2 Good Reasons to...

never forget to take your pill.

Today my Paramount email came and the following shows were featured. Apparently for some increment of money you can view the "Doodlebops." I have NO idea what those are, but they look like villains from a Sci-Fi Channel Original Movie.





















For some more money you can catch "Dorothy Dinosaur's Dance Party" as well. Apparently this show features a dinosaur, a doggie, a pregnant squid, and a pirate. I'm wondering when the pirate, dinosaur, and squid gang up on the doggie. For 66 bucks I can find out. Or I could buy some shoes.

Happy Birthday, Baby

Happy Birthday, Mr. May Be President Someday After All, Happy Birthday to you.

John McCain, I salute you on this happy day. I will eat a cupcake in your honor this evening.

Quilters are dirty.

Mebbie and I went to Aaron Brothers to retrieve a custom mat that I had ordered and while we were there, the morons behind the counter were fretting because they realized there was no pen at the custom framing desk. Now, I don’t want to be a TOTAL bitch, but they sell pens at Aaron Brothers. Mebbie pulls a pen out of her purse and hands it to the elderly woman being helped at the counter. The woman glances at the pen and then does a double take and reads aloud, “The Strip Club.” Then Mebbie blurts, “I jacked that pen from my mom!”

Apparently, the Strip Club is some sort of quilting group. Or so she would have you believe.

Oh, and in a semi-related side note, I don't advise anyone to patronize Aaron Brothers. After three visits of a combined 2+ hours and a span of over 3 weeks I still do not have a mat that fits the frame that I bought at Aaron Brothers.

Bees in a Jeep

In order to save my houseguest some money and effort, I decided to loan her my car and borrow my grandparent’s spare Jeep. I think it is cursed.

Weeks ago I asked if I could borrow said Jeep and was told that I could, so it came as a wee bit of a surprise to helpful friend Steve and me when half-way to Monroe (a 45 minute plus drive) whilst stopping at a Starbucks for coffee I got a phone call along the lines of this:

“Hi Grammy!”

“Hi Punkin, are you on your way yet?”

“Yep, be there in maybe half an hour.”

“Oh, Ok. I thought I should mention that the Jeep isn’t always starting.”

“Uhm, what?”

“Yes, you may have to switch between park and neutral and try a few times.”

“Uhm. Right. Ok, well, see you in a bit.”

“Oh WAIT!”

“Yes?”

“Should I make extra bacon?”

“Yes.”

I was a tad bit nervous; but the car pickup went quite smoothly and all was well until I get to Safeway wherein I receive a phone call from Grammy letting me know that the tabs on the Jeep have expired. Cursed, I say, cursed.

The day before yesterday I was at the library (because I am studying to become a spinster) and I opened the driver side door to get out and there is a wasp nest between the door and the car’s frame. And in the nest, were the resident wasps.

How I had the car for four days and how prior to that nobody noticed the terrifying-stinging-insect infestation is beyond me.

I sat frozen watching the wasps buzzing about angrily for about 5 seconds before slamming the door with a squeak (mine, not the door’s). For some reason I thought that I could call Megan and she would tell me what to do. Her advice was limited to what came up on Google when she typed “wasp nest destroy.” You know what Megan? I hope law school works out for you because your terrifying-stinging-pest removal skills are piss poor.

Finally I called my uncle who told me to get back into the stinging/potential allergy attack inducing/death Jeep and drive over to his house. The drive was harrowing- though mostly for other drivers.

After crawling out the passenger side door I equipped myself in a makeshift beekeeper’s suit of a raincoat with the hood closed down to a tiny peephole.

My uncle went to the back porch, grabbed the wasp spray, extinguished his cigarette and in bare feet and plaid shorts walked up to the Jeep, opened the door and sprayed the nest.

The four wasps (I swear to God some must have sensed danger and escaped) promptly flopped to the ground. Then he asked me for a pen, which he used to pry the nest off the Jeep. Finally he threw the nest and corpses into the bushes and tried to give me the pen back. I told him to just keep the pen.

Now I don’t want to alarm my houseguest, but I’m pretty sure that someone from Bryn Mawr will be by to take my diploma back because they think I’m some sort squeaking, bug-fearing sissy girl who needs men to solve my problems.

They would be right.

The diploma fell behind the TV months ago and I’ve been too lazy to pick it up, so just reach back there and grab it. But if you jack up my NES, we’re going to have some words.

I’m an idiot.

This morning a coworker was making welcome signs in various languages and called me to ask if I speak Japanese; which I mostly do.

She then said “Can you come here and make sure it says ‘welcome’ and not ‘penis?’”

Then I said, “Well, does it say Youkoso?”

And she said, “I have no idea, because it is written in Japanese [you moron].”

Sorry Pluto, it's not you, it's us.

Well, it has happened. My glow in the dark solar system sheets are out of date.
Drat.
I feel kind of excited that the definition of planet is no longer 'round thing orbiting the sun.' Rules make me feel safe and happy.

