****Happy Hallo... Yeah, Whatever
I'm at work, updating archaic software
documentation for our large federal government client. Eeeek!
Ah, to be young again. When I was little, I truly relished in the delightful
scariness of all of Halloween's symbolic connotations, like witches, skeletons,
and snack-sized Mounds bar (oh the horror...coconut). I had no idea that truly
terrifying things like government technology procedure manuals even existed.
****Happy Profitable Quarter
Last night my company celebrated our first profitable quarter by taking a Spirit of Boston Cruise. I went stag, sparing my boyfriend (who worked overtime until 5am anyway) of what I assumed would be an agonizing evening.
When I got there all by myself, I belatedly realized going solo meant saddling a co-worker and their significant other with my presence. As luck would have it, I got in the ticket line behind a funny, gregarious fellow software department worker and his entertaining girlfriend. We wound up sitting together and had good conversation throughout the meal.
The onboard entertainment was surreal. The opening number was "Be Our Guest", and indeed the whole show gave me Disney-flashbacks that were painful because it seemed so out of place. The buffet food was rather unremarkable. We got two free drink tickets. The president and CEO of the company told me I looked lovely. I did (see the picture here of me with co-worker Carla, who for some reason bought the photo and then scanned the photo for me).
****Special Halloween Column: Candy's Dandy
I'm sure no one cares to hear about how my siblings and I gorged ourselves sick on the annual Halloween-Booty Feast that fell recurrently on November 1st. I know everyone who reads my site did the same thing. The concept of Rationing means nothing to most children. The kids who understand that it's logical to consume a few pieces every day so that it lasts longer grow up to be people who are too smart to read my web site. Sorry, it's true.
My favorite was and still is Kit Kats. I would make them last forever by slowly dissected them with my mouth, biting off crispy wafer by crispy wafer. Delicious. My second favorite was and still is the pure, uncut Hershey Bar. One year, a house down the street gave out real-sized Hershey bars and I never forgot it. My brother's favorite was Butterfinger. I forget what my sister liked... I think Snickers and peanut M and Ms. We used to trade candy; my strategy was to get rid of all of the Twizzlers, Good and Plenty's, jawbreakers and other non-chocolate candy and amass as much chocolate as possible.
This site has one of those Candy Personality tests...
In conclusion, I'd like to reiterate
my passion for chocolate. However, I do feel that chocolate ice cream, chocolate
cake, and chocolate pudding are not as great as the respective names imply.
I'm glad trick or treating is not a dying activity. And I publicly apologize
for three years ago when I gave out granola bars because I forgot to buy candy.
This year, I have Peanut Butter Cups.
****A Belated Tribute
Tiki is amazed that I let the death of Rod Roddy pass without comment. I can only say that I was too stunned to formulate the words that the death of such a man necessitates.
Tiki and I met because of The Price of Right. In college, we did a paper together on the Sociological Implications of the Price is Right (yeah, I know). Together and separately, we screened over 20 episodes of the Price is Right in four days. We pretended to hate watching the show, but both secretly relished in it.
Bob Barker is such a schmuck. Barker subtly insults and makes fun of the contestants, who don't notice his condescension because they are hyperventilating over the prospect of winning free crap, or just dumb. And there are a lot of dumb people on the Price is Right, but it's OK. One's consumer savvy makes one win on the show (as well as good Plinko aim). Most people just stare off into the audience with dull stares when confronted with a decision. 90% of the people are grossly unattractive, making them look even dumber when they're jumping around like idiots because they have a chance of winning a car. And Bob, ol' Spay and Neuter, just moves the show along like a smirky patronizing robot.
Rod Roddy, on the other hand, was the good guy. You could hear it in his ebullient voice as he urged people to go on down to Contestant's Row, or as he quickly read prepared descriptions of the prizes. Rod tempered Barker's cool detachness with a voice that conveyed excitement and gaiety. His flamboyant coats offset Barker's mortician-like suits. His face just lit up the screen, as opposed to Barker's dispassionate stare.
Rod Roddy just wanted to have a good time. Rest in Peace, you crazy diamond.
Sidenote: When I was little, I used to call the wrestler Rowdy Roddy Piper "Rod Roddy Piper" out of pure ignorance. And speaking of men in kilts (in case you missed it the first time)...
****Look at Me
Calling all Bostonians: From November 7th to 21st, the Start Gallery @ Wall, 223 Newbury Street will feature exquisite disturbances, photographs by Beth Huerta and Ruhiyyih Comack.
Go. I can't vouch for all of the photographs, but there's a portrait of me and I'm effing gorgeous.
****Americans Think
Here are a sampling of web pages (some several years old) that are returned by Google upon typing "Americans Think"...
****Predictions
An intellectual exercise or a forum for paranoids? www.LongBets.Org lets people make predictions and bets ranging from innocuous social changes ("Music CDs compatible with current (2002) CD players will still be sold regularly in 2015"... yeah, RIGHT) to dire catastrophes ("By 2020, bioterror or bioerror will lead to one million casualties in a single event.")
