Tuesday, October 18    

Slice of life
Do you people think it's easy blogging all the time? Do you think writing about the trivial minutiae of one's life just flows onto the page like ... like a really good metaphor would fit right here? No. Blogging is hard work. I want to serve you a slice of life, but instead I'm giving you a Slice of Pink. Because, dammit, I like pink. There. I admitted it. (And this after I was called "the closest thing to a man" without being one tonight. And I tried to take it as a compliment, and not a "Damn, Garrett, you look like a linebacker" moment.) Now, where was I? Right. Pink.

As we all know, women can't leave the house without doing their hair (even though I always do). Why? Because they could run into students or worse, hairdressers, whilst out in the wide world. But it doesn't matter that she was seen by all manner of people with undone hair, because girl is a master at Scrabble. (I suck at Scrabble. I grovel at her feet.) Also, she recognizes the importance of having a favorite pen and writing about it on one's blog: "I am fully aware that nobody wants to hear the story of a pen because pens are very boring and unimportant, but I am going to tell you the story of the pen anyway because ... everything else I write about is boring and trivial so why try and get all significant and important now."

I promise I will never try to get all significant and important, people. I do this for you.

  posted @ 8:39 PM |

 

It's covered
The American Society of Magazine Editors issued its list of the 40 best covers of the last 40 years. The Rolling Stone cover with a naked John Lennon wrapped around Yoko got top honors, and I can't say I disagree. What I don't understand, however, is how my cover got the shaft. C'mon, it would have made an excellent #40.

  posted @ 10:10 AM |

Monday, October 17    

With her fog, her amphetamine and her pearls
I forget sometimes how cool it is to be part of a college campus. I went to a lecture on Bob Dylan and misogyny tonight, given by Christopher Ricks, and it was, quite simply, wonderful. Ricks is so freaking smart, and he analyzes Dylan like he's Keats or TS Eliot or some other extremely worthy poet, which you know I appreciate. He focused on Blonde on Blonde (though the Freewheelin' Bob Dylan is my favorite). Ricks never really answered the question of whether or not Dylan's songs were misogynistic, though I got the feeling he didn't think so. And then I remembered from college that it was the questioning that was important, not the answer. I sat in an auditorium tonight, listening to Dylan and trying to determine whether "Just Like a Woman" was an embarrassment for him. It never even occurred to me that people wouldn't like that song. I always thought of it as it a lament over a woman who had hurt him, and the notion that she "aches just like a woman/but she breaks just like a little girl" seemed more true than anything. (Any time I break, I feel just like a little girl.) It was really nice to just think. I've got to do that more often.

  posted @ 6:51 PM |

 

Stripped down
Today's blog: Words, a blog with stuff.

Why? "Not Sunbeam. She told me she loved me." (Seriously, if I could stop cackling like a maniac over that post, I'd write more. Okay, one more word: Fire.)

  posted @ 5:52 PM |

Sunday, October 16    

Bowling's Miss Manners
I went bowling with Leigh and Jeremy and Rache and David last night (yeah, I love being the single girl) at Lanes and Games. We played 10 pin because candlepin sucks. (And I suck at candlepin. Okay, I suck at 10 pin, too, but I like it anyway.) That's not the point; the point is this: There are rules, people. Or at least, common courtesy. Rule number 1: If I take the time and effort to carefully select a ball with the appropriate weight and finger holes that are not ginormous, you do not use my ball, you overly peroxided twit. Rule number 2: Do not bowl at the same time I do! If I step up to the line first and have clearly indicated that I'm going to begin my three-step, arm-back "I'm really going to throw it now" move, you do not jump up and throw first. You DO NOT, you screaming-monkey freak. (That's the other thing. I know we're all drinking here, people, but there is no need to jump up and down like an idiot. It's bowling, not the Olympics.)

