Tuesday, February 28, 2006

the mozzer knew and other random facts and theories collected recently

i feel like i haven't done a news round-up/good links post in a while.

sp sent me this article and wanted to know if she was a bad person for thinking it was funny. basically, it posits that ugly people are more likely to be criminals. i guess that explains brian peppers.

tb sent me this youtube clip of bill hicks, which i thought was super funny (turn down the volume, it's nsfw). i didn't know anything about him and tb sent me his wikiquote page - good reading. (please note that wikipedia is taking over the cyberweb, and i don't mind). apparently people said that he ripped off denis leary's act, but he said, "I have a scoop for you. I stole his act. I camouflaged it with punchlines, and to really throw people off, I did it before he did." he was kind of a misanthrope and die-hard libertarian, but also a firm believer in the possibility of a good world. he was a huge influence on the band tool (random), and super furry animals also wrote songs about him. and a little band called radiohead happened to have dedicated "the bends" to him. bill died on my 17th birthday. here's more on his wikipedia page.


jk (one of my friends named jk . . . fuck it, the one in milwaukee is now jk and the one in chicago is now jmk - after his excellent monogrammed dress shirts) sent me this page from the citizen guide about milwaukee that is awesome. i like milwaukee - i would even daresay that if i had to live in wisconsin i might even choose milwaukee over madison. but that's it - those would be my two choices. i like this line: "The Wisconsin State Fair comes to town every August. It’s generally your normal cream puff/carny shit, and should be avoided at all costs unless you want to check out some enormous pigs – both human and animal." there are citizen guides ("your guide for radical travel") written for many international and american cities - chicago's is great (even giving a shout out to hot doug's and rossi's, and calling the shedd aquarium the best place in the city to get high), and i hope that new ones pop up soon.

i saw junebug this weekend (i liked it) and looked up the mom on imdb, as she was so familiar, and saw that she was in the talented mr ripley. why am i telling you this? because, according to imdb, its full title is The Mysterious Yearning Secretive Sad Lonely Troubled Confused Loving Musical Gifted Intelligent Beautiful Tender Sensitive Haunted Passionate Talented Mr. Ripley.


this is fascinating - and totally depressing, when you consider that this man has spent untold years obsessing over this. apparently morrissey totally foresaw the death of princess diana, as revealed through his entire career's lyrics, artwork, and interviews. since no one seems to believe him, the author has decided that he will not reveal the remaining proof he has uncovered ("I've presented 20% of the evidence of the Diana-Morrissey Phenomenon. Knowing that the remaining 80% of the evidence is the same quality as that which has already been presented and ignored, I logically conclude that the world won't listen to it either"). but this was to be expected - as "It is a curious fact that the Smiths' album at the heart of the Diana-Morrissey Phenomenon, THE QUEEN IS DEAD, was immediately followed by a Smiths compilation titled THE WORLD WON'T LISTEN."


i love dlisted, i love dlisted's writer michael k, and i love that the seattle times interviewed him. click here.


here is a slideshow that a news station compiled of that cat in china that weighs 33 pounds. i love how the captions start out informational, start to stretch it by giving info on the obesity problems that cats face, and then finally give up around slide seven by just saying "keep clicking for more photos of the cat."

they should put all this shit on ebay. cuz i want to be able to buy eisenhower's gall stones. i still don't understand why they're shutting down walter reed hospital. i guess all of the money the government will save will be directly funnelled to the rebuilding of new orleans, right?


my favorite moment in one of my favorite movies is a total throwaway line, but an endearing one at that. guy at flea market looking at painted portrait in serial mom: "fuckin don knotts." girl: "he's the coolest!" he was the coolest. rip, don. and no, he was not on my dead pool list.

Monday, February 27, 2006

photography week ends and i realize that i am very fond of taking pictures of total messes.


here are the last award-winning photos to wrap up photography week. i will say that i enjoyed carrying my camera around with me, but found that i ended up taking a lot of photos of garbage and of messes. hmmm.

here is the remains of the cake box from the party that my floor threw for me at work.

here are photos from the bar saturday night. i had friends meet up at the rainbo club for drinks and good times. jc is new to the dive bar phenomenon; she is not a beer drinker and is used to clubs and lounges. she told me that she was trying to describe what a hipster dive bar is to her boyfriend and so she said that everyone wore glasses and fitted pants and looked like they were in a movie, which i thought was very funny.

those would be corn husks from the tamales i ate around 2 am stuffed inside of an empty cigarette pack. you know how the rose guys walk through dc bars with baskets of flowers and try to make you buy them for your date or whomever? (i once got a rose from a creepy russian guy at the pharmacy bar, btw). well, in some chicago bars, you'll get a guy walking through with a cooler full of baggies that contain six steaming-hot tamales. and you know what? they're really fucking good. i don't know what a health inspector would have to say about it, but i am convinced that i DIDN'T get sick saturday night because i ate some.