What's interesting about this site is it costs $50 to make a prediction, meaning that these people aren't doing it for kicks. And the some of the bets have thousands of dollars at stake. And it appears actor Ted Danson is making bets, saying nay to the assertion "The US men's soccer team will win the World Cup before the Red Sox win the World Series."
The site reminded me of "In the Year 2000" bit that Conan O'Brien still does... Check out some of those predictions here.
****Daily Serving of French Fries
According to a study on the eating habits of wee ones under 2 years (commissioned by Gerber), up to a third of these children consumed no fruits or vegetables the day of the survey. And 20 percent of children aged 19 months to 2 years consume french fries once a day. Incredible.
****Home Again
I had a wicked good time in NYC. For some reason, I felt strangely serene amid the bustle. When I first went to NYC about twelve years ago, I thought it was like an angry sore zit that was always on the verge of popping on its own, and the inhabitants had toxic lifestyles, with incessant noise, defensive paranoia, crowding and trash polluting their tired bodies, vice-ridden minds and slurried souls.
This view has waned as I've gotten older and taken more trips there. On Saturday, Amy and I walked through Central Park and indeed most of Manhattan. Boston is much more cramped and dirtier than Manhattan, and even though Manhattan has more people, people are all at ease with the crowdedness. Everyone knows how to act in crowds, whereas in Boston people freak out or get pushy or act rude. Maybe in New York fear is keeping their rage in check, but hey, that works for me.
And everything in NYC, in terms of consumable goods, is cheaper than in Boston. Vegetables, flowers, restaurants, even the seafood is cheaper.
The NYC subway is like an elite marathon runner... the Boston subway is like two habited-nuns in a three-legged race.
And I'm not even going to try to compare any of the parks, common or gardens in Boston to Central Park. That's just cruel.
(A big thanks to Amy, Vincent and Laura for the hospitality)
****New Photos
Look at pictures of my New York trip here.
Look at pictures of my new apartment here.
****Jaded Love
Toni Morrison has a new book out called Love. I'm thinking about getting it and abandoning Anna Karenina , which I've been plowing through for 3 weeks now and I've still got 300 pages to go. I would be cheating on Anna Karenina ... giving that adulterer her a dose of her own bitter medicine.
I have a duty to read Toni Morrison. In college I took an Honors English class on her and read all of her books. Can't quit now. I like Morrison's writing style, though her dalliances with ghosts and magic are distracting and not always effective. Speaking of which, making the movie Beloved is probably the most important cultural contribution made by Oprah Winfrey (who is like Madonna to Morrison's Sandra Bernhard).
I remember sitting in class while we were discussing Song of Solomon, probably my favorite Morrison book. One of the character's names rattled around in my head: Milkman Dead, Milkman Dead...Why, could it be the Punk Rock Pride of suburban Philadelphia, the legendary Dead Milkmen, took their name from a Toni Morrison character?!? (It turns out they did.)
After that theory, I decided to write my final paper on Toni Morrison's character names, and how the personality, actions, fortunes or fate of a character is reflected in the selection of the character's name. Since not even the professor can say for sure how Morrison selects her wacky character's names (Pilate... Guitar... Shadrack... Chicken Little), this proved to be a most effective topic: Select a character with an odd name, banter aimlessly about the connotations of such a name, then tie it all together in one big package of English-major BS (acceptable liberal-guilt-mentality combined with choice selections of the professor's lectures, reworded just enough so it's not plagiarism but the professor can recognize their pearls of wisdom wallowing in the BS). I got an A.
Let's see, according to this excerpt of Love, there's a character with the last name "Gibbons." Hmm... gibbon... isn't that a kind of tailless tree monkey? And another last name is "Cosey". Cozy? Cosby?
So many exciting possibilities. I can't wait to read Love.
Friday October 24, 2003
****Start Spreading the News...
I'm off the take a bite of the Big
Apple this weekend... which means my next entry might not be until Monday.
The HBO show Sex and the City has ruined New York for me. At first, I found
the show amusing, but now Carrie Bradshaw and her bevy of whory friends just
depress and anger me. And the show makes New York seem like this glamorous playground
for self-obsessed yuppies who do nothing but date, shop and eat in over-priced
restaurants while dissecting the dating and shopping in a howlingly depressing
manner.
I don't know, maybe it is like that for people in NYC. What do I know? I live
in Boston and most of the people I know are happily in relationships and/or
concerning themselves with their career or hobbies (Shopping and dating are
not hobbies). Now, when I see a fashionista in NYC, instead of thinking "Wow,
that person must be doing something totally cool with her life" I think "That
person leads a shallow existence that she is trying to fill with clothes."
But I am excited to go to NYC, make no mistake. I'm visiting my oldest friend
Amy, who lives in the very-unglamorous Bronx. I'm taking the very un-glamorous
Fung Wah Chinatown bus, which is $20 roundtrip. We will probably do unglamorous
things like go to museums and tourist attractions, eat pizza and bagels, take
the subway, and have conversations about non-sexy things... activities that
seem outside of Carrie Bradshaw's realm of existence because they don't make
for good television.
