my people are funny!

hyundai? hyunDID's more like it.

do commercials come in "classic?" dev showed me this one a few years ago, and it's still worth sharing.

oh, how could i forget

i'd forgotten about these dandy commercials! here's the first. a stark reminder to protect yourself.

given the whole prison photos thing, this really is inconsequential

I've been sick. Knock down, drag out, loopy sick. The kind of sick where you feel so incredibly bad that you think 'wow, I feel so bad, I must be hitting the crucial sick point, thus tomorrow I'll start feeling better' sick, but then you never actually start feeling better. And it's been going on and on and on since last Wednesday. It started out like I was swallowing glass; it quickly went downhill. And, given the nature of mine and Stella's jobs at x doing x, calling in sick? Ha.

So I've been at work sick, which also means I've been teaching sick. Here are the week's highlights from teaching sick (and one actually IS a highlight):

A few weeks ago students enrolled in xxxx xxx were given a revision assignment. They were told to revise the story they wrote the week before; revisions needed to be signifcant. They had to do more than fix grammar/punctuation and/or address my concerns. One student, who I'll call W to keep things simple, is a good writer. Nice ideas, lovely use of language, etc. He got an A on the original assignment. But his first person narrator dies at the end and keeps on narrating. So I make all sorts of comments about how to revise, the limitations of a first person narrator, etc. The next week W turns in his revision. In the first version, the character ODs accidentially. In the revision he ODs on purpose. Uh huh. No other changes. So he doesn't receive a grade. He goes home mad after making an appointment to see me before the next class.

Of course the next class falls this week, as I crawl upon death's door. I'm prepared for a fight. I have my notes ready. He sits down. He looks oddly sheepish. I explain all the reasons why the revision was not an acceptable revision. He agrees! And then admits he talked to his pop, a professor of xxxx, who essentially (drum roll, please) AGREED WITH ME! Told W he didn't fulfill the assignment, that he'd obviously tried to find a loop hole and got called out on it.

So about this time, recounting the story to Stella, I'm all like 'oh, sure, he had to go to a man to find out my advice was right' - snivel snivel (remember, I can't even talk at this point) - but then we suddenly realized something awesome. In an age where parents are quick to defend their children, no matter what (even when said childt might be wrong - and accountability is out the window), this pop earned props by telling W that he, uh, didn't follow through. He was wrong.

Made me feel better.

Now, about the student who emailed to say 'I talked with my advisor about my grades. Now I want to talk to you" - ??? Hi, I'm your teacher. The one who says every day in class 'We're not all natural writers. If you have concerns, come talk to me.' And it's what - week 11? Love it.

Almost as much as Stella loves the band across the street.

Word.

just plain speechless

Well, as most people who know Stella and me can attest, we're not often shocked into silence. We have things to say. Good things, mostly. Occasional bad things. We try to be reflective. We try to be critical. But holy smokes. Sometimes even we, the snarky girls, have nothing to say.

This morning we finally decided to visit the Abu Ghraib photos and videos posted on Salon.com a few weeks ago. We've actively avoided it, mostly because we weren't sure how much we could stomach. And let me tell you, 279 photographs and 19 videos later, I'm sick. I'm saddened. I'm outraged. I'm disgusted. I'm speechless. Literally. Now the government has finally, as of Tuesday, agreed to release said photographs and videos. If you have not seen them, please visit salon.com. If you're not already a member, you'll sign on for a day pass and watch some ads, then have access to the site.

Everyone should see these. Why? you might ask. Simple. That some members of our military thought these photographs would be - what? funny? insightful? just dessert? - is appalling. Even more appalling? Except for a handful, really, of soldiers, no one has truly been held accountable for the abuse and degredation of the Abu Ghraib prisoners. And if the people who took these photographs and videos thought they'd be lending some insight into what was happening with the war (sorry, Bush, that's what it is - a war), wow, they did. They showed us how how stupid, unintelligent, small-minded, cruel, un-patriotic, un-American, and ridiculous they are.

