Home for the Holidays

There are a few things that carry over from Christmas to Christmas in Wisconsin. One is champagne on Christmas Eve, one is the tape of Christmas songs played by classical guitar, one is the sound of my mother trying to understand her new electronic equipment. My favorite tradition is the debate about music that occurs when my sister and I open our Christmas CDs from our father.

This year's topic: Which Supertramp album is the best? In the "Breakfast in America" corner is my mother, in the "Even in the Quietest Moments" and "Crime of the Century"(which apparently should constitute one awesome double album if they'd really known what was good for them) corner is my father.

I sit in the "I can't believe my dad bought my sister two Supertramp albums for Christmas" corner.

Happy Holidays!

Mike Huckabee Prefers Rapists to Democrats

My grandmother left the Baptist church after she married my grandfather. I asked her once why she felt compelled to leave the faith in which she was raised, and she told me it came down to cultural shifts that left her feeling undervalued and disrespected(this from a woman whose father was so strict she had to sneak out of her house during Sunday "sitting hours" to see my grandfather play baseball). I can't imagine what her reaction would be to the current Southern Baptist Ambassador Mike Huckabee and this appalling cover-up.

I came to terms long ago with the fact that victims of sexual assault will always face undeserved skepticism and disrepect(Pennsylvania is home to some of the worst, at least lately). Reading about then-Governor Huckabee's behavior towards the victims of Wayne Dumond, and his obviously political decision to value a violent felon's words over the safety of his citizens, makes me dream of dispatching machete justice.

It's terrible that Huckabee let this man go free over the obvously anguished pleas of his victims and their loved ones. It's terrible that he did so at a time when religious zealots were slandering his then underage victim by implying her case was affected by her distant relation to Bill Clinton. It's terrible that he wrote in his own book that he felt the criminal justice system should be more compassionate and yet signed 16 death warrants during his gubernatorial tenure. It's morally reprehensible that his 2002 campaign for governor in 2002 covered up illegal dealings that resulted in the rape and murder of two women.

In a reasonable society, the documents and public statements of the victims of Dumond's crimes would be enough to disqualify Huckabee from contention for the Republican nomination. Of course we do not live in a reasonable society. Huckabee has naturally responded to questions about Dumond by accusing those raising the issue of engaging in the dreaded "partisan politics."

The "partisan slur" defense is hardly new, and it always seems to work in favor of Republicans. Decisions made while in public office are open to public scrutiny. This is why Freedom of Information and Open Records laws exist. Think back to past Presidential campaigns. Michael Dukakis and his opposition to the death penalty. Al Gore's involvement with the internet. John Kerry's "flip-flopping" votes on the Iraq War. These were all incredibly effective attacks on Democratic candidates, and NO ONE DIED as a direct result of their administrative decisions. If the United States press turns out to be too spineless to delve more deeply into this deeply misogynistic and hypocritical chapter of Huckabee's political career, I'm officially changing my party affiliation to Anarchist.

Mike Huckabee spends an absurd amount of time defining himself as the candidate of choice for conservative religious Americans. The obvious choice for voters who want to conserve the lives of their female relations is to not elect him. The choice for the rest of us is to do as my grandmother did and respect women enough to let everyone know what kind of governement executive this man really is.

(Thanks to Jezebel for the post that got me all riled up).

Monday Night Football or Triumph of the Will?

Does anyone else feel like Leni Riefenstahl should be filming the Patriots' games this season? Or am I the only person that sees a resemblance between photos like this:

and this?

Confessions

I have the hots for Graham Chase. It's no wonder I have such a thing for frustrated men reluctantly facing middle age.

Fitter, Happier, Less Productive

The cats are playing with the popcorn I dropped on the floor. I'm taking the advice of a wise individual. Until further notice, it's 1997.

Coming Soon: Dispatches from Drivers' Ed.

Ah, fall

Global warming may have skipped autumn, but that doesn't mean you won't still get a healthy dose of Seasonal Affective Disorder this holiday season. It's that glorious time of year when the leaves turn bright orange for one day and then fall off en masse, the skies are blanketed in clouds that would promise snow if it were 30 degrees cooler, and the only rational response to life is to score some vicodin, buy a bunch of fancy chocolate bars, crawl into bed, and crank up some depressing music(I prefer Portishead, Morcheeba, Massive Attack, and Jeff Buckley, but I'm also currently living in 1997). Some newer options include Jose Gonzalez, Royskopp, Dirty Three, Jens Lekman, Boards of Canada, or maybe even some Kid A-era Radiohead.

The other great part about our new and improved cold season is the all the uplifting films we can look forward to. A friend lovingly refers to the months of November and December as "Holocaust season" at the cinema. Terminal illness, cold-blooded killers, existential crises galore-it's a feast for the senses that only the well-medicated and lobotomized could ignore. I'm looking forward to the weekend that I'm so overwhelmed by entertainment choices that I just stay in bed with said chocolate and vicodin. My advice for the SAD and cinemaphobic-put a bunch of Jan Svankmeier, Wong Kar Wai, Nicholas Roeg, and Brothers Quay on your Netflix.
You'll thank me for your agoraphobia later.

Greatest Mix Ever

I discovered this playlist buried deep in the comments section of the AV Club. It's pretty amazing. What is it missing?

Alanis Morrissette, "Thank You" (bizarre, bizarre lyrics)
Live, "I Alone"
Temple Of The Dog, "I'm Going Hungry"
Third Eye Blind, "Semi Charmed Life"
The Verve Pipe, "The Freshman"
Don Henley, "Boys Of Summer"
John Parr, "St. Elmo's Fire"
Journey, "Separate Ways"
Any Pearl Jam song from Ten
Stan Bush (and Dirk Diggler), "The Touch"
Arrested Development, "Tennessee"
BoDeans, "Closer To Free"
Better Than Ezra, "Good"
4 Non Blondes, "What's Going On" (the worst one of the bunch)
Europe, "The Final Countdown"

My So-Called Mid-Twenties

I think the dye seeped into my brain while I was waiting for the color to set. Despite ten years, 2,000 miles, and plenty of current developments that all fall squarely into the "Life Doesn't Suck After All" column, I still feel an awful lot like I did when I was 15. A couple of days wouldn't be so bad, but my Angela Chase mood continues apace. What will it take to snap myself out of it? I can't go to college and lose 20 pounds again. That's really only a once in a lifetime thing.