Sunday, February 26, 2006

happy birfday to me.


precious moments figurines look like they're from downersyndrome grove, il.

Thursday, February 23, 2006

my past two days in photographic form




i sold more cds and spent a lot of time at the automatic shipping station at the post office (special guest photographer: tc).

i went to a bulls game because jc has the mad hook-up with comped $95-face-value tickets (special guest photographer of benny the bull balloon: jc). the game was sloppy, the bulls dynasty died years ago, and the lovabulls cheerleading squad is full of milfs that can't dance. otherwise, it was a good time.

i mocked jk's monogramed dress shirt. all of his dress shirts are monogramed. he's a good sport about it. unless it's an act.

i have my second bladder infection in three months. this is unfortunate for many reasons, not the least of which that the doctor i have seen both times is the son of a doctor that is on my job's board, who i see often and is a very nice man and whom i will have to work with directly for the next two years. his son is also really hott, and i don't like telling him about my piss.

i took photos of random trash on the street. i liked this pack of smokes.

the blurry street sign reads "today's chicago woman way." i love this sign. it's an honorary title to commemorate the fact that women can have jobs. DOWNTOWN, even. it's blurry because i am always in a mad rush to get to my office, trotting in my LA gears and pantyhose, my easy spirit pumps tucked into my canvas totebag, for i am one of today's chicago women.

Tuesday, February 21, 2006

i can handle my liquor. sadly.


people keep asking me how my previous week ended. it was Drunkard Week in my Year of Something Different. i don't remember how it ended. ha.

actually, i have the amazing ability to remember, crystal-clearly, absolutely everything i did, said and saw when totally drunk. i have never blacked out. i can't pretend that what-happened-last-night is a mystery to me. this is NOT preferable to blacking out. i might remember how everything went down, but i also have a loose grasp on self-control and my inner filter disappears. i will say or do interesting things when i am drunk, and then the next day i will remember, and i will hate myself for it, but at least people can't accuse me of things that i know for a fact didn't happen.

when my roommate was studying for finals in her room on thursday night and she heard a very familiar cork-popping noise, she called out "please tell me you did not just open a bottle of wine." i sure did, bitch - and it was yours. which i didn't know at the time. sorry. i would say that i owe you the $3 to replace it, but you owe me $135 in utilities since november, so let's just move on. this bottle of wine - three-quarters of it - did not make me drunk. i was worried.

i tried a little harder on friday. two martinis, three hurricanes, and an amstel light later, i was back in fighting form. saturday was a dinner party, where i certainly helped finish all of the bottles of wine that we went through. i developed a headache sunday - the kind that makes a car trip to wisconsin unbearable, and i just sat in the back seat like a grouch - and it didn't disappear until i drank two glasses of wine and popped some advil before dinner. of course, at work on monday the headache returned, and i had to take some asprin that a cube mate had, and it returned monday evening, and i had to take some anicin that i was surprised to find in my medicine cabinet. i am one of those people that never gets sick. i don't pop asprin when i have a headache (since i rarely have one), i don't do cough syrup, i rarely finish prescriptions on the rare occassions that i have one. i hold the (unproven) theory that your body builds an immunity to pain relievers and cold medication if you take it too often, so i just suffer through. i suppose if i was sick more often i would have a different approach. anyway, ramble ramble, i blame my 48-hour headache on my seven nights of heavy drinking. there were no other reprecussions, however. maybe the bender wasn't long enough. OR, unlike my approach to asprin, my body is so accustomed to liquor that it laughs at my weak 8-drink attempts to make it drunk. all of my dearly departed relatives, especially the men, from what i hear as far as old-school family gossip is concerned, would be super proud. we are a hearty people, and we like the drink.

Monday, February 20, 2006

look at how talented i am.



i had several options for my new week in my Year of Something Different, but damn it's cold and damn i don't want to be too creative right now. so i am carrying my digital camera everywhere and taking photos when i feel like it (i'm not going to take photos of homeless people or covertly snap people unawares on the bus or anything - i'm not trying to be an artiste). at the end of the day i will decide what the theme of the day was.

sunday was Things That Are Old. i went to dinner with a bunch of family, including my great-aunt and grandma, and i took photos of them, and they're elderly. the place we went to eat is an old inn with weird antique junk, crappy rooms "as they were" (thank christ i am alive now), glass cases full of chicago tribune front pages from the 1800s and old receipts. i took a photo of a card for j. george trost, linguist, located at 129 ontario street in chicago. i'm not sure if it's supposed to be east or west, but regardless they're not too far from one another. 129 east ontario would now be where the grand lux restaurant is (and is kitty-corner from my office) and 129 west would just be down the street a few blocks and is now a parking lot. other photos include a wheelchair that i wouldn't have wanted (not that i want a wheelchair. i want a rascal) and a cool old drum kit.

