So Robert made me join this Facebook group called A Mixtape Club. The idea is that you sign up to make a mix for someone else and the officers of the group match you with another member who signed up for that month, and then you make mixes for each other. It started in August, and I missed the boat. The theme for August was Your Life, where Track 1 was supposed to be your birth, Track 2 was kindergarten, so on and so forth, until you got to Track 20 - Death. I kind of liked that idea, and was excited to see what this month's theme was. Unfortunately, everyone kind of shat the bed this month so September's theme is "Make Your Own!" FUCK. I've gone through like twenty billion different ideas, and I finally just an hour ago settled on making a CD of songs that were released in the years since I was born. For example:
1986: Europe - The Final Countdown
1987: Guns N Roses - Out Ta Get Me
1988: Jane's Addiction - Jane Says
1989: Motley Crue - Kickstart My Heart
1990: Salt N Pepa - Let's Talk About Sex
I realize I'm not being incredibly original with these but this project is seriously sapping my will to live. I'm only signing up next time if I know for a fact that there's going to be a definite theme. And I'm not going to spend 15 stupid dollars on iTunes next time either! Next month whoever I get signed up with is just going to have to deal with a mix of songs selected from the 5 CDs I have uploaded!!!!
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Every Once in a While, I Rediscover www.OverheardInNewYork.com
Tween boy #1: Did you see her monkey?
Tween boy #2: She has a monkey?
Tween boy #1: The monkey in her pants, tard.
Tween boy #2: She has a monkey in her pants?
Tween boy #1: You need to watch more porn.
Tween boy #2: Porn with monkeys? My brother is right, I'm not ready for any of this.
Tween boy #2: She has a monkey?
Tween boy #1: The monkey in her pants, tard.
Tween boy #2: She has a monkey in her pants?
Tween boy #1: You need to watch more porn.
Tween boy #2: Porn with monkeys? My brother is right, I'm not ready for any of this.
I hope I did the iambic pentameter part right.
Hey guys! Kyle made a survey, and then I answered the questions. Feel free to answer them yourself and post them on the internetz! You know in High Fidelity, how Rob briefly describes how he, Dick, and Barry discussed that the important stuff is what you like, not what you are like? And then Barry actually went and typed up a survey and gave it to some potential date, like an asshole?
I think this would be my survey. It's got everything: drama, pathos, a thinly veiled and seemingly jokey inquiry into your last sexual conquest...what else is there to know about a person, really?
ANYWAY, mai ansirz. Let meh sho u them.
1. What did you have for breakfast five days ago (If you didn't eat breakfast five days ago please instead substitute what you ate five breakfasts ago for you answer; if you don't eat breakfast for any reason - be it ideological, religious, or fear-based - please explain further)?
I probably had a Special K bar and half a litre of water.
2. Are you nice?
No, unfortunately. I'm kind of a bad person; I lord my intelligence and wit over those less generously endowed, and use them as excuses to be isolated from others. It's all a ruse to protect my deep-seated insecurities.
3. How many jobs do you currently hold?
I'm a student. Anyone who thinks that's a "job" is being too kind.
4. Take off that stupid-ass hat. That's not a question, just do it.
You should know by now that hats aren't part of what I do.
5. Remember when we used to pass around surveys through email rather than MySpace? Wasn't that great? Isn't instant nostalgia wonderful? Do you have a nostalgic email-based memory you'd like to share? If not, go light up a cigarette and jump to the last few questions, 'cause this isn't working for you at all and I can tell, you're just phoning it in.
I actually never filled in those surveys. I DO, however, have a nostalgic email-based memory I'd like to share. Remember those "You might be a ___ " emails that used to get sent around? I loved those. The one about Indians (You might be an Indian if you have an enormous jug of canola oil under your kitchen counter) or the one about Houstonians (You might be from Houston if you come across a puddle whose bottom you can't see and attempt to drive through it) are two I can recall readily.
6. What's a pet peeve you've never told anyone?
I hate air guitar. So much. As a former Air Guitar Perp myself, I feel guilty about this.
7a. Are you worried about something?
Not particularly. I mean, I'm worried about the future, but it's only in an "intangible sense of doom" kind of way. I'm worried about not having seen all the Cameron Crowe movies. I'm worried about not being a good writer. But I assume all these things will come either to a tidy resolution or one with which I can at least reconcile myself.
7b. Should you get over it?
Uh, yes.
8. Defend your love for something ridiculous:
I love my electric blue jumpsuit and I don't see why you can't accept that. It's electric fucking blue. It has big 80's shoulders (but not shoulder pads, that's just the way it's cut). It has a high waist (but not so high as to make me look like half a torso on stilts) and a fetchingly deep v-neck. It's very flattering since it manages to be somewhat provocative without being obvious - by showing no cleavage at all, merely sternum. And I wore it with a belt that's motherfucking tizzight.
9. This is the part of the survey that you give us a loosely detailed of what you look like so we can get a decent image of you in our head that we can use while we masturbate in the shower tomorrow morning before work:
This question made me laugh out loud.
10. Is there a God?
In the Judeo-Christian sense, no. But I do believe in some kind of higher power, or greater force, that is by definition unquantifiable through any standards known to man. I believe that this power or force is largely beneficent, but that there's nothing you can do to ingratiate yourself to the power or force. That said, I do think karma exists in some capacity; I just don't know WHAT capacity. Or maybe it lets me sleep better at night to know that I'm trying the best that I can, and other people are trying the best that they can, and that the energy you put out into the world will one day return to you in kind.
Also taken into account: my mom once told me that it doesn't matter what God or gods your friends pray to - just think of them as many different facets of the same force - different names for the same person, different words for the same concept.
11. What's the best album no one's listening to?
I don't know. And if I did I wouldn't tell you. I don't like telling people about underground bands that I love because it makes me sound like a fake-snotty fuckin' hipster. I might be all of those things, but part of that condition is that I don't tell other people about it.
12a. What about your parents (or legal guardians) do you love?
I love that they...um...care so fucking much.
12b. What about them do you hate?
It drives me crazy that they can't divorce their caring from being realistic about anything.
13. Rene Descartes said, "Cogito ergo sum." Can you believe that French ponce, speaking two languages and NEITHER of them being English? Expand on your indignation; extra jingoism and unfounded "patriotic" claims are a plus (5 bonus points for including a drawing of the American flag):
God, I'm pretty sure most Americans don't speak English either.
14. When was the first time you kissed a member of the sex you're currently attracted to?
Long enough ago that I'm pretty sure I'm entering into a third virginity.
15. What do you wish were different in your life?
You know.
16. "Fight Club" or "The Matrix?"
Fight Club, what the fuck kind of question is that?
17. When were you last scared out of your mind?
I don't think I've ever been legitimately scared out of my mind; any time I start to get even a little nervous a little piece of my mind breaks off and talks calmly through the whole experience: "don't worry, you'll be fine, just one step in front of the other and soon you'll be done..." and so on. Sometimes it helps for me to say this out loud, which is why I talk when i ski. I'm terrified of skiing anything more difficult than an easy blue, so when I get forced to go on harder runs I just talk myself through it.
18a. What household chore do you hate the most?
Dishes.
18b. Which household chore do you like the most?
Laundry. It's calming to do the sorting and the procedures of it, as well as the final product of a pile of folded, clean, sorted clothes is fulfilling.
19. What's something commonplace that everyone else does that you don't do?
I don't go to bars to meet people. I don't go anywhere to meet people.
20. When was the first time you overcame embarrassment?
Um, never?
21. Who was your last phone call to? Who was the last phone call you received from?
I last spoke to Kyle on the phone!
22. Define "freedom":
Getting to do whatever I want, as long as it doesn't hurt anyone else.
23. Where's your favorite place to eat that everyone should know about?
I tend to keep my favourite places to eat under wraps, because I don't like eating in busy restaurants. The service tends to suck when a place gets "discovered".
24. What do you regret?
Not much; I tend to try to live my life in a way that - if I looked back on it at some future date - I wouldn't be able to say that I would have chosen another route.
25. What makes you feel charitable? Why?
When an ambulance comes up behind you and all the traffic splits so it can go by. I dunno, it just speaks to the human capacity for empathy and a sense of urgency on someone else's behalf (even if it is mandated by law) that is comforting.
26. Who was the best Beatle?
Ringo. I feel sorry for him.
27a. Which "Saved By the Bell" cast member could you outduel in a match of wits?
*sigh* Any of them?
27b. Which one would you take on a date to The Max?
It's The Maxx, Kyle. XX.
27c. Which one could you take in a fight (NOTE: Don't say "Slater," because he was the best wrestler at Bayside and he'd whup your punk fuckin' ass, it's a fact, just admit it)?
Zach. He seems like he'd be too much in his own head to fight effectively, and the girls all had those terrifying acrylic nails.
28. Where is Vice President Dick Cheney? Seriously, where is he? He shot that one guy, i guess, and now...now it's like...God, you know...fuckin'...I don't even know. I don't even know, you know? It's crazy. It's totally crazy. God. Seriously though, where is he?
In the Death Star? I believe in the idea that it was blown up in the Star Wars movie as some great conspiracy to make us believe that it didn't exist anymore.
29. How do you make the magic fortune in a fortune cookie come true? Explain your procedure.
Blow on the paper on which your fortune is written, then tear it in half. There's also some stuff about chicken blood in there, but I won't get into it.
30a. What don't you do enough of?
Think.
30b. What do you do too much of?
Talk.
31. Is honesty the best policy?
Not always.
32. Reality TV: for or against?
I'm against anything even loosely based in reality.
33. No one cares if you drink or smoke. The real question is: Mescaline or Acid?
Mescaline. Acid. I thought they were the same thing. L7!!!!!!!!!!
34. What's your definition of "First Base?" "Second?" "Third?" "Home?"
1st: Kissing. Makeouts?
2nd: Heavy petting, bottoms on.
3rd: Bottoms off.
Home: Butt sex. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.
35. What are you getting out of life: what you want, what you earned, or what you deserve?
That's a good question. Right now it's what I want. Hopefully it always will be that way.
36. Chuck Klosterman asked this once in an essay in ESPN: The Magazine, and I paraphrase: If the predominant number of athletes in the National Football League are using performance-enhancing drugs, can it still be considered cheating?
The saving grace of this question is that Chuck Klosterman is involved somehow. The answer is: yes, it can still be considered cheating because it's not the baseline requirement. Au naturale is still the baseline, and I understand that there are some players who manage to keep up without using drugs. As soon as it becomes impossible for a drug-free player to participate, THEN it will not be considered cheating. Right?
37. What's on your desktop of your computer?
38. What do you collect?
Pain.
39. Best videogame of all time, hands down:
Chaos Island. Look it up.
40a. What was the best thing that happened in elementary school?
Oh my god, nothing good happened to me in elementary school. Seriously, it was 7 straight years of bad haircuts, rejection, second-hand clothing (suspenders were an item on heavy rotation - I'm not even kidding) and embarrassing gestures knocking shit off my desk. I tried to pretend like I was over it, but I couldn't even embrace my freakdom wholeheartedly.
40b. In Middle school / junior high?
See above, though the clothing in these years were just completely nerdy: my jeans were tapered, I wore loafers.
40c. In high school?
See above. The clothing in these years were bordering on "weird" but I hadn't completely raised the freak flag yet.
40d. In College?
See above. The clothing is still bad but at least I've stopped caring.
40e. Oh, come on...seriously, you went to grad school? God...okay, fine. The best thing that happened in grad school. No wait, let me guess...you made a million dollars when you got out, right? Was that your answer, you asskisser? You're terrible.
*crying*
41a. Ever fired a gun?
No.
41b. At someone?
UM, NO?
42. Can you do any superhuman tricks? Like, are you double-jointed and other freakish things of that nature?
No. I'm glad enough to be characterized as just average-human.
43. Describe the perfect birthday:
PRESENTS. PRESENTS. PRESENTS. PRESENTS. I don't even care what the presents are. I just love receiving them. In previous years I would have cited a drunken night on the town, but honestly I would really like to have all my friends in one room, watching movies, conversing, and in general being clever and loving life.
44. Do you want to go to the Moon?
No.
45. There's no way out! It's hopeless! An impossible task is at hand! How are we possibly going to escape?! Save us:
*nervous meltdown*
46. Where do we as humans go from here?
Complete annihilation. Humans have evolved as much as they're going to by this point (as is evidenced by the existence of such things as Cirque du Soleil and reality TV), so eventually the world will evolve without us and we will die out. I'm totally fine with this.
47. Aren't you excited that this survey's almost over? Display your feelings in iambic pentameter (if you can't, perhaps you can go in a corner and play with a tiny rubber ball or your PSP, you know, something else that instantly shows the world you have a lower IQ than absolutely everyone you see):
I can't believe I'm almost done.
This survey certainly was fun.
I'm glad you sent it to me, babe.
Here's one good reason you're my fave.
48. Where were you when the Twin Towers fell?
Skipping chapel, my sophomore year of high school.
49. I'm funnier than you. How are you coping with that?
I think I'll manage.
50a. What will you do today that will make it better than yesterday?
Probably smoke a lot of weed and get drizzunk biatch!
50b. It was gay to end on that question, and I'm sorry. I thought it would wrap things up nicely. If you liked it, cool, 'cause that's the end. But if you hated it, here's one last question: If you could kill someone and you knew one hundred percent beyond a shadow of a doubt that you could get away with it, would you do it?
Yeah, that was gay, hence my answer.
I would kill you.
KIDDING!