I am angry with you, Target. The DVDs came out on Tuesday. Why are they not going to be in your store until Saturday? Why do you have to make me more prone to cry than I already am? Is it not enough of a clue for you that I walked in wearing a huge frown and an unfortunately pinkish/red dye job? I don't have enough Matthew Sweet on my iPod to sustain another day of this mood.

Do you even know what I listened to on my way to your store? Oasis. OASIS. Yeah, it was that bad. And you couldn't even meet me there. You couldn't even meet me in the late '90s. I'm so disappointed it you, Target.

Random thoughts

The movie that is called "Turkish Star Wars" in conversation happens to be the greatest movie never covered by MST3K. It wouldn't have been, since it is not dubbed, and is in fact subtitled, but the late-in-the-film description of the Koran's importance(and it's connection to "The Sword" and "The Brain") is the greatest visit from the exposition fairy EVER.

REDACTED: For further random thoughts, please contact the author directly.

If this were Livejournal

"Wonderful Life" by Nick Cave would be my song for the moment. Because it's that sort of day. Tomorrow might even descend to depths worthy of a female singer-songwriter.

Please, don't let that happen. If you see me, buy me a drink or a cookie. Only you can prevent pointless pseudo-feminist navel-gazing.

You Stay Classy, Philadelphia

As if it weren't enough to blow several mental circuits contemplating last week's tale of horrific sexual violence in Philly, I stumbled upon another reason why I think Pennsylvanian women must be the worst rape crisis counselors on Earth. If a men can gang rape a woman at gunpoint and walk away without being charged with any sort of sexual assault, it's hard to believe that anyone gets convicted of rape in that city.

Please excuse the terrible pun, but Philadelphia most certainly isn't in the running for "City of Sisterly Love." The primarily female jury that sat on the Marsalis case refused to believe that women might behave irrationally after being drugged and taken advantage of, and the judge in this more recent case clearly viewed the victim as nothing more than chattel and spoke derisively about her.

It's not exactly controversial to state that Americans collectively have a mangled sense of sexual morality. The appalling ruling made by Judge Deni reminds me of an episode of Oprah that infuriated me particularly. In one of her "hard-hitting" post-View reports, Lisa Ling went to hang out with a vice squad that worked an Oklahoma truck stop. Rather than picking up, arresting, and then exposing the drivers who waited for young, desperate women to knock on their cab doors, the prostitutes were arrested and subjected to Ling's "Why do you do it? Aren't you worried about your children while you're out here all night?" sympathetically-toned national shaming.

It never ceases to amaze me how vicious women are to one another. When female figures of authority dismiss women who work in the sex industry as unworthy of sympathy, as deserving of contempt and violent comeuppance, it makes it that much easier for men of all types to write all women off as sex objects. It's not a long road from "she deserved it because she was a hooker" to "she was dressed like a slut so I treated her like one."

This just makes me hate people, as well as to catapult Philadelphia to the top of my "Rapingest Cities in America" list.

The Prices that Fell to Earth

Is it wrong that I plan on attacking my local Target's menswear department this weekend in order to buy some of their new Bowie clothes? Don't fight me for the Man Who Fell to Earth trench coat. I will cut you.

Political Legacy via "Freaks and Geeks"

Yeah Al. Go Ozone Man.

I found out that Gore and the IPCC had been awarded the Nobel Peace Prize through a text message from my mom. That bit of intergenerational connection was cool; Al Gore winning a Nobel is less so.

It's not that I don't think that Al doesn't deserve recognition for his work; far from it. He's doing good work and he's a brilliant man. What worries me the most can be summed up by a scene from the last episode of Freaks and Geeks.

Geeks get cleaned out and arrive in the AV Room grumbling. AV Club Teacher runs the Geeks through the next several years, assuring them that the Jocks' lives will only deteriorate from high school and that the Geeks can look forward to lives of success and vindication.

This is how I feel about the Nobel Peace Prize and the Democrats at the moment. It's great that the world recognizes their ability to think and act on a global scale, but I can think of another arena in which I would like to recognize those abilities-the US Presidency. It sucks that the US voters would rather be led by men who treat international conflict like a football rivalry between neighboring towns. George W. Bush will never win the Nobel Peace Prize, but that doesn't mean that his actions won't be as memorable as Al Gore's.

This isn't an "Al Gore for President" post. It's not possible to apply "he who laughs last laughs best" to global politics. I would forgo any number of "I told you so's" to have a President who wasn't going to completely destroy the world, or maybe one that could manage to win the Nobel and be a political leader at the same time.

Freedom!

Well, sort of. If you're a sucker like me and you still pay for some of your music downloads, make the switch to Amazon's newly started mp3 store. It's cheaper than iTunes and all of their 2.3 million songs are DRM free. That means you can play them any time, anywhere, and copy them as much as you like, all for about $.89 a song.

Seriuosly, make the switch. If you're not cool enough to know where to get it all gratis, you're definitely cool enough to bust up a monopoly.

What am I supposed to do now?

Jezebel informed me that drinking three drinks a night will give you breast cancer.

Granted, pretty much everything gives you cancer these days, but if I can't hide from my body's inevitable collapse in the sweet, dark embrace of my favorite bar, where am I supposed to go? The gym? Hell no.

Off the top of my head, here are things that are going to give me cancer and/or kill me through other awful side effects:

Stress
Cell Phones
Alcohol
Hot Dogs
Diet Coke
French Press Coffee
Microwave Popcorn(!)

What's the point in living without these things?

Tension breakers

Sometimes, I have bad days for no real reason. Last night I was deep in the depths of despair(as Ann(e) Shirley would say) when my sister called. And it fixed everything.

S: I think that for my date tomorrow I'm going to wear my cute dress, tights, and these adorable ankle boots that I just got.

M: You have ankle boots?

S: Yeah, they're amazing. I might have to bring them with me to New York to visit you.

M: If you bring your ankle boots and wear them, I'm wearing my skinny jeans.

S: You have skinny jeans?

