Friday, March 31, 2006

Quote of the Week #9 (interface)

Ok, this one will be short and sweet.

Finding this weeks quote was a huge struggle. First, the word came in a little late so all my searching was compressed into a short amount of time. And I've been a little under the weather lately so my patience when clicking through the expansive world of blogs has been less than rock solid. Especially when nearly every instance of the word interface looks like this:

It come in two configuration: a internal PX-750A which features a E-IDE (ATAPI) interface and the external PX-750UF which has a dual interface with Hi-Speed USB and IEEE 1394 and has transfer rates of 480 Mbps (USB) or 400 Mbps ...

Interfaces are all about software and applicatons and web based blah, blah, blah...

There's a mass email floating around called 30 Lines to Make You Smile that a TON of people thought was funny enough to put on their blogs. It has this little nugget.
The original point and click interface was a Smith and Wesson.

Amusing? meh.

Not much more to say. I am tired. Have a fabulous weekend.

this new interface sucks big donkey di**s. it's like a christian dating service in here.

Honorable Mention
Try not to click - a mouse-based user interface that uses no clicks (click here for the second last time).

Tuesday, March 28, 2006


I'm back. Didn't know I was gone? I was. But now I'm here again. Hi.

We went up to Burlington to check out the house situation. Sadly, the situation is grim. It is very expensive. Everything in our price range is either falling over or in an ugly 70's style brick condo building. So far the ugly 70's style condo is in the lead. If we buy it you can come visit and we can do the hustle in front of the Very Brady stairs! You know, the kind with no risers, just treads. Which, by the way, will freak the dog out. See-through stairs are not part of his repertoire.

As a result, we are think more seriously about renting. If we pay in rent what we could afford in mortgage, we could get a pretty nice place near town. But since we have been homeowners for 3 years, it feels like throwing money out the window. But, we will still be paying mortgage on our house here, so in financial terms it will be like we never left! Even though we would not be increasing our real estate empire, the empire would remain comfortable in the status quo. And we would have a place to live, which is good. Instead of all the uncertainty and bank approval and mortgage crap, which is boring and stressful.

But who knows. We change our minds every 10 seconds. We even had a long discussion about a house that would be perfect. That is if we spent the next 3 years and $100K of income chipping away at the rot and ugliness. Oh, I wish I had my camera, I could show you the upstairs bathroom. Maybe I'll run home at lunch. Honestly, even Tom Silva would cringe.

But it was the only one that wasn't immitating a carnival funhouse. Look, when I stand in this corner, I can touch the ceiling!

Friday, March 24, 2006

Quote of the Week #8 (chubby)

Thank you to Sexy, for providing the word for this week, "chubby". She came in from the reserves (she was the first winner ever!) because last weeks winner was a no show. Thanks a bunch whatever your name is...that's right, no link. That's what you get. Not that you care. Because you obviously don't.

Moving on...

Chubby is a girl word. It is used primarily by girls to describe one of two things. Other girls and babies.

One particular kind of girl who uses this word is mom. And they're hungry for flesh. There are far too many Mommys blogging about eating their young. Seriously. It seems having a baby causes a surge in cannibalistic urges:

Four and a half months old Anna now weighs about 7.5 kilos and has rolls of fat on her wrists! I just want to eat her up.

There are lots of chubby cheeks, fingers and toes that moms call yummy and wish to eat. Maybe when I am a mom I will understand, but let's hope not.

A lot of ladies use the word to describe themselves.

I don't have pictures of myself, but I will post a description: I'm short, chubby, my bones are huge, my medium length, semi wavy hair is brown, my eyes are brown too, but a shade or two darker then my hair. I'm a bit chubby,...
Yes, we know. You already said that…I overlooked it and kept reading. Now I think I'll stop.

Someone asked for a pic, ahem. I know you're not talking about a pic of my chubby body, so that means you want a pic of the lovely YELLOW room.
I'm pretty sure someone was a disappointed by her logic.