today i took photos of my everyday mundane. like my computer at work and my bedroom and the pierogies i made for dinner. snore. whatevs. it's like 3 degrees outside. and tomorrow it's supposed to be 40. global warming totally doesn't exist. i took a photo of my little dressing table, where i keep all of my makeup and lotion and stuff, and i didn't realize how cluttery and gross it is until i looked at the photo. SEE - i am discovering myself through photography. ha.

"after a while, your possessions start to own you" - tyler durden


i have been selling a lot of cds on amazon lately. it's super easy to do - jms even made selling used books and cds online a lucrative full-time job, and he is my inspiration. i go through everything-must-go moods, where i decide to mine my expansive cd, video and book collections and purge the excess - and there is always excess. now that i am in the habit of burning all of my cds to my harddrive, making a back-up, and only listening to my ipod, i don't really see the necessity of having two overloaded cd towers. how often do you flip through cd liner notes? so i am doing yet another get-out-of-my-house campaign, and in the past two weeks i have made almost $500 selling about 75 cds. not bad.

it's interesting to think of the people that you're mailing your possessions to. someone told me that some guy sold everything in his apartment - like, EVERYTHING, including boxes of cereal and old dust rags - on ebay, recorded where he sent everything, and then traveled to the buyers' houses to see why they purchased used socks and the like. sadly, i have yet to hear about the book or movie that was supposed to come out of this story. amazon requires sellers to print out packing slips for the used things that you sell, and i have saved word document copies of all of them (why, i do not know). it's a good reminder as to what it is that i have actually sold, but it's also interesting to see who buys your stuff and where it goes to. sometimes it's kinda funny.

like how a woman with the last name "dyke" bought my rufus wainwright cd (he's super gay, in case you didn't know). a woman that lives on "lovers lane" in madison, ct, bought my edith piaf cd. a woman on "church of god road" in spruce pine, nc, purchased outkast's speakerboxx/the love below.

i sold the best of morrissey to another kristine b, and she actually emailed me and told me how awesome it is to hear all of the songs that she used to dance to in clubs. a woman in lexington bought the first kings of leon cd from me, and i felt right about sending it to kentucky. a kid at harvard bought the best of the jam - which is the perfect age to get into them. the chicago public library (or a woman that works at the uptown branch, and had it delivered there) bought a pavement cd from me. i ought to borrow it sometime.

sometimes it would be faster to just hand-deliver the cds to the people that order them - this week i got two orders to be mailed less than three miles from my apartment, and the girl that ordered the killers cd from me works half a mile away from my office.

i like seeing people's names in general - some of them are just awful (like larry crum). ella dick now owns the new liz phair cd. braden bought horace andy, brandyn bought the brain candy soundtrack, and jehoshua bought nick cave. i don't know why this strikes me as being so random, but muhammad bought dido.

my first gay boyfriend called me "amazon" in high school, btw.

granny boob jokes are the best-ever.



had dinner with my grandma and some relatives last night. her birthday is a day after mine (she's turning 84 on feb 27 - i'll be a few years younger on the 26th). my jackass uncle got her this shirt - "old, but still swingin" with tassles sewn onto the the droops. reminds me of the shirt my excellent friend jh found in the hamptons house over new years that i stole as a fond memento. fyi, i have washed that shirt three times and it still has a faint musty smell to it.

i scribbled out our heads because i don't really want this blog to be about me per se - and i certainly don't want to post photos of myself on here. because all of my friends that read this already know what i look like, and i don't want anyone from work to know anything about my personal life, and all of the strangers that read this won't be able to handle how insanely hott i am. i keed.

i actually took a really bizarre and fleeting pleasure in erasing our heads from the photos. i felt like i was in a scene from a schlocky horror movie, where to prove how psycho i am, you see me scratch my face out of photos and punch a mirror.

