"help me to a candle, and pen, ink and paper" twelfth night: iv, ii

Howdy, folks, and welcome all newcomers to the latest stop on the Amy Guth Chanukah blog tour.

For those who have been living under a rock this year, Amy is the author of Three Fallen Women. This is her:

(She gave me an official “author picture” to use but I am using this one instead because I feel like it better portrays her sticking-it-to-the-man-ness.)


By way of introduction to those who are just joining us (since my regular readership is maybe 6 people – hi Mom and Dad), let me just say that in fact I am not Jewish, not even a little bit. However, I will without regret reveal right now that I handed down a massive ass whooping to Ms. Guth last Chanukah when it came time to play dreidel, and I have been richly rewarded with this place on the blog tour.


Now, with introductions out of the way and with no further ado: onto the blog tour survey (or meme, as we’re apparently now calling them):

1. Quick! You must turn a plate of latkes into an upscale gourmet delight (as if they aren't already?). What would you add to them to dress them up, flavor and/or garnish them?

Hmmm. I feel like I ought to add some kind of Eye-talian flair here what with my own heritage and all. So here’s what we do. Grate some parmesan cheese and add that into the latke batter before frying them. Then, roasted eggplant and roasted garlic pureed with a bit of olive oil; put a dollop of that on each latke, then garnish with some fresh chopped basil. Sounds good to me.

2. What is the dumbest thing you've ever heard anyone say about Chanukah?

Oh, man, I said the dumbest thing I can think of. It’s not strictly about Chanukah but I think when you read the story you’ll see that it qualifies in the spirit of the question. I really struggled with whether I should even reveal this or just make something up or go with a second best, but I started feeling like I needed to get it off my chest. Actually one of my readers may even remember this interchange, since he was one of the people I said it to, but hopefully he doesn’t remember it, because that will mean that it wasn’t as big a deal as I felt like it was. Let me also just preface this by saying that I said this 11 years ago when I was a freshman in college. I was a kid, a kid I tell ya.

So it’s early December, my first semester away from home, I’m looking forward to getting through exams and going back home for the holidays and the new year. A friend downstairs just invited me down to her dorm room to watch the "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer" special on tv with a bunch of other people. Excited, I head downstairs. I pass by the lounge and see a small group of people sitting and talking. I know most of them, and I’m excited like a little kid about the tv special (which, I swear, I really just thought of as seasonal at the time; my upbringing and leanings were so non-religious that I sometimes didn’t even think about the christian-ness of Christmas, more just as a time of light and traditions), so I stop for a second and say to the group at large “Hey guys, are you coming over to watch the Rudolph special?” The whole group looks at me, kind of dumbfounded, and I can’t figure out why, until one of the girls finally just says “This is the Jewish Students’ Association meeting.”

Aw-kward moment. Oh, man, what an ASSHOLE! Oh, man, I felt like melting into the floor; what a fucking idiot. I tell you what though, it taught me a valuable lesson about how making an assumption can make an ass out of “u” and “mption.” Christ, I’m blushing even as I write this. Onward we roll.

3. What's the best possible use for olive oil?

Best possible?? Wow, that is a hard question. There are so many excellent uses. I’m going to go with sautéing garlic to be tossed with pasta and parmesan cheese. I’ve lived on that at times.

4. Settle it once and for all. Latkes or hammentaschen? Which do you prefer? What about pitting the winner of that contest against sufganiyot?

Ok, so I actually knew what two of the three of these was without even looking them up. In the first bout, latkes win, because potatoes are a good argument for a loving deity, if you ask me, and frying them in oil just makes them more delicious. I have tried hammentaschen a couple times and been underwhelmed. I found them a little dry and just, as sweets go, not very fulfilling. Actually, at a bakery I worked at in Santa Fe, someone came in wanting to know if we could make hammentaschen for Purim. Well, none of the bakers were Jewish (I was the only baker who even knew even a little bit what Purim was and that hammentaschen were the associated pastry), but the owner’s wife was Jewish, and she said she thought she might have a recipe. She brought the recipe in, and we tried to make them, but we couldn’t really get the dough to come together. We ended up making some other kind of similar dough, I think, and then just sort of shaping them approximately right. The owner’s wife was like “These are actually good; real hammentaschen are gross; I didn’t think anyone liked them.” Huh.

As far as sufganiyot go, I had to look them up; I’d never heard of them. They would have had a fighting chance if not for the jelly filling. Ick. Potato pancakes vs. a jelly donut? Winner: Latke.

5. What's the best way to mix up a game of dreidel?

Well, I’ve played dreidel twice in my life; most recently, was the aforementioned time I was the only non-Jewish player, and I WHOOPED ASS. The only other time was when I was a little kid, maybe 6 or 7 years old; for some reason that year we had decided to observe some Chanukah traditions (my folks raised us Unitarian and were all for diversity). My mom had brought home a dreidel and we had very basic instructions on how to play, so she left my sister and I alone with the dreidel and some chocolate coins. The game quickly deteriorated into an argument over which symbol meant what, and then we kind of just abandoned it. Rudolph was probably on tv that night.

6. My novel, Three Fallen Women, shockingly enough, is about the lives of three women. Which three women would you like to have over this year for latkes and why?

I sure would love to be with my sister Jenny and share a nice latke or two; sadly she lives too far for that this year. *Sigh.* Come to think of it, I would also like my mother to join in, as I can’t think of the last time the three of us sat down together and just hung out. Finally, it sounds like I’m sucking up, but Amy Guth would be my third pick; she’s always good for fun times and potato products. Wait what?

7. Other than Three Fallen Women (har har), what book do you think would make a great Chanukah gift this year? What book would you like to receive as a gift this year?

I recently read “In Cold Blood” and really enjoyed it; a gripping read. If I knew someone who hadn’t read it, who could stomach it, I’d get that for them. As for what I would like to receive, well, I have but three words: “U2 by U2”. I’m a dork. What are ya gonna do? Hey, no laughing and pointing or I’ll beat your ass at dreidel, too!!

8. What bloggers didn't participate in Chanukah Blog Tour 5767 and you think should have?

Golly, I have to confess I can’t think of anyone … I’m so out of it in the blogosphere.

Well, anyway, this had been great!! Happy Chanukah everyone; thanks for letting me join in!! (Lesson learned: I did NOT say “thanks for letting me join in your reindeer games!” Progress, not perfection, folks.)

"the future comes apace:" timon of athens: ii, ii

So I was at the post office tonight and by the front door, there is this regular post box that has been painted red, with cute graphics, candy canes, and the words "Santa's Mail" painted on it. Aw, how cute, was my first thought, followed immediately, almost overlappingly (is that a word?) with the thought that inside the mail box is probably a chute that leads directly out to the Dumpster. Wah wah wah wahhh - happy Christmas, kiddies.

So just a quick post here, this evening, and I do want to mention a not-to-be-missed event here at ye olde Skirmish of Wit, happening this coming Friday evening (December 22): I'll be participating in the Chanukah Blog Tour being held by none other than Amy Guth, author of Three Fallen Women. Although I am not Jewish, I have played dreidel, and eaten latkes, and participated in a menorah lighting. So I'm up for anything, and anything I'm a little hazy on, well, I'll just push on through. It'll be a blast so stop on by!

"a christmas comedy" love's labour's lost: v, ii

I'm going to come right out and say that I enjoy Christmas. I actually do. But not in like a rabid, "everything must be perfect," lights up all over the house in mid-November kind of way. I just happen to take some pleasure in the traditions. I'm not religious, but I do like religious Christmas carols, as well as the secular songs of the season. The thing about the religious carols is that, because of the fudging done in the days of early christianity by the Romans to ensure that the pagans would get on board with the new state religion, the whole story of Christmas is more or less fictionalized, seeing as Jesus the historical figure was born in the Spring (I seem to remember). And, being of a literary ilk, I can get behind fictionalized history, with a little bit of poetry thrown in. "O little town of Bethlehem how still we see thee lie/Above thy deep and dreamless streets the silent stars go by." That's nice imagery. As a little kid, that line always got me. I like the kind of old timey sound of the music of the song too. This year it is kind of ridiculously warm for December here in the Northeast. Therefore there's a lot of people out, whooping it up, enjoying the warm weather, in recent evenings. Not exactly deep and dreamless streets, but what are ya gonna do.

