ENGLAND DIARY, Part I

2-22-08
2:25pm
Detroit airport
Slept about 4 hours last night. Up by 5am, finished packing for trip. Showered, ready to go by 7:15, when Shane picked me up. Stopped at pharmacy to get happy pills then got to the airport in time to catch my flight to Detroit, the first leg of my international trip! Sat by friendly middle-aged couple on their way to Syracuse. I read the new Mortified book and dozed off. Now in Chili's at the Detroit airport waiting for my beer and spinach/artichoke dip. Chatty college girl sitting in next booth gabbing into her cell phone. Detroit is a cool airport - an overhead tram takes you up over the shops and deposits you at your gate. Seeing a lot of eighties hair in the airports today, sported by people way too young to be wearing them. Eerie. Beer is good--Chili's sucks. Not much in the way of vegetarian friendly food. The music in Chili's is like the best (worst) of my high school jukebox. They just played C&C Music Factory and before that Good Vibrations by Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch. Now it's something (I think?) by Expose, and I also heard Creep by TLC. That pretty much sums up Chili's--a restaurant forever trapped in early-90's hell. Oh, just heard Janet Jackson Love Will Never Do Without You and Whitney Houston - All the Man That I Need. God, I forgot songs like this even existed! (Probably a good thing). I'm almost tempted to stick around to see what they play next. Oh finally--something good: U2 Even Better Than the Real Thing.

Almost to Amsterdam
time in US - 10:30pm
time where I'm going: 4:30am
Good flight, couldn't see much out the window because of clouds, then darkness. It's weird to travel into such a radically different time zone. Almost like time travel. I went to the loo before the plane took off and haven't been back since; amazing considering I've had two sizable meals, three glasses of water and a cup of coffee. Prehaps (sic) the air pressure does weird things to my bladder? International flights are cool, with the huge planes and three rows of seats and movies. I watched Dan In Real Life (not that funny, contrived, heavily cliched) then Things We Lost in the Fire (uneven and overlong, but interesting, with strong performances). I dozed a bit in between movies, not very much though. My drowsiness was drug-induced. I just finished Mortified. My ears are exploding. I am ready to land!

Time in US- 1:32am
Time in Amsterdam 7:32am
I've been waiting FOREVER and I can't even get into the fucking gate area where there are real seats. The Amsterdam airport is cool looking but it was completely desolate when I arrived, which sucked. I was hoping to see some action. Finally, they're letting us in the gate area. How nice of them.

USA time 3:56pm
England 9:56 pm
I was searched at airport customs by very polite Muslim British woman. Willing to bet American customs are not so polite and apologetic. Ian picked me up at London City airport and we ate beans and toast at ASDA, shopped for food and came back to Cambridge, Ian's place. Slept for 8 hours, now drinking wine and watching Top Gear and Alan Partridge. So nice to snuggle with Ian. :-)

2-24-08
On our way to London and the Tate Modern. We've taken protein bars, cous cous and pasta to eat on the way. The roads are very twisty in Cambridge and (all) the stripes on the streets are white, so that it looks like we are always going the wrong way on the roads! No way to tell if they are one way or two way, you just have to guess I suppose.

2-25-08
Saw Tate Modern, then across the street to St. Paul's Cathedral. Couldn't stay long, as a service was starting. The mosaics inside were gorgeous! Hiked from the East End to the West End (stopped at an Irish pub on the way), then passed Parliament House, Westminster Abbey and the London Eye.







Ate at a dodgy (but nice on the inside) Korean restaurant. Then took a cab back to the car and hung out with Ian's friend Mariella and some of her mates. Spent today watching Alan Partridge and Some Mothers Do Have 'Em with Michael Crawford while Ian did his taxes.

2-26-08Made a stop by Ian's office to pick up 27 computers. Saw a bit of what their casino monitoring software does, and learned about a card casino game called Punto Banco (apparently popular in American casinos?) Now we're driving down to Canterbury to deliver the computers and do some sightseeing. After that we're off to Dover to see the white cliffs.

(Later)
Walked around Canterbury today--it's a great town! Very posh, lots of cool shops and trendy people.

Did some window shopping, then had a pickled egg over chips at a fish and chips place. Ian had fried mushrooms and a fried Mars bar. He also finished my chips for me. I had so much grease in my system (it was a massive portion of chips) that I was afraid I would explode. I don't know how Ian stays so skinny.



We walked around Canterbury and walked for a bit along the wall. Saw two rats on the sidewalk and nearly peed myself in terror. Walked up a big steep hill with a monument at the top built in memory of some famous dead Canterburian. It was an amazing view at the top--you could see the whole city from there! My feet were freezing by this point, so I had to stop and buy some cheap boots on our way back to the car. We also tried to go in the church (where the Archbishop of Canterbury is), but it was too expensive and we decided to save our money for the hotel tonight. We're in Dover now, it's nighttime but I did catch a glimpse of the white cliffs and Dover Castle (breathtaking!) Looking forward to seeing them in the daylight tomorrow.

2-27-08
Stayed at Castle House B&B in Dover last night, had a beer at Ellie's (Ella's?) pub, then Italian food at a quiet, friendly little restaurant. Woke up early this morn and had breakfast (eggs, baked beans, hash browns and toast), then went back to the room. Two pissed-off cleaning people chased us out of the room--came by once and groused "It's half ten!" but Ian was responding to some work emails and wasn't ready to go. He said "They're just trying it on, I'm sure they've got other rooms to clean." I said, "Okay, next time they knock, YOU answer." They came by again as we were getting our stuff together, and this time Ian was all apologetic to them and said to me, "I think we were the only guests, that's why they were keen to get us out." When I was leaving the room I was all smiles and apologized, but they just glared at me and the woman said (again!) "It was half ten!" I would have told them to kiss my fat American butt, although I'm sure that wouldn't have gone over too well.

Visited Dover Castle after that, which was awesome. I especially liked being up high and seeing the views of the English Channel (you could barely see France for the fog) and of course the white cliffs. Toured the entire castle, learned what a pain in the ass Henry the VIII was (as well as how he selected some of his brides), saw his "throne," saw how he took a crap--all very interesting, but my favorite part was climbing to various points outside the castle and looking out onto the town and the English Channel. The views were absolutely amazing. I got some good photos (despite my digital camera repeatedly assing out on me). We also toured a WWII command center built inside one of the white cliffs (this was on the castle grounds) and saw the inside of the church, as well as the remains of a Roman lighthouse built in the 1st century A.D.








We drove along the south coast, through some cute fishing villages, saw lots of sheep, stopped in Eastbourne ("a seaside resort for old people," according to Ian), walked along the pier and the gravel beach, then stopped for Indian food at a tiny place in Eastbourne that took us forever to get to ("all the good restaurants are in dodgy parts of town"--Ian) Great food, but I think I left my favorite scarf there.

We then drove up to the very top of a lookout cliff called Beachy Head (Alan Partridge made two Beachy Head jokes in series 2)...it's supposed to be a suicide hot spot. The morbid (and hilarious) thing was that there was a little red emergency car that said "Chaplain" prowling the roads at the top of the cliff, shining a flashlight and presumably looking for potential suicides. He seemed awfully interested in us, but must have decided that we looked too happy, so he moved on. We wandered around in the dark on Beachy Head and saw more stars than I've ever seen before. It was one of my favorite moments here so far. We then drove down to Brighton and looked for a B&B (I wanted to stay at one by the seaside that had a cat in the lobby named Mr. Watts, but Ian deemed it too expensive), we settled on a place called Valentine House run by a girl with bright red hair that looks about 25.


We spent about an hour driving around looking for a pharmacy that was open late so I could buy contact lens solution, but no dice. We went to bed about midnight and woke up at 8:30 for a full English breakfast (with vegetarian sausage for me) cooked by the friendly red haired girl. It was much better food than the B&B in Dover.

2-29-08

Yesterday we explored Brighton. The first thing I had to do was buy a new top because I'm sick of wearing the same two tops (the rest of my clothes are back in Cambridge at Ian's). We stopped at a mall (Churchill Square?) where I bought a top, then we went back to the van so I could ditch my old shirt and change into the new one. Then we walked along the beach and collected shells that Ian called scollocks (sp?) very smooth, white shells edged with soft brown flecks. I got enough to make some cool jewelry for myself when I get back home. Saw the crumbling Victorian pier, took photos of the ocean, and then went to the pier that's actually operational. Had some fried donuts and went to an arcade. Ian played a flight simulator game that he scored high on, then we played air hockey (he beat me by one point).