Thursday, February 16, 2006

i drank myself into sobriety


i went out last night in full effect, prepared for yet another evening of my drunkard week. eight vodka cranberries later (uh, yeah, eight, and they weren't small glasses), i walked home from the bar with a bit of a buzz. it wasn't from lack of trying. tonight i drank like most of a bottle of wine (two-buck chuck is gooooood. err, the best two-dollar wine this side of boone's farm) and did laundry while watching zoolander. i am relaxed but not drunk. i am perturbed. this is drunkard week and i am merely just drinking. a lot. to little effect. could i have perhaps drank myself into a tolerance that is both expensive and irritating? my Year of Something Different sure is teaching me a lot. like that five nights of drinking in a row can wear my body into a complete indifference to being a drunk. this is a tragedy.

here are some things for you to perhaps enjoy as much as i did.

ab sent me info on a bollywood musical remake of fight club. watch the trailer and try not to break into song as you punch yourself in the face in a bar parking lot. this fulfills my hott-indian-man fetish but kinda looks sucky anyway.

the yale daily news explains global conflict and international relations for those of us whose attention spans tend to wander toward the trite: through the example of the o.c. sp emailed it to me with the subject line "yale, this almost makes up for dubya."

dan savage wrote a fantastic ny times op-ed about the ex-gay movement. and he's still claiming that he hasn't seen brokeback mountain yet. he's probably too busy debating whether audio-recording the men's bathroom in a neighboring restaurant is ethical for married women to do (which was a recent savage love column. dude, whenever i worry about myself, all i have to do is read savage love or craig's list and i suddenly feel completely, serenely sane).

speaking of craig's list, here's a post entitled "my ipod shuffle thinks i'm gay."

i heart graphic novels. yes. i must be drunk. i am admitting this.

this article was kool. apparently valentine's day is to private investigators as tax day is to h&r block.

and you should download this playlist of lerve songs.

Tuesday, February 14, 2006

obligatory valentine's day post














































feel the love.

guess what this week is?


friends kept asking me when i was going to treat myself to a week of something that i might actually enjoy in my Week of Something Different. so here i am, on day three, and it's drunkard week. i'm getting drunk this week. that's it. maybe not *different* as exciting and new, but i haven't drank for seven nights in a row since the bender of spring 2003 (that was, i believe, 12 nights in a row), so i was due for a new one, and the middle of february is a fine time. i'm drunk right now. yes, i can still legibly and coherently write, so i guess i'm not really drunk enough, but i have a busy day at work tomorrow, so it's a five-beer night - enough to be buzzed, enough to be charged with a dui (not that i own a car), enough to say yes, i do believe that i am drunk, but not so bad that i pass out with my face on the keyboard or unable to actually form sentences in english.

my week thus far:

sunday - saw munich with eb and sf. was terribly upset and depressed by it. finished off bottle of yellowtail cabernet sar-however you spell it that i opened on saturday. on the couch. by myself. intervention not yet needed, but could possibly be penciled in.

monday - dinner and drinks with friends that participate in the sbe project. light on the dinner, heavy on the drinks. the sbe project is named after a coworker and, every now and then, we make mix cds for one another (this month's theme was love songs, whatever you decide that term means) and get together to drink and eat and trade cds. yes, we are tragic nerds, but it's awesome. i now have seven new cds, suckas. i drank martinis at the restaurant and then proceeded to ramble on to tc about things like how the band w.a.s.p.'s name purportedly stands for "we are satan's people" and a whole bunch of other bullshit.

tuesday - two pilsners at tb's and then three miller lights at the supergrass show.

i fully expect to build this up. my body can do three nights in a row, no prob - but by friday it might be like "ummmm, we need to talk."

supergrass at the vic, 2/14/06


here's the shortest show review you might ever read.

supergrass. zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. the end.

really, i wanted to have a rollicking good time. they played well. they sounded fine. i like them well enough to agree to pay $25 to see them. it was just that i have never been more indifferent about a band i actually paid to see before. the miller lights i paid $5 a can for (and i'm a sucker, so i always throw down a buck for tip) were more interesting. that's all.

js said about the lead singer, "he looks like a less hot jeff tweedy," which is saying something.

Saturday, February 11, 2006

the middle-aged and the complacent


i deserved a night off from watching "my stories" so i forced myself to watch both thursday's and friday's soaps when i got home from work yesterday. mentally exhausted, i took a nap until 9 and then went out. glad this week is over. my friends are like "god, when are you going to do yourself a favor and start picking weeks that don't suck?" i plan to start tomorrow with a good week - i've earned it.

so thursday's soap was the young and the restless. when i was growing up i was friends with sisters named lisa and leslie, who lived a block away. their parents were going through a divorce and were left with babysitters a lot, and they LOVED the young and the restless. we were like six or seven years old, mind you. my mom had two rules for us when we were little: no bad tv and no going over to friends' houses when they had babysitters. i can't blame my mom now, but back then it felt very oppressive. i remember being at lisa and leslie's house one day, playing barbies while they watched the young and the restless with their babysitter and feeling very, very guilty.

i will not bore you with plot points, as i stopped listening and just observed the mechanics of soap operas. here are some observations:

* when a soliloquy wont work, a flashback or daydream/hallucination might be in order. to mark as such, it should be filmed in a gauzy light, and the audio should sound a little bit echoy/underwater-like.

