Thursday, September 30, 2004
That said, did anyone else notice Bush's excessive blinking during his closing statement? I think he was trying to send the audience a message in Morse code.
My dad and I were trying to come up with ways to make the debate more interesting, so more people would watch. Here are a few things we came up with.
First of all, my dad suggested that whoever came in second should become VP. Think about it. They could have a whole new reality show based on their crazy Democan/Republicrat shenanigans.
My suggestion? Fight to the death. Then we wouldn't have to worry about another hanging-chad/Florida situation.
Or they could put on those Gladiator outfits (there's a pleasant image, eh?) and fight it out like they do on the show. They'd be teamed with people named Razor or Ice and do whatever it is they did on that American Gladiator show. I don't really remember. The only time I ever watched it was on Saturday mornings when I was waiting for Saved by the Bell to come on or something.
The moderator should get a whip to use whenever the candidates stray too far off topic.
Whoever makes a baby laugh first wins. I think Bush would win that one, because babies love monkeys.
The candidates are quizzed on a variety of pop culture categories.
Laura Bush and Teresa Heinz Kerry. Mud-wrestling.
I really wanted to see one of the candidates call the other "dillhole" or "butt monkey."
Juggling. With knives. Knives on fire.
Four words. Stupid Human Pet Tricks.
It's on after Survivor, anyway.
Everyone is saying how important these debates are. But I'm afraid people are going to focus less on what the candidates are saying, and more on how they're saying it.
Maybe I don't have enough faith in the American people, but I'm still worried about it.
I also wonder how many people are like me. I already know who I'm voting for, but I'm going to watch anyway. Even though there's no way in hell I'd switch my votes. John Kerry could come out with a box of puppies and feed them to a crocodile and I still wouldn't vote for Bush.
Wednesday, September 29, 2004
I'm with Carolyn, who said she was embarrassed by them. They are making women look so bad. Did the producers do this on purpose? Did they try to find the most juvenile women in the US? The only woman on the show that doesn't make me want to stab myself in the eye is Pamela, and she's on the men's team. I think Ivana is batshit crazy, Stacy is an angry little munchkin, Elizabeth is whiny, Jen (who got fired tonight) is a loud-mouth, know-it-all, Jennifer is condescending, Sandy is two-faced, and Maria . . . oh, she just grates. Every time she opens her mouth I want to kick her in the shin.
I hope they all get fired so the men have more airtime, because John is just plain hot.
As I was trying to scrape the dried egg yolk from my windshield, I noticed a squirrel in the tree across the street, just staring at me. And the one that had scared me was also staring at me, from the space between these two branches. AND there was another squirrel in the next yard who I think was looking for something to eat, but his search didn't really look that believable, you know?
Anyway, that's why I think they're up to something. They're probably after me because of all the chipmunks and squirrels I relocated this summer. Or maybe the relocated squirrels and chipmunks have made their way back to this neighborhood and they're all going to jump out at me one day and drag me off to the nature reserve and leave me there.
Or maybe I should stop smoking so much crack.
I really don't understand the thrill with egging things. It's not that I haven't done my fair share of damage to property that doesn't belong to me, but usually that damage was done with toilet paper or shaving cream.
But what's the thrill with throwing eggs? Is it the satisfying crack as the egg hits the target? Is it making a mess of a car? Because my car was already really dirty. This is the car that's never been through a car wash. I'll clean the windows at gas stations, and clean it myself about once a year, but usually I just let the rain rinse off the film of grime that normally coats it.
It hasn't rained in a while, though. Maybe it's time for Baby's First Car Wash.
Monday, September 27, 2004
Here are some other banned books I'd recommend:
Harry Potter (but be careful, you might want to become a wizard and practice dark arts afterward)
Where's Waldo (WTF?)
Of Mice and Men (again, I say, WTF?)
The Catcher in the Rye
The Color Purple
The Bluest Eye
To Kill a Mockingbird
Flowers for Algernon
Lord of the Flies
Some of the books on this list, wow. I think it's funny that so many books that are considered classics are on the list.
Whatever. Leave my books alone, please.
Rush Limbaugh vs. Michael Moore: conservative, drug-addicted, butterball versus liberal, well, I don't know about the drugs, but he is a butterball. One wears a suit and pollutes the radio waves, one dresses like a college student and pollutes (say some) the movies.
That stuff you're tasting at the back of your throat? That's bile.
Sunday, September 26, 2004
- my keys
- my brush
- my purse
- the remote
- my glasses
- my sunglasses
- whatever book I'm reading
- one shoe from whatever pair I'm looking for
- my umbrella
- the cordless phone
- the hairdryer
- my watch
- my sanity (although I suppose that's obvious)
Enough of the handwringing! Enough of the doomsaying! Do I have to come there and personally calm you down? Stop with all the defeatism, OK? Bush IS a goner -- IF we all just quit our whining and bellyaching and stop shaking like a bunch of nervous ninnies. Geez, this is embarrassing! The Republicans are laughing at us. Do you ever see them cry, "Oh, it's all over! We are finished! Bush can't win! Waaaaaa!"
Hell no. It's never over for them until the last ballot is shredded. They are never finished -- they just keeping moving forward like sharks that never sleep, always pushing, pulling, kicking, blocking, lying.
They are relentless and that is why we secretly admire them -- they just simply never, ever give up. Only 30% of the country calls itself "Republican," yet the Republicans own it all -- the White House, both houses of Congress, the Supreme Court and the majority of the governorships. How do you think they've been able to pull that off considering they are a minority? It's because they eat you and me and every other liberal for breakfast and then spend the rest of the day wreaking havoc on the planet.
