is it just me?

Friday, July 29, 2005

 

celeb news

today on E Online:

GOING POSTAL: President George W. Bush signing a bill to allow a post office near Ray Charles' Los Angeles studios to be named after the late music legend. The Ray Charles Post Office will be unveiled Aug. 24, which would have been Charles' 75th birthday.

A post office? Really? Becuase when I think Ray Charles, I think...mail. Every time. First of all, I did not think most post offices were named. Second of all, if they are named, do we want them named for singing stars? I mean, Genius or no, I don't think it fits. Thirdly, this requires a signature from the President? Isn't he kind of busy? Doesn't have have better things to do than name post offices? I mean, there's little league to watch, jogging, perhaps a visit to the ranch, maybe the odd insult of a foreign dignitary. I really don't think we should be bothering him with things like post offices. Though, I wonder when was the last time (if ever) George Bush stood in line at the post office.

Also on E Online today (copyrights be damned)

GET LOST: Adewale Akinnuoye-Agbaje (Oz, The Mummy Returns, The Bourne Identity) joining the cast of ABC's Lost, playing Emeka, a mysterious man dwelling on the island.

So, I don't watch Lost but all I want to say is if that guy is gonna get famous he is definitely going to need to change his name. That just doesn't work at all.

Wednesday, July 27, 2005

 

Linguistics

Yesterday I spent the entire bus ride home trying to decide if the people in front of me were speaking Chinese or Japanese. The ridiculous part is that I don't speak Chinese OR Japanese, but somehow I have convinced myself that I can tell the difference. Like this is my superpower or something (though, if that really is my only superpower then I am an even bigger dork than I realized). I also think I can tell if people are Chinese or Japanese, and this helps with the whole language thing. But I listened for 10 minutes (again, I left my reading material at work) and though I am pretty sure it was Chinese I cannot be positive. I would have guessed that two participants were Chinese, but the third guy looked Japanese. I will likely die not knowing, unless I ask them which seems weird.

As for telling people apart, it really comes down to the clothes. Especially on young people. No one follows a trend quite like Japanese teens. They have a tendency to be meticulously dressed, often in the latest fashions. Apparently everything is very expensive in Japan so here in the U.S. even expensive things seem not so bad so they can wear $150 jeans and Marc Jacobs shoes and think nothing of it. Have you noticed that a lot of major clothing catalogs have special info for customers in Japan? I think they buy a lot of stuff. Chinese young people on the other hand often wear brightly colored outfits with wacky English that says things like Sunshine Cloudy Day, Good Friend. Enjoy for Dancing! and have a picture of some little cartoon animal.

There are a lot of Chinese students in my department here. On one of the first days of orientation when I was still a student, I walked in carrying my bike helmet. The first and last conversation I had with a guy from China went like this:

Peng: You come here bicycle? I come here bicycle!
Me: Oh yeah? Great. Where do you live?
Peng: blank look
Me: Where do you live? Where is your house?
Peng: It, uh.., Badger...Parkway?
Me: Oh. Well, nice to meet you.

the end. After spending the first few weeks of class is business attire, making all the regular grad students look bad, Peng went shopping. He showed up one day in brand spanking new jeans, brand spanking new white tennis shoes, and a sweatshirt with a picture of an eagle (I swear I am not making this up) that said God Bless America. Apparently he bought it all at Wal-Mart. God bless america indeed.

On a side note to this story, when traveling abroad I like to tell myself that people cannot tell I am American. But you know what? They can tell. We give off a certain unmistakable odor that we ourselves cannot smell but foreigners have a sixth sense for. This all came home for me when I was traveling in Moscow in September. I was attempting to cross a busy street, and a woman bumped in to me. She turned, took one look and said "Oh, excuse me. I wasn't looking." In perfect English. That's right, in one single second she knew I was definitely not Russian and definitely did not speak any Russian. I was crushed. I mean, Russia of all places. I don't think I necessarily look Russian (whatever that means) but I don't like to think I give off such a strong "I am absolutely totally not from here" vibe. I mean, that's why tourists get robbed all the time. Because they can tell we're tourists and know we are easily confused. I am still trying to find that place where I blend in, but I think the key is to work on my outfits. And it is very important to carry the right type of bag. I mean, other than the dark socks, the multi-colored backpacks are one of the surest signs of a European tourist. I am going to Peru next week where I definitely won't fit in. So I won't even try. I'll just wow em with my height.