We went back to the town and looked at some more shops. I dragged Ian into a hippie tarot card faerie emporium. He said "we'll get posessed by the devil." After that I bought a scarf at an Indian Hindu hippie place, as I had misplaced my scarf the night before. I got a giant purple chiffon one so I can blend in with the locals (all the woman in England are wearing giant silk or chiffon scarves around their necks). We stopped at a pub and had a beer (an old weird drunk Englsihman was wandering around the bar and laughing weirdly). Then on the way back to the car Ian spotted my scarf that I thought I'd lost the night before--someone had found it and hung it up on a little wrought iron fence! It's amazing that I even got it back. Ian said I'd better wash it before I wore it again as some bloke could have used it to wipe himself after shagging a crackwhore. ("You're such an optimist," I told him). At any rate, I haven't worn it since I got it back.

We set out for Weymouth (about a 2 hour drive from Brighton), and I fell asleep in the car. Had a minor hissy fit when I woke up because we were deep in the small fishing villages along the coast and there was nothing bigger than a convenience stor anywhere (I still needed contact lens solution and was getting desperate!) Since the pharmacies here close at like 4pm and it was about 6:30, I started to think I was S.O.L. We managed to find a big grocery store that had one, tiny bottle of solution on the last shelf that we looked on. Breathed a sigh of relief and promised Ian "no more hissy fits." We drove around Weymouth and then found the little village where Ian grew up (Preston?), including the houses he lived in as a wee one. So cute!

TO BE CONTINUED NEXT POST...

LONDON CALLING
Ya, I was there too!



Actually, the above photo was taken in Canterbury, although London was one of the many places I hit on my first ever tour of England! I've been back for two weeks, but have just got round to posting (jet lag, post-holiday depression, work, etc. got in the way). There are many more photos to post from my fabulous UK vacation with my Ian...til then, you'll have to make do with this one.

I believe at one point I said that I was reluctant to post any political content on this blog, but now I think, fuck it. I'm a tree-hugging pro-choice hippie who fully supports gay marriage and health care reform and any and every issue that makes a Republican pro-life turbo-Christian crawl into a corner, curl up in a ball and tremble with fear. Furthermore, it's MY blog and I can spew each and every one of my liberal opinions whenever I goddamn feel like it.

So here I go...

I don't trust McCain (or any Republican candidate, for that matter). Despite McCain painting himself as a compassionate conservative (an oxymoron, BTW), and attempting to distance himself from Bush, the memo from VoteVets.org (below) tells an entirely different story. Apparently McCain is perfectly willing to get down on all fours with the rest of his brethren and give Bush a good old fashioned ass-licking when no one is paying attention. And, given that Americans are famous for not paying attention, that is just what he's been doing.

Read on.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
TO: Interested Parties
FROM: VoteVets.org
RE: Senator McCain's Real Record on the War in Iraq
DATE: February 8, 2008

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Senator John McCain presents himself as a maverick and a critic of the Iraq war. But a close read of his record indicates that his position on the Iraq war has consistently matched President George W. Bush's.

Before The War:

McCain used many of the same arguments as Donald Rumsfeld, Vice President Cheney and President Bush when advocating going to war with Iraq.

McCain co-sponsored the Use of Force Authorization that gave President George W. Bush the green light—and a blank check—for going to war with Iraq. [SJ Res 46, 10/3/02]

McCain argued Saddam was "a threat of the first order." Senator McCain said that a policy of containing Iraq to blunt its weapons of mass destruction program is "unsustainable, ineffective, unworkable and dangerous." McCain: "I believe Iraq is a threat of the first order, and only a change of regime will make Iraq a state that does not threaten us and others, and where liberated people assume the rights and responsibilities of freedom." [Speech to the Center for Strategic & International Studies, 2/13/03]

McCain echoed Bush and Cheney's rationale for going to war. McCain: "It's going to send the message throughout the Middle East that democracy can take hold in the Middle East." [Fox, Hannity & Colmes, 2/21/03]

McCain echoed Bush and Cheney's talking points that the U.S. would only be in Iraq for a short time. McCain: "It's clear that the end is very much in sight. ... It won't be long...it'll be a fairly short period of time." [ABC, 4/9/03]

McCain said winning the war would be "easy." "I know that as successful as I believe we will be, and I believe that the success will be fairly easy, we will still lose some American young men or women." [CNN, 9/24/02]

During The War:

Senator McCain praised Donald Rumsfeld as late as May 12, 2004, after the Abu Ghraib scandal.

Asked if Donald Rumsfeld can continue to be an effective secretary of defense, McCain: "Yes, today I do and I believe he's done a fine job. He's an honorable man." [Hannity and Colmes, 5/12/04]

Senator McCain repeatedly supported President Bush on the Iraq War—voting with him in the Senate, defending his actions and publicly praising his leadership.

McCain maintains the war was a good idea.

At the 2004 Republican National Convention, McCain, focusing on the war in Iraq, said that while weapons of mass destruction were not found, Saddam once had them and "he would have acquired them again." McCain said the mission in Iraq "gave hope to people long oppressed" and it was "necessary, achievable and noble." McCain: "For his determination to undertake it, and for his unflagging resolve to see it through to a just end, President Bush

Senator McCain: "The war, the invasion was not a mistake. [Meet the Press, 1/6/08]

Asked if the war was a good idea worth the price in blood and treasure, McCain: "It was worth getting rid of Saddam Hussein. He had used weapons of mass destruction, and it's clear that he was hell-bent on acquiring them." [Republican Debate, 1/24/08]

McCain defended Bush's rationale for war. Asked if he thought the president exaggerated the case for war, McCain said, "I don't think so." [Fox News, 7/31/03]

McCain has been President Bush's most ardent Senate supporter on Iraq. According to Michael Shank of the Foreign Policy in Focus think tank, McCain was at times Bush's "most solid support in the Senate" on Iraq. [Foreign Policy in Focus, 1/15/08]

McCain voted against holding Bush accountable for his actions in the war. McCain opposed the creation of an independent commission to investigate the development and use of intelligence leading up to the war in Iraq. [S. Amdt. 1275 to H.R. 2658, Vote # 284, 7/16/03]

McCain praised Bush's leadership on the war. McCain: "I think the president has led with great clarity and I think he's done a great job leading the country..." [MSNBC, Hardball, 4/23/03]

Senator McCain has constantly moved the goal posts of progress for the war—repeatedly saying it would be over soon.

January 2003: "But the point is that, one, we will win this conflict. We will win it easily." [MSNBC, 1/22/03]

March 2003: "I believe that this conflict is still going to be relatively short." [NBC, Meet the Press, 3/30/03]

June 2004: "The terrorists know that this is a very critical time." [CNN, 6/23/04]

December 2005: "Overall, I think a year from now, we will have a fair amount of progress [in Iraq] if we stay the course." [The Hill, 12/8/05]

November 2006: "We're either going to lose this thing or win this thing within the next several months." [NBC, Meet the Press, 11/12/06]

Senator McCain opposed efforts to end the overextension of the military that is having a devastating impact on our troops.

McCain voted against requiring mandatory minimum downtime between tours of duty for troops serving in Iraq. [S. Amdt.. 2909 to S Amdt. 2011 to HR 1585, Vote 341, 9/19/07; S Amdt. 2012 to S Amdt. 2011 to HR 1585, Vote #241, 7/11/07]

McCain was one of only 13 senators to vote against adding $430 million for inpatient and outpatient care for veterans. [S Amdt. 3642 to HR 4939, Vote 98, 4/26/06]

Senator McCain has consistently opposed any plan to withdraw troops from Iraq.