M: Yeah, I bought them for really cheap...shut up! YOU HAVE ANKLE BOOTS!

Commence insane laughter. End scene.

Betty Crocker meets Bettie Page

When Rachel Kramer Bussel is your go-to quote person, you know you're looking at a "hot" trend. Does this mean cupcakes are the new knitting?

My own Hot List

So I am starting my own list of things I think are "hot" as I go through and fact check this year's "hot issue." My first three entries:

Hot Rock & Roll Suicide: John Berryman. When you show up in songs by both the Hold Steady and Okkervil River, you're officially a muse.

Hot Tranny: Begum Nawazish Ali, Pakistani talk-show host(ess) and pro-democracy agitator.

Hot Job: Fact Checker. Because that's what I do.

What else belongs on the list?

(All credit for the tranny info goes to Coco. May you find a more receptive publisher for your political drag queen stories someday soon)

Good Content, but the execution...

Is it just me or is Barack Obama totally off his game in this speech? I know he must be tired, and he's staking what will be a lonely spot in the Democratic field, but he's not the Obama I remember.

I'm being too hard on the man, especially since he just called for an immediate end to the war. Nevermind his less than inspiring and somewhat stumbling delivery, he's got the right policy idea.

Drowning

Have you ever found yourself so totally overwhelmed by a seriously time-crunched project that you just want to throw it in the air and start sobbing? That's about how I feel right now. I'm about ready to curl up under my desk in the fetal position.

Banished from the Lexicon

Please, for my sake, do not ever use the word "mumblecore" in my presence. It is a word created to describe a genre that was created by and for pretentious emo jerks. Emo, incidentally, is the last adjective I hated with a burning passion. With any luck, these movies will not become popular enough to require me to add this particular "-core" to my vocabulary.

Teamwork is Important

I have nothing to add.

Drunk driving bust: 1 truck, 2 drivers

Gannett Wisconsin Newspapers

Two Dorchester men were arrested earlier this month for driving the same vehicle while intoxicated in the Colby-Abbotsford area.

Harvey J. Miller, 43, who has no legs, was steering the 1985 Chevrolet truck from the driver's seat while Edwin H. Marzinske, 55, operated the brake and gas pedals, according to the police report.

They were headed northbound on Hiline Avenue in Abbotsford when police pulled them over at 2:40 a.m. on Aug. 18.

Miller admitted he was too drunk to drive but argued he wasn't operating the vehicle because he couldn't push the pedals. He was issued a citation for a third drunk-driving offense, while Marzinske was cited for a second drunk-driving offense. Both men also were cited for driving after revocation.

A third drunk man in the vehicle walked himself home after the incident.

Nightmares

I keep having dreams about moving to L.A. I don't know why. I hate everything about the Los Angeles area with a bright and burning passion. There is nothing I can imagine enjoying about living there, not even the climate. Are L.A. dreams my new zombie nightmares? If so, I have clearly graduated to a new and far more frightening "most feared" scenario.

I want my "anywhere but here" dreams to be about places I might actually want to go, like Mongolia or Nepal or East Africa.

It's a little freaky that I'm dreaming of escape scenarios after only two months.

A Master at Work

Tonight I got to spend some time with a lovely young woman who has become a very good friend of mine since I moved back to New York. We sat and drank rose at a recently opened wine bar in our neighborhood and had a lovely time. The night would have been a perfect girl's night out if it hadn't been for the intrusion of a couple of obviously Jersey men who insisted upon chatting with us.

The whole night would have been ruined by their awkward attempts at conversation if it hadn't been for my friend's brilliant improvisation. In response to one of the trio's attempts at negging us for being from WI and IL, she asked, "What other stereotypes would you like to run by us?" To another's inquiry about whether or not we'd ever really behaved like psychos, she said, "I poured hot tea on someone after he made it for me." They tittered in an off kilter sort of way, and we left shortly after, confident we'd departed with the upper hand.

Blessed with context for her statements, I spent the intensely uncomfortable(for them) moments laughing heartily on the inside. After all, what's the point of having beautiful, intelligent, witty friends if they can't shut down chubby loser dudes and still be (classy and) hilarious while doing it?

I have a new heroine.

Do Unto Others...

I bet this little monster would shape up if someone walked up to him and told him "I really really don't like horrid little boys" and threatened to stomp on his head.

It's kids like these that make me believe occasional beatings for small children can't be all bad.

Bus Stop

For years I have thought that The Ice Storm featured the most horrible tragic electrocution scene I could ever imagine. I was so, so wrong.

After reading this story I might never take the bus again, even when it isn't raining. What is it with my Midwestern stomping grounds playing host to tragedies that mirror my worst nightmares?

Sick Sick Sick

You know things are bad for American health care when even the White House Press Secretary has to get a better job to pay his medical bills. Granted, "financial reasons" could mean any number of things, but the normal code words for "I want to make more money" are "I want to spend more time with my family." That Mr. Snow would come out and say that he is leaving because he needs to make some cash suggests that he may well be much sicker than he is letting on, and that even free government health insurance might suck just about as badly as that of most regular, paying citizens.

A family friend currently undergoing clinical trials to treat their cancer said that treatments would cost $17,500 dollars a month if they had not been admitted to the trial. At $210,000 a year, that would drain the bank account of even a well rewarded GOP hitman.

Normally I don't like to feel things for Republicans, but I almost feel bad for the guy. Almost. There's only so much sympathy I can have for a man who lies professionally for people who believe his life is worth more than that of poorer people.

Potato Sack

I feel awful for admitting this, but I've always despaired at the fact that I am not effortlessly, annoyingly pretty. As it is, I am lazy, so I'm not anything other than regular person thin, I need makeup to make my features look at all striking(and I never really learned how to put it on) and unless I'm going through a skim-lattes-and-despair-diet phase, I always have more than one chin in photographs. I think my self esteem is begging for one day of being the hot girl, but that's hardly realistic in New York City. Blurg. Perhaps I will work on being funny.

