have averted this? I'd say I probably would have been able to charge my phone and get up earlier and gotten there, if I hadn't been out drinking until 4 am. Those of you who buy me drinks, and you know who you are, just stop it. I can't take it anymore. I have no will power. I mean, come on, I smoked at least 35 cigarettes last night. What's that about? Maybe I should start going out for happy hour during the week more so I don't feel the need to run myself ragged on the weekends. Learn some moderation.
Anyway, that's my story. I'm sad because I fucked up and now I can't do the one thing I really want to do. Bad Alexia.
Friday, February 14, 2003
All They Want to Do is Dance
Got this from a friend today:
As the debate over war in Iraq proceeds, the anti-war movement is mobilizing. The following is excerpted from a widely distributed e-mail sent by a group called 'Mobilize New York'. We send this on to you for your information and because it concerns a possible demonstration in Times Square on Saturday afternoon, February 15:
BEGIN EXCERPT:
CONVERGE ON TIMES SQUARE AT 3PM SATURDAY
The NYPD's refusal to grant a march permit is preposterous, if not unpredictable. The NYC Carnival Bloc is responding with some love and rage.
They're calling for a massive street party in Times Square at 3pm after the rally. It will be a peaceful but unauthorized expression of opposition to an impending war on Iraq and the ongoing war on democracy in the U.S.
END EXCERPT
I weep for the state of the 21st century activist. This is your civil disobedience, to clog the streets of New York with a PARTY? This is how you get the government and the rest of the world to take your desire for a peaceful conflict resolution seriously? This group, the Carnival Bloc certainly has a plan for a feeder march to the rally, and that's fine. I disagree with their methods, even though members of their groups have brought me great entertainment and joy in the past, but they have every right to have a feeder march the way they want it. However, I would hate for them to be the focus of media attention, which is exactly what will happen, especially if they go through with blocking the streets of Time Square. I've seen them do it before, in the Lower East Side, but that was Halloween. It's like drag queens and leathermen getting all the press from the Heritage of Pride March (aka "Gay Pride Parade", don't get me started). This is a deadly serious subject and one that, unlike the war in Vietnam, may have immediate and direct impact on our very lives.
I'm a very happy-go-lucky, flamboyant person, but sometimes you have to put down the freaking feather boa and be sympathetic to the mainstream, because the majority rules, kids! How will it look the next day, on the cover of the Times, hmm? How will a big picture above the fold of some alternative performance artist covered in fake blood and sequins, playing an accordian and holding some too-too clever sign above the caption, "Freaks for Peace"? Yes, it's important to be aggressive, it's important to make yourselves heard, but it's also important to be TAKEN SERIOUSLY. Maybe I just don't get it, but maybe I just understand what it means to live in the real world.
Got this from a friend today:
As the debate over war in Iraq proceeds, the anti-war movement is mobilizing. The following is excerpted from a widely distributed e-mail sent by a group called 'Mobilize New York'. We send this on to you for your information and because it concerns a possible demonstration in Times Square on Saturday afternoon, February 15:
BEGIN EXCERPT:
CONVERGE ON TIMES SQUARE AT 3PM SATURDAY
The NYPD's refusal to grant a march permit is preposterous, if not unpredictable. The NYC Carnival Bloc is responding with some love and rage.
They're calling for a massive street party in Times Square at 3pm after the rally. It will be a peaceful but unauthorized expression of opposition to an impending war on Iraq and the ongoing war on democracy in the U.S.
END EXCERPT
I weep for the state of the 21st century activist. This is your civil disobedience, to clog the streets of New York with a PARTY? This is how you get the government and the rest of the world to take your desire for a peaceful conflict resolution seriously? This group, the Carnival Bloc certainly has a plan for a feeder march to the rally, and that's fine. I disagree with their methods, even though members of their groups have brought me great entertainment and joy in the past, but they have every right to have a feeder march the way they want it. However, I would hate for them to be the focus of media attention, which is exactly what will happen, especially if they go through with blocking the streets of Time Square. I've seen them do it before, in the Lower East Side, but that was Halloween. It's like drag queens and leathermen getting all the press from the Heritage of Pride March (aka "Gay Pride Parade", don't get me started). This is a deadly serious subject and one that, unlike the war in Vietnam, may have immediate and direct impact on our very lives.
I'm a very happy-go-lucky, flamboyant person, but sometimes you have to put down the freaking feather boa and be sympathetic to the mainstream, because the majority rules, kids! How will it look the next day, on the cover of the Times, hmm? How will a big picture above the fold of some alternative performance artist covered in fake blood and sequins, playing an accordian and holding some too-too clever sign above the caption, "Freaks for Peace"? Yes, it's important to be aggressive, it's important to make yourselves heard, but it's also important to be TAKEN SERIOUSLY. Maybe I just don't get it, but maybe I just understand what it means to live in the real world.
How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Anthrax
Apparently, since I haven't done the world the disservice of breeding, I, along with all the other non-parents out there, worry much less about terrorist threats. Just ask the AP!
"For a parent, I think it's worse than for a single person," said Margaret Geiger of Ambler, Pa., the mother of six. "It's always in our thinking -- the thought of something horrendous happening, and seeing my children suffer or being separated from them."
First of all, plenty of single people are also parents, thank you very much. Secondly, I wouldn't be surprised that someone who has obviously made it her mission in life to produce a litter of progeny, a whole team of children, would be very caught up in their safety. Isn't that the whole point of having the brats anyway? You take care of them. They're your responsibility. So what's new here? Am I supposed to feel sorry for someone because she is actually feeling the weight of her responsibility (and the frustrating inability) to protect her child? Give me a break. Maybe all parents should get special dispensation, you know, they get to buy the plastic sheeting and duct tape (ha!) first, or they get priority spots in line for vaccinations. We all know how hard the freaking parents of this country work. How special they are for allowing their bodies to involuntarily reproduce. (Especially those fine parents who have more than four children, you know, for working the fields. How the hell does a person raise six children? How many will turn out to be sociopaths?)
I knew that my status as a single, unbred woman was inferior to that of the married parent, but now I know for sure where I stand in the American caste system. Let's have a party! We don't have to worry about war! Woo-hoo! After all, it's not like anyone depends on us or like our lives have meaning or anything.
Apparently, since I haven't done the world the disservice of breeding, I, along with all the other non-parents out there, worry much less about terrorist threats. Just ask the AP!
"For a parent, I think it's worse than for a single person," said Margaret Geiger of Ambler, Pa., the mother of six. "It's always in our thinking -- the thought of something horrendous happening, and seeing my children suffer or being separated from them."
