Watching this minute-and-a-half long clip may be the best thing you do for your Monday. Or any day.
Tom made me a manga avatar. Of me. This is her:
You can get one too. (Don’t ask about the F on the scarf; I don’t know.)
Have a great weekend!
Thanks to SuperFastReader, I’ve been stifling giggles for the last ten minutes. Why?
I give you Cake Wrecks.
Please enjoy.
I post to you from my iPhone and its nifty Wordpress app!
I do have to say that I am looking forward to iPhone updating its own podcasts automatically. I just can’t keep up with daily podcasts (read: The “Writers’ Almanac”) otherwise. Because when am I ever really thinking far enough ahead to plug my iPod into my laptop every day?
That is all.
I have to admit, this perplexes me a bit:
Available on Amazon?!
(That was my maiden name. Not that it’s me, but it’s so . . . specific.)
I’m not in a bloggy mood lately, but I give you Battlestar Galactisimpsons.
From McSweeney’s: First drafts of the parables of Jesus.
Jesus said, “Therefore everyone who hears these words of mine and puts them into practice is like a wise man who built his house on the rock. The rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds blew and beat against that house; yet it did not fall, because it had its foundation on the rock. But everyone who hears these words of mine and does not put them into practice is like a foolish man who built his house on sand. The rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds blew and beat against that house, and it fell with a great crash.”
One of the disciples asked, “What of the man who builds his house inside the house built on the rock? Surely his house will be even less damaged by water and wind. Is this what we should do?”
And Jesus said, “No, don’t do that.”
On a editorially related note, there’s been a Hallmark e-card phishing scam going around, which I put up on the website at work. This was the most clever scam email I’ve seen in a long time, in that all the links do actually go to the Hallmark website (for information about the company, shopping links, etc.) except the one that’s supposed to be going to the e-card. Tricksy tricksy.
But the dead give-away? They spelled receive as “recieve”. Why is it that spammers inevitably give themselves away with bad spelling? Wait, don’t answer that, I suppose I know.
Happy Easter.
I AM IN SHAPE
round is a shape
Via Jeffrey Overstreet -
This is the funniest thing I’ve seen in a while.
Now that Tom’s between projects, I’m usually up before him. That’s ok. Early morning is the only time during the day when I’m by myself, so I like to get up a little early and read and do things to start my day. Because we live in a studio, it’s inevitable that I wake him up eventually with some floorboard creak or a dropped spoon or just the noise of movement. When that happens, we usually have a conversation of some kind before we go about our separate ways for the day.
When he woke this morning, he said, “My dream last night had deleted scenes that played after the dream. Good ones, too.” (Also, he and Philip Seymour Hoffman were trying to stop a train that was going to Harvard, and were dressed in superhero costumes.)
Oh, look. The Sundance lineup is out. Neither of the films Tom worked on last year made it (we all knew it was a very long shot - they got a ton of submissions this year), but The Mysteries of Pittsburgh is, based on Michael Chabon’s novel. Cool. Wish I could be there. Anyone need someone to cover the festival? ::doe eyes::
It’s very cold out today. Or it feels cold. I think it is actually just damp.
We saw Paranoid Park last night. Better than I expected. I kept thinking of my brother, because it was all about a kid who skateboards and has floppy hair like my brother. But that’s pretty much where the resemblances ended. And that’s where my comments end, because I have to write a review of the film.
Which brings me to another point. I have come at this film critic thing (which, after two years at this, I still feel odd calling myself because, really, I’ve only written a handful of reviews that are more than 300 words in length, but whatever) so sideways that I am not sure of all the protocol. Can I blog about a movie I’ve seen in press screenings? Can I blog about it only if I am not reviewing it? Can I only blog about it after my review comes out? After the movie comes out? Can I quote my own reviews on my blog? And if we go to cast & crew screenings of big important studio movies (as we shall be, soon), can I write reviews based on those screenings? Does anyone even care? Help.
I am really exhausted today, and not sure why. Went to bed reasonably last night and slept close to seven hours, which is quite a bit. I did have a dream that frightened me a lot. I dreamt that because of the WGA strike (to which, for the record, I’m rather sympathetic, after spending some time watching Tom in the entertainment industry), they had to end The Office altogether, and in the series finale, they broke Jim and Pam up; Pam moved to someplace in the Third World to do charitable work, and Jim was completely heartbroken and may have possibly left town without telling anyone. I was ridiculously relieved to wake up and realize it was a dream. This bothers me. I am clearly far too invested in these figments of a writer’s room. This is why I do not watch television. Bad! Bad!
My boss calls people in offices down the hall on speakerphone sometimes, and I think whoever she is calling answers on speakerphone, and because our office is next to hers and we leave our doors open, it sounds like she’s in surround sound. It makes us laugh.