* none of my friends or family have ever been arrested, framed, kidnapped, or hospitalized for something random and serious (except for when fb got hit by a supershuttle van). my life is boring.

* there are A LOT of commercial breaks for an hour-long show, and all of them are for housecleaning products, over-the-counter drugs, and i can't believe it's not butter.

* no one wears t-shirts or sweaters. they all look very over-done for never doing anything but standing around talking and crying and blackmailing.

* sometimes you can tell that they're reading off of cue cards. i mean, i'm sure that the actors don't have much time to memorize their scripts or work on the nuances of their roles, since the show is on for an hour EVERY WEEK DAY, but when their eyes are scanning off in the distance while they speak, it really sort of loses the credibility that it sooo had before.

* all of the main characters in all of these soaps seem to be from "prominent" families - wealthy, influential, business magnates - who all worry about the press . . . yet they're all in really small towns.

friday was one life to live. i should have watched the bold and the beautiful, because eb told me that when she spent a semester in ghana, everyone there was OBSESSED with the bold and the beautiful. the episodes that aired in ghana were from like 1982, and some ghanians thought that they were real people, and mostly people would talk about the episodes incredulously, like "WHY would she DO that?!?!?!" they asked eb to mail them new episodes when she got home.

one life to live definitely featured the worst story line of all of the soaps i watched this week: a crazed woman is living in a basement with her newborn baby, hiding because she faked her own death so that the father of the baby, who is on death row (framed for her murder), can fake HIS own death so that they can be together. um, what? maybe he wouldn't be on death row if you hadn't faked your death. christ, why am i even questioning this show's logic?

for all of the smut my mother convinced me soaps were filled with in the early 80s, i only saw ONE scene of unmarried people sharing a bed, and i didn't even see it until friday, and they were, yes, TALKING.

btw, one life to live comes on right after all my children, and my vcr had taped the very end of amc, which is what i had watched monday. they're STILL at that masquerade ball, and still will be monday (way to drag out a story line), because the scenes from the next episode show the ballroom exploding and some old dude yelling "is anyone alive?" - DRAMA!!!!

Wednesday, February 08, 2006

god, i wish i had a doll-turned-boy of my very own

my third soap was passions.

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ.

it has probably the worst theme song i have ever heard before. theme songs are important.

remember what i said yesterday about how people deliver monologues as if it was a normal way to think through their situation? it apparently also works if you speak directly to someone's photo.

no one on soaps seem to do anything other than talk, scheme, make out, or get hurt (physically and/or mentally). i guess they don't have jobs - and if they do, they are simply talking, scheming, making out, or getting hurt while on the job.

i had heard that passions was sort of funny because they had a lot of stupid story lines like witchcraft and "timmy." (from wikipedia: And let’s not forget 300 year-old witch Tabitha Lenox! For years, Tabitha wreaked havoc in Harmony along with her reluctant sidekick, doll-turned-boy Timmy. Tabitha was heartbroken when her beloved Timmy passed away, but is now causing just as much mischief and mayhem with the help of her daughter, Endora! Endora is a chip off the old block, having inherited her mother’s powers). i was waiting. nothing even remotely entertaining. i'm ready to admit that i am totally obsessed with wikipedia - here is its passions page.

in the very last scene, someone drove a car into the diner where fancy (great name) and noah were talking. wow. what a cliffhanger. i don't give a shit about any of these people. and i don't think i give a shit about soaps.

ps: timmy really is dead.

marxist revolutionaries are sooo hott.


i stole the tv! click here for the latest on the strangers with candy movie. i got really into this show in 2001, living with em and hk. my buddy ne bought the complete series (pirated vhs recordings) off of ebay and i was watching it in the front room. they would walk in during particularly inappropriate moments and were finally like "WHAT IS THIS? this is totally messed up." they became converts, and that summer we absolutely could not stop imitating having an overbite and rolling our eyes away in an "oh, well"/i-am-ugly gesture. we would also randomly confess "i stole the tv!" jeri blank is awesome.

the commercialization of che: click here. i'm excited to see the benicio del toro biopic that they're currently filming. that photo was the "door" to the "swank" master bedroom in the nastyass house we rented in the hamptons for new years. i don't think that the beaded curtain really fit into the rest of the room's decor, which was jungle prints and african animals, but nothing in that house made any sense.

tb sent me this news clip with the email subject line "unreal." as his email said, "Teacher who used the 'N' word on a black student defends himself with a hilarious analysis of why it's appropriate to use 'Nigg-ahhhh!' Also, he brought signs." totally fucked up.