I think it's kind of funny how all the news outlets have to do some kind of new take on the Christmas thing at this time of year. It can't just be like "And, this month, millions of christians will celebrate Christmas, putting a strain on retail resources and electrical companies alike" kind of reporting. They've gotta find an angle on the historical thing. "The World of the Nativity" is Newsweek's this year. Pretty soon they'll be grasping at straws. "Joseph and Mary: the first Brangelina?"

I also saw a piece on CNN.com about some fucking asshole pastor in Ohio or someplace who's raging on about the "Secular Jihad" that's taking place against the christians. Uh, sir, I'm not sure you understand what the word "jihad" really means. I mean, yes, strictly speaking, it can mean any kind of vigorous struggle for an idea or principle, but - well, for me anyway - using that word creates a connotation that the people who are attacking have a religious conviction. I guess what he's getting at is that idea so many christians have about Secularism being a religion and blah blah they're trying to extinguish our rights to practice religion. I don't think these folks understand that they're the ones who are trying to impose their will on others, and the people who are being subjected to it are just trying to say, hey, I don't care what you believe, just don't use my tax dollars to pay for a nativity scene at the town hall. I guess that is the problem with "knowing" your faith is the right one: you just can't understand why people won't just see it your way. I started reading at a bookstore (I want to pick up a copy and finish it) this book called "Letter to a Christian Nation," by Sam Harris, and at one point he said something that pretty much sums up my thoughts on the matter; basically what he said was, (he's talking to a Christian here) understand that the way you feel about how wrong Muslims and Jews and whoever else are about religion and God, that's the way I view your beliefs. That's the thing, is religious zealots who think they've got it right, I think, a lot of times just think that people really do secretly believe what they believe, but choose to ignore it. When in fact, no, there's some real holes in your argument.

Anyway, I'm not going to go on about this more, I just think it's so strange that christians in some places think they have this right to monopolize the social and economic calendar every December.

That being said. I do like Christmas, as I mentioned before. I think of it as a pagan ritual, more than anything, to kind of ward off the darkness we're being enveloped in, to draw those we care about closer in our hearts, to prepare for the new year. There's a humor writer for the Washington Post named Gene Weingarten, and he was asked how he views Christmas and approached it when his kids were young, since he is culturally Jewish and his wife is not. He said "Christmas is a terrific time and we get a tree and presents and mom makes soup and stuff! Yay, Christmas!"

I mean, soup! Yeah! I can get behind soup. Let's just not get too pushy if someone doesn't, say, care for soup. I can enjoy my soup just fine, even if someone near me chooses to pass. No problem. I don't need to feel attacked, ya know?

"varying in subjects" love's labour's lost: v, ii

What kind of sicko gets up at 5:15am when 6:00am would have done just as well? This kid, that's who. Why, I cannot say, except that I just get so anxious that I am not going to wake up in time that I never get to sleep very well at all. It's one trait that I truly can say I wouldn't miss in myself if it suddenly disappeared.

****

Conversation I overheard the other night waiting for a bus:

Young Aspiring Hippie Man #1: I couldn't believe how mad he was! And he was all up in my face, like, yelling about you, and I'm all, Dude, I'm not Jason!

Young Aspiring Hippie Man #2: Yeah he totally lost his shit, man, it was unreal.

Young Aspiring Hippie Woman: Wait, so who was that dude?

Young Aspiring Hippie Man #1: This fucking guy Noah, who's all, like bent out of shape.

Young Aspiring Hippie Woman: What was his deal?

Young Aspiring Hippie Man #2: He's just pissed that I threw a brick through his car back window when I was drunk the other night.

Huh. I just wanted to shake them, but I couldn't bear to get too close; they clearly hadn't showered in days.

****

I never buy US Magazine and then feel good about it. I bought one yesterday and I'm just not sure why. I actually used to read it all the time and derive glee from it, from reading about celebrity mishaps. But a few months ago, there was some smug cover story about a famous couple splitting up (maybe), and suddenly it just wasn't fun for me anymore. Yeah, they're famous, but they're still people, and heartbreak isn't something I should feel gleeful about. So what, someone famous made a poor decision in who they fell in love with -- I know plenty of non-famous people who do that, and I don't express pleasure when it happens to them. It was like a moment of clarity, a weird moment where I realized my worldview had shifted. Why did I buy it yesterday? It was a weird regression, I suddenly felt like I wanted to wallow in someone else's despair for a half hour. But it was a joyless wallowing, and now I feel like I should like, donate a pint of blood or something to make up for it.

Actually, I just donated blood a couple weeks ago. It was my first time donating in a mobile blood center, instead of at a center or in a school gymnasium. In the trailers, they have several cots that are all kind of facing each other, so you end up being able to see the other people who are donating. So I'm sitting on the cot, the technician does her thing, gets me started on the donation, and I sit there placidly making conversation for a few minutes. Meanwhile, this other lady comes in and gets started up. Well, she sits there looking at me with this like glint in her eye, and she's pumping her hand fairly furiously while her donation is going on. After several minutes, she takes a phone call from her son and berates him for not getting his homework done early enough. She hangs up the phone, looks down at her donation sac and then back at me, then goes "Ha! I'm totally beating you!" Uh, wahhh? I didn't realize this was a contest! I didn't realize the object here was to lose as much blood as quickly as possible here! Geez! So, yeah, she did beat me. The technician finishes her up, and she sits down for the minimum number of minutes, refusing the Lorna Dunes (Christ, that's the whole reason for donating! Oreos and cranberry juice!), and then swoops out of the trailer, with a sort of "See ya, suckas" attitude. I guess no one told her that there's no award for quickest donation. It was thoroughly bizarre.