Incidentally, I go to these places for work. Overall my job is kind of regular but it does involve a small amount of international travel which makes it seem mysterious and exciting. It makes people feel jealous of my job, but if they had it all to themselves they'd probably want to give it back.

Tuesday, July 26, 2005

 

University Diplomas!

A recent offer received via email (and I quote):

Obtain a prosperous future, money-earning power, and the prestige that comes with having the career position you've always dreamed of. Diplomas from prestigious non-accredited universities based on your present knowledge and life experience.
If you qualify, no required tests, classes, books or examinations.
Confidentiality assured.

Then they give a number to call to get your diploma in two weeks. And then, inexplicably at the bottom of the message it says

in 1914 Buffy the Vampire Slayer offhand. Don't get excited!
Britney Spears in 1865.

what the hell. But now I know that I wasted four years of my extremely valuable time in college when I could have gotten a degree from a "prestigious non-accredited university" (that's my favorite part). Damn. I could be using that money for something good right now, since I would have a prosperous future anyway. But what's that weird stuff at the bottom? Trying to fool the spam catchers?

I also received a message the other day with the subject "You won't find anything better Alfonso". Alfonso? Who's named Alfonso? If you're trying to trick people pick a more common name than Alfonso. Wasn't he on Silver Spoons? Has anyone used that name since? I don't think so, Desdemona.

Monday, July 25, 2005

 

weekend in review

At what point do we decide that the world has enough stuff? Perhaps when they start making things like this. They were selling these at Menard's this weekend. Menard's is like a cheapy Home Depot. And is has sort of Wisconsin flair. If you want one of these things go to menard's because they were a lot cheaper. My question is: what's the microphone for? do people really want to sing along?

the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth

This weekend my outlaws (aka my husband's parents) came to visit. His mom has this funny habit of asking a lot of questions that she already knows the answer to. It's what I imagine it's like to testify in court when you've been prepped. I know (from tv) that lawyers tell you what questions they're gonna ask you so you can practice and not say things you shouldn't. That's how I feel when I talk to her. But if someone asks you the same question enough times, you start to wonder if you aren't lying. And I wonder what would happen if I all of a sudden gave a different answer. Because if she knew I was lying she would have to admit that she'd asked that question before. It's almost as if she's trying to document something, and wants to be sure she has it right. It might also be like being questioned by the police. But since she is neither a policewoman or a lawyer I have no idea why she does it unless she actually is trying to bore me to death.

it's raining men

Last night a guy I know had a party to raise money for a charity bike ride that he's having. He knows some people that work at a local bar and arranged to have them donate the space for his party. Apparently prior to the party there were some friends of his that didn't know he was gay. Approximately 1.5 hours into the party anyone who did not know that was really not paying attention. The bar was filled with well coiffed boys. There were tons of boys and then about five straight couples gathered in one corner. Gay men have a way of making straight people look bad. Or maybe it was just that the gay men were new york and the straight people are all wisconsin. I don't know why, we just look boring and frumpy. Though I am pleased to report that more than one boy thought my husband was gay. I actually would have felt sad if none of them did. It also kind of made me want to hang out at gay bars, though I think I would go alone. Or with only women. Gay bar + straight guy = bad combination.

nip/tuck
have you seen this show? It's good. I had seen a few episodes on tv but I never quite figured out what time it was on and I can't ever remember what channel FX is. But then my sister lent me the entire first season dvd. I have decided that tv shows on dvd are a) genius and b) like crack. It's so addictive. You can just sit and watch for hours. And it's much better than having to remember silly things like what day it is, or what time something comes on. You can just sit and watch commercial-free indefinitely. It's so great. But the only bad thing about watching hours upon hours of nip/tuck is that the people in that show are really screwed up. and after a while it gets depressing. everyone is cheating on everyone and they are all still miserable and want plastic surgery. yet I still want more. There are only two more episodes left on the dvd. I went online and found out htat season 2 will be available at the end of august but I can pre-order from amazon. But that would mean admitting I have a problem.

