Popes!

Last night I had this crazy dream. I know you don't want to hear all the details, so I'll summarize. Note to Catholics: yes, this is probably a heretical dream. Except I'm not a Catholic, so I don't think it counts. Also, it's a dream. It probably means I was reading too many Pope-related comics before bed. (That is actually what I was doing before bed last night.)

Essentially I was staying with my good friend (who I haven't seen in like three years, but I'm sure she's still fantastic) Gretta and her parents (who weren't her parents; you know how dreams are) and they told me the Pope was in town and he was going to stay with them, so we all needed to wear appropriate humorous t-shirts (they were yellow). The Pope came to the house and was amused by our shirts. Gretta's dad (who may have actually been J. K. Simmons) took him to the garage to see his workshop. And the Pope died. Of old age! He just keeled over! But this did not surprise me because I've had this dream before. So I said to Gretta, "I've had this dream before. The Devil is coming. You have to get the Pope's miter and scepter out of his car." (The car was not the Popemobile, but like a big old '80s Lincoln.) She ran out and got them. I told her that she had to make herself the Pope so that we could defeat The Devil. "But how?" She asked. I said, "You'll make all of us Popes, and then we can take him from all sides." She said, "No, how do I make myself the Pope?" But it was too late: The Devil had arrived, and he was in Colin Farrel's body. That and a souped up old muscle car, like a Camaro or something. As Farrel (AKA The Devil) came up the front walk, it was like the intro to Mind Freak or something: his long hair all blowing in the wind, his silk shirt unbuttoned and billowing out behind him, his leather pants magically not making any weird leather noises as he walked. Then there was running around. Finally I remembered why Gretta had to make us all Popes: we had to bless the water and then throw it on him. (The Devil is like a cat, you see. Or maybe just Colin Farrel.) But it was too late and also we were bored and Gretta seemed tired (I mean, a gold miter and scepter must be heavy). So Colin Farrel just stalked around the house in his perpetual windstorm and I got a ride from Gretta's brother, Baird, to get some submarine sandwiches. (He was driving some kind of '60s Mustang with the top down. Why were there so many specific cars in my dream?) But I was still wearing my yellow t-shirt and that bothered me more than The Devil stalking around my friend's house.

Your guess is as good as mine as to what any of that means. But as Jung argued, you are everyone in your dream. So I am the Pope and The Devil? Huh. Maybe I just want to wear some leather pants but feel uncomfortable admitting it.

Live Blogging: The American Gladiators Experience

7:58pm - Pete and I have decided that we have to see the reborn American Gladiators to believe it. Or at least Pete has decided this, so I'm going to live blog.

8pm - The Hulkster just asked, "Where are my Gladiator Maniacs?" Um, I think you mean "hulkamaniacs."

8:01 - "And a tomboy goes against a lawyer..." Yes, truly it is the fight of the century.

8:02 - Wait, does the winner become a gladiator? During the Gladiator Roll Call, Pete just said, "Fury is a dude." That may well be true.

8:03 - First challenger - a 25-year old dude - is already crying over his mom dying of cancer. Can we have a game show these days without a back story?

8:04 - Pete says, "This is so close to Running Man." Except none of these douche bags dies. That'd be the main difference.

8:05 - "Big hit for Justice, the battle gladiator." Aren't all of them battle gladiators?
- I think the Hulkster and the first competitor were going to make out.

8:06 - The second competitor's back story involves children. Um, also, these guys are clearly actors. And isn't the scripting of this a violation of the writer's strike?

8:08 - The hulk only has one response to the competitors- "Unbelievable dude, unbelievable brother."
- Sob story... oh, I'm sorry, "back story" number 3: a Chinese tom boy whose father wanted a son and who's been petitioning to bring back American Gladiators since 2005. She clearly thinks she is the cutest thing since Teddy Ruxbin.

8:10 - Now Chinese Tom Boy is calling the Hulkster "brother."
- Competitor 4: A lawyer who is also a lady football player. She did not petition to bring the show back. I doubt her dedication and conviction.

8:12 - Chinese Tom Boy made it much higher up the rock-climbing wall because she weighs next to nothing. The gladiator is grabbing her around the waist to pull her off the wall. It's making a hilarious humping motion that I'm sure will end up on You-Tube to some '70s porn, wah-pedal heavy music.

8:13 - The Gladiator "Wolf" is pretty, um, awesome? He's got a little of The Nuge in him. And also golden locks that would make the three bears crave porridge.

8:16 - The Norse God Thor. That's what Wolf is going for. But Zaphod Beeblebrox from the movie of Hitchhiker's Guide is kind of what he achieved. They're on a pyramid of gym mats. Oh, about Gladiator Justice earlier, they said, "It's Hammer Time!" just in case you forgot that this dates to the early '90s.

8:18 - They're all wearing these neck braces that look like they're meant to pop your head off rather than protect you.

8:20 - Evidently kicking isn't allowed, but stepping on somone's head is. Semantics!

8:21 - I think Chinese Tom Boy and Gladiator Crush had a moment there. At the end they were mumbling through their mouth guards at each other and hugging. This is a weird show. I can't tell if it's intentionally homoerotic or if it's accidental.
- Militia ("Army of One") appears to have a bowling ball in his cup.

8:23 - "Son, you've gotta hulk it up, brother!" Cause the competitor's name is Son.

Wow, this is really long already. I say to Pete, "I hope this gets boringer soon." He says, "Well too bad, 'cause it's a non-stop thrill ride."

8:28 - Son is not very good at this.

8:30 - Oh, so much for semantics! Football Lawyer just got her points back for Gladiator Crush's illegal move.

8:31 - Wow, nice product placement, Nerf.

8:32 - I swear Chinese Tomboy got hit using the first weapon. Then she had to fire a crossbow but she didn't make it. I didn't remember there being a Nerf Crossbow.

8:33 - "I tried to shake and bake it, but it wasn't enough. Not enough shaking, I guess." Hrm, yes, that's what happened there.

8:35 - There is a commercial for Lipstick Jungle on. This looks like the worst, most anti-woman show since that Grey's Anatomy spinoff. "They're women, in a city, and they have sex sometimes," is Pete's analysis.

8:36 - I think Wolf just smelled Competitor 1's hair. Holy crap, he is hell of fast climbing that wall. The gladiators are acting like they won't get fed because they didn't catch these guys.

8:37 - Competitor 1's family gave the Hulkster goosebumps.

8:38 - There is a guy with a megaphone that says "GO CK" because those are Chinese Tom Boy's initials, but it totally looks like it said "GO FUCK" and was censored. Chinese Tom Boy just screamed something about the Gladiation, as in like Gladiator + Nation. Not the best portmanteau I've ever seen.

8:40 - You cannot look graceful on this show. I think Chinese Tom Boy thinks she's a boxer. She can't talk without bobbing and weaving. Of course Football Lawyer can't say a word without mentioning football some how.

Oh my God, how many commercials can there be? The answer: at least one more. Also, KGW thinks it's the #1 TV website or something. I guess other people aren't that bothered by their desire for your age, sex and zipcode every damn time you log on.

8:45 - Football Lawyer is not as good at this dodging-medicine-balls-on-a-plastic-bridge game as Chinese Tom Boy. I'm sure there's some joke there, somewhere.

8:47 - I think Competitor 1's cup is nobby. The lighting keeps highlighting it. Also, Competitor 2, Son, is not very good at this.

8:48 - Ha! Proof that they're actors! The ref just called Competitor 1 ("Evan") "Chad" and he nodded. Haha!

8:49 - Hey, they stole all these obstacles from Ninja Warrior!

8:50 - How you can celebrate "the fastest time ever" in a show this new?
- Pete just said, "Nagano could take all these guys." Yes, but so could Mr. Ninja Warrior, the guy who competes on that show in a diaper and never makes it past round 1. [Correction: Mr. Ninja Warrior isn't the diaper guy, but he did compete in short-shorts once.]

They made a new Rambo movie. I... But... It's... Just, why? Why was this necessary?

Oh my God, there's a new Guinness World Record's show and it has someone undoing bra straps. That is the most American thing I've ever heard of!

8:55 - Football Lawyer is a whiner. Chinese Tom Boy is over-confident. Whose obnoxious idiosyncrasy will reign supreme?
"Are the containers ready?" The ref is having some issues.

8:57 - There's no real penalty for not completing these events. Also, they both suck at this. If "Chad" could do it in 1:30...

8:58 - To the Hulkster, everything is "unbelievable!" He must be the biggest nihilist ever: he doesn't even believe in things he's seen with his own eyes.

8:59 - Ooh, next week a "47-year old single mother takes on a precocious cheerleader! It's a battle of the ages!" and a long-haired chiropractor takes on... eh, someone else. But this guy has hippie hair! That's gotta be good, right?

Sadly, I will never know who becomes the next gladiator. Because I don't care. I don't know if this show is worse the second time around, but it was bad enough the first time that it really doesn't matter. How did this get brought back and yet Firefly and Freaks and Geeks remain canceled? It's a strange world.

Now I don't need to see the movie!

What the hell is up with movie previews? I don't go to the movies very often, but that is partly because with movie previews the way they are, I don't need to. I swear to God, why do they feel they have to give away the whole movie in the trailer?