There are 10 chapters and it's hard to discern which set of photographs is worse. The detainees placed, naked and hooded, into sexually suggestive photos? The female detainee who is posed and photographed - again in sexually suggestive photos? The corpse who died as a result of interrogation - and whose dead body is degraded as these soldiers expose his body and take photographs with it?

My father fought in the Korean War. He's a veteran. He does not condone war. He is against violence and guns. He refuses to talk about what he experienced in Korean. He is absolutely and totally disgusted by what has happened at Abu Ghraib. Lennox is a veteran. The man has surrounded himself by peace and tranquility and doing all he can to make the world a better place. These are good people appalled and wanting to distance themselves from what is happening in Iraq and has happened at Abu Ghraib.

Stella brought up some good points this morning, as we sat in our living rooms, in our charmed existence, with the dogs and the cat, our ibooks powered up, fully aware that our liberties and independence are safe because of countless brave men and women in the military, and because our forefathers valued and institutionalized those freedoms, including:

• at what point will the general public be moved to action?
• who will stand up and say these things were not done in our name?
• where are the veterans who must surely disagree with these atrocities?
• how are we supposed to have respect for a military that allows this to happen?
• how long can we maintain a difference between supporting the troops as a theorhetical concept and having to support these people as part of that concept?

that stands for always before noon, right?

Good news, y'all! Our friend Lennox is officially ABD!

All of our recent missing him is so more worth it now. If only that dissertation weren't in the way, we could get back to seeing our boy.

Congratulations, friend!

mem'ries...

I've been looking on YouTube for a clip of a Colbert Report piece, but I came across this instead. I'd seen it long, long ago, and this reminded me of how good it was to laugh out loud at my tv. You've got to let yourself get to about 2/3 through before the best pieces begin. Thank you YouTube. And thank you Stephen Colbert.

i'm begging you. please.

Okay, so we live in a collegey part of town. Most of the time, that's cool. Our neighborhood is diverse, with families living next door to students of all stripes. On random nights, we'll come out to find that some art student has decorated all of the trees in the neighborhood with dangling strings of glass beads that glisten in the breeze. There's the off chance that the band practicing across the street will be full of good musicians -- as was the house on the corner of Harrison a few summers ago when our friend Yahto lived there with his bandmates.

But what we've got across the street this year . . . is. fucking. killing. me. I'm right now, right this very second, this instant, talking myself out of tossing the computer aside to walk over to beg them, shout at them, demand of them, that they LEARN A NEW FUCKING SONG!!!!! Or ANY SONG!!!!

JUST STOP PLAYING THE SAME FUCKING SIX NOTES OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AGAIN!!! For chrissake.

I'm serious. Speeding up and slowing down your three-notes-up-three-notes-down guitar scale does not a new song make. And hitting the hi-hats two dozen times does not good listening make.

In this house, we're all about promoting self-expression through interesting experiments with music. But these junior McGees obviously don't have shit to say.

Maybe I should just buy some sheet music to slip under their door. Anything to stop this goddamn racket. Can the police give tickets for sucking?

Bad news update: We've just dropped to four notes for the repeating. Somebody put me out of my misery. I'm begging you. Please. Help.

again, I can't tell!

I'm usually pretty good at reading people, but I have no idea whether Greg Behrendt, author of that genius tome He's Just Not That into You, is in on the Colbert joke. Any ideas?

debate over wikis

In academia especially, a debate is raging about how wikis like Wikipedia can and should be used in research. In December, the science magazine Nature published a study in which they compared the science entries in the online version of the Encyclopaedia Brittanica to Wikipedia's. The findings bode well for Wikipedia, and guess who got pissed.