Thursday October 23, 2003
****The Sushi Memo
The Sushi Memo has already become
legendary. (View the actual Sushi memo here.)
Many people say that the Sushi memo (meticulously written by a paralegal for
a senior member of her law firm, who asked that she research sushi restaurants
in the area) typifies the unreasonable demands that some executives make, and
shows the immense pressure that underlyings are under to perform well, even
given the most trivial of tasks.
Whatever. The Senior Partner probably asked the paralegal to research the sushi
options in the area... not an unreasonable request, given that A-She was probably
too busy to do it herself, B-The Freshness of one's sushi is a legitimate health
concern, and C-The lawyer could want to bring sushi in at a business lunch.
The paralegal, obviously very good at what she does, might have been insulted
at this task, and therefore put the results of her sushi research in the memo
format (with footnotes and exhibits) as a subtle way of chiding the lawyer for
concerning her with such menial assignments. Or the paralegal has a good sense
of humor, and thought it would be funny. Or the paralegal is a freak who doesn't
know when to quit.
Either way, if the paralegal is competent, it probably took her two hours, tops
to put the memo together, and it was probably a fun assignment. The societal
implications of the sushi memo are being blown way out of proportion.
Wednesday October 22, 2003
****Quote
"Why the f*** do you think I wear it?"
-- Joan Crawford, after receiving a compliment from Leonard Spiegelgas on how a particular red hat made her face radiant.
Tuesday October 21, 2003
****Easy Bake is Trying to Kill Little Girls
Hey, you. Lay off the Easy Bake for awhile. It can cause severe allergic reactions.
I knew a guy named Easy Bake once.
Has anyone actually eaten Easy Bake oven goods? I recall making something in an Easy Bake oven at a friend's house when I was a wee one... but the friend's mother confiscated the baked good and replaced it with something else. We were trying to make a cake and cookies came out instead. The mother denied it, but she was lying.
Monday October 20, 2003
****It's a Girl!!
Gwen from NYC swears that
Peaches (see October 7) is all woman... but she thinks my confusion is not only
understandable, but "the whole point. The audience can't tell if its male or
female but they can tell its sexy."
I remember in college, a male friend confessed to me that he was absently checking
out a nicely-formed, heart-shaped rear end... and then he realized it was the
rear end of Billy, a notorious drag queen. The incident provoked very unsettling
feelings for my friend as he grappled with the notion that, for a split second,
he lusted after a man. I guess Peaches is unique for forcing a world-wide audience
to deal with similar confusion.
****Where have you gone, Antoine Walker?
Antoine Walker, co-captain of the Boston Celtics, the 3-point cowboy, inventor of the Wiggle, the second-leading team scorer, the heart and soul of the squad, and my most-beloved Celtic, has been traded to the Dallas Mavericks.
I don't ever curse on this site,
but what kind of SHIT is this? To paraphrase Arnold the Governor (as I quoted
him on September 29), I oppose this decision and I call upon Danny Ainge to
immediately reconsider and reverse it.
Sure, Walker sort of dropped the ball (har har) in the Playoffs last year, and
sure he collected the most technical fouls out of any player in the NBA (23),
but that doesn't mean he should be traded. A few off games and he gets sent
to Texas? He won't last there! He sweats like a pig doing aerobics!
Walker is only 27. His main weakness as a player is making poorly-planned shots (especially in the three-point range) and the whole technical foul thing. I have no doubt that in the next few years, he will mature as a player and become one of the Greats. And Boston will go on to suffer another curse... The Curse of the Wiggler: We will never again have a Celtic who is as entertaining and charismatic on the court as Walker. And then we will all become Nets fans.
Apparently Danny Ainge felt that just getting rid of Walker wasn't stupid enough, because he also traded Tony Delk, who got the Celtics out of more than one point-rut last season. Wahhh! At least I can take comfort that we still have Tony Battie and Walter McCartney, and His Highness Paul Pierce. The Celts get Raef LaFrentz ( a center who shares my birthday!), Jiri Welsh and Chris Mills in return.
Two white guys? On the Celtics? You mean, like, playing?
****Useless Fact
In addition to Raef LaFrentz (see above), another person in the news today who shares my birthday of May 29 is Nathaniel Heatwole, that nutty college student who hid box cutters on airplanes five months ago:
The bags contained box cutters, modeling clay simulated to look like plastic explosives, matches and bleach hidden in sunscreen bottles. Inside were notes with details about when and where the items were carried aboard. They were signed ''3891925,'' which is the reverse of Heatwole's birthday: 5/29/1983.
I think what he is doing may be scary and he may go to prison for 10 years, but his intentions are admirable. I don't think the FBI will see it like that.
Sunday October 19, 2003
****Fogg-y Art
Yesterday I went to the Fogg Art Museum at Harvard University, which is about a 12 minute bike ride (down the treacherously-paved Cambridge Street) from my apartment.
