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Googles

For several years I’ve observed this website’s referring search phrases, and I can attest 1: This world has a lot of sickos, and 2: Internet users are constructing their search engine queries with increasing complexity. Instead of typing a single word that would return my site on page 150 of 2000, users string together specific keywords in hopes of honing in on what they seek. Of course, my site is irrelevant to everything, except the ones looking for “meredith green.”

I am also getting a fair amount of traffic from Ask.com, which attracts less-adept Internet users who take comfort in Ask.com’s gimmick: That all queries must be in the form of a question, just like Jeopardy…

(from Google)
alec baldwin likes chubby women
“his hugo boss suit”
dim sum girl lyrics
panera bread “corporate structure”
necco candy financial report
men urinating
themes in green days by the river
nylon novels
crack portrait ux50
dj tanners boyfriends
maury povich sandal
music /i-am in love with a stripper by mike
reporter “virgin boy”
drunker ladies pics
greek goddess,escort,detroit
men in suits and bulging crotches
beefy babes
down with toilet paper
butt pictures of baseball players
tom brady half naked pictures
“cindy fitzgibbon” feet
crystal meth in restaurant salt shakers
non russian rape sites
singapore gals in one piece swimsuits
free movie david hasselhoff orgy party
american idol cattle call auditions
buttermilk yellow hourglass hollywood style suits
also non as the flying tomato who is a woman

(From Ask.com)
how to turn your unused basement into a yacht
when will the next earthquake hit san francisco again
what are the odds of catching meningitis
does anyone have any before and after plastic surgery photos of beautiful ivanka trump
should serial killers have communication rights with non family members
what was the meaning of tony soprano’s dream about mistaken identity
do mormons spank their children
is singer peaches a transvestite
is “empire carpet” more expensive than home depot
what’s green days website called
what does green days house look like
what kind of cigarettes does billie joe armstrong smoke

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By Meredith – May 4, 2006

American woman, listen what I say

Today I was on the C branch of the detested Green Line today for, oh, about 40 minutes (the MBTA dares propose to raise fares to $1.70 from its current rip-off of $1.25? The 2007 increase will make fares comparable to “several of the nation’s other largest transit agencies”… but gee, when I go to New York or Washington, I ain’t sitting in no slow-moving trolley that stops every block, yields for cars, and invokes a feeling of imminent derail when it hits 10 mph. The MBTA justifies the fare increase by pointing at their $8.1 billion in debt, but this is symptomatic of problems that won’t be fixed by tapping their existing riders for an extra .45 cents.)

I sat behind a young British man and an American woman who were comparing the relative virtues of the UK and America… rather, he trashed America and exonerated the UK of the same offenses, and she sat there like a Kewpie doll, agreeing with fawning flirtatiousness, enchanted by the sweeping generalizations uttered in his dashing English accent.

“British politicians are much less corruptible. Our electoral process is much cleaner, so we elect politicians who have a genuine desire to serve their government, not personally profit from it.”

The American woman breathed, “Totally! We have, like, so much corruption and, like, bribery.”

“Americans have no global awareness. They’re so involved in their own lives. The British are curious about the world and stay informed about what’s happening globally.”

The American woman nodded vigorously, saying “It’s so sick how ignorant we are.”

“Americans are so spoiled. They don’t realize how much less they pay in taxes or how cheap their petrol is. ‘Petrol’ is gasoline,” he explained to her questioning look.

The American woman agreed, adding “And instead of appreciating it, we just get greedier.”

The conversation continued like this for a while, to the point where I expected him to say “American women are all silly whores,” and her to gush, “We are. We are.”

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By Meredith – May 4, 2006

Movie Review: Blackballed: The Bobby Dukes Story

This isn’t the dumbest mockumentary ever made, though at times, Blackballed was so dumb it almost seemed to be mocking mockumentaries. I mean, paintball is its own parody. Starring Rob Corddry of the The Daily Show, this 2004 low-budget film is currently enjoying a very limited theatre run – I saw it at the Brattle, which I’ve vowed to support through their cash-flow crisis even though I’m missing better-reviewed current releases at other theaters. Whatever. Blackballed has got “cult classic” painted all over it.