First of all, plenty of single people are also parents, thank you very much. Secondly, I wouldn't be surprised that someone who has obviously made it her mission in life to produce a litter of progeny, a whole team of children, would be very caught up in their safety. Isn't that the whole point of having the brats anyway? You take care of them. They're your responsibility. So what's new here? Am I supposed to feel sorry for someone because she is actually feeling the weight of her responsibility (and the frustrating inability) to protect her child? Give me a break. Maybe all parents should get special dispensation, you know, they get to buy the plastic sheeting and duct tape (ha!) first, or they get priority spots in line for vaccinations. We all know how hard the freaking parents of this country work. How special they are for allowing their bodies to involuntarily reproduce. (Especially those fine parents who have more than four children, you know, for working the fields. How the hell does a person raise six children? How many will turn out to be sociopaths?)
I knew that my status as a single, unbred woman was inferior to that of the married parent, but now I know for sure where I stand in the American caste system. Let's have a party! We don't have to worry about war! Woo-hoo! After all, it's not like anyone depends on us or like our lives have meaning or anything.
February Rocks!
Last night I was thinking about how much I fucking love sweeps. Angelus, an actually amusing episode of Buffy, Grissom totally doing it with a dominatrix, and the War of the Sexes on Survivor. Add Lionel Luthor being outed (on his not-blindness), and it's been a good week for TV fans. So, I was thinking, "Considering how much February sucks, at least there's sweeps." But then I realized that February is actually pretty cool. To wit:
Pros
1) When you're a kid, the first time you realize that you're consistently spelling "February" correctly gives a nice warm feeling of accomplishment.
2) Groundhog Day. Both the holiday and the Bill Murray comedy have brought so much into our lives.
3) President's Day. Another blessed Monday off work. Plus, sales!
4) Candy markdowns on February 15th.
5) Lupercalia. (More on this later today)
6) Only 28 days, which means the end-of-the-month paycheck comes faster, as does March, the first month of spring.
7) Sweeps!
8) Valentine's Day (if you have a sweetheart).
Cons
1) It's freaking cold.
2) Valentine's Day (if you don't have a sweetheart).
So, February, you're okay in my book.
[By the way, August is bad because it's really hot, 31 days, no holidays, and it signals the end of summer and the beginning of school. Blah.]
Last night I was thinking about how much I fucking love sweeps. Angelus, an actually amusing episode of Buffy, Grissom totally doing it with a dominatrix, and the War of the Sexes on Survivor. Add Lionel Luthor being outed (on his not-blindness), and it's been a good week for TV fans. So, I was thinking, "Considering how much February sucks, at least there's sweeps." But then I realized that February is actually pretty cool. To wit:
Pros
1) When you're a kid, the first time you realize that you're consistently spelling "February" correctly gives a nice warm feeling of accomplishment.
2) Groundhog Day. Both the holiday and the Bill Murray comedy have brought so much into our lives.
3) President's Day. Another blessed Monday off work. Plus, sales!
4) Candy markdowns on February 15th.
5) Lupercalia. (More on this later today)
6) Only 28 days, which means the end-of-the-month paycheck comes faster, as does March, the first month of spring.
7) Sweeps!
8) Valentine's Day (if you have a sweetheart).
Cons
1) It's freaking cold.
2) Valentine's Day (if you don't have a sweetheart).
So, February, you're okay in my book.
[By the way, August is bad because it's really hot, 31 days, no holidays, and it signals the end of summer and the beginning of school. Blah.]
Thursday, February 13, 2003
Welcome Back, Eighties!
I need this, in every color. and don't give me the old, "well, you won't even go out during the week, when will you wear it?" line, because I'll be back, eventually. And I'll have me some periwinkle eyelashes, too.
I need this, in every color. and don't give me the old, "well, you won't even go out during the week, when will you wear it?" line, because I'll be back, eventually. And I'll have me some periwinkle eyelashes, too.
Morons on Parade!
Look, kids, I'm no angel. I'll admit that I have been keeping up with Joe Millionaire. I'll admit that I was annoyed that I skipped karate to watch what I thought was going to be the finale. But I got over it, especially since I had a remote in my hand and was able to watch something else. Unfortunately, for some it is not that easy. My favorite quote in this story -- perhaps the quote of the day? -- is: "Fox has lied to us, and I feel that they should be punished for that. ... Bad move, guys. It will be a while before I put my trust back into Fox."
Hahahahahahahahahahahahaha... Gosh, yes. I often put my trust into the megaconglomerate companies that run television networks. And I am so seldom disappointed. This just hit too close to home! Give me a break. Even when the WB made the awful, awful mistake of not throwing all of its money to Buffy, sentencing it to a pathetic, lingering death on UPN, I didn't feel anything like a betrayal of trust. Pissed off, yes. Irritated and confused? Definitely. But these are kind of Alexia default settings anyway. My point is, IT'S JUST TV. Stop watching TV and posting to message boards at the same time. Stop saying things like "Why would [character name] do that?" Um, because the writers made him do it. The real question is, "What are the writers smoking?" Enjoy television, but don't invest your trust in the FOX network. Rupert Murdoch would rip your heart out of your chest as soon as look at you. And Jesus Christ, people, if you want to get upset about a TV show, how about something with a little more worth than freaking Joe Millionaire?
More examples of rampant moron behavior:
A) The New York City Council is wasting time and taxpayer money pushing through a bill that it admits the police will not be spending any time enforcing. What is this new NYC ban, you ask? No cell phones at the theater. If your phone rings at a movie, play, ballet, museum, library or a concert, you may face a $50 fine. How stupid is that? Sure, it's common sense to be polite, but you can't fine someone for being rude. Seriously, that's the height of stupidity.
B) In Iran, even though many people seem to want to celebrate Valentine's Day, the government has said no way. In this case, I can't figure out if it's the people or the government who are more stupid here. On one hand, the "hard-line clerical" government should be more in touch with its people, but on the other hand, Valentine's Day is just a made up holiday to sell cards, candy and flowers. Oh, and trashy lingerie that will only be worn once, but I don't think that applies in Iran.
C) OK, ladies, if you're husband is having an affair, don't try to surgically improve yourself, be the perfect housefrau and offer him more sex. He'll just be excited that he's got two dopes willing to sleep with him and you'll get so pissed off you'll run him over with your big German car. Say it with me if you know the words, D-I-V-O-R-C-E. It seems like no one wants to get divorced anymore! What is this country coming to?