I saw lots of Virgin Mary/Baby Jesus paintings and chapel installations. In all of them, the Baby Jesus looks like a freak-show obese baby, like talk shows used to parade around. I know the Baby Jesus is depicted this way for aesthetic and practical reasons, but it was still jarring (hey, I'm not art scholar! You're not going to get any high-brow art talk on this site.)
Let's see, I saw some Picasso, Renoir, Matisse, Hans Hoffman, Jasper Jones, and a lot of men who devoted their lives to glorifying an obese Baby Jesus. My favorites: Diana on a Chase by Washington Allston and Geraniums by Henri Matisse.
****Lester Bangs
Choosing an author to designate as one's favorite is tricky business. People who read are akin to confirmed bachelors who date a lot. I can't settle on one writer, that would be boring. When I like an author, I'll read some or all of their work, but eventually, I'll move on.
When someone asks me who my favorite author is (as is apt to happen after I reveal I majored in English), I pull out one of my standards, depending on who I think the person will recognize and relate to: Jane Austen, Raymond Carver, Kurt Vonnegut, Neal Stephenson, Leo Tolstoy, or Phillip Roth are some of my most memorable dalliances.
I had this mean little affair with Tom Robbins once, but after I read all of his books in about a month, I rued the day I first read him.
But, I almost never name the man whose sweet words I've been savoring since I was a tender 12-year old: Lester Bangs. In my eyes, he's America's most original 20th century writer, though the bulk of his work consists of record reviews for Rolling Stone and Creem magazine.
When I was 12, I found Psychotic Reactions and Carburetor Dung in the $1.98 book bin at Walden Books. Something made me buy it. I read and re-read every record review and vignette, marveling at the crazed buzz his writing style carried. He would just babble and babble about something totally unrelated to the music in question, but it didn't matter because anything he wrote was a billion times more interesting than the music.
At that point in my young life, when I realized that I was a verbal child at core (to cull a phrase from Bangs), I read because I wanted to hear a good story. Bangs was the first writer who I read because his words and the way he assembled them inspired me. Because I lacked the life experience to be able to write a novel, the fact that he choose to express his genius through short record reviews made quite an impression on me.
Bangs (who died in 1982) has enjoyed a surge of popularity. The movie Almost Famous featured him as portrayed by Phillip Seymour Hoffman. His excellent biography, "Let it Blurt", came out a few years ago and a new collection of his material was just released (which I read about, strangely, on Cnn.com). And, on Amazon.com, used copies of Psychotic Reactions are going for an amazing $10.98! I'm glad, for so many reasons, that I picked up his book from the $1.98 bargain bin.
So, it all comes down to this: Lester Bangs is my back-door man. When times get rough with an 800-paged Thomas Pynchon, Don Delillo, or Leo Tolstoy... Bangs is always there for a quickie two-paged record review that leaves me refreshed and confident that the ability to tell a story over hundreds of pages isn't a prerequisite for a talented writer.
Saturday October 18, 2003
****Lost in Somerville
Today I was waiting for a bus to Davis Square at Lechmere station. The bus I was waiting for (#88) was 20 minutes overdue. The #87 bus pulled up. Since that bus was also Somerville-bound, I asked the driver if he went anywhere near Davis Square. He said yes, and that it was a walk-able distance, so I got on.
The driver let me off at Union Square and gave me vague directions on how to walk to Davis Square. Maybe the boredom and monotony of being an MBTA bus driver makes him bitter enough to give out wrong directions to young women, because I found out later that he left me off nowhere near Davis Square. I walked around Somerville for an hour before I got to Davis Square.
But today is a wonderful fall New England day, and I walked through quiet upper middle-class parts of Somerville with lovely old houses, churches, and armories. The air was chilled and smelled of fallen leaves. People walked their dogs, neighbors chatted in the sidewalks and men loitered outside of the corner stores with coffee and cigarettes. One man smiled at me and said "Hiya sweethaaaart." It felt good to soak another neighborhood's peaceful Saturday morning.
Friday October 17, 2003
****More Glitter
Several people have told me that my Gary Glitter gaffe (see October 14) wasn't that bad. Thanks, but yes, it was.
Speaking of Glitter, the movie called Glitter , with Mariah Carey, is on HBO right now and it's so unbelievably bad that I can't stop watching it. And Mariah's web site is so bad that I've been engrossed in it for fifteen minutes. The "Mariahisms" are so benignly weird and strange. What the heck is a Mariahism, you may ask? It's like a dictionary to Mariah's slang. Like:
DRAMA: Basically, meaning a whole bunch of "nonsense" and a big "mess."
DRAMATICKING: The verb describing the action of drama
EAT, DRINK, DANCE, WHATEVER: Mariah’s way of stating that people are free to do what they like.
OH DEAR: Used when at a loss for words. It's basically a safe haven - you may choose to add a quick vibrato on the end of 'dear' depending on how deep the situation is.
