Today is my nephew's birthday. It's not easy for me to shop for boys, but I think I kicked ass this year. I bought him this splendiforous object d'art to adorn his room(did NOT pay $30. for it, please let the record show), and this very apropos tee. And then I got him a used XBox 360 game at Newbury Comics. The kid LOVES football, and even when he's couch taterin' it and engrossed in a video game, 9 times outta 10, he's playing Madden. So I wasn't sure that he'd take to any alternative. But I thought WWE Legends of WrestleMania looked ALL SORTS OF AWESOME, and so I snatched it up for him. He started playing it right off, so perhaps it was a good call. And it's a much, MUCH better spectator video game than Madden (ZZzzz).
I was watching Seth play it this afternoon and I was reminded of how much I used to dig Hulk Hogan's Rock 'n' Wrestling Saturday a.m. cartoon as a young lassie. If wrestling was as spectacularly campy today as it was circa 1985, then I just might deign to watch it. Now there's no kilted loudmouths, or junkyard dogs, or pig-toting hillbillies. Yawwwwn...now they're all just interchangeable badass types. I definitely was more into the characters/WWF mythos than I was into the actual wrestling.
So during this reverie, I recalled some dude always saying "Pencil-neck geek" which is such a funny go-to epithet. Like you're trying to be menacing (I presume) and convey that you're furious and you call someone. . .a geek? Oh no..my bad...that's a pencil-neck geek. Well, that's waaay more scathing. I really ought not criticize, because when I was a kidd-o, (probably until about the age of 6 or 7) my very worst name for me to fling at someone who enraged me was..."stool pigeon" For reals. THAT was my heavy artillery. I don't even know where I got that. WTF-- was I watching Jimmy Cagney movies or something???
Upon returning from Seth's birthday bash, I hastened to the computer to hit up YouTube. I remember the pencil neck geek guy (this was Classy Fred Blassie I've since rediscovered) working it into a song. I remember it verbatim "I'LL SMASH YOU WITH MY CANE, YOU PENCIL-NECK GEEK!!"
I found just what I was after. I just know there was repeated viewings of this in my formative years, because so much of it besides just the pencil neck geek part was oh-so familiar.
This cracks my shit up. I just love it. (my embed be actin' all whack so I shall also provide A LINK to the object of my amusement...my immense amusement) My next mission is to track down a transcript, because I'm curious-- is the Russian character actually saying real words? It just sounds like nonsensical jibba-jabba. Of course nonsensical jibba-jabba and WWF faux Russian are quite possibly the same thing.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
I'm sad.Send moolah.
Bah... I'm in a foul mood. Certainly not a "black" mood but I've found myself in...I guess one would say..."the doldrums"
I sense my car is near death*. And it's made me philosophical... well, maybe I should choose the adjective "contemplative". "Philosophical" may be putting too grand a spin on it. I mean, did the great philosophers expend a lot of time & great philosophizing on the subject of finances? Philosophy101 is soooo far in my rear view, I honestly can't say. I remember I had a smallish crush on my professor and that's about all I can recollect. Which triggers another recurring worry of mine-- that my mental retention is not what it ought to be. But that's a tangential stressor...my main focus these days being MONEY. That's right: I've got my mind on my money and my money on my mind. Or lack thereof as the case seems to be. I've got my lack of a mind on my lack of money and my lack of money on my lacking mind. FECK.
I sometimes really do get the feeling that money--a nice, sudden, influx of excessive fundage-- would solve all my problems. Rationally, I know it wouldn't solve EVERYTHING. But, dammit, it feels like it would. And let's be real-- it sure wouldn't hurt. I think those people in the "Money can't buy happiness" camp are rather simplistic. Money could at least rent happiness. And that's better than no happiness at all, right? Hey, I don't need to be OBSCENELY RICH (though I can't imagine I'd hate it) I would just like to have enough so that issues like this one with my P.O.S. car didn't loom as this GIANT FUCKING IMPEDIMENT in my mind. Another thing that would be nice would be the ability to travel and not have to mete out just the exact number of ETO days you can afford to take, and not have to dick around with debates like-- lemme see, will I save more money at the Days Inn or the Super 8? If I get a room with a fridge, I can stock it with eats and save money by only dining out for one meal... Sure, there can be a certain thrill to being thrifty, but I imagine you get more of a kick out of it if you really don't *have* to be.
On the other hand, I am not destitute, and my annoying poindexter of a superego is piping up to say "At lot of people are worse off than you!!" Aforesaid superego also wants to point out that my $$ woes are only about 50% attributable to the shitty wage I pull in...the other 50%, I'm sure is due to my own calamitous style of financial planning. And I use the word "planning" VERY loosely in this instance. So all these important points duly noted...but that said ....
My id & ego just want MORE MONEY so it looks like my inner Jiminy Cricket is outnumbered, 2 to 1. I need to shop around for a 2nd job. I'm going to fall into that Catch 22 of having enough money but no time to enjoy it vs conversely, having the time...and no $$ to do anything. Is that a proper Catch 22 ?? I'm sure I learned all about the catch 22 at some point, but the definition has since escaped my sieve-like noggin. Oh, then there's finding that second job and then having no way to get there...which I realize is not a Catch 22....'tis just a downright PISSAH.
* specifics of my car ills- the check engine light popped on. Which I'm apt to be dismissive of ...but the car does feel to me like it's...I dunno...draggy. Like something is stepping on its tail...like it's going uphill all the time... but then I wonder if I'm really sensing the car is driving oddly or if the glow of the check engine light is causing me to imagine it. If the car *is* effed up, I ought not sink more $$ into the heap, I should just find a new car. (but uhhh, see post above re: obstructions to that scheme) I need to find a car that is little to no maintenance (and I mean preventative maintenance too!!) and lasts me forever...which is not going to happen because there is no such car. So maybe if that is too much to ask, how about a car that can specifically tell you WTF is the matter with it? I do believe Modern Science promised us fecking flying Jetson cars by the year 2010, the least they could do toward that end is give us autos that don't have totally nebulous warning lights. I mean, your check engine light comes on, and it could be one of ohhhhh, 3,000 different maladies. But then you take it to Auto Zone, where they can hook up one of their little pocket protecter computers to somewhereabouts under your dash and it burps forth a code. So the car--that sadistic shitass car-- *does* have a more specific idea of what is ailing it!! So why can't we get more specific indicator lights? But nooooo, for 50+ years we have the same, not overly helpful, alarmist set of indicator lights. And I am presently plagued by the worst of them all, which does the equivalent of yelling "AAAAAAAGH! YOUR ENGINE!" Which is especially vexing, since some of the times, the boo boo is not even in the vicinity of the sonofabitchin' engine.
KITT. I need KITT. If David Hasslehoff has custody, there may be hope. Y'know, I happen to have a coupon for $1 . off one Wendy's Baconator in my email inbox....so..you know... perhaps a barter...
I sense my car is near death*. And it's made me philosophical... well, maybe I should choose the adjective "contemplative". "Philosophical" may be putting too grand a spin on it. I mean, did the great philosophers expend a lot of time & great philosophizing on the subject of finances? Philosophy101 is soooo far in my rear view, I honestly can't say. I remember I had a smallish crush on my professor and that's about all I can recollect. Which triggers another recurring worry of mine-- that my mental retention is not what it ought to be. But that's a tangential stressor...my main focus these days being MONEY. That's right: I've got my mind on my money and my money on my mind. Or lack thereof as the case seems to be. I've got my lack of a mind on my lack of money and my lack of money on my lacking mind. FECK.