D) The Democrats still haven't figured out that they need to present a united front to defeat George W. Bush in 2004.
2003. The Year of the Moron.
Look, kids, I'm no angel. I'll admit that I have been keeping up with Joe Millionaire. I'll admit that I was annoyed that I skipped karate to watch what I thought was going to be the finale. But I got over it, especially since I had a remote in my hand and was able to watch something else. Unfortunately, for some it is not that easy. My favorite quote in this story -- perhaps the quote of the day? -- is: "Fox has lied to us, and I feel that they should be punished for that. ... Bad move, guys. It will be a while before I put my trust back into Fox."
Hahahahahahahahahahahahaha... Gosh, yes. I often put my trust into the megaconglomerate companies that run television networks. And I am so seldom disappointed. This just hit too close to home! Give me a break. Even when the WB made the awful, awful mistake of not throwing all of its money to Buffy, sentencing it to a pathetic, lingering death on UPN, I didn't feel anything like a betrayal of trust. Pissed off, yes. Irritated and confused? Definitely. But these are kind of Alexia default settings anyway. My point is, IT'S JUST TV. Stop watching TV and posting to message boards at the same time. Stop saying things like "Why would [character name] do that?" Um, because the writers made him do it. The real question is, "What are the writers smoking?" Enjoy television, but don't invest your trust in the FOX network. Rupert Murdoch would rip your heart out of your chest as soon as look at you. And Jesus Christ, people, if you want to get upset about a TV show, how about something with a little more worth than freaking Joe Millionaire?
More examples of rampant moron behavior:
A) The New York City Council is wasting time and taxpayer money pushing through a bill that it admits the police will not be spending any time enforcing. What is this new NYC ban, you ask? No cell phones at the theater. If your phone rings at a movie, play, ballet, museum, library or a concert, you may face a $50 fine. How stupid is that? Sure, it's common sense to be polite, but you can't fine someone for being rude. Seriously, that's the height of stupidity.
B) In Iran, even though many people seem to want to celebrate Valentine's Day, the government has said no way. In this case, I can't figure out if it's the people or the government who are more stupid here. On one hand, the "hard-line clerical" government should be more in touch with its people, but on the other hand, Valentine's Day is just a made up holiday to sell cards, candy and flowers. Oh, and trashy lingerie that will only be worn once, but I don't think that applies in Iran.
C) OK, ladies, if you're husband is having an affair, don't try to surgically improve yourself, be the perfect housefrau and offer him more sex. He'll just be excited that he's got two dopes willing to sleep with him and you'll get so pissed off you'll run him over with your big German car. Say it with me if you know the words, D-I-V-O-R-C-E. It seems like no one wants to get divorced anymore! What is this country coming to?
D) The Democrats still haven't figured out that they need to present a united front to defeat George W. Bush in 2004.
2003. The Year of the Moron.
I Understand, It's Not You, It's Me
Since no one cares to help me make my decision, I made it on my own. There will be more opportunities for me to prance about half-nekkid at a dance club when I have more money. I just love the theme idea of wearing that red lace bloomer-bodysuit with my new panties with the heart on them. Aw, no one would notice it amongst all the latex anyway.
And, yay, my voice teacher told me that she thinks of me, and is training me as, a soprano. I haven't thought of myself as a soprano since I was a freshman in high school! Woo hoo! Bring on the high girly songs!
Since no one cares to help me make my decision, I made it on my own. There will be more opportunities for me to prance about half-nekkid at a dance club when I have more money. I just love the theme idea of wearing that red lace bloomer-bodysuit with my new panties with the heart on them. Aw, no one would notice it amongst all the latex anyway.
And, yay, my voice teacher told me that she thinks of me, and is training me as, a soprano. I haven't thought of myself as a soprano since I was a freshman in high school! Woo hoo! Bring on the high girly songs!
Wednesday, February 12, 2003
The Libra Gives Up
I just wrote some whole paragraph about my stupid money thoughts and choices for Thursday evening. It was so boring and simpering that I deleted it. I'll put it to a vote.
Irresponsible partying in red panties or good-girl TV-watchin'?
Just send me an e-mail telling me which way I should go!
I just wrote some whole paragraph about my stupid money thoughts and choices for Thursday evening. It was so boring and simpering that I deleted it. I'll put it to a vote.
Irresponsible partying in red panties or good-girl TV-watchin'?
Just send me an e-mail telling me which way I should go!
More?
Prince can't catch a break from The Onion today.
The Onion: Who could you take in a fight?
Trey Parker [of South Park]: I could take a lot of people. I could take Prince. He's a little bitch, although he is God.
Prince can't catch a break from The Onion today.
The Onion: Who could you take in a fight?
Trey Parker [of South Park]: I could take a lot of people. I could take Prince. He's a little bitch, although he is God.
Oh, Onion, Why Hast Thou Forsaken Me
U.S. Council Of Coolness Releases Formal Statement On Prince
WASHINGTON, DC—On Monday, the U.S. Council of Coolness released its long-awaited ruling on Prince, declaring the recording artist "provisionally cool" by a 13-11 margin. "This was a more difficult decision than it should have been," the 240-page report read. "In the end, however, albums like 1999 and Sign O' The Times are sufficiently brilliant to offset such padded late-period dorkfests as Rave Un2 The Joy Fantastic and The Rainbow Children." The Council of Coolness warned that the decision could be reversed if Prince records one more rap in which he declares himself "super-fonky" or "2 jammin' 4 U."
Well, maybe it is true, but I liked Rave! The rap does have to go, though.
U.S. Council Of Coolness Releases Formal Statement On Prince
WASHINGTON, DC—On Monday, the U.S. Council of Coolness released its long-awaited ruling on Prince, declaring the recording artist "provisionally cool" by a 13-11 margin. "This was a more difficult decision than it should have been," the 240-page report read. "In the end, however, albums like 1999 and Sign O' The Times are sufficiently brilliant to offset such padded late-period dorkfests as Rave Un2 The Joy Fantastic and The Rainbow Children." The Council of Coolness warned that the decision could be reversed if Prince records one more rap in which he declares himself "super-fonky" or "2 jammin' 4 U."
Well, maybe it is true, but I liked Rave! The rap does have to go, though.