Look at us -- what a bunch of crybabies. Bush gets a bounce after his convention and you would have thought the Germans had run through Poland again. The Bushies are coming, the Bushies are coming! Yes, they caught Kerry asleep on the Swift Boat thing. Yes, they found the frequency in Dan Rather and ran with it. Suddenly it's like, "THE END IS NEAR! THE SKY IS FALLING!"
No, it is not. If I hear one more person tell me how lousy a candidate Kerry is and how he can't win... Dammit, of COURSE he's a lousy candidate -- he's a Democrat, for heavens sake! That party is so pathetic, they even lose the elections they win! What were you expecting, Bruce Springsteen heading up the ticket? Bruce would make a helluva president, but guys like him don't run -- and neither do you or I. People like Kerry run.
Yes, OF COURSE any of us would have run a better, smarter, kick-ass campaign. Of course we would have smacked each and every one of those phony swifty boaty bastards down. But WE are not running for president -- Kerry is. So quit complaining and work with what we have. Oprah just gave 300 women a... Pontiac! Did you see any of them frowning and moaning and screaming, "Oh God, NOT a friggin' Pontiac!" Of course not, they were happy. The Pontiacs all had four wheels, an engine and a gas pedal. You want more than that, well, I can't help you. I had a Pontiac once and it lasted a good year. And it was a VERY good year.
My friends, it is time for a reality check.
1. The polls are wrong. They are all over the map like diarrhea. On Friday, one poll had Bush 13 points ahead -- and another poll had them both tied. There are three reasons why the polls are b.s.: One, they are polling "likely voters." "Likely" means those who have consistently voted in the past few elections. So that cuts out young people who are voting for the first time and a ton of non-voters who are definitely going to vote in THIS election. Second, they are not polling people who use their cell phone as their primary phone. Again, that means they are not talking to young people. Finally, most of the polls are weighted with too many Republicans, as pollster John Zogby revealed last week. You are being snookered if you believe any of these polls.
2. Kerry has brought in the Clinton A-team. Instead of shunning Clinton (as Gore did), Kerry has decided to not make that mistake.
3. Traveling around the country, as I've been doing, I gotta tell ya, there is a hell of a lot of unrest out there. Much of it is not being captured by the mainstream press. But it is simmering and it is real. Do not let those well-produced Bush rallies of angry white people scare you. Turn off the TV! (Except Jon Stewart and Bill Moyers -- everything else is just a sugar-coated lie).
4. Conventional wisdom says if the election is decided on "9/11" (the fear of terrorism), Bush wins. But if it is decided on the job we are doing in Iraq, then Bush loses. And folks, that "job," you might have noticed, has descended into the third level of a hell we used to call Vietnam. There is no way out. It is a full-blown mess of a quagmire and the body bags will sadly only mount higher. Regardless of what Kerry meant by his original war vote, he ain't the one who sent those kids to their deaths -- and Mr. and Mrs. Middle America knows it. Had Bush bothered to show up when he was in the "service" he might have somewhat of a clue as to how to recognize an immoral war that cannot be "won." All he has delivered to Iraq was that plasticized turkey last Thanksgiving. It is this failure of monumental proportions that is going to cook his goose come this November.
So, do not despair. All is not over. Far from it. The Bush people need you to believe that it is over. They need you to slump back into your easy chair and feel that sick pain in your gut as you contemplate another four years of George W. Bush. They need you to wish we had a candidate who didn't windsurf and who was just as smart as we were when WE knew Bush was lying about WMD and Saddam planning 9/11. It's like Karl Rove is hypnotizing you -- "Kerry voted for the war...Kerry voted for the war...Kerrrrrryyy vooootted fooooor theeee warrrrrrrrrr..."
Yes...Yes...Yesssss....He did! HE DID! No sense in fighting now...what I need is sleep...sleeep...sleeeeeeppppp...
WAKE UP! The majority are with us! More than half of all Americans are pro-choice, want stronger environmental laws, are appalled that assault weapons are back on the street -- and 54% now believe the war is wrong. YOU DON'T EVEN HAVE TO CONVINCE THEM OF ANY OF THIS -- YOU JUST HAVE TO GIVE THEM A RAY OF HOPE AND A RIDE TO THE POLLS. CAN YOU DO THAT? WILL YOU DO THAT?
Just for me, please? Buck up. The country is almost back in our hands. Not another negative word until Nov. 3rd! Then you can bitch all you want about how you wish Kerry was still that long-haired kid who once had the courage to stand up for something. Personally, I think that kid is still inside him. Instead of the wailing and gnashing of your teeth, why not hold out a hand to him and help the inner soldier/protester come out and defeat the forces of evil we now so desperately face. Do we have any other choice?
Well, today I didn't notice that my parents bedroom door wasn't open all the way, and I ran straight into the doorknob. I have a bruise on my stomach now.
Stiffie and I were the only two in the theater, too. So we got to sit right in the middle and make comments throughout the movie, which I normally hate but I wasn't worried about bothering anyone because it was basically our theater for a couple hours. I did get kind of paranoid toward the end because I thought someone could sneak in behind us and we'd have no idea because we were so immersed in the movie. This is probably leftover paranoia from all my spy-hallucinations.
Another thing? Justin Timberlake is singing "Rainbow Connection" with Kermit the frog. And Kermit just called Justin a "douchbag." So wrong.