I sometimes really do get the feeling that money--a nice, sudden, influx of excessive fundage-- would solve all my problems. Rationally, I know it wouldn't solve EVERYTHING. But, dammit, it feels like it would. And let's be real-- it sure wouldn't hurt. I think those people in the "Money can't buy happiness" camp are rather simplistic. Money could at least rent happiness. And that's better than no happiness at all, right? Hey, I don't need to be OBSCENELY RICH (though I can't imagine I'd hate it) I would just like to have enough so that issues like this one with my P.O.S. car didn't loom as this GIANT FUCKING IMPEDIMENT in my mind. Another thing that would be nice would be the ability to travel and not have to mete out just the exact number of ETO days you can afford to take, and not have to dick around with debates like-- lemme see, will I save more money at the Days Inn or the Super 8? If I get a room with a fridge, I can stock it with eats and save money by only dining out for one meal... Sure, there can be a certain thrill to being thrifty, but I imagine you get more of a kick out of it if you really don't *have* to be.
On the other hand, I am not destitute, and my annoying poindexter of a superego is piping up to say "At lot of people are worse off than you!!" Aforesaid superego also wants to point out that my $$ woes are only about 50% attributable to the shitty wage I pull in...the other 50%, I'm sure is due to my own calamitous style of financial planning. And I use the word "planning" VERY loosely in this instance. So all these important points duly noted...but that said ....
My id & ego just want MORE MONEY so it looks like my inner Jiminy Cricket is outnumbered, 2 to 1. I need to shop around for a 2nd job. I'm going to fall into that Catch 22 of having enough money but no time to enjoy it vs conversely, having the time...and no $$ to do anything. Is that a proper Catch 22 ?? I'm sure I learned all about the catch 22 at some point, but the definition has since escaped my sieve-like noggin. Oh, then there's finding that second job and then having no way to get there...which I realize is not a Catch 22....'tis just a downright PISSAH.
* specifics of my car ills- the check engine light popped on. Which I'm apt to be dismissive of ...but the car does feel to me like it's...I dunno...draggy. Like something is stepping on its tail...like it's going uphill all the time... but then I wonder if I'm really sensing the car is driving oddly or if the glow of the check engine light is causing me to imagine it. If the car *is* effed up, I ought not sink more $$ into the heap, I should just find a new car. (but uhhh, see post above re: obstructions to that scheme) I need to find a car that is little to no maintenance (and I mean preventative maintenance too!!) and lasts me forever...which is not going to happen because there is no such car. So maybe if that is too much to ask, how about a car that can specifically tell you WTF is the matter with it? I do believe Modern Science promised us fecking flying Jetson cars by the year 2010, the least they could do toward that end is give us autos that don't have totally nebulous warning lights. I mean, your check engine light comes on, and it could be one of ohhhhh, 3,000 different maladies. But then you take it to Auto Zone, where they can hook up one of their little pocket protecter computers to somewhereabouts under your dash and it burps forth a code. So the car--that sadistic shitass car-- *does* have a more specific idea of what is ailing it!! So why can't we get more specific indicator lights? But nooooo, for 50+ years we have the same, not overly helpful, alarmist set of indicator lights. And I am presently plagued by the worst of them all, which does the equivalent of yelling "AAAAAAAGH! YOUR ENGINE!" Which is especially vexing, since some of the times, the boo boo is not even in the vicinity of the sonofabitchin' engine.
KITT. I need KITT. If David Hasslehoff has custody, there may be hope. Y'know, I happen to have a coupon for $1 . off one Wendy's Baconator in my email inbox....so..you know... perhaps a barter...
Friday, January 22, 2010
super WOOL!!
I got Lucy this Superhero Starter Kit for Christmas and I had to film her getting some use out of it.
bimbo bus
I dunno that I've ever mentioned it, but my office shares a building with a bar. The prestigious (haa) Benning St Bar & Grille/ Electra takes up the front of our building and the VNA offices are ‘round back.
Anyways…I mention this cuz…guess what was parked in the parking lot today? A giant tour bus. Not just *any* giant tour bus—the GIRLS GONE WILD tour bus.
Word on the street (Benning Street, anyhow) is that they're patronizing Electra tonight & tomorrow night. I am soooooome miffed! I had no idea they was coming. Grrrr…what’s the point of my subscribing to the GGW e-newsletter if it’s not gonna get me the advance 411 on such happenin’s?? Had I known the bus was on its way to my 'hood I would have taken care of some overdue pit-scaping. I mean, I can’t very well shed my shirt on camera and then not commence to “raise da roof”--am I right? I mean, shirtless and arms crossed = big time mixed signals. I suppose I could do, side-to-side hillbilly elbows. But with the mid-size shrubberies I’ve got sprouting ‘neath my arms—absolutely *no* roof raising or fist-pumping.
Humiliation would surely ensue.
Anyways…I mention this cuz…guess what was parked in the parking lot today? A giant tour bus. Not just *any* giant tour bus—the GIRLS GONE WILD tour bus.
Word on the street (Benning Street, anyhow) is that they're patronizing Electra tonight & tomorrow night. I am soooooome miffed! I had no idea they was coming. Grrrr…what’s the point of my subscribing to the GGW e-newsletter if it’s not gonna get me the advance 411 on such happenin’s?? Had I known the bus was on its way to my 'hood I would have taken care of some overdue pit-scaping. I mean, I can’t very well shed my shirt on camera and then not commence to “raise da roof”--am I right? I mean, shirtless and arms crossed = big time mixed signals. I suppose I could do, side-to-side hillbilly elbows. But with the mid-size shrubberies I’ve got sprouting ‘neath my arms—absolutely *no* roof raising or fist-pumping.
Humiliation would surely ensue.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
flour power
Back in mid-December (the 16th, if ya wanna be specific about it) my boss decided that our office was participating in an area Adopt-a-Family program, wherein your organization gets the specs on an area family in need (ages, genders, clothing sizes, wants, needs, etc.) and they buy Christmas gifts for them. Well because this drive fell under “clerical odd jobs” and everything in that category invariably falls to me, I ended up organizing the thing. And I didn’t really mind, as it was a fun job and quite a switcheroo from the mind numbing crud I usually get saddled with. I was a bit perturbed that Cathy launched the whole thing so belatedly (Dec 16th? That’s pretty shabby) but overall, I was cool with it.
So the day arrived for the pick-up of the gifts and me and a coupla folks from the Development Dept (it feels hokey to call them “Development” , as they’ve dubbed their crew. I’m always compelled to call them “Marketing” which is what they truly are) wrapped everything. Gaye (head of "Development") insisted we get photographed next to the mountain o' gifts wielding our rolls of wrapping paper (but of course she spins it into a photo op...that's her whole niche in the agency) Now that I wasn't overly thrilled about...not a big fan of getting my photo snapped, but I sucked it up and thought-- whatev..one of the pics she's going to schlep around to her please-support-the-VNA community outreach fetes that *I* will never have to see so what do I give a damn?
Well today she emailed the photo agency-wide. BARF. I sorta have myself to blame, though my instigation was *completely* inadvertant. I received in the mail a thank-you letter from the Adopt-a-Family program that expressed appreciation and also gave some results ie: how many gifts amassed, how many area families helped, etc. And so I scanned said letter and emailed it to everyone with reiterant "Thank you to all who participated" (actually it was a skoach more eloquently put, but I did manage some semblance of brevity believe it or no) And I guess that reminded Gaye of the photos she had taken, because mere minutes later her email went out.
Okay, it's bad enough that I looked HORRID. I was annoyed at having my photo taken (that's a given) and so I'm doing this awful transparent straining-to-be-civil smile (I have always been crap at smiling on cue ) Secondly, I'd just wrapped about a hundred presents and my updo was half fallen down. The real piece de resistance though was that fluorescent overhead lighting+ an unnecessary flash made it starkly apparent that I hadn't paid much attention to blending when I did my make up that morning. I had some sort of blemish fest on my face at the time (broken out in "spots" as the Limeys so cutely put it) and what I'd done was slapped some concealer over it and in my ill -lit bathroom I couldn't see how NOT blended it was and/or my coffee deprived brain didn't perceive it and/or I just had to smack that snooze button an extra time or three and was consequently running late that morning and didn't give a flying feck. Probably that last one, if I know me. You know, if I am going somewhere *important* and I have imperfections to mask, there's a whole time intensive, multi-layer spackling job I do but for work I just DON'T try that hard, aesthetically speaking (as I've made abundantly clear in this blog) Plus, I had no advance notice that I was going to be photographed that day either.