"like a bold champion, i assume the lists" pericles, prince of tyre: i, i II

Do you snore?
I've been told once or twice that I was snoring, but not regularly, no. Apparently I do talk in my sleep. Nothing incriminating, I hope.
Are you a lover or a fighter?
A fighter. I wish I wasn't but I am.
What's your worst fear?
death by fire's a good one. I have so many fears, it's tough to pick my all time fave.
As a kid, were you a Lego Maniac?
Nah. I had Loc-Blocs at one point but never graduated to Legos. I was a big fan of the ol' scotch tape and paper bag type of crafts, not the building stuff.
What do you think of reality tv?
I hate it, and in fact hate almost all tv, which is why I gave it up.
Do you chew on your straws?
Sometimes.
Were you a cute baby?
My parents kept me, so I guess I was cute enough.
Is the single life for you?
No.
What color is your keyboard?
I dunno, it's like colorless. Grey? Generic? That reminds me when Ned Flanders asks his boys what kind of ice cream they want and one of them replies "flavorless!"
Do you sing in the shower?
Sometimes, when the Spirit is upon me.
Have you ever bungee jumped?
Nope. Can't see that happening.
Any secret talents?
Not any I'm willing to reveal here.
What's your ideal vacation spot?
The World.
Can you swim?
Yah.
Have you seen the movie Donnie Darko?
Yeah. It was good, but not like, life altering or anything.
Do you give a damn about the ozone?
Yeah I do. The earth will be fine either way, but I think we humans may be fucked.
How many licks does it take to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop?
A-one, a-two, a-thrrrreee!
Can you sing the alphabet backwards?
Why on earth would I know the answer to that? Why would I try? It's in order for a reason! (uh, and that reason is, uh, .... very important, I'm sure!)
Do you prefer electric or manual pencil sharpener?
I like the little ones that you just twist around the end of the pencil. Actually, I try to use mechanical pencils whenever I can.
What's your stand on hunting?
Wouldn't do it, don't mind if others do do it, if it's with respect and care for the animal and its environment.
Is marriage in your future?
Was this meme written by a 16 year old?
Do you like your handwriting?
No, my handwriting is an embarrassment.
What are you allergic to?
Nothing that I am aware of.
When was the last time you said, I love you?
About twenty minutes ago when I said good night to my dad.
Do you cry at weddings?
If I really know and like the participants, yes, but not just as a general rule.
How do you like your eggs?
I'll eat an omelet under great duress.
Are blondes dumb?
Some are. Some aren't. It's not a guy's fault if he's born with blonde hair, I won't hold it against him.
Where does the other sock end up?
Heh.
What time is it?
"A-four-thirty! It's not late - nah, nah! It's just early, early, early!" (the spin doctors.)
Do you have a nickname?
Not that anyone calls me in polite company. Oh, I used to be called Angry Nicky. I've chilled out some, though. I actually told someone I work with that I used to be called that and he flat-out called me a liar, he didn't believe me. So I punched him.
Is McDonalds disgusting?
Yeah. The fries are tempting but I try to avoid them; I never eat them and then think "yeah, I'm glad I ate that."
When was the last time you were in a car?
Like twenty minutes ago.
Do you prefer baths or showers?
Whatever, as long as the water is nice and hot, I get can get comfortable either way.
Is Santa Claus real?
Yes, Virginia.
Do you like to have your neck kissed?
Do I!
Are you afraid of the dark?
I must confess that I really still am.
What are you addicted to?
Caffeine.
Crunchy or creamy peanut butter?
Creamy. What, do you think I'm a communist??
Can you crack your neck?
No. That's gross.
Have you ever ridden in an ambulance?
No, thank goodness.
Is drug free the way to be?
For me it is. For you? Do whatever, I don't give a shit. (Unless you're my downstairs neighbor. Dude. Get help.)
Are you a heavy sleeper?
Yeah. More than anything, I'm a fast sleeper, in the sense that when I lay down, I rarely have to wait long before I am in a deep and dreamless sleep. That is one of the nice things about doing physical labor all day.
What color are your eyes?
brown-ish whatever.
Do you like your life?
Most of the time. Could use improvements in places, but all in all I have it pretty darn good.
Are you psychic?
Sometimes I think I might be a little. I sometimes can totally guess what the next song that comes up on my iPod will be!
Have you read Catcher in the Rye?
Yeah. That's funny I was actually just talking about CITR with my dad tonight.
Do you play any instruments?
I play men's souls like Billy Joel plays the piano.
Have you ever stolen money?
Probably the odd dollar here or there from around the house when I was a kid.
Can you snowboard?
I tried once. I did well for a while but when I got tired I turned into a cranky-pants.
Do you like camping?
Yeah I was practically born in a tent.
Do you snort when you laugh?
No, but I have that annoying kind of hiccup-y sounding laugh. I hate my laugh.
Do you believe in magic?
uh, sure.
Are dogs a man's best friend?
I am not really a dog person but I am sure there are some men for whom their dogs are their best friends.
Do you believe in divorce?
Only if it's with the right person.
Can you do the Moonwalk?
Boy, I wish I could! I WOULD USE THAT!!!!!!!
Do you make a lot of mistakes?
I think I think I make more than I actually make. But, yes. "Everyone makes mistakes," as that wise sage Big Bird once said.
Is it cold outside today?
Chilly. Kind of smells like snow, though I know it's too warm for it.
What was the last thing you ate?
A Magic Bar (hey, yeah, I DO believe in magic!!)
Do you wear nail polish?
Not allowed by health code.
How many people do you like right now?
You mean LIKE-like or just like? Or like, LIKE-like-like?
What's the most annoying tv commercial?
I am blissfully unaware of any tv commercials.
Do you shop at American Eagle?
Dude the sizes there are fucking ridiculous. I think I once saw a size 000 there.
Favorite song at the moment?
I've been really into Guillemots lately. "Made Up Love Song" is excellent.
Who are you tagging?
I'm not. This was a long-ass meme! I don't know anyone who has the same kind of free-time I do! But if you have free time and you want to self-tag, feel free!

"sing, and dance it trippingly." a midsummer night's dream: v, i

So tonight I was given a ticket to see "Movin' Out;" the touring show was at our local performing arts center. All I knew going in was that they took the music of Billy Joel and made a musical. I think that's a little misleading, though, because what they actually did was take the music of Billy Joel, have a kid on stage with a piano and a band singing his songs, and made a ballet. Not to say it was bad - the cast was quite talented and all in all, the dancing was quite good, even excellent at times. But there were points, I must say, where I felt like I might be watching the final dance scene from Center Stage, the movie about ballet dancers at Juliard or wherever, where there's the young upstart choreographer/dancer, who has all these ideas, man, and the stodgy old school won't let him try them out, until his final presentation at the end of term, where he gets to show his stuff, and the asshole drives his actual motorcycle on stage (there is a scene in "Movin' Out" where a car is driven on stage!). I guess I felt like there were times when the choreography was a little too literal, is all. But a lot of it was very good, and all in all, I was won over; and let it be said that I am not a "musicals" kind of gal, even though we have already established that it wasn't really a musical but instead a ballet with live vocalists. But, just for the record, according to the synopsis in the program, one of the characters "becomes her own woman," which apparently means changing into a red dress, dancing with a lot of guys all at once, and then becoming a stripper. Oh, and then settling down with a nice boy. So if you wondered what it meant to "be your own woman," now you know. Just FYI.

Oh, also Katie tagged me on another meme. Answers forthcoming.

"you taught me language; and my profit on't is, i know how to curse" the tempest: i, ii

So this is a pretty good quiz; it pegged me pretty darn well.
Take it yourself - it's kind of fun!

What American accent do you have? Your Result: The Northeast   Judging by how you talk you are probably from north Jersey, New York City, Connecticut or Rhode Island. Chances are, if you are from New York City (and not those other places) people would probably be able to tell if they actually heard you speak.
Philadelphia
The Inland North
The Midland
The South
Boston
The West
North Central
What American accent do you have? Take More Quizzes

In other news, today I made my first wedding cake.



Yes, it's very small (two tiers, one 9 inches and the other 6 inches), and there's a couple of dents from when I transported it home, but it's mine, and I was happy with it. And my instructor gave me an "A", which, I hate to say, matters to me. I'm a grade hog. I get pissed if I get below an A or A- in any subject that I feel I should do well in. In other words, it's no problem to me if I skate by in pre-calc or chemistry. But if I get an 89 on a very difficult English test, I get super pissed at myself. I got a 4 on the AP English exam without taking the AP English course, so I took the test again the next year and got a 5 (at the time that was the highest you could get, I don't know if that's still true). I wish I had that kind of stick-to-it-tiveness (that might be my favorite dorky-ass made up word ever) in all walks of life. Ah, well. Life is a work in progress. To celebrate my A, I am going to treat myself to an eggnog latte.

"accept distracted thanks" troilus and cressida: v, ii

It's been an age since I last wrote; it's unacceptable, but in my defense this is one of my busiest times, between work and the trimester at school ending. However. I'm here now, and that's got to count for something.

I try to keep a healthy dose of perspective in my life (I really do), but I usually fail miserably. This time of year is a good time for me to take a few minutes to think about how, in the grand scheme of things, I'm pretty lucky. I won't make a "thanks list" here because my reasons are too personal, and frankly, too hokey, for public viewing, but for the most part it's all the stuff most people are thankful for. Although I'm not what anyone who owns a dictionary would call "religious," I do find that a sort of cosmic thankfulness does me some good when I get to the end of the day.