I met Stiffie's new cat, Panda, today too. Panda for some reason likes to climb up onto your shoulder and ram her head into your face. She also thought my sunglasses were a fun new toy from the future.
Well, I don't know if she thought they were from the future. I mean, she's a cat. Do cats really have any sense of time, let alone the future? Probably not. But she thought they were cool anyway.
And, in what was perhaps the saddest part of the day, my cell phone was castrated. It is now without an antenna. Poor guy.
Saturday, September 25, 2004
So I wasn't too surprised when everything I was doing disappeared and an error message popped up. It was still a normal day in the life of my P.O.S. computer. The error message was a little odd, though, and one I've never seen before on my computer or anyone else's, for that matter.
It said SanityCheck and then a bunch of numbers.
SanityCheck? What the hell does that mean?
Thursday, September 23, 2004
The other night I watched a couple of episodes of Alias before bed and I had dreams that I was a spy.
The problem with Olivia Joules is that it starts off innocently enough. She's like Bridget Jones, except she doesn't really care about her weight and she has an overactive imagination (hence the title). But then the novel turns into this whole Jane Bond/secret spy thing.
I probably would have been OK had I only watched Alias or had I only read the book. Both at the same time, not good.
As I was walking to class, I thought someone was following me. Well, he was because he was in my class.
I looked at the straw in my Frappicino (damn you, Starbucks) and wondered if I could use it as a weapon.
I deliberated on what dark organization Starbucks is a cover for.
I searched my room for bugs and phone taps (ok, I didn't, but I totally thought about it).
I wondered if the government was using my cell phone as a tracking device.
As I was sitting in the lobby of Building 9, waiting for my class to start, I started staring at the emergency exit and wondering if I could disable the alarm and get out quickly and quietly if I needed to. Don't ask me why I would need to suddenly run out the emergency exit without making any noise. You just never know when you're an undercover-super-secret-government spy.
Which I am not.
That's my story and I'm sticking to it.
Wednesday, September 22, 2004
I sat through the entire film in a kind of horrified haze, thinking "oh, it can't get any worse than this." YES, IT CAN! And it did. So much worse. And disturbing. And, of course, terribly heartbreaking, but I didn't start crying until the credits were rolling.
I have no idea why.
Just . . . wow. I don't even know what else to say about it.
Tuesday, September 21, 2004
It lists a bunch of drinks on the front, and I'm making a mental checklist of which I've had and which I still need to try.
This coupled with the fact that they just built a Starbucks in the Kroger that is not 5 minutes from my house . . . well, it could be dangerous.
If you're in the Dayton area, and you see someone holding a Starbucks cup jittering down the street like one of the zombies in Dawn of the Dead, that's just me. Don't be afraid. I won't bite.
Unless I lose this magical card. Then I might bite just in case you've had a lot of caffeine.
The previews for the premiere were very misleading. I don't know why that still surprises me. The previews for ER every week are something along the lines of, "This week, on ER . . . someone you know WILL DIE and something you've never seen on TV before WILL HAPPEN. If you miss this, you deserve to have your eyes gouged out, you irresponsible TV-watcher. DON'T. MISS. A MOMENT," and that show is almost always disappointing in some way, like a helicopter FALLING FROM THE SKY and landing on a surgeon. Stupid.
Anyway, the previews for Survivor said not to miss the first ten minutes, which is kind of stupid because if you were going to watch part of a show, wouldn't you watch the beginning anyway?
So, thanks to the helpful preview, I was tuned to CBS right at 8 o'clock so I didn't miss anything. Turns out, I wouldn't have missed much. Basically, some natives of the island rowed out to the boat all the contestants were on and made them get in canoes. Then they rowed back to the island and made them stand in a line while the natives stabbed spears and yelled in their direction. It didn't really look scary, just kind of awkward like, "Oh, man, this guy has really bad breath, where do I look, where do I look?"
Then they made all the women go kneel on these mats off to the side, while the men sat on these benches and were served some sort of drink. The natives brought a live pig out and smashed it in the head (although we didn't see this) and then smeared the blood on the men's faces. This was all part of some "rite of passage" event. The next thing they had to do was retrieve a sacred rock from the top of a pole greased in pig fat. The FBI agent, who I'm going to call Mulder because I can't remember his name, got it on his first try, so I'm not sure how difficult it really was, but maybe that's how the FBI trains it's agents now. Mulder seemed pretty proud of himself.
The women were all kind of pissed off that they didn't get to participate, which I can understand, but I don't think I'd be that upset to miss out on the drink (one of the men said it tasted like mud) and face painting. They ended up winning the challenge anyway, so all was well. I have to say, the whole men-versus-women things is getting really tired. They're doing it on the Apprentice again, and now on Survivor. It just pisses me off that there are always comments like, "Here's to dominating the women" (The Apprentice, thanks, Wes, you a-hole) and "We're 9 big, strapping men, what are those teeny-eeny little women going to do to US?" And then, after the women win, "Wow, I guess we shouldn't count them out." Yeah, I guess not, you misogynistic bastards.
To be fair, not all the men were like that. The guy in the Bob Barker shirt (awesome) comes to mind.
I have to wonder what the natives think of these people. Are they thinking, wow, those Americans must be reeeeeeally bored if this is how they spend their free time. Or, survive out here 39 days? Try 39 years, Probst, and we don't have those fancy buffs. And we know how to make a fire without flint.
