Happy Birthday Joss

Joss being honored by Equality Now

Before you roll your eyes (Jay Lewis), I just want to have people see another reason why I really admire Joss Whedon. Watch the link. Even if you don't like him, you can at least hear what he stands for.

Up dawg

This one goes out to Traci and Jay. Dawg! Can you tell that I am just a little addicted to YouTube?

You Got Xerved

The intro takes a bit, but oh its worth it to see Wolverine break it down.

How can you not love Stephen Colbert?

Once again, my adoration cannot be harnessed by mere words on a blog.

Subliminal sock message.

So my mother is hilarious. The kind of hilarious without even knowing it. Not only am I stressing about finding a job, and a place to live and pack up my life in to boxes -- which is an odd concept really, she sent me a pair of socks. They are those little happy bunny socks that say " boys suck" or "you smell" or something else like that. She gave me the answer to all my problems in this pair of socks with a saccarine green cheerful bunny with a message. They say:

"Hooray for guys with money".

Thanks Mom. Thanks.

THE GEEK 100

'ToyFare' ranks the 100 moments that drove fans wild.

Some of my favorites:

68. COLOSSAL COMEBACK
Death and resurrections in comics. Yep, crappy comic writers use that crutch to hide their “skills.” But not here. Undoing one of the lamer deaths in comics, Joss Whedon gives fans one of the best images in comics in the past 10 years. When Kitty finds her long-lost love Colossus in the pages of Astonishing X-Men #5, it was a shock, a thrill and a heartache, all in one instantly classic moment. (September 2004)

61. ANGEL OF DEATH
Joss Whedon’s scrappy Buffy the Vampire Slayer revealed real bite in the second season finale when Buffy had to slay her evilized vampire lover Angel…just when he’d gotten back his soul. We don’t recall Gidget ever having this problem. (May 19, 1998)

53. HARRY PLOTTER
Remember reading Sorceror’s Stone and thinking, “Oh, very clever, Children’s Book…we totally can’t tell Snape’s the bad guy.” Then Harry pulls Quirrel’s turban off and in one disturbing-as-hell image we finally realize—this is no mere kids’ book we’re dealing with. This J.K. Rowling broad, she might go places. (September 1, 1998)

47. MAGNETO’S GREAT ESCAPE
Supervillains in film were usually of the mustache-twirling, master-plan-having variety. So when we saw Magneto in X2 leeching out the iron in a guard’s blood and using the metal to kick seven kinds of ass to break out of prison, we realized the world now knew what we always did…supervillains are some scary mothertruckers. (May 2, 2003)

32. LORD OF THE RACK
The only thing better than finally getting into the theater to see a long-ass new Lord of the Rings flick? Getting the longer-ass special edition DVDs. Hey, Hollywood: film all your movies with an extra hour. Unless they have Ben Affleck in ‘em. (November 12, 2002)

11. A LONG TIME AGO, WHEN THESE MOVIES DIDN’T SUCK...
The sparkling Lucasfilm logo, the silent fade into “Long ago, in a galaxy far, far away…”, then—waitforit, waitforit—that blaring orchestra! Those giant stylized letters! The trumpeting arrival of the text crawl! George, we might be tough on you now, but thank you. (May 25, 1977)

Sara Recommends

Peanut Butter-Jelly-Fluff Sandwiches
Those that are familiar with the fluffernutter may agree that it is a fantastic treat for your mouth, BUT, it may leave you with that awkward sticky mass in your mouth. Well, the jelly not only helps to cut that, but adds a whole new dimension to the sandwich. It is quite a treat for your mouth, and your mind thinks, how lovely it is that this simple concoction can make you so content.

Packing your books in small boxes
They are easier to lift.

Throwing crap out
Now, I will donate and salvage as much of my junk as I can, but sometimes it just needs to be recycled/thrown out. When I lived in Springfield, I had a penchant for collecting those Snapple elemental bottles. Remember those drinks: Fire, Air, Earth, Lighnting. Some of them were gag worthy – I was a strict Fire gal – but I thought the bottles were pretty. I almost packed them up. And looking back, I think they are much happier recycled. Other things I have thrown out that I thought I was going to do something with: a huge jar full of bottle caps, old clippings from magazines that had great colors in them meant for decoupage, the sides of six packs that I used to send out as postcards.

Brianna’s Asiago Ceasar Dressing
I could eat bowlfuls of grape tomatoes covered in a smattering of this dressing.

Hand and Foot
Card game that involves an insane amount of cards. Can take forever depending on how many people you have playing, but is really satisfying when you complete books and keep on going. Definite card game for power outages or cold weather.

Poem by Dana Gioia

Beware of Things in Duplicate…

Beware of things in duplicate:
a set of knives, the cufflinks in a drawer,
the dice, the pair of Queens, the eyes
of someone sitting next to you.
Attend that empty minute in the evening
when looking at the clock, you see
its hands fixed on the same hour
you noticed at your morning coffee.
These are the moments to beware
when there is nothing so familiar
or so close that it cannot betray you:
a twin, an extra key, an echo,
your own reflection in the glass.