did you know that chicago used to be a total candy mecca? and now all we've got is one lone blommer's factory? i was riding my bike over a bridge downtown this summer (on my way to see my morning jacket play a street fest) and my tires were in a real need for more air, and the approach was up a hill and a real bitch to get through, but i was handsomly rewarded with an intense chocolate smell as i rode. it is the last scent you expect to find in the middle of a city. anyway, all candy operations are being moved overseas or, like the frango mints, to jersey. chicago doesn't even make wrigley's gum anymore. sadness. read here.

who's the bigger idiot in the jt leroy "scandal" (if you consider that - hiv-positive-west-virginia-child-hustlers who write "edgy" novels when it really turns out that it was all a big scam - a scandal): all of jt's fans and supporters and publishing industry backers, or the creepy woman who started the whole thing? her ex-bf is saying that she is basically delusional and obsessed with the writer that she invented. nice hobby. read here.

Tuesday, February 07, 2006

like sands through the hourglass, this is some boring crap.


let me just say that the opening credits for days of our lives is like my favorite thing of all time - the ooky music and that guy's cheesy voice saying, "like sands through the hourglass, so are the days of our lives," with a computer-generated hourglass with said sand (is "sands" the fancy way to say it?) pouring through it, and then out busts the cheesy classical score. it's perfect for a soap.

at least this soap has the sense to actually refer to where it's supposed to take place - although "salem" is pretty generic. my granny lives in salem, wi, and i don't even know if that town is incorporated. none of the men are as hott as the ones on all my children, so at least it's, err, more realistic.

when someone on a soap talks to themself, it's basically three fully-formed paragraphs that describe exactly how they feel and precisely what their plans are to fuck someone over and/or enact revenge. whereas when i talk to myself, it is usually a swear word in reaction to me dropping something.

almost all scenes in this episode took place either at a hospital or at the courthouse - where all exciting things happen. i counted 15 people with speaking parts, and only one of them was a walk-on character. that is a lot of people to have to follow for less than an hour.

this is what i got: hope and bo had a child named zach who was accidentally run over and killed by bo's daughter chelsea. bo was covering for chelsea and chelsea's mom billie was going to take the fall because i guess that's what mothers do to prove their love. hope found out that bo had covered for chelsea and she was screaming and crying. billie's boyfriend patrick started meddling, and turned in some tapes that proved that chelsea was driving, so billie broke up with him . . .

wow. fascinating. more talking and arguing and tears and long dramatic pauses. as sp said in her comment from yesterday, i guess i missed the big accident last friday and now i just get to hear everyone talk about what happened.

there were also two side stories - one featured a guy with temporary blindness whose wife is cheating on him (in his hospital room's bathroom, no less) and the other was a "wacky" woman who was faking an illness so that she could talk her daughter into marrying some guy and not telling him that he is the father of some other girl's baby . . . ummm, okay. oh, and the woman who's cheating on her blind husband is the "sick" woman's doctor. got it?

fucking stupid.

support the americorps, prank calls, and salad fingers.



there's a new salad fingers! click here for episode seven. despite the return of hubert cumberdale and the fact that salad fingers has a corpse torso over for beef stroganoff and ruby tea, i wasn't as creeped out by this one as i was by the first few i saw. salad fingers has total meth mouth.

this prank call made me crack up - someone kept playing jack nicholson's lines from a few good men to some woman who gets totally pissed at the colonel. you can't handle the truth!

jk (just to be clear, there are two jks i am friends with and refer to) and i were emailing about out of this world, as this is how we pass the day, and he told me that burt reynolds was the voice of evie's dad - the voice that came out of the spaceage candy dish. i totally didn't believe him, but it's true. what next - vicki the robot from small wonder is actually a human?

please go to this website and fill out a petition that requests that the federal government appropriates (a measly) $200 million to the americorps so that they don't close the NCCC (national civilian conservation corps) campuses. i did americorps*vista after college, my sister did americorps*nccc for a year during college, and i spent four years in dc working for americorps programs (9 months actually running the largest americorps*education awards program in the country). in my sister's year in the nccc, she worked at a denver food bank, built trails in rural texas, worked at an after-school program in detroit, and worked on a reservation in wyoming. the government fed her, gave her a uniform, and provided housing; she received a teeny tiny living stipend and a $5,000 voucher for her student loans. when i was a vista i made $600 a month, got food stamps and rent assistance, and only stayed in the program (because it was really shitty at times) because of the $5,000 voucher (good carrot). the americorps is a seriously amazing program. thousands of americans that want to serve their country through community service are truly sacrificing for the experience. i have heard all sorts of bullshit like "where i come from, volunteers get doughnuts and coffee, not cash," but that's total crap - the amount of assistance that americorps members receive is drastically less than warranting complaint, and i'd like to meet the average person who volunteers 50 hours a week for a solid year. also, independent studies have determined that corps members produce more monetary value for the work that they do than the government pays for their services. i'd like to see any other government program be able to claim that. if you're interested in reading more about corps, click here for the nascc (national association of service and conservation corps) website. that was my first post-americorps job, and i love that place.