I would want to kill someone political, so I guess I'd kill one of the founders of the Westboro Baptist Church, before they had a chance to create such a hateful and ignorant organization.
I think this would be my survey. It's got everything: drama, pathos, a thinly veiled and seemingly jokey inquiry into your last sexual conquest...what else is there to know about a person, really?
ANYWAY, mai ansirz. Let meh sho u them.
1. What did you have for breakfast five days ago (If you didn't eat breakfast five days ago please instead substitute what you ate five breakfasts ago for you answer; if you don't eat breakfast for any reason - be it ideological, religious, or fear-based - please explain further)?
I probably had a Special K bar and half a litre of water.
2. Are you nice?
No, unfortunately. I'm kind of a bad person; I lord my intelligence and wit over those less generously endowed, and use them as excuses to be isolated from others. It's all a ruse to protect my deep-seated insecurities.
3. How many jobs do you currently hold?
I'm a student. Anyone who thinks that's a "job" is being too kind.
4. Take off that stupid-ass hat. That's not a question, just do it.
You should know by now that hats aren't part of what I do.
5. Remember when we used to pass around surveys through email rather than MySpace? Wasn't that great? Isn't instant nostalgia wonderful? Do you have a nostalgic email-based memory you'd like to share? If not, go light up a cigarette and jump to the last few questions, 'cause this isn't working for you at all and I can tell, you're just phoning it in.
I actually never filled in those surveys. I DO, however, have a nostalgic email-based memory I'd like to share. Remember those "You might be a ___ " emails that used to get sent around? I loved those. The one about Indians (You might be an Indian if you have an enormous jug of canola oil under your kitchen counter) or the one about Houstonians (You might be from Houston if you come across a puddle whose bottom you can't see and attempt to drive through it) are two I can recall readily.
6. What's a pet peeve you've never told anyone?
I hate air guitar. So much. As a former Air Guitar Perp myself, I feel guilty about this.
7a. Are you worried about something?
Not particularly. I mean, I'm worried about the future, but it's only in an "intangible sense of doom" kind of way. I'm worried about not having seen all the Cameron Crowe movies. I'm worried about not being a good writer. But I assume all these things will come either to a tidy resolution or one with which I can at least reconcile myself.
7b. Should you get over it?
Uh, yes.
8. Defend your love for something ridiculous:
I love my electric blue jumpsuit and I don't see why you can't accept that. It's electric fucking blue. It has big 80's shoulders (but not shoulder pads, that's just the way it's cut). It has a high waist (but not so high as to make me look like half a torso on stilts) and a fetchingly deep v-neck. It's very flattering since it manages to be somewhat provocative without being obvious - by showing no cleavage at all, merely sternum. And I wore it with a belt that's motherfucking tizzight.
9. This is the part of the survey that you give us a loosely detailed of what you look like so we can get a decent image of you in our head that we can use while we masturbate in the shower tomorrow morning before work:
This question made me laugh out loud.
10. Is there a God?
In the Judeo-Christian sense, no. But I do believe in some kind of higher power, or greater force, that is by definition unquantifiable through any standards known to man. I believe that this power or force is largely beneficent, but that there's nothing you can do to ingratiate yourself to the power or force. That said, I do think karma exists in some capacity; I just don't know WHAT capacity. Or maybe it lets me sleep better at night to know that I'm trying the best that I can, and other people are trying the best that they can, and that the energy you put out into the world will one day return to you in kind.
Also taken into account: my mom once told me that it doesn't matter what God or gods your friends pray to - just think of them as many different facets of the same force - different names for the same person, different words for the same concept.
11. What's the best album no one's listening to?
I don't know. And if I did I wouldn't tell you. I don't like telling people about underground bands that I love because it makes me sound like a fake-snotty fuckin' hipster. I might be all of those things, but part of that condition is that I don't tell other people about it.
12a. What about your parents (or legal guardians) do you love?
I love that they...um...care so fucking much.
12b. What about them do you hate?
It drives me crazy that they can't divorce their caring from being realistic about anything.
13. Rene Descartes said, "Cogito ergo sum." Can you believe that French ponce, speaking two languages and NEITHER of them being English? Expand on your indignation; extra jingoism and unfounded "patriotic" claims are a plus (5 bonus points for including a drawing of the American flag):
God, I'm pretty sure most Americans don't speak English either.
14. When was the first time you kissed a member of the sex you're currently attracted to?
Long enough ago that I'm pretty sure I'm entering into a third virginity.
15. What do you wish were different in your life?
You know.
16. "Fight Club" or "The Matrix?"
Fight Club, what the fuck kind of question is that?
17. When were you last scared out of your mind?
I don't think I've ever been legitimately scared out of my mind; any time I start to get even a little nervous a little piece of my mind breaks off and talks calmly through the whole experience: "don't worry, you'll be fine, just one step in front of the other and soon you'll be done..." and so on. Sometimes it helps for me to say this out loud, which is why I talk when i ski. I'm terrified of skiing anything more difficult than an easy blue, so when I get forced to go on harder runs I just talk myself through it.
18a. What household chore do you hate the most?
Dishes.
18b. Which household chore do you like the most?
Laundry. It's calming to do the sorting and the procedures of it, as well as the final product of a pile of folded, clean, sorted clothes is fulfilling.
19. What's something commonplace that everyone else does that you don't do?
I don't go to bars to meet people. I don't go anywhere to meet people.
20. When was the first time you overcame embarrassment?
Um, never?
21. Who was your last phone call to? Who was the last phone call you received from?
I last spoke to Kyle on the phone!
22. Define "freedom":
Getting to do whatever I want, as long as it doesn't hurt anyone else.
23. Where's your favorite place to eat that everyone should know about?
I tend to keep my favourite places to eat under wraps, because I don't like eating in busy restaurants. The service tends to suck when a place gets "discovered".
24. What do you regret?
Not much; I tend to try to live my life in a way that - if I looked back on it at some future date - I wouldn't be able to say that I would have chosen another route.
25. What makes you feel charitable? Why?
When an ambulance comes up behind you and all the traffic splits so it can go by. I dunno, it just speaks to the human capacity for empathy and a sense of urgency on someone else's behalf (even if it is mandated by law) that is comforting.
26. Who was the best Beatle?
Ringo. I feel sorry for him.
27a. Which "Saved By the Bell" cast member could you outduel in a match of wits?
*sigh* Any of them?
27b. Which one would you take on a date to The Max?
It's The Maxx, Kyle. XX.
27c. Which one could you take in a fight (NOTE: Don't say "Slater," because he was the best wrestler at Bayside and he'd whup your punk fuckin' ass, it's a fact, just admit it)?
Zach. He seems like he'd be too much in his own head to fight effectively, and the girls all had those terrifying acrylic nails.
28. Where is Vice President Dick Cheney? Seriously, where is he? He shot that one guy, i guess, and now...now it's like...God, you know...fuckin'...I don't even know. I don't even know, you know? It's crazy. It's totally crazy. God. Seriously though, where is he?
In the Death Star? I believe in the idea that it was blown up in the Star Wars movie as some great conspiracy to make us believe that it didn't exist anymore.
29. How do you make the magic fortune in a fortune cookie come true? Explain your procedure.
Blow on the paper on which your fortune is written, then tear it in half. There's also some stuff about chicken blood in there, but I won't get into it.
30a. What don't you do enough of?
Think.
30b. What do you do too much of?
Talk.
31. Is honesty the best policy?
Not always.
32. Reality TV: for or against?
I'm against anything even loosely based in reality.
33. No one cares if you drink or smoke. The real question is: Mescaline or Acid?
Mescaline. Acid. I thought they were the same thing. L7!!!!!!!!!!
34. What's your definition of "First Base?" "Second?" "Third?" "Home?"
1st: Kissing. Makeouts?
2nd: Heavy petting, bottoms on.
3rd: Bottoms off.
Home: Butt sex. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.
35. What are you getting out of life: what you want, what you earned, or what you deserve?
That's a good question. Right now it's what I want. Hopefully it always will be that way.
36. Chuck Klosterman asked this once in an essay in ESPN: The Magazine, and I paraphrase: If the predominant number of athletes in the National Football League are using performance-enhancing drugs, can it still be considered cheating?
The saving grace of this question is that Chuck Klosterman is involved somehow. The answer is: yes, it can still be considered cheating because it's not the baseline requirement. Au naturale is still the baseline, and I understand that there are some players who manage to keep up without using drugs. As soon as it becomes impossible for a drug-free player to participate, THEN it will not be considered cheating. Right?
37. What's on your desktop of your computer?
38. What do you collect?
Pain.
39. Best videogame of all time, hands down:
Chaos Island. Look it up.
40a. What was the best thing that happened in elementary school?
Oh my god, nothing good happened to me in elementary school. Seriously, it was 7 straight years of bad haircuts, rejection, second-hand clothing (suspenders were an item on heavy rotation - I'm not even kidding) and embarrassing gestures knocking shit off my desk. I tried to pretend like I was over it, but I couldn't even embrace my freakdom wholeheartedly.
40b. In Middle school / junior high?
See above, though the clothing in these years were just completely nerdy: my jeans were tapered, I wore loafers.
40c. In high school?
See above. The clothing in these years were bordering on "weird" but I hadn't completely raised the freak flag yet.
40d. In College?
See above. The clothing is still bad but at least I've stopped caring.
40e. Oh, come on...seriously, you went to grad school? God...okay, fine. The best thing that happened in grad school. No wait, let me guess...you made a million dollars when you got out, right? Was that your answer, you asskisser? You're terrible.
*crying*
41a. Ever fired a gun?
No.
41b. At someone?
UM, NO?
42. Can you do any superhuman tricks? Like, are you double-jointed and other freakish things of that nature?
No. I'm glad enough to be characterized as just average-human.
43. Describe the perfect birthday:
PRESENTS. PRESENTS. PRESENTS. PRESENTS. I don't even care what the presents are. I just love receiving them. In previous years I would have cited a drunken night on the town, but honestly I would really like to have all my friends in one room, watching movies, conversing, and in general being clever and loving life.
44. Do you want to go to the Moon?
No.
45. There's no way out! It's hopeless! An impossible task is at hand! How are we possibly going to escape?! Save us:
*nervous meltdown*
46. Where do we as humans go from here?
Complete annihilation. Humans have evolved as much as they're going to by this point (as is evidenced by the existence of such things as Cirque du Soleil and reality TV), so eventually the world will evolve without us and we will die out. I'm totally fine with this.
47. Aren't you excited that this survey's almost over? Display your feelings in iambic pentameter (if you can't, perhaps you can go in a corner and play with a tiny rubber ball or your PSP, you know, something else that instantly shows the world you have a lower IQ than absolutely everyone you see):
I can't believe I'm almost done.
This survey certainly was fun.
I'm glad you sent it to me, babe.
Here's one good reason you're my fave.
48. Where were you when the Twin Towers fell?
Skipping chapel, my sophomore year of high school.
49. I'm funnier than you. How are you coping with that?
I think I'll manage.
50a. What will you do today that will make it better than yesterday?
Probably smoke a lot of weed and get drizzunk biatch!
50b. It was gay to end on that question, and I'm sorry. I thought it would wrap things up nicely. If you liked it, cool, 'cause that's the end. But if you hated it, here's one last question: If you could kill someone and you knew one hundred percent beyond a shadow of a doubt that you could get away with it, would you do it?
Yeah, that was gay, hence my answer.
I would kill you.
KIDDING!
I would want to kill someone political, so I guess I'd kill one of the founders of the Westboro Baptist Church, before they had a chance to create such a hateful and ignorant organization.
Monday, September 29, 2008
Updation Station
I saw Eagle Eye tonight. It was okay. I didn't like the ending being all faux-profound, though, since it clearly was just the director being all, "Fuck, this piece of shit is STILL 2 hours and 30 minutes long?! Fine, just chop off the end and let's be done with it."
Then I came home and watched Penelope (the Christina Ricci one that came out a while ago) on IControl or whatever it is where you rent a movie from Channel 1. Anyway, I liked it a lot. It was kind of obvious and James MacAvoy's facial hair was pretty unfortunate, but the costumes and set design were so vivid, and it was cute. Really nice, thoughtless entertainment for when you want to believe that the world has happy endings after all.
Yikes! I just got lost in IMDb.com for an hour. Has that ever happened to you? Have you ever been totally consumed by the need to know what happened behind the scenes (and for whom those scenes were written) in all the movies you've ever seen?
Then I came home and watched Penelope (the Christina Ricci one that came out a while ago) on IControl or whatever it is where you rent a movie from Channel 1. Anyway, I liked it a lot. It was kind of obvious and James MacAvoy's facial hair was pretty unfortunate, but the costumes and set design were so vivid, and it was cute. Really nice, thoughtless entertainment for when you want to believe that the world has happy endings after all.
Yikes! I just got lost in IMDb.com for an hour. Has that ever happened to you? Have you ever been totally consumed by the need to know what happened behind the scenes (and for whom those scenes were written) in all the movies you've ever seen?
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Does "an overwhelming feeling of 'meh'" qualify as depression?
It's easy enough for me to have gotten my life on track: parents more or less compliant, boyfriend more or less willing, I'm making progress in school...what else is there? Why haven't I gotten out of bed or eaten anything in two days?
Saturday, September 27, 2008
New Motto: "Eat More, Drink Less...Don't Panic!"