This year my feelings are a little ... I don't know .... I guess you would say unsettled, because a strange and horrible event happened earlier this week. A person I know, a guy I worked with, a guy I saw last Wednesday, was killed in his apartment on Friday night. The police are investigating it as a homicide; apparently he was stabbed in his own home. This wasn't a guy I knew really well; I happened to know his name because I heard him addressed, and I wouldn't be surprised if he did not know mine .... but it was a guy I saw a few times a week, with whom I always exchanged smiles and a pleasant hello. I won't pretend that I'm emotionally overwrought by this; it would be a lie to say my reaction was emotional when I got the news -- our relationship was very basic and no more than acquaintenceship. But I was disturbed, and, in a distanced way, saddened when I heard the news yesterday morning.

I didn't think about it much yesterday because there was a lot going on around me and in my own work that I needed to focus on, but this afternoon, I heard the managers discussing how his shifts were being covered. One of the managers was the guy who brought him into the job, his friend for the last few years, and it was clear that it was a difficult discussion for him to be having. I started thinking about this guy's family and what this Thanksgiving will be like for them, the seat that their 26-year-old son should have filled sitting empty.

It feels weird and selfish to use someone else's grave misfortune as a lens for my own life, but such is human nature, and I do find this horrible event making me more quick to forgive in my mind, both others and myself; more likely to appreciate small gestures; quicker with a smile for someone having a bad day. For me, the hereafter (if there is one) being uncertain, it seems crazy to put off being nice or taking pleasure in things. Life goes on, yes, work must be done, things will piss me off (this is me we're talking about here) -- but given that anybody, including me, could unwittingly make a fatal choice or fall into a fatal situation beyond one's control, at any time ... well, it's a cliche, but life's too short not to enjoy it. And I do, I feel thankful for the things that I have in my life, and the time that's been alotted to me so far, and the people in my life. I just have to take a few minutes and remember that thankfulness.

"Gives her fame which never dies" much ado about nothing: v, iii

One of these things is not like the other. Can you pick up on it?

From CNN.com's front page.

- Key Virginia race going to the wire
- Democrat projected winner in Ohio governor's race
- Hot button issues in ballot measures | Video
- FBI probes claims of deceptive election phone calls
- Corruption named top issue in exit polls | Video
- The Ticker: Campaign says fliers weren't 'dirty trick'
- Governor's goof delays his vote | Video
- Man accused of smashing voting machine
- Britney Spears files for divorce
- CNN Wire: Latest updates on world's top stories

Because this is Election Day, these are the ONLY headlines appearing on the front page today. And Britney made it up there. Way to go, girl! No other entertainment star is up there today, but you found a way!

"ruffians dance and leap" king richard ii: ii, iv

For whatever reason, this scene was in my head ALL DAY LONG.

Was there anything better than David Bowie in this movie? I kind of wished I was as cool as him when I saw this movie as a kid. These days this movie comes to mind whenever I'm having a bad day or someone is pissing me off. In mind, I just say "You have no power over me!" It's actually remarkably effective. I recommend it.

---
In other news, if you're a local reader of this blog, which, if you are, I am probably related to you, but if you are, just a note that on Thursday at 6pm, author/friend of mine Amy Guth will be reading from her book Three Fallen Women at Symposium Bookstore on Westminister St. You should check it out because it is sure to be a rockin' good time.

And, PS, Adam, it has as of this moment, NOT been 2 weeks since my last post; it has been a mere 12 days. So, mweh.

"like a bold champion, i assume the lists" pericles, prince of tyre: i, i

Wow, I got "tagged" this week by two bloggers! Exciting world I've entered, this blogosphere. I'd best get on it before the "tagging" starts piling up! (I'm going to keep mostly quiet about the fact that "tagging" someone to make lists seems suspiciously similar to sending out an email poll. I'm just glad to be here!)

First, I was tagged by the "lovely and talented" Amy Guth, author of the fantastic new novel Three Fallen Women, and, as it happens, one of my favorite people.

So this is the "book meme" she tagged me on (the quotes are because I'm just learning all this newfangled terminology):
1 ) One book that changed your life: Alice in Wonderland, Lewis Carroll. The book that taught me to love reading.
2) One book that you'd read more than once: The Catcher in the Rye, JD Salinger.
3 ) One book you'd want on a deserted island: The Complete Works of William Shakespeare. There's a lot I’ll never get at in there. But that kind of free time might help.
4) One book that made you laugh: High Fidelity, Nick Hornby
5) One book that made you cry: *sigh* I don't cry much for books, but I did just read a play called Indoor/Outdoor by Kenny Finkle, about a cat and her owner, and I have to confess that I was a little teary at the end.
6) One book you wish you'd written: About a Boy, Nick Hornby. A lot of good characters who are all going somewhere in the story.
7) One book you wish had never been written: The Left Behind series.
8) One book you're currently reading: Moab is my Washpot: An autobiography, Stephen Fry
9) One book you've been meaning to read: Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, Jonathan Safran Foer
10) Tag 5 people: Well, I don't know all that many people out there on the blogosphere, but I guess those I tag without blogs could post responses in my comments section. So I tag Like Pollution's V., Rational Leftist's Adam (maybe he'll finally post something, the lazy PhD-seeking slacker), ummm, let's see, oh, Sarah, Goon Squad Sarah is someone whose posts I always enjoy; I'll tag her too ... and, ok, how 'bout my dad, Rob, and my mom, Jan. Maybe they'll comment on my blog for a change!

Ok, so the other "tag" I got was from the very funny Katie Schwartz, whose blog I am a relative newcomer to, but who I so far find quite entertaining. This meme was a little more open ended so I am just going to go with it:

::five things you don't know about me:: [maybe]

1. I know a lot of keystroke shortcuts for MS Word. Ok, ok, a lot of people know that Control-Z is Undo, and Control-A is Select All, etc. But did you know that Control-] will make selected text increase in font size, and Control-[ will make it decrease? Also, Shift-F3 toggles selected text from lowercase to initial capitalized to all caps. Control-K is the shortcut for the “degrees” symbol. (On a Mac, you would use the Apple key instead of Control.) There's more ... so much more. But I'll move on.

2. I can’t keep myself from reading every comic strip in the comics section of a newspaper, no matter how bad it is. There’s text and pictures on the page, I must read it. So once I start reading, even if it’s just to keep up with Get Fuzzy, I have to stick it out all the way through For Better or for Worse, Family Circus, and, yes, even Marmaduke.

3. I confess that I often prefer a mix tape (or, now, playlist) to listening to a series of albums. I mean, there are some albums that just do better as a whole, and I generally listen to them in their entirety; however, as a general rule, I'm much happier keeping a nice variety going. So sue me.

4. I wore sneakers under my wedding dress. No one was the wiser. And my feet were much happier.

5. I read every advice column I can get my hands on: Miss Manners, Dear Abby, Ask Amy, Savage Love, Tell Me About It, heck, I even read Hints from Heloise if I'm reading a paper that carries it! I don't know why. I'm not looking for advice; heck, I rarely accept advice from people I know and love, let alone some stranger! I guess reading other people's problems and an advice columnist's answers is like my version of a soap opera obsession.

So, anyway, I guess that's all from here. I think I'm supposed to tag people on this one too, so how about V. again, and Adam again, my sister Jenny, and how about Carolyn, too.

"told by an idiot, full of sound and fury" macbeth: v, v

My alma mater is adorable! They think I actually give a crap if they have some kind of emergency that they want to notify me about by email.

I just received in my junk mail inbox the following message:

In our continuing efforts to ensure our ability to provide emergency notifications from the [Nonspecific College] campus when necessary, we are testing our email capability.

Please reply back " Received " in the body of the email . Thank you.

Now, in case the fact that an email from my college went directly into my junk email box hasn't given you a clear picture of things, I'll just go ahead and let you know that I'm not really on speaking terms with the school right now. Don't get me wrong, my education was just fine and dandy and I met some of the greatest people - students, staff, and faculty alike - that I know there. However, the school and I don't speak because I'm not really pleased with the direction the school is headed in (they recently bragged that entering freshmen SAT scores were now averaging something like 1099) ...