Monday, February 06, 2006

from tasteless food to quite tasteful daytime television


so i ended veganism week. it wasn't terrible - i just got really bored with how not-good the food was. i tried to eat the rest of my tofu dogs for dinner tonight and i was like, "you know what? fuck this." i threw them out and had some (vegan) potstickers. whatevs - i totally over-bought for my week (spent almost $125 on vegan food, still have about 40 bucks worth of trail mix, cashew butter, hummus, tapenade, etc), and i still like most of it. it's nice to add it to normal food.

so now i'm doing soap opera week. i had never seen a soap before tonight. i mean, i have seen some nighttime soap-esque shows, and i'm sure i've probably caught a few scenes when i've been home sick and i was looking for a daytime talk show that wasn't about whose-the-baby-daddy (i prefer the conjoined twins or the polygamists or the bed people). i wasn't allowed to watch soaps growing up. i also wasn't allowed to watch mtv, cheers, or three's company. my mom was a big dallas fan and i thought that the opening credits and theme song were like the coolest shit ever, so she'd let me watch those, but then i'd have to go back upstairs. i never got into soaps, and i never necessarily felt like i was missing out, but one of the points of my Year of Something Different was to check out things that lots of other people have as hobbies or are really into and that i have either avoided or just never considered.

so i set my vcr this morning for the first soap i found on the tv guide online - abc's all my children. watching it, i felt like i should have been thumbing through my woman's world magazine and picking cat hair off of my velvet bedazzled sweatsuit. so the show was about a mardi gras masquerade ball hosted by susan lucci (i do know who she is). i will say that i thought it was nice that the show kept encouraging viewers (as i guess susan lucci's character is supposed to be famous and was therefore filming the ball for tv viewers - how meta!) to donate to the american red cross for hurricane relief and gave the phone number, and during the commerical break, susan lucci (as herself) let all of the soap fans know that if they call a special number before feb 15 and donate to the red cross, they will receive a call (pre-recorded) from her. oh, NOW i will donate.

here are some observations:

* all of the characters have either recently been in the hospital, or else they recently saved someone's life, or they are scheming to unmask their foes' evildoings
* when they speak to one another, they are all either hostile or breathtakingly sincere
* almost all of the men under 45 are totally hott - in a very metrosexual/gay sort of way
* all of the women under 35 have bleached-out hair and wear irridescent eye makeup, so they just look trashy
* they all dress and speak how i guess people with no money would assume the wealthy do
* people keep walking into various rooms to deliver devastating news, and then it cuts to another scene
* there is a character that is obviously supposed to be insane (unattractive woman) and a character that is supposed to be, i guess, mildly retarded (unattractive man)
* it seems that anyone that has a baby on this show does it to blackmail someone else
* i counted at least 14 different plots that people kept alluding to ("you were drugged and then you attacked him with a knife! it wasn't your fault!"; "you should have torn up that pre-nup"; "i framed her and i hope she likes jail"). basically, nothing really happened - they just sort of kept talking about things that happened in other episodes

um, boring.

unanswered questions:

* where does this take place?
* how do these people know one another, other than how they all are either ex-loves or back-stabbing friends?
* what the fuck does the title of the show mean? who had all of these children? is this supposed to be one large conniving family?
* who does anyone watch this?

Sunday, February 05, 2006

a sad day for feminists, munsters


i watched the superbowl tonight. tc was raised around pittsburg and jc is from seattle. i was on jc's side just so she wouldn't feel so alone (everyone else there was a steelers fan), but it's not like i was emotionally connected. at all. it was the first time i actually paid attention - i think i get it, but i can't really force myself to care.

saw brokeback mountain again this weekend. i highly recommend that you click on this link and check out the brilliant trailer for brokeback to the future, which explores the romance between marty mcfly and doc brown.

when the new yorker's cartoons all have the same punchline. funny - click here.

mr t went to go see the fishers. click here. random.

western union sent the last telegram last week STOP - click here. i never received a telegram, and now i never will.

people who know pete doherty weigh in to the new york times on whether he is a waste of talent or just a waste.

the first paragraph of this washington post article is "Three decades after he stole nearly $1 million from the federal government, and eight years after he beat his mother to death, William Sibert stood on a train track in Laurel last week, facing the CSX freight train head-on as it barreled toward him." it's an interesting story - sad and kinda badass and crazy.