WHY?: Said in a rhetorical sense as if asking "Why me? What did I do to deserve this?" Meant to be comical.
Wow, it's like she's speaking a whole different language!
****Last Entry about Baseball, I promise
I watched the game last night. I've been saying all along that the Red Sox wouldn't beat the Yankees because I had this feeling that they wouldn't.
But last night, during Game Seven of the Pennant Push, when the Red Sox were up 5-2 before the disastrous eighth inning, I admit it: I really, really thought they were going to win.
And, thinking of all the Red Sox fans who were waiting so long for this, thinking of how much I hate the Yankees and Yankees fans for loving a team that is chiefly powered by money, not raw soul... I was glad.
The more you believe, the more you will disappointed. Since I hate baseball, I can get over it (I already am!) but I truly grieve for all the die-hard fans out there who believed.
Wednesday October 15, 2003
****Overheard
Today on the subway I heard a woman say that she is playing "email tag" with so-and-so. I've heard that term before and it makes me angry. What the heck does that mean??? Email tag? Does that mean she emails so-and-so, then so-and-so emails her back, then she emails so-and-so...? Isn't that just high-tech jargon meaning... email?
****Movie Review: Kill Bill Volume 1
Last night I saw Kill Bill Volume 1. Yes, watching baseball just wasn't violent enough.
I like Quentin Tarentino. Reservoir Dogs was exciting, new, gory, thought-provoking and had meaning. In college, I pursued a boy for three years... originally because he had a Reservoir Dogs tattoo. Pulp Fiction was even better, and Jackie Brown was brilliant.
It's annoying that a movie director who has only done 5 full-length features (that's including Kill Bill Vol 1 and Vol 2) in about 10 years is this Hollywood mega-star... but there is a certain quality to them that is uniquely his own. I'm all for originality in Hollywood, even if it comes in the form of violent, exploitative movies.
In Kill Bill, the violence carried comical overtones at times (call me desensitized to movie violence, but it's hard to watch a person have their head or arm lobbed off without feeling simultaneously disgusted and amused). Kill Bill has violence, comedy, gore, fight scenes, music, motorcycles, Texas rednecks and Japanese mobsters, cartoons, drama, and a wee bit of mystery. It moved fast 90% of the time and never bored me.
What did it lack? Why am I not simply raving about this movie? Because it's missing something... MEANING, I guess. It wasn't thought-provoking in the way his other three movies were, how they seemed to be stating something universal about the human condition... mostly about greed. The big idea that Kill Bill tackles is revenge. What about it, though? That it's good? That it's best served cold? That sometimes it's hard and you have to face an army of Japanese swordsman to get it? Not that Tarentino's obliged to be make DEEP movies... but if I wanted to see mindless violence, I have thousands of movies to choose from.
Tuesday October 14, 2003
****War!
Yeah, I watched some of Game 4 last night. Was hoping for more hits that didn't involve bats and balls, if you know what I mean! But, the players restrained themselves, which is more than I can say for the FOX network. Before the game, they showed this hilarious montage of still photos from the eventful Game 3 with "Night on Witch Mountain" playing in the background.
This article in today's Globe talks about how the testosterone levels of sports fans (yes, even the couch potatoes at home) become elevated. "People feel victorious themselves by basking in the reflected glory of others... If your surrogate warriors win a battle, you feel like you are personally better than a member of the tribe that lost." I like that phrase, "surrogate warriors." It's not baseball anymore... it's war.
****Foot in Mouth
Today I got on the elevator at work to go for my 10-minute lunchtime speedwalk. A very prominent person at my company was already on it. After we greeted one another and the doors closed, the person said "You know, I've had that Gary Glitter song stuck in my head all day" and proceeded to hum the distinctive opening guitar riff for "Rock and Roll Part 2", a song I know WAY too well.
I laughed appreciately, and said "That must make life interesting!" with a twinge of sympathy and understanding in my voice.
Perfectly normal social interaction, right? Should've stopped there, or shared one of my "Stuck in my head" songs, or said anything but what I said:
"Did you hear Gary Glitter was arrested for downloading gay kiddie porn?"
Jeez. No matter WHAT the context or how appropriate it may seem at the time, never say the words "Gay Kiddie Porn" at work.
It really kills a conversation.
The VIP looked at me strangely, and said "Well that really drove the song right out of my head!" Yeah, because now the VIP is too busy thinking what a weirdo I am. "Oh good," I said meekly. Because that was my intention.
****Men in Skirts
Heh, my friend sends me a picture of him in a kilt and expects I won't put it on my web site?
I link to pictures of six-legged cows! Obviously I have a fondness for the freaky!
Monday October 13, 2003
****Happy Columbus Day
Of course, it would be a much happier Columbus Day if I didn't have work. It's like I'm freaking Bob Cratchit.
At least the commute is smooth and I don't have to deal with the Tuesday morning after a three day weekend. Those are brutal.
****Quickies
Learn the secrets of achieving happiness here (why the article features a picture of actress Kate Hudson is still a mystery.)