So given my unwillingness to talk to these guys for like, you know, normal stuff, why on earth would I reply to a creepy email about emergency notifications? What possible emergencies would I, an alumna now for 7 or so years, need to be aprised of? "Alumni Emergency Alert! We need to know what color balloons you want to have at your reunion! Please reply immediately!" No way.

***

In other news, gas prices being what they are, I took the bus to and from work today, and was delighted to be approached by Nutty O'Nutahan while at the bus stop (if by "delighted" I mean "displeased"). A woman about my age, she marched up to the bus stop where about 6 people were waiting and agressively demanded the time. My mistake was being the person who answered. She parked herself next to me and started gabbing - despite no encouragement from me - about why women and senior citizens are such crappy drivers and described a recent instance where she had been driving and been cut off by an older woman and so she "flipped her the bird" as she said. Much to my relief, the bus arrived at that point and I allowed a couple of people to board between us. Noting where she sat, I moved to the opposite end of the bus and sat down and put my headphones on.

As soon as the bus started moving, this gal stood up, looked around, saw me, and - despite my lack of eye contact - moved back and parked herself next to me again. I ignored her (cause, you know - headphones) as she began to launch into another speech, until she saw that I had headphones in and tugged on my jacket sleeve until I turned to look at her and listen!"There was another incident where I was at an intersection and ...." After that point, it actually wasn't too bad; I simply nodded every couple seconds, not really listening to what she said. At one point I realized she had asked me a question and had to respond, but for the most part, I was able to just tune her out. Even still, her voice wasn't as relaxing as simply putting my head back and listening to music. I guess that's the price you pay for public transportation. Plus, you know ... the fare.

"know'st me not by my clothes?" cymbeline: iv, ii

Boy, I sure do love music. All kinds. I wish I could say I was a snob about it, but I'm not, not really. Which isn't to say I'll listen to anything, but there is a wide variety of music I'll listen to with gusto. I really do have a soundtrack in my head all the time. I can remember two Halloweens when I was growing up, I tried to rig up a way to actually have a soundtrack to accompany my stellar costumes. One year, I was "the Sugar Plum Fairy" -- not just any fairy, I was the Sugar Plum Fairy (mind you, I held on to this idea from the previous December when I saw The Nutcracker ballet for the first time). I was nervous that people wouldn't know, specifically, that I was the Sugar Plum Fairy based on my purple leotard, tutu, foil-covered wings, and beautiful makeup (the only time I got to wear lipstick at age 7) and wanted to carry the music with me to sort of clue people in. So I spent an afternoon with my Fisher Price tape recorder, sitting next to the stereo speakers in our living room playing the music from the Nutcracker record we had (this was early October, much to my mother's delight), and trying to record the music by holding the recorder up to the speaker. Trouble was, I'd get halfway through recording the darn thing, and someone would walk in and say something, or make a noise, or I'd drop the recorder, etc. Finally I got through one recording that had maybe only one interruption -- I'd have to just quickly make my appearance and skip away before anyone heard it, I reasoned -- and it was time for dinner so I called it a day, hoping for the best.

On Halloween night, in the excitement of putting on my costume, arguing about sweatshirt-wearing with Mom, getting my glow stick and jack-o-lantern treat pail all together, I forgot the damn tape player!! I didn't realize it until we approached the first house, and by then it was too late. We rang the bell, and the kindly older woman who answered the door oohh'ed at the sight of us in our glory, me as the Sugar Plum Fairy and my sister as ... I'm not sure, but I think she was an alien with a sparkly Star Trek-like outfit that might even have had lights on it. "Ooooh!" the woman cooed. "What do we have here? An astronaut! Annnd, let's see .... a ballerina!"

A ballerina!!! Oh, god, she totally missed it!! Without my music I was doomed to the anonymous, unoriginal role of Ballerina, no doubt one of hundreds who would pirrouette their way up these porch steps!! Crestfallen, I blurted out "NO! I'm the Sugar Plum Fairy!!!!!" The woman smiled condescendingly and said, "Happy Halloween, dear," as she dropped a pencil and a penny into each of our treat pails. Double whammy: incorrect costume identification, non-candy treat. Boo.

The very next year I was convinced that I would not be undone in the same fashion. Without my imagined cinematic entrance complete with the very important musical cues that would let people know exactly who I was, I was doomed to nondescriptness; I might as well just buy a costume at the store!

With the new year I had discovered the rock and roll music. In fact, when asked what I wanted to be when I grew up in a school assigment, I put down that I wanted to be either a "doctor for horses" (I knew what a vet was but associated them with cats and dogs and wanted to specify my [kind of snotty, I see now] association with horses, which came from the fact that my dad played arena polo) or a "punk rocker" (I wish I was making my third grade terminology up). Please understand, however, that my idea of punk was about as close to the Clash as Justin Timberlake. My understanding of, ahem, punk rockers was that they wore mis-matched clothing -- sometimes with rips in them! -- had a lot of earrings, all the way up the ear, and, most interestingly to me, multicolored hair. In other words, uh .... er ....

Ok. It was Cyndi Lauper (I spelled it Cindy Lopper). Yeah, not exactly ... you know ... Sid Vicious level punk rock.

So, that was my planned costume. This year, I had it even better, because at (again) the previous Christmas, my uncle (who had been, in his day, a, uh, "punk rocker" himself) had recorded a copy of "She's So Unusual" for me, so I already had my top-notch recording of the song "Girls Just Want to Have Fun." Now, all I needed was that awesome criss-cross haircut that she sported in the "Time After Time" video, dyed bright red!! Well, Mom nixed the cut, but did buy me some red spray-on color. Then, with my "punk rock" outfit (red boat-neck sweatshirt off one shoulder, red skirt, turquoise tights (no rips), red legwarmers), some "crazy" makeup thanks to Mom, I was ready. Oh, wait, one other thing. I decided Cindy Lopper had a pet, who was also punk rock, so I took my Koosa and dressed it up in a similar outfit, and pierced its ear, and drew makeup on the doll with magic markers. Now I was ready. This outfit, pet, red hair, and music would be sure to leave no doubt in any viewer's mind who I was. I was a veritable dead ringer, as surely Cindy Lopper arrived anywhere she went with her punk rock pet and her own music being blasted by one of her lackeys.

The problem that I didn't foresee was my mother's unwillingness to tote my tape player around. Weirdly enough, between the jackets she would be carrying for both me and my sister, the flashlight, and no doubt my Koosa as I got tired of carrying it, she didn't want the extra baggage. Huh, weird - she didn't want to be my stage manager. Go figure. Well, I didn't want to ruin the effect by carrying it around myself (not very punk rock to carry a Fisher Price tape player, even I knew that), and it was getting late -- soon all the good loot would be gone. And I didn't want to throw a fit, lest I be sent to bed with no trick or treating at all. So I surrendered the soundtrack for the second year, against my better judgement.

And at the first door, the kindly older man looked down and said "Oh! What do we have here now? Ahhh, a cheerleader!! Very nice." And dropped a penny into my treat pail. Double, double whammy.

"sweet sister" measure for measure: iii, i

It's my younger sister's birthday today, and in honor of that, I'd like to share this Top 10 List of Why My Sister is the Best:

10. She has a stunning sense of fashion.
9. She has the kind of willpower and self-discipline it takes to begin a homework assigment when it is assigned, not the day before it is due (unlike certain writers of this blog who I might know ... or, er, be).
8. She's good at learning languages.
7. Growing up, she had the good sense to request pumpkin pie for breakfast on her birthday, which meant that I got to have pumpkin pie on her birthday too!
6. She forgives me for not calling her as often as I think of her (well, she says she does, anyway).
5. She can ascertain (correctly!) from a crappy cell phone photo whether a pair of shoes will go with a dress that has only been described to her.
4. She put up with all my hairbrained ideas when we were growing up.
3. She makes a mean spaghetti sauce.
2. She's funny as hell.
1. She's got a heart as big as the Moon.

Happy birthday, Skeet!