Voice Over Guy: Marty Beacon had the perfect life - two beautiful children, a husband who loved her, a house in the suburbs - until one day, all that changed. Now her husband doesn't know her, her children are terrified of her, and everyone tells her that Marty Beacon died two years ago.
Marty: Why is this happening to me? Why, God, why?!
VOG: Marty must investigate her own death under the guise of someone else, and all the while she feels she's being watched.
Marty: There's someone watching me. I know it...
VOG: Who is watching her? Why are they following her? Marty will have to openly face her nemesis in a fight for her life!
Marty: Show yourself!
VOG: Can she stop him? Will it get her family back? Or is it already too late...
[Marty is in hospital bed, lots of tubes and wires. The camera pans up to a doctor looking over her chart, then turning to her... husband and children, gathered around her bed!]
Husband: Doctor, how is she?
Doctor: I won't lie to you - it doesn't look good.
Husband: What's wrong with her?
Doctor: Nothing.
Husband: What? How can that be?
Doctor: We've done every test we have and they've all come back negative. No, I'm sorry sir, this is beyond our capabilities. Whatever is wrong with Marty, it's something she's got to battle out herself.
VOG: As Marty battles within herself, with her own secret demons, her family waits anxiously by her side. Will Marty ever wake up? Will she ever learn the truth? Find out, this summer, in "Beacon Hill."
[Final shot of Marty in hospital bed, eyelids fluttering, kids saying, happily, "Mom?"]

Who came up with this name?

Have you seen the product "Lectric Shave"? It's tagline is "Blade close. Lectric smooth." Who came up with this name? Was "Electric Shave" taken? And what does "lectric smooth" mean? That's not a thing! The new commercial has a guy with a face full of stubble that, upon closer inspection, all have his face. The stubble are all wilted and sad. And then he rubs on his shave lotion (or whatever it is) and they all stand up straight, grinning and surprised. "Lectric shave!" they shout. I have two questions.
1) How creepy is it that sentient facial hair look forward to the most obvious sign of their own demise?
2) Do all of the stubble faces have faces on their stubble?

His Dark Materials: Not So Dark

I didn't hear about "The Golden Compass" or the "His Dark Materials" series until the movie of the first book came out last year. And I wasn't really interested then either. I mean, come on: armored polar bears? Yes, very exotic. A+. Now sit down and shut up. But then I heard that these books were anti-religious and had angered the far right. I thought, "I bet they aren't either. I bet they're all like, 'Hey, it's Sunday, let's have an ice cream,' and the religicos are all like, 'Oh my G-... goodness, they hate God and want to kill him with an ice cream on his day of rest!' Stupid right wing nut jobs." (Just as an aside, have I ever mentioned how totally tolerant I am of other people's beliefs? I'm like a frickin' saint.) Armored bears? Twee exotic. Anti-religious themes? Ooh, count me in!

**SPOILER ALERT**
I will try not to give away plot points, but in so much as they are about the stance these books take vis-a-vis religion, it may be unavoidable.

CONSIDER YOURSELF WARNED

So I read the first one as quickly as I could, getting very little sleep in the process. And it wasn't anti-religious, and certainly not anti-Christian. It was a great little adventure story about a bratty little girl, the world's awesomest pocket watch, some armored bears and a really evil monkey. It wasn't exactly what I'd consider a children's story, but it's themes regarding religion could be summed up as follows: "Religion is fine, whatever, and faith is really a good thing, but you know what sucks? The Spanish Inquisition. Yeah, religions should really avoid that Torquemada shit." Pete said that the real Anti stuff didn't occur until the second and third books, according to what he'd read about them, so of course I had to go on. The second book ("The Subtle Knife") did broaden the anti-religious sentiment. It's message was more: "Actually, now that I think about it, religion in general kind of sucks. Somaybeweshouldkillgodjustasuggestion. Or whatever." And I was left with the feeling that something had happened in the midst of writing the last quarter of the first book that had poisoned Pullman against the church as evinced by the second books more strident denunciation. Still, it wasn't exactly revolutionary. More like, "Well, if the church in this made up world is evil, maybe one should excise its black heart." It didn't imply, "The church in reality is evil. Seriously. Evil." And the story was still engaging - now there was a sullen boy character from our own world! and the world's awesomest knife! - so I forged ahead. (Actually, that makes it sound like work. I'll try again.) - so I excitedly started devouring the third book ("The Amber Spyglass"), anxious to see what would become of Lyra (bratty girl who is also inexplicably sympathetic) and Will (sullen boy who is necessarily sympathetic for putting up with Lyra).

The third book started out by pretty much shouting at the top of its voice: JUST IN CASE YOU MISSED IT BEFORE, UM, THIS IS AN ALLEGORY FOR HOW THE CHURCH IS EVIL AND NOW YOUR BELOVED CHARACTERS ARE GOING TO EMBARK ON A MISSION TO KILL GOD; TRY NOT TO STRESS OUT ABOUT IT TOO MUCH BECAUSE IT'S FOR THE BEST. And that was okay because up until that point they had primarily been adventure stories and that's what I was in them for anyway. Also, the baddest of the baddies (the one with the evil monkey) had yet to be dispatched, so I had that too look forward to. But then...

Wait, let me describe this book physically first, in case you haven't seen them. This is a 450 or so-page paperback in like 8pt type. It's not what I would call a long book, but I certainly wouldn't call it short. It's more like the book you take on vacation - it's good for 5 hours on a plane, half an hour to an hour every night before bed in your hotel room, and the 5 hours back home. In that size of an adventure/fantasy book I expect a main quest, one or two side quests, some kind of mystical destiny to be fulfilled, a Big Bad to be revealed, thwarted, reborn and then finally defeated, and then for either a family to be reunited or the protagonist to fall in love (it works if they just come to grips with the death of their parents or lover instead, if that's what's called for). Probably someone should make a noble sacrifice in there somewhere. If it's a book for adults, there will probably be some awkwardly written sex, but that's okay so long as no one's "manhood" throbs and no one feels "awash in womanly" anything. (PS: this is one of the primary reasons I prefer young adult sci-fi/fantasy as no one ever goes farther than kissing or virgin marriage.)

But what does "The Amber Spyglass" give you? Deus Ex Machina MacGuffin Quest 2008. It reads like a series of half-hour episode summaries for a British mini-series called Amber Spyglass. Every improbable idea works the first time, exactly as it's meant to. The magical items that propelled the plot of the first two books are suddenly MacGuffined for no clear reason. Why does it matter if so-and-so stole your awesome tool if you're never going to use it? Oh, because you needed a reason to go to this other place and steal this toy that for a while was also an awesome tool but now will also not be used. Even when they do use their magic items, one is given the impression by the ease with which they pick up these esoteric new skills that the item is itself irrelevant. And really, that would almost have been a more interesting story. What if Will didn't need a knife, subtle or otherwise, to cut his way into other parallel worlds? What if Lyra didn't need a golden symbol reader - or even a brass tack! - to understand the universe and answer impossible questions?

"The Amber Spyglass" is a little breathless at times. I think Pullman had enough ideas left over at the end of "The Subtle Knife" for about 10 books, but decided it had to be a trilogy because of God or Jesus or the Holy Ghost or someone, and so just crammed all the ideas he could into one book. The result is that the characters never have more than a moment for introspection or development and it is wearying. An example:
A: Hey, that's a neat watch.
B: Oh yeah? Thanks! Oh no, that man stole it!
A: Really? Well let's steal it back.
B: Oh no, it's not where we saw him leave it!
C: Hey kids, I'll make you a deal: I'll give you your watch if you get me a new spork.
B: Any spork?
C: No, a specific, magic spork, that makes everything taste like meatloaf and A-1.
A: K...
C: Oh, did I mention that it's in a parallel universe?
B: Hey, we're in the parallel universe. Thank god we just happened upon that door marked "Parallel Universe, In Here"
A: Oh no, some crazy guy has the spork!
B: Let's fight him.
D: Oh-you killed me! You're now the Spork Master!
A: Let's get my watch back.
B: Yeah, we have the watch and the Spork!
A: Let's go to Hades.
B: Okay!
A: Wow, Hades sucks.
B: Yeah, let's let all the dead out of it.
A: Good idea!
B: There you go, ghosts! Enjoy Not Hades!
A: Oh no, I'm captured!
B: I'll save you!
A: Safe - except for this new and even more random danger!
And it just goes on like that for 450+ pages.

Somewhere along the line Pullman just completely loses his authorial voice. I mean completely. In literary theory they talk about monovocality and polyvocality - all the characters having the author's voice and pushing forward his/her agenda versus all the characters having independent voices from the author's as well as independent agendas. The first truly polyvocal writers are said to be the 19th century Russians - Tolstoy, Dostoevsky, etc. - and when you compare them to say, Jane Austin, you can really see what a literary theorist is talking about. Normally I am irritated by monovocality, unless it is historically appropriate. For instance, George Sand's "Indiana" or Voltaire's "Candide" wouldn't be very good political statements if the characters could voice opinions that differed from the author's main purpose. But a good story, especially a good adventure, is always better when it's polyvocal. And that doesn't mean you can't hear the author: you can, it's just separate from the characters. An allegory kind of has to be monovocal, which is why complex adventure stories usually make poor allegories. Questing stories make excellent allegories; they're very linear. "The Golden Compass" was truly polyvocal, in my opinion. It was, at its heart, an adventure and Lyra had all the hallmarks of a great adventurer: brave, lucky, foolhardy, smart-assed, headstrong, loyal, clever, compassionate... The second book was pretty good that way too, although at times it seemed like the author was working a little too hard to force Lyra and Will into different voices every time they seemed to naturally align. The third book began the decent into allegory. And that's where Pullman really got lost. Rather than my usual complaints about a monovocality where polyvocality is warranted or vice versa, it was like Pullman himself didn't know what he was going for. There are whole sections of the book where I can almost hear him pacing behind me, fretting, "Oh dear oh dear oh dear," as he tries to stay true to his adventuring ideas (The world of the dead! Also: harpies!) and yet at the same time force it into an allegory-shaped box.