How to Maintain a Peaceful Demonstration
Sorry for the bait and switch, but I don't actually have that pamphlet in front of me to transcribe. Instead, I want to encourage anyone who is opposed to military action in Iraq to visit this site and join a protest in your area on February 15. There are also feeder marches (though some are ill-advised) that will end up at First Avenue and 49th Street. There are two schools of thought on the protest march and what is smart behavior. Some people think it's okay to get ostentatious about it, that it draws attention and dissuades violence, but I think too much goofy stuff downplays the seriousness of a protest against war. Also, if you're arrested, do you want to be outfitted in a feather boa or wearing dangling jewelry that can hurt you? The less freaky peace-protesters are, the more seriously the movement is taken. Carry attention getting signs and banners, chant catchy slogans, but don't treat a protest march like a parade.
Sorry for the bait and switch, but I don't actually have that pamphlet in front of me to transcribe. Instead, I want to encourage anyone who is opposed to military action in Iraq to visit this site and join a protest in your area on February 15. There are also feeder marches (though some are ill-advised) that will end up at First Avenue and 49th Street. There are two schools of thought on the protest march and what is smart behavior. Some people think it's okay to get ostentatious about it, that it draws attention and dissuades violence, but I think too much goofy stuff downplays the seriousness of a protest against war. Also, if you're arrested, do you want to be outfitted in a feather boa or wearing dangling jewelry that can hurt you? The less freaky peace-protesters are, the more seriously the movement is taken. Carry attention getting signs and banners, chant catchy slogans, but don't treat a protest march like a parade.
Won't Get Fooled Again!
Dude, it's like The Who in Cincinnati all over again! But on a more serious note, the rest of the article seems to imply that the thing we really don't want is happening. The Muslim world is taking US action against Iraq personally. Golly gee, I sure am glad to have as mortal enemies people who have such spirited religious practices. That makes me feel super safe.
So, what the hell is happening with the Oscars? Let's see. I've only seen one movie that was nominated. Of course, that could be because I only went to the movies twice last year, and Secretary got hosed. How is that possible that I've only seen two movies in a whole year. I remember wanting to see several movies: Lilo & Stitch, The Powerpuff Girls Movie, Spider-man, Harry Potter, and all those smart movies that got nominated. I don't think it's really that I'm too cheap to pay $10 to see a movie (invariably in a nasty theater with talking people), but I'd rather spend my time talking to other people while drinking and smoking. I feel like spending two hours in a dark theater is a waste of my time, when I can eventually watch it on video at home, pause it, recline, smoke, whatever. I'll take the time to see a play, but lately I only go see a movie if it's directed by Peter Jackson and stars Elijah Wood, if you know what I mean. Oh well, I'm sure I'm not missing much. This weekend I watched Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, Macao, and My Fair Lady on video. If the movies out now don't hold up after 50 years, I guess I don't need to see them anyway.
Dude, it's like The Who in Cincinnati all over again! But on a more serious note, the rest of the article seems to imply that the thing we really don't want is happening. The Muslim world is taking US action against Iraq personally. Golly gee, I sure am glad to have as mortal enemies people who have such spirited religious practices. That makes me feel super safe.
So, what the hell is happening with the Oscars? Let's see. I've only seen one movie that was nominated. Of course, that could be because I only went to the movies twice last year, and Secretary got hosed. How is that possible that I've only seen two movies in a whole year. I remember wanting to see several movies: Lilo & Stitch, The Powerpuff Girls Movie, Spider-man, Harry Potter, and all those smart movies that got nominated. I don't think it's really that I'm too cheap to pay $10 to see a movie (invariably in a nasty theater with talking people), but I'd rather spend my time talking to other people while drinking and smoking. I feel like spending two hours in a dark theater is a waste of my time, when I can eventually watch it on video at home, pause it, recline, smoke, whatever. I'll take the time to see a play, but lately I only go see a movie if it's directed by Peter Jackson and stars Elijah Wood, if you know what I mean. Oh well, I'm sure I'm not missing much. This weekend I watched Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, Macao, and My Fair Lady on video. If the movies out now don't hold up after 50 years, I guess I don't need to see them anyway.
Friday, February 07, 2003
Enough, Already
Hey, it's all well and good to make fun of Michael Jackson, but I have to agree with him here. I saw part of this program last night and the follow up interview with Martin Bashir, and they treated Michael very badly. I'm not a big fan of his music; goodness knows he hasn't done anything original or groundbreaking since Thriller, and his dance moves are exactly the same now as they when he was five. But I thought the interview showed that he is simply unlike other people, and doubtfully a harm to others, especially children. This guy grew up with no childhood. Before he was a teenager, women were treating him in a sexual way because of his music and stage presence. His father never let him be a kid, pushing him to be a star. When his brothers got a break after The Jackson Five became a solo act, he continued. He was fabulously rich when he was a child. He said to Barbara Walters that, even in 1979, people wouldn't just speak to him like a "next door neighbor." So he creates this world of his own, and has his childhood. People have said he seems afraid of sex, asexual. I'm no psychologist, but just listening to him speak, I very much doubt he's a child molester. It just doesn't add up. I think he likes hanging out with kids because he wants to be one. Michael Jackson would also not be the first adult to sleep in a bed with a child in a non-sexual way. It happens every day. I've even seen it on television. And who cares how many plastic surgeries he's had? It's his business. This guy has been a very private person for a long time. It's the media who seek him out. Why treat an obviously afflicted celebrity like he's some kind of political figure or crime boss that we need to investigate? Leave him the hell alone if you can't say anything nice. He was once accused of something that he was not convicted of. The media isn't this harsh on George W. Bush's confirmed drug history, and he's our freaking president. I know everyone thinks he's nuts, but when a man grants you an interview in his very private compound, and you make it out that he's a lunatic and a liar, and a "law unto himself," you are betraying a trust. Celebrities shouldn't be treated the way world leaders and CEOs should be treated in reporting. Celebrities, unless they are currently under indictment or suspicion of a crime, are puff-piece fodder, not targets for hard-hitting journalism. ABC should really be ashamed.