I like my men like I like my construction noise:

with sporatic, but well-planned drilling....

The following arrived at high-priority status in my office mailbox today:

Dear fellow building occupants,
Please be advised that between the hours of 8:00 AM and 11:00 AM tomorrow morning (Thursday 8/24/06), there will be sporadic, but well-planned drilling noises near the tech services portion of the building. That is the northwest corner of the building. These noises should be short in duration.
Thank you for your patience.

As a footnote: this guy is totally married and is above me on the pay scale. Unbe-fucking-lievable.

Qu'est-ce que c'est

Psycho killer raccoons terrorize Olympia

Tue Aug 22, 9:04 PM ET

OLYMPIA, Washington - A fierce group of raccoons has killed 10 cats, attacked a small dog and bitten at least one pet owner who had to get rabies shots, residents of Olympia say.

Some have taken to carrying pepper spray to ward off the masked marauders and the woman who was bitten now carries an iron pipe when she goes outside at night.

"It's a new breed," said Tamara Keeton, who with Kari Hall started a raccoon watch after an emotional neighborhood meeting drew 40 people. "They're urban raccoons, and they're not afraid."

Tony Benjamins, whose family lost two cats, said he got a big dog a German Shepherd-Rottweiler mix— to keep the raccoons away.

One goal of the patrol is to get residents to stop feeding raccoons and to keep pets and pet food indoors.

Lisann Rolle said she began carrying an iron pipe when she goes outside at night after being bitten by raccoons when she tried to pull three of them off her cat Lucy. She obtained rabies shots afterward as a precaution.

"I was watching her like a hawk, but she snuck out," Rolle said. "Then I heard this hideous sound — a coyote-type high pitch ... It was vicious. They were focused on ripping her apart."

The attacks have been especially shocking because raccoons came within five feet (1 1/2 meters) of cats without any problem in previous years, Benjamins said.

"We used to love the raccoons. They'd have their babies this time of year, and they were so cute. Even though we lived in the city, it was neat to have wildlife around," he said, "but this year, things changed. They went nuts."

In one case five raccoons tried to carry off a small dog, which managed to survive.

The attacks, all within a three-block area near the Garfield Nature Trail in Olympia, are highly unusual, said Sean O. Carrell, a problem wildlife coordinator with the state Department of Fish and Wildlife, adding that trappers may be summoned from the U.S.Department of Agriculture to remove problem animals.

"I've never heard a report of 10 cats being killed. It's something were going to have to monitor," Carrell said.

Meanwhile, residents have hired Tom Brown, a nuisance wildlife control operator from Rochester, Washington, to set traps, but in six weeks he has caught only one raccoon. He and Carrell said raccoons teach their young— and each other to avoid traps.

Brown said he had seen packs of raccoons this big but none so into killing.

"They are in command up there," he said.

Comic Book Pajama Party

Oh Netflix, you cock-tease.

Meet eight beautiful, intelligent and fun young women who also happen to be huge comic book fans. Gathering together one evening to talk about the comic books they love -- and hate -- these gals lounge, eat chocolate, guzzle wine and give you the low-down on manga, anime, Neil Gaiman, Marvel and DC, the universe in general and men in particular. Be a fly on the wall as these smart, savvy and outspoken chicks dish about more than just pop culture.

Yes, that's right. PG-13 wannabe soft-porn for fan boys.

Note the disgruntled customer reviews:

Comic Book Pajama Party offers a great premise; namely, girls in pajamas waxing poetic about your favorite comic books. Unfortch, the girls that are in it are completely ill-informed about everything, ranging from the plots and characters down to the very definition of what makes a comic a comic. They spend more than twenty minutes talking about anime, and even then, their conversation is trite and unentertaining. Even the attempt at titillation, a Twister game, comes off as half-hearted and lame. All in all, don't waste your time. This demands a remake.
***************************
These are women who sit around talking about comic books, like the description says. There are only two women who are even moderately attractive. This film would be rated G if it were not for the use of the F word once or twice (Maybe). They don't reveal anything new about comic books, or anime, which they spend a lot of time talking about. They are not smart and savvy as the description says. As a comic book fan, I think this was incredibly boring. I would rather watch the scene in "Stand By Me" when they talk about who can beat who up, Superman, Hulk, etc. Better comic book films are Comic Book Villains and Unbreakable. THIS is not a fanboy movie. Skip this, for your own sake.

So you heard it hear at the Conspiracy first: Unbreakable was a better movie than Comic Book Pajama Party. (In spite of the fact that Unbreakable didn't have a twister scene- something that could have really made a difference in the Oscar race.)

I should also mention that my former roommate Mebbie is in town for the week and we plan to spend lots of time in pajamas reading comics, and even talking about them. You could even call it a party if that is what it takes. RAWWWWWR boys, RAAAWWWWWR.

good bye

Robert Baron, 1944-2006: Listeners sought out Madman Moskowitz

By BILL VIRGIN P-I REPORTER

Robert Baron, better known to radio listeners in the region as Madman Moskowitz, died Friday after a brief illness. He was 61.