Tonight, at class, we are having pizza. I probably should not be as happy about this as I am. I am a huge fan of free pizza, especially when it comes at times when I’d usually be having to skip dinner.
Also, afterwards, I am heading to the Bitter End for a concert, which I shall blog about tomorrow, probably. I have lived in New York for two and a half years and not been to the Bitter End, so tonight! Is the night!
Also, it’s a good day when a check comes from a publisher and you stare at it for a while, trying to remember what it’s for.
I eschewed personality type tests for years because, frankly, I found them boring. But I took one (out of boredom!) a couple weeks ago and it pegged me as an ENFP (the Visionary), which, as it turned out, is exactly right. Not only does it describe me to a T - I am very clearly 100% this type - but it makes me feel better about my discipline-hopping (as apparently this is pretty normal for ENFPs). Is it any wonder I’ve only applied to interdisciplinary Master’s programs?
But these bits surprised me and made me laugh:
• This type is found in only about 5 percent of the general population, but they have great influence because of their extraordinary impact on others. (Is this good, or does it mean I’m a freak?)
• Because they tend to be hypersensitive and hyper-alert, they may suffer from muscle tension. (NO JOKE. I’m wound tighter than a top most of the time.)
• People to people work is essential for ENFPs, who need the feedback of interaction with others. (Chuckling - I was telling Tom yesterday that my greatest struggle in writing is that I don’t get a grade for my work, so I don’t know if the editor liked it or not.)
• Common occupations picked by ENFPs include artist, clergy, consultant, counselor, entertainer, journalist, public relations worker, social scientist, social worker, teacher, and other occupations that allow ENFPs to use their creativity and insight.
And this was the real kicker . . .
• Flexibility and autonomy are important to ENFPs, who may bolt from organizations in which this is not attainable.
Any other ENFPs out there?
People, I was going through blog archives recently and reading old entries. I used to be much funnier. Why are you still reading?
In that spirit (and I have permission for this) -
We often lounge around at night telling stories about our day, sometimes eating. A couple nights ago I was finishing up what I’m sure was a very riveting story about something involving choking, or perhaps I was choking. The important point here is that something triggered that very interesting non sequitur switch in Tom’s brain.
“Oh,” he said. “That reminds me. I was eating cucumbers in the shower yesterday . . . ”
I think he suddenly heard himself talking. I have rarely seen him laugh so hard; thought he’d turn blue and pass out, and I wasn’t much better.
Of course, that was a little better than Tuesday night. We go to the Village Church small group in Jersey City on Tuesdays, and since I’m coming from Manhattan and he’s coming from Brooklyn, we don’t arrive together. This week, he made it there before I did, and apparently walked in the door and announced, “I beat my wife!”
Jerry Seinfeld’s thank you speech is hysterical, skewering awards shows for what they are, and I think it’s among the best ever given.
A chuckle. Check out this user review on Amazon of Pride and Prejudice.
(Actually, more like a sob.) (via Kari)
tominthebox usually cracks me up (think The Onion for the theological set), but today’s is not theological and will definitely crack you up.
I have little to say today; we were out very late in Brooklyn celebrating a friend’s birthday last night and I didn’t get more than five hours of sleep. Which isn’t bad when you don’t have to go anywhere or do anything significant, but royally awful when you’re in the midst of a very busy day at work. My triple macchiatos are well earned.
We have a shockingly quiet weekend coming up, owing to the holiday and people’s travels. We’re not traveling, actually; spending this one holiday in the city and going to the potluck at our pastor’s house after church. Holidays are rarely relaxing so this will be nice.
My mom completely made my week by sending Tom and I chocolate Easter bunnies from Lindt. I already ate mine, but Tom’s was in the fridge this morning. We also ate some gummy bears recently, and I was appalled by the joy I gain from noshing on edible yet non-meat animals. Nothing more fun than pretending you’re wreaking havoc on Gummybearopolis and biting the heads off the residents.
Sometimes, I scare me.
Although, the idea of Jude Law acting in Cantonese does fill my heart with a lot of glee.
I stumbled on this, and it made me laugh. :)
Tara Leigh tagged me for the “Six Weird Things” meme that’s been going around cyberspace. I don’t know if there’s six weird things about me, but I’ll try.
1. I strongly dislike most cheeses, unless they’re melted and on things like pizza and grilled cheese sandwiches. This puts me in a weird place with all my cultured friends (cheese, bread, and wine, right?), but the stuff makes me gag.
2. Similar situation with milk. I positively cannot drink milk from a glass. Disgusting.
3. I unreasonably hate couch cushions that aren’t straight. I’m always straightening them.
4. When I was a kid, I used to dip my hands in those little plates of Elmer’s glue they’d have at art class and let it dry so I could peel it off. I still have to keep myself from peeling off scabs.