"thou hadst little wit in thy bald crown" king lear: i, iv

Separated at birth?


You probably recognize the gent on the right as Yul Brenner. On the left, however, you may be scratching your head.

Let me help you out.



Ok ok ok! It's an inexplicably head-shaved Joey Lawrence.


He's appearing on Dancing With The Stars, apparently. I know this only because I was trying to figure out why on earth I kept seeing that Daddy Warbucks-like picture of him everywhere. Now I know. But I don't know why he would choose this look, and it troubles me.

No answers on Wikipedia's entry on him; although, according to them, apparently I am supposed to call him "Joseph" now. I'm not sure he gets it -- if you're a child actor who's grown up, you will be your child actor persona for the rest of your life. Sorry. Even I use the names "Little Opie" and "The Beave" to refer to the actors who played those two characters, despite the fact that I wasn't even born yet when their shows were on tv.

I think my favorite thing on the Wikipedia entry for Joey Lawrence is this line: ..."he played the character Joey Russo, a dim-witted young man who frequently uttered the phrase 'Whoa.'" I don't think this gives the full impact of how utterly dumb that catchphrase, if one can even call it that, was. I worry that future generations won't get it.

"fortune's cat" all's well that ends well: v, ii

So I'm catching up on my world news a little, reading some of Ye Olde BBC Worlde Newes, which I do from time to time to see how those in other parts of the world view us, and I stumbled upong this: US Hypoallergenic Cats Go on Sale. A snippet:

US biotech firm Allerca says it has managed to selectively breed [the world's first specially-bred hypoallergenic cats ] by reducing a certain type of protein that triggers allergic reactions.

The cats will not cause the red eyes, sneezing and even asthma that some cat allergy sufferers experience, except in the most acute cases.

Despite costing $3,950 (£2,104), there is already a waiting list to get one.

So, let me get this straight. They can't make a saran wrap that actually sticks to any kind of container's lip or that doesn't unwind from its cardboard tube without unravelling unevenly and ripping, but they can selectively breed a cat that won't make someone's allergies flare up? So, they're saying that they can't, say, oh, I don't know ... find a cure for cancer (just brainstorming here), but they can make specially formulated cats?

I'm not the only one who finds this to be an astonishing misuse of funds, right?

And please, tell me I'm not the only one to be astounded that there is an actual waiting list of people ready to pay more than the in-state admission costs for some state schools for one of these cats?

Not to mention the whole can of worms this opens up. Just think: in as little as 15 years from now, they could have "selectively bred" a whole army of super cats, cats whose genes predispose them to attacking humans, pillaging PetCos, and ultimately conquering humans and subjecting us to an all Yarn-Based entertainment industry. The Horror! I mean, I'm a cat person and all, but, people -- where does the madness end?!

"a most notorious pirate" measure for measure: iv, iii

Many thanks to Adam, who pointed out in his blog yesterday that today is National Talk Like a Pirate Day. I actually saw a dude walking down the street today dressed in full pirate gear. It was pretty awesome.

In honor of this fake holiday, here is my favorite pirate joke. (It's, uh, also the only pirate joke I know.)


A guy on vacation in the Carribbean walks into a bar. Sitting at the back corner of the bar is what appears to be a real, honest to goodness pirate - he's got it all: parrot on the shoulder, hat, eye patch, peg leg, hook for a hand, the works. The man approaches the pirate.

"Excuse me, sir," he says. "Are you really a pirate?"

"Aye, that I be," replies the pirate.

"Wow!" the man says. "You must have had such an interesting life and seen so many things! Do you .... do you mind if I ask you how you got the peg leg?"

"Yargh," the pirate says. "That was indeed a terrible day. A rival pirate gang captured me and made me walk the plank. A huge shark grab hold of me leg and was going to drag me down into Davy Jones' Locker, but I managed to escape with only the loss of me leg."

"Wow!" the man says. "And how about the hook -- how did you lose your hand?"

"Aye, that be a terrible day as well. I was on the banks of the Nile, digging up a chest of treasure. I had a precious gem in my hand when a great big crocodile, attracted by the gem's glittering, lunged out of the water and chomped down on me arm, taking the gem and me hand back into the Deep with him."

"Holy crap!" exclaims the man. "What about your eye? How did you lose that?"

"Yarrrrr! That be the worst of them all, ye scaliwag!" the pirate exclaims. "I was lying out on the deck on a clear autumn night, looking up at the stars as we made our way to safe port, when all of a sudden ... a seagull flew over and shit in me eye!!"

"A seagull shit in your eye?" says the man. "Well that doesn't sound so bad; how did you lose the eye from that?"

"Yaaarrr! It was the first day with me hook!"

"i will resist such entertainment" the tempest: i, ii

I try not to be too high and mighty about this, but I've given up television. We don't have one at our house, and I rarely watch it anywhere else. Yes, I will watch it if it's on at someone else's house or if I'm housesitting or something. But my life no longer revolves around shows. At first it was a little strange, but I've gotten to the point now where I rarely miss it. Once in a while I'm bummed if I'm missing a Pats game, but I have class all day Sundays anyway now, so at this point I really don't miss it. All in all, getting rid of tv has freed me up not just in the sense that I'm not sitting in front of the tube, tied to a schedule there, but also in the sense that I have a lot more brainpower to devote to other things now (such, in my case, as they are).

I found this article disconcerting: TV for the Time-Pressed. Basically it's "if you only watch one show per night, these are the ones to hit." Again, I don't want to come off like I'm on a high horse, even though I know it probably will, but it just seems sad to me, the idea that even if you're time-pressed, one might feel as though at least a show must be watched. I mean, if you're short on time, wouldn't watching tv be a good thing to discard from the schedule? You could instead take a little "me-time," to think, or read, or just be, without stuff being fed into your brain. Maybe my attitude about this is similar to a phenomenon some former smokers have mentioned to me, where, after they quit smoking and were out of the first couple weeks, they got to a point where watching anyone else smoking made them mad. Anyway, I'm not trying to convert anyone, not really ... but I will say that I feel my mind working much more clearly now than it did when I was at my peak of tv-watching hours.

On another note, here's a little interchange I witnessed yesterday. I was boarding a bus from my school's campus that was heading downtown. There was a large group of undergrads all around me, waiting for their buses as well. As I was boarding, a young woman leaned up the stairs behind me and addressed the crotchety old angry bus driver:

Woman: (somewhat confrontationally) Does this go down to the Hospitality Campus?
Driver: (short-temperedly) What does the sign up there say? Huh?
Woman: (scornfully) Pssh! I don't know, I guess I can't read.
Driver: (with equal contempt) You're real smart, guess that's why you got to college.
Woman: (back turned, leaving) Pssshh!

and ... scene

"what revels are in hand?" a midsummer night's dream: v; i

*Sigh* It's never a good thing when I start yelling back at the radio on my way home from work. I won't get too much into what it was that made me yell at the innocent NPR reporter who was simply delivering the news that I found so abhorent -- in fact, insert your own yell-inducing topic if you like. But it got to the point where I was actually yelling - not in my head, but out loud, directing my gaze at the radio as if it could hear me and might heed my anger, changing the news it was telling me. Some people call it passion, others call it fucking bonkers. When I realized what I was doing, it felt like the latter. So I turned the channel and settled into the thrall of pre-programmed Corporate Radio, those fucking bastards. Oh, right, I forgot; I Have Opinions on that, too. I'm glad my work week is over; put it that way.

The upside of today was that there was a big crate of pumpkins outside the store today, which means it is almost time for my favorite holiday; you guessed it, Arbor Day.

Haha, no, no, of course I'm just kidding; everyone knows Arbor Day is in April. Of course I'm talking about Halloween. I. Love. Halloween. Sadly last year I did not get to "do" anything for Halloween because of work, but even on the years when I don't get to do anything, I still love it. I love the feeling of fall at that time, I like the first few weeks after we change the clocks and it gets dark early (I get tired of that pretty quick though). I like the feeling of Halloween being one of the last nights of outdoor revelry before we all hunker down into our homes for the winter. I'm a dork. I know it.