-Dana Gioia

Poem by Jim Harrison

Mother Night

When you wake at three AM you don't think
of your age or sex and rarely your name
or the plot of your life which has never
broken itself down into logical pieces.
At three AM you have the gift of incomprehension
wherein the galaxies make more sense
than your job or the government. Jesus at the well
with Mary Magdalene is much more vivid
than your car. You can clearly see the bear
climb to heaven on a golden rope in the children's
story no one ever wrote. Your childhood horse
named June still stomps the ground for an apple.
What is morning and what if it doesn't arrive?
One morning Mother dropped an egg and asked
me if God was the same species as we are?
Smear of light at five AM. Sound of Webber's
sheep flock and sandhill cranes across the road,
burble of irrigation ditch beneath my window.
She said, "Only lunatics save newspapers
and magazines," fried me two eggs, then said,
"If you want to understand mortality look at birds."
Blue moon, two full moons this month,
which I conclude are two full moons. In what
direction do the dead fly off the earth?
Rising sun. A thousand blackbirds pronounce day.


-Jim Harrison

Pop vs. Soda

The battle wages on...


Thanks to Jay Lewis for this one.

And by the way, it's pop.

Letters

I am reading this book, Which Brings Me to You by Steve Almond and Julianna Baggott, that is hitting too close to home for me at times. Basic premise -- this man and woman meet at a wedding, and have an instant connection, but decide to write to each other and confess to each other. With each letter there is an unfolding and deeper connection to each other. It is totally voyueristic to read and thrilling.

Some passages that totally get to me:

"My own kind. I am not sure there is a name for us. I suspect we’re born this way: our hearts screwed in tight, already a little broken. We hate sentimentality and yet we are deeply sentimental. Low-grade Romantics. Tough yet susceptible. Afflicted by parking lots, empty courtyards, nostalgic pop music. When we cried for no reason as babies, just hauled off and wailed, our parents seemed to know, instinctively, that it was not diaper rash or colic. It was something deeper that they couldn’t find a comfort for, though the good ones tried mightily, shaking rattles like maniacs and singing “Happy Birthday” a little louder than called for. We weren’t morose little kids. We could really be happy.

Once there may have been an early tribe of us. We’d have done alright at cave wall art, less so at hunting. We’d have only started a war if traumatically bored. (Boredom is our most dangerous mood.) But most likely we broke up and scattered. The number one cause: over-whelming distraction.

A wedding is the worst scenario. We’re usually single—surprising, I know—and least comfortable when socially required to say Awww, about kittens, sure, or greeting cards, and, in the present case, horrible toasts where weepy accountants say things like: To the happy couple. Reach for the stars! Weddings are riddled with enforced awwwing."


And here is a part from a letter:

"I’m not sure what to tell you. This is a weirdo scenario we’ve gotten ourselves into. There’s no present-tense relationship to pad the wreckage of the past, no body language to read, no domestic clues to inspect (for me it goes: CD collection, bookshelf, refrigerator, mattress, not necessarily in that order.) no first awkward meal with friends. No first night together, no first morning, no first fight, or reconciliation. I have no idea how you spend your days, or where you live, and, most important, no clear sense of what you’d order at my favorite taqueria, or whether the menu (a field of faded Polaroids taped to the front window) would enthrall you as it does me.

What’s even weirder: I can’t bring myself to disclose this thing—whatever it is, a written audition, an extended power-flirt—to the appropriate confidants. It feels too intimate and fragile, maybe even desperate. And yet I find myself working on these letters at all hours, skipping brunches and movies. (Already I’m blowing off my friends for you.) The mail has become this major event. I count the days between letters. It’s like I am in prison…… And beneath all this fancy throat-clearing, here’s what I really want to say (as much to myself as to you): Don’t stop. I mean it, Jane. Ever famous case of love boils down to reckless honesty. That’s what’s happening here, I think. We’re both smart enough to know this might not work, probably won’t. But that the chance to tell the truth, the whole truth, the whole truth, doesn’t come along too often."


I have not even finished it, and already its picking away at the places I slapped that band aid on. I have always been a big letter writer -- I have one amazing friendship because of it. Two times other than that it was more. Neither ended well at all, but it was still thrilling. Sending the words and waiting on singing pins and needles for the response. It is the best anticipation I have ever had in my life. The one with the bookstore guy was kind of epic. Well, that is being kind of pretentious there, eh? But it was big. I mean I sent a letter to a stranger and addressed it "To the man in the jaunty cap". And it got to him. It was one of the bravest things I have ever done romantically. I had a few of those customer to cashier small talk chats, but nothing more. He was a complete stranger and would never know me if we passed on the street. Unfortunately, he was in a relationship, but he continuted to write. And it was secret and scary and felt forbidden and maybe a little dangerous. We never met, and he faded away to Rhode Island of all places, and told me we could not write again. The letters, this blind correspondence is a shield I use. I can be thrilling, honest as painfully possible, and maybe even a little beautiful with my words. In person, I fumble, and am seen for my physical presence which can block out anything that my words would have portrayed. Plus I snort when I laugh, and its kinda off putting really. Reading this novel is feeling that all over again, and I wish I had someone to write to again in a way. Be honest and ramble, and just lavish in the words and discoveries that can exist.