For more than two decades the self-proclaimed "maniacal maestro of malodorous melodies" entertained audiences with a radio program on which he played comedy routines, musical satire, novelty tunes and songs that were intentionally or unintentionally funny, along with classic country tunes from what he called his "nostalgia bin."

Over the years his show aired on just about every country station in the market, many of them now gone. Most recently "Music With Moskowitz" aired at noon Saturdays on Everett community station KSER-FM (90.7).

In his day job Baron was a middle-school teacher in the Edmonds School District. He retired at the end of the most recent school term after 35 years teaching here and in Los Angeles.

"He was a tremendous asset to the station," said Ed Bremer, the former manager and now news and public affairs director at KSER. "His was one of our most popular shows. He just made Saturday afternoons fun. He enjoyed coming in and doing his show, and we enjoyed having him."

A native of Pasadena, Calif., Baron got an early start in entertainment as an extra in such films as "Rebel Without a Cause." His radio career started in earnest in this region in the mid-1970s at KRAB-FM, but he had stints at KMPS-FM, KRPM-FM, KKBY-FM and KYCW-AM. The Moskowitz name came from an artist's signature on a poster of a rabbit.

Continual shifts in station formats forced Baron repeatedly to seek new homes for his show. It was an effort his listeners appreciated. "People were always seeking out his show" and were constantly calling to find where they could hear it, said Becky Brenner, the program director at KMPS-FM, who worked with Baron.

In the mid-1990s "Music With Moskowitz" was the No. 1- rated program among listeners 25-to-54 in its Sunday evening slot on KRPM-FM, said Nathan Judson, who as "Nathan Detroit" served as Moskowitz's on-air sidekick and took listeners' calls.

The phone calls for song requests and votes for the show's top song mattered greatly to Baron, Judson said. "Their feedback was critical to Robert," he said. "He felt that to be disconnected from your audience is the worst thing you can do."

Baron's show was virtually the only on-air outlet for the works of legendary musical comedians such as Tom Lehrer, Stan Freberg, Allan Sherman, Spike Jones and Weird Al Yankovic. But his show also featured many local comedy songs that would otherwise have had no airing, from Stan Boreson to "Godzilla Ate Tukwila" and "The Aroma of Tacoma." All were drawn from a huge personal library of 50,000 records, 2,000 reels of tape and 2,000 CDs, all of which he referred to as his "little flat friends."

"He was just so dedicated to making sure there was an outlet for that music," Brenner said, adding that Baron did extensive research on the material "to have great stories to tell" about what he was playing.

"I just loved his passion for everything that was wacky and crazy" in music, she said.

Services will be at 10:30 a.m. Aug. 26 at Blessed Sacrament Church in Seattle. Judson and Catherine Sinclair, Baron's longtime close friend, plan a tribute on today's show at noon at KSER.

KSER's Moskowitz dies at 61

DJ Robert Baron gave offbeat music a home on the dial

By Scott Pesznecker Herald Writer

EVERETT - Robert Baron, known by many in the region as radio host Madman Moskowitz, died Friday after a sudden illness. He was 61.

Baron, who lived in Seattle's Magnolia neighborhood, entertained listeners with his shows for more than two decades. His most recent show, "Music with Moskowitz," aired from noon to 2 p.m. Saturdays on Everett public radio station KSER (90.7 FM).

His show featured a mix of comedy routines, musical parodies and songs that were "unintentionally funny," said Nathan Judson, who produced Baron's radio shows and assisted him on the air as "Nathan Detroit."

On Wednesday, Baron met with Judson at the radio station in Everett and asked him to handle Saturday's show. He was admitted into the hospital later that day.

Judson made good on his promise. Saturday's show became a tribute to Madman Moskowitz, he said.

"He will be sorely missed," Judson said. "His greatest strength was his commitment to his listeners. His show was all about them; it wasn't just something he wanted to do. It was really connected."

When Baron wasn't in the radio booth, he was often in the classroom. Baron recently retired after teaching math, journalism and English for more than 25 years at Alderwood Middle School.

"He was such a giving person," Judson said. "It was his way of trying to give the world more than he took."

Baron, who was from Pasadena, Calif., got his start in show business at a young age.

He was 10 years old when he appeared in the classic 1954 Christmas movie "White Christmas," the last child on the right listening to Bing Crosby sing near the end of the film.

His mother was a Ziegfeld Follies dancer, and he loved show tunes.

Baron carried his eclectic taste for entertainment with him to the radio booth, coworkers said.

"He was a nice guy," said Van Ramsey, who is the host of "Pull the String" on KSER. "He had a great sense of humor, and he was a fun guy to work with."

The station will air "best-of" moments of Moskowitz's shows during its next two Saturday slots, station manager Bruce Wirth said.