Senator McCain repeatedly voted against a timetable for withdrawing troops from Iraq. [S. Amdt. 3876 to S.Amdt. 3874 to H.R. 2764, Vote #438, 12/18/07; S.Amdt.. 3875 to S.Amdt.. 3874 to H.R. 2764, Vote # 437, 12/18/07; S.Amdt.3164 to H.R. 3222, Vote # 362, 10/3/07; S.Amdt. 2898 to S.Amdt. 2011 to H.R. 1585, Vote #346, 9/21/07; S.Amdt. 2924 to S.Amdt.. 2011 to H.R.1585, Vote #345, 9/21/07; S.Amdt.2 087 to S.Amdt. 2011 to H.R. 1585, Vote #252, 7/18/07; S.Amdt. 643 to H.R. 1591, Vote #116, 3/27/07; S.Amdt. 4320 to S. 2766, Vote #182, 6/22/06; S.Amdt. 4442 to S. 2766, Vote #181, 6/22/06; S.Amdt.. 2519 to S.1042, Vote # 322, 11/15/05]

Senator McCain has consistently demonized Americans who want to find a responsible way to remove troops from Iraq so that we can take the fight to al Qaeda.
McCain: "I believe to set a date for withdrawal is to set a date for surrender." [Charlotte Observer, 9/16/07]

McCain called proponents of a congressional resolution opposing the troop surge in Iraq intellectually dishonest. [Associated Press. 2/4/07]

The Future:

Senator McCain now says he sees no end to the presence of U.S. troops in Iraq.

McCain: "[M]ake it a hundred" years in Iraq and "that would be fine with me." [Derry, New Hampshire Town Hall meeting, 1/3/08]

McCain on how long troops may remain in Iraq: "A thousand years. A million years. Ten million years. It depends on the arrangement we have with the Iraqi government." [Associated Press, 1/04/08]

PAID FOR BY MOVEON.ORG POLITICAL ACTION, http://pol.moveon.org/
Not authorized by any candidate or candidate's committee

What kind of fuckery is this?

First Brad Renfro, now poor Heath Ledger. Talented actors just seem to have more demons than sucky ones (although Ledger's family believes his overdose was accidental--hopefully, that's the case). After Ten Things I Hate About You and A Knight's Tale, I dismissed Heath Ledger as another teenybopper pretty boy, but I had a change of heart after catching him in Monster's Ball. His performance was the only thing worthwhile about that overpraised turd of a movie. (Halle "Check Out My Tits!" Berry won an Oscar for that crap, and yet Heath was completely robbed of his Oscar a few years later...he SO should have won Best Actor for Brokeback Mountain!) Anyhow, it's depressing. I haven't been this shook up about an actor's death since River Phoenix in 1993.

R.I.P., Heath. You will be missed.

Sad news about an actor from one of my favorite films, Ghost World. Brad Renfro, (he played Josh), is dead at age 25. Apparently, he'd struggled with drugs and alcohol for many years.

R.I.P. Josh. :-(

Bambi's and the Bumble

I'm putting this video in for my Ian, who (being British) is unfamiliar with the oddly animated, vaguely creepy American classic "Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer" Christmas special that my generation went nuts for. (I'll admit, I still watch this thing whenever it's on TV...can't help it. I'm sentimental). When I took Ian to the Mall of America this year, he was puzzled by the Rudolph Christmas display...("What's with all the little Bambi's?")

So here is the Rudolph trailer, from way back in the day. A word of warning, at the end, the soundtrack goes all wonky and it's a bit startling. Someone on YouTube suggested that it was the sound of Bumble the Abominable Snowman taking out the sound crew. You decide.

A QUOTABLE YEAR

According to Fred R. Shapiro, the editor of the Yale Book of Quotations, these are some of the most memorable quotes of 2007:

Lauren Upton, the South Carolina contestant in the Miss Teen USA pageant, gave this long, rambling, cracked-out answer when asked why one-fifth of Americans are unable to locate the United States on a map:

"I personally believe that U.S. Americans are unable to do so because some people out there in our nation don't have maps and I believe that our education like such as in South Africa and Iraq and everywhere like such as and I believe that they should our education over here in the U.S. should help the U.S., or should help South Africa and should help Iraq and the Asian countries so we will be able to build up our future for us."

Jesus, even I'm more coherent when I'm stoned, and that's saying something. Of course, in Miss Teen USA's case it's probably not the chronic--just sheer stupidity. After all, her generation is to blame for making Britney Spears a star. I weep for the future.

Here's a gem from Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad's October speech at Columbia University: "In Iran we don't have homosexuals like in your country."

Right, dude. There are no homosexuals in Iran, and your women are perfectly happy forsaking their civil rights and veiling themselves from head to toe in the suffocating desert heat. Tell me another one, asshole.

Of course, there's the one from "shock jock" Don Imus about the "nappy-headed hos" of the Rutgers women's basketball team, which I'm not bothering to even type because it's so damn stupid. Also "shock jock"? WTF? People still use that term? That's so eighties. What's shocking about Don Imus? His fucked up hair? His wrinkled, acne scarred face? Gross, but not shocking.

"I don't recall." -- Former U.S. Attorney General Alberto Gonzales' repeated response to questioning at a congressional hearing about the firing of U.S. attorneys.

Subtext: "I got caught, and I'm counting Bush to get me out of this mess before I shit myself in terror. Also, it's not my fault."

"There's only three things he (Republican presidential candidate and former New York City Mayor Rudy Giuliani) mentions in a sentence: a noun and a verb and 9/11." -- Sen. Joseph Biden, speaking at a Democratic presidential debate.

Heh. That one is pretty awesome. Reminds me of that South Park episode with the country singer (Toby Keith?) singing a song comprised entirely of the words "9/11".

"I'm not going to get into a name-calling match with somebody (Vice President Dick Cheney) who has a 9 percent approval rating." -- Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid, a Democrat.

Word!

"(I have) a wide stance when going to the bathroom." -- Idaho Republican Sen. Larry Craig's explanation of why his foot touched that of an undercover policeman in a men's room.

A wide stance? WTF? Doesn't he realize that makes him sound even MORE gay? Come out of the closet already, Lare.

"I mean, you got the first mainstream African-American who is articulate and bright and clean and a nice-looking guy. I mean, that's a storybook, man." -- Biden describing rival Democratic presidential candidate Barack Obama.

While I agree with Biden on Guiliani, he's painted himself in a corner on this one. The "first mainstream African American?" C'mon, everyone knows he wasn't the first. Philip Michael Thomas was.

"I think as far as the adverse impact on the nation around the world, this administration has been the worst in history." -- Former President Jimmy Carter in an interview in the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette newspaper.

Well said, Jimmy.

And I just have to add a quote on my own here. This gem was vomited up by Whoopi Goldberg on The View. Goldberg had the gall to defend Michael Vick, that piece of shit football player from that who-gives-a-shit football team recently given a little tap on the wrist (only 24 months in jail, probably at a minimum security facility), for dogfighting. In doing so, she managed to insult African Americans, everyone in the south, and any decent person in possession of half a brain.

"You know from (Vick's) background this is not an unusual thing for where he comes from," said Goldberg. "There are certain things that are indicative to certain parts of our country."

Co-host Joy Behar seemed shocked at Goldberg's statements. "How about dog torture and dog murdering," Behar asked.

"Unfortunately it's part of the thing," Goldberg replied.

Behar continued to shake her head in disgust.

Goldberg said it seemed to her that it took a while for Vick to realize that the charges against him were serious. "It seemed like a light went off in his head when he realized that this was something the entire country really didn't appreciated (sic), didn't like," Goldberg said, referring to Vick's guilty plea.

Goldberg pointed out that Vick was raised in the South. "This is part of his cultural upbringing...this is a kid who comes from a culture when this is not questioned."

BULLSHIT BULLSHIT BULLSHIT. I have relatives all over the damn south, and none of them participate in dogfights. And it is sure as hell not a fucking African American thing, as she insinuates. Dogfighting is an abominable, assholish thing that only subhuman dickheads like Michael Vick do. Eat me, Whoopi Goldberg. Defending this putrid excuse for a human being is not okay. So, "a light went off in his head" when he realized that people "really didn't appreciate" him torturing and killing dogs (let alone his participation and facilitation of a barbaric and illegal "sport")? Great. A light went off in his head when he got caught. What an intelligent and sensitive person. Brings a tear to my eye, in fact.