By the end, the dialog doesn't even sound like the same characters any more. They're completely washed out. And that is when you can really begin to see the author's philosophical struggle. On the one hand, he wants to make sure you understand that Religion Is Bad And Evil And The Source Of All Suffering, so he has to set his characters up for heartbreak so you'll want them to succeed. But he loves his characters: Will and Lyra are his children. So he wants them to be happy and then they are. But that seems to imply that all it takes to be happy in the world is to reject religion, and that becomes its own religion, so they have to continue to suffer so that you know that's just how the world is. But that shouldn't make up doubt that the world has the potential to be a nice and good place! So then he gets all hopeful again. The ending is so sugar-coatedly twee, so transparently uplifting and inspiring, that it even as it made my eyes tear up and my chest heavy with sadness for these two sweet-hearted little kids I'd been rooting for, it also made my eyes roll. Pete thinks there should be a word for that, crying and eye rolling. He suggested Crainge, like cry+cringe.

So what is the bottom line. The bottom line is that "The Amber Spyglass" was wholly unsatisfying. I'm sitting here right now wishing I knew what happened to Lyra and Will. Only I do know. What happened was so super saturated with adventure and doe-eyed adoration it read like fan fiction and therefore doesn't really feel like part of the story. Here is a summary of how "The Amber Spyglass" ultimately concludes its tail:**SPOILERS**

Two 12-year olds maybe have sex and that saves the world from pouring all of its consciousness into a great abyss. Religion is bullshit, but ESPECIALLY Christianity - one character actually says, "Christianity got it completely wrong" which lead me to say to myself, "Bone to pick much?" which when I type it doesn't look like it makes much sense but it did in my head - and God is a hobbled old man who just wants to die, except that he's not even the creator because no one knows how that happened, but maybe it was just science or something. ANYWAY, the real meaning of life, the universe and everything is a balance between altruism and sensual pleasures (of which I'm sure there are exactly 42) and that's why it's okay for two 12-year olds to have sex (maybe - it says "they lay together" - about as subtle as a knife that cuts through anything).

Sigh. The worst part is that I can't stop thinking about it because it was so unsatisfying. If you've read these books, I'd be interested to know what you think. Or if you haven't read them. Either way. I've been harassing Pete with it all evening. And he was like, "Oh my God this is a lengthy blog post so please type it up and stop asking me if I think a confused authorial voice and allegory that might just be a bad metaphor or analogy makes for poor reader satisfaction!" So I'm posting a lengthy blog post and asking you: what do you think?

Calling all Sociologists!

Calling all sociologists! We've got an 11-59!

If you are interested in the sociology of video gaming (or just the sociology of gender) you need to be watching the crap on the G4 video game channel. Their "Attack of the Show" is pretty much the worst thing on TV - they just interviewed David Caruso and managed to make him look like a professional - but even watching it on mute, you get a good sense of what I'm talking about. Some of the dudes are "cool" (or metro or at least well-dressed) or whatever, and some are just gamer nerds. But ALL of the ladies are hot. To a woman, they are all slender, boobied and long-haired. Now if you can stand to watch this show with sound, you'll find that the dynamic between the two hosts (a guy and a girl) is straight out of the '70s. It's vaguely anti-woman with a smiling nod to her inferior gaming knowledge/skillz. All of the jokes (which are universally terrible) are about sex (doin' chicks), poo or how nerds are not very physically active. It's such a perfect picture of what industry thinks of gamers - they want to be Rico Suave and hang out with attractive ladies, they like jokes about sex and poo, they can only understand things if presented as a videogame analogy - it borders on parody. In fact, they hosts are constantly shrieking at the viewer, "We know what you want! We know what you want!" Which begs the question: if you're presenting the viewer with what he wants, why do you have to tell him that?

Identity reinforcement is an interesting phenomenon in popular culture. I was recently trapped in a clinic lunch room for 8 hours doing patient interviews and forced to listen to country music all day. Prior to this time, I had never listened to much country - just whatever one crazy friend forced on my in high school. The first thing I noticed in the first two hours was that I can't tell the songs apart unless it changes from a male to a female singer. The second thing I noticed was that the lyrics are constantly describing (building?) and reinforcing the Country Identity. In talking about this with Joe, Lisa and Pete, Lisa pointed out that they also spring God on you at the end of the song. Here is what it's like:
I wear my jeans,
I drive my truck,
my life is just like yours.
I got this girl,
she's really cute,
but sometimes she's real trouble.
Now you understand
what I'm talking about
because we all got problems.
The pastor says
my girl means well
so I pray on it each Sunday.

This is not something I've ever noticed in rock music, or even in rap. Rap does a lot of identity work, but it's mostly: I'm awesome, I'm keepin' it real, my life kicks ass, here is a list of things that I do because I'm awesome. The identity construction available to listeners isn't aimed at them the way it is in country. Country music says, "Here's what you are, and so are we, and we should all be content with that, for better or worse." Rap music, on the other hand, offers a description of an great life and implies that if you were to achieve/do/own these things, your life would be great as well. Some rap concentrates on the "keepin' it real" vibe, but even then it's more like a personal justification of realness rather than an instruction to the listener.

Here are links to the lyrics for of the Top 10 Hot Country Songs from Billboard (1/19/08).
1. Taylor Swift, Our Song
2. Sugarland, Stay
3. Montgomery Gentry, What do ya think about that?
4. Rascal Flatts, Winner at a Losing Game
5. Keith Urban, Everybody
6. Brad Paisley, Letter to Me
7. Gary Allan, Watching Airplanes
8. Kenny Chesney, Don't Blink
9. Josh Turner, Firecracker
10. Billy Ray and Miley Cyrus, Ready, Set, Don't Go

I read through these lyrics and came up with 28 themes that seemed pretty common and then (because I'm a totally OCD nerd) made a little chart and counted up which songs had which themes/words. Here they are, from most common to least common:

• Love - 8
  
• Church/praying/God - 7
• Car/truck - 6
• Baby (word) - 5
• Time - 5
• Crying - 5
• Leaving - 4
• Pain - 4
• Mama/Daddy (words) - 3
• High school - 3
• Sex - 3
• Love lost - 3
• Looking back - 3
• Kids - 3
• Packing - 3
• Phone/calling - 2
• Beer/drunk/drugs - 2
• Farm - 2
• "Others" - 2
• Games/prize/win/lose - 2
• American holiday/event - 2
• Marriage - 2
• Town (word) - 2
• Loneliness - 2
• Truth/lies - 2
• Radio/music - 2
• Clothes - 1
• Cheating - 1

Okay, so it looks like (at least for this week's top 10) my sense that country songs are always telling you what the singer is wearing is maybe a little exaggerated. Two of the seven songs that talk about God/church in some way do so as an ambiguous reference (one to "faith" and one to "heaven"), so that count is debatable. But overall it looks like the sense that country music is all about love, God, one's "baby" and automobiles is pretty accurate. The two songs that didn't talk about love are the Montgomery Gentry song about how people gossip about you when you're white trash, but dagnabbit, you got a right to keep a rusted out ol' Ford in your front yard while you splash mud all over the town with your big 4-wheel drive; and the Keith Urban song, which is about depression and loneliness and having hope.

In terms of which song had the most of the 28 themes, that would be the Brad Paisley song, with 13 (car, god, daddy, high school, love, sex, American event, marriage, love lost, looking back, kids, pain, time). Sugarland was a close second with 12 (baby, god, phone, crying, cheating, love, leaving, sex, loneliness, truth/lies, pain, time), and the Cyruses were third with 11 (car, baby, god, crying-kind of implied, love, leaving, town, game, kids-implied, packing, pain). Gary Allen had 10. Taylor Swift, Rascal Flatts, and Kenny Chesney had 9. Montgomery Gentry had 8, Josh Turner had 5 and Keith Urban only had 3.

Of course, this is far from scientific (bordering on "pointless waste of time"), but I think it's interesting to note that the 8/10 of the Billboard top 10 hot country songs are about love in some way and that 7/10 involve God, prayer or christianity. Shouldn't there be more variety? I was going to do the same thing for the top 10 rock and top 10 rap songs, but now I'm bored, so I'm just going to assume that 8/10 of the songs on those lists would not share a single theme. What is the point? Hegemony. It's there on G4, too. My thesis statement is that while identity promotion (represented by rock, rap and tv stations not devoted to video games) can be thematically diverse, identity construction/reinforcement is thematically hegemonic and music/programming in hegemonic genres MUST pay homage to the hegemony or face expulsion/reclassification.

Sociologists, get on this! I want to see papers on my desk by week's end!

Weather, TV, Books - I have opinions!

Far be it from me to criticize the navigational abilities of weather, but I feel that we may need to stage an intervention. First, hurricane force winds and rain and flooding in NW Oregon. But okay, it's off the ocean, and the ocean is, if anything, powerfully unpredictable. Maybe even weather can't help that. But now a tornado? In VANCOUVER? I mean, that's just crazy talk! And it turns out there was an even more devastating tornado in Vancouver in 1972.

Momentary digression: I just saw an ad for the Portland Bridal Expo and it had some of the WORST film ever. The final images are of a "bride" traipsing down the runway and then a freeze frame right after she's turned. It's shot from below and at an angle, so imagine that her head is a straight vertical line at the center top of the shot; her body is a straight line from her neck to the bottom right corner of the screen, but turning in the middle so there's an almost nausiating sense of wrongness; her right arm is (if I remember correctly now) swinging out ahead of her from her far side, aimed towards the lower left corner; and her left arm is bent at the elbow, forming a triangle with her hip as the base and her elbow as the apex. The bouquet is in her left hand, looking stapled to her hip. And all of this is shot from below, so there are shadows under her chin and nose. It's a bridal expo, people: it's filled with people who know how to favorably photograph any bride in any light. But no: you picked the guy who usually shoots the car show because he knows the layout of the Expo Center already and will give you a discount if you buy him a hotdog.