If we adhere to these simple rules, I think we will all appreciate the bowling experience much more. Although nothing could really diminish my appreciation of Jeremy sneaking up behind Leigh and yelling in her ear just before she threw to try to get the spare. Needless to say, the spare was not achieved. Sportsmanship? What's that?

  posted @ 5:06 PM |

 

Picture this
I went to see the Ansel Adams exhibit yesterday, and I know I'm usually a word girl, but today I'm going for pictures instead: brownglasses.com, showcasing the photographs of Rachel Adams, an American in the Netherlands. I like this one, and this one, and this one, but check out the archives yourself.

  posted @ 4:16 PM |

Saturday, October 15    

No tips. No tips of any kind.
To be a waitress is a hard thing. Because, let's face it, people are crazy. And they are super crazy when they are hungry. Take my friend Rachel, for instance. Normally, a very sweet girl. Tonight, she didn't get her burger in a timely fashion, and she got a little cranky. Girl needed some food and how. Luckily, our waitress was cool and mocked Rache instead of killing her (when the Rache was out of earshot, of course).

It's dealing with crazy bitches like us that fuels Jackie over at 86 Tips. Pay careful attention to the code of conduct. And please, whatever you do, don't stiff your server. And while the restaurant commentary is great, it's the regular stuff that kills me, because, I, too, believe that folding my laundry counts as foreplay.

  posted @ 8:53 PM |

Friday, October 14    

Wild geese that fly with the moon on their wing
For some reason, I've been thinking about my favorite thing, but not my actual favorite thing (like my autographed copy of That Takes Ovaries! or my WNBA Barbie). No, I've been trying to figure out what my favorite thing about myself is. You know, like, why someone should like me. Intelligence? Not likely. Stunning good lucks? A little superficial, perhaps. And now I've decided: My favorite thing is the way I watch sports. Give me 20 minutes with a sporting event -- any sporting event, not just the ones I care about -- and I will go batshit insane over what's going on. I will have picked a side. I will call into question any judging/umping/reffing that goes on. I will have made derisive comments about someone's mother. I'll turn on a game for background noise, and 20 minutes later, I'll be screaming at the TV, and Jen will come in and say, "I thought you didn't care about this game?" To which I will reply, "I don't."

I'm not quite sure what this says about me as a person, but I feel it's something important. And special.

  posted @ 9:26 PM |

 

World's Best Mutha
Today's blog is White Trash Mom. Because, well, because it's White Trash Mom. It makes me feel like a child again. (Just kidding, Mom.) This site is most excellent because of all the useful tools it provides, like Are you a Muffy? "Being a Muffy is being mean and not being REAL. It's about keeping up a totally bogus and stupid standard of PERFECTION that is unrealistic. It is about not supporting your fellow MOM and being a snob." Don't be a Muffy, people. (Or a Buffy for that matter. It's just a stupid name. Unless you're a Slayer, of course.) Also, they totally stole my mom's cake recipe.

  posted @ 8:45 PM |

Thursday, October 13    

Sweet and tart
Do you know how many blogs are out there? Sure, you're thinking, millions, yada, yada, yada, but seriously, people: Millions. I know, because I feel like I just read about 3,000 looking for one I liked. Luckily, I stumbled across Pink Lemonade Diva. And, no, she's not a writer. She's a copywriter. Shut up, she's good. (Though finding permalinks on her site is like needle, haystack. Damn.)

I don't have much to say, other than the writing is something to savor: "I buried my appreciation, horded it to savor for as long as possible, and hurried past. I was beautiful again: a young girl interrupted from television to muse for her mother; an image's 4th position frame frozen in time with watercolor; my daily routine interrupted by a stranger's stare." Okay, and I can totally appreciate a day spent wrestling with commas.

  posted @ 7:58 PM |

Wednesday, October 12    

Warning: Girl ahead
I got sick today, that kind of random sick-out-of-nowhere experience that just knocks you back. Or down. (Side note: Why is the bathroom floor so comforting when you're sick?) I hate getting sick. I'm not good at it. And it's about the only time when I really, really don't want to be single. I want to be attached so that person has to take care of me. Well, not take care of me exactly, but has to make sympathetic noises and pet my hair and bring me popsicles. Seriously, aside from the bathroom floor thing, the hair-petting craving is the weirdest part of being sick. So, I didn't get my hair stroked, but I did get to watch about four solid hours of Gilmore Girls. And it was almost as good.

  posted @ 7:45 PM |

 

Come fly with me
Sure, we've had writers. A lot of writers. One minister. A few nut jobs. And some more writers. But have we had a flight attendant? I think not. Today, we're flying the friendly skies with Yu Hu Stewardess. Sometimes, this blogging thing is so much fun. Because she's got a sense of humor about her job. And there are sweet perks, the most obvious of which is the great traveling experience. But this fly girl doesn't just hit the highlights; she immerses herself in a place: "I walked the main streets, poking my head into the shops and galleries. I wandered up and down the side streets, doing some people watching and stopping to check out information on some residential vacancies. Although by myself, I felt neither fear, nor reluctance, in immersing myself in the tastes, smells, and feel of the place. I didn’t want to be a visitor to the neighborhood; I wanted to be a part of it."