It'll all be Company Scrip someday, I tell you

This article on Salon reminded me how much I really loved the movie Matewan, and how awful it is to be stuck working in what remains of the American industrial complex. When I think about how wildly companies abuse their workers here on US soil, I shudder to think what it must be like to work in, say, a gold mine in Brazil or a diamond mine in Africa(check out Sebastio Salgado's book of photos Workers to get just a small glimpse of it). We many no longer live in a country filled with company towns, but we're no longer short on union busters. We're basically being ruled by a cabal of them.

I thought they loved unsexy things

With all the money the administration poured into its failed abstinence education crusade, it's no wonder everything is falling apart. Even our nation's physical structures are buckling under the weight of sexual repression.

“Governments do not want to pay for maintenance because it is not sexy,” said John Ochsendorf, a structural engineer and an associate professor at Massachusetts Institute of Technology.

This is not something to joke about, obviously. It's not funny that US roads, bridges, levees, tunnels, trains, etc. are in disrepair. It's not cheap, keeping a country running. There isn't enough tax money to go around as it is, and we're spending billions on contractors that don't build roads here or in Iraq. If the country's infrastructure is consistently considered to be at a "C" or "D" level of quality, we need some serious changes. There are talented people working for the government. When will the people footing the bill(we know who we are and who we should be) figure out it's actually worth spending money on these things? Maybe the fact that some of the victims in Minneapolis are bound to be white suburban soccer moms will convince Norm Coleman and his ilk to pay attention to the general state of disrepair so many people live in.

The Boys of Summer

So a battle is raging right now, and it is a heated one. In so many ways they are bitter opposites, and could be bitter enemies, but they share a common beginning. I'm speaking of course, of the battle between Shia LeBeouf and Zac Efron for the title of Dreamy Boy of the Summer Movies. Let's review their credentials:

Shia LeBouf:

Starred in the Disney Channel's Even Stevens
He was the original Norseman mascot in the Freaks and Geeks episode "We've Got Spirit"
Starred in totally awesome and genuinely creepy movie Disturbia
Stars in Transformers
Plays a greaser in the new Indiana Jones movie
Was on the cover of Vanity Fair wearing a stupid outfit
Currently sports unfortunate facial hair and slicked back 'do that may or may not camoflage a midstage jewfro
Is of legal drinking age

Zac Efron:

Starred in the Disney Channel original movie High School Musical but didn't sing
Stars in Hairspray as the chubby chasing dreamboat Elvis-like character
May soon sport a very unfortunate hat on the cover of a major magazine
His image adorns a wide variety of HSM merchandise, including magenta pillow cases.
Lost the role of Speed Racer to 2005's official Boy of Summer Emile Hirsch
Currently sports an unfortunately Clay Aiken-esque shag
Is a serious spray-tan/pancake makeup abuser
Is still a teenager

It's really a tough call.

UPDATE: I just saw Hairspray, and despite Travolta's close to ruinous performance, Efron wins in a landslide. EFRON EFRON EFRON!!!

PS: Michelle Pfeiffer looks SUPER OLD in this movie. Protect yourself. She is not a MILF. Not in the least.

PPS: He still looks 12. I'm not arguing. I just love him. There's nothing wrong with that. I just want him to wink at me. And swoon at my straight straight hair...

Shut up.

Memories

My mom called me yesterday just to thank me for bringing The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert home from the video store one day 13 years ago. She needed something to amuse her while she cleaned out boxes and put things away, and for some reason, drag queens in the Outback was just what the doctor ordered. We had a lovely conversation about exactly what sort of household leads to a 12 year old feeling comfortable enough to bring home a movie like that, and we decided that no matter the answer, it was a good thing. Who DOESN'T love a good drag queen movie?

When my best friend came out to me after we watched Priscilla, I remember how silly I felt about all the time I had spent worrying about whether he thought I was pretty, and I remember noticing just how much dark wood paneling there really was in his basement bedroom, and how inconvenient a waterbed would be for gay sex, or any sex, for that matter.

How did anyone every have sex on a waterbed? I really want to know. It seems like the worst idea ever.

Happy Birthday Harry Potter

The whole world has already seen the dirty dirty Details pictures and there really isn't any other photo that adequately objectifies him, so I will just say welcome to the world of the legal, Daniel, and thank you for finally reaching an age where I don't have to feel like a child molester.

Oh wait, I found one.

Quote of the Century

Morissey on Madonna(spoken at a PETA benefit in Norfolk, VA):

I wouldn’t be surprised if she made that African boy she adopted into and a coat and wore him for 15 minutes, then threw it away.

I may just take a vow of silence for the rest of my life.

[My artistic integrity] said, "I know what it's like to be dead," because someone just murdered me

Just when I was starting to think it might actually be uncool to love the Beatles with every fiber of my still 6-years-old-staring-at-the-illustrations-on-the-cover-of-Revolver-while-She-Said-She-Said-blew-my-mind being, Nate Rabin comes back and reminds me how awful it really is when people try and mess with the perfection that was Lennon and McCartney.

I love the "My Year of Flops" feature, but this is hands down the best pop culture writing I've read all week, which is saying something, considering what I've been up to.

For those keeping score, the Robert Fripp comparison I saw the other day makes for TWO King Crimson references in the last year; this may be more than I've seen since that time I analyzed the lyrics to "Cat Food" in one of my high school English classes.

Oh, and it's been 20 years since Appetite for Destruction came out. 20. Pretty soon we'll be seeing "20 years since Nirvana" stuff. At that point, I think it's safe to say, it will be Carousel for me.

Comparison Shopping

It's amazing that there could be such different environments mere feet from each other. It's great to get back to using the telephone to do my job instead of relying on the tubes. There's less gossip, but I won't have to stay at the office until 3 AM working on stories that make me want to commit suicide.

Fun with Message Boards

I'm learning a lot about what happens to women who work hard and have successful careers(yup, miserable and alone), and I just discovered that the average age for a woman's first marriage is 25.3. I'm practically 25.3. In lieu of feeling like a horrible failure and a an awful dragon lady, I read this fanfic post on IMDB. It's awesome. Clearly by "awesome" I mean, "High School Musical 2 themed." But it's "more mature" than the Disney Musical, so you can think dirty things about the stars.

Updates from the Harry Potter 5 message boards TK.

Things I Learned in East Harlem:

1. 81% of new HIV cases in NYC are Black and Latino.