I don't know. I think I'd be like "get the hell off my island" but these people are probably nicer than I am.
Monday, September 20, 2004
Here it is . . . Death is Not an Option: Donald Trump vs. Simon Cowell (co-presenters at the Emmy's, reality show darlings).
Basically, what you do is try to decide which of the two is the least disgusting because you HAVE TO have sex with one of them. Death is not an option, hence the name. If you want a more PG-version, then you just have to kiss one of them.
We used to play this as a drinking game at school. Which I'm not going to go into.
Sunday, September 19, 2004
At the moment, I'm watching Sarah Jessica Parker accept her award and I'm actually holding back tears. What is that? Why do I ALWAYS feel the need to shed tears while watching award acceptance speeches?
[sidenote here: Kelsey Grammer? WTF, ever. You know he's only getting it because it was the last year. Same with Sarah Jessica Parker. Tony Shaloub was ROBBED. Anyway.]
So. Yeah. Pretty much whenever I see someone else crying, it makes me want to cry. It doesn't matter what they're crying about. I cry at most movies I see. And if I start crying, and someone asks me what's wrong, it makes me cry more. I hate that. If I'm crying, just ignore me and I'll stop eventually.
The same thing happens when I blush. And I blush A LOT. I really hate that. I don't know if it's because I have pale skin, but it's a problem. I blush when I talk in front of crowds. When I talk in front of more than two people. When I say something dirty. When someone else says something dirty. When I become the focus of attention suddenly. But mostly, I blush when someone points out that I'm blushing. I don't even think it's because I'm embarrassed. I'm not easily embarrassed (anymore), which is a good thing because I embarrass myself frequently.
I think it's a mental thing. Someone points to me and says, "haha, look, you're blushing," and I think "don't blush don't blush stop blushing, won't you please for the love of god STOP your face from turning beet red," but it never works.
So stop it already. Geez, what's your problem?
Saturday, September 18, 2004
Then we went to The Short North Tavern. There was a band there, playing cover songs. I don't really remember any of the songs except that one song that the rapping granny sang in The Wedding Singer. We got a table by the huge window that looks out to the street, so we had a lot of fun watching drunk people stumble down the street. We saw a bunch of middle-aged people practically fall out of a limo, and one of the women kept doing the running man.
Proving once again that I have the smallest bladder in the world, we had to stop at a Shell Station on the ten minute ride back to Kate's house so I could pee. The moment I entered the bathroom, I almost considered turning around and taking my chances, but the need to pee was too much. It was by far the sketchiest bathroom I've ever seen, and I've seen some sketchy bathrooms. I'm not going into details, because I'd prefer to wipe them from my memory.
When we got back to Kate's house, we were sitting around watching TV (and eating toast and drinking water, of course). Both of us were starting to lose our voices, so we started making strange screechy/howly noises. Her dog, Lily, kept doing that thing where dogs cock their head to the side like they're trying to understand what you're saying. Eventually, she just started howling and Kate and I thought it was the funniest thing we'd ever seen. This went on for about 10 minutes. I was laughing so hard I almost couldn't breathe.
Today I went to a cookout at my aunt's house. Sometimes I wonder where my cousin Sammy came from. He is by far the weirdest child I've ever met. I don't know if I can properly convey just how bizarre he is, but he cracks me up. He's in first or second grade (I forget) now, and I keep thinking maybe he'll outgrow his weirdness. Thankfully, he hasn't yet.
When he was a little younger, he and his brothers were all in the backseat of the car. They were messing around and fighting, like brothers do. Suddenly Sammy yells, "Hey, you hit me in my crouch!" His older brother, Zach, laughs and says, "It's not your crouch, it's your crotch." And Sammy, wonderful, strange, Sammy, goes, "Crotch? I call mine The King."
This is the same boy that, while I was babysitting, danced around the living room in his underwear singing, "I love my weiner! I love my weiner!"
And I guess if he named it The King, he really, truly does.
Friday, September 17, 2004
We walked past groups of ducks at least 4 or 5 times, and each time Ripley kind of glanced at them and then ignored them. She was much more interested in trying to eat all the duck poop littering the pavement.
The next time we walked by the SAME ducks she'd walked by before, she took off. When she came to the end of her leash, she kind of jerked in the air. I hadn't even been paying attention, because I was too busy listening to Rooney and staring at the ducks swimming in the pond, but I definitely noticed when she almost ripped my arm out of socket.
I guess it could have been worse. She could have dragged me through the park or made me drop the leash and then I would have had to go chasing her into the pond, because I'm sure that's where she would have headed.
Thursday, September 16, 2004
I'm so glad he got fired. Every time he was onscreen, he always had this surprised look on his face and I just wanted to poke him in his non-blinking eyes. Plus, he used the word "boobies" on the show tonight. Who says that? I mean, besides 10-year-olds. Who, according to Carolyn, would have done a better job selling ice cream than the women did.
I realize that I've been signing songs from Moulin Rouge for the past 10 minutes.
My stomach kind of hurts.
I've peed 8 times in the last half hour.
Whenn I tyype,, it kinnddaaaaa looookssss like thiss s.
I don't normally skip around the house.
I stab myself in the eye with my finger when I try to put in my contacts.
My hair is sticking up in strange places because I forgot to blow-dry it all the way.
The tapping of my foot causes things to fall off my desk.
I cry when I pour the last bit of coffee into my cup.
I can't seem to quit posting things to my blog.