Any questions? Just ask.

  posted @ 7:19 PM |

Tuesday, October 11    

I am not T-I-M
Okay, so not everyone will get the post title, but those that do: I love you. Today is the big 5-0, and we'll be visiting Tym Blogs Too! I don't have any pithy, smart-ass comments about why I picked this blog; I read it today, and it captured my attention. I read all of it (I didn't cheat and skim for the funny parts), and I like the way she writes. I feel like I have a little window on someone else's life, which is my favorite part of blogging. From geeking out to dining out, it's Tym's life. Plus, she's been blogging forever, and she drinks hot chocolate with the air conditioner on, and I would so totally do the same thing.

  posted @ 6:15 PM |

Monday, October 10    

A long, long way to run

I ran the Tufts 10K for Women today. I have to say, I'm wicked proud of myself. Ask me last year if I'd be running it today? No. Hell, ask me two years ago if I'd be running it today? Bigger no. But there I was, in the rain, running for 6.2 freaking miles. And it was glorious, people.

I was so nervous before the race started -- would I be able to finish? Would I have to walk? Would I trip and make a complete idiot of myself? My goals were low, and none of them involved time. I wanted to finish (upright and without puking), and that was about it. But once it started, I got into the spirit of the event. It was really cool to be running with all these women -- women who'd been running it for the last 29 years (and who were in better shape than me) and high-school girls running with their track team (who, it turns out, weren't necessarily in better shape than me). At one point, the course doubles back, and all of us normal human beings could watch the elite runners go past as we struggled forward. The woman next to me said, "Now that is a beautiful thing." And it was. It was even better when I got to run past the walking Pito and give her the high five -- I swear that kept me going for another mile.

I finished in 1:07:14, which was a lot faster than I anticipated. Pam was cheering us all from the finish line -- joined by Jen, and Candace and Stephanie once they finished. And when I finished, I cheered on Pito (that ACL is healing, girl!). That was the best 6.2 miles I can remember. Same time next year.

Update: My race photo set. More race photos here.

  posted @ 4:11 PM |

 

Home brew
Today's blog is What's Brewin' Down Yonder? S got me pretty easily from the start, just by using "titties" in a post. A post involving children, no less, so double bonus points and a super-sized fry. She has also introduced me to the phrase "Patty Pessimist," so clearly I had to spread her educatin' ways to the masses. In addition, she knows the importance of travel: "Travel also provides lots of time for soul-searching, time that many of us feel guilty taking during an ordinary day at home. I would never just sit on my couch for 3 hours one morning, pondering my life and how I should spend it. But for some reason if you stick me in a deck chair in front of a lighthouse and some mountains, it’s suddenly alright." (Sidenote: If someone wants to stick me in a deck chair with lighthouse, mountains, etc., I'm totally game.)

  posted @ 2:52 PM |

Sunday, October 9    

They're just words, that's all
Today's blog is Words and Things, because I like both words and things. Also, it's important to realize how glorious bubbles are and how they can brighten any day. But, really, it's most important to understand how deeply, deeply wonderful Krispy Kreme donuts are: "This is the way to get your legal work done, people - bribe the lawyers with donuts. Works every time." I also empathize with how quickly free time gets away from you, but if you watch less horrifying reality TV, it might last just a smidge longer.

  posted @ 8:40 PM |

Saturday, October 8    

Perhaps it's time to rethink this
Sure, I've had a few random car encounters over the years -- the minor cone incident, windows falling on my vehicle, etc. -- but I chalked them up to bad car karma. (I inherited it from my mother.) Tonight, whilst driving home in the rain, one of my windshield wipers just ... came off. For no discernible reason. I've had these same wipers for nine months and nary a problem, but tonight, well, it was the end. Luckily, it was the passenger-side wiper, but I'm beginning to think these are signs, people. Signs that I should not be behind the wheel of a car. Or signs that I should never leave my house again. One of those two.

  posted @ 9:20 PM |

 

One more for the road
Maybe I'm not ready to let go of the season yet. Maybe I'm in denial. Maybe I can't handle how far away spring training is. Whatever the reason, today's blog is Singapore Sox Fan. Being a Sox fan is hard enough, but being 12 time zones away and a Sox fan means love and dedication, baby.