2. People give away dogs at a rate of about an animal every two blocks(as determined by my experience being offered dogs between 3:55 and 4:10 PM EST 7/15)

3. If you are white and wearing a bikini in a pool at 114th St. and 1st Ave., someone will probably toss you into the pool. This should not be frightening. Accept the "This is the JEFFERSON POOL! DONT' JUST STAND THERE!" as a welcome. It's much friendlier than "Welcome to the O.C. BITCH!" and usually they people responsible try to talk to you afterwards.

4. 114th St. is actually a project-splitting sidewalk between 3rd and 1st, which is good to know when you have to walk between Lexington and 1st Ave.

Generally speaking, I like East Harlem. I really like the Thomas Jefferson Pool, white-girl tossing ruffians and all.

Dear iTunes

Whatever you did, you don't work any more. All of my music is just sitting, desperately wishing to be played, while you insist there is some sort of error. You worked fine this morning, and this new version tells me you can't find the file.

I hate you. I hope you die. I would smash my computer into a thousand pieces over your uselessness if I was not desperately poor.

I hate you.

And My Dignity Draws the Line at...

Bikini stories. Nothing kills self-esteem faster than reading all about how much starlets "totally love" veggies and lean protein.

This makes me so mad

I know I shouldn't be judgmental about this young woman's life choices, but I'm having a hard time not jumping up and down in a snotty, superior rage about how badly her whole existence reflects upon woman-kind. I read her epic length piece about dumping her quadriplegic boyfriend, and I thought she did the right thing in that situation. I also thought she came off as a pathetic, weak-willed, co-dependent moron. That she turned out to be all of those things and still managed to get a sweet job is sad, but hardly surprising. I don't know why this would be surprising either. As I learned from Knocked Up, women with good jobs get pregnant and decide not to abort all the time.

It's probably a good thing you had to stop buying your designer shoes, too. How sad it would have been if your clumsy, fat, pregnant feet slipped and you fell down some stairs, Crossroads style. If it worked for Taryn Manning it would have worked for you!

There is one thing I know from growing up in the Midwest, surrounded by young parents and relationships built on accidental pregnancies, and that is this: It almost never works out well. Maybe my old boss was right, maybe it is possible to be naive and provincial thanks to a priveleged East Coast upbringing. If you don't ever have to see just how trashy your life can be when you don't know how to support yourself before you poke holes in the condom, you might believe it won't be that bad. This young woman is clearly going to give her kid at least a decade's worth of therapy bills, maybe more. I'm not saying all single moms are stupid. Far from it, I've known plenty of them. I'm saying that this girl's breezy, "I'm still totally fun and materialistic even as I incubate my little parasite" tone suggests she's not ready for motherhood, probably not even for a serious relationship(who gets pregnant after 3 months and thinks it'll all work out?)

Maybe this will lead to a sea-change; maybe the dumb Coasties will ruin their lives and be single moms while all the smart Midwestern girls who actually remember to take their Ortho come to the Big City and take their jobs. I know I'm in position and ready to pounce.

Good luck in Omaha sweetie, because there's no way your pathetic blogging salary is going to pay for a down-payment on anything East of Cleveland. Then again, someone will probably give you a book deal to talk about the new "trend" of women under 30 having babies alone and still being totally fabulous! Just give some of your friends whatever it was you were using with your boyfriend and you can hit the "two means trend" mark in no time!

Get Your Head in the Game...

By resting it on this beautiful High School Musical Pillowcase! I'm so excited to rest my head next to dreamy Zac Efron every night! This is the best birthday present ever!

Kenneth?

We just talked about Anderson Cooper, mostly.

I'm just saying there's a resemblance...

SEIZED

The corner bodega is closed. The metal shutters are down, covered in orange stickers that say "SEIZED by the State of New York." Apparently they didn't pay their taxes. I bought coffee there this morning, and when I got home at 7:30, it was over. I don't know what I will do now. Where will I buy my tall boys? My coffee? My pasta? This is a tragedy. So long, my friends. So long.

Who Knew Oceanography Sucked so Much?

Popsci.com has a list of the Ten Worst Jobs in Science. And I thought it was rough cleaning hotel rooms. I didn't even realize people DID these things as careers. My favorite? Just the name alone wins: Garbologist.

What was THAT about?

I had a dream last night where I found a turtle and brought it back to the apartment I'm staying at, only to realize the turtle was obviously a bad idea but couldn't get it out of the apartment. I was stuck, fighting with this turtle, desperately trying to get it back to the outdoors before my friend returned. Then the turtle bit me. It hurt.

?

No Sleep 'til...?

I'm moving into my apartment on the 1st. I have my clothes, some pictures, some books I left in Fort Greene when I moved to Minneapolis, and my computer. I have to procure everything else I need for my bedroom. This presents a slight problem. There are countless ways to get a bed, a dresser, and a desk, but so far I can't think of any way I can transport these things without spending a small fortune that I don't have. What to do? I am at a loss. It is starting to feel like every time something good happens(I find an apartment, I get another job interview), something pops up that leaves me feeling desperate. Much as I would love to avail myself of the magic of Craigslist, I am still lacking a delivery method. Beds are expensive, and not that many people here drive trucks, or drive at all. This vexes me.

I think I'm going to have to buy blankets first and sleep on the floor until I have enough money to buy the bed to go with the blankets. It'll be pallet-tastic!

Feet

Another man complimented my toes this afternoon. Two equals trend! Is it because people walk so much here? Can toes be toned and fit? A friend tells me that Brooklyn is just Australia for foot fetishists. Or toe fetishists. Or whatever they are.

Some Things Never Change

In my experience, people tend to get less intolerable when they get sober. I shouldn't be surprised that I can count on Ryan Adams to be the exception to that. I know I'm probably late to the party on this one, but my God, this interview makes him seem even more annoying than when I saw him play in Chicago in 2002. That was a night he played his entire encore while hiding behind a Chewbacca cutout. I'm not saying I want him back on drugs, far from it. He simply epitomizes why some musicians are best enjoyed with a little mystique surrounding their painfully confessional songs. I should just be happy he hasn't had Jon Brion produce one of his albums. We all know what kind of musical abortions happen then.