Friday, July 22, 2005

 

lucha libre!

Yesterday I was scanning the New York Times online when I came across this which is one of the craziest things I have seen in a while. Basically, there is this new WWF type wrestling league which features indigenous women. In Bolivia. Now, I have a greater interest that most in all things Bolivian since I spent a semester there when I was in college. The indigenous women in Bolivia, in some bizarre colonial vestigewhich no one can quite explain, wear bowler hats and these big skirts. And apparently (according to the photo of a cholita flying through the air) that is also what they wear when the wrestle. Now, WWF is crazy enough. But in developing countries everything is a little less regulated. You can buy prescription medication by the pill without a prescription, stoplights are helpful suggestions but not mandatory, and crosses by the side of dangerous roads are lovingly referred to as 'caution signs'. So wrestling must be insane. Lucha Libre in Mexico is supposed to be like celebrity death match with spangly costumes and full head masks. I would pay big bucks to see this, though apparently it only costs $1. It might even be worth a trip to Bolivia.

Wednesday, July 20, 2005

 

trying to find a way to age like wine

This much is true: getting old sucks. I do not know this from personal experience, as I am still young. But from everything I can see, it does not look too great.

Yesterday at work I had to go to a retirement party. The lady who is leaving is 72 years old. She has been a secretary in this department for something like 28 years. If I am reitirng form a secretarial position at 72 I will be really pissed. In any case, despite the ice cream (which was qualified in the email invite as "free") it was miserable. The truth is, no one cares that she's leaving. And retirement parties for people who haven't accomplished that much are particularly bad. The most they could say about her was that she did a good job overseeing the re-decoration of our building some time in the 1980s. Seriously. That was all they had. And if you saw my building you would realize that's even less than it sounds like. Apparently she took the job because the guy had a nice typewriter. That was 30 years ago. Then, like any other retirement party we have here we had to have a long recap of how technology has changed (for some reason they're obsessed with this). The retiree ended this by saying "and then computers were here to stay". Mercy. Since I am staff they asked me to contribute to her gift. I have never worked with this woman a day in my life, I feel sure she doesn't know my name, yet I am supposed to give $10 for her quilting store gift certificate? Honestly. It made me want to poke my eyes out.

I had already spent the afternoon thinking about how I don't want to get old. And then I got home to find this month's Mayo Clinic Health Letter in my mailbox. Now, this is not something I would subscribe to on my own. My husband's grandma bought me a subscription to that and Smithsonian magazine for Christmas. This combination has succeeded on getting me on every old person's mailing list known to man. I get offers for hearing aids, craftmatic beds, "european tour vacations", and wide variety of other things I don't want. Anyway, the health letter really doesn't have too much information that is of use to me. But yesterday's issue was particularly distressing.

The front page story was "Heart Attack: Get Help Without Delay". Hopefully this was not a news flash. Then there was an inside story on anesthesia options. The first sentences: "You'll soon have hip surgery. Because you previously had a heart attachk, your doctor is concerned, and wants you to meet ith an anesthesia specialist to review your health status." Basically, your heart is shot, your bones are giving out and we're afraid surgery could kill you. But what else is new? Then there was a box about exercising with arthritis. Then, on page 6 I see an article titled "Marital trouble". Now, I am not experiencing any marital trouble, but it seemed a bit more relevant than angioplasty and arthritis. First sentences: "The TV is blaring. Telling your husband to turn the volume down and get his hearing checked just sets off the same old argument. He knows his hearing is bad, but he doesn't want to get a hearing aid. And, he says, he'd just as soon not hear your nagging anyway." I am not kidding. That is a direct quote. Please just kill me now. And then, if it wasn't bad enough, in the box in the marital article there were some Signs of Respect to help your relationship, the second being: "Being grateful for each day you have together." In other words, don't be mean today because you could be dead tomorrow. The day I read the Mayo Clinic Health Letter and three or more articles relate to me, I will sign that living will and request to move on. Because obviously it's all a steep, fast downhill from there.