Daryl knows his stuff: "David Ortiz makes grown men cry." Grown women, too. But more importantly, he knows that "revenge wears no wristwatch." Wait 'til next year, people. Wait 'til next year.

  posted @ 2:44 PM |

Friday, October 7    

You dance with the one you brought
Unfortunately, it was the last dance tonight. Thanks for a great season, boys, and we'll just forget about how you rolled over for the White Sox, okay? I knew it was over when we couldn't score with the bases loaded and no outs. I cried then, not when the actual last out was recorded, because that was when I knew, without a doubt, that this team was not last year's team, or even the 2003 team. This team was tired and wanted to go home, and so they did. I didn't expect to win it all this year -- I'm a fan, not an idiot -- but, as always, I wanted just one more game. I realized the other day that I'm strung out on baseball from March to October, always looking for one more hit, one more fix. Knowing that it's bad for me and my heart, I press on, another game, another battle, more hope, more, more, more. Now it's over, and I've got all winter to dissect the season, but I don't want to. I just want to look forward to spring training, and more of that fabulous fucking gun, Papelbon, and Papi, and Manny, and whoever else they get to become my boys.

In honor of the better team, today's blog is Relatively Normal, by Sarah, resident White Sox fanatic. Good luck and godspeed, Other Sox.

  posted @ 7:11 PM |

Thursday, October 6    

Attack of the killer blogs
People, we're on day 867 here. Okay, it just feels like that. If I've done the math correctly (which I highly doubt), we're on day 45, which is the perfect day for a Snark Attack. (Actually, every day is the perfect day for a snark attack, but today's the day for this one because I saw it over at Sarah's place. And I like Sarah.)

What I really like, however, is our intrepid blogger's ability to wander all over the place whilst telling a story and cracking me up at the same time: "I was like some tracker in the Old West, only without the chaps and the suspicious horse scent. I was the Searcher of dinner parties." And then she goes on to describe her secrets to poker (or speaking Spanish) as well as a run-in with a friend who is not Allison Janney. I wish I were Allison Janney, 'cause girl is one tall drink of water. (Does everyone want to be tall, or do tall people secretly yearn to be petite? And if you're already tall, do you yearn to be even taller? Like, 6'1" isn't enough, you just know you would be perfect at 6'4"?) Bygones. Anyone who can relate reading Shape and cooking magazines to porn is a winner in my book. Also, she needs an iPod just like I do, so we don't have to listen to ourselves wheezing through our runs like an "adenoidal pug."

  posted @ 8:02 PM |

 

Serenity now
I saw Serenity today, and damn! It was good. Not as good as all 14 episodes of the original series, Firefly, but still a quality movie. Just the right amount of smart and funny with a good deal of ass-whupping and shooting thrown in. It was a little strange to be watching it as a movie, like I didn't already know and love these characters. There were a few moments that didn't ring true with what the series had already done, but nothing egregious. It's definitely a movie that a non-Firefly fan could enjoy. (Of course, why wouldn't you be a Firefly fan? It was a fucking good show. It's up there with Sports Night for best show canceled before its time.) The last thing I will say, without giving any spoilers, is this: Take it back, Joss. Take it back! Pull a Misery if you have to, I don't care. Just fix it.

  posted @ 3:57 PM |

Wednesday, October 5    

Tagged
Today's blog is Anachronic. Why? Because the tagline is "Don't play dumb. We're better at it than you."