Which reminds me, how sick is it to see headlines about terrorism and Valentine's Day right next to each other? And if that pesky war is getting you down, read all the latest reality TV gossip at the same site! Yippee! Having never lived through a "serious" war (we all knew Desert Storm was a joke when it was broadcast on Channel One into our homeroom), I wonder if the American media machine keeps pumping out this crap while our men are dying and killing? Is it a palative to the public to keep feeding them American Idol and new ring tones for their cellular phones? I know I mocked the entertainment industry for their somber reaction to September 11, but it seems even more disgusting to keep on shucking and jiving while we wage a concerted effort to destroy human life and steal oil. When a nation is asked to sacrifice for the war effort, they need the entertainment even more, they deserve it. Hell, if I had to give up my nylons and sugar and work at the airplane plant, I'd really appreciate a nice picture show on a Saturday. But who's sacrificing what? It's almost as if America is saying, "We have the GOD-given right to be consumerist pigs, wallowing in our Hollywood filth AND to demand that other countries recognize our inherent superiority." Ew. But it's not like you can turn back the tide of "progress." It's not like you can go back, cover up the pop singers' navels, convince rappers to stop cursing, Mark Burnett to stop producing, advertisers to stop plastering their logos all over the world, and news organizations to stop making up slogans and jingles for every damn incident. But sometimes I want to. Sometimes I just want to scream, "STOP!!!" What is this world we live in, where everything is branded, or it has no meaning. Gary Snyder talked about "the weirdness of television and advertising" when he was writing poetry in the late 60s. He said you had to know it to be a poet, but he said so much more about knowing animals, trees and stars.
Speaking of Gary Snyder (a friend and contemporary of Allen Ginsberg), I want to reprint a poem of his that he expressly wrote to be reprinted. It blew my mind. OK, I'm a hippie...
-------------------
SMOKEY THE BEAR SUTRA
Once in the Jurassic about 150 million years ago
the Great Sun Buddha in this corner of the Infinite
Void gave a Discourse to all the assembled elements
and energies: to the standing beings, the walking beings,
the flying beings, and the sitting beings -- even grasses,
to the number of thirteen billion, each one born from a
seed, assembled there: a Discourse concerning
Enlightenment on the planet Earth.
"In some future time, there will be a continent called
America. It will have great centers of power called
such as Pyramid Lake, Walden Pond, Mt. Rainier, Big Sur,
Everglades, and so forth; and powerful nerves and channels
such as Columbia River, Mississippi River, and Grand
Canyon.
The human race in that era will get into troubles all over
its head, and practically wreck everything in spite of
its own strong intelligent Buddha-nature.
"The twisting strata of the great mountains and the pulsings
of volcanoes are my love burning deep in the earth.
My obstinate compassion is schist and basalt and
granite, to be mountains, to bring down the rain. In that
future American Era I shall enter a new form; to cure
the world of loveless knowledge that seeks with blind
hunger:
and mindless rage eating food that will not fill it"
And he showed himself in his true form of
SMOKEY THE BEAR.
A handsome smokey-colored brown bear standing
on his hind legs, showing that he is aroused and watchful.
Bearing in his right paw the Shovel that digs to the
truth beneath appearances; cuts the roots of useless attach-
ments, and flings damp sand on the fires of greed and war;
His left paw in the Mudra of Comradely Display --
indicating that all creatures have the full right to live their
limits and that deer, rabbits, chipmunks, snakes, dandelions,
and lizards all grow in the realm of the Dharma;
Wearing the blue work overalls symbolic of slaves
and laborers, the countless men oppressed by a civilization
that claims to save but often destroys;
Wearing the broad-brimmed hat of the West,
symbolic of the forces that guard the Wilderness, which is
the Natural State of the Dharma and the True Path of man
on earth: all true paths lead through mountains --
With a halo of smoke and flam behind, the forest
fires of the kali-yuga, fires caused by the stupidity of those
who think things can be gained and lost whereas in truth all
is contained vast and free in the Blue Sky and Green Earth
of One Mind;
Round-bellied to show his kind nature and that the
great earth has food enough for everyone who loves her
and trusts her;
Trampling underfoot wasteful freeways and needless
suburbs; smashing the worms of capitalism and
totalitarianism;
Indicating the Task: his followers, becoming free of
cars, houses, canned foods, universities, and shoes, master
the Three Mysteries of their own Body, Speech, and Mind;
and fearlessly chop down the rotten trees and prune out the
sick limbs of this country America and then burn the
leftover trash.
Wrathful but Calm. Austere but Comic. Smokey the Bear
will
Illuminate those who would help him; but for those who
would
hinder or slander him,
HE WILL PUT THEM OUT.
Thus his great Mantra:
Namah samanta vajranam chanda maharoshana
Sphataya hum traks ham mam
"I DEDICATE MYSLEF TO THE UNIVERSAL DIAMOND
BE THIS RAGING FURY DESTROYED"
And he will protect those who love woods and rivers,
Gods and animals, hobos and madmen, prisoners and sick
people, musicians, playful women, and hopeful children:
And if anyone is threatened by advertising, air pollution,
television,
or the police, they should chant SMOKEY THE BEAR'S
WAR SPELL:
DROWN THEIR BUTTS
CRUSH THEIR BUTTS
DROWN THEIR BUTTS
CRUSH THEIR BUTTS
And SMOKEY THE BEAR will surely appear to put the
enemy out
with his vajra-shovel.
Now those who recite this Sutra and then try to put it in
practice will accumulate merit as countless as the
sands of Arizona and Nevada.
Will help save the planet Earth from total oil slick.
Will enter the age of harmony of man and nature.
Will win the tender love and caresses of men, women and
beasts.
Will always have ripe blackberries to eat and a sunny spot
under a pine tree to sit at.
AND IN THE END WILL WIN HIGHEST PERFECT
ENLIGHTENMENT.
thus we have heard.
(may be reproduced free forever)
-------------------
How ya like them apples?
Hey, it's all well and good to make fun of Michael Jackson, but I have to agree with him here. I saw part of this program last night and the follow up interview with Martin Bashir, and they treated Michael very badly. I'm not a big fan of his music; goodness knows he hasn't done anything original or groundbreaking since Thriller, and his dance moves are exactly the same now as they when he was five. But I thought the interview showed that he is simply unlike other people, and doubtfully a harm to others, especially children. This guy grew up with no childhood. Before he was a teenager, women were treating him in a sexual way because of his music and stage presence. His father never let him be a kid, pushing him to be a star. When his brothers got a break after The Jackson Five became a solo act, he continued. He was fabulously rich when he was a child. He said to Barbara Walters that, even in 1979, people wouldn't just speak to him like a "next door neighbor." So he creates this world of his own, and has his childhood. People have said he seems afraid of sex, asexual. I'm no psychologist, but just listening to him speak, I very much doubt he's a child molester. It just doesn't add up. I think he likes hanging out with kids because he wants to be one. Michael Jackson would also not be the first adult to sleep in a bed with a child in a non-sexual way. It happens every day. I've even seen it on television. And who cares how many plastic surgeries he's had? It's his business. This guy has been a very private person for a long time. It's the media who seek him out. Why treat an obviously afflicted celebrity like he's some kind of political figure or crime boss that we need to investigate? Leave him the hell alone if you can't say anything nice. He was once accused of something that he was not convicted of. The media isn't this harsh on George W. Bush's confirmed drug history, and he's our freaking president. I know everyone thinks he's nuts, but when a man grants you an interview in his very private compound, and you make it out that he's a lunatic and a liar, and a "law unto himself," you are betraying a trust. Celebrities shouldn't be treated the way world leaders and CEOs should be treated in reporting. Celebrities, unless they are currently under indictment or suspicion of a crime, are puff-piece fodder, not targets for hard-hitting journalism. ABC should really be ashamed.