***
To give credit where due, the title of this post is from a Todd Snider song. The song starts "I am an old timer, too late to die young now." It's a great song, as are many todd snider songs. If you've never heard em you should. I guarantee you'll laugh.

Monday, July 18, 2005

 

Oh $*%&!

Yesterday we were driving down the highway and we saw a billboard that had kind of a cartoony picture of a guy falling of a ladder with the title of this post as the caption. It was for lawyers who defend people who have had workplace accidents. I mean, really. That's the best you can do? I am sure that good marketing people are hard to find, but I think we can do better than someone says "Oh shit!" as they fall off a ladder. Honestly.

Yesterday I was grocery shopping. Just in case I forgot that I live in Wisconsin, they have an entire area in the grocery store devoted to jerky. Mostly beef, though I am sure there were some other jerkified meats in there. Does any other state have a jerky aisle? Actually, they refer to it as the 'Jerky Outlet' which does not make it any better. In addition to the jerky section the dairy section here is about two acres. They have more milk than you can possibly imagine, two aisles of cheese and a cooler the size of des moines filled with sour cream. We are America's Dairyland after all. Do you judge people by what is in their cart at the grocery store? I do. And I feel terrified that everyone does the same to me.

Since the theme for today is random, I thought I would mention some other things that have caught my eye recently. One is a church that is named Peace thru Christ Lutheran (I think) Church. Would it really have killed them to spell out the word 'through'? I mean, I don't find thru very spiritual. It makes it seem like a quickie church. I am generally opposed to intentional misspellings, but it seems especially egregious in the case of a church. Kwik Mart is one thing. Peace thru Christ another altogether.

On the drive from here to a town called Black River Falls where we go to see some of my in-laws, there is a place of business. Their slogan is "You be the judge". I have absolutely no idea what their business is. It is impossible to tell. But they are really, really fond of their slogan. In addition to having it written in a permanent plastic sign on the roof, they also have a large painted sign closer to the road which says it again, only on that one judge is in all caps. Oh, and there's a picture of a fence. It is so weird. If I am the judge, I say they really need to emphasize the name of their business a little more.

Not far from the judge on the same road there is an old painted sign. It features what is supposed to be a bashed up car that looks to be from the 70s. The caption is "It was only beer but the end was death." I like it. It's succinct. To the point. I think perhaps they could have added a warning about not drinking and driving for the less perceptive, but there you have it.

If you keep driving down this same road you will also pass the Baraboo Candy Company, Home of the Original Cow Pie. The lesson here is: if you need a few laughs, drive down Highway 12 between Madison and Baraboo, and pay close attention to everything.

Some more advice: if you are feeling down, listen to the song "Video Killed the Radio Star" by the Buggles. If you are still in a bad mood after that song, let me know and I will mail you $1. I know what you're thinking - how am I supposed to listen to it? The answer is simple. You need Real Rhapsody. (This is not a paid endorsement, but if anyone at Real Rhapsody is reading just let me know and I would be happy to say many more nice things for a small fee.) It is a totally cool online music service where you pay $10/month and can listen to as many songs and radio stations as you'd like. The only trick is you can't download. Well, you can for 79 cents per track. But it is great. They have almost everything. You can try it for free for some amount of days. And if you're cheap like my friend Chad you can probably do the free thing more than once with different email addresses. But if you like to listen to music while at work and you don't like to buy cds rhapsody is for you. Did you just hear the tail end from some old favorite on the radio and now you are dying to sing along to the whole thing? Rhapsody. Feeling nostalgic for your high school theme song? Rhapsody. Want to know if you want to buy a cd or if the one song you heard is the only good one? Rhapsody. It's great. It's not expensive. You should try it. The end.