That's right, EB. They fired back. And Nature is firing back back. Either way, we've got a reminder to double-check the accuracy of all sources, no matter what they are. Unless you're typing on an Internet blog. Then you can just perpetuate any and all rumors and unsupported "facts" with wild abandon. Which I embrace.

cue time-warp waviness

Inga and I are watching The 39 Steps on TCM. I keep being tickled (see the old-timey language!) by the dialogue and props, and Inga just looked at me and said, "I don't know if you've noticed, but this is kind of an old movie." And then we did the math -- it was made 71 years ago! Holy Frijoles.

Among the best reminders of where we're at today:

1. "How far is it?"/ "About 40 miles."/ "How long will it take to get there?"/ "About 2 hours."

2. Inga: "God, I'm so glad vaudeville's not our only form of entertainment." Word.

this can't be real

Can it?

Effing Windows

Voicestick, a new VoIP thingie, seemed as if it would be a good little Mac-friendly product. I mean, it looks like a Mac product, all white and tiny and cute. As I'm reading about it, I'm thinking, Egads! I could call people all over the planet for super-cheap! Family in Germany and England! Friends in Japan! Dev, once he's left the continent! I could take it with me to Europe and use my cell phone as if I were in the US. Amazing!, I'm thinking.

Then, I see this:

What Operating Systems are supported?
Windows 2000 and Windows XP.

Why bother with all that development and design (which is pretty obviously copying the Mac sensibility), and then launch it only for Windows?

mas!

The Daily Show was in fine form again last night with its bit on VP Cheney's "downtime requirements" rider as reported by the Smoking Gun. Found it! Enjjjjoy!

the dumbest fucking thing i've seen today

An online store called Garnett Hill is selling Chuck Taylor All-Stars without their laces as "slip ons." WTF?

so much spare time

If I'd have had a video camera when I was 14, I admit I'd have been pulling stuff like this constantly. I was all about costume changes, playing with makeup, and lip synching. Rock.

noodles, please?

Stella is sick.

:(

oi boy

Wow, so it's hard to believe, but once upon a time, this boy broke Inga's heart, truly, madly, deeply. He's a wonderful poet, and it's lovely that he's doing well now. Back in the day he had a girlfriend. I was like the pseduo-girlfriend; I knew it, he knew it, damn. Everybody knew it. Here's what I remember:

• long conversations about writing, writing, and more writing
  
• the 'er' at the end of my name rather than the 'a' - ala Inger rather than Inga
• he was friends with my true love, the Irishman, who loved him, too
  
• the first night he kissed me, he pointed out the constellations in the evening sky
  
• the parting was bad - very bad
  
• at a friend's wedding years later, he'd forgotten the name of my dead dog
  
• the night he finally apologized for all his wrongs, it no longer mattered

But Stella, bff that she is, thinks I've aged better, even though he's younger! Thank god for Chanel eye cream.

But 'Matt' seems to run in the snarky world. This is the Matt Stella knew!

sad but true

So I must digress for just a minute or two. I see that Stella mentioned coffee and my travels several entries ago. One thing I really appreciate about Europe in general and Spain in particular is the coffee culture. The first time I visited Spain, several years ago, there was nary a to-go cup to be seen. Coffee while you wait for the train? Stand at the kiosk in the middle of the station and drink your coffee out of a porcelain cup. Coffee while out walking about? Take a seat at a cafe, order up a cafe con leche, and leisurely sip your morning/afternoon/evening cup of coffee. Afterall, coffee is social. Spaniards are social. Sitting and drinking coffee from an actual mug, rather than a reinforced paper cup, is social and cosmopolitan.

So guess what? You got it.

Starbucks.

In Madrid. We passed not one, not two, not three, but four Starbucks. We didn't go inside any - but we did stand in front of the windows, gawking, and sure enough, Spanish Starbucks look just like any ol' Starbucks in the States. Same color scheme. Same furniture. Same coffee mugs and thermoses on the shelves. Same green aprons. Same reinforced paper cups - not one real porcelain cup and saucer to be seen.