"He's pretty irreplaceable," he said. "It's kind of hard to imagine continuing on. He was a great asset to the station."

I feel petty, oh so petty!

So I wasn’t going to blog this because I didn’t want to appear petty, but as it turns out I totally am petty so here we go.

My mother came down from Canada and unexpectedly decided to stay with me in my tiny tiny apartment. I crashed at a friend’s place on the other side of my complex and when I arrived back at my tiny tiny apartment, my mother had rampaged through my tiny tiny monkey themed bathroom and left it a giant giant mess.

When I stared at her sputtering she explained that she needed Q-tips and rather than looking in the cabinet above the sink she decided to ransack a plastic tub that I keep for the things I rarely ever use. By ransack I mean dump on the floor and then scoop back in with limited success. Now there is yellow fuzz in there from my bathmat and the box of Q-tips she found she ripped open and left UPSIDE DOWN in the tub. The tub used to be organized with everything in its proper place. Now it looks like a sanitary napkin salad with Q-tip croutons.

She also apparently rifled through my books, my comic books and my desk.

So, Mother, let me make this clear: if you rummaged through my bed stand and found anything traumatizing, well, it serves you right.

As a final note, the trip actually went really well and I wish I could see Mother just a little bit more, but it is this kind of Bridget Jones’ Diary variety of hijinks that Mother always undertakes that makes me all twitchy and German School Mistress-y.

I defy you to tell me not to go see this:

TMNT

Oh George Allen, You're Going Down, Bitch.

The Republican Senator from Virgina has stepped in it again. First the confederate flag scandal, now the Macaque scandal (note: this is the second macaque reference in this blog). Apparently his opponent, James Webb, sent one of his staffers, SR Sidarth (an native Virginian of Indian-American descent) over to videotape Allen's campaign event.

Allen said:
"Let's give a welcome to macaca, here. Welcome to America and the real world of Virginia."

Allen said this on video. The video his opponent was making. What a moron. Webb couldn't have planned anything better than this. At least now the party knows that he is not their guy for the next presidential election.

Interestingly, Daily Kos is reporting that in spite of Allen's claims to not know what Macaque means, he is an excellent French speaker and in fact his mother is an Afrikaner who speaks fluent French. So there is no chance in hell that a rich white guy in Virginia isn’t aware that calling a dark skinned man a monkey is a sign of, let’s just say disdain. And there is no chance that he doesn’t know that macaque means monkey.

Furthermore, just because you aren't white, doesn't mean you aren't an American, you asshole.

In parting, I don't want to speak too far out of turn, but Virginia isn't the real America, much less the real world. Certainly less so if he gets elected to any other political office.

Who's excited? I'm excited!

Depp to star in Burton's 'Sweeney Todd'

Wed Aug 16, 11:25 PM ET

LOS ANGELES -

Johnny Depp is going from woozy buccaneer to murderous barber.

Depp is reuniting with director Tim Burton ("Charlie and the Chocolate Factory") to play the title role in a film adaptation of Stephen Sondheim's musical "Sweeney Todd," about a 19th-century barber seeking bloody revenge over his wrongful imprisonment.

The star of "Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest," this year's biggest hit with a domestic gross of $400 million, is expected to do his own singing, said Marvin Levy, spokesman for DreamWorks, which is co-producing "Sweeney Todd" with Warner Bros.

"Sweeney Todd" marks the sixth collaboration between Depp and Burton, who scored a blockbuster in summer 2005 with "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory," in which the actor played the reclusive candyman Willy Wonka.

Their other films together are "Tim Burton's Corpse Bride," "Edward Scissorhands," "Ed Wood" and "Sleepy Hollow."

The filmmakers plan to start shooting "Sweeney Todd" early in 2007.

Sweeney Todd is one of my favorite musicals. It reminds me of one of my fantastic family stories.
So when my family came from Ireland, they settled back East and one night my many greats great uncle went to the pub and never returned. It seems that this was an unsurprising event, as he was so well loved.... Years later they tore the pub down to build a new run for the train and the pub had some bones buried in the basement. Apparently he had got uppity and the owners off'd him and fed him to their pigs. Likely then the pigs were used to feed the other bar flies.

Now that is the circle of life.

I’ve got the world on a string….

So why is gravity such a week force, you ask. Well you smarty, string theorists believe that there may be a few kinds of strings: stings like rubber bands, strings that are attached at both ends to something else (like a slinky), and strings that are like donuts made of silly putty. Now imagine the putty donut is run over by a steam roller. It’s still a donut, but it’s flat and doesn’t really have a hole. The putty-donut is actually called a membrane or as dorks call it, a brane.

String theorists think that our universe is on a brane. If you can picture a whole bunch of branes all clustered together, like sliced bread, you can imagine that the big bang occurred when whamo! two pieces of bread bumped. This also explains gravity’s weakness… kinda.