Bobby Dukes is a former paintball champion, banned for ten years from the (ahem) sport after he was caught “wiping” during a game. Older and balder, he returns from his exile to compete in a paintball tournament. After trying in vain to reconnect with his old team mates, he recruits a new team consisting of every known paintball player stereotype: The earnest nerd, the crackpot ex-Marine, the lazy stoner, the aging hippie, and the dorky kid sister who is always around when a substitute is needed. As predictably-motley as the ensemble and the plot are, the improvisation is so excellent that the humor is never quite quirky on purpose.

The camera work veered into Blair Witch jerkiness, and director Brant Sersen is obviously taking his cues from Christopher Guest, but I was rolling with laughter at least once a minute. “Kick their ass so hard that their ass goes up their own ass!” I can’t begrudge it for being dumb when I’m laughing.

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By Meredith – May 2, 2006

When Walmarts Die

Is there anything worse than having a Walmart open in one’s community? Look at the pestilence Walmart breeds: The Mom and Pop stores cannot compete with the always-low prices. The landscape becomes a homogenous landscape of big-box stores and parking lots. The populace begins to take delight in cheap consumer good acquisition, breeding a society of soulless denizens who value convenience, conformity, and cars big enough to cart home enough crap to fill the void in their life that TV isn’t covering.

But there is something worse than a Walmart opening, and that’s a Walmart closing. Having a new Walmart is the modern-day equivalent of a station stop on a cross-country train: Instant boomtown. Yes, the small-business owners leave, but they are replaced by other businesses – car dealerships, restaurants, gas stations – that don’t have to compete head-to-head with Walmart and that feed off of Walmart’s traffic. The town becomes a commercial destination and reaps tax benefits. And even if the jobs pay depressed wages, at least there are jobs. Once Walmart digs its claws in, the community depends on the Walmart. So what happens to this town when Walmart decided to leave?

Last year, I was talking to a co-worker who used to be a consultant for towns with wealthy home-owners eager to understand the future impact of proposed development. I told him about how I grew up in a small town with a sewer moratorium that prevented any commercial construction until the mid-1990s, and then the moratorium was lifted and the town imploded into a mess of chain stores and traffic lights. “There’s even a Walmart,” I said. The co-worker then proceeded to offer insight into the building lifecycle of a Walmart.

Because my company is all about building lifecycle, I knew what he was talking about, but for those of you who are not lucky enough to work in the field of facilities management, let me explain. Every building has a lifecycle. For example, a building built in 1990 may have a boiler that lasts 30 years, flooring that lasts 25 years, and an HVAC system that lasts 20 years. These building components must be replaced, totally or partially, in order for the building to function. In buildings that are built to last – office buildings, city halls, schools, hospitals – this lifecycle of replacement is a necessity.

But according to my co-worker, Walmarts aren’t built to last. They’re built to last 20 years. Walmart realized long ago that today’s ideal store location probably won’t be ideal in 20 years, because as noted above, a Walmart changes a community. They are strategic about their locations. Ever wonder why a Walmart will open within 10 miles of another Walmart? To inundate a large area with always-low prices and run competitors out of town, even at the risk of stealing business from each other. 70% of Wal-Marts are leased, allowing stores to be easily abandoned. And with the dawn of the Supercenter, thousands of Walmarts too small to serve Walmart’s purpose, so they relocate, leaving a massive deteriorating carcass behind. Most former Walmarts (at least 400 nationwide) remain empty, although a few serve as churches, and several communities toy with the idea of turning them into jails.

With thousands of Walmarts built 1990s about to enter the end of their useful lifecycle, soon America will be filled with abandoned Walmarts. It is a chilling thought. Because the only thing more depressing than seeing my hometown transformed into a bustling Walmart town would be seeing it as a ghost town with an empty 144,000-square-foot big box store presiding over an expanse of concrete.

walmartabandoned

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By Meredith – May 1, 2006

Gravity in the News

I bought a Sunday New York Times this morning. I dutifully picked through each section, scanning in vain for a story that could hold my interest beyond the first two paragraphs. Doesn’t the news ever change? The woe of the Iraqi civilian continues… Iran is flexing its muscle as a nuclear threat… gas prices are pinching the American consumer… inefficiencies abound in the health care industry… Donald Rumsfeld could give a crap about his disaffected denouncers… blah blah blah. Holding the stack of news in my ink-stained hand, I began to resent the condemnation to absorb enough information to justify my $4.50 splurge. Fed up with all these articles of gravity and consequence, I got on the Internet and stumbled across three stories of gravity and no consequence.