What's the world coming to?

spain glorious spain...almost

So I'm back from Spain. Between 9 pm Friday evening and 5:30 am Monday, I slept a total of 33 hours. I think I'm mostly recovered from the jet lag, which always seems worse coming back rather than going. But Spain was great, as always.

We flew from x to x and then into Madrid. From Madrid we took a flight to Alicante, which is on the Costa Blanca. Once in Alicante, we were met by Angus, a jolly ole soul originally from the Isle of Man. He drove us to Quesada, where we planned on staying at a friend's vacation home for five days. Please note the 'planned' in the previous sentence. Quesada (and, oddly, we stayed in a villa almost idential to the one in the link - weird), it turns out, is really in the middle of nowhere. Nowhere. Quesada was our chosen destination for its proximity to the Sea, for its idyllic ambiance, for the fact that our friends who own the home were letting us stay there for free.

However, Quesada is...nowhere. Seriously nowhere. There are no trains close by. There are no buses (well, we know there's a bus because there are bus stops and posted schedules, but truth be told, we never actually saw a bus. And everyone we asked about the bus...well, they'd never seen it either). We ended up staying two nights. Sure, they were 2 really well rested nights, but not Spain. Sure, Quesada is in Spain, but how is it not Spain? So glad you asked. To wit: there are almost no native Spanish speakers in Quesada. Most of the homes seem to be occupied by English, German, or Scandinavian families who don't speak English. There's a smattering of 'Irish' and English 'pubs' and at one restaurant in Quesada proper, when we ordered cafe con leche, we were served...Nescafe with powered milk. No kidding. I could not make this up.

After enduring quaint, English-speaking Quesada without a car for 48 hours, it was time to make some serious decisions. So we called our friends in Alicante, who we'd planned on seeing in a few days.

Where are you? they asked.

Quesada, we said. But we're stuck. Help us.

Call us in an hour, they said. We hung up the payphone and, heads hung low, our visited the 'English' pub for a cerveza, eyes on the clock. In an hour we called back, our joie de vivre slowly beginning to slip away from us.

We can't find this place you say you are, our friends said. Are you sure you know where you are?

Trust us, we cried, we know, realizing that if our actual Spanish friends who live on the actual Costa Blanca can't find us, we were likely doomed (note that in the map provided above under the Costa Blanca link, Quesada is nowhere to be seen. Creepy. It's as if the English/German/Scandinavians in Quesada have made it vanish to the human eye - you only find it if you've made solid plans to stay there).

How do we get out of here? we implored. The idea of any more time in Quesada was, by turns, making us queasy, agitated, and longing for the amber waves of home.

Three enterprising Spanish friends and an hour later, we were back in Angus's car, driving to the nearest railroad station. 40 minutes after that, we were checking into a hotel in Alicante, just round the corner from our friends' apartment. A mere 2 hours after that, we sat outside a cafe, eating tapas, surrounded by Spaniards, imbibing vino tinto, and relaxing, as we were finally somewhere really in Spain. Next ~ the adventures of Inga & company in fabulous Alicante, my new favorite city.

way snarkier than we could ever be

Dev sent us this bit about the worst thing I've ever heard of to win a basketball game. University of California at Berkeley fans made up a UCLA student named "Victoria" to distract the starting guard of their rivals at the "big game," USC. Check it:

"Victoria was a hoax UCLA co-ed, created by Cal's Rally Committee. For the previous week, "she" had been chatting with Gabe Pruitt, USC's starting guard, over AOL Instant Messenger. It got serious. Pruitt and several of his teammates made plans to go to Westwood after the game so that they could party with Victoria and her friends.

On Saturday, at the game, when Pruitt was introduced in the starting lineup, the chants began: "Victoria, Victoria." One of the fans held up a sign with her phone number."

Here's poor Pruitt (number 42).

In Dev's words: Man, that's cold.

phew.

Good news, y'all ~ the real Lily is back on All My Children. That stand-in was killin' me, and that's saying a lot when you consider that she's already one of the least engaging characters on a show whose current storylines include the revelation that Erica Kane has a son who was stolen from her as a fetus by the doctor preforming her abortion in the 70's.