So True

(Short conversation about men who cook)

Lauren: All girls really want is to be fucked and fed.

Word, my dear. Allowances should be made for those who sacrifice a little of the latter for skill at the former, however.

Stupid Weather

One major downside to outdoor concerts is their susceptibility to inclement weather. Take yesterday's Summerstage concert, for example. After changing trains three times and spending an hour and a half underground, my friends and I emerged near Central Park to see huge, threatening rainclouds and several lightning bolts. And then the deluge began. Needless to say, we did not see Television like we were supposed to. Maybe they'll play another concert in 25 years.

I did see a giant cardboard box of porn sitting inside the bodega where I bought a Red Bull. It was possibly the biggest box of porn I have ever seen.

Can Music be Ruined by a City?

If it can, then I think I am submitting an essay to Ruined Music about how Minneapolis, all several hundred thousand people and however many square miles of sprawl, rendered me unable to listen to more than five seconds of any Hold Steady song without wanting to burst into tears. When Craig Finn says "Lyndale South" in Hot Soft Light, I choke up, every single time. Isn't that stuff only supposed to happen to dudes?

The Interview Process

Looking for apartments is harder than finding a job. First, it seems that women don't live in two bedroom apartments; they only live in "cute" or "adorable" 3 and 4 bedrooms with other girls and want "fun," "neat," "quiet" roommates. I don't mind having a male roommate, I just wish there were more options, and that I could magically find a place that isn't super expensive and has more than two feet of space. I'll even take the two feet of space if it means I don't have to move to Bushwick. My friends have had great luck, and I worry I'll end up with something gross just because I don't have their magic touch.

Update: I hate this!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Too Cool For School

No, it's actually too cold. It's June. It's 60 degrees outside. I know I should be happy that the metal grates aren't melting the soles of my shoes, but this is ridiculous. Why does my time of underemployment have to be so chilly?

The Myth of Myth #3

While I was working at my crappy temp job, I grew quite fond of Yahoo! Jobs articles. Every time I saw a little headline that shouted "Best Careers for Your Personality" or "10 Ways You Fucked Yourself Over at Work Yesterday" I had to read it. Today I saw "The 5 Biggest Workplace Myths" and was intrigued. What could they be, I wondered. You really can take those Hot Pockets?

I should have known. The Biggest Workplace Myth is still that women are welcome in it. Myth #3 says it all:

News flash: If you report sexual harassment it'll probably hurt your career. The law protects companies from getting sued for sexual harassment, and human resources professionals are trained to circle the company and protect it as soon as someone reports a problem. This isn't to blame people in HR -- there's nothing else they can do because the law dictates this behavior.

When you do report harassment, the most likely thing to happen is that you'll lose your job because of retaliation. Yes, that's illegal, but it's pretty much impossible to prove in court. But let's say you can sue and win: You'll get a settlement that's too small to allow you to retire, you'll be virtually unemployable in your field and career, and your harasser will probably do the same thing to your replacement.

Before you accuse me of being indifferent to social justice, please know that I'm not saying this is OK. I'm saying that unless you're independently wealthy, you can't afford to single-handedly face down the injustice of sexual harassment laws. So unless you're in physical danger, figure out how to make the best of a bad situation and move away from the harasser if possible.

As ususal, shut up and take it is the way to go. What if the "best" way to deal with it is to have an affair with the harasser and blackmail him into a promtion to a different department? Of course I don't think this woman is saying she thinks that sexual harassment is okay. I think she is saying that it is not important for women to support each other and create an environment that is legitimately safe and positive for everyone. That attitude is the same one that is threatening women's rights across the board. As long as women accept that the rewards lie in compliance and not organized revolt, we will be on the defensive.

I was glad to hear that gaps in my resume aren't a big deal though. That eases my mind a whole lot.

Small World

After I finished work, I decided I wasn't ready to sit at home, so I went to the movies. As I walked home, I passed a laughing couple. The girl asked me for a cigarette, and as I handed one to her, her eyes grew huge and she shrieked, "Oh My God! I know you!" And she did. We sat next to each other in our literary theory class senior year and spent more than a few hours discussing how totally hot our professor was. And Lacan, of course.

It was a brief encounter, and I spent the rest of my walk home thinking about how terrible I had been in that class, but it was a great way to end my first real day back.

Delirious

It doesn't feel real, and I don't know when it's going to start feeling that way. I feel a little like a kid on their first night at summer camp, sustained more by someone's assurances that everything will be fun than by real faith. That might explain why I keep crying and wailing "I wanna go home!"

No more whirlwind departures. It's too painful, and I'm too old. Yes, too old.

Seasonal Dissonance

Everyone has different CDs for different times of year, CDs that can never be separated from the time they were first heard. My iPod is shuffling today, and it keeps landing on winter songs. Really cold winter songs. Walking to class along Lakeshore Path while fighting the December wind on the way to fall 2000 finals songs. Mostly this just means it's playing too much Kid A and Homogenic, with just enough of Leonard Cohen's first album to remember how much I felt like a character in McCabe and Mrs. Miller every time it snowed that winter.

There is a massive thunderstorm headed towards the city, one that should bring tornadoes and big hailstones. It's supposed to be 80 this weekend. It'll be hotter in New York. It may be summer outside my head, but I'm shivering in my cubicle as if it was 20 degrees outside.

The iPod just warmed up a bit-Summer 2002, Liz Phair, and Fuck and Run. Just as long as it stays away from January 2004. Good music, Bad Times.

The Eli Roth Conundrum

He's a total babe, but his idea of "rescuing the girl" is to get her out of the torture dungeon AFTER her eye is hanging out of its socket. And then to have her jump under a train when she realizes she's not pretty anymore. He made Hostel II, but he hired Heather Matarazzo to star in it. It's such a close call.

Actually, no it isn't. Cabin Fever. "Killing former Boy Meets World stars with nasty flesh eating bacteria" trumps "he might kill me during sex" every time.

No, A.V. Club, Fall Out Boy Does Indeed Suck

Did I miss something? Can someone more knowledgeable about things musical and Chicago-related please explain this article?