Chubby is a word that means fat. It does. Maybe not really fat, but definitely not thin. It's sorta the nice way to say fat, because fat isn't a very nice word. People who are trying to be extra nice put "a little" in front of it. But we still know what you mean. Fat.

They were being really mean to her because she's a little chubby so her mom just decided to drive her.
They were making fun of her because she's fat. Saying so doesn't make you a bad person. Well, maybe it does, but just a little.

Then there are the people who use it hoping it will soften the judgmental statement they are making about, oh let's say...a small child.
I will say that my niece is so chubby that she has bends where there aren't any joints.
Though it's not all negative. Some girls use it endearingly when they have strange lesbian crushes on their classmates:

its not that i have the feelings towards gurls, but i jus like her swit chubby face. i cant concentrate during english just now. im feeling so damn happy, like izni all over the class.
Um, I think you should start concentrating in English today.

It was inevitable that I would find this particular use of the word chubby. And of course, it's a dude:
Click on the photo's to the left to biggify them and really get a chubby. Oops, said that out loud didn't I?
I must warn you, I have a sitemeter that will tell me if you click to see what is causing him to pitch a tent. I see you! Perverts.

Before I announce the winner, I want to share something I found on the search for the word chubby. At first I thought it might be a contender, after all babies are getting eaten by tigers. But then I kept reading, and reading...and um, reading.

I present The Longest Sentence in the Blogosphere (containing the word chubby)
Occasionally when pondering this I think of all the unfortunate prehistoric babies born to cavemothers who did not have the gene that finds disproportionately huge heads and big eyes and chubby knees distractingly endearingly adorable, and so left their infant on the ground where a tiger ate it and stopped that particular genetic lineage in its tracks, so that we might arrive at today, where almost all of the members of our species find babies inexplicably cute- so much so that we transfer our identification of "cuteness" traits over to irrelevant animals and objects, and also find baby ducks and tiny shoes and miniature cans of soda cute, even though they are not critical to our survival as a species.
And because making fun of formerly super hot Jordan Catalano makes the painful truth of his new found skeez factor easier to accept:

If you saw a chubby guy wearing a priests collar and too much eyeliner last night, chances are that was Jared Leto

Honorable Mention

Osama got a bit chubby, eh? And flashing the bling around?

Wednesday, March 22, 2006

The solution to our Turbo Tax dilemma

The House of Nacho Master Assembly is pleased to propose the TUBBS IS A SPONGE BILL, establishing a new ordinance imposing a Mooch Tax on all canine residents. The Assembly hopes that revenue produced will help alleviate the burden of current homeowners who have been solely responsible for taxes levied by both the state and federal governments.


Sec. 70-431. Definitions.

The following words, terms and phrases, when used in this article, shall have the meanings ascribed to them in this section, except where the context clearly indicates a different meaning:

Tubbs means a dog who currently has primary residence at House of Nacho.

Master means any earner of income used in the operations and maintenance of the House, and any of their duly authorized agents.

Sec. 70-432. Levy of tax.

There is hereby imposed and levied a tax on Tubbs for:

a. Every meal served, sold or delivered by a Master to Tubbs. The rate of such tax shall be 4 1/2 percent of the amount paid for the meal.

b. Each instance of pooping, regardless of location. The rate of such tax shall be 10 cents per instance. A penalty of $100 shall be imposed for indoor pooping. This penalty shall be doubled for poop of a loose or less-than-solid nature

c. All occasions where a Master is compelled to get off the couch due to whining, scratching or staring by Tubbs to fill water bowls, allow access to the outdoors, or dislodge a toy from under the coffee table/bed. The rate of such tax shall be $1 per instance. Rate shall double if Master is watching any form of Reality TV or Virginia Tech Football.

d. Each individual bark, even if in quick succession, shall be taxed at the rate of $1 per bark. Rate will be doubled when the source and motivation for such barking cannot be determined.

e. Every discovery of a 'wet spot' on any and all furniture created by the licking of Tubbs feet and /or butt. The rate of such tax shal be $10 per instance. A penalty of $100 shall be imposed if the wet spot is located on the bedsheets in the area a Master sleeps.