So yeah, short story long--I'm in this pic looking utterly hagged out and I have a bizarre white patch on my lower cheek, jawbone region. It was really pale flesh tone, but reads white in the fluorescent lights + camera flash atmosphere. So one of my coworkers--obnoxious bitch that she is--quickly emails me: " Did you have something with flour on it for lunch? LOL" Bloody hell... I have a general aversion to "LOL" to begin with, and then you get some people who overuse it to a redonkulous degree. This Amy is one of those. But obviously my biggest qualm with her is that she just HAD to point that out to me. When you get a publicly distributed photo of someone, where something is quite evidently jacked up about that someone's FACE, the humane thing to do is act like you never saw the picture. Obviously. Why must I always be the arbiter of proper decorum? Geeeez! Ok, so I feel a smidge guilty calling her an "obnoxious bitch". That's a tad strong, but the "obnoxious " part of it is right on the money.
I emailed back to her " I hadn’t had lunch at that point. Although I was somewhat discolored and disheveled from doing a faceplant in that pile of coke (I needed a li’l “picker-upper” to help me dispatch with my elving more expeditiously, y’know…) Yep, you shoulda helped out…it was a big drug orgy….good times. " Of course I wasn't going to cop to fucking up at mon toilette!!
Her response? "LOL"
Oh, you're "laughing out loud" now girl, but you gon' be laughing out tha otha side o' your face iffin you don't shut the hell up soon...
So the day arrived for the pick-up of the gifts and me and a coupla folks from the Development Dept (it feels hokey to call them “Development” , as they’ve dubbed their crew. I’m always compelled to call them “Marketing” which is what they truly are) wrapped everything. Gaye (head of "Development") insisted we get photographed next to the mountain o' gifts wielding our rolls of wrapping paper (but of course she spins it into a photo op...that's her whole niche in the agency) Now that I wasn't overly thrilled about...not a big fan of getting my photo snapped, but I sucked it up and thought-- whatev..one of the pics she's going to schlep around to her please-support-the-VNA community outreach fetes that *I* will never have to see so what do I give a damn?
Well today she emailed the photo agency-wide. BARF. I sorta have myself to blame, though my instigation was *completely* inadvertant. I received in the mail a thank-you letter from the Adopt-a-Family program that expressed appreciation and also gave some results ie: how many gifts amassed, how many area families helped, etc. And so I scanned said letter and emailed it to everyone with reiterant "Thank you to all who participated" (actually it was a skoach more eloquently put, but I did manage some semblance of brevity believe it or no) And I guess that reminded Gaye of the photos she had taken, because mere minutes later her email went out.
Okay, it's bad enough that I looked HORRID. I was annoyed at having my photo taken (that's a given) and so I'm doing this awful transparent straining-to-be-civil smile (I have always been crap at smiling on cue ) Secondly, I'd just wrapped about a hundred presents and my updo was half fallen down. The real piece de resistance though was that fluorescent overhead lighting+ an unnecessary flash made it starkly apparent that I hadn't paid much attention to blending when I did my make up that morning. I had some sort of blemish fest on my face at the time (broken out in "spots" as the Limeys so cutely put it) and what I'd done was slapped some concealer over it and in my ill -lit bathroom I couldn't see how NOT blended it was and/or my coffee deprived brain didn't perceive it and/or I just had to smack that snooze button an extra time or three and was consequently running late that morning and didn't give a flying feck. Probably that last one, if I know me. You know, if I am going somewhere *important* and I have imperfections to mask, there's a whole time intensive, multi-layer spackling job I do but for work I just DON'T try that hard, aesthetically speaking (as I've made abundantly clear in this blog) Plus, I had no advance notice that I was going to be photographed that day either.
So yeah, short story long--I'm in this pic looking utterly hagged out and I have a bizarre white patch on my lower cheek, jawbone region. It was really pale flesh tone, but reads white in the fluorescent lights + camera flash atmosphere. So one of my coworkers--obnoxious bitch that she is--quickly emails me: " Did you have something with flour on it for lunch? LOL" Bloody hell... I have a general aversion to "LOL" to begin with, and then you get some people who overuse it to a redonkulous degree. This Amy is one of those. But obviously my biggest qualm with her is that she just HAD to point that out to me. When you get a publicly distributed photo of someone, where something is quite evidently jacked up about that someone's FACE, the humane thing to do is act like you never saw the picture. Obviously. Why must I always be the arbiter of proper decorum? Geeeez! Ok, so I feel a smidge guilty calling her an "obnoxious bitch". That's a tad strong, but the "obnoxious " part of it is right on the money.
I emailed back to her " I hadn’t had lunch at that point. Although I was somewhat discolored and disheveled from doing a faceplant in that pile of coke (I needed a li’l “picker-upper” to help me dispatch with my elving more expeditiously, y’know…) Yep, you shoulda helped out…it was a big drug orgy….good times. " Of course I wasn't going to cop to fucking up at mon toilette!!
Her response? "LOL"
Oh, you're "laughing out loud" now girl, but you gon' be laughing out tha otha side o' your face iffin you don't shut the hell up soon...
Friday, January 15, 2010
Guily Pleasure TV
I think I'm on record with my oft-disparaging attitude toward reality TV. And so, I really can't tell you WHY I make an exception and just adore both High School Reunion (watched the season3 premiere on Wednesday night--stayed up waaay too damn late, but I HAD to see it) and Project Runway (am kinda bummed that I missed that season premiere somehow...but I think PR eps are available thru the Lifetime website ...or Comcast On Demand. So I will undoubtedly catch up. Expect a PR-themed post@ that time).
Obviously this new HSR season is going to echo seasons 1 & 2, they keep mining these alum classes for the same archetypes : "the jock" "the outcast" etc. etc. Even though I know it's a quite deliberate formula, my mind keeps making parallels to season 2 & even season 1 sometimes. They do seem to be kicking it up a notch with some of their characters . Take their "bully" figure...Jason in season 1 was truly a poor excuse for a bully. He apparently had a history of bullying some nerd back in the day, but 20 yr reunion Jason was an innocuous meathead. And he apologized instantaneously, right at his detention. Then season 2 gave us Dennis...he was overtly obnoxious and required a small measure of reforming . So, a bit more of a story arc there-- it took 1 or 2 episodes to chip away his facade and expose his inner marshmallowiness. But the current incarnation--John--yyyikes. Like I said, they keep stepping it up... John makes Dennis look like Mr Rogers. What a colossal asshole!!
And I must give credit to his detention-mate Eric for dispelling, for this viewer, some tired old stereotypical misconceptions I didn't realize I held. I think "gay guy" and I imagine some impeccable Beau Brummel, arbiter of taste, guru of good grooming. But my idealized gay guy would never, EVER, sport that hair-do that Eric has.... and never, ever, *EVER* on national TV. Ok, sarcastic snipes at the guy's vile coiff out of the way, I genuinely do commend him for taking John's insistent asshattedness so very graciously. One thing that irked me about the whole Dennis fracas from last season is that when he was a rowdy, insensitive lout several alums really blew it outta proportion and acted like he stabbed someone or something monstrous. Eric maintained his sangfroid pretty admirably (a lot better than Tracy did, that's for sure).
Oh, in other bad hair news...Antanus. Dreads. Yuck. Can you REALLY be a "player" in dreads? Or maybe they're Stevie Wonder circa 1985 braids...but still. Seems incongruous to me, but I guess it's possible.