Maybe I hate them because I can't get away with not wearing one, unless I'm wearing a very baggy sweatshirt. But with my luck, I'd probably be hit by a car or something and when they took me to the hospital the doctors would see that I wasn't wearing a bra.
Most likely I hate them because I've been wearing one since 4th grade. I was the first in my class to get one. You'd think this would make me mysterious, but no. I was teased relentlessly when changing for gym class, and boys would run up behind me and snap the back strap as hard as they could. That freaking hurts! Even when it is just a training bra. Training bra. What a horrible name. Training for what? A future of inconvenience and pain? Great.
That's 13 years of bra wearing. And there are many more years to come. Which means I'll be forced to go bra shopping for quite a while.
I hate bra shopping. Even at Victoria's Secret, where all the bras are pretty and frilly and so so silky. I hate bra shopping because it seems like there is no rhyme or reason to bra sizes. Bras, much like jeans, differ by brands. Is this necessary? Couldn't we just make every 36C the same size? Same with 34A and 44DD (yes, they make them that big, and bigger, I saw them in the store yesterday). That way I wouldn't have to try on 30 different bras every time I go bra shopping. I have to do this because I've never really found a bra I completely love, so I'm always looking for that elusive creature that I will love and treasure above all other inferior bras.
I hate trying on bras. It's a pain in the ass (chest?) because the bras all come on these weird hangers that twist the straps through all these nooks and crannies and you will never NEVER be able to hang them like that again so just throw them on the floor with all the other discarded bras and let the sales associate take care of it.
She'll understand. She'll recognize the look of panic and despair on your face as you walk out of the stall, empty-handed (again!) even though you went in with 10 bras of various shapes, sizes, and colors. She's been there.
I haven't even talked about sports bras yet. But I hate those, too. They provide the most support of all. If your bra is over a certain size, don't try running without a sports bra. You know who you are. You've tried running without one, with your arms crossed over your chest, but you look silly so stop. You'll hurt yourself. Just put on a sports bra! They're comfortable, right? Look at all that stretchy material.
They're not comfortable. Well, they can be, but not for long periods of time. They have a job to do, and that job is to squish and smash your boobs into submission. Nothing can be held in captivity for long without serious consequences.
Also? They give you uniboob, and that's not attractive EVER.
Wednesday, September 15, 2004
No. This is just stupid. Hummers in the suburbs are bad enough.
Tuesday, September 14, 2004
I walked into an almost full classroom, after successfully navigating myself from Building 14, through the parking garage, up the stairs and through Building 13, and finally arriving at room 308 in Building 9. Why is Building 13 connected to Building 9? Where are buildings 10, 11, and 12? I don't know, and hope I never have to find out.
The professor walked in 5 minutes late. She looked to be about 45 or 50, which salt and pepper hair, a long skirt, and sensible shoes. She fumbled with her papers for a moment, then found her roster and began to write names on the board. We were all looking around the room, at the 30 other students, wondering why she was taking the time to write all of our names down.
Then she turned around and started signing to us. Ok. She wrote, "I am Deaf Teacher" on the board. OH!
She then took turns pointing to each of us, telling us to finger spell our names. Some people could do it quickly and easily and could even sign other things. Some people had no idea what to do. For those people she signed each letter and had them copy her.
I was one of the first to go. I knew most of the alphabet because we learned it when I was in 1st grade. I can't remember most of my high school Spanish, but I could remember that. J-E-N-N-I- I couldn't remember F, so she showed me. F-E-R-B-A-X-L-A. Easy, right?
Well, it's fairly easy to spell things when you know the alphabet. It's harder to figure out what someone else is spelling.
For the rest of the class, we practiced asking each other our names, and then responding with "my name is Blahdy McBlahpants. Then she taught us a few more words, like love, hate, same, different, colors, shapes, chair, sit, and most importantly, practice.
We also learned the very important difference between "nice to meet you" and "nice to DATE you."
I'm going to get my book tomorrow, so I can actually practice and be able to see if I'm doing it right. I can't wait to go back to the class. I love how quiet it is in the room, because we're so focused on what the professor is signing. It's strange to be in a lecture, and yet it's completely silent.
I love it.
I was going to go to bed at a decent hour last night, but I started to read Alice Sebold's Lucky. It's a memoir about the time she was raped her freshman year at Syracuse. I read about half of it last night before finally passing out, but this book is amazing. She is raped in pretty much the most brutal way you can imagine, and she tells it with some pretty vivid details. Parts of it are really hard to read. I think rapists should have to read the first chapter (where she outlines her rape) over and over. I just cannot express how affecting this book is.
I hope I have time between my classes today to read it because I really want to finish it today. I should have known not to start it until I had time to read it all the way through, because the same thing happened when I read The Lovely Bones (also by Sebold). I got it as a gift on Christmas Day, and I finished it around 4 AM the next morning.
People talk about what a bitch nicotine or caffeine addiction is, but I really think I'm addicted to reading. I know I shouldn't read for hours on end. It's bad for my eyes and I really should be asleep by 2 AM, but I can't help myself.
If books were a drug, I'd smoke them.
If they were a drink, I'd do shots of them.
Monday, September 13, 2004
I promise I'll try to learn how to sign all the dirty words and post them on here.
Which could be difficult, because I'll have to take pictures of myself signing.
I had this really great entry about bras that I tried to post earlier today, but Blogger ate it or something. I was going to try to recreate it, but I'm not in a very bra mood right now.
I promise to rewrite it later.