Sheesh.

cruising for a bruising

Mark one in the column "Things Stella Didn't Know but Now Is Super Pissed About."

Cruise ships are nearly completely unregulated in what they can dump into our oceans. Here's the one prohibition: they can't dump plastic anywhere.

But that's not much, when you look at this list:

• As long as they're 3 miles from shore, they can dump untreated sewage.
• They can dump the waste water from showers, laundries, and galleys (which obviously includes the cleaning chemicals that such water washes away) anywhere other than the Great Lakes.
• If they're 200 miles from shore, they can dump untreated oily water.
• There are virtually no regulations for the diesel emissions that these huge-ass ships produce,
• and they can toss non-plastic garbage out, sometimes as near as 3 miles from shore and sometimes as far (?) as 25 miles from shore.

Regulations, anyone? And some enforcement would be nice too.

what do you get somebody who has everything?

nothing. you get something for somebody who doesn't have everything. or much of anything.

My sister recently introduced me to Heifer International, "a non-profit organization whose goal is to help end world hunger and poverty through self-reliance & sustainability." For $20, you can send a bundle of chicks that will eventually lay enough eggs to provide protein and extra money to a family in need; for $60, you can send seedlings that will grow into trees that prevent erosion; you could send individual livestock animals, like llamas, geese, honeybees, cows, pigs, sheep, and even a water buffalo. An organization could work together to collect enough money to purchase a collection of animals, like the milk menagerie: two goats, a water buffalo, and a cow; the joy to the world collection; the knitting collection. Here is a link to their "catalog."

Finding this organization makes my day. No more unwanted wine glasses or gift cards for my amigas and amigos, that's for sure!

imf

For a few months, I kept flipping past this channel on our new cable called IMF because it sounded like something that'd air non-stop professional wrestling recreations by celebrities rejected by the Surreal Life. Or the more obvious - MONEY, MONEY, MONEY! Turns out, it's the International Music Feed! Commercial-free (except for their own) and mostly anchor-free, IMF plays videos from all over the planet. And that's really from all over the planet -- the likes of Japan, Thailand, Brazil, Russia, and South Africa were represented in the hour I watched while straightening the living room this morning.

If you can find it, check it.

ann curry goes to africa

NBC sent Ann Curry to Darfur to cover the ethnic cleansing that everybody knows is happening but we don't do much of anything about.

Not to undermine the fact that somebody other than NPR is covering the genocide, but last year's debut issue of Radar magazine named Curry "TV's Dumbest Anchor," based on a "secret insider poll."

she's off!

So, Inga is in the air as we speak, flying off into beautiful...


Newark, NJ?

Alright, so it's a layover before her flight to Madrid, but she's in the air nonetheless. On the drive to the airport, we lamented that her layover was in the U.S. How much cooler would it have been to spend a couple of hours passing the time sipping espresso at a cafe in a European airport?

Then again, I have a feeling that a Euro-layover would've been in Paris. If that had been the case, they likely wouldn't have had time to sip much of anything as they'd have been spending their layover navigating Charles de Gaulle and would have spent their time in the air praying that a strike hadn't started while they were crossing the Atlantic.

But I bet even a styrofoam cup of coffee sloshing at a full-out run at CDG would kick the ass of one in Newark.

Holy Crap -- or Carp?

What am I supposed to do??!?

the miracle creams of tomorrow

Many of you will recognize this pup as our cutie-pie, Rye. We've been trying one of those new microdermabrasion routines on him for the past week, and we think we see results. He looks like the signs of time have reversed, let's say, a whole YEAR for him. So cute:

Let's Fly Away

So tomorrow it's off to Spain. Thank goodness. It will be so good to get away from here for a spell. Between abortions being outlawed, our wonderful president acting like himself, a homeless man being attacked and set on fire, it will be great to leave the country. And, happily, because of my Scandanavian coloring, I can pretend to be not an American while overseas! Don't get me wrong. I love where I live. But right now...not such a good time to be proud to be an American. Bicker amongst yourselves if you wish.