Imagine that gravity is a rubber band style string and that electromagnetism is a string attached at both ends to a brane. The rubberband string of gravity would be free to float off- off into other slices of bread, I mean branes. Perhaps where gravity comes from is farther away (the end butt of the bread for example) and thus we have less of it by the time it reaches our slice.

So far, this is all I can figure out about String Theory. Some parts of me wish that it could be true. All the Star Trekian wonders that could arise from such a thing would be amazing. String Theory doesn’t solve for creation, however. If two branes smacked each other and the resulting force created and scattered our universe, where did the branes come from? Furthermore, if we are nothing but random miracles of science, then why is it wrong for me to kill my coworker? No, seriously, give me one good reason, because atheism is very appealing today.

Monica has all the luck

Last weekend the ‘rents were in town visiting and Mother and I decided to hit downtown for cocktails and we invited Monica to join us.

I was picking an outfit when Monica burst in all a-flutter. As Monica was getting out of her car she had been approached by a neighbor of hers. He said, “Hi, you live down the hall from me, right?” And she said she did. Then he asked if she was seeing anyone.

She said “no.”

Oh Monica, you amateur.

He then said, and I am not shitting you, “Would you like to come over and see my sword collection?”

For some reason Monica said no.

At that point she decided to head straight to my apartment. As she walked past the stairs the Sword Guy said, “You’re not going to Dan’s (our apartment manager) are you? Because that wouldn’t be good for anyone.”

She responded that she was headed for a friend’s apartment and skittered off in sheer terror.

She then spent the next 4 hours fussing over whether she should be nervous and whether her door locks are sturdy enough. I mentioned to her that men who want make outs are hardly attack you with swords. Neither are attackers likely to tell you about their sword collections. It also isn’t against the law or his lease to hit on other folks in the building (thank God!).

Honestly, I feel really bad for this guy. Obviously he had no idea how creepy his invitation sounded. I mean clearly he likes swords, so why would he think that is a weird question? It probably took him a long time to get the nerve to ask her and now he will likely continue to cower in his apartment ogling the House of Cutlery Catalogue for another sexless 40 years.

Hell, I’ll give him some credit for reworking the come up to my apartment to look at whatever line. I’ve never heard “sword collection” before. Furthermore, at least he actually owns swords. The last time I was invited to view a sword it was nestled in trousers.

Hey Losers,

Don't forget to register to vote!
Especially if you have moved.
Voting is important!
Vote absentee- It is number 8 on the form! Yay!

Hoedown

Below is a hilarious excerpt from article on how Paris Hilton had to go to the hospital when her pet kinkajou, Baby Luv, attacked her (again). Kinkajous are apparently illegal to own very nearly everywhere because they have the tendency to attack and carry a bacteria in their mouths that is apparently very nasty.


"On paper, however, Hilton and Baby Luv look like a perfect match. They're both nocturnal, they aggregate near good food sources and they tend to advertise or communicate their sexual status. However--according to Hilton--unlike the kinkajou, she is not promiscuous and isn't planning to mate anytime soon. "

Easy Like Sunday Mornin'

Yesterday someone invited me out to a tapas bar and I thought they said topless bar.

This Freudian error brought me around to the following thought:

Am I a hu-or? Well, this comes up because a work acquaintance of mine always comes over to share his lurid tales of getting tail. Minutes fly by as he details goals, strategies, etc.... At least I've stopped him from giving me the blow by blow (pun completely intended).
Now there is another young lady our age in the office, and he talks to her about baseball, not his balls and various orifices, but baseball, not bases to which he gets on ludicrously trashy bar chicks, but regular old baseball.
Why, I ask you, do I have to hear about him sliding into home and she only has to hear about last night's game?
I think he is trying to talk shop, she appears to like baseball and apparently I appear to like teabagging.
So now I have to ask myself, "Do I come off as a slut?" Because I'm not a slut-- worse yet, I fear I'm a prude. Lo, it has been many days since a man has been around. My bed is completely unchristened, so why do I have this unfortunate image?

I have no idea.

I am a mature, grown lady-type person.

Who watches adult oriented cartoons, reads adult oriented comics, and watches adult oriented puppet shows.

I'll never grow up.

Muppet creators go adult
By Paul Majendie
Thu Aug 10, 5:53 AM ET

EDINBURGH (Reuters) - The creators of The Muppets and Sesame Street are staging a rude and lewd puppet show that is strictly for adults only.

Even Miss Piggy would blush over the antics of "Jim Henson's Puppet Improv" that is spearheading a renaissance of puppet shows for grown-ups.

At this year's Edinburgh Fringe arts festival, there are more puppet shows listed for adults than for children.

"That really pleases me," said the late Jim Henson's son Brian, director of the Muppet Christmas and Treasure Island movies now reveling in the freedom of performing for adults only.

Every afternoon at the Fringe, his anarchic troupe of puppeteers do an improvisational show for kids. Every evening the air turns blue for the show that takes off into surreal flights of fancy dictated by the audience.