But I can't promise that it'll be good. Or interesting (although what about bras ISN'T interesting?)
It might even be disturbing to some of you.
You know who you are.
I know you're afraid of bras.
It's OK, though.
Bras can be scary.
I wonder how many more Google hits I'll get now that I've typed "bra" so many times.
Sunday, September 12, 2004
But mostly I listen to it because all the other radio stations play the same 20 songs over and over.
Anyway, this song always reminds me of that bit in Tommy Boy when they're listening to the radio, and when this song comes on neither one wants to change it. And they end up sobbing and singing along.
Just thought I'd share.
WTF is this, though? Now they're playing Sheryl Crow. It's supposed to be an All-70's-weekend, Lite 99! What are you doing?
I don't really remember what the dreams were about, just a couple of bits. Like, I was in J.C. Penney's at one point, trying to buy some clothes, but the total came out to some ungodly amount. The cashier told me that if I found some old receipt he'd take off 10% or something. So I turn around and there's this huge bookcase full of loose papers and I started running around and freaking out because I couldn't find the right receipt.
Whatever. The weirdest part of the dream was when I started feeding my fish pieces of ham.
Yeah, I have no idea.
Tonight there were two people actually swimming in the pond, which I wouldn't recommend for anyone but ducks and dogs. And even then, I wouldn't really recommend it. We don't let our dog swim in the pond unless she's getting a bath the next day because she ends up smelling like . . . well, like nothing I've ever smelled before. The closest I've come to smelling something similar is when the basement of our apartment last year flooded with sewage. That doesn't make me feel good about what's in the water in the pond.
There was a peewee football game going on up at the middle school. I used to cheer for the Wee Wildcats back in the day. Frightening, I know.
I wanted to go up to one of the little cheerleaders, in her cute little outfit, and say, "Behold! I am your future," but I didn't want to scare her.
Saturday, September 11, 2004
What's even more strange is that the weather today is so similar to how it was three years ago.
The NY Times has a nice slide-show thing about remember 9/11. Check it out. You have to be a member to see it, but I'd recommend signing up anyway. It's free (!!!) and you can get the headlines sent to your e-mail every day.
Also, whenever I think of 9/11, I think of this journal entry I read back in 2001. It's really powerful, so I'll post that here, too:
For thou art with us.
Friday, September 10, 2004
Why would you play frisbee golf in the dark? Can you even see the targets? At least twice while I was watching, they threw one of their discs in the pond and had to wade in and get them. I can understand this happening once, but the second time it happens wouldn't you maybe stop playing?
Because they sure didn't.
I like to imagine they're still out there, whipping their frisbees across the pond. Until they hit a duck or something, in which case they'd probably run away so they don't get in trouble. Like in About a Boy when Marcus throws the loaf of bread at a duck and kills it. I love that movie.
I don't even know what I'm saying right now, so I think I'm gonna go.
But, hello! Stiffler's mom is on the show! I had no idea she was on it until I saw the show's intro. Awesome.
Also? I hope the fake boob jokes stop immediately. Really. It's all, "oooh, Joey's sister has fake boobs, they're big and fake and men stare, like haha, not," and that's just tiresome.
The Apprentice started last night, too, which makes me happy. Seriously, hearing the opening credits made me giddy. I love that show.
I watched part of that show, Medical Investigation, but lost interest pretty quickly. Could they have given it a more generic name? Why not just call it, "NYCSIER" because that's what it is.
Thursday, September 09, 2004
Sounds weird, I know, but for some reason I always fall to sleep when I do this. I've done it since I was little.
Does anyone else have weird sleep-inducing methods?
Interesting, although not really that surprising, and not that it really matters since they can't vote.
Maybe everyone should get to vote in this election no matter what country they're in, since one of the candidates is trying to take over the entire world anyway.
I'll leave it up to you to figure out which candidate that is.
Wednesday, September 08, 2004
I took my dog for a walk around 8 tonight, thinking I still had a bit of daylight. Not so much. The days have gotten shorter than I thought. I took her up to the area by our house, with the pond, the park, and the track where they play peewee football.
Soon the area was deserted. The sky was a dark gray, wind had gotten chillier and was blowing stray leaves across the path in front of me. Suddenly it's fall. It's Halloween and I'm 9 again, running from house to house and tripping over my costume. It's the night of our first track meet in 10th grade, the night Jeremy wore those navy blue knee socks and when he ran the 400 it looked like his legs were cut off at the knee. It's football games, my favorite purple sweater, pumpkin carving, the first wild party of the year, and running home, laughing, from the bar because suddenly it's too cold for short sleeves.
For a few days, anyway, until the warm weather returns for one last fling
Jack: Oh, hey. Sorry. I didn’t see you.
Helen: That’s ok. Whatcha doing?
Jack: Just looking at the sky.
Helen: Is your TV broken?
Jack: No. Why?
Helen: No reason. Mind if I sit?
Jack: Of course. But there’s a very important rule you must follow.
Helen: What’s that?
Jack: No talking.
Helen: Why not?
Jack: Shh. No talking.
Helen: Right. Ay ay, captain.
Jack: Do you see that?
Helen: I thought you said no talking.
Jack: I changed my mind. See it?
Jack: Right there. It looks like a . . . a lion holding an ice cream cone.
Helen: Have you been smoking something?
Jack: No, seriously, look at it. It totally looks like a lion. Or maybe a flying couch.
Helen: Oh, sure. Yeah, I see that.
Jack: What about over there? Do you see that one?