Also, I've been reading a lot lately because... well, sadly, not because I love to read (which I do), but because of the writer's strike and Pete having Halo 3, Assassin's Creed, Mass Effect and now The Orange Box. [Fox 12 Morning Show update: one of their on-the-spot reporters is in a rented tux, dancing with a woman at the Expo Center. I think it's a very stiff box-step foxtrot. Oh God: he's trying to rumba and is doing that little twirling your hands and then shaking one to the side on the final beat thing. ::shudder::] I've read a lot of PD James mysteries, which I highly recommend. They're smart, James Doesn't try to prove to you that her detective is smart through gimmickry (like one writer who made a point of telling you that her main character had a 180 IQ, a perfect size-8 body and connections to Mossad in the first chapter of every book), they don't encourage you to solve the mystery yourself -although you sometimes can- and they don't usually end in the detective squaring off against his foe in a mano a mano battle to the death. I would start with an early one, like "A Mind to Murder" or "Unnatural Causes" before reading some of the later ones, like "The Black Tower" or "Death of an Expert Witness." The best of all (in my opinion, and of the one's I've read) is "Original Sin." It's like a thick set of character studies and is ultimately a rumination on the nature of family, personal loss, cruelty, revenge and forgiveness. But it helps to understand the main detective (Dalgliesh), although it isn't necessary to follow the plot.

I also just read "Stardust," which is a very sweet fairytale for adults because it has some cusses and some sex - but tasteful sex! It took about four hours to read, so if you've got a flight to take, it's the kind of paperback you can read on the plane and leave for the next passenger.

Yesterday I finished "The Golden Compass" and now I'm on to the second in that series, "The Subtle Knife." They're really good - fantasy adventure stories starring children without ever being cloying or new-agey. I picked them up because I was told they made fundamentalist christians mad and I had to know what all the fuss was about. The first one is more, "Oh, and also, in this world the Church is more like the Spanish Inquisition Church than the Church of today, and that's bad." But the second one is proving to be more, "And religion in general is a bad thing, tearing apart the universe and sending jackbooted thugs to your door." But we'll see. Mostly they're just really fun to read without making me cry (::coHARRYPOTTERugh::).

My fears. Read about them.

I think the cat is eating my insoles (the ones in my shoes, not the ones on my feet). I'm not sure when, as I'm almost always wearing them and she isn't allowed in our bedroom at night. But there is a big chunk out of one heel that seems unlikely to be the result of normal wear and tear.

That's it. That's all I fear, right now. Okay, there's tons of other stuff I fear, but it's the same old stuff that everyone always fears: murderers, bears, spiders, republicans, vulpinocracy, Tony Romo, poison, Bret Favre's inevitable retirement... The list goes on and is boring so I'm just going to stick with the cat/insoles thing for now.

Awesome Console Idea

I have an awesome idea for a console add-on. I'm watching Pete play Mass Effect and Assassin's Creed and they both have a lot of information to remember. Mass Effect, in particular, is very good at keeping everything organized for you and making sure that you can access more information than you could ever possibly need. Nonetheless, sometimes it's hard to remember "I checked this unmarked room already" or "I need to come back and ask this person these same stupid questions when I have more charm or intimidation." I really liked being able to make notes all over my maps playing Zelda on the DS; it was most helpful. I think that they ought to make a wireless "notepad" for the Xbox - something the size of that e-book reader Amazon is hawking. It would have a touch screen and a stylus (pen-length, please, for adult-sized hands) and could interface with the information provided by the game and allow you to make your own notes and associations.

For example, in Mass Effect you could open your journal on your TV screen and the map on your notebook and mark a big ol' unsmiley face for a lock you failed to finesse and will need to open with "omnigel" (or whatever it's called) when you have more of it (if you ever don't have enough). Or if you thought to yourself, "I'd like to give my friend Big Monster-Looking Guy some better armor, but I'll need to level up his Armor Wearing Skills; I hope I don't forget," you could open the buddy screen on your notebook and write "Needs better armor" over Big Monster-Looking Guy as a reminder. If you have trouble remembering where you're going, you could create little linking icons between the map and the journal entries the game so helpfully provides.

I think this would be even more helpful in games that don't provide Mass Effect-levels of information. It would create a whole new world for gaming guides and down-loadable content. You know how in those "Official Game Guide" books they sell for $20 at game/electronics stores they have specialty maps of where all the flags/keys/MacGuffins can be found throughout the game? Imagine if you could download those from the Tubes and X out each one as you collect it. For OCD gamers (like me) or completionists, that would be pretty neato.

Anyway, these are the things I think about while watching Pete play games. Well, this and, "I wonder if my brother would let me borrow his Xbox to play some Katamari."

I am not dead, Blogosphere!

Okay, so I did not post at all in the month of November. This is partly because life is very boring. (The good kind of boring, where you're happy, but nothing to blog home about, so to speak.) Things got busy at work and I have learned that although I think I've been very careful and have excellent attention to detail, there is nothing you can do to catch every mistake when reworking a medical form. I cut and forgot to subsequently paste questions. I missed numbering errors. I capitalized and italicized inconsistently. But lucky for me, there were a lot of people looking at it and I think we've caught everything now. (hahahaha!)

But this process, and the process of doing cognitive interviews about the form with actual patients, has lead me to really think about "health" - as an abstract - and about how social convention both helps and damns us. On the latter, because patients seek out their physician and their physician's advice, they will do pretty much anything the physician asks them to. Fill out a 13-page form? Sure! Answer the same embarrassing question four times? Why not! This is great for physicians because it allows them to quickly and easily get the information they need when they need it. Because they aren't wasting time explaining why patients should follow instructions or rereading a chart looking for one piece of hidden information they could easily ask for, they're brains are free to think about the patient's condition and to develop an autopilot for making diagnostic connections. On the other hand, patients will sometimes suffer through humiliating or painful procedures because they trust their doctor so implicitly. Why wouldn't you ask what something is for, why it's being done, why this piece of vital information can't be ascertained another way? Every patient I interviewed said the same thing about the incredibly long form: "I'm sure it's useful to the doctor. She wouldn't ask if she didn't need to know." When it comes to the doctors I'm working with, that's absolutely the case - you couldn't ask for more dedicated or caring specialists. But this is a general statement; it's not really about the physicians asking the questions; it's about any physician.

This brings me to "health" as an abstract. What is wellness? How do we define when we're well? What does it mean to be well? I think a major component of "health" is fear. You live every day in your body: shouldn't you know it better than anyone else? And yet it does so many strange things, for which there is seemingly no explanation. Finally, one of the strange things causes you concern, you know that you don't personally have an answer, so you go looking for one. And for most people, in that fearful state, unsure of what their symptoms mean, whoever they see first is who they see period. No matter how good or bad that physician is (and honestly: how would we tell the difference without being physicians ourselves?), most people will never question him/her or seek out a second opinion. And if you're a problem patient - someone who comes back repeatedly with the same mystery complaint, who believes in health fads, who's on the internet 24/7, who brings literature with them to the doctor's office - you will sometimes be given a catch-all, meaningless diagnosis because they don't know what's wrong with you and just want you to go away. Fibromyalgia. Interstitial cystitis. So long as there's a technical-sounding name, they can even make something up. And for some people, this works. Sometimes it really is psychological, and all they needed was a name for the condition and then suddenly the supplements or exercises or diet-changes take effect. And how is that not a cure?

What part of health is purely psychological? Don't we all rely on physicians to do fear-management and to help us understand what the emotional burden of our condition will be? I think an argument could be made that 95% of health is psychological. You can have a physiological problem, testable and visible to a trained professional, and not feel a thing. Are you then well or unwell? You could have achy joints every day of your life from birth, but that's your reality, so it isn't until you're an adult that it becomes clear that most people do not expect their joints to ache after sitting for more than an hour. Were you well or unwell before your realization? Are you any more well or unwell now? Our expectations for "wellness" are sometimes defined by our community, sometimes by the media, sometimes by personal experience and sometimes by our physicians. Is one right and another wrong? How is anyone supposed to understand wellness? How can anyone argue that there is an objective wellness?

These are the things that I've been thinking about. My guess is that they'll roll around in my head and ram up against specific problems and examples over the next couple of years. Hopefully that will help me decide what I want to do vis-a-vis a PhD program. If the questions become solid enough where I'm dying to experimentally explore them, then I'll want to go back to school. But if they stay amorphous like this, I'm not sure what good more school will do. Do I really want to get a PhD just to determine if something is measurable?

Moving! Also, this thing I found!

So we are finally all moved in, although we're still unpacking. And still writing thank you cards for wedding gifts. If you haven't received one yet, we're working on it! It would help us, if you have recently moved, if you could send us your address. Except Joseph: he's totally on top of things. ::gold star::

In other news, I found a note in the pocket of my winter coat from my cousin's wedding last spring. Here is what it says:

What is it with weddings and satan these days? And the admonitions against cheating?! SO WEIRD!

Let's make sure that we tell whoever marries us "no discussion of philandering" if we have any kind of ceremony.

I use nanobots to control you.

In your food.

Dude- where is he going with this?

[A family friend] says they've [my cousin and his girlfriend] been getting couples counseling with her pastor. I wonder if it's this guy.

I plan to be 90% of the trouble.

I would like to thank my brother for being awesome at our wedding and not talking about philandering, nanobots, womanly wiles, or the devil.

Just in case I missed you...

I've been trying to send this to everyone I know, but I may not have your email address. If that is the case, now's your chance! Read about voting YES on Measure 50! And send me your email address!