Rachelle is this season's Maricela... not really a stepped-up version either. YAWN. Also Jodi & Joe seem very familiar (Kara & Tom redux) although it seems pretty clear from previews that Joe is going to opt to NOT re-hit that. Whereas I believe last season left Kara & Tom on a "maybe?"note (even though I could tell the reunion was not gonna take).
They rather stepped up the bimbo element... not only is there a pair of them this season, but the Summer Girls are MEAN whereas poor Jessica was merely vapid .OK, so she was, incredibly, painfully vapid. And a little bit barmy. But I'd still rather have her at my reunion than the Summers. Oh, I would SO wanna throttle those bitches!! It was funny how, at the outset, Lisette was interviewed and mentions "I want to show my classmates that I was more than just hot & popular" or something like that. It was sort of cocky and stupid thing to say, but at its core, a noble sentiment. And then Elena came. And the two glommed onto each other and reverted back to behaviors of yore. Pretty interesting, from a sociological standpoint.
Cyndi, the nuevo-Liz, has one up on Liz, because Liz didn't have a racy post-h.s. gig to shock everyone with. I'm surprised they tipped the Cyndi, ex-stripper hand so early on in the season. Makes me think that they've got something REAL BIG in the hopper. Well, if season previews are to be believed, there's gonna be like, 3 or 4 weddings. Insane. I think that's just overkill...they're shooting for "sensational season", but landing in "hokey, contrived" territory.
Well, I'm starting to bore myself with this, so let me just sum up the rest of the cast with bullet points--
*Tracy B.-- mildly annoying. I guess overall I like her, but the way she's all excessively pissed at John , and yes he IS an asshole, but she was so preachy about it. And towards Eric...there was a *big show*of empathy. She's trying too hard...I think that's what it is about her that annoys. For me, she is the season 3 equivalent of season 2's class clown Scott.
The one thing I do find intriguing about her (thus far) is that inclusion of her last initial. It moves me to ponder when the other Tracy is showing up. And if she'll be less annoying.
*Lori-- looks quite a bit like a physical therapist I work with. That may unfairly prejudice me against her.
Ok, that's all the junk TV I'm going to prattle on about until the next HSR episode...or until I catch the Project Runway season premiere...whichever comes first.
Obviously this new HSR season is going to echo seasons 1 & 2, they keep mining these alum classes for the same archetypes : "the jock" "the outcast" etc. etc. Even though I know it's a quite deliberate formula, my mind keeps making parallels to season 2 & even season 1 sometimes. They do seem to be kicking it up a notch with some of their characters . Take their "bully" figure...Jason in season 1 was truly a poor excuse for a bully. He apparently had a history of bullying some nerd back in the day, but 20 yr reunion Jason was an innocuous meathead. And he apologized instantaneously, right at his detention. Then season 2 gave us Dennis...he was overtly obnoxious and required a small measure of reforming . So, a bit more of a story arc there-- it took 1 or 2 episodes to chip away his facade and expose his inner marshmallowiness. But the current incarnation--John--yyyikes. Like I said, they keep stepping it up... John makes Dennis look like Mr Rogers. What a colossal asshole!!
And I must give credit to his detention-mate Eric for dispelling, for this viewer, some tired old stereotypical misconceptions I didn't realize I held. I think "gay guy" and I imagine some impeccable Beau Brummel, arbiter of taste, guru of good grooming. But my idealized gay guy would never, EVER, sport that hair-do that Eric has.... and never, ever, *EVER* on national TV. Ok, sarcastic snipes at the guy's vile coiff out of the way, I genuinely do commend him for taking John's insistent asshattedness so very graciously. One thing that irked me about the whole Dennis fracas from last season is that when he was a rowdy, insensitive lout several alums really blew it outta proportion and acted like he stabbed someone or something monstrous. Eric maintained his sangfroid pretty admirably (a lot better than Tracy did, that's for sure).
Oh, in other bad hair news...Antanus. Dreads. Yuck. Can you REALLY be a "player" in dreads? Or maybe they're Stevie Wonder circa 1985 braids...but still. Seems incongruous to me, but I guess it's possible.
Rachelle is this season's Maricela... not really a stepped-up version either. YAWN. Also Jodi & Joe seem very familiar (Kara & Tom redux) although it seems pretty clear from previews that Joe is going to opt to NOT re-hit that. Whereas I believe last season left Kara & Tom on a "maybe?"note (even though I could tell the reunion was not gonna take).
They rather stepped up the bimbo element... not only is there a pair of them this season, but the Summer Girls are MEAN whereas poor Jessica was merely vapid .OK, so she was, incredibly, painfully vapid. And a little bit barmy. But I'd still rather have her at my reunion than the Summers. Oh, I would SO wanna throttle those bitches!! It was funny how, at the outset, Lisette was interviewed and mentions "I want to show my classmates that I was more than just hot & popular" or something like that. It was sort of cocky and stupid thing to say, but at its core, a noble sentiment. And then Elena came. And the two glommed onto each other and reverted back to behaviors of yore. Pretty interesting, from a sociological standpoint.
Cyndi, the nuevo-Liz, has one up on Liz, because Liz didn't have a racy post-h.s. gig to shock everyone with. I'm surprised they tipped the Cyndi, ex-stripper hand so early on in the season. Makes me think that they've got something REAL BIG in the hopper. Well, if season previews are to be believed, there's gonna be like, 3 or 4 weddings. Insane. I think that's just overkill...they're shooting for "sensational season", but landing in "hokey, contrived" territory.
Well, I'm starting to bore myself with this, so let me just sum up the rest of the cast with bullet points--
*Tracy B.-- mildly annoying. I guess overall I like her, but the way she's all excessively pissed at John , and yes he IS an asshole, but she was so preachy about it. And towards Eric...there was a *big show*of empathy. She's trying too hard...I think that's what it is about her that annoys. For me, she is the season 3 equivalent of season 2's class clown Scott.
The one thing I do find intriguing about her (thus far) is that inclusion of her last initial. It moves me to ponder when the other Tracy is showing up. And if she'll be less annoying.
*Lori-- looks quite a bit like a physical therapist I work with. That may unfairly prejudice me against her.
Ok, that's all the junk TV I'm going to prattle on about until the next HSR episode...or until I catch the Project Runway season premiere...whichever comes first.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
doodly doodly dooooooo....
We had a mandatory all-employee meeting today. For the most part, it’s a litany of line chart after bar graph after pie chart, etc. etc all about our financial well being and the budget. SNOOOOOZE. But still, I was hoping it would run for the whole 2 hrs allotted, because it’s only during these mandatory meetings that I can get any doodling accomplished. On a day-to-day basis, I’m too industrious (yuck.. how distasteful). As it was (the meeting run time clocked in at a mere 42 min) this is all I managed to do…
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
mark your calendars
I've blogged about it before , but I feel it bears repeating..
This coming Jan 15th marks the 91st anniversary of the Boston Molasses Disaster. Fear and respect the molasses!!
This coming Jan 15th marks the 91st anniversary of the Boston Molasses Disaster. Fear and respect the molasses!!
Conan, Leno, Tomayto, Tomahto...let's call the whole thing off.
I can't believe the kerfuffle over this whole Leno/ Conan/ NBC imbroglio. I would say I don't give a rat's ass, but because of the chance of it impacting Jimmy Fallon and his terrific 12:35am program, I do indeed give a rat's ass.
It's time to put Leno out to pasture, methinks. I've never really found him terribly amusing anyways. Though, as long as they leave Jimmy be, I don't really care what NBC decides.
It's time to put Leno out to pasture, methinks. I've never really found him terribly amusing anyways. Though, as long as they leave Jimmy be, I don't really care what NBC decides.
ponder fragments that clog the windmills of my mind
*the name "Mork"
Preexisting name? Or invented for the 70s sitcom Mork & Mindy?
Mork is one of those names that sounds like it must be short for something. Rationally, I *know* it's not really "Morkworth" or "Morkimer" but it feels abbreviated nevertheless.