Helen: Uh, yeah. It’s a really cool . . . cloud?
Jack: It’s not JUST a cloud.
Helen: You’re right. It’s billions of water particles holding hands.
Jack: Ah, Helen. So young, so cynical.
Helen: I do what I can.
Jack: Very nice. Are you sure you’re looking?
Helen: I’m staring at the same sky you are.
Jack: I guess so.
Helen: What’s that supposed to mean?
Jack: Well, you’re just seeing clouds up there.
Helen: Jack? They ARE just clouds.
Jack: No, no, no. They’re not just clouds.
Helen: Well, if they’re not clouds then what the hell are they?
Jack: Whatever you want them to be.
Helen: Fine. I see a cloud.
Jack: No. See that one over there? It looks like a fish wearing a top hat.
Helen: I don’t see it.
Jack: There. Right over by the—
Helen: I said I don’t see it.
Jack: Oh. Ok.
Helen: I’m sorry.
Jack: You don’t have to apologize.
Helen: Well, what do you want me to say?
Jack: Nothing. It’s just . . .
Jack: You used to see them. You know. The clouds.
Tuesday, September 07, 2004
I'm not a complete slob. It's not like I leave half eaten sandwiches all over the house. It's just that my room tends to be cluttered. The whole "putting things away in their proper place" is completely lost on me, and always has been. I think that's why I misplace things so often. My brain is always jumping to something else before I can put something back where it belongs.
Remember in elementary school when the teacher would inspect everyone's desk? My 4th grade teacher, Mrs. Castrejon, had an interesting inspection method. She'd walk around the room, peeking in and out of desks, and if she deemed the desk too messy she'd dump it on the floor.
My desk got dumped on the floor almost every time. I suppose I should have been embarrassed, crawling around on the floor, knee-deep in old spelling tests, but I always thought it was kind of funny. Even now, the thought of a grown woman tipping over a child's desk makes me laugh. I don't want you to think that what she did was out of cruelty or the need to humiliate a child. She actually had a good idea. It was much easier to tidy up the desk once all the crap had been dumped out.
My room at home wasn't much better. In fact, if I remember correctly, I was sent to clean it every Saturday. My dad would go to work in the morning and say, "This room had better be spotless when I get home," but hours later he'd come in and I'd inevitably be sitting in a pile of clothes, reading some forgotten book that I had just unearthed from my closet.
Things aren't much different now. My room is often a cluttered mess. The biggest difference is that I clean it now without being told. I let things stack up throughout the week (or longer). Clean clothes piled on the dresser, papers scattered on the desk, towers of books stacked precariously wherever there's room. But at some point, usually when I'm supposed to be doing homework or something, I'll stop everything because I've realized what a mess my room is.
I did this last night. I was supposed to be reading Heart of Darkness (dear god, NO MORE), but instead I spent an hour cleaning. I changed my sheets, I put my books back in the bookcase, I straightened up my desk, I dusted, I THREW STUFF AWAY, and that almost never happens. I even went into the bathroom and refolded and rehung the handtowels.
I don't know where these little bouts of OCD come from, or why they pop up when they do, but one thing about them is always the same.
Febreze. I'm obsessed with the stuff. I spray it on everything, my bed, my carpet, my dog. I am exactly like those weirdos in the commercials who keep sniffing their Febrezed items over and over.
Maybe if I talk about it enough, they'll send me some free Febreze or something.
Anyway, I don't worry too much about my cluttered ways anymore. My friend Amy said she was the same way in elementary school, with the messy desk and the messy room, and her teacher told her parents that messiness is a sign of genius.
Monday, September 06, 2004
Sunday, September 05, 2004
Here's one small reason I hope Bush loses this election: nobody can play him like Will Ferrell. There's a new guy who does him (I can't remember his name) but it's just not the same. Will Ferrell was just too funny. If he loses, then they won't have to imitate him every week. I guess there's one bright side to Bush winning (the only bright side). If he wins, maybe they'll talk Will Ferrell into guesting on SNL so he can lambaste the president one more time.
Although, Bush doesn't have to win for that to happen, so let's go with this scenario. They'd announce that Kerry won the election, but Bush would get up and act like he won. It'd be just like Zoolander, when Hansel wins Best Male Model, but Derek gets confused and goes to the stage to make his acceptance speech.
Lindsay Lohan hosted one of the episodes last night, and they did a sketch where Rachel Dratch plays Debbie Downer. Everyone is having a great time at Disney World (although, I'm still not sure how that's possible) but Debbie keeps bringing everyone down.
The best thing about this sketch is that everyone in it completely loses it and starts laughing. Some of them hid it pretty well (Amy Poehler) but most of them were just completely laughing (Lindsay Lohan, Jimmy Fallon). It was so funny.
I think there's a fine line when that kind of thing happens. Sometimes it's annoying, especially when it happens with the same cast members on a regular basis. Jimmy Fallon, Horatio Sanz, I'm looking at you. But at times like that, it's funnier than if they had run through the sketch perfectly.
There was one sketch a few years ago when Julianna Marguiles hosted. She was at dinner with her new boyfriend, Chris Parnell. Ana Gasteyer and Will Ferrell played Parnell's parents, and Chris Kattan played his little brother. The sketch starts out fine, but then Ferrell starts chewing some food and he spits it in Parnell's mouth, like a mother and baby bird. I don't think I've ever experienced that strange mixture of laughter, fascination, and absolute horror before, especially when they just kept doing it! I'm not surprised that they all lost it and started laughing, because how could you not? That was another one of those situations where it worked out that everyone cracked up. I think Will Ferrell is responsible for a lot of those moments.