Are you registered to vote in Oregon? You should be!! And you should be voting YES on Measure 50! Why? Because...

WE LOVE CHILDREN! HOORAY!

But perhaps you would like to hear more about this exciting civic opportunity! You should first investigate...

www.healthykids-oregon.com

because it has exciting colors and colorful drawings, possibly made by real children!

But just in case you wanted Instant Information Gratification...

What will Measure 50 do?
Ultimately, it will give approximately 110,000 children health coverage through the state.

How will it be funded?
Measure 50 amends the constitution to include a tobacco tax, which funds the Healthy Kids program.

Who is lobbying against it?
Big Tobacco (those child-hating jerks!)

Perhaps you have seen No On 50 ads and are wondering, "Hey, what the hell?! I don't even know what to believe now!" I will attempt to respond to their salacious... I mean "thoughtful" arguments.

Over 70% of the funding generated by this bill will NOT go to kids! ::gasp::
Actually, the opposite is true: over 70% of the funding will go DIRECTLY to kids. ::double gasp:: I'm not sure how they got this so backwards. I mean, it's kind of a big mistake ::couLIEgh:: to make, especially on television where everyone can see it.

The state is using this bill to give millions to HMOs! ::faint::
The state will still use a competitive bidding process, and HMOs can participate. So, theoretically, if the HMOs had the best prices and gave the best coverage, then yeah, they would get millions of dollars. But the state isn't just forking it over. The state wants a dog and pony show. The state wants Hostess Cherry Pies emblazoned with the state seal. Also, good deals on care. That too.

This bill is a BLANK CHECK ::scare quotes!:: and the state will SQUANDER $67 million on Hostess Cherry Pies and road repairs!
Um, no. Just, just no. All the money is accounted for; it's all going into specific programs. Like smoking cessation! And safety net clinics! And the expansion of OHP (Oregon Health Plan) Standard to about 20,000 more low-income adults!

Amending the constitution is scary. It should make you want to cry. And hate children.
Remember, that's what this is all about. Even if you agree that amending the constitution is scary, this is about children - all the children. This is about vaccinations, well-child check-ups, preventive care and chronic condition care for things like asthma and diabetes. Kids are cheap to care for (from an insurance stand point) and healthy kids become healthy adults. Uninsured kids are much less likely to get care for things like ear infections and injuries, which means that they're sicker when they get to the hospital, so they spend more time in hospital when they get there. :( [That is me being sad for the children.]

So that's what I have to say about that! If you have any questions, feel free to ask! If I don't know the answer, I'll make one up! Or you can always write to the good people at www.healthykids-oregon.org or to Bruce Goldberg, Director of the Oregon Department of Human Services.

Why is "husband" so hard to remember?

Because I have 7 1/2 years practice saying "boyfriend." What's really weird is that it isn't a problem in public, but at home. I automatically say things like, "You're the best boyfriend ever." And then I'm forced to add, "I mean husband. Yes, that's the one." This leads me to one sad conclusion: those phrases have lost word-level semantic meaning for me. The meaning is in the phrase as a whole, like how people can say and use correctly "Je ne sais quoi" or "c'est la vie" without knowing what the actual words mean because they don't speak French. Still, it's particularly weird to me because I was so sick of the term "boyfriend." It just didn't accurately represent our relationship anymore. Who knew that familiarity (with the term) would breed both contempt and fear of change?

Once you graduate, where do you get advice?

Here is a question: Now that I've finished graduate school, where do I go for advice on my student loans? I am disinclined to tap my school's financial aid department as they haven't been much help in the past. I'm not sure I can trust my lender to give me unbiased advice and my bank's loan people aren't set up to make student loans, let alone give informed opinions about them. What have you done? Who would you talk to?

Joe Has The Best Idea Ever

In the comments for my August 14 post Joe suggested a hilarious scenario, one that I hope we witness in our lifetimes. In the form of a sitcom. I want a sitcom world in which McDonald's (or similar) enacts the BMI rule. It would be just one season. Maybe two, but you'd have to have a full story arc from the beginning.

Episode One: Characters are introduced, scene is set.
1) McDonald's-loving congressman. He has a fat wife/daughter/son/whatever and writes the bill that requires fast food establishments to measure BMI before selling customers food.
2) Congressman's chief of staff. He has to run interference between the congressman and the loved one. He also has to sneak the congressman fast food, which means he spends a lot of time working out. He is a foil. And a tool.
3) Congressman's wife/daughter/son/whatever. Fat, angry, frequently tries to bribe the chief of staff.
4) Fast food executive who has to deal with the legislation.
5) Fast food executive's nutrition/training expert/consultant who has to "synergize" the new requirements and "actionize" their implementation.
6) Beleaguered fast food restaurant manager. The only person to see that this is total insanity and that it's never going to work.
7) Motley crew of fast food employees.
7a) Pimply faced teenage boy.
7b) Greasy ex-con/-vet (depending on whether the show is on Fox or ABC).
7c) Goth girl teenager.
7d) Preppy but poor girl teenager from the NASCAR Ghetto who is all about "makin' it to Corporate!"
7e-g) Several Hispanics of indeterminate age who only speak "fast food English." They also see that the new legislation is never going to work, but no one listens to them because all Americans are racist. (Subtle, huh?) Oh, also, they are always in a group. And I can't decide if it's funnier if they're subtitled or not. I say not and reward all of the kids who took/take high school Spanish.
8) Assorted regular customers.
9) Assorted random, one-off customers.

Episode Two: The Employees Go To Training.
Hilarity ensues when the employees have to duck out one or two at a time for training in using the new "BMI Customer Machine." The expert/consultant informs them that it stands for "Because McDonald's Invests in its Customers. Pimply Face says, "Wouldn't that be BMIIIC?" ::laugh track::

Episode Three: Congressman realizes he's too fat to get a Big Mac. Hilarity ensues!

Episode Four: The Machine breaks, but the only people who notice are the Hispanics and no one can understand them. By the second half of the show they have gotten a repair person out (a sassy lady in a jumpsuit with indie glasses, a red rag in her back pocket and a black pony-tail pulled through her hat!) and... um... hilarity ensues.

Episode Five: The Congressman's wife/kid/whatever gets a job. At the McDonald's! Will his/her obesity turn people off their food? What if a customer asks him/her something like, "So, what are you allowed to have?" Hahaha! Making fun of people whose lives are at serious risk for a whole slew of terrible diseases and conditions! Hahaha!

Then there's the rest of the season where, you know, hilarity ensues, except for one or two touching moments. (Preppy Girl finds out that "Hispanics are real people too!" And then she realizes that she still doesn't know their names! Haha!)

Final Episode: The attorney general or supreme court or whatever declares the law unconstitutional. The expert/consultant goes on to a new project (it's a reality tv show: what happens when you put ten people together in a three bed/one bath on a deserted island... and they all happen to be ethnic Maylays who are obsessed with Prince?!). The congressman's wife/son/daughter/whatever loses a butt-ton of weight on a local version of Celebrity Biggest Loser. (WOOOooooOOOOO!) And the congressman has a heart attack. Because of all the McDonald's he ate. And he dies. The final scene is his funeral. And his skinny wife/son/daughter/whatever is there gnawing on a chicken leg. His chief of staff gives a disapproving look, to which s/he replies: "What?! I'm on Atkins!" Hahahahaha!

This has all been extremely stream of conscious. Which is about how well thought out I think most sitcoms are. But I think this would be an awesome concept. The trick is to limit it to a single season (maybe - MAYBE - two) so that you don't end up with any weddings at the McDonald's or crap like that.

Just ignore constitutionality for a minute...

...and consider the following (possibly retarded) thought.

What if McDonald's determined what you could order at their restaurants based on BMI. My brother could have whatever he wants; Pete and I could have salads, chicken or parfaits; the morbidly obese could have salads and diet coke.

McDonald's is trying to sell itself as healthful with their new commercials showing fresh foods never before seen in an actual McDonald's restaurant. They haven't changed their products, they just want you to think they have. But what if they were honest about it and decided to actually influence their patrons' health. Then all the young, thin, beautiful people eating burgers would be truth in advertising. Although they'd have to tape new ads of happy fat people eating their dressingless salads and sipping their Super Sized waters. That would be kind of awesome.

Anxiety! TV! Eehugh...

I have the anxieties. Sometimes, at night, when I am tired, I become particularly susceptible to being overly (and inappropriately) empathetic. Were you to walk in on my watching TV, and were I to not notice you, you would be able to watch my face mimic the expressions of the characters on the screen, moment to moment. I am like a mirror when I'm tired. Or a big dumb monkey. Whichever you prefer. But sometimes, when a show is quite good or I like the characters quite a lot, I am left with their emotional detritus long after the show is over. So tonight I am filled with anxieties about someone killing me and needing to throttle a friend because I watched "Weeds" when I was really too tired to be watching that show.

Here are some other shows that are super good: The Closer, Burn Notice, Psych. Yes, I watch a lot of TV on channels in the 50s (at least here in Portland). The Closer (on TNT) is really good; it's very clever and the characters are interesting and likable. Burn Notice is surprising. I guess I didn't give USA enough credit (as I am SO sick of Monk). Every so many episodes he just caps/blows up a guy. Because he's an ex-spy and you shouldn't fuck with him. Psych (also on USA) is a great comedy. The show is totally aware of how improbable its premise is and it embraces it. I really appreciate that in TV. Of course nothing on TV right now is quite as funny as 30 Rock. If you haven't seen that show at all, it is totally worth the half hour of your Thursday evening that it requires. If you have seen a couple episodes but haven't seen the ones with Isabella Rossellini, you need to watch them now. Highlights include her pulling down Tina Fay's top in one episode, and saying, with complete sincerity, "Damnit, Jack; you know how I love my big beef and cheddar," in another.