Here are things I am looking forward to in Spain:

• wine
• cheese
• good bread
• the Reina Sofia
  
• Campers

blogging from Tehran

Salon.com has an article today about young Iranian bloggers and the insight that seeing individuals' views can give us outside Iran. (You'll need to sign in with your own account or watch an ad for a day-pass.)

We all know that our government and our media do not accurately represent the feelings of all (or even most) Americans. Why do we, worldwide, so often forget that? One of my saddest thoughts is knowing that my government and the representation of me by my own media paints such an inaccurate picture of my circle of friends around the world and that we will be judged as a whole with the crazy right-wingers, the Christian conservatives, the idiot President, the facist military, the drunk teens on MTV and America's Next Top Model, Girls Gone Wild, and the like. Why wouldn't Iranians fear the same en masse judgement?

what's the difference between 2 and 3?

Apparently nothing to the good chefs at the restaurant I call the Orange Juice place. I don't understand this -- if I'm willing to pay full price for a dish that usually comes with three whopping eggs in order to get the two eggs (only one with a yolk please) I really want, why is it impossible to keep yourself from cracking that last egg? I KNOW that it's possible to crack egg number two and STOP. You don't have to crack that third egg.

I know that my breakfast seems picky, but I don't like yolks that much and sometimes want only enough over-medium yolk to be picked up with half a slice of toast. When those extra yolks show up, they throw off the balance of whites. I like the texture of the fried egg white, and it's awesome with a strip of bacon. Ultimately, since breakfast is one of those things I can prepare in my sleep (and often nearly do), I just figure that paying $7.50 for a plate of eggs, a few potatoes, and a couple of bacon strips should warrant at least my getting the eggs my way. And part of my way is with one yolk and only one additional white.

But no. What happens instead? I get the three eggs. What to do? I run the risk of being labeled the trouble-table who sends back extra food and of drawing a befuddled question from our waitress, who will act as if she's never heard my request before, will check her ticket, and will offer to take it back to be remade. No thankyou. Still, I don't want them gooshing (not gushing) all over the plate, their extra, grodie orangey-yellow infecting, soggifying, desalinating all of my other goodies, so I scoop them off my plate and onto a saucer. I scrape away my too-many-eggs, get the look but not the question, and get my eggs to goosh all over the place and still ruin my potatoes and toast.

Why couldn't they just have reined in that third egg?

today's list of things that go without snarking

There are some things that are just so heinous or stupid or terrifying or infuriating that our being pissed about them goes without saying. Or snarking. Here are this weekend's:

• South Dakota + abortions (or do we mean -abortions?)
• the whoring of our students by the Supreme Court
• Mississippi -abortions
• Missouri -abortions
• Samuel Alito
• more prison abuse in Iraq
• our awesome fiscal health
• burning people

Ha. Another truth uncovered.

See! I knew they weren't so cute.

babies are annoying

Stella and I decided to have breakfast out today. Well, actually I decided, late last night, after imbibing wine at our Oscars-viewing party, that we should have breakfast out today. Stella remembered, which was nice of her, so we're at breakfast and lo and behold, seated behind us are two women (one of whom smiled incessantly the entire time - seriously, she would not stop grinning from ear to ear, which leads me to state emphatically that the women is no doubt on a high dosage of antidepressants) and a baby who screamed and screamed and screamed all the way through breakfast. It wasn't a constant scream; oh, no, it was a now and again scream that came out of nowhere, was sprinkled with bits of something sounding like excitement, and of a pitch that must break glass somewhere. Did the smiling moron and her friend actually do anything about said bebe screaming? Did they pick him up? Soothe him? Offer him some more of their blueberry pancakes? No. Of course not. They just sat and ate their breakfast and drank coffee and chatted away, while demon spawn screamed. And screamed. And screamed.