Power just came back on! So of course the first thing I do is plug in the ol' compy. I haven't been up to much:
On Thursday I was going to host a Season 5 of The Office Premiere party, but I still didn't have power so we did it at Matt K's instead. We all dressed up as characters from the show (I, of course, was Kelly - I would NEVER have missed the opportunity) and ate pizza. Then we played some Guitar Hero, and then I went home and was in bed by 11. It was pretty awesome.
Then yesterday David O had his birthday at The Mink, which is a cool little bar downtown that I introduced him to. He requested that we dress up (apparently his dress code missives to other people included the words "red carpet"), so I, of course, wore an electric blue jumpsuit. It was awesome and everyone LOVED IT. After searching my entire adult life for a "style" that I could make my own, I have apparently landed on "M.I.A."
And that was about it. Other than some pretty disappointing behavior from the guys last night, I had a good time and met some really nice people. I would hope to do it again soon, but I, like, don't. There's so much more on this topic that I want to say but can't because I have to think for a while about who actually reads this before I hit publish.
On Thursday I was going to host a Season 5 of The Office Premiere party, but I still didn't have power so we did it at Matt K's instead. We all dressed up as characters from the show (I, of course, was Kelly - I would NEVER have missed the opportunity) and ate pizza. Then we played some Guitar Hero, and then I went home and was in bed by 11. It was pretty awesome.
Then yesterday David O had his birthday at The Mink, which is a cool little bar downtown that I introduced him to. He requested that we dress up (apparently his dress code missives to other people included the words "red carpet"), so I, of course, wore an electric blue jumpsuit. It was awesome and everyone LOVED IT. After searching my entire adult life for a "style" that I could make my own, I have apparently landed on "M.I.A."
And that was about it. Other than some pretty disappointing behavior from the guys last night, I had a good time and met some really nice people. I would hope to do it again soon, but I, like, don't. There's so much more on this topic that I want to say but can't because I have to think for a while about who actually reads this before I hit publish.
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Inside The Priya's Studio
At the conclusion of every Inside the Actor's Studio episode, James Lipton (the host) asks his guest a series of 10 questions. I was just listening to a Ricky Gervais podcast episode and decided to answer them myself, because I'm due for a post and have nothing to say. I finished all the House episodes and ran out of Californication episodes (I got up to Season 2, Episode 2, so if anyone out there knows where I can find any others, let me know!), which means that tonight I will be sleeping instead of thinking.
Anyway, here are the questions. And the answers.
1. What is your favorite word?
I have two: "ostensibly," because it's awesome to use when you're drunk, and "evidently," which I like to use in a sarcastic way.
2. What is your least favorite word?
"Moist," especially out loud. *shudder*
3. What turns you on?
A good read and solitude. And that is not a cutesy way of saying "Literotica and privacy".
4. What turns you off?
Pretty much everything.
5. What sound do you love?
Jangly new wave guitars.
6. What sound do you hate?
Voices. My own, other people's; I'm not picky. The world would be a better place if everyone would shut the fuck up.
7. What is your favorite curse word?
Fuck, but I have to stop saying it as often as I do. It's just wrong. And also it doesn't have as much of an impact when I do use it.
8. What profession other than yours would you like to attempt?
Um, any profession would be a profession other than the one I already have. My current profession is - actually, doesn't "profession" imply that I get paid for whatever it is I do? I don't get paid. So...but I get the point of the question, so I'll play ball.
I would like to be someone who writes for National Geographic. They get to travel all over the world and get access to really interesting things.
9. What profession would you not like to do?
I would not like to be someone who writes for National Geographic. I bet they have to poop in buckets a lot, 'cause it's not like they stay at the Ritz-Carlton when they're on assignment in the Congo. Also, I read this article in NatGeo where the author got taken hostage by some rebel force leader and made to poop in a bucket. Pooping in buckets is not part of what I do. Pooping at all isn't part of what I do.
10. If heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the pearly gates?
I thought my categorical rejection of the Judeo-Christian religions would preclude me from any Pearly Gates action, but if God Himself did deign to speak to me, I would like him to say, "You Were Right."
Anyway, here are the questions. And the answers.
1. What is your favorite word?
I have two: "ostensibly," because it's awesome to use when you're drunk, and "evidently," which I like to use in a sarcastic way.
2. What is your least favorite word?
"Moist," especially out loud. *shudder*
3. What turns you on?
A good read and solitude. And that is not a cutesy way of saying "Literotica and privacy".
4. What turns you off?
Pretty much everything.
5. What sound do you love?
Jangly new wave guitars.
6. What sound do you hate?
Voices. My own, other people's; I'm not picky. The world would be a better place if everyone would shut the fuck up.
7. What is your favorite curse word?
Fuck, but I have to stop saying it as often as I do. It's just wrong. And also it doesn't have as much of an impact when I do use it.
8. What profession other than yours would you like to attempt?
Um, any profession would be a profession other than the one I already have. My current profession is - actually, doesn't "profession" imply that I get paid for whatever it is I do? I don't get paid. So...but I get the point of the question, so I'll play ball.
I would like to be someone who writes for National Geographic. They get to travel all over the world and get access to really interesting things.
9. What profession would you not like to do?
I would not like to be someone who writes for National Geographic. I bet they have to poop in buckets a lot, 'cause it's not like they stay at the Ritz-Carlton when they're on assignment in the Congo. Also, I read this article in NatGeo where the author got taken hostage by some rebel force leader and made to poop in a bucket. Pooping in buckets is not part of what I do. Pooping at all isn't part of what I do.
10. If heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the pearly gates?
I thought my categorical rejection of the Judeo-Christian religions would preclude me from any Pearly Gates action, but if God Himself did deign to speak to me, I would like him to say, "You Were Right."
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
White Boys
I just started watching Californication. That show with David Duchovny? On Showtime? YOU KNOW. At first I hated how sad it made me. I still hate that, but I love who the character has turned out to be. And I like it for one of the same reasons I like Entourage, and those 2 episodes of Sex and the City: it takes place in LA and I love watching the scenery pan by and recognizing it.
David Duchovny was the second celebrity crush I ever had (the first one being Mark-Paul Gosselaar back when he was a blonde), from way back in 5th grade, when I was way into the X-Files, which was so far back that I didn't even realize that he was a celebrity crush. Hey, I was 11. I didn't know there were such things as "Top 5 Fuckable Celebs" lists.
I think he kind of set the template for the men I love now. Which is funny, because just today, Kyle told me that he thinks David has "a stupid face." Don't talk too much smack about him, dear - he's the reason I'm into you, tall, dark, charming like you are, obsessively anguished like you can be. If it hadn't been for David, I might still be into blondes...god knows what that Priya would have been like.
David Duchovny was the second celebrity crush I ever had (the first one being Mark-Paul Gosselaar back when he was a blonde), from way back in 5th grade, when I was way into the X-Files, which was so far back that I didn't even realize that he was a celebrity crush. Hey, I was 11. I didn't know there were such things as "Top 5 Fuckable Celebs" lists.
I think he kind of set the template for the men I love now. Which is funny, because just today, Kyle told me that he thinks David has "a stupid face." Don't talk too much smack about him, dear - he's the reason I'm into you, tall, dark, charming like you are, obsessively anguished like you can be. If it hadn't been for David, I might still be into blondes...god knows what that Priya would have been like.
Monday, September 22, 2008
George Michael says, "Oh, Fuck It" to Life
I just read that George Michael was arrested on the 19th for possession of crack cocaine in a public restroom. He released a statement in which he said, "I want to apologise to my fans for screwing up again, and to promise them I'll sort myself out. And to say sorry to everybody else, just for boring them."
Many things to think about here:
1. I would think after all he's been through, George Michael would be pretty much done with public restrooms, even if he needed to use one in the manner for which it was intended rather than a satellite opium dens.
2. Fuck yeah, you screwed up again.
3. Yeah, you know, this is kind of boring. Props to upgrading (downgrading?) to crack though. At least that much has changed.
4. YOU'RE 45! WHAT ELSE IS THERE IN YOUR LIFE OTHER THAN SORTING YOURSELF OUT?! I mean, I imagine that after 40 life is more or less one horror-filled instance of finding white hairs (not just on your head) after another, sprinkled liberally with midlife crisis-fueled bad decisions. And by bad decisions I do not mean SWITCHING TO CRACK. By bad decisions I mean dating a 25 year old, or buying a cherried-out Mustang convertible.
Many things to think about here:
1. I would think after all he's been through, George Michael would be pretty much done with public restrooms, even if he needed to use one in the manner for which it was intended rather than a satellite opium dens.
2. Fuck yeah, you screwed up again.
3. Yeah, you know, this is kind of boring. Props to upgrading (downgrading?) to crack though. At least that much has changed.
4. YOU'RE 45! WHAT ELSE IS THERE IN YOUR LIFE OTHER THAN SORTING YOURSELF OUT?! I mean, I imagine that after 40 life is more or less one horror-filled instance of finding white hairs (not just on your head) after another, sprinkled liberally with midlife crisis-fueled bad decisions. And by bad decisions I do not mean SWITCHING TO CRACK. By bad decisions I mean dating a 25 year old, or buying a cherried-out Mustang convertible.
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Fill in the Gaps
You know, I only just discovered how AIDS crossed over from monkeys to humans! I always knew that a monkey had it, and then a human got it from that monkey, but...I think this will be the only time I will be relieved to find that an animal disease got passed to a human through biting. See, I previously thought that the first human case of AIDS was contracted when the human fucked that sick monkey.
Over the Edge
So I posted just a little taste of the RDJ Awesome in that last entry and now I can't stop. Here's some more, for your viewing pleasure.
In this first one, my two boyfriends (RDJ and John Cusack*) come together!
*I've forgiven John for hitting on Ricki Lake, since that was almost a year ago and I haven't heard anything about them since then. Oh my god, I just had a thought: they better not be keeping their relationship low key or any funny business like that. I SWEAR TO GOD IF THEY GET MARRIED I WILL FLIP OUT. I think I need to establish that I don't have anything against John getting married in general; I have a problem with him marrying HER. Did I ever tell you guys that I saw her at a yogurt-shop and she was making a big scene out of her friend still being on Weight Watchers but she wasn't? Her friend wanted the sugar-free frozen yogurt, and Ricki was like, "Oh, you're still counting points?" so the whole room could hear. "I am so over that." Celebrity women are always manipulating the conversation so they can start talking about one of three things: 1. they never diet, and yet have always been a size 2, just like they were when they were 17! Ricki obviously couldn't say that, so it was obviously a segue into 2. they just started a very obscure diet, or 3. their new project (which is always either a book [A BOOK!!!!! As though any of them were halfway literate], a movie about their lives, or something directed by Charlie Kaufman). ANYWAY...
What a classy broad. At the end when they miss the high five, that interviewer probably feels like an ass, but RDJ makes him look okay. MAN. I want that quality. Usually when someone embarrasses themselves in front of me, I'm like, "oh, that's unfortunate, what you did just there. You must feel really silly!" And then I feel bad. And it shows all over my face. And then I say, "WELL, THIS IS AWKWARD!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA!"
You know, I was on the fence about this before, because of his past and all, and the fact that he has a wife and a kid and stuff, but I just decided. I would ROCK RDJ's WORLD.
I just bitched at Kyle for not responding to me teasing him, and he told me that he has to brush off half the things I say, because if he responded to every shitty thing I ever said to him, "we would never have conversations, it would just be stimulus, response, stimulus, response, like poking a fucking slug on the ground, with a STICK." And then I laughed my head off.
In this first one, my two boyfriends (RDJ and John Cusack*) come together!
*I've forgiven John for hitting on Ricki Lake, since that was almost a year ago and I haven't heard anything about them since then. Oh my god, I just had a thought: they better not be keeping their relationship low key or any funny business like that. I SWEAR TO GOD IF THEY GET MARRIED I WILL FLIP OUT. I think I need to establish that I don't have anything against John getting married in general; I have a problem with him marrying HER. Did I ever tell you guys that I saw her at a yogurt-shop and she was making a big scene out of her friend still being on Weight Watchers but she wasn't? Her friend wanted the sugar-free frozen yogurt, and Ricki was like, "Oh, you're still counting points?" so the whole room could hear. "I am so over that." Celebrity women are always manipulating the conversation so they can start talking about one of three things: 1. they never diet, and yet have always been a size 2, just like they were when they were 17! Ricki obviously couldn't say that, so it was obviously a segue into 2. they just started a very obscure diet, or 3. their new project (which is always either a book [A BOOK!!!!! As though any of them were halfway literate], a movie about their lives, or something directed by Charlie Kaufman). ANYWAY...
What a classy broad. At the end when they miss the high five, that interviewer probably feels like an ass, but RDJ makes him look okay. MAN. I want that quality. Usually when someone embarrasses themselves in front of me, I'm like, "oh, that's unfortunate, what you did just there. You must feel really silly!" And then I feel bad. And it shows all over my face. And then I say, "WELL, THIS IS AWKWARD!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA!"
You know, I was on the fence about this before, because of his past and all, and the fact that he has a wife and a kid and stuff, but I just decided. I would ROCK RDJ's WORLD.
I just bitched at Kyle for not responding to me teasing him, and he told me that he has to brush off half the things I say, because if he responded to every shitty thing I ever said to him, "we would never have conversations, it would just be stimulus, response, stimulus, response, like poking a fucking slug on the ground, with a STICK." And then I laughed my head off.