Tuesday, July 12, 2005

 

who's the chump, chump

On Friday night we went out to dinner to a local seafood place. It looked packed so my husband dropped me off to put our name in, and went to park. He was gone for approximately three days. When I finally found him floating face down in the lake...just kidding. I found him in the parking lot looking pissed. Apparently he had parallel parked on the street in front of the restaurant. After getting in to the space, a woman came rushing over and said she didn't think she'd be able to get out. Her car was the brand new super fancy mercedes parked in front of him. Then all of her friends, with the men outfitted in tropical print shirts and loafers with no socks, come over to inspect. My husband offers to move. None of them really wants to say "yes, move your car" so they just sit there staring at the situation making it clear that if he so much as breathes on their car they'll take him to court and sue for all he's worth. Now, I have a nice enough car. It doesn't have dents. I don't want to wreck it. It would be one thing if I had a 78 Gremlin covered in Bondo. But clearly I a) don't want to mess up my car either and b) am a good enough driver that I haven't so far. at one point a friend of the lady's leans over to inspect the bumper and says "what's that? oh...it's just a fly." are you serious? now we're flicking flies off the bumper? give me a break. eventually my husband moves the car and they all sit there and watch. fortunately I was blissfully unaware of all of this sitting inside the restaurant and fortunately he is both calmer and a better driver than I am so it's really good that it was him and not me. but the question is: did you get rich by being a jerk, or does being rich turn you in to a jerk? it's so hard to tell.

after the drama and a quick walk around outside, we went in to have a drink while we waited. At the bar we run in to a guy my husband used to work with and his girlfriend. they're nice enough, not close personal friends or anything, but enjoyable enough to have a drink with at the bar. We compared notes about how long we had been waiting, and we had been there about 20 minutes longer. Given the hour long wait, this is significant. The question then is: do you offer to change your party to 4 and have dinner together? Left to our own devices we would not have called them up and invited them to dinner with us. We only see them at group social functions. We don't do anything. But then our buzzer goes off. What now? Do we invite them with us? See if we can get a table for 4 instead of 2? Frankly, the half hour at the bar was really enough for me. We decide to let fate decide - if they seat us a two top we'll eat alone. If it's a four top we'll go get them. They take us to a two top. Saved...until ten minutes later they are seated directly behind us. Ay yay yay. Awkward. But everyone survived. I don't think they wanted to have dinner with us either. But I did feel hopelessly mean and anti-social.

Another thing about people with nice cars. I think you shouldn't be able to have a really nice car if you aren't a good driver. I went to a fancy college and a lot of people there drove really fancy cars. Then you see people unable to parallel park said fancy car, or poorly merging, or whatever else, and you think: you really don't deserve a bmw. You should have a corolla. Then we wouldn't have to deal with all those bad drivers in giant suv's. A girl from my dorm's daddy bought her a brand new red acura and it was nice. She did not know how to pump gas. Her excuse was that she was from Jersey where all the gas is full serve. While this is true, it's really not that hard. If you can get in to college, you can learn to pump gas. Trust me. I and several other people offered to teach her how. But no. She would wait for her boyfriend to come in from out of town and fill her gas tank. I say take back that Acura and buy that moron a bicycle. honestly. Sometimes I wonder if someone else still fills her tank for her. Maybe she went back to Jersey where she belongs.

Thursday, July 07, 2005

 

people, people, people

I will admit right here that I love People magazine. I have a subscription. I read every page. I don't just like the celebrity photos, I enjoy those stories in the back about the people with 57 foster kids and the lady who says Jesus wants her to crochet for soldiers in Iraq. I may be the only person in America who subscribes to both People and The Economist. In the average week I read a much larger percentage of People, but you have to get your news somewhere.

Anyway, last week in People there was a headline (and I am not making this up): HELP! My Baby's Head is Flat! I laughed out loud. It's a story about parents whose babies head have flat spots (isn't that all babies?) from too much lying around. So now they are putting on these freaky head re-shaping helmets to cure the flatness. Honestly. This is an insane world we live in. I would definitely be much too embarrassed to be interviewed for that article.