*karate chop lethality
If a karate master can chop through a cinderblock, or 3 boards of hardwood (like I've not seen in person, but I'm sure I've seen it transpire on some footage from an old TV show...probably That's Incredible!) then can't someone with that level of karate prowess hiya-te chop* somebody's head off? I don't think they can. I'm 99.99999% positive they can't, actually. It's just that nobody's been able to adequately explicate to me why it can't be done.
NOT that I want to karate chop anyone's head off, of course.
*Baroque? Rococo? What's the dif, yo?
this is a new ponderance, actually. I've been a bit prone to contemplating architecture as of late (you mighta noticed). And so, when I had a credit in the used bookstore to use up, I spent some of it on Architecture Styles Spotter's Guide (came very close to buying Mervyn Peake's Gormenghast trilogy, but I have SO MUCH fiction in my possession, in my "to read " queue..) So, I've been reading this guide, trying to absorb some actual knowledge about architecture. (parenthetical tangent: I like the word "enthusiast"...it's a good word to describe me in regards to a number of things-- art, architecture, classical music..many, many more subjects. I get all fascinated, but have no more than a scant smattering of knowledge on any of 'em. "Enthusiast" though, is very apt, as inherently it only promises enthusiasm...no expertise) It's been pretty informative, overall, but I still can't distinguish between Baroque & Rococo very well. The book actually describes Rococo as "Baroque, but more so--"
That's not a big help.
*Red velvet flavor is____
What is red velvet? A melange of spices? It doesn't particularly taste like velvet to me (I oughtta know..I ingest a lot of various fabrics. Method acting study for a goat role, if you must know) Supposedly it's sort of chocolate--so sez wikipedia. But then wiki goes on to say "A Red velvet cake is a type of rich and sweet chocolate cake (though it is often made without chocolate flavoring)" Is a sweet chocolate cake made without chocolate flavoring rendered just a sweet cake? I don't think you can classify it as a chocolate cake in that case? That's one of those unclear clarifications like the whole Baroque/ Rococo thing.
*hiya-te chop is what my niece used to call it-- this is because ideally you make this fierce "HIIII-YA!" exclamation when you do said chop. So she turned it into this cute onomotopeiaic portmanteau thingie. My vocab is cluttered with all these adorable "niece-isms" that the nieces have dropped ages ago, but I haven't managed to. Like calling meatloaf "meepo" for instance.
Preexisting name? Or invented for the 70s sitcom Mork & Mindy?
Mork is one of those names that sounds like it must be short for something. Rationally, I *know* it's not really "Morkworth" or "Morkimer" but it feels abbreviated nevertheless.
*karate chop lethality
If a karate master can chop through a cinderblock, or 3 boards of hardwood (like I've not seen in person, but I'm sure I've seen it transpire on some footage from an old TV show...probably That's Incredible!) then can't someone with that level of karate prowess hiya-te chop* somebody's head off? I don't think they can. I'm 99.99999% positive they can't, actually. It's just that nobody's been able to adequately explicate to me why it can't be done.
NOT that I want to karate chop anyone's head off, of course.
*Baroque? Rococo? What's the dif, yo?
this is a new ponderance, actually. I've been a bit prone to contemplating architecture as of late (you mighta noticed). And so, when I had a credit in the used bookstore to use up, I spent some of it on Architecture Styles Spotter's Guide (came very close to buying Mervyn Peake's Gormenghast trilogy, but I have SO MUCH fiction in my possession, in my "to read " queue..) So, I've been reading this guide, trying to absorb some actual knowledge about architecture. (parenthetical tangent: I like the word "enthusiast"...it's a good word to describe me in regards to a number of things-- art, architecture, classical music..many, many more subjects. I get all fascinated, but have no more than a scant smattering of knowledge on any of 'em. "Enthusiast" though, is very apt, as inherently it only promises enthusiasm...no expertise) It's been pretty informative, overall, but I still can't distinguish between Baroque & Rococo very well. The book actually describes Rococo as "Baroque, but more so--"
That's not a big help.
*Red velvet flavor is____
What is red velvet? A melange of spices? It doesn't particularly taste like velvet to me (I oughtta know..I ingest a lot of various fabrics. Method acting study for a goat role, if you must know) Supposedly it's sort of chocolate--so sez wikipedia. But then wiki goes on to say "A Red velvet cake is a type of rich and sweet chocolate cake (though it is often made without chocolate flavoring)" Is a sweet chocolate cake made without chocolate flavoring rendered just a sweet cake? I don't think you can classify it as a chocolate cake in that case? That's one of those unclear clarifications like the whole Baroque/ Rococo thing.
*hiya-te chop is what my niece used to call it-- this is because ideally you make this fierce "HIIII-YA!" exclamation when you do said chop. So she turned it into this cute onomotopeiaic portmanteau thingie. My vocab is cluttered with all these adorable "niece-isms" that the nieces have dropped ages ago, but I haven't managed to. Like calling meatloaf "meepo" for instance.
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Saturday, January 09, 2010
indecision...
Oh, maybe Clive & I should live in "The Manseigneur" in my dreams. I am charmed so by bungalows, but this one has a freakin' LIBRARY in it... my dream house would SO have a library.
The Buena Vista
I was killing time meandering about online tonight, and went to ask.com. I feel like Google is overrated. I mean, "google" has become the verb for doing an online search, just like "kleenex" is the commonly employed noun when anyone speaks of tissue--as if there were no other brands. Ok, there's not a very substantial link betwixt Kleenex & Google--only that they are giants in their fields. And I shouldn't have disparaged Google with an "overrated" when I actually don't have a problem with it. I think my primary usage of ask.com is just another way of "rootin' for the little guy", y'know? But I digress-- the merits of various search engines was not the intended point of this post.
I wanted to share this site. I did an ask.com search for "vintage house plans"--was not really expecting to find anything, but this site--the first search result that cropped up--was just what I was seeking. Scooooore!
Y'see once upon a time, on a lark, bought a slim reproduction of an early 20s house plan catalog. It was $3.99 amongst the Borders Bargains, so I bought it (I don't do expensive "larks" you know) And I found that I really dug it. I have subsequently looked in Borders for other books of the same type and it's either that they've got nothing or maybe they've got 1 or 2 that fit the bill but they're not in the Bargains corral and priced a bit steeper than I want to spend. I feel like, if I drop $25 on a house plans book, I should be planning on building a house and not just browsing through, pointing at different plans or features and saying "Ooh. Me likey" Which is--more or less-- what I do.
In the book I have, this particular company (they might have been Sears plans) named all their houses. I find it somehow 10x more charming when a cute little Tudor revival is "The Chatford" rather than "Plan No. 112" Don't you agree? It makes me imagine excited homeowners of the early 20th century referring to their new abode by the design name...y'know...Betty is giving a tour of the place during the housewarming party and tells Arlene "We very nearly went with the Hanover , but I just fell in love with the idea of a breakfast nook, so I talked Danny into the Chatford"
How idyllic, right??
I think tonight, I'm going to have lovely dreams about me living in the Buena Vista.. . . .
. . . .with Clive Owen
I wanted to share this site. I did an ask.com search for "vintage house plans"--was not really expecting to find anything, but this site--the first search result that cropped up--was just what I was seeking. Scooooore!
Y'see once upon a time, on a lark, bought a slim reproduction of an early 20s house plan catalog. It was $3.99 amongst the Borders Bargains, so I bought it (I don't do expensive "larks" you know) And I found that I really dug it. I have subsequently looked in Borders for other books of the same type and it's either that they've got nothing or maybe they've got 1 or 2 that fit the bill but they're not in the Bargains corral and priced a bit steeper than I want to spend. I feel like, if I drop $25 on a house plans book, I should be planning on building a house and not just browsing through, pointing at different plans or features and saying "Ooh. Me likey" Which is--more or less-- what I do.