Down-On-Your-Luck Actors Rejoice
God, this is the year of the Downey, isn't it? He's been confirmed to play Sherlock in some upcoming Sherlock and Holmes thing (which I think originally had Seth Rogen and Will Farrell as Sherlock and Watson for some reason), but they're still looking for a Watson. AND I JUST HEARD THAT JUDE LAW WANTS TO PLAY HIM.
HA! Jude Law, second fiddle to Robert Downey Jr. Five years ago this never would have happened. I'm glad to be alive in a time when it was possible. Who knows, if this Palin woman ever comes to power, everything could change.
Here's a hilarious video where he says one of my favourite lines of his from Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang: "uh, I got priors, so, uh - I'm gonna roll, okay". Wait for it.
PS. I realize the title actually has nothing to do with this entry, but I wrote it on kind of a lark and realized that after living only a year in LA, I already know so many "out of work actors" that I felt bad telling them to rejoice and then taking it back. They all need to rejoice whenever they get a chance; they're always losing work to people who have whiter teeth. Hug the unemployed thespian in your lives today, people! And now back to your regularly scheduled misanthropy.
HA! Jude Law, second fiddle to Robert Downey Jr. Five years ago this never would have happened. I'm glad to be alive in a time when it was possible. Who knows, if this Palin woman ever comes to power, everything could change.
Here's a hilarious video where he says one of my favourite lines of his from Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang: "uh, I got priors, so, uh - I'm gonna roll, okay". Wait for it.
PS. I realize the title actually has nothing to do with this entry, but I wrote it on kind of a lark and realized that after living only a year in LA, I already know so many "out of work actors" that I felt bad telling them to rejoice and then taking it back. They all need to rejoice whenever they get a chance; they're always losing work to people who have whiter teeth. Hug the unemployed thespian in your lives today, people! And now back to your regularly scheduled misanthropy.
Saturday, September 20, 2008
Let This Video Get to Second Base
You'll be glad you did.
This is pretty much the best music video I've seen all year, for so many reasons. Setting the music aspect aside for now (though, um, it's fucking GENIUS), let's talk about the visual. Look at that hair! Look at those clothes! Now I know what 35 year olds feel like when they talk about the '80s. Oh my god. I better not start seeing 15 year olds in "modern flannel" wearing faux-dreadlocks. I will shit.
Back to the music: it's fucking GENIUS. This guy and his band play rock music on little kid instruments. What else is there?
This is pretty much the best music video I've seen all year, for so many reasons. Setting the music aspect aside for now (though, um, it's fucking GENIUS), let's talk about the visual. Look at that hair! Look at those clothes! Now I know what 35 year olds feel like when they talk about the '80s. Oh my god. I better not start seeing 15 year olds in "modern flannel" wearing faux-dreadlocks. I will shit.
Back to the music: it's fucking GENIUS. This guy and his band play rock music on little kid instruments. What else is there?
Friday, September 19, 2008
Journalism Majors, Read No Farther
I fucking hate modern journalism sometimes. It's full of redundancies and dumbed-down deliveries of already dumb concepts. And we're supposed to think that this is what we need to be reading. This is what you read if you consider yourself a thinking man or woman. Current events!
Current events like Oprah's crowning the "next Harper Lee" on her show this week.
"I will say that, yes I said it," Winfrey said.
Oh my god. Behold the sound-byte of the 21st Century! You will listen, but you will not hear. Or something. I'm going to kill myself.
And THIS article got the best placement possible on the MSN.com homepage!
Criticizing the Critics
Tired of professional film critics? Isn't every opinion valid? Wellll ...
By Kathleen Murphy
First, the title sucks. It means nothing. Let's continue:
You know who we're hatin' on here. Film critics. That oh-so-special species mostly sighted at press screenings, film festivals, and panels on "The Death of Cinemah."
But wait...'cinemah' isn't a word! OH, I GET IT. The author here misspelled 'cinema' because 'cinemah' is what the word sounds like when you take it too seriously!
From coast to coast, certain critic types stand out: There's Jabba the Hutt, a barely ambulatory IMDb who's watched every movie ever made while nesting in his mom's basement. And Ichabod Crane, that juiceless, gray beanpole poised to club a harmless piece of escapism to death with some smarter-than-thou diatribe.
I like that the author wrote "some smarter-than-thou diatribe," which is supposed to make his 6-grade reading level audience feel like they're special because they know what a diatribe is, and what it means to be 'smarter-than-thou'.
And who can forget monkish little Gollum, painfully conflicted about whether he loves or hates the flickers. Am I, he stews, slumming in a low-rent medium when I could be swanning about with genuine intelligentsia, reviewing the great American novel or dissecting Broadway's latest extravaganza?
OOH. 'intelligentsia'! I KNOW WHAT THAT IS!
These guys don't review movies for real people like you and me. They do it for their own selves -- and some highfalutin, probably long-dead niche audience with nothing better to do than think about "ahhhhht." Those of us who have lives, high-speed browsers and can't spare the time? We'd rather hit the blogosphere, where my opinion is as good as anyone else's -- and if you don't like it, you can IM uncensored, spontaneous brain-spew.
Didn't we already do the thing where you lamely make fun of something because people take it seriously? Also, "blogosphere"? *shudder* Also, "brain-spew"? WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!
Critics are Them. Bloggers R Us.
Here's a good idea! Let's misdirect your sense of being excluded from the recognized set to reinforce the idea that blogging is for uneducated, self-selecting 'wits' to publish their worthless opinions and call it Important.
Some could say that I'm being hypocritical here, but I'm not. This blog isn't Important. It's a newsletter. I have, like, 6 readers. Nobody is mistaking me for a pundit on anything, and I'm not asking them to.
Now here are 10 things that the fanboys hate about critics. Each point has been edited down somewhat because I can't bear to read ten long paragraphs.
1. Dream Job
You get to see movies for free. You get paid to watch movies. You work part-time and get a full-time salary. You enjoy a private screening of "The Dark Knight" weeks before my buds and I queue up. And then some of you badmouth Batman and the Joker! Show some love for the folks who keep you in lattes and DVDs.
Points for using the words "queue up", but I would have worded this whole thing differently (which is to say, I would have worded it better). For one, the header is...prohibitively succinct. And the whole point is kind of misdirected, because movie fans don't pay critics' salaries. Whoever owns the newspapers and magazines does. This smacks of those Beverly Hills girls who get annoyed when they don't get five-star service. "Don't you know who I am? I could buy and sell you!" First off, you really need to think twice about telling anybody that you can buy or sell them.
2. Geezer Syndrome
A lot of you have been writing about movies since the beginning of time, blathering on about blasts from the past and filmmakers no twentysomething ever heard -- or wants to hear -- of.
Fair point.
Oughtta be an age limit that kicks in when a reviewer hits 30 (see "Logan's Run"). When dotard brains can't stand up to heavy-duty media bombardment, geezer critics hunker down in prehistoric, analog notions about what makes a megahit.
Ohmygod. You want movie critics to be under 30!? We'd just get twenty-seven reviews of "Zack and Miri Make a Porno", like anything needs to be said about that. Don't get me wrong, I'm going to be forking over my $8.50 (student rates have kind of risen lately!) just like everyone else, but as a major fan of both Seth Rogen AND Elizabeth Banks, even I realize that a Kevin Smith movie is pretty much whatever the title says it is.
Haven't you ever heard of the fierce urgency of NOW?
Okay, okay. I get it. You're 25. You're desperate for a job in the movie critiquing business but nobody will listen to you because you suck (as is evidenced by this "essay" thing). Your mom and dad want you to pay rent now that you've graduated from your 6 year Film School program. You're frustrated. You're desperate.
Geezers mostly mumble to themselves these digital days, cuz print's fast going the way of T. rex. You need to know we're the demographic to die for -- fanboys and himbos romping through our teens and early 20s! And if you can't tell us what we need to know in a blurb or a capsule or an up-or-down thumb, our attention wanders at warp speed.
PLEASE DON'T WRITE 'cuz' AS AN ABBREVIATION OF 'because' ANYMORE! AGHHH. And shortening Tyrannosaurus Rex to 'T. rex' doesn't make you sound hip. And 'rex' should be capitalized. Also, "fanboys" and "himbos". What's a "himbo"?
3. No Respect for Comic-Book and Superhero Movies
Obsessed with movies older than dirt, weird flicks from Burkina Faso and oddball releases that grossed $2.98, too many reviewers have the gall to look down their noses at the super-black, ultra-kinetic, freak-filled universe of the graphic novel.
And a lot of these highbrows are soooo in the dark when it comes to superheroes -- not to mention pirates of the Caribbean. Hunks and mutants and Transformers rock, especially when they throw bloody fits that crush whole cities and populations.
Get with the program, guys. Superhero flicks deliver fanboy fantasies, where freaks and geeks get off on breaking things and having a smash-palace good time -- while saving the world, of course. When real life keeps everything tight and tame, hooking up with Hellboy or the Hulk gives you the chance to fly your freak flag -- without having to pay for breakage.
But uptight dweebs and geezers can't feel the juice. A couple of you even nit-picked "The Dark Knight," droning on about "incoherent action sequences" and "pretentious" storytelling. What rock do you people live under?
Everybody knows "The Dark Knight" is the greatest movie ever made. Contrarian critics totally missed the way this flick broke brand new ground, showing all that deep and scary stuff about Batman and the Joker being two sides of the same coin. And all the supersized explosions and car chases? Gravy, man, just gravy.
Betcha "Watchmen" will go right over geezer heads.
You reviewers whine that it's hard to take superheroes seriously, carping that Super-, Spider- and Iron-men aren't pumped up with complexity of character and moral choice, just super-strength and -powers. Chill out, guys: Wolverine's got angst, Hulk's a raging id, Hellboy's wrestling with commitment issues and what about Iron Man's long, hard road to redemption?
Not everybody has to go up Brokeback Mountain or into some country that's not for old men to get all sad and soulful. I mean, Batman's parents got murdered, his girl's blown to smithereens, and now the Joker's all up in his face with, "You complete me." How heavy is that?
If you can't spot at least 50 things wrong with this one (which I left at full length to give you a taste of what I've been protecting you from), you're not paying attention. I might have rendered you brain-dead already by asking you to read this far. For those of you about to drool, I salute you.
4. Lighten Up
You gotta realize you aren't writing about Shakespeare or Picasso here -- just consumer reports on what lots and lots of regular folk use to kill time over the weekend. Some of you write so dead-serious it's like you think someone's grading you, or civilization as we know it hangs on your every word.
Write blog-breezy, throw in some jokes, sprinkle lots of puns and pop culture references around. What we want are snark and zingers and yuks in film reviews, not head-scratching insights about what's the most recent nail in the coffin of Cinemah.
And can't reviewers get a little more creative about those cute little symbols you use to rank movies -- five spliffs for super stoner movies? Two Manolo Blahniks for a so-so chick flick? That thumb thing is so yesterday.
5. Snobbery
Don't get all up in our faces with wordy, ivory-tower gibberish that's just so much noise to real moviegoers. Who wants to pore over that elitist jabber when slang-and-snark pleb talk spreads over the Internet like instant kudzu?
Why waste my time showing off how much you know about the film's director or what genre it's in and how it measures up to the last 40-something examples of that genre or how the movie fits into the grand scheme of things cinematic?
What we want is a consumer reporter, dig? Someone who can give us the buzz, the pitch, the scoop, the high sign that will get us up off the couch and into the multiplex.
Mostly we don't pay much attention to you anyway -- we already pretty much know what's hot and what's not, from ad raves and RottenTomatoes.com blurbs and "Entertainment Tonight" reports. Jacked directly into the action, we don't need snobby critics for middlemen.
Apologizing for his preference for Cinemah over popcorn movies, highbrow New York Times critic A.O. Scott actually had the nads to claim that he's doing us a favor by sharing the "pleasure, wonder and surprise we associate with art."
Don't bother beaming us up, Scotty. What we crave is consensus, write-ups that mirror the majority, the movie tastes of the teens and proles who rule the box office.
Current events like Oprah's crowning the "next Harper Lee" on her show this week.
"I will say that, yes I said it," Winfrey said.
Oh my god. Behold the sound-byte of the 21st Century! You will listen, but you will not hear. Or something. I'm going to kill myself.
And THIS article got the best placement possible on the MSN.com homepage!
Criticizing the Critics
Tired of professional film critics? Isn't every opinion valid? Wellll ...
By Kathleen Murphy
First, the title sucks. It means nothing. Let's continue:
You know who we're hatin' on here. Film critics. That oh-so-special species mostly sighted at press screenings, film festivals, and panels on "The Death of Cinemah."
But wait...'cinemah' isn't a word! OH, I GET IT. The author here misspelled 'cinema' because 'cinemah' is what the word sounds like when you take it too seriously!
From coast to coast, certain critic types stand out: There's Jabba the Hutt, a barely ambulatory IMDb who's watched every movie ever made while nesting in his mom's basement. And Ichabod Crane, that juiceless, gray beanpole poised to club a harmless piece of escapism to death with some smarter-than-thou diatribe.
I like that the author wrote "some smarter-than-thou diatribe," which is supposed to make his 6-grade reading level audience feel like they're special because they know what a diatribe is, and what it means to be 'smarter-than-thou'.
And who can forget monkish little Gollum, painfully conflicted about whether he loves or hates the flickers. Am I, he stews, slumming in a low-rent medium when I could be swanning about with genuine intelligentsia, reviewing the great American novel or dissecting Broadway's latest extravaganza?
OOH. 'intelligentsia'! I KNOW WHAT THAT IS!