On another People note, perhaps you will recall that a while ago I told you about another blog called Everything is Wrong With Me. So back then I said that his blog is what made me want to have my own, which is true. Shortly after I started mine (like one post after) he made an offer on his site to link to other blogs. So, since about a billion people read his and about one person reads mine I thought "hey, that could be my ticket to blog stardom" or at least 2 readers who I don't know (besides my #1 superfan Jane). So I emailed him and told him I wanted a link. So he emails me back a form message which says basically that he is god's gift to the internet and he's about to be famous on Comedy Central and he has an agent and so he's trying to spread the word about his blog. Because of this, in order to get a link you have to write a post about his blog with links in your own (hence my previous post which you now know what not out of the goodness of my heart), and you have to send a link to ten of your friends. When I first read this, I thought "Fuck that. What a douchebag." But as you know I changed my mind. I realized that I didn't want to tell everyone I know about this because then I can't make fun of them, and I realized even if I did tell everyone I know I would still only have about 5 readers. So I did all the stuff, harassed my friends, changed the code on my template to allow links, etc. He finally put up a "Friends and Lovers" list. The lovers are the blogs he really likes. The friends are the rest of them (mine included) with very small type and very little incentive to check them out. So, after pimping him I basically get an honorable mention, a certificate of participation, but no real award. But that's okay.

So, what does this have to do with People magazine you ask? Well, in their recent 50 Hottest Bachelors issue, Jason Mulgrew is in there. I am not kidding. So then I realized maybe he was serious about getting famous. I am not sure if that makes it better or worse, since if you're in People magazine do you really need me to email my ten friends and write a post about you? I don't think so. But the funny part is a fair bit of his blog is about how disgusting he is. To read the thing you'd think he's 350 lbs, dirty, and basically sweating bourbon and cheese fries. In my mind he was not at all attractive. And then BOOM he's on the hottest in america list with the likes of Usher and Orlando Bloom who are both genetically blessed, though frighteningly cheesy. And he doesn't look bad. This is actually a problem for him. He has now spent several posts trying to convince people that it was the stylists and the lighting, and that in real life he looks way worse. In several follow up interviews he sent in a photo that makes him look like a child molester. But it's kind of hard to talk about what a loser you are when america's number one entertainment magazine has said you are a hot and eligible bachelor with a funny blog. It just alienates the real losers who are sitting in their basements reading his blog thinking "That asshole, I thought he was one of us." Fame is tricky, my friends, fame is tricky.

 

women and men

yesterday I was in line at a campus deli. the man in front of me was wearing women's clothing. business clothing. A black pencil skirt, some knee high black boots with chunky heels (okay, not really businessy but still), and turquoise shirt. the odd part was that despite his outfit he was not trying to pass himself off as a woman. He had a normal, short, conservative, generic guy haircut. Generic guy glasses. No wig. No makeup. No manicure. He carried a woman's purse (a big one like your mom has), a woman's wallet. I found it baffling. I sort of think of cross dressers wanting to look foxy, but maybe I am confusing them with transvestites. I can't imagine why a man would want to wear boring, frumpy, ill fitting Sears business attire. And I would say perhaps he just finds skirts liberating, but then how do you explain the shoes? Those aren't comfortable. So if it is not comfort and it's not looks, he must just really enjoy dressing like a woman.

Where is this guy on the spectrum? I feel like he doesn't really want to be a woman. But clearly he doesn't just want to be a regular man in regular man clothes. My friend decided he's just an out of the closet cross dresser. I guess. But let me tell you - it's weird. The lady working the counter couldn't even look at him as he counted out his seven dollars. Oh, and he eats like a woman. A turkey sandwich and Baked Cheetos, some trail mix and a diet soda. That's lady food. Part of me wanted to know more about him, and part of me felt as though I knew too much already.

While we're on men and women, I would like to say that I recently tried a product that is definitely for men. It's those wet wipes that you're supposed to use instead of toilet paper. I went to a party at a single guy's house, and he had run out of toilet paper and only had those. This would only ever happen to a single guy. Given no good alternative, I decided to try them. My one word review: ew. First of all, I am most often using toilet paper as a way to dry off. This product definitely does not achieve that goal. Secondly, in the case where I am trying to get clean, at this point I have pretty much mastered doing it with dry paper. I understand that, for whatever reason, men have more problems in this area so perhaps they are fond of the wet wipes. Perhaps the association with changing diapers is just too strong. In any case, I will not be purchasing any for my home.

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