Michael Vick should be rubbed up with raw meat and fed to a pack of rabid dogs. That is the only acceptable punishment. THAT would bring a tear to my eye.

A tear of fucking joy.

I am pretty good at picking out Christmas presents for other people, but when friends and family ask me what I'd like for Christmas (or my birthday, Arbor Day, Kwanzaa, whatever) I always draw a blank. What the hell do I want? Today, it finally came to me. Friends and relations, if you are looking for the perfect Christmas gift, look no further than this tasty bit of British eye candy (and enjoy some comedy while you're at it):



Ah, Jude. I never tire of gazing upon his fair visage.

Shut up. This is my Christmas wish list, not yours. And it isn't even a list--just one item, for Christ's sake--so that should make it easier for everyone. It's actually pretty simple. Jaunt on over to the U.K., yank Jude out from under Sienna Miller, or his kid's nanny, or Matt Damon, or whatever bit of crumpet he's currently sticking it in, stuff him in a box (don't forget to poke air holes in it! The box...not Jude), and ship him over to me. Don't worry about Next Day Air or whatever, Standard is fine. I can wait.

C'mon, pleeeeease???? I promise to feed him and to walk him every day and clean up his messes and keep him off the furniture.

Please?

And don't tell me to ask Santa. I know the fat bastard doesn't even exist.

YOU PINEAPPLE! YOU FUZZY COOTIE!

The State was the funniest American comedy show ever produced. It was fucking brilliant. I am mystified that this show is not out on DVD. (It was supposed to be released in October, but Paramount has pushed the release date back indefinitely, for no particular reason other than the fact that they're complete assholes). And yet Saturday Night Live continues to shit out their "Best of" crapola, now featuring actors that weren't even cast members (The Best of Alec Baldwin? WTF? Who went and started the rumor that he was even funny?) Thankfully, I've been able to find a few State clips on YouTube. This one--"Tenement"--is one of my favorites. Watch, enjoy, and pass it on. We must spread the holy gospel of The State, my children.

Two posts in the same day??

This is what happens when I'm bored at work. I thought of a list:

Songs that I never want to hear again, ever (but probably fucking will...)

1. Brown-Eyed Girl by Van Morrison

Enough already. I'm sick of this song, and it sucks that I seem to be the only one who's sick of it. I can't go into a bar without hearing it. And I mean any bar, anytime, anywhere. And if you pay attention, the lyrics are sickeningly cloying and a little creepy. (Again, am I the only one who realizes this? Apparently so.) Another sucky thing is that I can't hear it without thinking of that Julia Roberts movie Sleeping With the Enemy, because of the scene where she tries on hats with her new (gay) boyfriend and they dance around to this song. And yeah, the boyfriend in that movie is totally gay. Come on. Julia's character is married to that psychotic guy with the moustache who beats her like a circus monkey when she forgets to arrange the Jolly Green Giant canned peas in the cabinets with the labels facing front, the way he likes them. So she escapes to Iowa and meets this bearded guy who teaches drama at the local liberal arts college (red flag right there--or should I say pink flag?) who is watering his lawn and singing that "When You're a Jet" song from West Side Story (huge pink flag!) when she first meets him. And if that isn't enough, there is that scene where he makes her try on hats (GIANT pink flag) and if THAT isn't enough, there is a scene later on where he dresses her like a guy (GIANT sparkly pink flag, waved by Libarace's ghost). I rest my case. What was I talking about again? Oh yeah, that shitty Van Morrison song. Anyway, it sucks.

2. Love Shack by the B-52's

I like the B-52's, especially their first album. Dance This Mess Around? Awesome. Planet Claire? So fucking cool. Even their later stuff rocks. But this is their lamest song off of their only lame album, and of course, it's the only one of their songs that everyone seems to know, and (again) that everyone seems to like. This song has been played at every wedding reception I've attended since 1990. And, since I'm a single thirtysomething female, let's just say that's A LOT of fucking wedding receptions. I've had it. Play anything else. I'd even be willing to take Rock Lobster, their other overrated (though not nearly as over-played) song. And for my remaining single friends? Please, when and if you get married, I beg of you, DO NOT play this song at the reception. Let's start a new tradition: no fucking Love Shack.

3. Kiss by Prince

Man, do I hate this song. It sucks so hard, it blows. Prince--dude--what was with that stupid falsetto? To my recollection, it was the only time he busted it out. (Oh wait, there was that song, "Wanna Be Your Lover" which sucked almost as hard). And that video, with that outfit he was wearing. You remember, that gay Mexican bandit ensemble with the exposed midriff that looked like something Madonna rejected during her "Who's That Girl?" period. And the lyrics! "You don't have to watch Dynasty to have an attitude." What the hell does that even mean? The only people I knew who watched Dynasty were my friend Amanda's parents, and they didn't have "attitude," at least not the kind Prince was probably singing about. It is an eerie coincidence that this song was also prominently featured in Pretty Woman, another crappy Julia Roberts movie. Between that and Sleeping With the Enemy, it's hard to say which one is the crappier film. Let's just say that if Sleeping With the Enemy is the Vice President of crappy Julia Roberts movies, then Pretty Woman is the President. And I'll leave it at that.

4. Mickey by Toni Basil

I remember first hearing this song in 1982, and it sucked then. You know what really sucks? Hearing it in 2007, especially when it's grouped with other songs from that era--good songs like Tainted Love and Turning Japanese--in every damn Best of the Eighties CD compilation. Not that I (cough) would ever own anything as tacky as a Best of the Eighties CD compilation.

5. Walk Like An Egyptian by the Bangles

Did anyone actually like this song? It was like the worst of the worst of that era--a total rip-off of the Go-Go's We Got the Beat by a band that shot their wad with their first album and Going Down To Liverpool. Then Prince got a tiny boner for the lead singer, wrote Manic Monday for her, and it was all downhill from there. And by the way, the Go-Go's wrote their own songs. I'm just saying.

6. Everybody Have Fun Tonight by Wang Chung

Another example of a decent band who will only be remembered by the general public for the worst song they ever recorded. Remember Dance Hall Days? And To Live and Die in LA? Neither does anybody else, and those were good songs. It's tragic, really.

7. Brick House by The Commodores

Ever hear that saying "stacked like a brick shithouse?" It's a southern expression, used to describe a woman who is, well, stacked like a brick shithouse (I'm assuming that the south is the only place you can still see a brick shithouse. Well, the south and Khazakstan). Yes kids, a brick shithouse. Except they couldn't say "shithouse" on the radio in 1975, or whenever that song was recorded so they said "brick house." This is another one of those ditties played ad infinitum at wedding receptions, because nothing says everlasting love like a song about some chick stacked like "a brick (shit)house." How incredibly romantic.

When I sit around the house, I really sit around the house...

There's a photo of me in the current issue of CityPages. I look ugly, old and FAT. Tomorrow I am joining a yoga class and then buying one of those thingies to make my bike stationary so that this winter I will be able to pedal my ass down to a more managable size, cause this SUCKS. I am tired of being fat. I'm not obese, but I'd like my fucking jeans to fit again without my love handles/blubber hanging out for all the world to see. I know now that I will never get pregnant, because, (sorry to sound vain here....) (actually, no--I'm not sorry)--I NEVER want to be bigger than I am now. If I ever feel the need to swim upstream and spawn, I will do an Angelina Jolie and adopt a brat from some third world nation. Then I'll look like a saint AND be able to avoid wearing those ugly maternity outfits. My apologies to any and all men chomping at the bit to impregnate me. Guess you'll have to plant your seed somewhere else.

They love me in Berlin!

In honor of my favorite holiday, I thought I'd post this. Yes, it's another damn YouTube clip--the trailer for the scariest bad movie ever, Liquid Sky. Not for the faint of heart, this film is for hardcore bad movie buffs only. The funniest thing about Liquid Sky now is the way that film geeks are trying to label it an arthouse "classic." One movie site even proclaims it THE film that defined the eighties (???). Yes, kids. In the eighties we all dressed like retarded mimes and did bad performance art when we weren't having sex with corpses and getting dive-bombed by miniature flying saucers piloted by tiny aliens in search of heroin. Good times!



Happy Halloween, to you and yours!