These guys don't review movies for real people like you and me. They do it for their own selves -- and some highfalutin, probably long-dead niche audience with nothing better to do than think about "ahhhhht." Those of us who have lives, high-speed browsers and can't spare the time? We'd rather hit the blogosphere, where my opinion is as good as anyone else's -- and if you don't like it, you can IM uncensored, spontaneous brain-spew.
Didn't we already do the thing where you lamely make fun of something because people take it seriously? Also, "blogosphere"? *shudder* Also, "brain-spew"? WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!
Critics are Them. Bloggers R Us.
Here's a good idea! Let's misdirect your sense of being excluded from the recognized set to reinforce the idea that blogging is for uneducated, self-selecting 'wits' to publish their worthless opinions and call it Important.
Some could say that I'm being hypocritical here, but I'm not. This blog isn't Important. It's a newsletter. I have, like, 6 readers. Nobody is mistaking me for a pundit on anything, and I'm not asking them to.
Now here are 10 things that the fanboys hate about critics. Each point has been edited down somewhat because I can't bear to read ten long paragraphs.
1. Dream Job
You get to see movies for free. You get paid to watch movies. You work part-time and get a full-time salary. You enjoy a private screening of "The Dark Knight" weeks before my buds and I queue up. And then some of you badmouth Batman and the Joker! Show some love for the folks who keep you in lattes and DVDs.
Points for using the words "queue up", but I would have worded this whole thing differently (which is to say, I would have worded it better). For one, the header is...prohibitively succinct. And the whole point is kind of misdirected, because movie fans don't pay critics' salaries. Whoever owns the newspapers and magazines does. This smacks of those Beverly Hills girls who get annoyed when they don't get five-star service. "Don't you know who I am? I could buy and sell you!" First off, you really need to think twice about telling anybody that you can buy or sell them.
2. Geezer Syndrome
A lot of you have been writing about movies since the beginning of time, blathering on about blasts from the past and filmmakers no twentysomething ever heard -- or wants to hear -- of.
Fair point.
Oughtta be an age limit that kicks in when a reviewer hits 30 (see "Logan's Run"). When dotard brains can't stand up to heavy-duty media bombardment, geezer critics hunker down in prehistoric, analog notions about what makes a megahit.
Ohmygod. You want movie critics to be under 30!? We'd just get twenty-seven reviews of "Zack and Miri Make a Porno", like anything needs to be said about that. Don't get me wrong, I'm going to be forking over my $8.50 (student rates have kind of risen lately!) just like everyone else, but as a major fan of both Seth Rogen AND Elizabeth Banks, even I realize that a Kevin Smith movie is pretty much whatever the title says it is.
Haven't you ever heard of the fierce urgency of NOW?
Okay, okay. I get it. You're 25. You're desperate for a job in the movie critiquing business but nobody will listen to you because you suck (as is evidenced by this "essay" thing). Your mom and dad want you to pay rent now that you've graduated from your 6 year Film School program. You're frustrated. You're desperate.
Geezers mostly mumble to themselves these digital days, cuz print's fast going the way of T. rex. You need to know we're the demographic to die for -- fanboys and himbos romping through our teens and early 20s! And if you can't tell us what we need to know in a blurb or a capsule or an up-or-down thumb, our attention wanders at warp speed.
PLEASE DON'T WRITE 'cuz' AS AN ABBREVIATION OF 'because' ANYMORE! AGHHH. And shortening Tyrannosaurus Rex to 'T. rex' doesn't make you sound hip. And 'rex' should be capitalized. Also, "fanboys" and "himbos". What's a "himbo"?
3. No Respect for Comic-Book and Superhero Movies
Obsessed with movies older than dirt, weird flicks from Burkina Faso and oddball releases that grossed $2.98, too many reviewers have the gall to look down their noses at the super-black, ultra-kinetic, freak-filled universe of the graphic novel.
And a lot of these highbrows are soooo in the dark when it comes to superheroes -- not to mention pirates of the Caribbean. Hunks and mutants and Transformers rock, especially when they throw bloody fits that crush whole cities and populations.
Get with the program, guys. Superhero flicks deliver fanboy fantasies, where freaks and geeks get off on breaking things and having a smash-palace good time -- while saving the world, of course. When real life keeps everything tight and tame, hooking up with Hellboy or the Hulk gives you the chance to fly your freak flag -- without having to pay for breakage.
But uptight dweebs and geezers can't feel the juice. A couple of you even nit-picked "The Dark Knight," droning on about "incoherent action sequences" and "pretentious" storytelling. What rock do you people live under?
Everybody knows "The Dark Knight" is the greatest movie ever made. Contrarian critics totally missed the way this flick broke brand new ground, showing all that deep and scary stuff about Batman and the Joker being two sides of the same coin. And all the supersized explosions and car chases? Gravy, man, just gravy.
Betcha "Watchmen" will go right over geezer heads.
You reviewers whine that it's hard to take superheroes seriously, carping that Super-, Spider- and Iron-men aren't pumped up with complexity of character and moral choice, just super-strength and -powers. Chill out, guys: Wolverine's got angst, Hulk's a raging id, Hellboy's wrestling with commitment issues and what about Iron Man's long, hard road to redemption?
Not everybody has to go up Brokeback Mountain or into some country that's not for old men to get all sad and soulful. I mean, Batman's parents got murdered, his girl's blown to smithereens, and now the Joker's all up in his face with, "You complete me." How heavy is that?
If you can't spot at least 50 things wrong with this one (which I left at full length to give you a taste of what I've been protecting you from), you're not paying attention. I might have rendered you brain-dead already by asking you to read this far. For those of you about to drool, I salute you.
4. Lighten Up
You gotta realize you aren't writing about Shakespeare or Picasso here -- just consumer reports on what lots and lots of regular folk use to kill time over the weekend. Some of you write so dead-serious it's like you think someone's grading you, or civilization as we know it hangs on your every word.
Write blog-breezy, throw in some jokes, sprinkle lots of puns and pop culture references around. What we want are snark and zingers and yuks in film reviews, not head-scratching insights about what's the most recent nail in the coffin of Cinemah.
And can't reviewers get a little more creative about those cute little symbols you use to rank movies -- five spliffs for super stoner movies? Two Manolo Blahniks for a so-so chick flick? That thumb thing is so yesterday.
5. Snobbery
Don't get all up in our faces with wordy, ivory-tower gibberish that's just so much noise to real moviegoers. Who wants to pore over that elitist jabber when slang-and-snark pleb talk spreads over the Internet like instant kudzu?
Why waste my time showing off how much you know about the film's director or what genre it's in and how it measures up to the last 40-something examples of that genre or how the movie fits into the grand scheme of things cinematic?
What we want is a consumer reporter, dig? Someone who can give us the buzz, the pitch, the scoop, the high sign that will get us up off the couch and into the multiplex.
Mostly we don't pay much attention to you anyway -- we already pretty much know what's hot and what's not, from ad raves and RottenTomatoes.com blurbs and "Entertainment Tonight" reports. Jacked directly into the action, we don't need snobby critics for middlemen.
Apologizing for his preference for Cinemah over popcorn movies, highbrow New York Times critic A.O. Scott actually had the nads to claim that he's doing us a favor by sharing the "pleasure, wonder and surprise we associate with art."
Don't bother beaming us up, Scotty. What we crave is consensus, write-ups that mirror the majority, the movie tastes of the teens and proles who rule the box office.
One Note Song
Marion just opened exposed me to Last.Fm. It's like Pandora, except...actually, I'm not sure how they're different. It doesn't matter. Actually, she and Jordan both got to me at around the same time, but credit must be given where it is due, and Marion did it first.
Back to Last.Fm: you create this profile on the site and it creates a little radio station for you to listen to similar artists. And it lists the last songs you listened to, so people that visit your profile can judge you. I always love a good judging, and I'm not afraid; I listed Journey as one of my favourite artists. At least Jordan will never accuse me of being a "hipster skank" or whatever she called Marion (those two go back as far as any of us care to remember, but I'll be damned if they don't vary wildly on tastes...in everything).
I also listed Liz Phair as a favourite artist, and the geniuses (you'll see if I'm being sarcastic or not in a second) at Last.Fm suggested that I would like these similar artists: Lisa Loeb, Aimee Mann, Poe, Natalie Merchant, Jewel, Tori Amos, and Sheryl Crow, among others. Oh my god, I just clicked to the next page and Ani DiFranco (AND the Indigo Girls) came up. Apparently an affinity for feminine independence and wry wit make me a single 30-something who has given up on men completely and gone lesbian (doing a disservice to real lesbians everywhere, I might add). That is not me.
Meanwhile, I'm making a mix for Kyle and decided to look for music that was like The Deftones, one of his favourite bands. The next five bands suggested were: Smashing Pumpkins, Tool, Nirvana, Incubus, and more Deftones. Which suggests that I'm dating a 15 year old with a burgeoning pot habit who just can't come to terms with his boners. And you can say what you will about my boyfriend, but he has no problems with his boners.
What does the music you listen to say about you?
Back to Last.Fm: you create this profile on the site and it creates a little radio station for you to listen to similar artists. And it lists the last songs you listened to, so people that visit your profile can judge you. I always love a good judging, and I'm not afraid; I listed Journey as one of my favourite artists. At least Jordan will never accuse me of being a "hipster skank" or whatever she called Marion (those two go back as far as any of us care to remember, but I'll be damned if they don't vary wildly on tastes...in everything).
I also listed Liz Phair as a favourite artist, and the geniuses (you'll see if I'm being sarcastic or not in a second) at Last.Fm suggested that I would like these similar artists: Lisa Loeb, Aimee Mann, Poe, Natalie Merchant, Jewel, Tori Amos, and Sheryl Crow, among others. Oh my god, I just clicked to the next page and Ani DiFranco (AND the Indigo Girls) came up. Apparently an affinity for feminine independence and wry wit make me a single 30-something who has given up on men completely and gone lesbian (doing a disservice to real lesbians everywhere, I might add). That is not me.
Meanwhile, I'm making a mix for Kyle and decided to look for music that was like The Deftones, one of his favourite bands. The next five bands suggested were: Smashing Pumpkins, Tool, Nirvana, Incubus, and more Deftones. Which suggests that I'm dating a 15 year old with a burgeoning pot habit who just can't come to terms with his boners. And you can say what you will about my boyfriend, but he has no problems with his boners.
What does the music you listen to say about you?
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Burn After Reading
I just got back from seeing Burn After Reading with Marion. Yes, that's right, apparently the city has resources enough to power the movie theatre but our homes and street lights aren't worth the trouble.
ANYWAY, the movie was incredible - it was just so Coen brothers. If you liked Fargo (if you don't have many qualms about what liking that movie says about the state of your soul), and miss that facet of the Coen brothers' fucking with your mind, you'll like this.
I'm looking forward to seeing Ghost Town (the new Ricky Gervais movie), too. Maybe I can get that in this weekend as well. But who will go with me?
ANYWAY, the movie was incredible - it was just so Coen brothers. If you liked Fargo (if you don't have many qualms about what liking that movie says about the state of your soul), and miss that facet of the Coen brothers' fucking with your mind, you'll like this.
I'm looking forward to seeing Ghost Town (the new Ricky Gervais movie), too. Maybe I can get that in this weekend as well. But who will go with me?
Google Chrome
I just downloaded Google Chrome and I likes it. I highly recommend it for people who for whatever reason resisted the new Firefox (I didn't WANT to resist Firefox, but I couldn't use it because it kept conflicting with MSN messenger and MSN messenger is MAI PRESHUSSSSS).
It is just in Beta stages now, but I think that it's already doing so well that the official release will be awesome for sure.
http://www.google.com/chrome/index.html?hl=en&brand=CHMA&utm_campaign=en&utm_source=en-ha-na-us-bk&utm_medium=ha&utm_term=google%20chrome
It is just in Beta stages now, but I think that it's already doing so well that the official release will be awesome for sure.
http://www.google.com/chrome/index.html?hl=en&brand=CHMA&utm_campaign=en&utm_source=en-ha-na-us-bk&utm_medium=ha&utm_term=google%20chrome
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
The Indignities
I just got an email notification that campus will be closed - and classes cancelled - until Monday or Tuesday, depending on when the school gets power and running water back. Which means I'm going to have had like a week and a half vacation where none was scheduled. This does not bode well for my Fall break trip to Austin...I get the feeling it's going to be absorbed by my Fall break trip to make-up-7-days-of-classes-land. And since I did any reading that was due (and read ahead besides) long ago, AND finished all the episodes of House (up to and including the one that showed last night), I have moved on (or back) to Sex and the City. Nothing like a little mindless activity to enhance your already quite-mindless-enough activities.
Two fake compound words in one paragraph. I'm getting lazy.
Off to watch Carie & Co. make fools of themselves over men!
Two fake compound words in one paragraph. I'm getting lazy.
Off to watch Carie & Co. make fools of themselves over men!
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
I typed all that! It was NOT Cut and Paste.
Hey guys. I'm downloading iTunes! I know, I know. But this is a new computer! And I was just burned pretty badly by the Blackberry-PC liason program thingy, so I think I'm allowed to be behind the curve on this one. Anyway, I'm clicking through the program download options, and at the end it presents me with the iTunes Store Terms and Conditions. Item g on this list reads:
g. you may not use or otherwise export or re-export the Licenced Application as authorized by United States law and the laws of the jurisdiction in which the Licensed Application was obtained. In particular, but without limitation, the Licensed Application may not be exported or re-exported (a) into any U.S. embargoed countries, or (b) to anyone on the U.S. Treaury Department's list of Specially Designated Nationals or teh U.S. Department of Commerce Denied Person's List or Entity List. By using the Licensed Application, you represent and warratn that you are not located in any such country or on any such list. You also agree that you will not use these products for any purposes prohibited by United States law, including, without limitation, the development, design, manufacture or production of nuclear, missiles, or chemical or biological weapons.