Maybe I'll see if I can find an episode of 30 Rock on the intertubes so that I can assuage my anxieties with the sweet balm of giggle fits.

Recipe for deliciousness!

I had a breakthrough tonight! Today I am a lady who can once again eat certain cooked fruits! Last week, in a moment of weakness, I ate a slice of a delicious peach my mother was having for a snack. It was so so delicious (the first bite of peach I've had in maybe four years) and worth all the minor mouth itching. But that was just it: the itching was minor! There were no welts. I was welt-free! So I thought to myself: hey, maybe I can eat cooked peaches like a normal person with birch pollen-related cross-allergies (like myself). And that's what I did tonight. I ate half a cooked peach and I did not itch, welt, swell or die. I just enjoyed a piece of fruit more than I have ever enjoyed a food stuff before. So here is the recipe.

Sydney's Four-Year Baked Peaches
(serves 4)

2 peaches, halved and pitted
1/4 cup water
2 tbsp honey
2 tbsp sugar
2 tsp vanilla extract
cinnamon
nutmeg

1. Preheat oven to 400 degrees.

2. Place peaches center-side up in a 13" x 9" glass baking dish. Sprinkle with cinnamon to taste. (I didn't fully cover them; just a splattered them. But if you like a lot of cinnamon, go nuts!) Sprinkle each one with just a couple grains of nutmeg: it is powerful stuff. Set aside.

NOTE: you could peel the peaches if you wanted to. If they have particularly thick skin, you may want to consider doing so. You also may want to slice a little off the back of each half so that they don't roll around in the baking dish.

3. Mix water, honey, sugar and vanilla in a small sauce pan. Cook over medium/medium-low heat until the sugar is melted and the mixture has thickened.

4. Spoon mixture over each peach, making sure to cover each face completely. It will pool in the centers and that is cool. Don't worry about overflow or washing away cinnamon. Just pour it all until your pan is empty.

5. Bake in oven for 15 minutes, or until the peaches are tender. But be careful, don't cook them to mush or they will not be as delicious!

6. Remove from oven and place in bowls. Serve with vanilla ice cream or marscapone cheese.

NOTE: I suggest mixing making the marscapone a little more interesting, like so:
For each person...
1/4 c. marscapone
1 tsp-1 tbsp sugar (depending on how sweet they like it), or 1 packet of splenda/equal
1-2 drops almond extract

Eat, enjoy, and think of me: the girl who can't eat delicious peaches (except sometimes when cooked) because her stupid body thinks they're birch pollen.

Calling on Portlanders who love root beer!

Are you a friend of mine who loves root beer? Are you in Portland? Pete -webtron gadfly- has made some delicious root beer cupcakes. He saw the recipe on Boing Boing and when he saw how much root beer schnapps it used, he was sold. So now we have 20 or so root beer cupcakes that we can't eat because we drank so much damn Henry's Delicious Amazing And Perfect Root Beer last night, we're sick of the stuff. So if you like delicious cupcakes and root beer, give us a call: there's one with your name on it!

Addendum: Why We Own Root Beer Schnapps
Yes, it's as disgusting as it sounds (not in baked goods, but in anything else). No, we did not buy it because that sounded "awesome." My brother and a coworker of his were comparing mixed drink recipes (or maybe just weird crap they'd mixed together and drunk; I forget how they got on this topic) and his coworker suggested a Root Beer Float: vanilla vodka, root beer schnapps and cream/half & half. Aren thought this sounded awesome (or at least interesting) and so procured the necessary liquors. The verdict? I didn't have one as it smelled like pure, vile alcohol, but Aren said that it tasted like liquor with an aftertaste of flat root beer. Yum. Turns out this was just a hypothetical drink and his coworker had never tried it before. So we were left with most of a bottle of root beer schnapps and the knowledge that no one would ever drink it. To our surprise, a couple jacks and jiggers have been siphoned off at various times in the name of curiosity. I think Stormy had a jigger over ice, but that kid is both brave and adventurous. After the cupcake caper, we only have about a quarter of the bottle left. So if you are a friend of mine or Pete's, you are in Portland and you want to try some root beer schnapps: come on down! We have at least a jigger with your name on it!

Am I in the southern hemisphere?

The date: August 11. The time: 11:30pm. The place: Portland, OR. The temperature: 59 fawking degrees! I'm not kidding: I'm wearing a hoodie, jeans and tennis shoes, and we haven't taken the comforter off the bed more than three times this summer. Or whatever you call this season. Maybe "The Sunny Season" to differentiate it from the prior "Gray And A Little Rainy But Fresh Season." After "The Sunny Season" comes the "Gray And A Little Rainy But Everything Dies Season." And then finally the "Cold And Gray Season."

I shouldn't complain. I hate heat and humidity. This is just shocking, that's all. And that's all I have to say on that for two reason: 1) There is a spider on the ceiling and I must get Pete to do something about it; 2) The overhead light is flickering irritatingly (and suddenly!) and it's quite maddening.

Oh, but before I go: I went to the Portland IKEA yesterday and today. It is really weird to go into a place I associate with Europe and the east coast and see it filled with local yokels. Not to put too fine (or judgmental) a point on it, but that place was just loaded with morbidly obese Oregonians today. It was depressing. Like a Future Stroke And Diabetes parade. If I were ever going to hand out nutrition information leaflets, I think I would start at IKEA. Not that I'm the picture of health or anything myself; my BMI sets me comfortably in the Overweight range and if I get any more sedentary I think I might qualify as a pet rock. BUT... it was bad. It made me worry about Oregon and the health of her citizens. How is it possible that we're so fat as a state when we're living in one of the greatest places on earth for sport (where it's 59 degrees at night in the goddamned summer!)?

Trying To Care About Baseball

Pete told me about a very interesting point John Lovitz made about the whole Bonds/Aaron/Doping thing. He said that Lovitz said that a friend of his in the MLB said years ago that there were thousands of players doping. The quote, as Pete recounted it, was "If I knew, how could the commissioner not know?" On the other hand, he continued, if thousands of guys are doping, why aren't they all hitting home runs like Bonds?

I'm trying to care about this, but it's not easy. It seems like there's a principle here and that maybe it's related to something bigger and more important, something about lax morals in our modern age or what have you. I don't know much about Hank Aaron as a person, but he's always seemed like a nice guy. I think the difference is in what it meant for Aaron to break and then hold the record versus what it means for Bonds to do so. When Hank Aaron neared Babe Ruth's record, he received death threats, yet he was voted into the Hall of Fame with like 98% of the vote (or however the Baseball Hall of Fame works). The man played in a segregated league on a team called the Clowns, for crying out loud! Barry Bonds' record, on the other hand, does not represent a major step in the battle against racism. It's my understanding that there's some question as to whether or not he'll even be allowed into the Baseball Hall of Fame, and he certainly won't receive 98% of the vote. And I have no sense that he represents what's best about baseball, the way Hank Aaron continues to do today. On the other hand, no one is willing to take Bonds to task over the steroid accusations, I assume either over lack of evidence or lack of will to really carry out the witch hunt that would instigate. The question of his Hall of Fame eligibility is certainly less clear than Pete Rose betting on baseball. And maybe Bonds does represent a milestone in the civil rights movement: a record-approacher whose death threats have nothing to do with his race but rather with his supposed drug use.

The thing is: baseball is boring. ..::B O R I N G::.. It takes forever, the stats are arcane, you can't understand what in the hell the announcers are talking about, and the players don't seem to have any of the joie de jouer that earlier players had (or that you see all the time in basketball and even pretty often in football). It might as well be test cricket for all the interest it holds for me. And I think other people can feel that too, the ennui that makes it seem strange to see the excitement and pageantry at Japanese baseball games. I mean, it's our national pastime, right? Then why are our stands half-empty and morose when the Japanese stands are full and almost riotous? Watching Tony Bourdain at a Hanshin Tigers game on "No Reservations" made me think, "hey, maybe baseball games could be fun." But then I remembered what going to an actual game is like (Mariners, Father's Day, 1991 maybe?) and wondered why I couldn't remember taking the Crazy Pills whose effects I was so clearly feeling.

So I don't really care, is what it comes down to. Bonds' victory is ambiguous. Maybe he's the best slugger out of all the dopers, but that would still make him a doper. He's no Hank Aaron, but he's not really a Pete Rose either. One could argue that he rather nicely represents the state of baseball today.

Ian McEwan Writes The Books I Wish I Wrote

I just finished On Chesil Beach and it is really beautiful. I wrote a review on Facebook and I'm too lazy to copy it here. But there is something I left out of the review because it was without context. A couple months ago when I read The Historian I complained that no one can write a decent sex scene. They're usually awkward, embarrassing and definitely not sexy. Mostly I feel like they miss the whole point of sex, focusing on the erotic as though it is mutually exclusive from love or kindness or friendship. Now that I put that in words, it seems really clichéd, which isn't how I meant it at all. It is just to say that most sex scenes in books seem to be detached from the overall narrative, these intense moments of passion, gratification and sometimes joy, when in reality sex is (in my opinion) rarely all that separate from one's general narrative. But maybe I'm missing the point. I'll grant that could be the case. Ian McEwan, though, never misses the point. On Chesil Beach contains the most beautifully written sex scene I have ever read. And it's awkward virgin sex! The whole scene is built up to as part of the character construction as the plot centers around the wedding night of the two protagonists, Edward and Florence. The sex (which is rather graphically detailed - on a scale from "Pride & Prejudice" to "The Mammoth Hunters," it rates above a "Lady Chatterley's Lover" but maybe just below a "Mists of Avalon" because he doesn't euphemise) is never removed from the context of the characters' relationship. Florence is disgusted by the whole idea of physical intimacy, but is horrified at the idea that she might disappoint this man she loves so dearly. Edward has mistaken her fear and revulsion for coyness and is looking forward to finally consummating the relationship, which has him worried about poor performance. McEwan weaves all of their respective anxieties into the narrative of the experience. And although it is a cringingly awkward and shameful experience for the protagonists (as the loss of virginity is for any member of any rather closed society, as postwar England is painted in this novel), it was somehow still beautiful to read.