Which reminds me, how sick is it to see headlines about terrorism and Valentine's Day right next to each other? And if that pesky war is getting you down, read all the latest reality TV gossip at the same site! Yippee! Having never lived through a "serious" war (we all knew Desert Storm was a joke when it was broadcast on Channel One into our homeroom), I wonder if the American media machine keeps pumping out this crap while our men are dying and killing? Is it a palative to the public to keep feeding them American Idol and new ring tones for their cellular phones? I know I mocked the entertainment industry for their somber reaction to September 11, but it seems even more disgusting to keep on shucking and jiving while we wage a concerted effort to destroy human life and steal oil. When a nation is asked to sacrifice for the war effort, they need the entertainment even more, they deserve it. Hell, if I had to give up my nylons and sugar and work at the airplane plant, I'd really appreciate a nice picture show on a Saturday. But who's sacrificing what? It's almost as if America is saying, "We have the GOD-given right to be consumerist pigs, wallowing in our Hollywood filth AND to demand that other countries recognize our inherent superiority." Ew. But it's not like you can turn back the tide of "progress." It's not like you can go back, cover up the pop singers' navels, convince rappers to stop cursing, Mark Burnett to stop producing, advertisers to stop plastering their logos all over the world, and news organizations to stop making up slogans and jingles for every damn incident. But sometimes I want to. Sometimes I just want to scream, "STOP!!!" What is this world we live in, where everything is branded, or it has no meaning. Gary Snyder talked about "the weirdness of television and advertising" when he was writing poetry in the late 60s. He said you had to know it to be a poet, but he said so much more about knowing animals, trees and stars.
Speaking of Gary Snyder (a friend and contemporary of Allen Ginsberg), I want to reprint a poem of his that he expressly wrote to be reprinted. It blew my mind. OK, I'm a hippie...
-------------------
SMOKEY THE BEAR SUTRA
Once in the Jurassic about 150 million years ago
the Great Sun Buddha in this corner of the Infinite
Void gave a Discourse to all the assembled elements
and energies: to the standing beings, the walking beings,
the flying beings, and the sitting beings -- even grasses,
to the number of thirteen billion, each one born from a
seed, assembled there: a Discourse concerning
Enlightenment on the planet Earth.
"In some future time, there will be a continent called
America. It will have great centers of power called
such as Pyramid Lake, Walden Pond, Mt. Rainier, Big Sur,
Everglades, and so forth; and powerful nerves and channels
such as Columbia River, Mississippi River, and Grand
Canyon.
The human race in that era will get into troubles all over
its head, and practically wreck everything in spite of
its own strong intelligent Buddha-nature.
"The twisting strata of the great mountains and the pulsings
of volcanoes are my love burning deep in the earth.
My obstinate compassion is schist and basalt and
granite, to be mountains, to bring down the rain. In that
future American Era I shall enter a new form; to cure
the world of loveless knowledge that seeks with blind
hunger:
and mindless rage eating food that will not fill it"
And he showed himself in his true form of
SMOKEY THE BEAR.
A handsome smokey-colored brown bear standing
on his hind legs, showing that he is aroused and watchful.
Bearing in his right paw the Shovel that digs to the
truth beneath appearances; cuts the roots of useless attach-
ments, and flings damp sand on the fires of greed and war;
His left paw in the Mudra of Comradely Display --
indicating that all creatures have the full right to live their
limits and that deer, rabbits, chipmunks, snakes, dandelions,
and lizards all grow in the realm of the Dharma;
Wearing the blue work overalls symbolic of slaves
and laborers, the countless men oppressed by a civilization
that claims to save but often destroys;
Wearing the broad-brimmed hat of the West,
symbolic of the forces that guard the Wilderness, which is
the Natural State of the Dharma and the True Path of man
on earth: all true paths lead through mountains --
With a halo of smoke and flam behind, the forest
fires of the kali-yuga, fires caused by the stupidity of those
who think things can be gained and lost whereas in truth all
is contained vast and free in the Blue Sky and Green Earth
of One Mind;
Round-bellied to show his kind nature and that the
great earth has food enough for everyone who loves her
and trusts her;
Trampling underfoot wasteful freeways and needless
suburbs; smashing the worms of capitalism and
totalitarianism;
Indicating the Task: his followers, becoming free of
cars, houses, canned foods, universities, and shoes, master
the Three Mysteries of their own Body, Speech, and Mind;
and fearlessly chop down the rotten trees and prune out the
sick limbs of this country America and then burn the
leftover trash.
Wrathful but Calm. Austere but Comic. Smokey the Bear
will
Illuminate those who would help him; but for those who
would
hinder or slander him,
HE WILL PUT THEM OUT.
Thus his great Mantra:
Namah samanta vajranam chanda maharoshana
Sphataya hum traks ham mam
"I DEDICATE MYSLEF TO THE UNIVERSAL DIAMOND
BE THIS RAGING FURY DESTROYED"
And he will protect those who love woods and rivers,
Gods and animals, hobos and madmen, prisoners and sick
people, musicians, playful women, and hopeful children:
And if anyone is threatened by advertising, air pollution,
television,
or the police, they should chant SMOKEY THE BEAR'S
WAR SPELL:
DROWN THEIR BUTTS
CRUSH THEIR BUTTS
DROWN THEIR BUTTS
CRUSH THEIR BUTTS
And SMOKEY THE BEAR will surely appear to put the
enemy out
with his vajra-shovel.
Now those who recite this Sutra and then try to put it in
practice will accumulate merit as countless as the
sands of Arizona and Nevada.
Will help save the planet Earth from total oil slick.
Will enter the age of harmony of man and nature.
Will win the tender love and caresses of men, women and
beasts.
Will always have ripe blackberries to eat and a sunny spot
under a pine tree to sit at.
AND IN THE END WILL WIN HIGHEST PERFECT
ENLIGHTENMENT.
thus we have heard.
(may be reproduced free forever)
-------------------
How ya like them apples?