Can I just end it at that? Or do I have to explain shit and link like always? Why do I have to hold your hands this way, people? Fine. Read this thoughtful composition on love (which also cracked me up): "Does love really conquer all? I somehow doubt it. But maybe talk is cheap and a real soul connection is what's important. After all, I've only dated English speaking females and eighty percent of the time we weren't successful in talking or communicating in the least." And while you're at it, read this one about talking about sports with strangers. (Though, Jon, honestly, talking about shopping is always boring. I'd much rather bitch about the Sox.)

  posted @ 8:20 PM |

 

Now that really hurt
And Tony Graffanino, I'm coming after you, motherfucker. I don't know what you thought you were doing (picking up where Matt Clement left off?), but if I catch your daquiri-drinking ass fucking up another play like that again, I will kill you myself.

  posted @ 7:52 PM |

 

Searching
Okay, I know we all receive funny queries from Google -- usually involving the words 'goat' and 'fuck' -- but this one is killing me today.

What makes a woman grumpy? Well, apparently, I do.

  posted @ 7:36 AM |

Tuesday, October 4    

More commonly accepted: wise ass or smart ass?
Today's blog is Nobody Sasses a Girl in Glasses, which, while cute, is completely untrue. I get nothing but sass and guff from you people, and you bitches know I can't see for shit.

She's accomplished at swearing, which I like on a good day. And today, lo, today is not a good day, so I need even more vile invective than usual. Luckily, Rita's got plenty. She's also a student, so she talks about shit like Socrates: "He was telling me that I totally missed the point of the Socratic argument in the Protagoras, which was true, and ... he was telling me that I was going to waste my soul by becoming a sophist, which was also probably true." Luckily, she also talks about Buffy, which I understand more. In addition, she may suffer from delusions of sanity: "I am the shining beacon of totally normal in a vast darkness of totally crazy." We'd all like to think that, honey.

  posted @ 6:28 PM |

 

I'm not losing the faith or anything
But fuck! Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Why does Matt Clement like to make girls cry? Why, god, why?

  posted @ 4:48 PM |

Monday, October 3    

Yeah, I take One a Day vitamins, too
In the grand tradition of A Strip a Day and a Photo a Day, today's blog is One Movie a Day. (It's also kind of in the tradition of the 16mm Shrine, but with less midget porn.)

David has undertaken a serious commitment, but he's not backing down. Oh, no. He will review bad movies. He will review good movies. But mostly, he'll just watch a lot of movies and blog about it. And I respect that.

  posted @ 1:25 PM |

 

It's the estrogen
Because it's been too long, I think we should all take a look at my fucking adorable nephew. And sigh, because we don't get to sleep like that anymore. While we're at it, let's take a look at my niece and marvel at the fact that she's freaking 14 years old. I feel appropriately old now, how about you?

(Also, can we take a brief moment and reflect on how much I love Sandra Oh in Grey's Anatomy?)

  posted @ 8:05 AM |

Sunday, October 2    

A home at the end of the world
Or at least the Blog at the End of the Universe. I'm totally wiped out from working all weekend and hoping against hope that the Sox would make the playoffs. They did, and I'm spent. Reading Andrew's blog felt a bit like coming home.

He went to see Serenity, and I'm now officially dying to go. He has a few reasons for blogging, and I find them remarkably similar to mine: "People like to share what they do. Writers want readers, musicians crave an audience, and mimes want to get through the day without getting hit by a brick."

Also, I just think it's funny he described himself using Pink Floyd songs, just like me.

  posted @ 5:08 PM |

Saturday, October 1    

For some reason, I feel like a drink
Maybe it's working all weekend? Nah, couldn't be. And it's definitely not the way the Sox played today. No. Perhaps it's the blog of the day, I'm not a girl, not yet a wino? Well, whatever it is, margaritas are in order.

Kris is just the right amount of antisocial: "Sometimes I don't want to be around people. Actually, a good bit of the time. It is therefore alarmingly clear that my life has the potential to become that of the every-woman who arrives solo to weddings, knows not what to give at a baby shower at age 50, and screens all of her calls, whether they come from blood relatives or blood-thirsty telemarketers." I'm with her except for that baby-shower thing. There's no need to know what to give because you just don't go, for the love of god.

She does know, however, how wonderful a few drinks and the internet can be: "And frankly, I love to sit with a glass (or a few) of white wine at my computer, writing about my day and laughing at all of yours." Of course, if you have a few glasses too many whilst blogging, things can go horribly, horribly awry. Luckily, I never do that. I only drink too much when Sox players are anywhere in the vicinity.

  posted @ 7:14 PM |