I finished this book yesterday and I feel lighter and somehow happier today for having read it. It's short - less than 200 pages, I think - and didn't take long to read. But it made me re-evaluate why we fall in love and when and how it happens. At some point in the book Edward realizes that though he is already in love with Florence, he feels a wave of additional fondness wash over him and realizes that the joy of truly loving someone isn't something that sits with you always at the same level, but is rather something that comes in waves. The message I took away from it is that one can fall in love with the same person again and again without ever falling out of love with them. And I think that's true (I know it's true for me). So read this book! Or anything by Ian McEwan, really. But if you're looking for something short and brilliant and beautiful, pick this one.

Cap'n Ferret Fancier

Nothing can make you mean like watching a documentary on people who "show" ferrets. Like a dog show. But with ferrets. Pete and I went from kind, caring, gentle shows, to the meanest, most judgmental jerks in about five minutes flat. It was the horrible ferret song sung by one of the ferret ladies. Seriously, though: if there is a real cross-section of America that "shows" ferrets, this show (on OPB) did not give it fair representation. But if the OPB show is representative, ferret people are almost universally obese 60+-year old women who either had children who have grown up and moved away, or who never married and never had children. They're weird. They like country-style furnishings and those tapestry pillows with scenes of rabbits and flowers. And tie-dye. And turquoise. I'm not kidding: even if you only have one mean bone in your body, ferret ladies will turn you into a trash talking ass hole.

Pete said at one point, "I bet there's one ribbon per ferret at that show." Here's how OBP ended the program. "327 ferrets entered the show. [pause-wait for it...] 400 ribbons were awarded."

Harry Potter again - don't worry! No spoilers!

Hey, all you writers out there! You with series-es! Yeah, you lot - come over here. That's good, okay, now you can all hear. Look, you have to start plotting out the series from soup to nuts from day one. If Rowling has taught us anything, it is that the most satisfying final book is one that ties everything together without tying everything up. If that makes any sense. Okay, okay, mystery-series-writers, you're right, you probably are exceptions. Sure sure, if a series is intrinsically episodic, then planning from A to Z is maybe not necessary from day one. But if there's a plot to follow, a story arc, a character whose journey one is meant to care about, please please PLEASE sit down and plot it out - all of it! - at the beginning. And don't bring characters back from the dead after the final blow just because everyone is clamoring for them. Get used to it! We readers are a rowdy noisy lot and also we're very demanding and unreasonable. But be firm! Be steadfast! And over time we'll come to appreciate the finite nature of your canon. Maybe we'll feel like we do about Nirvana, happy that we never had to suffer through a slow and synth-filled death.

Harry Potter

Hooray!

Sydney sleep now

Wedding planning...
Student loan payments...
Inadequate salary...
Wedding planning...
Need shoes for dress...
Training nurses to use Excel...
Allergies...
ALLERGIES...
ALLERGIES!!!

Splitting headache.

Left frontal lobe wants out.
Preferably through eye socket.

Sleep. Must sleep. For Saturday there is:
Harry Potter!
HOORAY!

Lightning is neato!

We just had a big ol' East Coast-style Thunder & Lightning Extravaganza here in Portland! Stick lightning and everything! It was all beautiful and clear this evening; the incredible, wonderful dry heat had just been replaced by the cool crepuscular breezes, which were sighing this way and that... and then, from the southeast, this green-gray miasma that can mean only one thing began first to creep and then to roll its way into and over the city. The storm was both calm and violent - the key lime-sized drops of rain were slow and infrequent, but heavily soaking. And it moved so quickly that for about five minutes after the rain had stopped at 25th and Marshall it was still bludgeoning the pavement at 25th and Northrup. The lightning was so cool - even the kitten (Domino, who is now a year old and as big as the old cat, Heidi) couldn't tear her eyes away from the window. I made her come in from the deck when the thunder started (I had to fish her out from under a patio chair) because I was worried that the noise would scare her. I should have known better: that cat isn't scared of anything. She was just desperate to get back out, running full speed up the stairs any time Pete or I took even a step in their direction. She stood by the window and mewled. She wound herself around and through Pete's legs and whined. But once we sat her in a north-facing window, she was glued to the spot until the storm moved too far north and the best parts of the lightning were obscured by our neighbors' rooftops. At that point I figured it was best to let her out, before she went totally nuts. I was surprised to find it was still raining- big, silent crocodile tears accompanied by more thunder to the south. Matt Zaffino (local weather hunk for the past 10-15 years, for those who don't recognize the name) says we're likely to have more storms throughout the night. Man, I love thunder storms! It was so cool to have real, awesome stick lightning for once too. I just hope I get to wake up in the middle of the night to the sound rain pounding the side of the house and thunder really crashing, not just grumbling.

I need my Harry Potter! ::whining:: Now...!

I just finished rereading Harry Potter 6 and now I need - NEED, people - number 7. I really enjoyed 6 the first time I read it, but it was even better the second time around. I'm going to have to reread 4, because right now, from where I stand, 6 seems like it's the best. There was so much that I missed the first time around because it was necessarily contextless. But knowing how it ends, having the context, well that changes everything! Or at least it feels like it does. So I'm all excited for number 7 now, even though I'm sure I'll cry right through the whole thing.

Is it the 21st yet? No? Damnit!

No, seriously: those PSAs suck

No, I'm sorry, I have to disagree: those ads are stupid. That irritating little dog being all like, "You disappoint me." Those ads make me want to get stoned and punt a puppy across a large room. And I love puppies! I don't think they really make the case for "smoke pot = loserdom." I think they make the case for "guy with talking puppy = tool." I really doubt that anyone sees those and says, "Yeah, pot is lame!"

The anti-pot ads I liked were the ones with the kid talking about how when he smokes weed he just goes and sits on his friend's couch in his basement. And that's it. They don't do anything and life just passes them by. I thought that was honest and probably the closest thing to a convincing argument one was likely to see in a PSA. Although really: does anyone think, "Ooh, marijuana looks so glamorous!" I bet it's more like, "Ooh, marijuana makes my boring suburban life a little funny and helps pass the time." But then, I've never been much for what is (for me) essentially an expensive sleep aid. So perhaps I'm biased. :)

That dog is a tool.

Also, I hate him. And his little flag.

Yeah.

Why do dogs hate pot?

TV is all about dogs hating on stoners these days. There are two ads/PSAs in particular: a "live action" and a cartoon. The live action one doesn't really make sense. I mean, if you think your dog is talking to you, it's not the pot that's the problem - it's whatever the pot is laced with that's the problem. Also: making animals look like they're talking is always a stupid gimmick. And then the cartoon. I HATE those PSAs with the yellow background where the cartoon puppy is like, "You disappoint me," and then goes and raises his lame little flag. (Symbolism, anyone?) I hope those ads are making kids want to smoke pot. And I hope that they think "Fuck that sanctimonious little dog from the TV" as they do it.

Also, can anyone explain to me the sour skittles commercial with the guy hooked up to the milking apparatus? I mean, that is seriously weird.

Read this comic!

Thinkin' Lincoln linked to this comic today - Bear & Kitten. You should read all of it. It's awesome. I'm going to learn Drop Bear Fu.

My degree!

Did you ever wonder what a masters in science from Georgetown looked like? Did you ever wonder what it would look like if poorly photographed? Well now's your chance to find out! Lo- this is that for which I worked so hard and took on so much debt. Bask in its glory!

S&M Jousting?

Last weekend, Pete and I were driving around looking at apartments and houses for rent, when we saw the most curious sight. In the park at SE 21st & Belmont, we saw two men jousting. On super tall unicycles. In what appeared to be S&M gear. Surrounded by a crowd of people. We couldn't get pictures right then because the light turned and I was at completely the wrong angle. But we circled the block and got the following shots. Apparently the guy in the black shorts had won, and the crowd seemed divided as to whether or not this was a good thing. It is so weird to hear people booing in Portland!

The Historian Can Bite My Butt

And lo, my butt is big! 650 pages! I wasted my whole lunch break to read the last 50 today and it was so disappointing. Here is a summary of why it was a total waste of my time, as told in snotty narration as I imagine the author must have conceptualized it:

"I'm going to tell most of the story through letters so that 70% of the book's paragraphs will start with quotation marks! Then I'm going to wait until the last 50 pages to neatly tie up all the loose ends, except for the last 5 pages in which I will pretend like there is the possibility of a sequel even though all the characters are dead, totally squared away or both."

Why did I finish it, you might ask? Yes, why indeed. There are several reasons.

1) I hate to leave a book unfinished. Especially when they're a really easy read. Or I'm trapped on a plane and my only other option is Daredevil. ::shudder::

2) There was only one thing I couldn't figure out. One stupid, stupid plot point that seemed too poorly thought out to go unexplained. It takes too many sentences to explain the actual plot point, but suffice it to say it was along the lines of writing a book about the Greatest Chef's In All Of History and they all happen to be from the same town in the same state and they were all born within 50 years of one another and all end up working in the same restaurant together. That is so patently ridiculous, the author must have an explanation, right? Oh - she does - but that doesn't mean it's a good explanation, or that she'll spell it out before the last 50 pages.