I have two questions and one statement for Kyle Ryan:

Q1. Are the "hooks" in the new album's "hook-laden songs" fishing hooks? Because I had to fight the urge to blind myself when I found out that the TITLE of the first single was "This Ain't a Scene, It's an Arms Race." Once I actually heard the song my car almost turned into a scene from Audition.

Q2. Are you married to the sister of one of these guys?

S. I admire your moxie, Sir, for trying to convince people who read your publication to reconsider their hatred of Fall Out Boy. I regret to inform you, however, that Patrick Stump is in the band responsible for bringing "guyliner" into regular conversation, and for the wicked bad haircut and dye job Blake Lewis got before Bon Jovi Week. You need a hell of a lot more than catchy pop songs to make up for that. Lest you accuse me of judging a book by its douchey, douchey cover, I have heard plenty of Fall Out Boy songs. They are not good.

Memo to Patrick Stump: Of course your work is going to be pared down to Wentzitals. Did you see them?

Return to Blogging: The Angry Woman Post

It wouldn't be a "blogging from work" day if I didn't link to at least one infuriating item. Thanks to Salon's Broadsheet for one of those stories that makes me want to take a bleach shower because I share some ancient common ancestor with the dozen or so scumbags who will suffer no consequences at all for what should be executable behavior.

And Just Because

Ren, I just want you to know that when I get back on Sunday, I'm BACK.

Imminent Departure

It's finally time. My last day as a professional highligher/typist is Friday, my flight leaves Sunday morning(7:00 AM?!?!? What was I thinking?!?!?!), and I report to work on Monday morning. What happens in the next week? A jam packed combination of social activity, packing, and panic(both the quiet and not so quiet kinds) awaits.

It has never been this hard to leave someplace before. I had less than a month to prepare the first time I moved to New York, and I moved to Minneapolis with close to the same amount of notice. I shudder to think that this might mean I'm more of a grown-up than I was when I arrived. Life in the Twin Cities has been quite a combination of highs and lows, but I will still miss everyone I know who hasn't started planning their East Coast move(there are a few foolish types who still think they're not included on my list of inevitable transplants).

Please, help me reverse this distressing maturation process. The going away party is Friday. Immature behavior should be rampant.

Loading and Unloading

Thank God none of the remaining furniture is worth all that much. Posting some of the remainders as free is going GREAT. The place should be empty by the end of tomorrow.

Hired!

I knew my tireless enthusiasm for popular culture would come in handy. It's time to pack my bags-I just found out I got the job I interviewed for yesterday.

Is Big Fun big in Korea right now?

This article reads like a summary of Suicide Club, except without the weird interlude with the Japanese David Cassidy lookalike stomping on puppies in a bowling alley.

Yes, that really happens in the movie.

Word on the Street

A few things I heard today while walking around Brooklyn:

1. No, YOU'RE the bitch I'm talking to right now(said into a cell phone).
2. How you doin', pretty toes(said to me)?
3. There are mushrooms growing in the bathroom.

Things I learned today:

1. A lot of work goes into showing people that stars are just like us.
2. You can tell the truth and still be sued for defamation.
3. If I don't pick an official "moving" date I'll probably never get a job.
4. I'm too old to function on two hours of sleep.

Too Much Sun

It is officially summer in my universe: after a lovely day spent with family and friends, parts of my arms and chest now match the dress I'm wearing. This would be less embarrassing if the dress were sleeveless and weren't a V-neck. As it is I have lobster colored decolletage.

Graduation Day

It's sunny, the temperature is in the mid-70s, the hammock is up in the shade, and my sister, the Greatest Classics Scholar on Earth(tm), is officially a college graduate. It seems like only yesterday you were crammed into University of Iowa "temporary housing" with eleven girls from West Des Moines, and today you're skipping your ceremony to drink champagne on the back porch with me. I don't think I've ever been so proud.

Congratuations, Dana. I love you. You're the best.

A Textbook Case

An article I wrote a few years ago has been published in a composition textbook. I get to call something I did a textbook example of good writing. I never thought that would happen.

The best part? The Nation paid me more for the permission than they did for publishing it the first time.

If only the piece could also clean up the atrocious mess I'm staring at in my soon to be ex-apartment.

Brooklyn Time Warp

I spent most of today drinking with an old friend from the long ago days of Nation interning(2005 seems so far away!), but it has been the time I've had to walk alone that have been my favorite. I got off the subway yesterday and found myself more than halfway to my old aparment(where I am staying) before I realized what I was doing. I don't think I've ever felt more at home anywhere, even at my parents' house. I have to remind myself continually that I haven't been living in New York for the past two years, I have been living in Minneapolis, because it just doesn't feel like any time has passed. I feel as happy and as right here as I did when I first moved, and it seems just as navigable as the town I grew up in.

Maybe that isn't such a good thing, what with growing up in a town of 5,000 people. Maybe Brooklyn is just an overgrown suburb now, filled with people too big for the Midwest but not big enough for Shanghai, or some such nonsense. I don't care. I still love the feeling of being one negligible part of one huge metropolitan unit.

And now I have to present my friend with her birthday present: a handbag sewed from vintage early 90s highlighter bright Beverly Hills 90210 fabric.

Goodbye Smut and Eggs

Things that have changed in Madison since I moved away:

1. "Smut and Eggs," your opportunity to watch hardcore pornography over breakfast and hair of the dog, is gone.

2. The State Street Arcade, well loved porn store, sex shop, and gay pickup joint, has been forced out thanks to higher rents. The Art Box strikes again! It has been replaced by a soon-to-open restaurant. The owner of that establishment has too much moxie and not enough bleach to make me eat there.

3. Duane, my coffee guy from college now owns his own cafe/art space/performance location/conference space/hippie/biker/furry hangout, the Escape Java Joint.

4. The Paradise(my most fondly remembered old haunt) now has Led Zeppelin on the jukebox. And not even decent Led Zeppelin; it was Houses of the Holy. Also, some of the female patrons wore tube tops. Thankfully, the beer was still cheap and the fried food is still the best in Madison.

The real motives for the abortion ban

My sister figured it out. Dick Cheney is basically the head of the skeksis, but rather than stealing the essence of podlings in order to maintain his shriveled, damned existence, he must drink the blood of unwanted babies. Soon he will have enough to return him to the power of his youth!