So what you're saying, Steve Jobs, is you don't want me using iTunes to blow shit up?
I think that's reasonable.
g. you may not use or otherwise export or re-export the Licenced Application as authorized by United States law and the laws of the jurisdiction in which the Licensed Application was obtained. In particular, but without limitation, the Licensed Application may not be exported or re-exported (a) into any U.S. embargoed countries, or (b) to anyone on the U.S. Treaury Department's list of Specially Designated Nationals or teh U.S. Department of Commerce Denied Person's List or Entity List. By using the Licensed Application, you represent and warratn that you are not located in any such country or on any such list. You also agree that you will not use these products for any purposes prohibited by United States law, including, without limitation, the development, design, manufacture or production of nuclear, missiles, or chemical or biological weapons.
So what you're saying, Steve Jobs, is you don't want me using iTunes to blow shit up?
I think that's reasonable.
Only a Matter of Time
This video really needs no introduction. Except for the introduction that you are now reading, of course.
Doesn't that just warm your heart? Unfortunately, Amy Poehler just announced that she won't be returning to SNL after her maternity leave expires. WHAT?!!? I guess I'll have to warm my heart over at 30 Rock after November.
Doesn't that just warm your heart? Unfortunately, Amy Poehler just announced that she won't be returning to SNL after her maternity leave expires. WHAT?!!? I guess I'll have to warm my heart over at 30 Rock after November.
We Have Electricity
I don't know if it's generator power, or city of Houston power, but OH MY GOD WE HAVE POWER. I'm going to go turn all the lights on and writhe around on the floor now.
Sunday, September 14, 2008
My Hero
David Foster Wallace was just confirmed dead by the Los Angeles Times. He was 46.
Wallace was another writer who motivated me to be better, and I'll miss knowing that his genius is out there somewhere, just being as excellent as he was - being the unflagging standard to which I hold myself.
Wallace was another writer who motivated me to be better, and I'll miss knowing that his genius is out there somewhere, just being as excellent as he was - being the unflagging standard to which I hold myself.
Justin Long is Such a Putz
This should leave you breathless with laughter. If not, go bring someone else down.
Okay, power up. Let's go.
Okay, power up. Let's go.
Like Raisins
It's raining. And we still don't have power. And we don't know when we'll get power. So for now, we're taking more cold showers at my place than a guy who has a crush on his mom.
I took the first one. Thank god we're also having A/C problems, because they kind of cancel each other out: too hot? Take a shower. Too cold? Just sit down for thirty seconds and enjoy the fine sheen of perspiration that breaks out on your brow with absolutely no provocation! Too hot? etc.
What I want to know is why Houston's city planners arranged for us all to get our water from glaciers in Alaska. The Gulf is right there! Ohhh, now I get it. Glacier > AIDS.
I took the first one. Thank god we're also having A/C problems, because they kind of cancel each other out: too hot? Take a shower. Too cold? Just sit down for thirty seconds and enjoy the fine sheen of perspiration that breaks out on your brow with absolutely no provocation! Too hot? etc.
What I want to know is why Houston's city planners arranged for us all to get our water from glaciers in Alaska. The Gulf is right there! Ohhh, now I get it. Glacier > AIDS.
Getting Better
You need to read this. Immediately.
This is the kind of writing I aspire to. Not because it's funny, or because it's timely (even though it's totally both of those things). I aspire to it because it's smart. This is writing capable of sounding like it's coming from someone else. Everything I write, even if someone else was supposed to have said it, sounds like it's coming from me. I want to be better.
I want to be like that.
I saw a clip of Ira Glass on finslippy - he's talking about the struggle to be good at the creative process (whichever creative process you choose). I think I should be better at this; I've kept an online journal in one place or another for like seven years. But I still struggle along and get nowhere.
This makes me feel marginally better.
This is the kind of writing I aspire to. Not because it's funny, or because it's timely (even though it's totally both of those things). I aspire to it because it's smart. This is writing capable of sounding like it's coming from someone else. Everything I write, even if someone else was supposed to have said it, sounds like it's coming from me. I want to be better.
I want to be like that.
I saw a clip of Ira Glass on finslippy - he's talking about the struggle to be good at the creative process (whichever creative process you choose). I think I should be better at this; I've kept an online journal in one place or another for like seven years. But I still struggle along and get nowhere.
This makes me feel marginally better.
Friday, September 12, 2008
Liveblogging Hurricane Ike
1:51pm: The weather's fine (like really fine, not creepy "calm before the storm" fine. So I assume everyone is going about business as usual.
2:57pm: It's getting windy all of a sudden.
2:57pm: It's getting windy all of a sudden.
Hurricane Blog Post
One thing about living in a hurricane-prone city is that you get used to the newscaster hype. Even www.weather.com's "Hurricane Ike will produce a life-threatening surge on the SE Texas and SW La. coast" can't impress us. We go about business as usual, and when it does finally rain, we stay inside and text message each other about how lame hurricanes are. Then, when the storm has passed on to calmer waters, we have...A HURRICANE PARTY!! It's also necessary to qualify everything with "Hurricane". Like, we're going to a Hurricane Party! Last night I had a Hurricane Nap. Today I'm going to have a Hurricane Shower.
And that's why I'm ready for Ike. DO YOUR WORST!
To celebrate the coming "apocalypse", I am now sharing my favourite scene from Freaks and Geeks.
And that's why I'm ready for Ike. DO YOUR WORST!
To celebrate the coming "apocalypse", I am now sharing my favourite scene from Freaks and Geeks.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
How to Write an Episode of House in Ten Easy Limps (UPDATED!)
1. Open with either a zooming aerial shot of New Jersey, OR people walking in and out of the front door of the hospital, shot from below. A man or woman is involved in an everyday activity (driving a car, having sex, talking to a congressman) and suddenly starts acting funny. The person with whom the future patient is talking asks if they are okay. Future patient looks "funny", then falls to the ground and is unresponsive.
*THEME SONG, OPENING CREDITS*
2. Dr. House plays piano, gameboy, guitar, or with his yo-yo. OR listens to classic rock or blues while lying on the floor of his office.
3. He is interrupted by a female member of the hospital staff (either the one female on his diagnostics team, or Dr. Cuddy) who then tries to entice him to take on a confusing case. Dr. House demurs, female staff appeals to his human side, he diagnoses the case as food poisoning, drug addiction, or appendicitis. Female staff lists a rare symptom of the patient and brandishes the case file. Dr. House agrees but makes it well known that he's doing it to satisfy his own curiosity, NOT to help anyone, including the patient. He walks into an elevator (if they were walking through a hallway) or into his office (if they were in an elevator). Conflicty conversations with House never just take place in a hallway. Elevators are key.
4. Dr. House is avoiding Dr. Cuddy. She finds him; he harasses her because she insists on wearing very low-cut blouses to work as the Dean of Medicine, they have a sexually charged conversation where she admits that she is pretty but demands to be respected (always alluding to the fact that these two sleep together) and then forces him to work at the free clinic in the basement. He meets an unusual patient there, who trusts him despite every effort on House's part to alienate him or her (takes drugs in front of him/her, calls him/her an idiot or liar, accuses him/her of taking drugs).
5. Dr. House and his team diagnose the patient with a manageable/curable form of cancer. The team relays this news to the family, they rejoice and begin treatment.
6. Dr. House is in the clinic again, following up with the strange patient. He gives them treatment, about which they are extremely skeptical. He is called away from the clinic patient because...
7. His original patient is suffering one or more of the following symptoms:
- seizure
- bleeding from all orifices
- vomiting
- a 10 on the pain scale
Dr. House and his team decide that they have misdiagnosed the patient, and the treatment they were giving him or her is now killing him or her, making the situation worse than it was before they administered the drugs. Family member throws a fit regarding the ineptitude of everyone. Dr. Cuddy threatens to take House off the case because "you're killing him/her!" Dr. House appeals to the fact that she knows he's always right, and succeeds.
8. Dr. House and team meet in his office, write symptoms and theories on the white board. Team members shout out theories and disagree with each other. House demeans all of them on the basis of race, gender, or class. Finally they decide on something.
9. Dr. House is in the clinic again, following up with the second patient. He or she is cured! And they also inadvertently give Dr. House an idea as to how to fix the first patient. Dr. House rewards him or her by giving a pithy and often painful lesson about life (you and your husband have brown eyes, your kid has green eyes, stop lying to your husband/ you and your ex have unresolved issues/ you shouldn't pressure your daughter like that or she will become a serial killer and will STILL be fat). House exits the exam room, patient gives a confused, teary, "what was that?" look at the door slamming.
10. Dr. House bursts in just as the team is about to administer the second round of treatment. Everyone (especially the meddling father/ indecisive husband/ controlling wife of the patient) now really pissed. "You don't have AIDS/ a brain tumor the size of a baseball/ neurofibromatosis!" He narrowly saves the patient from being given very toxic drugs because they actually have heartburn because they're allergic to termites.
Happily, the termite allergy is treatable. Patient is wheeled out of the hospital by chagrined loved ones, Dr. House gives Dr. Cuddy a smug look, Dr. Cuddy tells Dr. House to get back to work.
*CLOSE CREDITS, SONG WITH MEANINGFUL LYRICS PLAYS*
Et voila! An Episode of House in Ten Easy Limps.
'Cause he, House, walks with a limp, get it?
*THEME SONG, OPENING CREDITS*
2. Dr. House plays piano, gameboy, guitar, or with his yo-yo. OR listens to classic rock or blues while lying on the floor of his office.
3. He is interrupted by a female member of the hospital staff (either the one female on his diagnostics team, or Dr. Cuddy) who then tries to entice him to take on a confusing case. Dr. House demurs, female staff appeals to his human side, he diagnoses the case as food poisoning, drug addiction, or appendicitis. Female staff lists a rare symptom of the patient and brandishes the case file. Dr. House agrees but makes it well known that he's doing it to satisfy his own curiosity, NOT to help anyone, including the patient. He walks into an elevator (if they were walking through a hallway) or into his office (if they were in an elevator). Conflicty conversations with House never just take place in a hallway. Elevators are key.
4. Dr. House is avoiding Dr. Cuddy. She finds him; he harasses her because she insists on wearing very low-cut blouses to work as the Dean of Medicine, they have a sexually charged conversation where she admits that she is pretty but demands to be respected (always alluding to the fact that these two sleep together) and then forces him to work at the free clinic in the basement. He meets an unusual patient there, who trusts him despite every effort on House's part to alienate him or her (takes drugs in front of him/her, calls him/her an idiot or liar, accuses him/her of taking drugs).
5. Dr. House and his team diagnose the patient with a manageable/curable form of cancer. The team relays this news to the family, they rejoice and begin treatment.
6. Dr. House is in the clinic again, following up with the strange patient. He gives them treatment, about which they are extremely skeptical. He is called away from the clinic patient because...
7. His original patient is suffering one or more of the following symptoms:
- seizure
- bleeding from all orifices
- vomiting
- a 10 on the pain scale
Dr. House and his team decide that they have misdiagnosed the patient, and the treatment they were giving him or her is now killing him or her, making the situation worse than it was before they administered the drugs. Family member throws a fit regarding the ineptitude of everyone. Dr. Cuddy threatens to take House off the case because "you're killing him/her!" Dr. House appeals to the fact that she knows he's always right, and succeeds.
8. Dr. House and team meet in his office, write symptoms and theories on the white board. Team members shout out theories and disagree with each other. House demeans all of them on the basis of race, gender, or class. Finally they decide on something.
9. Dr. House is in the clinic again, following up with the second patient. He or she is cured! And they also inadvertently give Dr. House an idea as to how to fix the first patient. Dr. House rewards him or her by giving a pithy and often painful lesson about life (you and your husband have brown eyes, your kid has green eyes, stop lying to your husband/ you and your ex have unresolved issues/ you shouldn't pressure your daughter like that or she will become a serial killer and will STILL be fat). House exits the exam room, patient gives a confused, teary, "what was that?" look at the door slamming.
10. Dr. House bursts in just as the team is about to administer the second round of treatment. Everyone (especially the meddling father/ indecisive husband/ controlling wife of the patient) now really pissed. "You don't have AIDS/ a brain tumor the size of a baseball/ neurofibromatosis!" He narrowly saves the patient from being given very toxic drugs because they actually have heartburn because they're allergic to termites.
Happily, the termite allergy is treatable. Patient is wheeled out of the hospital by chagrined loved ones, Dr. House gives Dr. Cuddy a smug look, Dr. Cuddy tells Dr. House to get back to work.
*CLOSE CREDITS, SONG WITH MEANINGFUL LYRICS PLAYS*
Et voila! An Episode of House in Ten Easy Limps.
'Cause he, House, walks with a limp, get it?
Monday, September 8, 2008
And Then I'll Be Sorry
Kyle's phone: Hey, baby! I'll call you in a bit. I'm in a crowded car with a bunch of boys. I love you!
Priya's phone: You know what they say about riding in cars with boys...
Kyle's phone: It's gay?
Priya's phone: That's how good girls get in trouble!
Kyle's phone: Are you calling me a good girl? The NERVE!