More than anything, though, I love the stuff that has to do with Halloween itself - the pumpkins on all the stoops, which, a day or two before the holiday, sprout glowing faces; the scarecrows in the yards, those all-out folks who build a whole horror story in their yards, and the costumes. Oh, the costumes!! I'll tell you something about my childhood - my birthday is at the end of August. With no real holidays between my birthday and Halloween, I would often spend the whole of September and October dreaming about, brainstorming for, and building my costume for Halloween. I never had anything super spectacular, but it was always well thought out and, well, my parents always said my costumes were neat. It was doing the work that was fun. Sometimes I would finish my costume well before Halloween and I would get bummed out, having to look at it wasting away in the corner of my bedroom, waiting for that one glorious night when it would get to shine!! And then it would all be over too quickly, one fleeting night, sometimes even so cold that the costume was obscured by the sweatshirt my mom would make me wear. Actually, after a while, I started thinking of costumes that would work well with a sweatshirt.

Recently, the most fun I had for Halloween was when my husband, one of our dear friends, and I decided to hit the town as the I-Don't-Care Bears. Instead of the warm and fuzzy Care Bears, with character names such as Cheer Bear, Friend Bear, Wish Bear, or Do Your Best Bear, we were their ne'er-do-well cousins: Boozy Bear (my husband), Druggie Bear (our friend), and Special Bear (me). Boozy Bear was all black, with a belly emblem of a variety of alcoholic beverages, realistically rendered with eye-popping detail on the martini's olive spear and the beer's foam. Druggie Bear was in all purple, with a belly including a syringe and a lifelike bag of a suspicious crystaline substance. As Special Bear, I was dressed in all yellow, and on my belly was a short school bus. The topper on my costume was the helmet I wore, with stickers on it proclaiming that "God made me special." No doubt I, if not the three of us collectively, are going to hell for that one.

Halloween: Best. Day. of. the. Year.

"i see a woman may be made a fool" the taming of the shrew; iii, ii

This is great; from MSNBC.com:

Call it Paris in Blunderland.

Richard Branson threw a lavish Mad Hatter-themed 21st birthday party for his son Sam at his Oxfordshire estate on Saturday, and invited Paris Hilton to attend.

The partying heiress agreed and wanted a starring role in the party dressed as Alice, according to reports.

When Branson found out, he ordered the 60 waitresses who would be serving at the party to also dress as Alice, according to the London Daily Mail, which says he pushed the prank further by pretending to mistake Paris for a waitress and ordering a drink from her.

The bash was attended by the U.K.’s A-list, with such guests as Princes William and Harry, Kate Moss, and Princesses Beatrice and Eugenie. “It was one hell of a party,” a source told the Mirror. “Paris found herself looking more like Tweedledum as she was surrounded by dozens of other Alices.”

But perhaps the prank’s on Branson. Hilton’s rep tells The Scoop that “to the best of my knowledge” the heiress wasn’t even at the party.

I sincerely doubt Paris Hilton has even read Alice in Wonderland, so that to me makes her desire to be the star of the show dressed as Alice that much funnier. Seriously, who is Paris Hilton that she thinks she ought to be the star of this party, being thrown for someone else's birthday? I love the fact that Branson, rather than simply saying, hey, that's not appropriate, took the wind out of her sails in such a big way.

As for the last paragraph in the piece? I simply choose to ignore it, for my own guilty gratification. Hmph.

"it is my father's music" the winter's tale; iv, iv

So tonight I went down to a local tavern called Bovi's and listened to their regular Monday night act, a jazz band called the John Allmark Orchestra. These guys really know what they're doing. My father knows pretty much everything there is to know about jazz -- he grew up in NYC, going to clubs to hear Miles, Coltrane, Charlie Parker, and all the rest when they were in their prime -- and he seems to think trumpet player John Allmark and his band are the bees knees, at least in terms of local music, but even just generally. Tonight, Allmark took a solo and my dad leaned over to me and said, "He was just born to do this."

The band finished up their set with a version of "West End Blues" by Louis Armstrong; they did it in a somewhat more modern blues style than the recording at the above link ... and anyway, hearing that style of music, for some reason, one of my favorite scenes in a crappy movie popped into my head.

The scene is from Adventures in Babysitting. Chris has followed her asshole boyfriend into a blues bar (this being Chicago and all), and when she's ready to leave she finds herself trapped, confronted with an agressive band, whose leader insists that "nobody leaves this place without singing the blues". AND SO SHE DOES! At first everything she says to try to explain her way out of it is agressively punctuated by the band with the classic blues riff "da-DAH-da-da-dah!" - but have no fear, she gets into it quite quickly - she does after all, have quite a lot to sing the blues about.

THEY JUST DON'T MAKE MOVIES LIKE THIS ANYMORE! I'm sorry, you would never see this happen in a movie today. Not even close. The only teen movie I can think of that even approaches this kind of lighthearted goofiness is maybe "10 Things I Hate About You," with its funny little scene where Heath Ledger sings "Can't Take My Eyes Off of You" over the school stadium PA. But that's SO NOT EVEN CLOSE.

Of course, some people would say that it's a good thing that they don't make movies like this anymore.

But not me! I love how absurd they are! I know they're not Good Movies. But they were made with such earnestness that I find them impossible not to love.

I know almost all my posts so far have referenced some dumbass bit of 80s pop culture, and if that irritates any of the 3 readers of this blog, well, too bad. This is the culture that shaped me, for better or worse! And I look on it fondly.

Oh, one other thing I feel I have to mention: there is an enigmatic listing on IMDB when you search for "Adventures in Babysitting" - it has the 1987 movie I referenced earlier, and a TV pilot version that came out shortly after that, but then it says "Adventures in Babysitting (2008)." When you click on it, it says that info is only available to members of IMDBpro. But all I can assume is that Hollywood has yet again shown itself unable to come up with new ideas and is about to remake this movie! Can you even imagine how they will update this movie? It will be horrible!!! Part of what made the movie great was that it came from a time when you could still believe that a group of kids from the suburbs would be awestruck by The City and all the dark dirtiness that lives and thrives there. Nowadays, cities are all Disneyfied anyway; there's nothing to be scared of. Just pop into the nearest Johnny Rockets if you're lost in a city and the waiters will serenade you with "YMCA" until your mom can come pick you up. I don't smell boxoffice sucess with this one, but I saw "Snakes on a Plane" at the 10pm pre-opening show. So what do I know.

"marvellous sweet music!" the tempest: iii, iii

I'm not going to be shy about admitting that I am a child of the 80s. I was born in the late 70s and my predominant childhood memories are all in the 80s. Since I wasn't a teenager in the 80s, my perception of being a teenager in the 80s was shaped by the movies and music and television that was all around me. My babysitters all watched MTV - yes, we were able to be transfixed even though "all they did" was play music videos. By the time the 90s had rolled around, I was already well into the world-weary preteen years, already looking back at what I thought was my wasted childhood and my inability to return to those halcyon days. The 80s were a simpler time, a time when technology still seemed to hold the keys to the future, when we could still say "cool!" when we saw a computer in someone's house, but it was the turning point, too, a time when somehow there was a balance between naive wonder at the world before us as well as a new understanding of the problems of our world, and how we as a generation would have to face them, and use the new tools at our disposal to try and make the world a better place. Even though every generation says this, it was a unique time that shaped my view of the world today.

(Oh, a side note before I continue. To the very sweet, very friendly, very young people that I seem to encounter a lot lately as the new school year gets in full swing: You are adorable. You are fresh-faced and naive, and your determination and upbeat attitude is refreshing to me. My only advice to you in dealing with folks of "my generation" -- who, let's face it, are really only about 8 to 12 years older than you -- is this. If you're going to ask my age, that's fine, I will answer gladly; I'm not one of those women who won't reveal her age. But when I reply gamely "Twenty-nine," try to avoid widening your eyes and saying "Wow!" It tends to be off-putting. And the half-hearted follow up of "you don't look twenty-nine" barely covers things. Just letting you know.)