In the book I have, this particular company (they might have been Sears plans) named all their houses. I find it somehow 10x more charming when a cute little Tudor revival is "The Chatford" rather than "Plan No. 112" Don't you agree? It makes me imagine excited homeowners of the early 20th century referring to their new abode by the design name...y'know...Betty is giving a tour of the place during the housewarming party and tells Arlene "We very nearly went with the Hanover , but I just fell in love with the idea of a breakfast nook, so I talked Danny into the Chatford"
How idyllic, right??
I think tonight, I'm going to have lovely dreams about me living in the Buena Vista.. . . .
. . . .with Clive Owen
Thursday, January 07, 2010
The knave abides.
I have yet to read this whole thing (and I may not) but I thought this was awesome nonetheless!! LOOOOVE IT.
Wednesday, January 06, 2010
Reason 974 that I should move to the UK
Mmmkay..so it will save us some time if you don't make me review the first 973 reasons, agreed?
Anyways...I was on Amazon, looking at preordering "Return to Cranford" ( I own Cranford and just luv it) which aired over there as a mid-December Christmas special but did not air on any channel on MY side of "the pond". As much as I love Fa-la-la-laLifetime, I am damned jealous!! Anyways, was perusing that DVD (which is getting an amazingly quick release!! Good on ya, BBC !!) and I spied amongst my recommendations something called "Lark Rise to Candleford" Crazy-ass name, but it looks pretty rad. I was a bit surprised to find this show is going into its 3rd season and I'd never before heard of it. I'm often on the prowl for such fare (in fact, on just such a prowl last month, I was stoked to discover this site and, despite its horribly schmaltzy name, this site)
It just bums me out that they get awesome shows like that over there, and US TV just churns out crap reality show after crap reality show. Conveyor Belt of Love? Are you f-ing joking??
Ok, I'm going to do a 180 here and be a HUGE hypocrite but...silver lining...the 2 reality shows I actually dig (the lone exceptions to my rule) are both premiering this month! Huzzah!! Next week is the 3rd incarnation of High School Reunion. And then on January 14--Project Runway! You know I never did watch the very last episode of last season, because I happened to hear who won and I loathe Irina's nasty bitchy guts and couldn't bear to bear witness to that.
Anyways...I was on Amazon, looking at preordering "Return to Cranford" ( I own Cranford and just luv it) which aired over there as a mid-December Christmas special but did not air on any channel on MY side of "the pond". As much as I love Fa-la-la-laLifetime, I am damned jealous!! Anyways, was perusing that DVD (which is getting an amazingly quick release!! Good on ya, BBC !!) and I spied amongst my recommendations something called "Lark Rise to Candleford" Crazy-ass name, but it looks pretty rad. I was a bit surprised to find this show is going into its 3rd season and I'd never before heard of it. I'm often on the prowl for such fare (in fact, on just such a prowl last month, I was stoked to discover this site and, despite its horribly schmaltzy name, this site)
It just bums me out that they get awesome shows like that over there, and US TV just churns out crap reality show after crap reality show. Conveyor Belt of Love? Are you f-ing joking??
Ok, I'm going to do a 180 here and be a HUGE hypocrite but...silver lining...the 2 reality shows I actually dig (the lone exceptions to my rule) are both premiering this month! Huzzah!! Next week is the 3rd incarnation of High School Reunion. And then on January 14--Project Runway! You know I never did watch the very last episode of last season, because I happened to hear who won and I loathe Irina's nasty bitchy guts and couldn't bear to bear witness to that.
Today is my Dad's B-day!!
Feliz cumpleanos mi padre!!
I went over to my folks' tonight even though tomorrow night has been designated big fam birthday dinner night. My bro-in-law has a 1/5 b-day, so it's gonna be a joint thing (but not with joints, you understand. decidedly NOT that sort of party) There were leftover baked beans to be had, and my Dad was opining that a baked bean sandwich was the best sandwich around. I stifled my dissent on account of it being his birthday or whatev, but I'll unstifle here in this forum : I SO DISAGREE.
I would eat such a sandwich actually (though not the way he likes 'em--he had me toast the wheat bread--that part was okay-- and spread the bread w/ Hellman's mayo. UGH. I think it would be just fine with NO condiments... or maybe mustard) but that's just a tremendous overstatement. In the pantheon of great sammies, "baked bean" doesn't even make the top 10. Am I right?? (brief aside--scope this neat-o website, kids: http://www.insanewiches.com/)
Well, wild overstatements aside, it was his birthday. So I stuck a birthday candle in his bean sandwich I made him and sang "Happy Birthday " as I served it. This strikes me as damn funny. Probably if I didn't know that he has a cake coming tomorrow it would just be sad and/or pathetic. But he will get a b-day cake, so my conscience allowed me to be amused by birthday bean sammich. I don't quite know WHAT I found so funny about it. Is it incongruity? Thwarting of expectations? I don't know what. Just a comedic je ne sais quoi , I guess. Sort of a je ne sais HAA. (wocka wocka) Wouldn't hafta be a bean sammie though. A birthday candle in a hotdog would also be funny...and funnier still if you called it a birthday frankfurt (no, "weener" is going for the cheap laff, and it's played out besides)
My Dad is weird. After he ate, he called up 2 of the guys he used to work with that he remembered had the same birthday as him --these are guys he's not seen since retiring 10 years ago, mind you. Just made out of the blue, happy birthday calls to these fellahs. He actually opened one phone call singing "Happy Birthday" (though I think the Beatles' birthday song woulda been more apropos) And then it was all--It's me, Art! What have you been up to? This is what I've been up to. Blah blah blah. Old anecdotes. Have you seen so & so? Yeah, I saw so & so two months ago. Have you seen this dude? That dude? How does he look? Yadda yadda yadda.
I would NOT do that. He is perfectly at ease cold-calling some semi-close acquaintance that he's not seen in a decade and chatting them up. That would seem weird to me. Partly I think- well shit, if you haven't made an effort to see them in 10 years there's probably a good reason, Sandra. But then my superego is all-- well that's sort of misanthropic and you shouldn't think that way. And that superego voice in me does kind of appreciate and maybe envy that quality in my Dad. I've always thought I was just the right amount of friendly, but maybe I'm not?
One of my work compadres wished his wife a big ol' HAPPY BIRTHDAY on his FB wall today. The wacky coincidence of it being both his wife's and my Dad's birthday (what are the chances? Pretty damned good, actually. Still, these things never cease to charm me) had me on wiki, seeking out who else was born on Jan 6th. Some exciting finds--
Danny Pintauro (Johnathan on Who's the Boss?) -- 1/6/1976
Rowan Atkinson (1/6/1955)
Vic Tayback 1/6/1930 (he played Mel on Alice; quick tangent-- I recall at my last job, we wiled away an afternoon debating which of us in the office was a Mel...who was the Flo, who was a Vera, etc. I think I wound up being Alice)
Another wacky b-day coinky-dinky that delighted me: Jan 6 is the birthday of both Bonnie Franklin (of One Day at a Time fame) and BEN FRANKLIN (of bifocals inventing and flying kites in T-storms fame)
I got kind of stumped when shopping for Dad's b-day. He's had his present bathrobe since the Reagan administration so I bought him a new robe. He'll probably think it frivolous since the old robe isn't quite threadbare. Still probably has another 10 years of use in it, eh? It may not be threadbare, but it's an UGLY thing. I hope he wears this new one I got him. Not only is it more aesthetically pleasing (black & green buffalo check) it's WARM and he's always wearing his bathrobe outdoors for one reason or another--to get the paper, or go out in the freezing garage to bring out recycling. It's nutty.