Sec. 70-433. Exemptions and Limits

The tax imposed under this article shall not be levied if any of the following criteria are met:
a. Tubbs obtains gainful employment where contributions to the House revenue can me made.
b. Tubbs begins to obey all commands regarding his bodily movements and overall level of spaz.
c. Tubbs manipulates Master with cuteness and love.

Monday, March 20, 2006

As if I'm not already stressed...

Ok, I'll say it here. Perhaps with some sort of internet karma it will make me more accountable. I am putting it out here as fact, and only I can control the integrity and truth of the following statement:

I quit smoking.

It's about time, no? It's been 4 days. I had a ½ piece of Nicorrette gum on Friday. It hasn't been too bad, the cravings come and go. But for some reason, nicotine withdrawal gives me cotton mouth. Like super spongy, tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth cotton mouth. And I'm crabby. My patience is zilch. I don't even have the ability to write what I want...about how I was supposed to have quit before the wedding, how I'm worried about being a bitch...I can't think or settle enough to formulate the words and thoughts.

Just want the buzz/whizz of withdrawal to subside so I can feel normal again.

It will be good to move to "The Healthiest City in America" with the cigarettes in my past. Plus, standing outside in –20 degree weather in February just to feed an addiction doesn't sound like fun. Not that I was a chain smoker or anything. I was a 1-2 a day person, but if I didn't have that 1 or 2...ugh. I felt like I feel now. And without a concerted effort, it is easy to give in.

I also had a list of excuses, or at least acceptable scenarios for wine, on the phone, bad day at, because I felt like it?

But not now. Bye Bye my little butts!

I only wish I could say the same to the big one I'm sitting on.

Friday, March 17, 2006

Quote of the Week #7 (potato-like)

Ok, what the hell is up with Blogger. Forbidden, my ass. Do that to me again and I'll kick your potato-like butts...stupid blogger people. Making me depend on them for technology I can't fix with duct tape.

Potato-like. To possess or display characteristics of a potato. Are bloggers observant of the distinct potato-ness of things? At least anybody besides last week's winner?

Luckily, some are.

First, there are multiple entries about the mashed cauliflower substance made popular by the Aitkens cult:

Cooking Know-How For a smoother potato-like texture, puree cooked cauliflower and dressing together in food processor or with immersion blender until very smooth.

Often the word 'like' is not used as a direct suffix to potato, but often to create a simile:
Then, I just went off on the net, in this careless sort of day when I had no outting planned, and started researching dental chair potato like a maniac

um, ok. Good luck with that.

The hunt also educated me to aspects of living in Finland. #31 on the list of "You Know You Have Been In Finland Too Long, When..." is:
31. When you're hungry you can peel a boiled potato like lightning.

Not exactly David Letterman material. The rest of the list is funnier if you want to check it out.

Now for the winner!

I chose this quote only for use of the words 'potato like' but for the different ways one can interpret the word 'balls'.
Big fish with small potato like balls. The resulting mouth full of tiny bones made enjoying this dish difficult.

And, like, Honorable Mention! lol

ok so i started this potato like a yr ago lol...but i figured we'd start it up again so here-pass the potato...please! lol

Wednesday, March 15, 2006

Are you wearing your safety glasses? No? I don't care, yay!

I know you're worried. Everyone is. It is the single most frequent question I have been asked since giving my 2 weeks notice.

What is going to happen to the Safety Committee?

I was volunteered (by all the other people that didn't want to do it) to co-chair this committee. Our first meeting was last week. This particular entity has not existed for 5 years. The company president made a big brew-ha-ha about it after someone fell off a ladder. So, poof! now there is a Safety Committee.