"It is lovely to do a show where you can go wherever your brain takes you," said Henson, winding down after a show in which the audience asked the puppeteers to play half a dozen hot dog puppets auditioning to be Ricky Martin's backup singers.

But would father have approved?

"I think he would have loved it because of how outrageous I get. My Dad really believed in community and sweetness but the other side of him was incredibly naughty.

"He always said the only reason we did this was those moments where it is like laughing in church. It becomes so infectious you cannot stop laughing."

Henson, who first performed the improvisation show in Aspen and Hollywood, would like to develop it into a TV show. Two other projects he is working on are also just for adults.

"There is something really therapeutic for us about this adult improv," he said.

Henson hailed the renaissance of puppets for grown-ups, applauding the success on stage in New York and London of "Avenue Q" and the hit movie "Team America:World Police" which satirises President George W. Bush's "war on terror."

"Avenue Q was very, very clever. They are specifically parodying Sesame Street with an adult twist. Team America is a more unique choice as they decided to do it with marionettes."

Hyundai Puppet Theatre, South Korea's answer to Henson, has also won acclaim at the Edinburgh Fringe with its production of "Puppet City."

So does Henson feel puppeteers around the world are trying to redress the balance so adults get a look in?

"Yes, absolutely," he said.

"The Americans are more action-oriented. They want to see the puppets beating each other up. British audiences are more intellectual. They like to see it sick and twisted but in an intellectual way."

Of course they are obviously more intellectual-

Yea, I'll Take the Kitten with the Machete...

So last night a gentlemen was scheduled to come by to pick up my dining room table. I had posted it on Craigslist and in 15 minutes I received like 20 emails. After I made arrangements for "Tony" to come get my table I realized I would almost certainly be raped and murdered and left in the alley or possibly a ditch.
So I invited Steve over. Steve arrived well after Tony left, but upon reflection I realize that I had invited STEVE over to protect me.
Seriously, I just don't think well under pressure.

Darth Shower Runs Amok

Some time ago I had a dripping shower. As part of the Quiana Improvement Program (QIP) I am trying to reduce my environmental footprint, so I called right away to have it taken care of. Immediately, the plumber was dispatched to my apartment and after some riggamaroll I had a working shower. I also had a giant hole in the shower wall, handily covered in black garbage-bags and duct-tape ala Darth Vader. Due my ridiculously low blood pressure, I occasionally get woozy in the shower and I was very nervous about the giant hole et al. Furthermore, as I have somewhat frequent houseguests, I wasn’t thrilled that my shower had adopted the fetish look. After two months of weekly nagging (including several assurances that it would be completed on x date and a period of three weeks of time when I wasn’t staying in the apartment) my shower wall was finally patched.
It took me over an hour to get my bathroom back in order and my shower properly cleaned. I was now doubly sweaty having returned from walking the lake then furiously scrubbing. I stripped and turned the faucet on. As it reached optimal temperature I pulled the button that turns on the shower and the entire metal spout flew with great force to the opposing side of my shower and crashed into the wall. For a split second I stood there nude and confused as water sprayed willy-nilly.
Rapture. Even though it was fixed right away, I am just waiting for the third shoe to drop.

I wholeheartedly support exporting Lindsay Lohan to Iraq.

Lindsay Wants to Entertain Troops in Iraq
TUESDAY AUGUST 08, 2006 09:00AM EST

TUESDAY AUGUST 08, 2006 10:55AM EST UPDATED

By Stephen M. Silverman

Lindsay Lohan wants visit the troops in Iraq – accompanied by New York Sen. Hillary Rodham Clinton.

"I've been trying to go to Iraq with Hillary Clinton for so long," Lohan, 20, tells Elle magazine in its September issue, after she was asked if she had any big plans for next year. "Hillary was trying to work it out, but it seemed too dangerous."

She continues, "I wanted to do what Marilyn Monroe did (during the Korean War), when she went and just set up a stage and did a concert for the troops all by herself. It's so amazing seeing that one woman just going somewhere, this beautiful sex kitten, who's basically a pinup, which is what I've always aspired to be."

(Might I add that MM was an icon- a symbol of her age. Lohan is a cautionary tale. The is nothing sex kitten-esque about coked up blow-jobs and anorexia.)

Even without Sen. Clinton, Lohan is confident she can handle an Iraq trip on her own. "I'm not afraid of going," she says. "My security guard is going to take me to a gun range when I get back to L.A., and I'm going to start taking shooting lessons."

On her desire to handle a gun, she says, "Yeah, I have a dark side. I watched all those videos on Charles Manson for a while."

Elsewhere in the Elle interview Lohan says she's never had plastic surgery ("I've never done anything") and isn't using cocaine ("I'm not. There you have it. It's not true").

But she does like to fool with the press – she was 40 minutes late to the Elle interview – and tell reporters "things that aren't true … just because it's fun." Then, too, she admits, when it comes to tabloid attention she "still sort of" loves it.