Look at a six-legged cow here.
Learn why little Jane and Jack won't eat their broccoli here.
Look at newborn baby red panda triplets here.
Learn how to avoid being taken in by a Quack here.
And finally, learn all about feral children here (you know, children who are raised by wolves... kinda like child actors, but with bad hygiene.)
Sunday October 12, 2003
****Don Zimmer Gonna Knock You Out
Last night during the Red Sox/Yankees Game 3, the players were not content to let their fans have all of the fun with Meaningless Violence. Read about it here. Or here. Or here. Isn't it interesting how baseball, the sport often used metaphorically and as a symbol for the hard-working/determined/innocent way of American life, is provoking all of this violence, rivalry, and pettiness?
As Martinez stood off to the side of home plate ... he turned and witnessed a stunning and truly ludicrous sight: Don Zimmer, the 72-year-old former Red Sox skipper, charging toward him. Martinez grabbed Zimmer by the neck and threw him to the ground. Zimmer landed headfirst in the dirt....
Very surreal: A huge, fat old guy lunging at the best pitcher in baseball. What made him think that would be a good move? According to the Baseball Library, the "scrappy" Zimmer was leading the American Association with 23 HR and 63 RBI on July 7, 1953 when he was hit in the head by a Jim Kirk pitch. He was unconscious for almost two weeks, lost his speech for six, and dropped 44 lbs. Inserted in his head were four "buttons...like tapered corkscrews in a bottle."
Maybe one of his screws came loose last night. Har har!
Whatever. I just want to Yankees to hurry up and win the series so the Boston media can go back to reporting real news.
****Bored?
I randomly found this article, Being Black at Bob Jones U. The race aspect of the article is interesting, but I found the details of life in general at this school to be fascinating...
Only boys can attend ministry classes... while girls who are so inclined must content themselves with such classes as The Minister’s Wife and Women in Christian Service. Boys also enjoy privileges that girls do not, such as being allowed off campus without having to sign out. Boys can wear shorts when they play intramural sports, but girls have to wear long sweats. The pool, gymnasiums, and dark places like the planetarium are segregated by sex. The handbook states that magazines such as Esquire, GQ, Premiere, and a bunch of others “are almost entirely without redeeming qualities.” They are off limits, as are jazz, country, folk, and even praise and worship music. Between the restrictions on sex, drinking, bed-time (11 p.m. lights out), music, clothing, and media, students live in a prolonged pre-adolescent limbo.
Saturday October 11, 2003
****More Riotous Fun
Wow. Check out UMass Drunks, especially if you're an alumnae. Some good pictures of the recent riots... it really brings me back to my college days (read about my UMass riots). Good to see students at my beloved alma mater are exploring their hobbies to the fullest and maintaining web pages to tell the world about it. The write-ups section is amazing, and there's a conversation with Whitey Bulger. Yeah, really.
All this talk about rioting... Read this interview with a UMass Amherst professor Jack Tager, in which he describes why Boston is a riot-prone city. He seems to maintain that NYC isn't as riot prone, but read this article about the 1977 blackout and the effect on Bushwick, Brooklyn. (Access to this site requires free registration, but access to this article is only free for the next week, I believe.) It's just incredible the devastation that angry mobs can cause.
****Radioactive meaning "Batshit Insane"
At the Manchester Airport in New Hampshire, a woman claiming to be radioactive ploughed her car through some gates and got 800 feet away from Air Force One, which was waiting for GW Bush's arrival (read about it here).
As SWAT teams armed with automatic weapons swarmed around the woman... shocked onlookers began shouting, ``Shoot her!'' No shots were fired - perhaps because bystanders were in the line of fire, Conery said. ``I think the police and the Secret Service showed an awful lot of restraint,'' he said. A source close to the investigation said the woman threatened police, saying she was ``radioactive.''
Jiminy jillikers, Radioactive Woman!
Thank goodness they caught her before she irradiated the president!
Thursday October 9, 2003
****Riots over Red Sox
The recent Red Sox wins are inciting riots at UMass Amherst (read here).
Rioting... been there, haven't done that. Read my accounts of the three UMass riots that occurred my Freshman year of college.
****Chop Chop: Update
I was early for my appointment
at the hair salon on Newbury Street yesterday, so I walked around and looked
at the fashionable boutiques, sustaining the courage I managed to muster to
chop off my hair. I walked past gorgeous slim women with silky, shiny long hair...
and gorgeous slim women with lively curly long hair... and many fat dumpy tourists
with dull, short hair.
Still, I remained resolute. The hair must go! I marched into the salon and got
my hair washed (when you get shampooed, the chairs massage your entire body!)
The hair dresser, a young blond who flattered me way too excessively, listened
to me explain that I wanted it short. I showed her the length, she nodded and
nodded, and I put my hair entirely in her scissors.
So what does she do? She takes off about three inches and says "we don't want
to do anything drastic." Wait... I did! She said I can come back, free of charge,
if I want it shorter. I basically got a really-expensive trim.