So, it is our job to take all the old safety – policy – equipment – earplug - stuff and update it. Fun! I am the only one on the committee with a computer. So who gets to do all the work? Me. Agendas, minutes, recommendations, telephone calls, purchasing, employee manuals…OSHA, OSHA, OSHA!

Um, Gesundheit.

But no more. No more, I tell you! This compulsory membership that forces me to pretend to care about people lifting with their legs and not their backs will soon be over.

Three weeks, my friends. Three weeks.

Monday, March 13, 2006

We are moving! I am excited and terrified!

It is a whirlwind in my brain. Don't get me wrong, I'm psyched. I can feel this will be good for us. There is just so much to be done. Where will we live? Where will I work? What about all our crap?

What about the house?

As a lot of you know, we just completed a pretty major renovation of our home, so it makes absolutely no sense to sell it. So we have to rent it. To strangers. Who may or may not know that there is a no chocolate pudding rule in all areas with the new white berber carpet. Who may use candles irresponsibly.
Who may think the Clematis that is perhaps the most beautiful example I have ever seen, is a weed and yank it out of the ground. Who may not love our little house like we do.

We have inhaled plaster and lathe and blown black snot for the betterment of our home. It has kept us safe and warm and now we must leave it behind. I take some comfort knowing that it will still be ours, even if people who don't quite appreciate it the same way, are the ones who get to live there.

Of course, the biggest fear is that no one will want to live there. And it will sit empty, demanding mortgage payments and insurance premiums from our dwindling bank accounts. Because even though we love our house, and see it's potential as a contributing member of the family, we also realize that it could also be a mooch. And just sit there, do nothing, and cost us precious income.

And Tdog’s already got that job.

Thursday, March 09, 2006

Quote of the Week #6 (sublime)

A huge thanks to Chickie for this weeks word, 'sublime'. She stepped in from the reserves when last weeks winner failed to show (she was the winner in week #2 before all this word nonsense started). Thanks Chickie!

How many bloggers utilize the word sublime in a given week? Not a whole lot. Maybe that's because it is a 5 cent word in land of 1 cent bloggers. Therefore, those who turn up tend to have writing skills a notch higher than usual...or at least better vocabularies. But now worries, it was still enough to do the job.

The overwhelming majority of posts have to do with music or food.

I actually have the middle-aged hippie woman who lived in my first apartment building here in Chicago to thank for introducing me to this sublime and affordable coffee

Wow sublime and affordable, sign me up.

Then there were the bloggers that had, you know, experiences.

I sat there, entranced in this sublime misery wondering at the world - in full awe of the mystery of being human, of existing at all, and feeling united in heart with all those around me.

Sublime is a pretty strong word. When you envoke it, it should be describing something awe-inspiring and beautiful. Like, for instance, an appliance repairman.

Frustrated by an annoying leak from the bottom of the door on your Frigidaire dishwasher, model number starting with PLD? Sublime Master Willie has the fix.

But the winner this week, I must say, fits right into the subject matter of this week's ramblings, and has even inspired me...

A Haiku by Nacho

Cradled in my palm
My sips melt the winter chill
And sense of balance


But now, years later, it seems to me that haiku is the perfect vehicle to encapsulate all aspects of red wine, from the mysteriously sublime to the numbingly mundane.

Honorable Mention

Could the real power and force in international relations (and global diplomacy) soon rest with the sublime beauty of football and not in the limp fabric of a sky blue beret?

Can't tell if I'm comin' or goin'

We arrived at our hotel, just outside the city around Noon. Though I'm a little woozy from the previous nights indulgences (see post below), I try to muster some enthusiasm. We unload the bags and the dog and go into our bed-with-a-kitchen room. If J ends up getting and taking this job, this will be our home for a month. Ah, I can already smell the Ramen and Hot Pockets.