Because I want to update my blog more often, I am posting. Because I am lazy and distracted and working today, it's going to be a quick one. And because my new addiction is YouTube, well...here you go. It's the video for The Streets, "Don't Mug Yourself," (one of my favorites). I discovered The Streets last year whilst browsing in Robot Love, a funky Uptown store with Japanese clothes and assorted kitschy gewgaws. The clerk was playing Original Pirate Material, and that's all it took. Suddenly, I was a Streets fan. This video is awesome...I never knew that Mick Skinner was such a cutie until I saw this. The photos on the CD don't do him justice--I expected him to be scruffier and a little more hip hop. Thankfully, that isn't the case.

Anyhoo, enjoy.

AHA!
Through the miracle of YouTube, I bring you Alan Partridge (Steve Coogan) singing an Abba medley. Insanely funny stuff.

(Thanks to Marcus for the YouTube tutorial).

STUFF I'VE BEEN READING AND WATCHING

Didn't do a whole hell of a lot this summer, aside from having altercations with crackwhores, spending time in airports (not unlike a certain senator--although I wasn't soliciting undercover officers for sex), getting drunk and/or stoned, and working, working, working. I've also done a bit of reading and TV watching, because--shit--what else am I gonna do in my free time besides update my blog and/or stare at my computer screen with increasing frustration while I try to get the last 50 pages of my novel written? Seriously, that wasn't a rhetorical question. What the hell else am I gonna do???

Some books I read:
Sal Mineo: His Life, Murder, and Mystery by H. Paul Jeffers


Still working on this one--I can't get enough of lurid hollywood bios of dead stars, even one as cheesey as this. I'm only a casual fan of Sal Mineo, and was surprised to learn that he actually had a career beyond Rebel Without A Cause. All the dirt in the book makes me want to watch it again to see if I can pick up on all the gay subtext supposedly buried in the relationship between Sal and James Dean's characters.

A Thousand Strokes of the Brush Before Bed by "Melissa P."


Ugh. Just....ugh. Contrived, conventional, and BORING. "Based on a true story" my ass. True stories are juicier than this. For a far superior read about a similar "sexually insatiable teen" (I hate even typing that. Such a cliche!) check out Innocents by Cathy Coote. No one's heard of it but me, of course.


History Lesson for Girls by Aurelie Sheehan


I ADORED this one. Definitely the best novel I've read all year. I reviewed it in the next 360, which is (supposed to be) hitting newsstands next week.

Some stuff I watched:
American Dreamz

Rented this on DVD recently, mostly because Hugh Grant was in it. Surprisingly good, surprisingly cynical too--which of course I loved. Cynical about America, cynical about Bush (Dennis Quaid plays a Bush-like idiot President), cynical about popular culture (including American Idol), cynical about pretty much everyone and everything. And the ending is fucking awesome.

Half Nelson

This one was amazing. I hadn't heard much about Ryan Gosling before, but he is brilliant in this (he plays one of those hip/inspirational teachers who really gets through to the kids...and who also happens to be a crack addict). Nothing about this movie is what you'd expect, and that's why it rocks. Even as a crackhead, Ryan Gosling is pretty fine. Even if he's not British.


I'm Alan Partridge

This is the summer I discovered the genius that is Steeve Coogan. I think I love him. I want to have sexytime with him and make him have liquid explosion. (NOTE: you have to imagine that last bit in a Borat voice, or it doesn't work). And I don't even care that (Coogan) had sex with Courtney Love in real life or that he's (allegedly) a cokehead. I find him oddly, insanely sexy and I'm not even embarrassed about it. Anyway, this show (and Steve, as Alan Partrige)? Fucking hilarious. The night I watched this DVD for the first time, I had a dream that I actually did have sexytime with Alan Partridge (not Steve, but Alan. He was even in full Alan makeup). And then he kicked me out of bed, which is oddly telling about the current state of my sex life.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME--and Shane, my Irish Twin, whose birthday is today!

In honor of my 34th birthday, (which is actually in 2 days...August 19th) here are some photos chronicling some random moments in my life. Please enjoy.



This is me as a toddler (Mini-Me!). Check out my rockin' David Cassidy hair! I was so with the times (this would have been approx. 1974). Gotta say though--the white shoes and black socks? Not my idea.



Here I am, age 5, at my grandmother's pool in Tulsa. Look how leggy I was even then! Also, is it creepy to say that I wish my stomach was still that flat? Probably.



That's my cousin Andrea rocking the Izod shirt, my sister Michelle is the one in braces, and that's me in the hideous striped ensemble. (Again, not my idea). This photo is dated 1982, so I would have been about 9 years old here. That's my uncle's dog Beau, who I adored. (R.I.P. Beau!) :-(



Fast forward 6 years...here I am at age 15, freshman year of high school. Dig the acid-washed jean jacket, the bubble-gum pink shades, the frosted lipstick. I couldn't have been more '80s if I'd tried.



Posing with a Budweiser Clydesdale in an undated photo (probably mid-20's here). Just throwing this one in to show how blonde I once was.



My 30th birthday party! This was at my friend Andre's house, who threw the shindig in my honor. Here I am with my friends Matt and Matt (or The Brothers Matt, as I like to call them). Notice how I'm letting them feel me up. What a hoochie mama!



Same party. My very drunk sister smashed chocolate cake in my face.



Again, same party. Me and my ex, who shall remain nameless. Yes, I used to (voluntarily) have sex with this man. And can you blame me? I mean, just look at the chemistry between us; the raw, unbridled PASSION I inspired in him. Wow. Also, his shirt is so gay, it's practically a blouse. There are but a handful of straight men who can pull off a floral print. He is not one of them. Also? I look fat here.



This is me now (well, about 6 months ago). A little older, a lot wiser. Also, not as fat. I clean up good, no?

The Bridges of Hennepin County...

...are complete crap, apparently.

And to add insult to injury, check this out.
Bush Offers Federal Help Restoring Fallen Bridge

Wasn't FEMA a federal agency? Christ, is there no limit to this administration's stupidity?

You know what Dubya, we got it. Don't worry your empty little head about it. Just stay in Washington. Or better yet, go back to Crawford.

Seriously, we got it covered.

SHIT PISS COCK-SUCKING ASSHOLE FUCK.

I am having one of the worst summers in recent memory. First my boyfriend dumps me. Then my grandfather dies. Then I get the front bumper of my car knocked completely off by a bleach-blonde crackhead who was driving the wrong way down a one way street. NOW I get fucked over by her insurance company (I'm as surprised as anyone that the bitch actually had insurance). Progressive Insurance (apparently the company of choice for loser crackhead whores) agent Chris Grubb (yeah, I used your name motherfucker), says that there is no evidence to suggest that the damage to my car was caused by his insured. Yeah. My fucking bumper fell off by itself. ASSHOLE. And this fucking whore (Leticia--yeah, a white girl named Leticia. I should have known how this would turn out) is saying that I rear ended her. And knocked off my whole front bumper. And then reported the claim to her insurance company because, you know, I have nothing better to do. I can't believe this HORSESHIT. When the hell is life going to stop shitting on me? I mean, I'm going to need some really good things to happen to me to make up for this. Like Jude Law showing up naked at my door with a can of whipped cream and a contract for a multi-million dollar book deal. I'll accept nothing less. Till then, look out crackhead. I'll get you, and your brokedown-looking drunk-ass Mexican boyfriend too.

Okay, but some good things have happened, and I don't mean to say that the bad totally cancels out the good. Marcus came up to see me earlier this month, which rocked. Marcus, Shane and I saw the Police at Xcel. THAT rocked. And we went to this kick ass T-shirt shop on Lyndale called Stroker Ace (it has a picture of Burt Reynolds's face on the sign! How could you not love that?) I bought Marcus a Stroker Ace T-shirt for his birthday. I think I was more excited about it than he was, but he did promise to wear it to the gym at least. More good things...Matthew is being nice to me. I'm making progress on my book. I've had six articles published in the last two months, one in a national magazine. So, yeah--maybe I shouldn't bitch. \

But still. Blonde crackhead bitch Leticia? Your ass is mine. Look out.

Two good things about this breakup---I've been going out all night with friends and getting the chance to act VERY immature (apparently, guys in bars like to be groped by drunk women. Who knew?). The second is that I've been getting tons more work done. Here is a piece I just wrote for the new issue of 360 newspaper. It's just a bit for one of those "Stuff that bugs me" columns, but I'm quite proud of it.