3) At some point, you've looked at a train wreck long enough and you just have to stick around and see if anyone survived.

Anyway, there are only two reasons I would ever recommend this book: you're at the beach (where anything is worth reading because, hey, you're at the beach!) or you're stuck on a plane where your other option is talking to a sweaty old guy with a bad comb-over who keeps looking at your "goodies" or a really fabulous movie like Mrs Doubtfire or the aforementioned Daredevil.

Another Thought About Writing

Here are two things that very few people should ever attempt in novels: genius characters and descriptions of sex. Someone who is not a genius cannot write genius. I think that if I were a writer I might - might - be able to write a side character who was a genius by describing as exactly as possible the two geniuses I've known in my life. (What's that, Pete? Oh, sorry. Three. Three geniuses. Thanks, Pete.) I don't know that I could write that character as saying very much, but I could describe how s/he sat while watching TV or eating steak. But I would never - in a million years! - attempt to write, a) a first-person novel about a genius, or b) a novel where one of the main, speaking characters is a genius. This is one of my major criticisms of The Di Vinci Code: there wasn't a single "puzzle" in that book that was in the least bit difficult to solve. And yet the characters - one of whom is a genius cryptographer, the best in France!, and another of whom is a genius "symbologist" ::grumblegnashhiss&spit:: - were totally mystified! Here is the deal, Authors Of The World: if you are not a genius (and please, seek outside verification on this, and not from your mother), and you can figure out the solution to a puzzle you have created, then Q.E.D., it does not take a genius to figure it out. And it's insulting to your reader to imply as much!

And the sex thing... I cannot think of a single book in which I've read a really detailed sex scene and thought, "Man, now this is art!" But I can think of plenty of times when I've thought, "Man, now this is embarrassing!" Here are the books that spring immediately to mind where this phenomenon is concerned: Clan of the Cave Bear, Jean M. Auel (and any of the sequels, for that matter; I've heard Plans of Passage is essentially pornography, but I couldn't even make it through The Mammoth Hunters); and The Mists of Avalon, Marion Bradley (and any of the sequels or prequels). If you have read a truly beautifully written sex scene in a book, please suggest it! But if tongues swirl anatomy in moist detail or ladies that are just deep enough for their lovers' giant johnsons, I will seriously question your taste.

::sigh::

The book I'm currently reading (The Historian) violates both of these precepts (or "fiats," if you prefer). There are no puzzles, but the side characters make very prosaic observations about things historical and the main character frequently comments on how he is "astounded" by the "quickness" of someone's mind, the "breadth" of their "intellect," or their "genius." And while one reference to a sex scene is very tasteful - more like a movie montage of provocative images - the other is a pseudo-sex scene (in that sex doesn't actually result) and involves "adolescent fumbling" and an "ugly white brassier." I mean really! It just leads me to believe that the author has never actually had sex and has never seen a movie with a rating higher than PG-13. And that makes it embarrassing, the way fan fiction is embarrassing. It's like a window into how she wishes her 16-year old life had been, or how her first time with her True Love had been/would be. And I don't need that window, because it's not an autobiography; it's a work of fiction with sci-fi/fantasy overtones that seriously stretches the limits of my suspension of disbelief.

Anyway, The Historian is like 600 pages long, I'm on page 444 and I've just been tearing through it (because the story is more interesting than the writing is bad/embarrassing, even if it's a stretch) so I've been thinking about this a lot. I have a high tolerance for crap: I read all but one of the Ender's Game sequels. (If that offends you, I... wait, no. I don't apologize. If that offends you, you enjoy bad novels. Sorry, but I'm pretty sure this is empirical truth. Okay, okay... Ender's Shadow wasn't so bad. Geez!) And I read a ton of Star Wars novels and a lot of fantasy novels, and let's face it, many of the latter are soft core for geeky adolescent girls. "I am a witch who rides a unicorn - don't fondle my heaving boozums, Mister Night Elf! Oh, your tumescent manhood - I mean elfhood - is too much for me! Make me a woman, sexy mythical creature! Take me now, before my unicorn gores you!"

English Slang and American Weirdness

I've been reading "Scary Go Round" from the beginning, and I've learned some new British slang. Well, new to me anyway.

• Skellington: variant of "skeleton." Pete pointed out it's also in the Cream song about the baby going down the drain. That song is awesome!
  
• Trumps: farts.
• Tupping: frickin'
• Smalls: undergarments

"Skellington" is by far my favorite. Normally it's Americans adding extra sounds and syllables into English words ("burglarize" instead of "burgle," "Acclimatize" instead of "Acclimate", "Orientate" instead of "Orient"... there are other examples here and here - although it seems that some of the examples at those links are of British legthenings).

I've also been reading this great book about word origins that has some really wonderful, oft forgotten American words.

• Hornswoggle: origin unknown. But it belongs to a group of "fancified" words invented in the American West to poke fun at the sophisticated. Why can't our anti-intellectuals invent words these days instead of "Blue Collar Comedy"? The next three are also examples of this.
  
• Absquatulate: "to depart in a hurry." Faux-Latin affixes: ab- "away from;" -ate "to act upon in a specified manner." All around the made-up root -squatul-. Literally meaning: to squat away from. Hilarious!
  
• Busticate: "to break into pieces."
  
• Argufy: "to argue."
• Buckaroo: from the Spanish "vaquero," or "cowboy." Interestingly, we got the word "cowboy" from translating "vaquero," and "buckaroo" from mispronouncing it!
• Hosey: dibs. (Bostonian) Maybe from "call holdsies," maybe from the French "choisir," "to choose." But "I hosey shotgun!" is pretty neato.
  

There are others from that book, but I can't remember them. Also a neat word:

• Grampus: kind of big fish in cold water. Also, an orc.

In fact, looking up "orc" to see if Pete could use it in Boggle is how we found the word Grampus.

::snicker:: grampus...

Things in books that are lame

Hey, I remembered (all on my own!) what I wanted to blog about last night: Things That Bad Authors ::couDANBROWNgh:: Do That Both Drive Me Nuts And DEFINITIVELY PROVE That He Or She Is A Bad Author. See, this is why this wasn't the title of this post; I was feeling very strident about it last night. So I invite you, the reader!, to comment and add to the list the things that frost your cookies when it comes to bad writing. But here is my list (so far), and please to note the asterisks indicating the "stylistic manoeuvres" employed in "The DaVinci Code." (God I hated that book.)

• *People don't speak, say or tell nearly as often as they "grin." ::aaaARRGgggh::
  
• *Eyes are always twinkling.
• *Everyone speaks English.
  
• INTENSIFIER: *****!There is a stupid, contrived reason as to why non-English speaking characters are speaking English.
• [This one is actually Pete's, but I whole-heartedly agree.] Non-native English speakers say everything in English, except for "yes" and "no" which they say in their native tongue. Da, darlink.
• Oblique cultural references meant to let you know how smart the author is. (Dan Brown probably did this too, but I was so incensed by all the eye-twinkling and grinning with French accents that I didn't notice at the time.) For example, in a book that talks about Dracula, it isn't enough to point out that the movie version might not be an accurate historical representation of Vlad The Impaler, it has to be the Bela Lugosi version. Specifically.
• Settings that come with a full, contextual set of obligatory actions (like restaurants: waiting, ordering, sitting, eating, drinking, waiting, paying, tipping, leaving) that are completely ignored. For example: characters arrive at a restaurant and are somehow seated without ever seeing a waiter, and their food arrives without ever ordering, all the while they're having an uninterrupted conversation, and then they pause to eat a single bite of food, a couple more lines of dialog, and suddenly they're helping each other put their coats on and leaving. If your characters converse throughout a meal, and you record all of the conversation for the reader, then it better actually be a meal's worth of talkin'. Please to note: J. K. Rowling does not make this mistake. When her characters leave a meal midway through, they're hungry later. If they fight, but finish their food, she lets you know that they finished their meal in awkward silence.
  
• Over-the-top oddballness as a proxy for intelligence or a good up-bringing. Characters who proclaim that they never went out as teenagers because they grew up in the Orient with their diplomat/archaeologist/ninja parents, but they were never interested in that sort of thing anyway. Because the children of bankers and postal workers are always dull and uninteresting.
  

Okay, your turn!

Yes, I suck at blogging

I know, I know, I should post more often. Or ever. Baby steps, Sydney. But I have gotten super busy at work and super lazy at home. I have so many things I've been meaning to blog about... Off the top of my head, all I can come up with is:
READ "THE BLIND SIDE" BY MICHAEL LEWIS! OR PERISH!
But that's less because I so intensely want to blog about how AWESOME that book is and more because that book is so intensely AWESOME I keep bringing it up, even in totally inappropriate contexts. "You know Gramma, your desire to hold onto all of your old crap is just like Bill Parcell's desire to hold onto his stupid belief that the real key to football is all in the brawn and not in the strategy." Gramma says, "I hope Atlanta doesn't beat up on my Braves too badly... I hate Atlanta..." Yes, it's a football book. And yes, I loved it, so other non-sports people, you have to read it too. OR PERISH!
Also, Pete is worse than useless when it comes to remembering things that I wanted to blog about. It's almost like he's not actually in my head at all. This is good to know, as we are planning to get married this summer. I'm pretty sure that shouldn't be in my vows, though: "To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, whether you remember what I want to blog about or not..."
So that is why I have not posted anything. I've been working. And lazy. And did I mention being lazy? Because that's really the crux of the problem. Perhaps when Pete and I get our own place, and I have a desk again, I will be better about posting. Because then the lazy won't be amplified by the inferno-like heat of my computer melting my lap.