Reflections of the past

Can I just note a few things here?:
*Walkman, I think it was powered by water, it was that old. AND its clipped onto the belt. Whoa.
*Me, on the cusp of geekdom
*My sister, still cute. Me, so not.
*What made me have that expression?
*Sweater vests... aspirations of librarian perhaps

Dating Tip #342

Granted, I might not be the most experienced person out there when it comes to the world of dating and all the wonders it has to offer. But I do possess keen skills of observation and listening. Basically I am saying, I listen to everyone who messes up and succeeds and try my hand from there. So with that said, here is one of my tips"

#342
When online dating, do not send this as your first message:

Do you like to be orally pleasured.
Paul


This, I assure you is no joke. While it was polite of him to ask, it does seem a bit forward. Not to mention, because of the lack of an actual question mark, I am led to believe that Paul does not have "Manners" in his social tool box. If you must know, 1. I did not reply and 2. If you know me at all, you know the real answer.

Sometimes, I think I should have been a Dear Abby or something. Cross me with Abby and Jerri Blank doing advice and Dan Savage and we might have a deal.

Not to giggle like a 13 year old, but....

Check out the word of the day

I did not think about it being an actual word until I realized, oh highest honors you can receive with grades and so forth.

Back to our regularly scheduled maturity....

Good day/bad day

Good: Six Feet Under Season 5 out on DVD today
Bad: Netflix says "Short Wait". Do they know who I am? Pffft.

Good: Slept well...
Bad: Until 9... work schmork

Good: Hanging out with the Dynamic Duo tonight.
Bad: There is no bad there. Unless Torrey talks about his goiters. And then, its all over.

Good: Burt's Bees Orange Face Cleanser. Something about this reminds me of being a kid. Its bright orange, smells great, and it looks a little like marmalade when you are putting it on. It's a great tactile feeling in the morning. Plus, when my sister was little she had excema and mom would have to put cream on her, and she hated it. So my mom would joke around and be like, "Ohhhh I am putting peanut butter on you. Here is the fluffernutter!" And my sister would laugh too hard to even worry about the hating of the cream.
Bad: For a crappy complexion. I am glowing.

Poem by Alan Ziegler

Love At First Sight

It was a novelty-store and he went in just for the novelty
of it. She was in front of the counter, listening to the old
proprietor say: "I have here one of those illusion paintings,
a rare one. You either see a beautiful couple making love,
or a skull. They say this one was used by Freud himself on
his patients—if at first sight you see the couple, then you are
a lover of life and love. But if you focus on the skull first,
you're closely involved with death, and there's not much hope
for you."
With that, the proprietor unwrapped the painting. They
both hesitated, looked at the picture, then at each other. They
both saw the skull. And have been together ever since.

-Alan Ziegler

100 Best First Lines from Novels from the American Book Review

Ships at a distance have every man's wish on board. —Zora Neale Hurston, Their Eyes Were Watching God (1937)

Do you think there are any that were missed? Or any that just do not belong. Some of them I questioned, but I think that is part because I have not read the novel, so the context is lost. Like the Slaughterhouse Five first line is good, but more textured when put into context of the novel(All this happened, more or less.). Same with Morrison's Beloved first line (124 was spiteful.).

But others are just brilliant on their own (at least to me):

Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.
—Leo Tolstoy, Anna Karenina

There was a boy called Eustace Clarence Scrubb, and he almost deserved it.
—C. S. Lewis, The Voyage of the Dawn Treader

Once upon a time, there was a woman who discovered she had turned into the wrong person.
—Anne Tyler, Back When We Were Grownups

He was born with a gift of laughter and a sense that the world was mad.
—Raphael Sabatini, Scaramouche

When I finally caught up with Abraham Trahearne, he was drinking beer with an alcoholic bulldog named Fireball Roberts in a ramshackle joint just outside of Sonoma, California, drinking the heart right out of a fine spring afternoon.
—James Crumley, The Last Good Kiss

Reasons why you should hire me

*I am good at smiling.
*My mom will bake for you.
*I can make the Xena yell and weird dolphin noises.
*I know how to make animal balloons. Specifically a dog, parrot, flower and a turtle.
*Knowledge of random information
*I can knit and crochet, isn't that diverse?
*Professional clown. Auguste, but I know whiteface and hobo. Hmm, let's be impressed instead of frightened.
*I make killer milkshakes.
*Proficient in resumes.
*I know a lot of poets. Wait, don't walk away, we are cool... trust me
*Okay, I realize that saying you are cool decreases the actual amount of cool you have. And knowing is half the battle, eh?

Things that, as my friends, you need to remind me to never do again

* Go to Denny's after midnight.

* Go to Denny's and order anything involving grease. Just convince me to get ice cream.

* Go to Denny's. Ever.

Post-Oscar rant

Best Picture: Crash

I demand a recount.