Though I can go back, free of charge, and finish it off... I don't know if I
can get the courage to do that. Eek. The courage has been deflated. She obviously
didn't think a short cut would suit me.
Maybe in a couple months I'll go someplace else. I have yet to commit to a hairdresser
in Boston. I can't stand the way they feel the need to force flattery and small
talk on you. If I start seeing one regularly, small-talk will hopefully develop
naturally. Said the girl yesterday: Oh, you're hilarious! after I explained
why I couldn't bring myself to watch Red Sox games anymore. Then: Oh, but anything
we do, you'll still look gorgeous! You'll look sexy!
I hate that because it's motivated by tips. I feel like I'm paying to be complimented.
And I haven't sunk to that level yet.
Wednesday October 8, 2003
****Chop Chop
After several years of trying out
life as a flowingly-tressed long-haired person... today I am going back to my
roots. We're talking hair butchery here.
It's scary for a woman to get her hair cut short. I'm planning to get a little
funky with it, too. I look around the Finanical District and all I see are women
with shoulder-length or longer hair. Will I look younger or, equally as bad,
older? Will people at work react to me differently because it may be perceived
as unprofessional? Will my boyfriend realize that's it's the abudance of hair
that made me so deliciously attractive? Will it look bad and take years to grow
back? And, my worse fear... what if I get mistaken for a man?
But, I'm looking past these fears and focusing on why I need to cut my hair.
First and foremost, I look good with short hair (or, at least I did when I was
a teenager). Secondly, I need a change. Thirdly, the shampoo-blow dry-curling
iron regime is ravaging my hair. I have developed split ends that are monstrous
in their complexity. Even my split ends have split ends.
I'll post a picture of the results in the near future. I'm going to a salon
on Newbury street... fancy schmancy! you may think, but it's one of those salons
that sprang up so middle-class women can say they get their hair done on Newbury
street.
Tuesday October 7, 2003
****Teaches of Peaches
While the rest of Boston watched the Red Sox successfully prolong a season that will no doubt be painfully ended by those darn Yankees and then rioted in the streets, me and a couple hundred other people went to the Peaches show at the Middle East and watched an energetic gender-bending phenomenon cavort on stage... on the bar... on top of sound equipment... in the audience... with sex slaves... and with a projected image of Iggy Pop.
I first heard Peaches about a year ago, when my boyfriend put a single Peaches song on a mix. I assumed Peaches was a woman. Then, in preparation for the show, I listened to the entire album. The Nico-like tonal quality of her voice was a little off... at times, I wondered...
Then, in preparation for the show, I went to the Peaches web site. Upon seeing a picture of the charismatic performer, I realized Peaches was a transvestite. Or was she? My boyfriend disagreed. Indeed, it was questionable.
Before the show, I told a friend about our speculation, and he said Peaches was a woman. Then the show started, and within one minute after Peaches strutted out, both my boyfriend and our friend turned to me and said "You're right!"
But throughout the show, I myself flipped back and forth on if Peaches is either the most convincing-sounding transvestite I've ever heard, or a very butch woman who is pretending to be a transvestite.
All this is secondary. Peaches is an amazing performer and outrageously entertaining, like an X-Rated movie crossed with Hedwig and the Angry Inch.
If you feel like experiencing what the show was in the comfort of your own home, and if you're a mature person, go to this site, where there's samples of her new album that you can play around with. (Warning: If you are at work, you may not want to go to that site.)
Monday October 6, 2003
****There's More where that Came From, Missy
Today at work, I actually struck my computer monitor in a fit of Microsoft Word-induced rage. I can only say that it drove me to it... it was begging for it. None of the 3 highly-focused software engineers who sit near me even batted an eye.
Strangely enough, though I wouldn't have hit my computer if it was alive... I did feel bad about it afterwards, suggesting it provokes... intimate feelings.
Sunday October 5, 2003
****News from Around the World
In Boston, the only thing going on is the Red Sox are barely staying alive in their playoff series against the Oakland As.... bor-ing!
Let's see what is going on today around the world:
Also... in America, where apparently everything that's remotely exciting happens, Kill Bill is coming out in five days (that is, Volume 1... Volume 2 comes out in February). I hope it's as good as they say it is.
KILL BILL is both an homage and a reimagining of the genre films that Quentin Tarantino has seen and loved: spaghetti westerns, Chinese martial arts films, Japanese samurai movies as well as anime. Put simply, Tarantino describes the movie as a "duck press" of all the grindhouse cinema he's absorbed over the past 35 years.
Saturday October 4, 2003
****Spy on Your Kids
A new bill in Massachusetts would allow libraries to disclose to parents what books their children have checked out.
"I want to have parents involved in their child's reading and education," said the sponsor of the bill, Representative John F. Quinn, a Dartmouth Democrat.
Unbelievable. Any parent should just be thrilled to death knowing their teenager read actual books. Even if a teenager is reading books about sex, drugs and violence... isn't it better for them to read about it?