Thursday, February 06, 2003
Monkey on My Back
When you write a blog, they style takes over your everyday writing and your conversations. I'll be really worried when I start trying to attach links to my spoken words. My old man sent me this link today and I sent him the following reply:
"This is very interesting. I always marvel when people say it’s okay to censor if the material is inflammatory or can hurt someone’s feelings. I think that’s bull. Freedom of speech and artistic expression is bound to result in someone being offended, especially if it’s done well. I know a man who thinks that books that say biased things about Jews (he’s very pro-Israel) should be banned. He’s not from America, and he doesn’t get our objections to banning books. Sometimes I think the Arabs and the Jews just want to go on hating and killing each other forever, because they never seem to want to engage in a dialogue about their underlying issues. It’s as if they actually dug to the core of their differences, maybe they’d see how fragile their arguments (religion) are and that would be unacceptable. Personally, I’m getting sick of what is basically a bunch of cry-babies with scary weapons holding our world hostage with their ignorance and hate and petty feuding. I appreciate a playwright who has the guts to write a play like this, which seems very reminiscent of plays about Vietnam in the 70s. I think it’s pathetic that the Sycamore High School principal said they weren’t equipped to deal with students’ emotions if they saw the play. In other words, they don’t think they could handle having real discussions with their students about real life? Well, way to be a leader of youth, moron. This is why so many kids have their minds blown by their Freshman Comp teachers in college. They learn absolutely nothing of analytical thought in high school and when a prof tells them that something in a book might actually relate to reality, they think they’ve discovered a cure for cancer.
"Sorry for the stream of consciousness. I think I’ll just reprint this in my blog."
When you write a blog, they style takes over your everyday writing and your conversations. I'll be really worried when I start trying to attach links to my spoken words. My old man sent me this link today and I sent him the following reply:
"This is very interesting. I always marvel when people say it’s okay to censor if the material is inflammatory or can hurt someone’s feelings. I think that’s bull. Freedom of speech and artistic expression is bound to result in someone being offended, especially if it’s done well. I know a man who thinks that books that say biased things about Jews (he’s very pro-Israel) should be banned. He’s not from America, and he doesn’t get our objections to banning books. Sometimes I think the Arabs and the Jews just want to go on hating and killing each other forever, because they never seem to want to engage in a dialogue about their underlying issues. It’s as if they actually dug to the core of their differences, maybe they’d see how fragile their arguments (religion) are and that would be unacceptable. Personally, I’m getting sick of what is basically a bunch of cry-babies with scary weapons holding our world hostage with their ignorance and hate and petty feuding. I appreciate a playwright who has the guts to write a play like this, which seems very reminiscent of plays about Vietnam in the 70s. I think it’s pathetic that the Sycamore High School principal said they weren’t equipped to deal with students’ emotions if they saw the play. In other words, they don’t think they could handle having real discussions with their students about real life? Well, way to be a leader of youth, moron. This is why so many kids have their minds blown by their Freshman Comp teachers in college. They learn absolutely nothing of analytical thought in high school and when a prof tells them that something in a book might actually relate to reality, they think they’ve discovered a cure for cancer.
"Sorry for the stream of consciousness. I think I’ll just reprint this in my blog."
Wednesday, February 05, 2003
Cooking with Alexia
OK, so I'm on a mission to eat everything in my house before I go out and buy anything more. I decided to take a mental inventory. I have a pretty good memory, so I don't think I've left anything out.
Freezer
half a box of potato and cheese pierogies
freezer pops from last summer that are too hard to open
coffee flavored frozen yogurt
whole grain Eggo waffles
ice
Fridge
Butter/margarine
milk, lactose free
eggs of dubious freshness (bought in December)
leftover baked beans, vegetarian
some pretty old whole grain bread
very small amount of leftover scalloped potatoes that should be trashed
applesauce... damn, I think I left it out on the counter this morning
two fat free Swiss Miss chocolate pudding cups
some old salsa
mustard of three varieties, horseradish, A1 sauce, sugar free marmalade, pickle relish, light mayo, worcestershire sauce, a very small amount of ketchup
(some nailpolish)
Cupboards
Garlic
salt, pepper, thyme, oregano, seasoned salt, Mrs. Dash (very old), chicken bouillion
Flour, sugar, baking powder, vanilla extract, green food coloring, red sugar
Pasta - small shells, ziti, whole wheat spaghetti (ick)
Some possibly stale frosted mini-wheats
A nearly empty bag of Hershey's kisses
Plain couscous
Cream of Wheat, instant
Oil - vegetable and olive
a can of chickpeas
two sleeves of saltines
3/4 of a jar of unsalted peanuts
some peanut butter I'm afraid to open
a banana that has to go soon
decaffeinated tea bags
(the can of Spam I got for my 21st birthday, not for eating)
The thing is, I should have eaten a lot of this stuff a long time ago, but I got lazy (and wanted flavor and substance), so I ordered out. In my future, I see a smoothie, some iced tea, pierogies in butter, chickpeas and couscous with chicken flavoring, cereal, waffles, random snacking, and a trip to the produce lady for something to eat this pasta with. And sweet, sweet crackers. Just watch out, though, as soon as my George Foreman grill (bought for a mere $15) arrives, I'll be stocking up on family packs of chicken breasts and pork chops like mad! Break out the freezer bags, we're going to start shopping like it's 1998!*
*The year I got serious about not starving but still paying my phone bill.
OK, so I'm on a mission to eat everything in my house before I go out and buy anything more. I decided to take a mental inventory. I have a pretty good memory, so I don't think I've left anything out.