We have an appointment at 2 to meet a realtor on the corner of Church and Main. Where is the corner of Church and Main? We have no idea. We don’t even have a map. Regardless, we put T in his big plastic box and head out towards the city.

The thing that strikes me as we drive into Burlington is how picturesque it is. Truly beautiful. Could I imagine living in this Victorian City on the Lake?

Hell yeah.

Of course there are other factors, such as, well, it would help if J actually got offered a job. And the real estate is super pricey. But if all the chips fall in a particular way, perhaps it will be home soon. But, then again, perhaps not. This is probably frustrating to those of you who want to know for sure.

What to do, what to do. We aren't in a position to make a decision yet. We don't know if Burlington wants us...or rather J, so therefore, me default. And let me tell you, it can have me. Any place with a 4 block pedestrian outdoor shop/restaurant/bar thoroughfare and dogs on every corner, can have it's way with me.

It's a mixed bag of emotions. Both fear and excitement come into play. I won't bore you with a PROs and CONs list, but I'll tell you, it's neck and neck.

Stay tuned...

Wednesday, March 08, 2006

The big winner of the night? Not my liver.

The fights don't start until 10, so I figure the boys are coming over around 9. My limited experience with UFC centers around the reality show, because though I don't like organized ass beatings, I enjoy some drama. But this pay-per-view thing is only the fighting part, not the peeing on someone's pillow part. Therefore, not as interesting.

J informs me the guys will be arriving at 7, so they can go out for beer and wings. Well, that sounds like fun! But after a conversation that went something like this

Me: You don't want me to go?

J: I don't want you to want to go.

the No Girls mandate was established.

So what did I decide to do? Um, drink enough wine to make a complete ass out of myself. Well, that wasn't the plan, but that is what happened.

I go to dinner with a friend, during the course of which I have two glasses of wine. When I get home the boys are still out. I pour another glass of wine while I go over my options and blab on the phone with Sexy about the new season of Real World and the subtle power struggles of The Gauntlet 2 (Impeach Kina!). With the option of being sequestered in the bedroom for the night, or going out solo, I head out to see a band playing at a local bar.

Jump ahead.

On the walk home from downtown I feel ok. Sure a little buzzed, but nothing ridiculous. However, every step I take closer to home, the more drunk I begin to feel. I start getting concerned. As I approach my house, my anxiety hightens. Inside are 3 complete strangers (and one of Js coworkers, gulp) all hyped up on UFC testosterone and here comes the wife! She's home! and she's shitfaced!

As I approach the house I hear T bark in the back yard. I'm saved! I head down our side alley and to the gate. I think, "I'll just hang out here, take a few deep breathes, compose myself and head in the side door and up the stairs, without having to talk to anybody." Well, T's barking caught J's ear and he pops out the side door. Then I try to talk, and walk, but nothing is working.

Those of you who know me well have probably seen me under the influence. I am usually (I stress usually) not a sloppy fall down drunk. Sure I get overly chatty and spill my drink. I also have inclinations towards sharing my religious and political beliefs, but I stay upright. Well, not this time. For some reason my balance went the way of the my better judgement, nowhere to be found.

J comes out and I begin apologizing because I realize how drunk I am. Luckily he loves me enough to help me inside and gets me going up the stairs. Where I fall down. But I get up and proceed to the bedroom.

Boom! J hears a thud and announces to his comrades he better go check on his drunk ass wife. Which he does, only to find me lying on the bedroom floor. But I'm ok. Not passed out or anything, just completely unable to keep everything sturdy.

Yes I am a joy to be married to. I can only hope there are not stories circulating Js place of business about me and my inability to hold my liquor.

But I had my punishment:

We awake at 8am to drive 3 hours. I tend to get car sick. Not fun. Then once we arrive, I sit in the back seat while a realtor drives us around on a 'tour'...ugh. But the city was pretty, even though I wanted to puke. But I didn't.

The End

Tuesday, March 07, 2006

Smacked! Ouch. Twice? Ouch.