Eight feet high and falling: Keith Richards fell out of a tree. Ha. Richards and band mate Ron Wood were climbing a palm tree at a resort in Fiji when Richards slipped, resulting in mild concussion. Everyone wants to know: Why was 62- year old Keith Richards trying to climb a palm tree? For some reason, I am reminded of another venerable Englishman who suffered a head injury at the bottom of a tree: Why should that apple always descend perpendicularly to the ground? Why should it not go sideways or upwards, but constantly to the earth’s centre?

Muslims in Space: Malaysia is preparing to select its first two astronauts to accompany a Russian crew aboard a Soyuz space craft to the International Space Station in 2007, and at least one of the chosen will be a devout Muslim. The issue of how and when to pray 5 times day is a logistical nightmare, not unlike when NASA mulled over a urination strategy for female astronauts for reportedly several years. A Malaysian professor has written a computer program that calculates the times and in which direction the astronaut should face, but bigger issues (such as how to kneel in zero gravity) still loom.

Vitruvian Man: Dan Brown, author of The Da Vinci Code, revealed that his writing habits include hourly breaks for calisthenics and gravity boots, which he credits for helping him develop the plot. I hope those that take this slapdash tome of crackpot ideas seriously realize it was written by a man who was high on his own blood.

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By Meredith – April 30, 2006

How Opal Mehta Committed Carnal Sin and Subordinated Reason to Desire

I have a confession to make: I am a plagiarist.

Once, as a freshman in high school, I had the youthful audacity to plagiarize Dante’s Inferno. I checked it out from the Audubon community library—alongside a stack of Sweet Valley High books, naturally—and, while I didn’t fully grasp the text, the language struck me. I copied down phrases I found especially lyrical and wove them into my own poems, padding Dante’s lines with bits of my own incoherent teenage verse. I can’t give you examples—you’ll have to imagine it. But trust me, it was nonsensical. And still, Dante’s words had such innate resonance, even I couldn’t ruin them completely.

I gave one of these poems to Mr. Ulrich, the English teacher I wanted to impress. He taped it to the wall alongside the other “ground-breaking” student work he’d curated. My little Frankenstein-Dante hybrid stayed there the rest of the year. I wasn’t worried about getting caught—but I felt gross enough about it that I never plagiarized again.

Well, okay. I sloppily cited a few things in college. And yeah, this blog? Basically a scrubbed version of LiveJournal entries, minus the emoticons and acronym-speak. The software documentation I write? Lifted from other manuals. But no one reads those anyway.

Plagiarism is catnip for the media—nothing gets the navel-gazing class going like a good intellectual property scandal. The latest: Harvard sophomore Kaavya Viswanathan, who scored a half-million-dollar book deal at eighteen and wrote her chick-lit debut How Opal Mehta Got Kissed, Got Wild and Got a Life during her freshman year. Now, after more than 40 similarities between her novel and Megan McCafferty’s books were uncovered, Kaavya claims she “unconsciously” copied them. It was, she insists, “a genuine, genuine mistake.” She blames her photographic memory.

Which begs the question: If your photographic memory absorbs other people’s writing and regurgitates it word for word, wouldn’t your work be a collage of multiple sources? Why limit your magical brain to just chick-lit? That’s the real tragedy here—a perfectly good photographic memory wasted on Cinnabon references.

From page 67 of McCafferty’s novel: “…but in a truly sadomasochistic dieting gesture, they chose to buy their Diet Cokes at Cinnabon.”

From page 46 of Viswanathan’s: “In a truly masochistic gesture, they had decided to buy Diet Cokes from Mrs. Fields…”

Honestly? Kaavya should’ve read the Inferno. She could’ve produced the most harrowing YA coming-of-age saga in recent memory—and never gotten caught. Though How Opal Mehta Committed Carnal Sin and Subordinated Reason to Desire might’ve been a harder sell at Barnes & Noble.

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By Meredith – April 27, 2006

Got Gas?

When I write about American dependency on gasoline, I may imply that my non-car ownership makes me innocent of the social, environmental, and political ills caused by the internal combustion engine. But my life is as oil-fueled as anyones. I ride in cars, buses, taxis, planes, and I take advantage of a global marketplace that materializes within walking distance of my home. And with an impending move to the suburbs of Boston, I will soon acquire a car. I’m not going to live in the suburbs without a car like some liberal martyr, walking on a sidewalk-less road as cars whiz by at 50 mph.