Priya's phone: No, you already did the riding. Now you're a bad girl. Yeah...definitely bad.
Kyle's phone: Hahahah...I'm a bad girl...that's terrible.
I seem to recall talking with Marion over lunch about a month ago when she warned me about these kinds of conversations, because - in her words - one day I will succeed at what I'm doing here, and then I'll be in a very strange relationship with a very confused man. Or woman.
Priya's phone: You know what they say about riding in cars with boys...
Kyle's phone: It's gay?
Priya's phone: That's how good girls get in trouble!
Kyle's phone: Are you calling me a good girl? The NERVE!
Priya's phone: No, you already did the riding. Now you're a bad girl. Yeah...definitely bad.
Kyle's phone: Hahahah...I'm a bad girl...that's terrible.
I seem to recall talking with Marion over lunch about a month ago when she warned me about these kinds of conversations, because - in her words - one day I will succeed at what I'm doing here, and then I'll be in a very strange relationship with a very confused man. Or woman.
Mistakes
I just spent two hours clicking between Locked Up Abroad and Babies: Special Delivery. That seems like a pretty big gap to bridge with just one click of the remote control, but when you think about it, they're both shows that warn you against being totally stupid and ruining your life by agreeing to carry someone else's stuff in or on your person.
Priya's Phone: Oh my god. Now I'm watching Babies: Special Delivery and my brain can't deal with all the blood.
Priya's Phone: OH MY GOD STRETCH MARKS. AAAHHHHRRRRGGGGHHHH!!!!!!
Priya's Phone: I just saw a lady get a c-section and SOME OF HER INTESTINES CAME OUT OH MY GOD OH MY GOOOODDDDD!!!!!!!!!!
Kyle's Phone: Everything you're saying is terrifying. Stop the madness. Please.
Priya's Phone: They just turned her UTERUS INSIDE OUT
And then I fainted. NEVER AGAIN!
Priya's Phone: Oh my god. Now I'm watching Babies: Special Delivery and my brain can't deal with all the blood.
Priya's Phone: OH MY GOD STRETCH MARKS. AAAHHHHRRRRGGGGHHHH!!!!!!
Priya's Phone: I just saw a lady get a c-section and SOME OF HER INTESTINES CAME OUT OH MY GOD OH MY GOOOODDDDD!!!!!!!!!!
Kyle's Phone: Everything you're saying is terrifying. Stop the madness. Please.
Priya's Phone: They just turned her UTERUS INSIDE OUT
And then I fainted. NEVER AGAIN!
Sunday, September 7, 2008
Back! v 3.0
I just got home from my overnight trip to San Antonio. Sorry for all the cloak and daggers shit this weekend; I was trying to keep it on the down low so I could surprise Caroline. And it worked. Priya's Secret Trip FTW. Can you FTW yourself, I wonder?
I landed in San Antonio at 1pm yesterday, my friend Dave (Kyle's friend from college, who is in San Antonio during September for work) picked me up and we went straight to Six Flags. It was a pretty routine day there, except almost nobody was there so we had very short waits in the lines, which was sweet. Dave convinced me to go on some upside-down rides...and it wasn't bad! I didn't fall out of the seat while we were upside down and break my neck or anything (this being my main fear regarding the upside down rides), and I even kept my eyes open on some of them.
Then we played some Wii in Dave's hotel room, and went out to dinner on the River Walk, which mostly smelled like stagnant brine, and got overcharged because we were tourists. And THEN we met up with Caroline, who showed us the strip of bars where all the college kids go, and stayed out until 3AM! Dave and I finally fell asleep at about 4:30. That was pretty ridiculous because I normally can't keep my eyes open past midnight, but I guess it was a special occasion. This morning I did some quick calculations and came to the conclusion that I'd been wearing my four-inch heels for 8 hours last night, and I managed to walk over some very unstable terrain and didn't twist my ankle or fall down and break my neck (this being my main fear regarding four-inch heels). I am awesome.
This morning we woke up and went to a sports bar to watch some Seahawks football, and sat next to some of the most obnoxious people I've ever met. I don't understand how people can get that worked up about anything. "I've got Seahawks towels, Seahawks blankets! Seahawks placemats," screamed the fan sitting across from me. His 1 year old son was sitting in his lap, wearing a tiny - and, admittedly, devestatingly cute - Hasselback jersey. I think that kid is probably going to grow up to be deaf. His dad will be, like, "BEIN' DEAF NEVER HURT NO QUARTERBACK!!!!!"
Then I flew back to Houston, suffered a 50 minute flight (about the length it took me to read two Vanity Fair articles), and now I'm back! No souveniers this time, either, folks. I've got enough as it is: this throbbing headache and the dire need for a bottle of water and a nap.
I landed in San Antonio at 1pm yesterday, my friend Dave (Kyle's friend from college, who is in San Antonio during September for work) picked me up and we went straight to Six Flags. It was a pretty routine day there, except almost nobody was there so we had very short waits in the lines, which was sweet. Dave convinced me to go on some upside-down rides...and it wasn't bad! I didn't fall out of the seat while we were upside down and break my neck or anything (this being my main fear regarding the upside down rides), and I even kept my eyes open on some of them.
Then we played some Wii in Dave's hotel room, and went out to dinner on the River Walk, which mostly smelled like stagnant brine, and got overcharged because we were tourists. And THEN we met up with Caroline, who showed us the strip of bars where all the college kids go, and stayed out until 3AM! Dave and I finally fell asleep at about 4:30. That was pretty ridiculous because I normally can't keep my eyes open past midnight, but I guess it was a special occasion. This morning I did some quick calculations and came to the conclusion that I'd been wearing my four-inch heels for 8 hours last night, and I managed to walk over some very unstable terrain and didn't twist my ankle or fall down and break my neck (this being my main fear regarding four-inch heels). I am awesome.
This morning we woke up and went to a sports bar to watch some Seahawks football, and sat next to some of the most obnoxious people I've ever met. I don't understand how people can get that worked up about anything. "I've got Seahawks towels, Seahawks blankets! Seahawks placemats," screamed the fan sitting across from me. His 1 year old son was sitting in his lap, wearing a tiny - and, admittedly, devestatingly cute - Hasselback jersey. I think that kid is probably going to grow up to be deaf. His dad will be, like, "BEIN' DEAF NEVER HURT NO QUARTERBACK!!!!!"
Then I flew back to Houston, suffered a 50 minute flight (about the length it took me to read two Vanity Fair articles), and now I'm back! No souveniers this time, either, folks. I've got enough as it is: this throbbing headache and the dire need for a bottle of water and a nap.
Saturday, September 6, 2008
Blitz
For the millionth time in my life, my parents have taken something normal and made it weird. What was supposed to be a road trip with my friend turned into a plane trip alone.
I hate planes.
I hate planes.
Friday, September 5, 2008
Move Overprotection
I'm about one argument, one misunderstanding, and one "you're being ridiculous" away from just tying both my parents together and tossing them in the bayou.
Thursday, September 4, 2008
The Big D, or This Week Has Been Unspeakably Heavy
I'm entering a pessimistic funk, readers. This is not like me. If I have fooled you into thinking that I view the world through the bottom of a dirty pint, then I have fooled you well. Be bamboozled no longer; I am an optimistic at heart, and the cynical misanthrope whose words you usually read here is merely a facet of my personality, magnified x100 by the choices I make in what I publish here...which are driven mostly by my ego and the insecurity it tries to shield. As such, I am mightily disheartened by all the divorce that's swirling around me this month. Of the four young married couples I know (under 30), two are in the throes of serious Divorce or Separation talk - the terminal stage of relationship malaise.
I am doggedly trying to take into account all the married couples I know who have been together for 25 years and seem largely happy, and those who have been together for more than 50 and are more or less still pleased with the arrangement (after you've known someone for 50 years - much less been married to their asses - what else are you supposed to feel, I wonder?), but they are part of completely different generations, who use different filters to determine what exactly is a marriage-ending conflict. For my grandparents, the filter allows only one: death. For my parents, and this is a wild guess, since I'm not really on speaking terms with their relationship as a couple (even typing "their relationship as a couple" made me give a little shudder), the spectrum of irreperable damage is slightly wider, probably including infidelity and other enormous deficiencies. Maybe some of this is cultural, and some of it is a personality thing - you have rarely met anyone as stalwart as my mom or stubborn as my dad - but I think there must be some correlation between the time that they came of age and their views on divorce.
For people my age, and this is what gives me the howling fantods in the commitment arena, it seems to me that almost anything can cast the dark shadow of doubt over previously stable circumstances. One set of my friends has always been unhappy, ever since I met them (about two years ago), and I hear awful things about them to this day. "Don't ever be stupid like me and get married!" he says, in front of his wife. "Being married is the worst thing that's ever happened to me," she says, with her arm wrapped stiffly around him, smile melting into a grimace. He sleeps on the couch every night - he says he does this because he falls asleep in front of the TV. They went away to Europe for a month, and when they came back, he stayed in the city with our friend O, and she went back to their apartment in a different area of town. They said it was for convenience's sake, since he was looking for a job in the area around O's apartment, but I know that if I had to look for a job in a different neighborhood, I'd make the commute - no matter how heinous - if it meant I got to sleep next to Kyle every night. And if he fell asleep in front of the TV, I'd wake him up and bring him back to bed. If for no better reason than the fact that I sleep better when he's there. They've been married four years, and this week O called and said that they were talking Separation in 2009.
Then there's the second couple, who dated for ten years before they tied the knot two years ago. She always bossed him around, but we assumed he was into that just as much as she was. And she made his job take the back seat to her career, but I thought that was fine since she had more education, a better position that paid more, and he works with ceramics for a living and probably gets a little support from his family. Last month I got a phone call from Kyle saying that they'd had a talk and admitted to each other that they had crushes on other people, and wanted to date outside of the marriage. The optimist in me (I told you, she's there!)said, "...well, that's cosmopolitan of them." But they didn't mean to stay together. For these two, the attraction to other people meant the death knell of them. I thought that therapy was beyond the first couple, since they suck immensely together, but couple number two seemed so happy when I last saw them that I find it hard to believe that they wouldn't at least give therapy a chance. I mean, at least give yourself the option of not being divorced before you turn 26, right? But Kyle's known them for about 15 years and says that it wouldn't help anything. They're separated now, and seem to be moving steadily in the direction of a divorce.
I went back and read my first paragraph, and realize that two marriages out of the sampled four ending in divorce is exactly on par with everyone else in the world, but that doesn't make me feel any better at all. It makes me feel sad, in a way that not much else does - some things make me feel sad for the present, but I can at least take solace in the fact that it will eventually end, and I can be happy about whatever it is someday. This makes me sad for the future, because it doesn't just have to do with the two people I happen to be talking about; it has to do with me, too, and everyone else in the world who thinks they are in love. I want everyone who wants to get married to be able to get married, and I want it to be everything they'd dreamed about and more (there's the optimist again), and I want them to have at the very least some modicum of happiness in their marriage forever and ever amen! The more I watch them fight and bitch and cry, the less I want to be a part of it, the less I want to get married, because I don't want to get divorced. Ever. I want to want to get married, and there are already a lot of other factors that are keeping me from wanting it.
I should at least want it because that means I can finally count on someone to love me and accept my love for the rest of my life, of that I am fairly sure. I hope it's possible, but the 50/50 odds here have turned me into the world's most unwilling skeptic.
I am doggedly trying to take into account all the married couples I know who have been together for 25 years and seem largely happy, and those who have been together for more than 50 and are more or less still pleased with the arrangement (after you've known someone for 50 years - much less been married to their asses - what else are you supposed to feel, I wonder?), but they are part of completely different generations, who use different filters to determine what exactly is a marriage-ending conflict. For my grandparents, the filter allows only one: death. For my parents, and this is a wild guess, since I'm not really on speaking terms with their relationship as a couple (even typing "their relationship as a couple" made me give a little shudder), the spectrum of irreperable damage is slightly wider, probably including infidelity and other enormous deficiencies. Maybe some of this is cultural, and some of it is a personality thing - you have rarely met anyone as stalwart as my mom or stubborn as my dad - but I think there must be some correlation between the time that they came of age and their views on divorce.
For people my age, and this is what gives me the howling fantods in the commitment arena, it seems to me that almost anything can cast the dark shadow of doubt over previously stable circumstances. One set of my friends has always been unhappy, ever since I met them (about two years ago), and I hear awful things about them to this day. "Don't ever be stupid like me and get married!" he says, in front of his wife. "Being married is the worst thing that's ever happened to me," she says, with her arm wrapped stiffly around him, smile melting into a grimace. He sleeps on the couch every night - he says he does this because he falls asleep in front of the TV. They went away to Europe for a month, and when they came back, he stayed in the city with our friend O, and she went back to their apartment in a different area of town. They said it was for convenience's sake, since he was looking for a job in the area around O's apartment, but I know that if I had to look for a job in a different neighborhood, I'd make the commute - no matter how heinous - if it meant I got to sleep next to Kyle every night. And if he fell asleep in front of the TV, I'd wake him up and bring him back to bed. If for no better reason than the fact that I sleep better when he's there. They've been married four years, and this week O called and said that they were talking Separation in 2009.