It's important to remind those of you who have decided to have children of the following:

• not everyone wants children
• not everyone finds your child cute
• not everyone appreciates having their meal ruined while you chit chat away and allow the little bebe to effectively run rampant in the restaurant/bar/coffee shop
  

We hold our tongues, those of us who have chosen not to have children, so we won't be mistakenly perceived as, oh, you know, bitter, angry, 30-somethings who're sad and pathetic and who (whisper, whisper) are childless, but sisters with kids, here's a news flash: We hold our tongues because were we to let loose, we'd chew you up and spit you out - we are generally well-rested and not running after demon spawn. We keep up with our reading. We haven't lost our figures. We can do anything we want, when we want - and when we open our mouths to remind you of this, you will shrivel up into tiny specks of unfulfilled lives and lost dreams.

So please don't make it come to this. Quiet the kids up. Don't let them run all over the coffee shop, assuming everyone thinks it's cute and fun. It's so not. If I wanted a tyke to run after and cause general havoc and ruin my coffee time, I'd have one. When I'm paying $5 + for a latte, I want some damn peace.

redemption?

Inga and I agree on this: We think that Natalie Portman's been riding her performance in The Professional for the past decade and that few of her performances since have warranted the fame and attention she's continued to receive. We'll acknowledge that she's cute, but many of her performances have been stiff and uninspired. And we'll even grant the crap she had to deal with in Star Wars. But here, Natalie Portman has found her niche, wethinks. Yessirree!

We also agree on this: Andy Samberg is the best addition to the SNL cast in ... hmmm. Ever? He's responsible for this, and we love him for it:

Simpsons!

From Dev:

a new old tune

Last night, Inga and I went to hear a friend's delta blues band. They played several songs by Memphis Minnie, whose songs were amazing and who apparently lived a colorful life. The woman had 12 siblings, ran away at 13, joined the circus, and maintained a blues recording career for nearly 40 years.

Science AND culture??!? Holy cow.

From Seed: A statistical prediction of Oscar winners for tomorrow night. If this doesn't help me win the $50 in the betting pool, I don't know what will. Hehehehehehehehhehehe. Heh.

more enjoyable in mute

This kid could probably kick your mom in the face and not even think twice about it.

I hope he's not gearing up to cut somebody's head off or fly.

the problem with the stranglehold & karma

So I feel it's important to say that Stella & I really do get along well. We're housemates. We're friends. We're co-workers. I love her boyfriend (platonic love). We have awesome friends. But when Stella is distracted the house could be burning down and she wouldn't hear a word you're yelling at her.

Take yesterday. We drove the mall. This is really no small feat. The mall is not close. The mall is relatively far away and one must drive through oceans of highway to get there. Which we did. We drove those oceans. I leave for Spain on Wednesday and had some things to get, namely a pair of dansko clogs. So we go to the mall. We shop. We have giddy fun. I find some things for my trip. Inga returns some things (note: if you buy something at Anthropologie, make sure the anti-theft sensors are off - poor Inga has twice left two different Anthropologies, driven those oceans home, only to find the anti-theft sensors still one), we stop for a drink and dinner at some shitty pseudo Irish pub (note to people who live in the suburbs - if it's under 30 degrees do not, repeat, do NOT run around the parking lot of some shitty pseudo Irish pub in a halter top, pastel colored skirt, and heeled sandels. You will look like a moron. Honestly. Winter is winter - at least til May or daylight savings, whichever comes first). We then pick up coffee to go and head back to deal with the oceans of highways.

Perfect.