I can understand parents who want to control their children's choice in movies, music or TV. I don't agree with it, but I can understand it. But books and education are different; this proposed bill is going too far.
The violence and sex in books is presented differently. Kids who read Hamlet aren't going to be negatively influenced into killing their step-fathers... in fact, if they read all of Hamlet, they'd probably conclude that killing your step-father can have some very bogus consequences.
Even the racier modern young adult books are pretty tame, especially in a public library. The really raunchy stuff is the Classics. I learned more about sex, violence and bodily functions from taking a Classic Literature class my freshman year of college than I ever did from Judy Blume.
I can see it now... Janie can't read Lysistrata by Aristophanes in school and her parents banned it home. Burning with curiosity, she sneakily checks it out of the public library. Her father suspects something is up from his daughter's suddenly odd habit of urging her mother to withhold sex in exchange for new appliances. He heads to the local library to check on her reading habits. To his horror, he discovers his daughter has borrowed... Lysistrata.
Janie is grounded! Janie learns that reading violent sexy Greek lit would be an excellent way to rebel against her strict upbringing. Next thing you know, she's reading the Orestian trilogy by Aeschylus and Oedipus by Sophocles. And that's the hardcore shit that can really screw up teenager's life!
Friday October 3, 2003
****Intellectual Terrorism
A friend forwarded me this link about the late Edward Said, in which he's labeled an intellectual terrorist!
Yeah, I think I would've supported that contention had someone asked me what I thought of Orientalism, as I anguished over reading it in college. It certainly terrorized me. Not that it was a hard or challenging read, it just didn't fit in with the rest of my curricula and it has no bearing on my life at my point.
I had not the foresight nor the worldliness to imagine that September 11 could happen, and that it would help to understand why Arabs hated us. The typical party line in America is that Arabs are jealous of us. That's what we say when anyone hates us, and in Europe's case, I think it's true.
But, as Orientalism proposed, in the Arab world, it's much deeper than that. This column, "You are an Arab - imagine that" is an interesting view for Americans to consider. It's like Orientalism without the pretensions. Nothing can excuse terrorism, but the author is not a terrorist. He is a Palestinian who was raised in a refugee camp on the Gaza Strip and now lives in Seattle.
Thursday October 2, 2003
****Too Much Information
Anyone out there curious about the digestive repercussions facing one who eats a piece of chicken for the first time in 12 years?
It's not fun. For chrissakes, I just ate a piece of chicken! I feel like I went to Africa and drank three gallons of local water after polishing off 5 pounds of bush meat.
Wednesday October 1, 2003
****Walmart and Playboy
According to my site's statistics, which lists what people type into Google.com in order to find my site, I got quite a bit of site traffic from people who typed in "Playboy Walmart" last week.
Well, if people want Walmart and Playboy, I'll give you Playboy and Walmart!
Here's an article about Walmart, "Is Wal-mart too powerful?" It's a disturbing article, because the answer seems to be: Yes. It is. They are intensely anti-union and pay low wages. The average clerk makes $13,861 a year. Wal-Mart indirectly censors music and magazines by picking and choosing what they will sell.
The Wal-Mart supercenter, which sells groceries, will be spawned on at least 1000 communities in the next five years. For every new supercenter that opens, it is predicted that 2 supermarkets will close.
As the number of supermarkets shrinks, more shoppers will have to travel farther from home and will find their buying increasingly restricted to merchandise that Wal-Mart chooses to sell -- a growing percentage of which may be the retailer's private-label goods, which now account for nearly 20% of sales. Meanwhile, the failure of hundreds of stores will cost their owners dearly and put thousands out of work, only some of whom will find jobs at Wal-Mart, most likely at lower pay.
Here's an article about Playboy, "Playboy Survives its Midlife Crisis." Playboy is 50 years old, and is relying on revenue from harder-core pay-tv in order to make a profit.
The company has always tried to emphasize its high-living, epicurean associations and its history as a publisher of literary lions like Norman Mailer and Truman Capote. Think sexiness, not sex. Yet the availability of harder-core material from raunchy magazines and the Internet on the one hand and competition for younger readers from "laddie" mags such as Maxim and FHM on the other left Playboy with little choice but to shed some of its inhibitions.
Heh. When I worked at a convenience store in college, probably half of the Playboys I sold were to women. And I've seen many women on the subway reading Laddie magazines. Women will humor soft-core porn just to be entertained.
This reflects upon the sad state of affairs of women's mass-market magazines. All these women's magazines recycle the same old diet advice, dating advice, and feature page after page of models frolicking in obscenely expensive clothes that the average woman could never afford. Is that what women want? I'd rather the model just be nearly naked, so I'll only have to envy her body, not her clothes and her body, and I want thought-provoking articles, and I don't want to read another article about How to Take a Fitness Walk or How to Drink More Water for Weight Loss.
Well, this entry has made little sense and really has no point. I'll sum it all up: I'd rather read Playboy than shop at Wal-Mart.