What Part of Shhhh! Don’t You Understand?

By Andie Ryan

As a freelance writer, I spend a lot of time in public libraries, researching story ideas and browsing newspaper archives on microfiche machines (yes, they still exist). I also frequently have my laptop in tow and, occasionally, I am able to find a quiet corner in the library to hunker down and do some writing.

Notice that I said “occasionally.”

It seems that the libraries of my youth, where silence was expected—and enforced—have gone the way of disco music (and I’m only 33). Over the last twenty years, libraries have become considerably noisier, and I find that the librarians and check-out clerks tend to look the other way. It is apparently now acceptable for young children to run rampant through the stacks, howling to one another and braying at their parents. The adult patrons are oftentimes just as bad, yakking away on cell phones and having loud conversations with one another, oblivious to the reproachful looks coming from those of us who are there to study, read, or even just surf the internet in peace.

This makes me sad, because I really love libraries. For me, as a writer and avid reader, it’s my version of church. Although I’m not a religious person, I see libraries as sacred and deserving of respect, reverence, and—most of all—silence.

So think of this the next time you visit your local library. And please, shut up!

I'm doing a bit better than last week, but no less bitter. For those of you just joining us (actually, my last post was pretty damn vague, so I apologize for that)--my boyfriend Matthew has fucked off into the sunset, (kissed off into the air?), giving me the old classic, time-honored "I'm just not ready" speech before running away like a little bitch. So, I'm back to having cheap meaningless sex--which, as it turns out, was all he was after in the first place. It is more fun than a relationship, I'll give him that. And a hell of a lot easier. But anyway, I didn't just come here to whine about another lost cause....

I went to the Fitzgerald Theatre last night to see the REAL man of my dreams, Michael Chabon (Pulitzer Prize winner, brilliant writer, my all time idol, and an all around HOTTIE!) so that has alleviated my mood considerably. Here is a photo of us together, and I don't mind saying, we make an adorable couple.

NOTHING MATTERS, AND WHAT IF IT DID?

I want to walk up to every happy couple and tell them, "You know this isn't going to work out, right?" Maybe it sounds cynical, maybe it sounds assholish, maybe I'm just a cynical asshole. But seriously, how many couples who are happy together stay that way? (Either happy, or together, or both?) I'd estimate around 1%, and those are the ones who are 85 years old and close to dying, and just happy to have someone there for them.

It never works out. It never ever ever works out. No matter how much you like them, no matter how horny you can make them, no matter how often you have sex, no matter how much effort you put into it, no matter how hard you try to say and do the right things, no matter how witty and urbane and sweet and charming and attentive and fun you try to be---it's useless. In the end, we're all alone. The more I try to fight that sad fact of life, the more it fucks me in the ass.

I'll leave you with a quote that a friend emailed me yesterday in a game effort to lift my spirits. It didn't work, but I don't think anything will at this point. Anyway, it sounds nice.

"It’s my belief that history is a wheel; inconstancy
is my very essence says the wheel. Rise up on my
spokes if you like but don’t complain when your cast
back down into the depths. Good times pass away but
then so do the bad. Mutability is our tragedy, but
it’s also our hope. The worst of times like the best
are always passing away."

--Boethius, author of the Consolation of Philosophy

I seriously need to lose weight. Now, I know I'm not obese--I don't have body dysmorphic disorder, and neither am I one of those annoying girls who forever blab about how fat they are and how many calories they consumed yesterday and the South Beach Diet and bleh. But last night, I as I was trying to squeeze into a dress I wanted to wear out to my boyfriend's birthday dinner, something became painfully obvious:

My ass has gotten huge since last summer.

And I'm generally on good terms with my butt; I have a pretty shapely ass (for a white girl) and I can fill out a pair of jeans well. But there's an uncomfortable difference between shapely and rotund, as I realized last night as I attempted to stretch my slinky black dress (a dress that fit me just fine last August) down over my hips.

This sucks, because it means I have to start exercising and watching what I eat. Not that I mind exercising--now that temperatures have (finally) climbed above freezing in Minnesota, I can walk to work and start biking again, which I enjoy. It's the watching what I eat part that I hate, because I love to eat. I love a large Cafe Mocha in the morning; I frequently love a cinnamon donut with my aforementioned Mocha; I love Indian cuisine with all the attendant carbs; I love Chipotle burritos with extra guacamole; I love a real beer (not that lite shit)...you get the picture.

Looks like it's going to be soup, salad and granola bars for the next several months.

Sometimes when checking my email, I get a wild hair up my ass and decide to actually read one of the thirty or so spam messages that go to my bulk folder. I know it's stupid, because any one of them may contain a virus that could wipe out my entire hard drive (or worse). However, when I see an email with something like "He lick the horse!" in the subject line, my curiosity/boredom (those two emotions are closely related) sometimes gets the best of me.

Also, I'm easily amused.

So here is something that showed up in my inbox when I checked my oft-neglected gmail account. It's an advertisement for cheap Viagra (I had to read the fine print to glean even that much---I was so distracted by the rambling, cracked out "verse" about the dog and the alien and the Itchy Foot Itch).


Re: my confitur
Arvel Harney

sangera@carl-theodor-schule.de

of cooked meat wafted out and everyone was awake in an instant.
Because I told you to. It is of vital importance and you have no
temporooter. Only they think that it is an alien artifact from the far
because our fake dog was digging away like a real dog throwing dirt
He broke off as Indefatigable came running back.
musicality-The Itchy Foot Itch!
Are we going to have to talk to all of them?
shouted at me his breath frightened me more than he did.
Until this moment none of us had ever seen the tenor who was right
huge! I dont even come up to their legpits.
from them following the others. There was a creak and a thud from

And then it just trails off! What the hell? The bizarre thing is, I think it worked. Although I don't have a penis, I suddenly have an intense urge to purchase some low-cost Viagra.

Subliminal advertising is spooky!

So....
I am crawling out from the rock I've been hiding under to blog on some random thoughts that have been nagging at me lately. Not the kind of nagging thoughts that wake me at 3am in a cold sweat (I don't have too many of those, thankfully), and not even of the "did I leave the oven on?" variety. These are more like thoughts that occur to me while I'm sitting at a stoplight and happen to glimpse (for example) a poster advertising the latest kiddie movie starring a once-controversial rapper or comedian (see below), initially famous for having blantantly misogynistic, homophobic and/or violent lyrics/stand-up material (again, see below).

THINGS THAT PUZZLE ME (2007 EDITION):

1. The white guy from In Living Color is a huge movie star.

2. The cross-dressing guy with the creepy Prince moustache from In Living Color is an Academy Award-winning actor.



My thoughts on the matter: Was that show a gigantic turd, or is it me? I was sixteen when it debuted, and even at that tender, less-discerning age, I found it big-time Not Funny. And I used to watch Married, With Children for Christ's sake.

3. Between Britney and Christina, the latter has emerged as the classy one.





My thoughts on the matter: Please be advised that I use the term "classy" very loosely. No pun intended.

4. Marky Mark is now a respected actor.



My thoughts on the matter: My love for Boogie Nights notwithstanding, I find him to be a bit of a douche. Although, to be fair, it could be residual bitterness from having to hear that dumb "Good vibrations--fresh like Sunkist!" song ad nauseaum back in 1991, (not to mention his horrifying remake of Lou Reed's "Walk on the Wild Side".)

5. The Fresh Prince is now a respected actor. (And while I'm at it, whatever happened to DJ Jazzy Jeff?)



My thoughts on the matter: Holy shit, those jackets! They make my eyes all hurty. What we have here, folks, is an example of the worst of late eighties/early nineties fashions. Believe me, I was there. And it wasn't pretty.

6. Eddie Murphy is making kiddie movies.



My thoughts on the matter: Remember that bit he did in Delirious about Ralph Kramden cornholing Ed Norton? And yet people still took their kids to see Daddy Day Care.

7. Ice Cube is making kiddie movies.







My thoughts on the matter: I can't decide which photo is scarier.

8. American Idol is still going strong.



My thoughts on the matter: No comment, just a long and disappointed sigh.