Well, back to my original point. I'm a child of the 80s, and my perception of life has been shaped by that fact. So, it is with a little trepidation and a fair amount of embarrassment that I admit the following fact about myself: I often think in music montages. That's right, you know those scenes popularized in the teen flicks of the 80s where, to get the point across of some kind of dynamic action taking place over the course of time, the only sound is a catchy song with lyrics that barely tie into the plot and the scenes show the progression of action happening quickly so we can get to the happy denoument. Well. Sometimes - ok, a lot of times, and it happens even more now that I have an iPod - I'll be doing a very normal, everyday thing, such as laundry, and I'll imagine it all going down as a musical montage. As I pull up to the laundromat, the opening riff of Adam Ant's "Goody Two Shoes" will play in my head, and every mundane action as I do my wash will appear in my head as a cut shot in a montage set to that song. It's .... well, let's face it, it's a little pathetic.

The culprit for this disorder is one of two movies:

The Breakfast Club, "We Are Not Alone" (Karla DeVito). This one was key because it was about teens and high school, and I was very influenced by anything I thought older kids were doing. At first glance, this scene doesn't seem quite so much a montage as it is just a crappy dance scene, but it skyrockets into montage range when they do the cuts of different characters dancing on the railing. Highlights include Judd Nelson dry humping the sculpture, Molly Ringwald showing off her super-cool princess outfit as she dances on the landing, and Emilio Estevez playing air guitar in all his stonewashed-jean glory. These kids didn't have much in common, but crappy pseudo-rock brought them to new levels of understanding.

The Karate Kid, "You're the Best" (Joe Esposito). Possibly the gold standard by which all movie music montages must be judged. It has a lot going for it, from the clenched fist of approval from the Cobra Kai Sensai, to the twitchy-classic-jock-neck-cracking performed by the bleach blond Cobra Kai lackey before he enters the ring with Daniel-san, to Mr. Miyagi's passive onlooking, joined by a chipper Elizabeth Shue. What makes this montage so spectacular is that they show the match officials moving Daniel-san's name placard up and up on the tournament standings chart, to indicate him moving effortlessly through to the championships. Most important, they chose a song that really kicks it into the next level through the use of switching between major and minor keys, really building up the tension and getting you ready for the all-time classic Sweep-the-Leg Moment ("Put him in a body bag, yeah!") that follows shortly after. You can't beat this top-notch montage.

In any case, this problem is one I'm going to have to live with. So, fresh-faced youngsters, if you catch me bopping my head and singing to myself as I carry out an everyday task, just chalk it up to the fact that in my head, I'm living it up in the old days. Just try not to say "Wow."

"a bountiful answer that fits all questions" all's well that ends well: ii; ii

I'm fascinated today by the idea of internet quizzes. I saw one today on someone's myspace page that was "which zodiac fairy are you?" and I couldn't resist, so I went ahead and took it. The questions were "1. When does your birthday fall (most important)" and gave a list of the normal divisions of months associated with the zodiac we know. "2. What is your favorite planet or formation??" (the two question marks are as they appeared in the quiz) and "3. What is your favorite color?", giving a list of absurd colors, none of which really fit the bill for me. So I answered as well as I could and was given a zodiac fairy that doesn't match up with my actual sign and didn't really match up with my character traits either. I reanswered several times and finally came up with a list of traits that fit me, which also happened to be my zodiac sign as well. Huh. Of course, the questions were not answered correctly for me at that point, but I got the result that seemed right, so I guess it all worked out in the end. Maybe I was learning something about the way I answered the questions in the first place!

So it got me wondering about these internet quizzes. Am I missing something about myself? Maybe there are sides of me that I don't see clearly, sides that only a quiz written by someone ten years my junior with some basic knowledge of the internet can reveal to me! So I started poking around to see what I could learn about myself.

My Geek Profile states that my highest Geek Level is in Music, followed by Movies, with smaller Geek Level showings in the areas of Academics, Fashion, and being a Gamer, and I have no Geek Levels in the areas of General Geekiness and SciFi. Not too much new there, although I would have thought a lifetime of watching Star Trek and TNG would have gotten me something for SciFi. Shows how much I know.

Could I pass 8th Grade History? Well, yes, I could, which makes sense, because I did. Although I am embarrassed to admit I missed a question (they don't tell you which one though!)

What kind of coffee am I? According to this quiz, I am iced coffee. "At your best, you are: hyper, modern, and athletic. At your worst, you are: cheap and angsty. You drink coffee when: you're out with friends. Your caffeine addiction level: medium." Hmmm. This is interesting. I never knew I was cheap and angsty. Heck, I didn't even really know there was such a word, but this internet quiz has proven otherwise. "Hyper, modern, athletic;" I kind of sound like a hybrid car, don't I? It's also good that this quiz told me when I drink coffee, because I hadn't noticed.

What's my Hidden Talent? Now this one sounded promising, and it delivered! All I had to do was click on the picture that appealed to me most, and presto! it told me what my hidden talent is!! "Your natural talent is interpersonal relations and dealing with people. You communicate well and are able to bring disparate groups together. Your calming presence helps everything go more smoothly. People crave your praise and complements." Now I know! Maybe I should try to get a position at the UN or something! Thanks, internet quiz!

Finally, in starting up this new blog, I thought I should find out What Kind of Blogger I am. And - readers beware - apparently I am a "Snarky Blogger," which means that I've "got a razor sharp wit that bloggers are secretly scared of. And that's why they read [my] posts as often as they can!" So things are off to a good start for me! I'll try not to disappoint, Dear Reader.

"but what care i for words?" as you like it: iii; v

I say I'm a recovering English major in my profile, but it's not entirely accurate. More correct would be to say that I'm an English major who's found her calling not to be in reading and writing English, but who still harbors a crush on it as a hobby. I get a kick out of the written word; it's pretty astonishing to think how language has developed and evolved and devolved. I try to be observant of language patterns in our changing culture, and so I read a lot of different, and in some cases, crappy, literature and media. Along the way, I often pick up amusing anecdotes that have not so much to do with language, but more about how absurd life can be.

Like this.

If, like our president, you're not what we call a "reader", here's the Reader's Digest: A British biographer named A.N. Wilson wrote a biography of the British poet John Betjeman, who had, apparently, stated late in his life that he wished he had had more sex. He was married and it was assumed his sex life was dull. Well, the biographer received a letter that supposedly revealed an extramarital affair between Betjeman and another writer; it was apparently a love letter from him, and Wilson printed the letter in the biography saying there had been this affair. Ok, here's the thing: it was a hoax. The letter was a fake, and not only that, but encoded in one section of the letter, using the first letter of each word, was the sentence "A.N. Wilson is a shit." Nice!!!! But ok, here's the other thing: the letter came from an unknown correspondent using a French return address, but the letter was postmarked in London.

Now, I'm not a fancy-schmancy biographer or anything, so maybe I'm overthinking things, but it seems to me that before actually publishing a letter received from an unknown person in a book about someone else, one might take care to research the contents of that letter, and perhaps check other sources to corroborate, or, at the very least, cast some degree of authenticity on the whole matter.

What's worst about the whole thing, for this dumb-ass biographer, is that it seems that he was informed of the hoax by the Sunday London Times, who pointed out the nasty encoded message to him, and he was left lamely saying "I should have smelled a rat." Smelled a rat? No, good sir, it is not that you should have smelled a rat, it is that you should have simply done your job.

* * *

Well, I am trying to finish up a book about Shakespeare, so I'll close for now. Shakespeare: now there's a guy who liked to play with words. If he didn't find a word he liked for what he was trying to express, he just made one up! And a lot of them stuck! To name a few: impartial, jaded, gloomy, premeditated, frugal, and zany. I find that to be ... well .... transtounding.