Before I get into my trip up north, I want to let you know...I've been smacked. When I was typing the last entry from the hotel lobby, I checked out my site meter and yikes! where the hell are all these people coming from? No, I haven't suddenly become popular or interesting, the lovely Princess Pottymouth at I talk Too Much reviewed my blog.

I submitted it, and I've been wincing ever since. These gals are snarky and tell it like it is, so when you ask for their opinion, you gotta be willing to take it. Out of 5 smacks, I got a lonely 2. From reading previous reviews, I take this to mean something between "a waste of time" and "doesn't completely suck." Still happy there was no talk of wanting to stab their eyeballs, nor any name calling, so all in all, I'll call it a success. At least in the way that I got them to come see me after love LOVING their website for so long (ok, I realize that sounds a little like ass kissing, but it's true). Because, as it says over there, making fun of other people is funny...even if it's me.

Luckily she didn't really rip into me, just didn't seem impressed. And my posts haven't been all that entertaining as of late. I went and read all that is currently scrollable, and it's kinda lame. Princess didn't go into my archives, not that there are some kind of pulitzer prize winning entries there either, but I'd like to think there is at least some 3 smack stuff in there? Hey, how can you not appreciate the in depth analysis of my dog, and then there is the unseen class wars occuring at Six Flags?

She had a couple suggestions that I will attempt to employ. First is trying to get my profile linked again. For any of you who were here when it was that picture of the plate of nachos, that stupid pic took forever to load. Then, like an idiot, I went into the template (also known as the land of random symblos and numbers) to delete just the pic, but poof! the whole thing went away. Anyway, now you can't get any info on who I am. Not that I'm sharing a whole lot. Perhaps I'll just link to my first post. It says a little.

Another is the Quote of the Week thing. If I decide to keep it going (which is questionable since this weeks winner does not seem to be playing along) I'll put a explaination somewhere so people who fall upon it understand. For those who are new, it's just a Blog Quote. Each week the winner is picked by searching for a specific word in blogs which is designated by the previous weeks winner (i. e. last week was 'petty'). The idea is that eventually we will have a string of blogs all somewhat randomly connected...a ribbon through the blogosphere...or river...isn't it beautiful? Though if this weeks winner doesn't give me her word soon, this river may have to course into the somewhat putrid waters of MySpace and bother the Honorable Mention...ick.

Sorry about this enty, I'm not a huge fan of when people blog about their blog. And of course I never do that. Not ever No. Never.

Stay tuned for stories of my inappropriate intoxication and visit to the Queen City of Vermont.

Monday, March 06, 2006

I'm not here!

Well, I'm here. But 'here' isn't the usual place. Just a quick hello from Burlington, VT! I am sitting in the lobby of our Marriot, next to a roaring fire, trying to figure out where to eat. I pick up J from his job interview (gasp!) in a couple hours. More on that if it becomes anything worth writing about.

But I must say, I really like it here. As we drove in towards the city, and topped a hill, the expansive lake laid before us, blue and inviting. The Adirondacks across in New York offer a gorgeous backdrop to Lake Champlain. Burlington itself has the bustle of a city, with a laid back pace of a small town Main Street. But it is cold. And a little on the pricey side. We'll be living in a matchbox if we move here.

But we'll see...

Yay, I'm not at work! But I'll be back tomorrow.

Friday, March 03, 2006

Quote of the Week #5 (petty)

The good thing about the word petty (courtesy of Samson, last week's winner) is that when most people use it in a blog entry, they're bitchin'. And bitchin' makes for some entertaining blogging. Well, sometimes. That is if you ever get around to the bitching part:

Life has been so full of petty annoyances lately that I do not even know where to begin, so I just won't. I know that doesn't make for good blog reading.

No it doesn't.

I waded through some talk of Tom Petty and that racecar guy Petty, but most of it was politics. People calling their governors, town council, sheriff and, of course, George and the Gang, petty. There are soooo many griping-about-politics blogs out there. I guess people need an outlet for their disillusionment, but LORD it is boring.