Morning

Nick Cave and I are spending some quality time together this morning. I wish he weren't twice my age; I think he's my soulmate.

Sleepovers

On Friday night I went to a sleepover. There were sweatpants, there was nail polish, and we drank wine with straws. It was the first time in 15 years I've been in a room with that many women my own age. It was pretty magical, or maybe I am just a spectactularly bitter human for not letting go of all that grade-skipping angst sooner. Either way, thank you ladies.

Out of Place

Despite my best efforts, I am not a very neat person. I don't put things away all the time, I am comfortable going to be without hanging up my coat, and a host's home would need a lot of disorder to attract my scorn. This is not Ethan's family philosophy.

Last night, I used one of the hand towels in one of the bathrooms, and when I was done, I placed it back on the towel rack folded neatly in half. When I used the same towel this morning, I found it refolded, in thirds, hanging next to its identical twin.

I do not fit in here.

Dispatch

All the action is finished, and now all that is left is to watch basketball, sleep, and head back tomorrow. The best quote of the day goes to my Great-Aunt Quava(that's pronounced Kee-way-vuh, but no one knows why). She stumbled on my great grandfather's headstone while walking to her seat, looked down at the ground, and exclaimed,"Oh my goodness! I just tripped over Daddy!"

Second place goes to my cousin Richard, age 45, of no specific occupation or location, when he said, "Journalism? Rock & Roll? That's cool. Yeah, I know Jon Bon Jovi from back in the day."

Third place does not belong to any statement, but I have to recognize the joy in my sister's eyes when she tasted KFC for the first time.

The little things my sister and I have learned since coming down are really striking. I always thought I got my stubbornness and rebellious streak from my mother, but it turns out my grandmother used to risk her Baptist father's patriarchal wrath in order to go dancing and to baseball games with my grandfather. They also eloped and only told their parents when his mother found the marriage license. We can't really ask my grandmother to elaborate; she keeps asking me how the trip from New York was even though I haven't lived there for over a year. It's not worth trying to correct her.

We've found some of the most amazing photographs(hidden in a closet, natch)-a picture from our great grandmother's river baptism sometime around 1910; one of two young men sitting on a car dressed in impeccable suits(no one knows who they are), and my personal favorite, the series of photos of what looked like a vaudeville show featuring 20 or 30 men dressed in blackface. I don't know who took the pictures, who it is that is in them, or what else might have been going on, and I guess we never will.

ETA: Three free round trip tickets and a night at the Marriott later, I'm home. Thank. God.

The Tragedy of Death and Boy Meets World

It's been a rough day. A death, general sadness, and several other less than desirable little frustrations and tragedies have befallen me and my loved ones today. In order to distract myself, I decided to find side by side pictures to prove that the square first victim in Zodiac was in fact the nerdy kid from Boy Meets World that later got cut from the cast to make room for Tobanga's enormous breasts. And then I couldn't find any. Minkus has been erased from history, and I cannot get a break.

I will post a picture of Springer Spaniel puppies instead. The one on the left looks just like my puppy who got cancer last year about this time...oh forget it. Puppies are cute. I'm going to take a nap.

Breaking: College Sex Mags not good for Girls

The author of this article can't manage to write it without describing the attractiveness of the women involved or including quotes that reinforce the "girls in college are still totally stupid about sex and should just be good because when they do stuff that ends up in smut they totally feel bad about it and that just isn't cool" stance on female sexuality. It you write an article about sex magazines on college campuses, why spend so much time woman bashing(especially when it is women who are starting the things) when you have tons of material for Harvard bashing?

Why I hated Babel

Everyone expects PL to win Best Foreign Film on Sunday, and it may actually deserve it. Setting aside all the mass culture American reasons(highest grossing Spanish film ever, most well known nominee), it is an amazing film and a beautiful achievement. As the Oscars approached I've seen a lot of second guesses about the "future" quality of Pan's Labyrinth. There seems to be a lot of speculation about whether the blend of fantasy and political horror story will stand the test of time. Guillermo del Toro clearly doesn't want to be Hayao Miyazaki or Isao Takahata, so that criticism doesn't necessarily hold any water.

The more important thing to look at is that del Toro was the far superior Mexican director of the praised films this year. Babel, to put it succinctly, SUCKED. The 2.5 hours you might spend in the theater could be summed up by the following: "life sucks and it hurts, but if you have to choose a color to suck in, don't choose brown. White and yellow are way better. Hell, in the 21st century, red is probably better, but no one really knows because no one tells those stories except David Treuer." Seriously, don't waste your time with that convoluted shit. When it takes the gold on Sunday, it'll be another blow for real cinema fans.

Babel displayed none of the maturity that Pan's Labyrinth showed at every turn. There were no surprises, no moments where people behaved in anything other than the most mechanistic, deterministic way. A truly affecting movie about "fate" or "god" or "connection" involves surprises, moments where, beyond all reason and cynicism, goodness is actually rewarded, evil actually punished. It doesn't hurt when the good are uniformly punished on film; it only feels manipulative and schematic.

The reason the Japanese story resonates is because it is so tangential; the young girl hurts even without her father's complicity in minor international incidents. She would act out and self-destruct even if her father were an arms dealer who shot Cate Blanchett himself. Her hatred, anger, and despair was the only part of the film that made sense. When you compare this to Naomi Watts in 21 Grams and the "model and the dog" segment of Amorres Perros, it telescopes what Gonzales Inarritu does well and magnifies what he does very very poorly.

Stay Tuned for More...

A celebration

Happy Birthday David Bowie! I can't believe you're 60. You're really far too cool to be that old. I mean, of course Mick Jagger and Macca and Johnny Rotten are old farts, and even Iggy Pop and David Byrne and the Roxy Music Brians are starting to seem up there(Eno less than Ferry though, probably because of the fashion baldness), but you? I never dreamt it would come. Are you going to release a children's album of epic terribleness? Or will you merely continue to bless us with inspired cameos like your Nikola Tesla in The Prestige?

Actually, if you recorded an album of children's stories in character as Nikola Tesla I'd be okay with it. Please just keep being weird, that's all I ask.

Sincerely,
M