So once I selected the robe, I thought I should give him a little something else. So I thought...what little somethin' would go well with a robe?? Initially I thought : snacks!! A good thought, because snacks do go well with a robe and snacks are an easy, sure-fire man-gift. But one of my Dad's 2010 resolutions is to drop some lbs and that's deuced tough enough without my sabotaging him!! So I bought him a book. It's good to read in a robe, si? Maaaan, I must have stood in the Kmart book aisle a good 15 minutes debating: Jon Krakauer's "Into Thin Air" or Alice Sebold's "The Lovely Bones"? Lovely Bones or Thin Air? Air? Bones? Sebold? Krakauer? Thin? Lovely? I was RACKED WITH INDECISION, I tells ya. Krakauer looked like an obvious frontrunner, with the cover copy exclaiming "Ranks among the great adventure books of all time!!" (so sez the Wall Street Journal) But I opted for "Lovely Bones" because I skimmed just a teensy bit of "Into Thin Air" and thought that passage read very factually, like a piece of journalism and so I thought that might be a kinda dry read. And I believe the Lovely Bones has a heroic father figure in it, so I thought that might be a good pick for that reason. But I haven't read either and maybe I chose wrong. I do wonder if "Lovely Bones" is too much of a femme, Oprah-esque book for myDad. Though he did tell me once how much he liked the book "Little Women" so that probably won't be an issue.
I went over to my folks' tonight even though tomorrow night has been designated big fam birthday dinner night. My bro-in-law has a 1/5 b-day, so it's gonna be a joint thing (but not with joints, you understand. decidedly NOT that sort of party) There were leftover baked beans to be had, and my Dad was opining that a baked bean sandwich was the best sandwich around. I stifled my dissent on account of it being his birthday or whatev, but I'll unstifle here in this forum : I SO DISAGREE.
I would eat such a sandwich actually (though not the way he likes 'em--he had me toast the wheat bread--that part was okay-- and spread the bread w/ Hellman's mayo. UGH. I think it would be just fine with NO condiments... or maybe mustard) but that's just a tremendous overstatement. In the pantheon of great sammies, "baked bean" doesn't even make the top 10. Am I right?? (brief aside--scope this neat-o website, kids: http://www.insanewiches.com/)
Well, wild overstatements aside, it was his birthday. So I stuck a birthday candle in his bean sandwich I made him and sang "Happy Birthday " as I served it. This strikes me as damn funny. Probably if I didn't know that he has a cake coming tomorrow it would just be sad and/or pathetic. But he will get a b-day cake, so my conscience allowed me to be amused by birthday bean sammich. I don't quite know WHAT I found so funny about it. Is it incongruity? Thwarting of expectations? I don't know what. Just a comedic je ne sais quoi , I guess. Sort of a je ne sais HAA. (wocka wocka) Wouldn't hafta be a bean sammie though. A birthday candle in a hotdog would also be funny...and funnier still if you called it a birthday frankfurt (no, "weener" is going for the cheap laff, and it's played out besides)
My Dad is weird. After he ate, he called up 2 of the guys he used to work with that he remembered had the same birthday as him --these are guys he's not seen since retiring 10 years ago, mind you. Just made out of the blue, happy birthday calls to these fellahs. He actually opened one phone call singing "Happy Birthday" (though I think the Beatles' birthday song woulda been more apropos) And then it was all--It's me, Art! What have you been up to? This is what I've been up to. Blah blah blah. Old anecdotes. Have you seen so & so? Yeah, I saw so & so two months ago. Have you seen this dude? That dude? How does he look? Yadda yadda yadda.
I would NOT do that. He is perfectly at ease cold-calling some semi-close acquaintance that he's not seen in a decade and chatting them up. That would seem weird to me. Partly I think- well shit, if you haven't made an effort to see them in 10 years there's probably a good reason, Sandra. But then my superego is all-- well that's sort of misanthropic and you shouldn't think that way. And that superego voice in me does kind of appreciate and maybe envy that quality in my Dad. I've always thought I was just the right amount of friendly, but maybe I'm not?
One of my work compadres wished his wife a big ol' HAPPY BIRTHDAY on his FB wall today. The wacky coincidence of it being both his wife's and my Dad's birthday (what are the chances? Pretty damned good, actually. Still, these things never cease to charm me) had me on wiki, seeking out who else was born on Jan 6th. Some exciting finds--
Danny Pintauro (Johnathan on Who's the Boss?) -- 1/6/1976
Rowan Atkinson (1/6/1955)
Vic Tayback 1/6/1930 (he played Mel on Alice; quick tangent-- I recall at my last job, we wiled away an afternoon debating which of us in the office was a Mel...who was the Flo, who was a Vera, etc. I think I wound up being Alice)
Another wacky b-day coinky-dinky that delighted me: Jan 6 is the birthday of both Bonnie Franklin (of One Day at a Time fame) and BEN FRANKLIN (of bifocals inventing and flying kites in T-storms fame)
I got kind of stumped when shopping for Dad's b-day. He's had his present bathrobe since the Reagan administration so I bought him a new robe. He'll probably think it frivolous since the old robe isn't quite threadbare. Still probably has another 10 years of use in it, eh? It may not be threadbare, but it's an UGLY thing. I hope he wears this new one I got him. Not only is it more aesthetically pleasing (black & green buffalo check) it's WARM and he's always wearing his bathrobe outdoors for one reason or another--to get the paper, or go out in the freezing garage to bring out recycling. It's nutty.
So once I selected the robe, I thought I should give him a little something else. So I thought...what little somethin' would go well with a robe?? Initially I thought : snacks!! A good thought, because snacks do go well with a robe and snacks are an easy, sure-fire man-gift. But one of my Dad's 2010 resolutions is to drop some lbs and that's deuced tough enough without my sabotaging him!! So I bought him a book. It's good to read in a robe, si? Maaaan, I must have stood in the Kmart book aisle a good 15 minutes debating: Jon Krakauer's "Into Thin Air" or Alice Sebold's "The Lovely Bones"? Lovely Bones or Thin Air? Air? Bones? Sebold? Krakauer? Thin? Lovely? I was RACKED WITH INDECISION, I tells ya. Krakauer looked like an obvious frontrunner, with the cover copy exclaiming "Ranks among the great adventure books of all time!!" (so sez the Wall Street Journal) But I opted for "Lovely Bones" because I skimmed just a teensy bit of "Into Thin Air" and thought that passage read very factually, like a piece of journalism and so I thought that might be a kinda dry read. And I believe the Lovely Bones has a heroic father figure in it, so I thought that might be a good pick for that reason. But I haven't read either and maybe I chose wrong. I do wonder if "Lovely Bones" is too much of a femme, Oprah-esque book for myDad. Though he did tell me once how much he liked the book "Little Women" so that probably won't be an issue.
head gear
I received a couple of gift certs to Kohls this Christmas. Now, I have had a history of finding decent threads in there, but now that I have $$$ to burn, I can't seem to find a damn thing. Still, I couldn't leave there empty handed when I went this past Saturday so I got a cool bracelet, a necklace, & knit hat (all Vera Wang's Simply Vera line-- nice stuff, me likey)
So this hat I got-- kind of rad. It's sort of a touque-style hat--a loose black knit that you can see through the weave and see that inside the black knit is all silver sequins. Aw hell, why don't I just scrounge up a pic for y'all??
{several web scouring minutes later...}
It's really cuter in person, I assure you. Anyways, you can see it's not a tight beanie..it's got a bit of slouch to it. So, I've been wearing it sorta pushed back and to the left. And I've been wearing the hell out of it. The greeter at Walmart said it was cute and looked very good on me. And then as I donned it the other day to head out on my lunch break, one of my coworkers said it made me "look like a city girl". Now, I would have preferred the adjective "fetching" in the first scenario, and "metropolitan" in the latter, but that is not what either of them said, and I endeavor to report with the utmost accuracy, yes I do. Nevertheless, both remarks were complimentary and I was feeling pretty fine.