I felt bad for Rachel Dratch, though, because here she is trying to be Debbie Downer, all pessimistic and depressed and she can't stop cracking up.
They kept doing close-ups on her face whenever she said something depressing, and her expression was priceless.
Seriously. Check it out.
Saturday, September 04, 2004
Once junior year I accidently called my Home home (you know, where the parents live) at 2 AM on the way home from the bar.
I was trying to call my friend and I was very confused when my mom answered.
Friday, September 03, 2004
1. Bold the titles for the movies you've watched in their entirety.01. Trainspotting
2. Italicize the titles for the movies you've only partially watched.
3. Add three titles of your own choosing to the list.
4. Add a link to your list in the comments.
05. Strictly Ballroom
06. The Princess Bride
07. Love Actually
08. The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring
09. The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers
10. The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King
11. Reservoir Dogs
14. Kill Bill Vol. 1
15. Donnie Darko
16. Spirited Away
17. Better Than Sex
18. Sleepy Hollow
19. Pirates of the Caribbean
20. The Eye
21. Requiem for a Dream
22. Dawn of the Dead
23. The Pillow Book
24. The Italian Job
25. The Goonies
27. The Spice Girls Movie
28. Army of Darkness
29. The Color Purple
30. The Safety of Objects
31. Can't Hardly Wait
32. Mystic Pizza
33. Finding Nemo
34. Monsters Inc.
35. Circle of Friends
36. Mary Poppins
37. The Bourne Identity
38. Forrest Gump
39. A Clockwork Orange
40. Kindergarten Cop
41. On The Line
42. My Big Fat Greek Wedding
43. Final Destination
44. Sorority Boys
45. Urban Legend
46. Cheaper by the Dozen
47. The Crow
48. The Princess and the Warrior
50. Hard Core Logo
51. Phantom of the Paradise
53. Lost in Translation
54. American Beauty
55. Big Fish
56. Starship Troopers
57. Starship Troopers 2
58. The Lost Boys
59. All About Eve
61. Swept Away
63. Velvet Goldmine
65. The Prophecy
66. The Secret of Roan Inish
67. Rugrats: The Movie
68. Fight Club
69. The Good, the Bad & the Ugly
70. Mystery Science Theater 3000: the Movie
71. The Shining
72. Run Lola Run
75. Naked Lunch
78. The Maltese Falcon
79. Cat Soup
80. Better than Chocolate
81. Out of Africa
83. Office Space
84. Lost Horizon
85. Inn of the Sixth Happiness
86. City of God
88. Rabbit Proof Fence
89. I'm With Lucy
90. A Life Less Ordinary
91. Dream for an Insomniac
93. About a Boy
Looking at that list, I think I've spent waaaaaaaaay too much time watching movies, especially when I can think of a lot more that I've seen that aren't even on the list.
I'd never heard of Fingerhut until tonight, but he's awesome. And not just because of his name, either.
People need to stay out of my personal bubble.
There were an obscene amount of people there. Yay Springfield! Way to show up.
I only saw one person protesting. He looked lonely with his poor little Bush/Cheney sign. I think I heard some other people chanting outside at one point, but they were gone by the time we got out there.
I still really like John Edwards.
John Kerry is as weird looking in person as he is on TV, but at least he pronounced all of the words in his speech correctly.
The people at the rally really, really, REALLY didn't like Bush, which suited me just fine.
There was such an energetic, hopeful vibe. I'm so glad I went, even though my feet hurt (which is my own fault, because who would think wearing $4 sandals from Old Navy to stand around for hours would be a good idea) and I am all sweaty and dirty.
And I got a sign and a button. I wanted to get one of those yard signs, even though I don't think my dad would ever let me put it in the yard where people could actually see it.
I still think it'd be funny if we had a Bush/Cheney sign AND a Kerry/Edwards sign in the yard.
Thursday, September 02, 2004
OK, Springfield isn't that bad, it's just not that big of a city.
Kerry is speaking around 11:30 or midnight, after Bush speaks at the RNC. He'll be responding to whatever spews out of Dubya's mouth, so it should be interesting.
Wednesday, September 01, 2004
I loved Napster. Those were the days before we knew what a heinous crime it was to download songs for free, stealing the food from poor Britney's mouth. I heard that Eminem had to sell his daughter into slave labor just to make ends meet.
Anyway. There are songs on these CDs that I have absolutely no recollection of. I couldn't tell you who sings them. I don't know any of the words. I mean, I would think that I stole these CDs from someone else if they didn't have my handwriting on them.
It also would have helped if I'd labeled the CDs better. You know, if I'd written some of the artists and songs on the actual CD, so I'd know what the hell was on it. Instead, I named the CDs things like:
Songs from CDs I Sold
CD I Burned Instead of Writing My Paper
I Don't Know What's on this CD, Just Play it
Guster-fied (at least I know what's on this one)
I Hate the Library
Finals are Over! Celebracion!
Valentine's Day Sucks Balls
And my personal favorite, Get the Hell Out of Ohio, which I made before spring break junior year. All the songs have something to do with the beach, or leaving, or being on vacation. I think. I'm sure there's something weird on there.
I'm listening to the Napster Mix right now. Some guy is singing some song. I have no idea who he is. I have no idea what this song is. I swear I've never heard it before.
But I kinda like it.