I'm driving. Stella is passengering. She's on the telephone, discussing Friday night plans with Dev. We'd been talking about cancelling plans with Garvey - we were supposed to meet up, but we were tired. We thought we could tell him traffic was bad and we were going to stop to wait it out; we just wanted to go home. Meanwhile, on the phone, Stella and Dev are catching up. Dev had attended a thingy-majig all day and had presented on fill-in-your-imagined-topic-here. He was relaying the events. Stella was very caught up in this conversation. I motioned toward the highway and say "where do I turn off?" She talks, motions vaguely with her arm. I steer in the direction of her arm. She remotions and points me back over the median, back to where I was. I swerve back to where I was. I ask "are you sure this is right? I don't know how to get back" and Stella says "uh, I think" - and she hangs up with Dev. We round the corner on the highway and voila - we're in a strangle-hold. 6:30 traffic heading into the city. Dead stop. And, of course, we have bypassed our exit by miles.

Now, it's important to note - I had no idea where I was going. I was relying on Stella for directions. She knew this. But when she's distracted...

So it took us forever to get home. Stella tried to convince me it was both our faults. Ha. But you know what it really was? Karma biting us in the ass. We'd been thinking of lying to Garvey, you know, the Zen Buddhist among us. The real Zen Buddhist. Great. The moral -- start even thinking about lying, and what you conjure comes true, and even if it gets you dinner out of it, it's bad.

Way to go Stella - the photos look awesome! Two digits awesome.

snarkiest of all

I hate Stella!

Bang.

Check it: I love banned commercials. Especially when they're so damned good.

at least somebody's held accountable 'round here

From Wonkette: The "Duke" gets hard time. Indeedy.

the problem with dogwalking

Stella & I both work at a public you-know-what in the such-and-such. We've both had amazingly awe-inspiring weeks lately. Stella's "the directions aren't clear" student was really just the tip of the iceberg. In the past two weeks, I've dealt with, among other things,

• students complaining about the work load in a 300-level writing course
• student complaining about her classmates being able to read her work - in a 300-level workshop for creative writing
• students coming in for assistance for a senior capstone project in a technology-like field, a project that requires 45 sources, and not really caring one way or another if their work is good
• the realization that the study published earlier this week that stated less than half of all high school students who have taken the ACT are prepared for the level of writing/reading expected of them in college is TRUE - sadly, amazingly, awe-inspiringly true

But don't I digress from the kinds of things you really want to know? For instance:

I saw Henri the Slovakian today. He was, as always, charming and delightful. I met his new dog, he met my new dog, and as we and our dogs parted, I couldn't but help wonder why I was so stupid and did not embark on a torrid affair with him when the opportunity arose. Stella likes to remind me that it's because he has a girlfriend (and even his European-style eye glasses and the accent don't excuse that), the girlfriend lives with him, and after graduate school, no one can use the excuse of "oops" in response to sleeping with someone who is living with his girlfriend. I might have been that girl in graduate school. I don't have to be that girl in my real life. But still. The accent kills me. I think it's good I have a new telephone number these days. Besides, Stella must remind herself (or I suppose I can do it right here) that she has a boyfriend. No wonder she doesn't want me sleeping with someone else's boyfriend.

But it was a lovely day for dog walking. I think we broke 40 and it was sunny and the sky was blue. Seriously, Stella would be lying if she can't acquiese that these things combined make Henri look pretty good. And if you can't take a nice dog walk now and again and run into a former beau, a flame who has always paid you the compliments and batted the eyes at you and can't, for one fleeting moment, feel a bit of regret? Well, then, what's the point?

steve who?

And you thought Rick Steves was just a calm, rational PBS guide through Europe. Who knew he was a calm, rational voice of progressive politics? Here's a guest column he wrote for the Seattle Times.

So not a fucker.

what's so hard to understand here?

I was told by a student last week that the directions for my assignment were "quite unclear." Here are those directions:

"In the text below, circle every main verb."

That's it. The text was immediately below the directions. The word circle tends to mean "enclose in an ink line," right? The term main verb may seem unclear to some people, but those people would likely not be students in a college-level grammar course as was the student who complained. Lastly, every would seem to indicate that the student should not refrain from circling any main verb. What could be clearer? Doing the assignment for the kid, that's what.

What a fucker.