Oh sweet Lord, this girl is crazed. Traveling with Lohan is no doubt high on Clinton’s list of things to do as she ramps up for the primaries. Furthermore, LL is a personification of why militants are so eager to kill the infidels.

Giving Lindsay Lohan a gun is like giving a kitten a machete, one minute she’s rolling around on her back playing with string and the next she’s slurping up antifreeze from the garage floor.

Sneaky Geeky

Listen to this NPR story and if you can tell me why this is nerdy, you get a prize.

I got nuthin.

A neutron walks into a bar and says, "Hey, how much for a beer?" The bartender says, "For you, no charge."

God I am such a geek.

Update to Waiting with Bated Breath

So when same said pepper-spray owning close friend of mine and I ran out to her car to retrieve something from her trunk a bit ago during that horrible heatwave, guess what was in her trunk (still in the package). The car was undoubtedly at least 200 degrees....
Already #4 AND #5 of my predictions have been proven half true.

In which Q looks like a hoochie.

So apparently when I was repacking my bag to leave San Francisco I left a memento.

A pair of giant lacy striped memento.

Found by innocent Canadians.

In the guest bed.

In my defense I was trying to re-pack my suitcase on same said bed before 7 am (earlier than I get up on a work day- I might add) in order to make the train to Sacramento.
Now it just figures that the time I would pick to go visit my male friend is approximately 30 seconds after he gets New Girlfriend, and that I would make an innocent, but deviant appearing mistake. Further in my defense I only brought giant un-sexy garments because I was staying with a girlfriended fellow and my two teenaged cousins.

Now ultra awkwardly I get to pick up my Sonic Care and my giant stripy garment of shame from New Girlfriend.

Plantar facii-whatsis

So after many moons of untreated foot pain I have been diagnosed with Plantar Faciitis in my right foot only. This apparently happens when over time you develop small tears in your Plantar Fascia ligament.
Now I am being forced to wear ugly shoes, stretch my foot, not go bare-foot, ice my foot and use ibuprofen every day.
I think this will also cause obesity given that I am supposed to rest for a while and then not use my beloved paved track in order to use the much unbeloved and longer outside track at Green Lake.
Normally I would ignore medical advice, but my foot totally hurts. And after the hell that was my MRI, I have no intention of going back to the scary radiology office of doom.
Grumble snort. It just seems very unfair that my right foot is forcing my left foot to have to wear an ugly shoe.
Well I can catch up on the comics I've been missing. My increasing potbelly will support comics more securely and help me blend in at comic conventions.

The Dork Knight

So according to my dorkometer Heath Ledger’s casting as The Joker in 2008’s The Dark Knight is a big deal. As near as I can tell people are surprised that Ledger was cast due to the gay thing.
Comics have always been such a progressive form of media, so these fanboys seem quaintly small minded. Perhaps it is the issue of little boys who want to watch things blow up versus actual comic book fans.

Heath Ledger is a great actor and has the intensity to play the Joker.
Batman Begins made $481 million in profits. I think that casting Ledger was a good idea. I think a lot of people discounted him as a teenage heart-throb and now might be interested in seeing a cast of talented dramatic actors in a classic hero story (and also spandex).



Yet again, this is what Google Images gave me... so quit yer complain'n.

Arch-Nemesis rears ugly head. Twice

So in college there was this girl who I will call she-who-must-not-be-named, and she was a Jewish Princess (her phrase not mine) and was basically single white femaling my best friend. She was always there with her inexplicable possy of south asian women, making ridiculous comments and thrusting about the bedazzled contents of their designer t-shirts.
She may have been stealing my best friend’s life, but the thing that most bothered me about she-who-must-not-be-named, besides her brown-nosing, her snooty attititude, and her performative Jewishness, was her constant blathering about Alan Alda and Isreal.
I swear to God, every sentence was either “My uncle, Alan Alda…” or “This one time at our house in Isreal….” The bitch was crazy. CRAZY. She was bragging about a house in Isreal. Now don’t get me wrong, but I like my summer houses to be further from suicide bombers if at all possible. You know Nantucket, Rhode Island, anyplace not Israel. I always wondered if she was going for the “poor thing, trapped in a war zone and nobody but Alan Alda, star of the Emmy winning series MASH, understands the pain she feels as she fights for a greater understanding of her mysterious God.” Except the part where she only went to Seder when it was a combined Seder with Haverford, thus men were in attendance and was from a lovely neighborhood in Manhattan.
Having left Bryn Mawr, I thought I would be free of the her menace. But twice my week has been shattered with she-who-must-not-be-named-ness. Yesterday the indie bookstore that I frequent sent out their normal calendar. Blah blah blah famous author… blah blah local jazz trio… blah blah dorky science lecture (what I am interested in)… ALAN ALDA.
Alan Alda will be here on 9/17 to promote his new book Never Have Your Dog Stuffed. For this special event, receive two tickets to hear Alan Alda speak when you purchase your copy of the book. Tickets will be available when the book goes on sale September 14! There is no reserve seating. Tickets will secure your place in the signing line. Tickets available while supplies last.
I know that it is very sad that poor Alan Alda can’t go anyway without sharing the shame of his wife's sister’s child; but, if you had met this girl, you would understand.
And yesterday this abomination arrived in my work email:

Angela's little one has arrived!!