a wapo article on the politics of wikipedia. i love that site. i watched manhattan on saturday and then looked up woody, which led to looking at his son's page - he used to be named satchel but i don't think that he or his siblings are really all that interested in hanging out with him or their sister/step-mom, and they all changed their names, so satchel is now ronan farrow and he sounds like an amazing child genius. read here - keep in mind that he is 18 years old.

so betty friedan died. here is her obit, which is a good read. she was a tough old bitch. i got to go to the national women's conference in dc in november of 1997, and she was one of the featured speakers - she sat on a panel with her head propped up in her hand looking like she really could not have cared less. i remember her wearing a crazy frumpy housedress (but that might be a manufactured memory - see james frey et al) and she was totally unfriendly. i bothered her to sign my book because even feminist political girls need to have heroes, and she was like, yeah, sure, whatever, here, leave me alone. the best part of that conference was hanging out with bella abzug (randomness alert - she had a guest spot in manhattan, which i just watched). she was in a wheelchair and all fat and loud and wearing one of her trademark hats, and she had her assistant wheel her over to my table during dinner one night because she wanted to hang out with the youngins. she sat next to me and we chatted and she was hilarious, and she gave me her card and told me to come work for her in new york when i was done with college. a few months later i was watching her funeral on c-span. i still have her card.

also, grandpa munster died. this is gonna sound super mean, but with right white face makeup and slicked-back hair, betty and al coulda been twins.

Thursday, February 02, 2006

i somehow managed to mention meth, corndogs, and mullets in this post. it's like going back to my hometown.


most people have seen this story, and like everyone i know forwarded it to me, as everyone knows how i feel about meth and child stars. stephanie tanner was a meth addict! i bet that bitch kimmie gibbler got her into it. you know that your life is in shambles when the fucking olsen twins are at an intervention for you. it doesn't sound like dave coulier was at her intervention - there is something so hateful (and totally unfunny) about that man. special thanks to sp for sending me links and for indulging my meth obsession.

remember how i talked about how much i hate fred phelps a few days ago? ag read his wikipedia page and was entirely creeped out by him. she sent me this part: Phelps also wrote a book in the 1980s with his son-in-law, Brent D. Roper, called The Conspiracy. In the book, Roper and Phelps claim to possess evidence that AIDS spontaneously generated in Africa; Truman Capote contracted the disease during an orgy with African tribesmen; Capote then gave the disease to John F. Kennedy and Marilyn Monroe by playing football with them; and that the CIA assassinated all three to prevent the spread of the disease. Phelps published and distributed the book himself; it was also sold in the back ofPeter J. Peters catalogue of extremist literature, and thus became a widely circulated text among such groups as the Ku Klux Klan, Aryan Brotherhood, and Christian Identity. riiiiiight. i totally missed that part in capote. i know that it's wrong to hope that others burn in hell, but that's exactly where fred phelps belongs.

tb sent me the funniest video i have seen in a while: trent reznor performing "eyes without a face" with his craptastic new wave band in the 80s. i mean, you have to start somewhere, right? even the Dark and Disturbed used to rock curly mullets and LA gear shoes.

ICK. but a good fyi. go to this website. enter your address. up pops a map with a little house where you live and some colorful dots. those dots would be where registered sex offenders live. if you click on the dots you can see their mug shots and info. puuuuuuuuuuuuke!!!! i guess i'd rather know, though. i guess.

oh, craig's list. how you amuse me. you are the absolutely wrong place to find a roommate (and i speak from experience), a normal date (i can only assume), or a job (unless the kind of job you're looking for is of the hand or of the blow). you could trade in your nasty old flip flops for $5 (foot fetishist), find a new dance partner (this guy had to post an online ad? i swear i run into him every time i make the ill-advised decision to go dancing), party with two really hott dudes (this one is actually really funny), or - and this is so sexy it hurts - re-enact the rescue-princess-leia-from-jabba's-lair scene with a large-and-in-charge lady in buffalo. i think that jk sent all of those to me. work much, jk?

he also sent me this list from mcsweeney's:

Responses to People on the 6 Train That Hopefully Convey My Feelings in a Polite Way.
BY LEIGHTON DAVIS
- - - -
Thank you for so gently cupping my ass when we came to a stop.
Clipping your fingernails is such a good use of time.
You partially sitting on my lap makes me feel like we are good friends.
That was wise of you to get onto the subway before that elderly woman was able to get off.
Would it be easier to stare at my breasts if I turned a little to the left?


i'm on day five of being a vegan. it's not as hard as i had thought it would be, but i also am looking forward to sunday, when i can eat meat and dairy again. it's super bowl sunday, and you know what that means: halftime spectaculars, supposedly-innovative commercials, and CORNDOGS.