Then there's the second couple, who dated for ten years before they tied the knot two years ago. She always bossed him around, but we assumed he was into that just as much as she was. And she made his job take the back seat to her career, but I thought that was fine since she had more education, a better position that paid more, and he works with ceramics for a living and probably gets a little support from his family. Last month I got a phone call from Kyle saying that they'd had a talk and admitted to each other that they had crushes on other people, and wanted to date outside of the marriage. The optimist in me (I told you, she's there!)said, "...well, that's cosmopolitan of them." But they didn't mean to stay together. For these two, the attraction to other people meant the death knell of them. I thought that therapy was beyond the first couple, since they suck immensely together, but couple number two seemed so happy when I last saw them that I find it hard to believe that they wouldn't at least give therapy a chance. I mean, at least give yourself the option of not being divorced before you turn 26, right? But Kyle's known them for about 15 years and says that it wouldn't help anything. They're separated now, and seem to be moving steadily in the direction of a divorce.
I went back and read my first paragraph, and realize that two marriages out of the sampled four ending in divorce is exactly on par with everyone else in the world, but that doesn't make me feel any better at all. It makes me feel sad, in a way that not much else does - some things make me feel sad for the present, but I can at least take solace in the fact that it will eventually end, and I can be happy about whatever it is someday. This makes me sad for the future, because it doesn't just have to do with the two people I happen to be talking about; it has to do with me, too, and everyone else in the world who thinks they are in love. I want everyone who wants to get married to be able to get married, and I want it to be everything they'd dreamed about and more (there's the optimist again), and I want them to have at the very least some modicum of happiness in their marriage forever and ever amen! The more I watch them fight and bitch and cry, the less I want to be a part of it, the less I want to get married, because I don't want to get divorced. Ever. I want to want to get married, and there are already a lot of other factors that are keeping me from wanting it.
I should at least want it because that means I can finally count on someone to love me and accept my love for the rest of my life, of that I am fairly sure. I hope it's possible, but the 50/50 odds here have turned me into the world's most unwilling skeptic.
Enthusiastically Promoted Word of the Day
MAN, you guys. I was just taught the word "bougie" by my brother. Do you know what that is? I will tell you. urbandictionary.com defines bougie as:
Anything that is percieved as "upscale" from a blue-collar point of view. 'Bougie' (pronounced boo'-she) is a hacked truncation of the word Bourgeoisie, which refers to the middle-class in Europe, but refers to a more affluent class level in the United States.
As you all know, when urbandictionary.com defines something for you, they don't just leave you twisting in the wind like some dictionaries I could name. They give you examples, so you never have to make a fool out of yourself by describing yourself as "narcotic" when you really mean to say that you are "neurotic" (yeah, there are a lot of stupid people in my life right now). My favourite example was this one:
"What kind of chips are those?"
"Organic Parmesan Oregeno with Olive Oil, they're 4 dollars a bag"
"Man those are bougie chips"
They totally ARE bougie chips!
But I am not that clever. Also, I am most likely the one who is eating those organic parmesan chips, and using words in relation to yourself just for the excuse is lame. How about this context, instead?
When my friend Miya wears a blazer or Lucy gets a massage I call them bougie cause we're unemployed college students.
Then again, I'm probably the one who is most likely to wear a blazer or get a massage, too...my friends are too real for either of those things.
The point is that I can't decide whether "bougie" tickles me because I genuinely like the evolution of language, or if I'm laughing because the only alternative would be to cry.
Anything that is percieved as "upscale" from a blue-collar point of view. 'Bougie' (pronounced boo'-she) is a hacked truncation of the word Bourgeoisie, which refers to the middle-class in Europe, but refers to a more affluent class level in the United States.
As you all know, when urbandictionary.com defines something for you, they don't just leave you twisting in the wind like some dictionaries I could name. They give you examples, so you never have to make a fool out of yourself by describing yourself as "narcotic" when you really mean to say that you are "neurotic" (yeah, there are a lot of stupid people in my life right now). My favourite example was this one:
"What kind of chips are those?"
"Organic Parmesan Oregeno with Olive Oil, they're 4 dollars a bag"
"Man those are bougie chips"
They totally ARE bougie chips!
But I am not that clever. Also, I am most likely the one who is eating those organic parmesan chips, and using words in relation to yourself just for the excuse is lame. How about this context, instead?
When my friend Miya wears a blazer or Lucy gets a massage I call them bougie cause we're unemployed college students.
Then again, I'm probably the one who is most likely to wear a blazer or get a massage, too...my friends are too real for either of those things.
The point is that I can't decide whether "bougie" tickles me because I genuinely like the evolution of language, or if I'm laughing because the only alternative would be to cry.
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
Brought to You by the Unintentional Hilarity Board of I'm Stupid
SETTING: I'm sitting here on the computer, reading www.passiveaggressivenotes.com, and my brother comes in to see what I'm up to.
Devin: "What are you reading?"
Priya (reflexively/rudely): "What are you reading?!"
*Both stare at each other for a moment, shocked and confused, respectively*
Priya: "I mean, what, what, what's that in your glass? What are you drinking? I'm just hanging around on the internet!"
Devin: "What are you reading?"
Priya (reflexively/rudely): "What are you reading?!"
*Both stare at each other for a moment, shocked and confused, respectively*
Priya: "I mean, what, what, what's that in your glass? What are you drinking? I'm just hanging around on the internet!"
These People Handle My Money
I was at the bank a while ago and had to make a deposit to my bank account, which is registered in Washington. I asked for an out-of-state-account deposit slip, filled it out, and made sure to reiterate twice to the girl working behind the counter that my account is in WASHINGTON STATE, not WASHINGTON DC. She kept giving me this aggravated look and going, "yes, I remember," in a way that was only technically polite. Then, as I predicted (she had this glazed Jessica Simpson look about her), she had a problem trying to find my acccount.
Priya: "Did you select Washington STATE, not Washington DC?" I asked, trying to stay calm.
Teller: "Yes."
Priya: "Maybe you should ask someone for help."
Teller: "Are you sure this is the right account number?"
Priya: "I've had this account for 3 years and have been making deposits to it every 2 weeks that whole time. So yes, I'm sure. Do you have a supervisor I can talk to?"
Teller: *AGGRO SIGH* "LIIIISAAAAA. THIS CUSTOMER IS HAVING PROBLEMS WITH HER ACCOUNT."
(Yes, I too noted her completely avoiding responsibility - I'M the one with the problem still, not her)
Lisa: "Hi. How can I help you?"
Priya: "Hey there. I'm trying to make a deposit to a Washington state account - NOT Washington DC - and your teller is having trouble trying to find it. The account number is correct. Can you please help me?"
Lisa: "Oh, yes. Here we are. Are you Priya?"
Priya: "Yes! Thank you."
Lisa (addressing Teller): "You have to select Washington state. You had selected Washington DC here in the computer." (Addressing me) "Your deposit has been made, and the funds are available now."
Teller (petulantly): "What's the difference between Washington state and Washington DC?"
This is the kind of thing that makes me want to make a complaint to someone in corporate, but what am I going to do? Shall I have them give her a citation for having an IQ of 95?
Priya: "Did you select Washington STATE, not Washington DC?" I asked, trying to stay calm.
Teller: "Yes."
Priya: "Maybe you should ask someone for help."
Teller: "Are you sure this is the right account number?"
Priya: "I've had this account for 3 years and have been making deposits to it every 2 weeks that whole time. So yes, I'm sure. Do you have a supervisor I can talk to?"
Teller: *AGGRO SIGH* "LIIIISAAAAA. THIS CUSTOMER IS HAVING PROBLEMS WITH HER ACCOUNT."
(Yes, I too noted her completely avoiding responsibility - I'M the one with the problem still, not her)
Lisa: "Hi. How can I help you?"
Priya: "Hey there. I'm trying to make a deposit to a Washington state account - NOT Washington DC - and your teller is having trouble trying to find it. The account number is correct. Can you please help me?"
Lisa: "Oh, yes. Here we are. Are you Priya?"
Priya: "Yes! Thank you."
Lisa (addressing Teller): "You have to select Washington state. You had selected Washington DC here in the computer." (Addressing me) "Your deposit has been made, and the funds are available now."
Teller (petulantly): "What's the difference between Washington state and Washington DC?"
This is the kind of thing that makes me want to make a complaint to someone in corporate, but what am I going to do? Shall I have them give her a citation for having an IQ of 95?
Couldn't agree with you more, Dave Dederer.
I'd use any reason,
I'd use any trick,
Just to spend my loose change
On a fist sized ice-cream cone at Dick's.
I'd use any trick,
Just to spend my loose change
On a fist sized ice-cream cone at Dick's.
"My People by Choice"
As an exercise in my literary criticism class last week, our prof had us read Little Red-Cap, which was a different take on Little Red Riding Hood than we had known previously. She wanted us to take apart the story using what little we knew about the different kinds of criticism and discuss the results, like so:
"I was interested in the morals the author provided at the end: they're obviously not for children, so who was the intended audience for this story?"
"I wanted to know why the huntsmen appeared out of nowhere and then decided to find out what the grandmother wanted because she was snoring so loudly - usually that's a sign to go away, right?"
"I thought it was funny that the women in this story were so powerless and passive."
and so on.
We were all going along quite nicely, until:
"I was upset that they painted the wolf in such a bad light. Wolves get such a bad rap, and they don't deserve it at all - they're just doing what they were meant to do as animals. This story doesn't even make any sense: wolves don't eat people. And wolves are pack animals! So what was this wolf doing in the woods all alone, harassing little girls? And there used to be so many of them - now there are hardly any at all. It's because of stories like this that people distrust them. So maybe if the author had made a point of the fact that this wolf was a deviant or something, then I would have liked this story better."
Can you really blame me that I raised my hand and wanted to know, "wait, you really think that wolves are endangered because the hunters who kill them are traumatized by the stories they were told as children? HAHAHA oh, you're serious."
Then the prof looked kind of perturbed, the student wanted to know if there was "an environmentalist type of criticism," and Brad Pitt and Yorkie looked at me, looked back at each other and rolled their eyes! I bet they were all the kind of people who posed with their pets for their senior yearbook pictures.
"I was interested in the morals the author provided at the end: they're obviously not for children, so who was the intended audience for this story?"
"I wanted to know why the huntsmen appeared out of nowhere and then decided to find out what the grandmother wanted because she was snoring so loudly - usually that's a sign to go away, right?"
"I thought it was funny that the women in this story were so powerless and passive."
and so on.
We were all going along quite nicely, until:
"I was upset that they painted the wolf in such a bad light. Wolves get such a bad rap, and they don't deserve it at all - they're just doing what they were meant to do as animals. This story doesn't even make any sense: wolves don't eat people. And wolves are pack animals! So what was this wolf doing in the woods all alone, harassing little girls? And there used to be so many of them - now there are hardly any at all. It's because of stories like this that people distrust them. So maybe if the author had made a point of the fact that this wolf was a deviant or something, then I would have liked this story better."
Can you really blame me that I raised my hand and wanted to know, "wait, you really think that wolves are endangered because the hunters who kill them are traumatized by the stories they were told as children? HAHAHA oh, you're serious."
Then the prof looked kind of perturbed, the student wanted to know if there was "an environmentalist type of criticism," and Brad Pitt and Yorkie looked at me, looked back at each other and rolled their eyes! I bet they were all the kind of people who posed with their pets for their senior yearbook pictures.
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
We're ALL getting older!
My blog turned 1 on May 25th and I never got it a birthday present. I'm a bad, bad blogger. I shall think on this during class today, you can be sure of that.
Monday, September 1, 2008
Back! v 2.0
I have returned from Montreal! I didn't bring you any sexy French-Canadians, dear readers. I am sorry. I did, however, get my bangs trimmed and the hair"dresser" was totally on acid and now my bangs are crooked, so consider that my punishment for treating you so poorly.
The wedding was fun enough: we got to listen to a slightly mortifying sermon (there was a Roman Catholic wedding as well as the anticipated mix of awkward hugs, pretending to remember people, and friendly relatives. Mostly awkward hugs. Speaking of friendly relatives though, I'd like to give a big shoutout to my aunt Lopa and uncle Sanjeev...who outed themselves as sometime readers here. Which means no more joking references to my time as a rabid LA partygirl OR mentions of the word "vagina". I know, I KNOW. Vaginas are so much a part of my material that I don't know what I'll do. But I'm sure we'll soldier on together, readers, and make it in the end.
Pardon my tone - I've been reading Pride and Prejudice (again) for my 19th Century Novel class and it's clearly infected my brain. I've come down with a fever or some other obscure malaise of the heart. Or it could be the air conditioner here is having difficulties reviving after our weekend away. In either case, I'm off to wash my face, drink a bottle of water, and TO BED!
Or...to listen to twelve more episodes of the Ricky Gervais podcast.
The wedding was fun enough: we got to listen to a slightly mortifying sermon (there was a Roman Catholic wedding as well as the anticipated mix of awkward hugs, pretending to remember people, and friendly relatives. Mostly awkward hugs. Speaking of friendly relatives though, I'd like to give a big shoutout to my aunt Lopa and uncle Sanjeev...who outed themselves as sometime readers here. Which means no more joking references to my time as a rabid LA partygirl OR mentions of the word "vagina". I know, I KNOW. Vaginas are so much a part of my material that I don't know what I'll do. But I'm sure we'll soldier on together, readers, and make it in the end.
Pardon my tone - I've been reading Pride and Prejudice (again) for my 19th Century Novel class and it's clearly infected my brain. I've come down with a fever or some other obscure malaise of the heart. Or it could be the air conditioner here is having difficulties reviving after our weekend away. In either case, I'm off to wash my face, drink a bottle of water, and TO BED!
Or...to listen to twelve more episodes of the Ricky Gervais podcast.
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