Hawkeye made his entrance into the world on Friday July, 28th at 10:46 am.

He weighed 9.5 lbs... Yikes!

I am told that he has dark hair with blue eyes. No pictures yet though =(

I am absolutely not shitting you. I have no idea why such intelligent, educated and generally awesome people have decided to punish an innocent baby. I think that somewhere out there she-who-must-not-be-named is twisting her mustache and cackling.

Bing Bang Shyamalama Ding Dong

Steve, Addy, and I went to see Lady in the Water at the historic Majestic Bay Theater in downtown Ballard last week.
I’ll admit we were a bit nervous. Reports from all fronts were not entirely… complimentary. However, true to my usual form, I can happily report: those idiots are… erm… idiots.

Lady in the Water was unique, visually interesting, and complexly allegorical, while retaining a simplicity that modern movies generally lack. The acting was believable and at some points quite moving. The message that everyone is unique and important in spite of their appearances was mixed throughout the film only to appear at the perfect moments.


Critics lambasted the film for Shyamalan casting himself in a Christ-like role. His acting was good and, in fact, his chemistry with the actress playing his sister was perfect. Sadly, I think that critics’ obsessions with analyzing Shyamalan got in the way of the entire theme of the movie: that even the seemingly least important person holds promise. Many people direct themselves in movies, and perhaps Shyamalan is a bit arrogant, but I don’t think that is a very unusual trait in actors or directors. He certainly did not cast himself in a staring role.












They also said the film was lazily created. I think people today have expectations for Shyamalan’s films, which do not match his vision. His famous twist endings may have become his downfall. True, I did know what would happen in Signs and The Village, but that didn’t make them bad movies. I was awfully sure that Meg Ryan wouldn’t encounter Tom Hanks in Sleepless in Seattle, only to find out that he was a gay serial killer outerspace tentacle monster. I enjoy the whimsy and creativity with which his movies are made. Furthermore, I felt that as I was making predictions about what would happen next in Lady of the Water, I was constantly being forced to revise them. I’m kind of tired of all these supermovies- so complicated and twisty. I worry that because we base so many movies on books, rather than plays, the movies become over-complex and are not easily understood. It wouldn’t be a far stretch to say we are likely over-stimulated with continuous high-pace romps and dozens of plot-twists. This was an extremely well-presented folk-tale with Aesopian overtones, unusual and a delight to see. I don’t need Lost, 24, and Alias all the time. I would rather have a good story, well done, than a hundred The Island-style movies.

The movie was visually stunning. I found the cinematography, lighting, costuming, color-choice, every piece, artful and intentional. The special effects were tasteful and well rendered.

One thing I adored in the movie was the mix of characters. Living in a building like this you have tons of different types of people. They reminded me of people that we lived near when I was young. They were funny, interesting, realistic, and better developed than most characters in movies today- in spite of being an ensemble cast. I also enjoyed seeing Six Feet Under’s Freddy Rodriguez (Frederico) in such a whimsical part. Paul Giamatti was amazing and Bryce Dallas Howard (whose name is apparently entirely constructed of unfortunate male first names) looked and acted ephemeral and every bit the fantasy creature.













The dialogue in Lady in the Water was very well-crafted, both planned but seemingly unplanned. The last line was excellent (in contrast to the last line of King Kong, which actually elicited groans from the audience).

Shyamalan was also criticized for his political commentary. I find it interesting that coming forward and saying that war is not necessarily the best thing has gained him poor scores from the very people who eat up the left-ist propaganda forwarded by blow-hards like Michael Moore (incidentally, I’m quite confused about why MM’s UofM degree makes him qualified to pretty much make up shit and call it fact and Shyamalan’s NYU degree does not entitle him to say that war is not a good thing). I think that saying that we humans are war-mongering and violent is certainly not the craziest thing I’ve heard today. If watching today’s news didn’t make you a little nervous then you need to get your head checked.

I guess my real point is that this movie had a distinctly character-driven kind of indie feel to it. If Shyamalan had made this before the Sixth Sense, he would be “the next big thing.”
If you are looking for a complex 6 course meal then this is not it. But if you are looking for the absolute best chicken pot pie you’ll ever taste, Lady in the Water is for you.





Ok, ok, there was one thing. The lingo. Narfs and Scrunts and Tartutics. This is supposed to be a Chinese bed-time story. Well, Narf (is what Pinky of “and the Brain” fame says), Scrunt (sounds like my two most used euphemisms for lady-bits blended together), and Tartutic (merely awkward) are in no way Chinese words- not even Chinese-esque words. Even if this is what the water-folk call things, the Chinese are not going to be walking around narfing their scunts… if you get my linguistic drift.