5. I have never seen Titanic.
6. I carry about six types of lip gloss/lipstick/lip balm in my bag at all times, and I feel 100% naked without it.
Someone found our blog today by Googling for “Tom pot pie.” Sounds like Mrs. Lovett’s back at work.
Living in a city full of Jews and people of other faiths, I understand and am not offended by some people’s reticence to emphasize Christmas over other end-of-the-year holidays. It’s America, after all, and it’s not bright to alienate large numbers of potential customers. (Starbucks, in a stroke of marketing brilliance, sells both a “Christmas Blend” and a “Holiday Blend”. Genius!)
Yesterday, on the 1 train in the Houston Street stop. I’m riding to work after IAM.
Train conductor: Blah blah, please stand clear of the closing doors.
Doors in our car close. Train just sits there.
Train conductor: Please stand clear of the closing doors.
Nothing happens.
Train conductor: Please stop holding the doors and allow the train to continue.
Nada.
Train conductor: Any MTA police on the train, please make your way to the second car.
Instantly, train starts moving. I exchange surreptitious smirks with several occupants.
Moral of the story: threats, even if they’re empty, work.
If you didn’t hear, Alissa and I are now starring in our own movie. Kudos to Cori Poley who did up the poster for us. I’m upset about the PG-13 rating though. I don’t understand why it would say, “some material may not be suitable for children.” The movie only covers the wedding, you know? So what’s that all about?
Because Tom is a freewheeling artist with a variety of freelance pursuits, whereas I am more or less a corporate grunt, I generally am up and at ‘em a while before he is to accomodate that Commute To Midtown we all adore.
So this morning, as is my wont, I woke him up to say Good Morning and Goodbye and Have a Great Day. He grinned sleepily and mumbled, “Enjoy the scone.”
I just kind of stared at him until his eyes opened in realization and he started laughing. His fortune cookie message of the day. “Confucius say, ‘Enjoy scone!’”
(Scone materialized, in ziploc bag on desk, with a small yellow post-it reading “Eat me!”. Yay, breakfast!)
I think I’ve broken the habit.
See, I get hungry at work. It’s chilly here, and everything is various shades of white and red and a weird greenish-brown shade, and there’s fluorescent lights, and they make me sleepy. And I can only drink so many cups of coffee before I am about to explode (not from jitteriness - oh no, I graduated to coffeesnobbery in the big-time during college - but from the sheer amount of liquid). Plus, there’s the fact that I rarely eat breakfast before I get here - that would mean getting up earlier, and sleep is very precious.
So I end up eating, and usually, a salad or a soup or something similar is sufficient (how’s that for alliteration?). But lately, I have been ravenous - like, so hungry that it’s all I can think about. And I did the unthinkable.
I formed a Snickers habit.
Snickers - the perfect candy bar, containing all the yum (peanuts, caramel, nougat, and chocolate) and none of the yuck (spinach, beet greens, etc). Snickers, that fills my tummy and makes me smile and likely is rotting my teeth but ohhh, so good. Snickers, the candy bar I recently recalled (with a start) giving to my Dad for his birthday when I was about five, because Dad loved Snickers bars. I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a thousand times - I am my father’s child.
But anyhow, I started sneaking off to the vending machine and spending $1 on a Snickers and inhaling it each afternoon. I thought, “Aw, how bad could it be for me, really? 250 calories, or so?”
The flaw, my friends, is that this was no ordinary Snickers bar. This is a KING-SIZED Snickers bar, the SNICKERS BAR OF CHAMPIONS. The SNICKERS BAR OF EARLY DEATH DUE TO OBESITY, as I realized when I saw there’s a whopping 541 calories in every delectable bar.
Um, wow. I’ve always been reasonably thin, but lately I noticed that some of my clothes were fitting tighter in the leg/tummy area (and no, because someone will mention it, I’m emphatically not pregnant). Not cool, not cool at all.
Time to kick the Snickers habit. First, as all good addicts should do, I admitted that I had a problem to Tom. I did sneak off and eat a Snickers bar directly after that - but that was my last one. The next day, when I got hungry, I went downstairs and bought green beans. And ate them. That helped.
But the stroke of genius was buying a case of Crunchy Peanut Butter Clif Bars from drugstore.com (which I love to pieces - best e-commerce site EVER) and having them shipped to my office. These babies are fantastic, and fantastically good for you, loaded with protein, fiber, a bunch of vitamins - great stuff, and a great taste, and 250 calories a pop.
So, thank you, Clif Bars. You have saved me from the Dastardly Snickers Habit.