Freezer
half a box of potato and cheese pierogies
freezer pops from last summer that are too hard to open
coffee flavored frozen yogurt
whole grain Eggo waffles
ice
Fridge
Butter/margarine
milk, lactose free
eggs of dubious freshness (bought in December)
leftover baked beans, vegetarian
some pretty old whole grain bread
very small amount of leftover scalloped potatoes that should be trashed
applesauce... damn, I think I left it out on the counter this morning
two fat free Swiss Miss chocolate pudding cups
some old salsa
mustard of three varieties, horseradish, A1 sauce, sugar free marmalade, pickle relish, light mayo, worcestershire sauce, a very small amount of ketchup
(some nailpolish)
Cupboards
Garlic
salt, pepper, thyme, oregano, seasoned salt, Mrs. Dash (very old), chicken bouillion
Flour, sugar, baking powder, vanilla extract, green food coloring, red sugar
Pasta - small shells, ziti, whole wheat spaghetti (ick)
Some possibly stale frosted mini-wheats
A nearly empty bag of Hershey's kisses
Plain couscous
Cream of Wheat, instant
Oil - vegetable and olive
a can of chickpeas
two sleeves of saltines
3/4 of a jar of unsalted peanuts
some peanut butter I'm afraid to open
a banana that has to go soon
decaffeinated tea bags
(the can of Spam I got for my 21st birthday, not for eating)
The thing is, I should have eaten a lot of this stuff a long time ago, but I got lazy (and wanted flavor and substance), so I ordered out. In my future, I see a smoothie, some iced tea, pierogies in butter, chickpeas and couscous with chicken flavoring, cereal, waffles, random snacking, and a trip to the produce lady for something to eat this pasta with. And sweet, sweet crackers. Just watch out, though, as soon as my George Foreman grill (bought for a mere $15) arrives, I'll be stocking up on family packs of chicken breasts and pork chops like mad! Break out the freezer bags, we're going to start shopping like it's 1998!*
*The year I got serious about not starving but still paying my phone bill.
What News?
Yeah, I know, you miss my daily commentary on what's going on in the papers, but I can't bring myself to look at them. I don't know why. I go through phases. Which is precisely why I'll never be truly successful at any one thing. Maybe I am just the kind of person who talks about what she wants to do, but is too comfortable in her quasi-struggle to opt for a real struggle. Maybe I really just don't have what it takes, and subconsciously, I know that, so I stagnate. Maybe it's a true lack of any real creativity mixed with some stupid ability that I now wish I didn't have. Because maybe if I couldn't sing at all, I wouldn't care about that other world and I'd be happy in the one I'm in. I feel like I stand on the border of a world I really want to live in, but I won't step over because I don't know how I would live there. It's like the difference between dry land and the ocean. Sure, I can wade out, I can swim a little, but I sure as hell can't breathe underwater. And it seems like nothing I do can make me believe that I can. How do all those people do it? Do they know from a very young age? I knew from a very young age, but college changed all that. I chose a major that I could use instead of majoring in theater and maybe that's what made all the difference. I grew up in a certain way, not being able to understand how to be any other way. Anyone will tell you that I'm kind of set in my ways. How frustrating. I'm only 29, for goodness' sake. And I'm already 29 for goodness' sake!
Crap. I, I, I, I. Who the fuck cares?
Kingpin and Miracles are very promising. Sure, you expect the pilots to be good, but both second episodes were also engaging. Good midseason replacements. Make all the Sopranos and X-Files comparisons you want, there's nothing new under the sun, so just get over it. Besides, Kingpin is more like the movie Traffic and doesn't need as many swears.
Where's my freaking lunch?
Yeah, I know, you miss my daily commentary on what's going on in the papers, but I can't bring myself to look at them. I don't know why. I go through phases. Which is precisely why I'll never be truly successful at any one thing. Maybe I am just the kind of person who talks about what she wants to do, but is too comfortable in her quasi-struggle to opt for a real struggle. Maybe I really just don't have what it takes, and subconsciously, I know that, so I stagnate. Maybe it's a true lack of any real creativity mixed with some stupid ability that I now wish I didn't have. Because maybe if I couldn't sing at all, I wouldn't care about that other world and I'd be happy in the one I'm in. I feel like I stand on the border of a world I really want to live in, but I won't step over because I don't know how I would live there. It's like the difference between dry land and the ocean. Sure, I can wade out, I can swim a little, but I sure as hell can't breathe underwater. And it seems like nothing I do can make me believe that I can. How do all those people do it? Do they know from a very young age? I knew from a very young age, but college changed all that. I chose a major that I could use instead of majoring in theater and maybe that's what made all the difference. I grew up in a certain way, not being able to understand how to be any other way. Anyone will tell you that I'm kind of set in my ways. How frustrating. I'm only 29, for goodness' sake. And I'm already 29 for goodness' sake!
Crap. I, I, I, I. Who the fuck cares?
Kingpin and Miracles are very promising. Sure, you expect the pilots to be good, but both second episodes were also engaging. Good midseason replacements. Make all the Sopranos and X-Files comparisons you want, there's nothing new under the sun, so just get over it. Besides, Kingpin is more like the movie Traffic and doesn't need as many swears.
Where's my freaking lunch?
Tuesday, February 04, 2003
Ouch
Kids, don't be like me. Don't try to scrub out your blender while the blade is still in it.
In other news, I had a delicious coffee/banana smoothie this morning. And still got to work on time! The new trick is using a sheet and light blanket rather than the super comfy duvet of champions to prevent prolonged snoozing. Sure, I'm not as pleasant when I get up, but I get up. My kingdom for the balls to quit my job!
And I have to say this, because I bitched about NASA last week: My bad vibes did not crash the space shuttle. Very sad occurrence, but don't airplanes crash all the time? It seems like NASA has a pretty good record compared to the commercial airline industry. Regardless, listening to astronauts talk about it, it seems that they are very aware of possible risks and willing to take those risks. So, even though it's sad that they died, space travel is and should be considered dangerous. It's not like going to a picnic and then spontaneously combusting. Also, I get the creeps when I hear crying memorial-goers (you know, the ones who don't actually know the crew but love the cult of grief) saying the crew "sacrificed for the country." Well. I'd say more like they sacrificed for science and discovery, but what do I know? The space program isn't a nationalist thing anymore, sweetheart. We even work with the Russkies now, dontcha know.
Kids, don't be like me. Don't try to scrub out your blender while the blade is still in it.
In other news, I had a delicious coffee/banana smoothie this morning. And still got to work on time! The new trick is using a sheet and light blanket rather than the super comfy duvet of champions to prevent prolonged snoozing. Sure, I'm not as pleasant when I get up, but I get up. My kingdom for the balls to quit my job!
And I have to say this, because I bitched about NASA last week: My bad vibes did not crash the space shuttle. Very sad occurrence, but don't airplanes crash all the time? It seems like NASA has a pretty good record compared to the commercial airline industry. Regardless, listening to astronauts talk about it, it seems that they are very aware of possible risks and willing to take those risks. So, even though it's sad that they died, space travel is and should be considered dangerous. It's not like going to a picnic and then spontaneously combusting. Also, I get the creeps when I hear crying memorial-goers (you know, the ones who don't actually know the crew but love the cult of grief) saying the crew "sacrificed for the country." Well. I'd say more like they sacrificed for science and discovery, but what do I know? The space program isn't a nationalist thing anymore, sweetheart. We even work with the Russkies now, dontcha know.
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