Honestly, after seven years of public transportation, car rentals, the occasional inspired spat of biking, and (mostly) my own two feet, I look forward to sitting in traffic like everyone else. For a long time I wanted a Subaru Outback. So befitting of the image that I want to project to the world: A sporty, rugged individualist who isn’t afraid to own a vehicle that the stereotypical lesbian-mobile. But most Subarus get gas milage that are shockingly below average (low 20s MPG highway), so I am considering a Civic… possibly a hybrid.

My concern about fuel efficiency is partly because $5/gallon is not far away, and supply disruptions may become a weekly reality. Remember the last time gas prices surged, right after Katrina? Americans felt helpless, vulnerable, and angry, like a drug-addicted prostitute who lives in constant fear that her pimp will start rationing her crack. It was the first time George Bush ever kinda-sorta asked Americans to curb their consumption. “We can all pitch in,” Mr. Bush said. “People just need to recognize that the storms have caused disruption,” he added, and that if Americans are able to avoid going “on a trip that’s not essential, that would be helpful.”

How is conservation even possible now? Sure, maybe some people can walk or ride their bike to the corner store to get milk and save that 2 miles of driving, but the vast majority of America is enmeshed in sprawl where any sidewalks are for recreation, not transportation. Millions of Americans are stuck driving low MPG vehicles bought when our oil pimps kept us deliriously high enough to believe that the times of abundance would never end. I hate to invoke the wisdom of Dick Cheney, but: “Conservation may be a sign of personal virtue, but it cannot be the basis of a sound energy policy.”

In this year’s State of the Union address, Bush said “Here we have a serious problem: America is addicted to oil, which is often imported from unstable parts of the world.” It was like our lead pimp/crack supplier was blaming us for being a crack whore! It was confusing. Then this week, Bush ordered a federal investigation into “possible cheating, price gouging or illegal manipulation in the gasoline markets.” What’s going on?

The oil industry is the most exploitative and self-serving entity ever to exist in the free market, and it’s downright scary the control that they have over the health of this world and the people within. A Shell oil boss once said “International oil companies, without exception, are very pragmatic commercial organizations. They don’t have a theology” Perhaps that’s why Bush suddenly has all these ideological beliefs about oil. Is he belatedly realizing that politicians should serve the interests of America, not lobbyists? Maybe at one time, when campaign funds were needed and interests were conflicted, Bush cared about what the oil industry thought of him, but perhaps he’s matured during his reign. He’s got a legacy to care about.

But wait. After Bush makes all these righteous statements about protecting the consumer from the greedy oil men, he nonchalantly adds he will “temporarily ease clean air regulations that have caused gas shortages in some portions of the Northeast. “I think it makes sense that they should be allowed to, so I’m directing EPA administrator [Steve] Johnson to use all of his available authority to grant waivers that would relief critical fuel supply shortages. And I do that for the sake of our consumers.” How much you want to bet all his tough talk about forcing energy companies to reinvest their profits in renewable energy research amounts to nothing, and the clean air regulations are already being ignored anyway? Yeah, I’ll take the Civic Hybrid, and keep my bike tuned up.

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By Meredith – April 26, 2006

Learning Through Hunger

In French class, we are on the much-anticipated food chapter. Tonight, at 7:30pm, the cooking class across the hall filled our room with savory smells like garlic and meat. My light virtuous lunch of salad and yogurt became a source of profound regret as my stomach searched for something to digest. After struggling through a reading comprehension exercise about la cuisine grecque – des traditionels souvalakis, Tiropitta, Melitzanosalata – we practiced saying Je prefere la glace and J’aime beaucoup le frommage. So true. So very, very true. J’ai faim. J’ai faim. Hunger drove everything else from my brain, but I will certainly never forget those words.

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By Meredith – April 25, 2006

A Conversation with Lili Taylor

I didn’t have an actual conversation with Lili Taylor. I don’t just bump into Indie film queens on the subway or in the office cafeteria. I paid $8 to attend “A Conversation with Lili Taylor,” a special event sponsored by the Independent Film Festival of Boston at the Brattle Theatre in Cambridge. A rather paltry screening of Taylor’s extensive filmography was followed by a moderated discussion led by the owner of the Brattle, then a Q and A session.