Thanks to Marcus, I now have 893 songs on my iPod! I had 39 songs (thanks to Shane), but now that Marcus hooked me up and let me raid his music database, I have, like, over three times that amount! (Or something like that. Math isn't my strong suit...)

So without further ado, I am proud to present my first ever iPod shuffle list--because I know you care deeply:

1. Me Around - Michael Penn
2. Mountains - Prince
3. I Believe/All I Need To Know - Duran Duran
4. Melt Your Heart - Jenny Lewis with The Watson Twins
5. Disembodied Voices - Finn Brothers

I don't know what it is about posting an iPod shuffle list, but it does make me feel cooler somehow. The hipster rule of thumb seems to be that the more eclectic your list, the more awesome you are. Seriously. I think I read that on Wikipedia, so it must be right. This means that all I need is to add a little Lawrence Welk, some Ramstein, a dash of the Andrews Sisters and a Megadeath CD or two and I will be so cool, I'll practically have freezer burn.

So, I saw Apocalypto the other day. I'll forgo a real review in favor of an open letter to Mel Gibson:

Dear Mel,

1. Hearts being ripped out for human sacrifices? And the dec(r)apitations that followed? And every entrail-ripping, blood-spurting, intestine-exposing death/mutilation that occured before and after that? To paraphrase esteemed film critic Tom Servo, I don't need to see every part of the human body--I can trust it's all there.
2. Funny how, in true Hollywood tradition, the homely members of the tribe were killed off immediately, and the photogenic ones (of course) were damn near invincible.
3. I wasn't aware that the sun made a whooshing sound during an eclipse. Then again, I never was good at all that science-y stuff.
4. I remember when you were still Australian. What happened to that? It made you cuter and sort of cool, a la The Year of Living Dangerously. (oh, who am I kidding, I'd still have sex with the Aussie bastard).
5. White man's arrival = Doomsday? That was a pretty cool message. The rest of the film I could have done without.

Thank you for your time.

Sincerely,

Andie

Six months. Six fucking months without a single post. I feel that I've failed you, my loyal readers (all 9 of you). Hopefully you've been content to browse the archives and reminisce about the days when I updated this thing on a regular basis.

Here is what I've been up to over the past six months (sorry for the annoying list format, it helps me think):

• Quit my temp job at G.E. in late June to house-sit for Becca, my friend and St. Paul Writer's Guild comrade. Two and a half weeks all alone in a beautiful, quiet home with access to a swimming pool and cable TV, wifi, and the most extensive private library I've ever seen...it was heaven. I was extremely productive in my writing during this time: up at 6am to let the dogs out, feed and water the cats, some tea and toast, then straight to the laptop to start pounding out the latest chapter of my book. Someday, this will be my daily routine.
• P.S.--I would have updated my blog at this time, but three days into my stay I spilled wine on my laptop, killing my computer and, subsequently, my wifi connection. Thank Godfully, my novel was saved on my jump drive and well out of my drunken reach at the time. Shane immediately came through with an extra laptop, which I was able to use to resume my writing (no internet connection, however, which turned out to be a blessing in disguise...)
• I remained unemployed for the next several weeks, and made a pilgrimage to the Motherland (Indiana) to hang with family and friends. I met up with Marcus for Indian food and the latest installment in our bad movie fest, this time it was Smokey and the Bandit Part II, which was just as wretched as you'd expect. (The catchphrase Marcus came up for this one was, "Alcoholism is funny!")
• Came back to Minnesota in early August and found a job as a massage therapist. (In the city of Minneapolis you don't have to be certified to practice, which fucking rules). I called about the job on a Friday night, interviewed the next morning, trained that same afternoon, and had my first two clients that night (usually the training process is a lot longer, but my boss was hurting for therapists at the time). Now we're fully staffed and I'm working my ass off, but making awesome, awesome cash! I now would rather pull my off my nipples with a pair of pliers than go back to temping--(I don't know how I survived on that shit for so long, but you do what you gotta do, I suppose). One of the great things about this job is that it's given me incredible fodder for my writing, with all the oddballs and the strange requests I get on a daily basis...it's a storyline goldmine that I will be mining regularly for blog posts and other projects. I've already thought of a television series based on my experiences. I'm thinking it would be something for HBO; you know, where they can show nudity and not be restricted by language or subject matter. Portia di Rossi can play me (I know, I'm flattering myself with that casting choice, but we do kinda have the same eyebrows...) and Kevin Spacey can play my lovably perverted, tranny- chasing boss. Personally, I think it's brilliant.
• So, this brings me to the reason that I'm so pathetically behind on my blog posts--I don't have the same internet access that I had when I worked in an office. I will be buying myself a desktop computer shortly to use for email and blogging (I am restricting myself mainly to those two functions. Well, I also have to visit my friends' blogs, and the Duran Duran website, and The Superficial, and look for more Jude Law photos, but that's it...I promise.)

Anyhoo, as always--thank you for reading, and rest assured that I haven't abandoned the blog. Check back soon!

NOTE: I've been posting so much J.T. and Duran stuff lately that I wasn't going to do this, but fuck it. My blog, my rules.

This past Tuesday, June 20, was truly a sacred day: the 46th birthday of Nigel John Taylor.

It is written in the Book of Duran (John 3:16)

"For Simon Le Bon so loved the world that he gave his one and only bassist, standing aside to let John have all the glory (and most of the groupies)."

And because, well, Simon totally had (and still has) a thing for John.

From a 1997 interview Simon did with a British music rag:

"The first time I saw John, he was this speccy geek with nicotine-stained fingers, trembling with fear at the prospect of having to meet people. And his name wasn’t even John. It was Nigel. He was a Nigel with glasses, poor sod. I remember staring at his face and slowly realising that he was rather beautiful, exquisite in fact. I mean, this was the best looking guy I’d seen in years, maybe my whole life."

Yeah, I could go on and on with my theories on these two.

(Okay, this one is Photoshopped. But a girl can dream...)

Anyway, John posted a birthday message and some new photos of himself goofing around by the swimming pool on Trust the Process. Check 'em out here.

Photo #1 - Rowr!

Photo #2 - Cute

Photos # 3 - 6 (gator wrestling) - I wouldn't mind being his inflatable pool toy...

Photo # 7 - 9 Okay, now these I have a problem with. I mean, who is he, Paris Hilton? What's with the gay little dogs? I'm going to have to agree with Nick Rhodes on this one: John, you're becoming too Hollywood. It doesn't suit you.

When I become Mrs. John Taylor #3, I vow to change all that. I'll get him back to his old foppish John self. No chihuauas, no Juicy Couture track suits, no ugly sunglasses. I will let him keep the inflatable toys, though.

And I will totally share him with Simon. It's the Christian thing to do.

What fresh hell is this?

It's the new American Idol "winner," apparently. I mean, I haven't been living under a rock; I heard all the brouhaha last month or whenever "America" voted in its new idol (another sign from God that I need to move to Canada), but I hadn't gotten a good look at him until this past weekend, when I caught the new Ford truck commercial featuring America's New Circus Geek--er, "Idol" TAYLOR HICKS.

Naturally, I have a few thoughts on the matter.

1. Memo to Ford Trucks: is this the best shill you could come up with--the winner of the gayest show on television? I don't know jack about advertising and focus groups and all that, but I'm guessing that the typical pick-up truck enthusiast doesn't watch American Idol.
2. Who is this Taylor Hicks guy, anyway? He looks and dances like somebody's dad. His "unofficial" fan site says he's 29. Well, my ass. If this dweeb is four years younger than I am, then Clay Aiken is an avowed heterosexual who regularly engages in threeways with Jessica Simpson and Lindsay Lohan. In other words, riiiiiiiiight.
3. Perhaps he is somebody's dad? Is that it? Did Simon Cowell just get sick of listening to all those theatre camp rejects belt out bad Whitney Houston songs, so he just stuck his dad up there and called it a day?
4. I smell a conspiracy. Too bad I don't care enough to explore it any further.