But people bitch about other stuff too. Like what? Well...

The ladies:
Not that I'm saying that women are inherently mean.... Oh, who am I kidding. Women ARE mean. And petty and spiteful and hormonal and territorial and a whole list of other things

Hmm. School & assignments & quizzes & presentations seem so petty.. So insignificant in the grander scheme of things. Anyone agree with me?

Co-worker hygiene:
I'm going to be at another hospital, a small one where the people should be nicer. I feel petty saying that, but it's the truth and it's how I feel. When people hate their jobs and don't wash their hands and don't care about who they might injure or affect, it really makes me mad.

People who take the Knitting Olympics too seriously:
Can you freakin' believe it? How petty is that? Jane KNIT A LACE STOLE IN 16 DAYS and then some asshat has to go make her feel bad about her accomplishment because it wasn't finished and blocked by the closing ceremonies.

And on and on…

But on top of the heap, I give you


Yeah, the $10 gift card looked pretty lame and petty by comparison. So...blah. People suck. I'm broke, and I don't like babies.

Honorable Mention

There is a crisis in the world of mixology, one that threatens the industry entire. Fixing it will require the whiny hectoring of an incredibly petty man. I am that man.

I tried to contact the winner, but she's a livejournal user, and only allows other livejournal people to comment or contact her. I am not a livejournal user, so...if anyone has a solution to this dilemma, please comment below. I could give the honor to the honorable mention, but I'm afraid he'll think it’s some sort of lame default award. Which, of course, it is.

Update: Since silverwind didn't respond with a word, and MySpace is also some sort of cool kids only club, I have extended an invitation to the Week #2 winner at to provide a word. She won before I started doing the word thing...let's hope she appears.

Thursday, March 02, 2006

I'm the bitch in the balcony

I'm sure Ms. Ryan was nice and interesting on Oprah yesterday. I wouldn't know because her mouth was too distracting. There must be some botox action going on there too, because her face was as smooth and shiny as Pink and Pretty Barbie, with the frozen expression to match. That is except for when those big swollen lips pulled back over her teeth in a strained attempt to smile. She looked like she was having an allergic reaction...or morphing into an Olsen Twin.

Ok, enough celeb bashing. I can be a bitch, but it takes a bigger bitch than me to do it well. I don't even have the balls to get into it with some Meg Ryan fan from the Netherlands who questions my photo choice in, what I can only assume, some lame attempt to say she doesn't look weird...oh, a year ago sure, but not now. No, instead I play nice. You know, sometimes the high road seems more like some Edward Scissorhands plastic tree lined avenue. Sure it's nice and safe, but it's fake.

Last night I saw Good Night, and Good Luck. It was pretty good. Not as good as Capote and Brokeback Mountain. So far, my personal choice for Best Film is Brokeback...though I still haven't seen Crash (which I hear is awesome) and Munich (which I hear is long and kinda boring).

In aha! Bonus! news, Jenny and I got to sit in the balcony last night. When Jenny asked "do they ever seat people in the balcony?" the old lady working the ticket booth said "Only members, but wait by the office door and I'll be right there." So we waited and stood amazed as she unclipped the velvet rope and allowed our admittance into the privileged and elevated seating. Yay! and we were all alone.

Quote of Last Night
After I comment how we are the only people in the balcony.

“What a waste. We aren't even going to be making out.”


Wednesday, March 01, 2006

Asking the tough questions...

The Oprah promo airing for today's show starts with "What happened to Meg Ryan?" Then they run sound bites of her talking about her marriage to Dennis Quaid and her Chinese baby adoption. But what I want to know is, "What happened to Meg Ryan’s face!?" They showed clips of the interview and her trout pout has her looking like she's gearing up to play The Joker in the next installment of the Batman movies.

Do you think Oprah will have the balls to ask? Oh, I hope so.