Lili Taylor is one of the few actresses I’d ever want to have a conversation with. She’s had so many compelling roles, ranging from Corey in Say Anything (“Joe… likes gir-ls… with names… like Ashley”) to Valerie Solanas in I Shot Andy Warhol , and recently was in Six Feet Under. I loved her in Dogfight, in which she is courted by River Phoenix because him and his soldier friends placed bets on who can find the ugliest date for the evening. I wanted to ask her if she was insulted that she was considered ugly because she doesn’t look like a typical Hollywood actress, but I couldn’t think of how to phrase the question without sounding freaky (though mine would have been better than the one from the self-described aspiring actress: “When you act, do you see your body as a vessel for your emotions?”)

I took notes so I’d have something to write about today. It wasn’t the most insightful conversation, but I will say Lili Taylor is as cool as I imagined her to be.

  • When asked if she could walk down the street without being recognized, Lili told us about the stewardess on the plane to Boston who recognized her as JoJo from Mystic Pizza: “What was Julia like? Do you still talk to her? Have you been in anything else since?”
  • Lili doesn’t like doing television shows like Six Feet Under because the character is in the hands of writers. She had no idea what was going to happen to her character and couldn’t develop it the way she wanted. She didn’t continue to watch the show to find out what happened after her character’s disappearance.
  • During the Q&A, a native of Mystic, Connecticut asked her to sign his copy of Mystic Pizza. “Ooo, VHS,” the moderator commented when he brought it up to the stage.
  • When asked which actor she enjoyed working with, Lili named Johnny Depp and then couldn’t think of anyone else. “I hope Johnny doesn’t here about this,” Lili said. “He’ll think I’m weird.” During another question, she called her The Haunting co-star “Liam Neilson,” and then looked around in confusion. “Neilson? Neeson? Anyone know?”
  • When asked about her interests besides acting, Lili ran her fingers through her bountiful mane of reddish-brown waves (she was very jittery) and said “Well, I hung out at Peet’s Coffee twice today.” Taylor also enjoys “spacing out” and bird-watching in Central Park.

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By Meredith – April 24, 2006

Dim Sum Girl

About half the time, my iPod Shuffle is uncannily apt at providing a soundtrack for my current activity: Subversive hard rock when exercising; soothing rock when commuting; and upbeat electronica when generally out and about. Sometimes, the song and activity pairing may initially seem incompatible, but the Shuffle knows it will work. Like when jogging on a windy, misty morning along the Charles, and Mussorgsky’s “Night on Bald Mountain” came on. I almost pushed “Forward” but the apprehensive violins kicked in and the horns belted out the sinister refrain, and my pace picked up as I imagined myself as a medieval royal foot messenger being pursued by an army of hooded barbarians carrying maces and spears. It was pathetically exhilirating.

But the arbitrary shuffling of songs can prove malicious. Yesterday, walking to the laundromat with both hands occupied by a sack of clothes, my Shuffle was pleasantly jamming an Aphex Twin song. Then synthesized pop music fades in:

“Yo, this song goes out to all you sexy girls who push the dim sum carts all over the world… you know who you are, babies… you work so hard and we love you so much…. check it out yo”

Oh no. It’s the Notorious MSG, the Chinatown rap act that’s more NSync than Biggie! And with my hands confined to the task of sack-handling, I was powerless. Oh, Shuffle, must you be so cruel?

“It’s been so long since I’ve seen you smile looking so good coming down that aisle with that sexy dress and a little dim sum makes me crazy when I order chow fun”

Is this a joke? Honestly, I know people write bad lyrics, and Asians are prone to exhibiting cheesiness in their pop culture endeavors, but: Dim sum girl / you really rock my world / I never thought i’d find a girl from northern China / who make me feel so good seems to striving towards a parodic, Weird Al type of humor. But then, the song snaps back into straight sappiness – I don’t wanna live without you dim sum girl / take me away to your dim sum world / I want to hold you / I want to squeeze you / please say you will be mine – all mine – that makes me suspect the Notorious MSG is being sincere.

My ears started to bleed. Thankfully, I arrive at the laundromat, threw my sack of clothes on a washer, and jab furiously at the Shuffle’s wheel. Ah, the Cure. The perfect laundromat music.

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By Meredith – April 23, 2006