Play-BLAH

I was flipping through the channels the other day and I happened to catch the most disturbing program ever. It was on the E! Channel (surprise, surprise). It was called The Girls Next Door, and it was an "expose" on Hugh Hefner and his current stable of girlfriends. Actually, it was the E! True Hollywood Story (ugh) on the E! Channel's reality series The Girls Next Door, so it was an E! Channel expose on a TV show produced by the E! Channel. So this shocking "expose" was basically a long commercial for the channel's own damn show. Clever.

So Hugh Hefner is like 80 years old and he has seven girlfriends, all in their 20's (although one is 18, I think. Feeling queasy yet?) I only caught the last half of the special, thank Godfully, and these were the highlights:

• The "head" (hee!) girlfriend, (who is a dead-eyed, dead-faced, dead ringer for Pamela Anderson) gave just about the creepiest interview ever. She was positioned in front of this cheesey backdrop with a streaming water fountain thing that totally looked like a Fanta-Suite hotel room, sitting sort of cross-legged on the floor and BOLT upright-- she was like one of those poseable figurine dolls with the wires up the back that make them sit up straight. Her face was all frozen and expressionless as she spoke earnestly about her role as the alpha female of Hef's harem. (I think that's what she was talking about. I was too distracted by her weird botulistic face to pay much attention to what she was saying).
• The clip they showed from an episode of TGND, where one of the younger girlfriends was wigging out because she had a Playboy photo shoot scheduled at the same time as one of her finals (she was a college student, apparently). The girl was seriously losing her shit over this and ended up all huddled up in a fetal position on the stairs of the Playboy mansion because she was afraid of missing this "big opportunity" (the photo shoot) because of her final exam. I was thinking, honey--you're Hef's girlfriend. It's not like you can't pull some strings (gross!) and get the photo shoot rescheduled. Not exactly a Rhodes Scholar, that one....
• There was a shocking revelation (made by the alpha Pam Anderson girlfriend, I think), that some of Hef's past girlfriends have been (gasp!) "gold diggers," and she is relieved that they are now gone. Yeah. Like her silliconed tits and ass would be humping all over that 80-year-old man if he were just your average Joe Shmoe in the street (or in the nursing home, in this case). Riiiiiight. Tell me another one, Botox Girl.
• There was an interview with one of Hef's kids, who looked to be about 14 or 15 years old. He was saying that although he has "other goals," his big dream is to one day take over Dad's business and to help run the Playboy Empire. Um, kid? You're Hef's son. Isn't it pretty much a given that you'll be running things when the old man finally kicks off? It's not like a big fantastic pie-in-the-sky dream or anything. Either that kid is stunningly un-ambitious, or dumb as a chimp. I can't decide which.
• The end of the show featured a parade of bimbos vouching for Hef's sexual prowess, lest any of us think the man is all talk, no cock. And seriously? I could have happily lived out the rest of my days on God's green earth without knowing about that, thank you. The capper was an interview with the real Pamela Anderson, who relayed a story about being at a Playboy Mansion party and walking in on Hef and a half-dozen of his sluts du jour going at it on his gigantic bed. She actually looked pretty shell-shocked (I mean, more than usual) as she described how she was just transfixed by the whole scene, and suddenly she felt she was being "sucked" closer and closer to the bed. ("Sucked"? Whoa, I really don't want to know anything about that). She claims she ended up "freaking out" and running from the room, (which, if that's really what happened she has more sense than I would have thought). Then she had to go and gross me out all over again by declaring that she "loves" Hef and intends to have sex with him on his 90th birthday to prove it.

And that's when I "freaked out" and ran out of the room to go scrub myself with anti-bacterial soap. Ugh.

CURRENT MUSICAL CRACK

I am severely addicted to the following songs:

Duran Duran - White Lines

From their unfairly panned 1995 release, Thank You, which rocks--and I'm not just saying that because it's Duran Duran (contrary to popular belief, there are a few D2 efforts foul enough to make even the most steadfast Duranie cringe, to wit: Liberty, Pop Trash, and Amanda de Cadenet). But that's part of the band's charm, IMHO. They've been good, they've been bad, but (more often than not) the've been unbelievably fucking awesome. This song? A shining example of their awesomeness. And yes, I am fully aware that it is a remake (it's a tribute album, duh) and Grandmaster Flash did the original, but really--after hearing this? No need at all for the original. I propose that we declare this one the "original," if that's what makes the snotty musical purists happy. Actually, on second thought? Fuck the snotty musical purists! I have no need for them, either. This song is the shit. End of story.

Rod Stewart - What Am I Gonna Do (I'm So In Love With You)

The bouncy synth beat, the faux-Jamaican stylings, the sweet, dorky lyrics ("You're like rock n' roll and champagne, all in one...")--this song truly does it for me. And while most would argue that it's not Rod's best work (of course it isn't!), I hold it up as further evidence that this man can take any musical genre and work the hell out of it. You like country? I give you What Made Milwaukee Famous and Mandolin Wind. You like rock? Here's Stay With Me and Every Picture Tells A Story. Folk? Take Gasoline Alley and Mama, You've Been On My Mind. Disco? Yup, Passion and Do Ya Think I'm Sexy. Synth pop? Hell yeah, there's Baby Jane and Young Turks. Old standards? His current release is (if I'm not mistaken) The Great American Songbook, Volume IV. Rod is the Lizard King. He can do anything.

The Sounds - Much Too Long

I can't get enough of this one! Luvs the chimey piano, the whizzy guitars, and the chick rawker vocalist. I only recently discovered this band, but this song alone makes me want to hunt down everything they've ever recorded (two albums, apparently).

NO CAPTION NECESSARY

Ahhh, much easier on the eyes, no? No interactive post, no snarking required. Just sit back and enjoy the pretty. *swoon*

My latest obsession...

This week I discovered (on the advice of good friend Ian Shane) the music site pandora, and I am now ridiculously, shamelessly, hopelessly addicted. It's one of those "create your own radio station" sites and it fucking rocks. It's also my new favorite time waster at work...I've been rediscovering bands and musicians that I haven't listened to in years (Japan, Missing Persons, Erasure, Berlin) and--even better--I have discovered so many new and obscure artists I'd never heard of before and likely wouldn't have found on my own. A lot of these bands have the most awesome-est, trippiest names ever: We Are Scientists, The Weather Machines, Vanishing Kids, The Ladybug Transistors, No Wait Wait, Manda and the Marbles, and--my absolute favorite--I Love You But I've Chosen Darkness (yes, that's an actual band name). Check out my "favorites" page if you like (it's already 4 pages long!) at www.pandora.com/people/daizycakes. And feel free to make fun of my list, I am fully aware that my taste in music tends towards the eclectic; some of my entries are The Cure, David Bowie, Depeche Mode....and Andy Gibb. You may also scoff at selections like "Push the Button" by Sugababes (a song that practically drives me insane, I love it so much! Can't help it, I'm a sucker for catchy New Wave-ish Britpop). And there is one song that absolutely defies description, in fact I saved it to my favorites largely because it is so bizarre and goofy and it totally cracks me up, a song titled (no joke) "Elf Call" by an outfit going by the name of Steel Eye Span and Maddy Prior (I don't know). Check out the sample, it is a total riot! Their sound is difficult to describe, sort of a cross between Bjork and Smashmouth on some serious acid. Truly weird.

My only real issue with pandora is the songs it occasionally tries to sneak in on the radio stations I've created. They generally do a good job of sizing up your musical tastes and throwing out stuff that is similar, but at times its random choices are so off-the-wall and wrong that it's downright annoying. For instance: I ask for Kim Wilde, I get Samantha Fox. Not the same thing. Okay, maybe a little, but not really. Also, on my Go-Go's station it keeps trying to throw me shite like Celine Dion (UGH!) and Barbra Streisand, no matter how many times I hit the "don't like!" button when that crap pops up. It's as if they think, "Okay, famale artists: here's Blondie, Joan Jett, and, uhhhhh, oh hell, why not--Amy Grant! She's a chick, too. Enjoy!" And today it did the unforgivable...on my Disco Glam station it tried to foist some pukey song by The American Idol Season 4 "Runners Up" (read: rejects). If there was a gun nearby I would have pulled an Elvis and blown a hole through my damn computer monitor. (Good thing I didn't have any firearms handy, I probably would have gotten my ass fired for that one).

Anyway, check out pandora. Especially my list, because it rocks.