And then I caught a glimpse of myself in a big mirror. Well, really, I don't think the hat was the sole culprit, rather there was some awful sartorial chemistry going on with my coat-hat pairing. The coat may be the guiltier party --a long wool coat, trench style, black & white herringbone pattern, looks slightly stupid with its 2 big loopy belt loops hanging off the back of it when I have long since lost the belt. I'm a fan of long coats generally. I find them elegant (not dusters though...dusters are foul. I feel like primarily they are worn by weird neauvo-cowboys and plain ol' weird weirdos that keep weird journals that you better be on the lookout for. Hey, if you know of another ilk that favors dusters--please do enlighten me !) But I'm thinking that certain body types just need to find the absolute perfect long coat and maybe some should just totally avoid 'em. Anywhoodle...when I saw me in the mirror, 3 words flashed through my mind:
Oy vey!! So the moral of the story: believe your mirrors, NOT the hype. Unless you're consulting one of those 50x magnification make-up mirrors. Don't believe that kind!! I'm not saying they're dishonest mirrors, quite the contrary. But if you believe what those tell you, well...one is liable to have a lie-down on the train tracks and wait for the next express to flatten 'em. BRUTAL instruments, and I recommend shunning them altogether.
In other headgear news, I wore a turban to work the other day. No, I'm not adding a Middle Eastern flair to my wardrobe, nor am I trying to pull off some sort of business cas. Bob Mackie type o' thing. It was a bit of a slip-up and the rambling, unabridged backstory goes a little somethin' like--
I am really, really, really, REALLY not a morning person. It's even tough for me to hear one of those morning people effuse "Oh, I like to take it slow in the mornings--get up at five, linger over my coffee, read the paper, vacuum, blah blah blahdee blaah" Oh BARF. Who does that? I mean, people do do that...but I just can't fathom...when blankets are so snuggly to snuggle...what the fuck? Really?? I give myself 15 minutes to get ready for work and not a nanosecond more. That means that I get up 15 minutes before I leave for work. Well to be quite specific, my alarm starts going off 45minutes before departure time, and I groggily slap the snooze button for a 30min. Problematically though,my average shower time ranges from 15-20minutes. I make this nonproblematic by showering at night. Well, usually I do. On the rare weekday a.m.s that I take a shower, this means that I'm either running 15-20 minutes late, or I've actually roused myself a whole 1/2 hour before hustle-out-the-door time. Now in either scenario, you can bet your ass that I am NOT busting out the hair dryer. OK, I'm starting to fear that I'm portraying myself as some drab tomboy slob loser. So at this juncture, I remind you: I'm just going to work. When I go out on the weekends (well, when I periodically do... when I'm in the black) I make up for my day-to-day primping lackadaisicality (SOOO not a word!! is it?). I take, I'd say on average, 2 hours to preen for social excursions.
Well, I have digressed. What I was getting at-- my shower morning S.O.P. is to twist my wet locks into a Turbi Twist and wear that on my ride in to work. And then, after parking, I take off the turban, and hang the thing on my passenger seat headrest to dry. But, as you've surely surmised, I accidentally deviated from protocol the other a.m. I walk across the parking lot, oblivious, waving to a fellow coworker -- "Hi Ann!" favoring her with the winningest smile a pre-coffee me can muster. Walked right inside to the coat rack. The act of shedding my coat must have tipped me off --"Some other item you were supposed to take off, nimrod??" I quickly ripped the thing off and hung it up under my coat. I'm pretty sure Ann's the only one who noticed. She's been having a good laugh about it ALL WEEK.
So this hat I got-- kind of rad. It's sort of a touque-style hat--a loose black knit that you can see through the weave and see that inside the black knit is all silver sequins. Aw hell, why don't I just scrounge up a pic for y'all??
{several web scouring minutes later...}
It's really cuter in person, I assure you. Anyways, you can see it's not a tight beanie..it's got a bit of slouch to it. So, I've been wearing it sorta pushed back and to the left. And I've been wearing the hell out of it. The greeter at Walmart said it was cute and looked very good on me. And then as I donned it the other day to head out on my lunch break, one of my coworkers said it made me "look like a city girl". Now, I would have preferred the adjective "fetching" in the first scenario, and "metropolitan" in the latter, but that is not what either of them said, and I endeavor to report with the utmost accuracy, yes I do. Nevertheless, both remarks were complimentary and I was feeling pretty fine.
And then I caught a glimpse of myself in a big mirror. Well, really, I don't think the hat was the sole culprit, rather there was some awful sartorial chemistry going on with my coat-hat pairing. The coat may be the guiltier party --a long wool coat, trench style, black & white herringbone pattern, looks slightly stupid with its 2 big loopy belt loops hanging off the back of it when I have long since lost the belt. I'm a fan of long coats generally. I find them elegant (not dusters though...dusters are foul. I feel like primarily they are worn by weird neauvo-cowboys and plain ol' weird weirdos that keep weird journals that you better be on the lookout for. Hey, if you know of another ilk that favors dusters--please do enlighten me !) But I'm thinking that certain body types just need to find the absolute perfect long coat and maybe some should just totally avoid 'em. Anywhoodle...when I saw me in the mirror, 3 words flashed through my mind:
Glitzy Sam Kinison.
Oy vey!! So the moral of the story: believe your mirrors, NOT the hype. Unless you're consulting one of those 50x magnification make-up mirrors. Don't believe that kind!! I'm not saying they're dishonest mirrors, quite the contrary. But if you believe what those tell you, well...one is liable to have a lie-down on the train tracks and wait for the next express to flatten 'em. BRUTAL instruments, and I recommend shunning them altogether.
In other headgear news, I wore a turban to work the other day. No, I'm not adding a Middle Eastern flair to my wardrobe, nor am I trying to pull off some sort of business cas. Bob Mackie type o' thing. It was a bit of a slip-up and the rambling, unabridged backstory goes a little somethin' like--
I am really, really, really, REALLY not a morning person. It's even tough for me to hear one of those morning people effuse "Oh, I like to take it slow in the mornings--get up at five, linger over my coffee, read the paper, vacuum, blah blah blahdee blaah" Oh BARF. Who does that? I mean, people do do that...but I just can't fathom...when blankets are so snuggly to snuggle...what the fuck? Really?? I give myself 15 minutes to get ready for work and not a nanosecond more. That means that I get up 15 minutes before I leave for work. Well to be quite specific, my alarm starts going off 45minutes before departure time, and I groggily slap the snooze button for a 30min. Problematically though,my average shower time ranges from 15-20minutes. I make this nonproblematic by showering at night. Well, usually I do. On the rare weekday a.m.s that I take a shower, this means that I'm either running 15-20 minutes late, or I've actually roused myself a whole 1/2 hour before hustle-out-the-door time. Now in either scenario, you can bet your ass that I am NOT busting out the hair dryer. OK, I'm starting to fear that I'm portraying myself as some drab tomboy slob loser. So at this juncture, I remind you: I'm just going to work. When I go out on the weekends (well, when I periodically do... when I'm in the black) I make up for my day-to-day primping lackadaisicality (SOOO not a word!! is it?). I take, I'd say on average, 2 hours to preen for social excursions.
Well, I have digressed. What I was getting at-- my shower morning S.O.P. is to twist my wet locks into a Turbi Twist and wear that on my ride in to work. And then, after parking, I take off the turban, and hang the thing on my passenger seat headrest to dry. But, as you've surely surmised, I accidentally deviated from protocol the other a.m. I walk across the parking lot, oblivious, waving to a fellow coworker -- "Hi Ann!" favoring her with the winningest smile a pre-coffee me can muster. Walked right inside to the coat rack. The act of shedding my coat must have tipped me off --"Some other item you were supposed to take off, nimrod??" I quickly ripped the thing off and hung it up under my coat. I'm pretty sure Ann's the only one who noticed. She's been having a good laugh about it ALL WEEK.
Friday, January 01, 2010
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