Wednesday, March 30, 2005
Friday, March 25, 2005
Schiavo Case a Chance for Journalists to Lead
Over at the Poynter Institute, Kelly McBride, the resident ethicist, has some interesting questions for us all to ponder. She's not telling us what to think, but rather how to think about it, and I appreciate that.
And by the way, it's pronounced SKYAH-voh, not SHY-voh. Please stop torturing my poor Italian ears.
And by the way, it's pronounced SKYAH-voh, not SHY-voh. Please stop torturing my poor Italian ears.
Thursday, March 24, 2005
The One Ring, the first mistake
Oh, dear God. Why on earth would anyone want a replica of the Ring of Power for a wedding band?! I've thought long and hard about the engraving (come on, sing along, you know the words):
One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them,
One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them.™
and it seems to me that this would only be appropriate for polygamous cult leaders.
(thanks to Veiled Conceit. We love you forever!)
One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them,
One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them.™
and it seems to me that this would only be appropriate for polygamous cult leaders.
(thanks to Veiled Conceit. We love you forever!)
Wednesday, March 23, 2005
Office Gossip: more affairs of the heart
What is it about love and dating today? Everything I have read and blogged about seems to have led up to what just happenned.
My office crush, my thwarted workplace affair that never really went anywhere, is now officially over. He's got a new job; his last day is Friday.
Just a week ago, we reopened that file, and though I wasn't quite planning to make it an active project again, it was there. Then yesterday, I suddenly had this urge, this need, to have a man's hands on my hips. That's all I needed, hands on hips, maybe an arm around my waist. It was an odd craving, I'll admit. And I was all set to grab a snuggle, when the rest of the world decided to join us out back for a smoke break. So my hips went unsatisfied.
Today, I hear the news not from him, but from my boss in an official announcement. Immediately, the boy and I headed out back to talk, but it was snowing, so the security guard decided to show us all the secret passages in our Byzantine building where you can grab a smoke indoors (thinking that's what we were loooking for). Abandoned corners, secret nooks. That was great of him, but then he didn't leave us, instead hung around to make small talk. As we worked our way back into the main building, the boy whispered, "Now you know all these places where you can sneak off for an office tryst," and I would have grabbed him right then and there and put one of said corners to good use... were it not for the over-attentive guard. I didn't even have a clever response.
We lingered in the hallway outside my office until one too many coworkers walked by with an insinuating comment. Tomorrow he'll be swamped with meetings, and Friday I'm off for Good Friday, and will miss the goodbye party. We'll go out to dinner next week to toast him, and I know I'll see him again after he leaves. But right now, in this moment, my heart is surprisingly achy.
Update: I'm taking Easter Monday off instad of Good Friday, so I'll be here for at least part of any send-off festivities. I'll let you know what happens.
My office crush, my thwarted workplace affair that never really went anywhere, is now officially over. He's got a new job; his last day is Friday.
Just a week ago, we reopened that file, and though I wasn't quite planning to make it an active project again, it was there. Then yesterday, I suddenly had this urge, this need, to have a man's hands on my hips. That's all I needed, hands on hips, maybe an arm around my waist. It was an odd craving, I'll admit. And I was all set to grab a snuggle, when the rest of the world decided to join us out back for a smoke break. So my hips went unsatisfied.
Today, I hear the news not from him, but from my boss in an official announcement. Immediately, the boy and I headed out back to talk, but it was snowing, so the security guard decided to show us all the secret passages in our Byzantine building where you can grab a smoke indoors (thinking that's what we were loooking for). Abandoned corners, secret nooks. That was great of him, but then he didn't leave us, instead hung around to make small talk. As we worked our way back into the main building, the boy whispered, "Now you know all these places where you can sneak off for an office tryst," and I would have grabbed him right then and there and put one of said corners to good use... were it not for the over-attentive guard. I didn't even have a clever response.
We lingered in the hallway outside my office until one too many coworkers walked by with an insinuating comment. Tomorrow he'll be swamped with meetings, and Friday I'm off for Good Friday, and will miss the goodbye party. We'll go out to dinner next week to toast him, and I know I'll see him again after he leaves. But right now, in this moment, my heart is surprisingly achy.
Update: I'm taking Easter Monday off instad of Good Friday, so I'll be here for at least part of any send-off festivities. I'll let you know what happens.
Love and the Too-Much-Information Highway
The blogosphere is a dangerous place for sweethearts, but you already knew that, right? You would never stalk a love interest online, never Google a guy you just met, right?
Eurotrash nails NY dating scene
Sometimes she's sad, but sometimes she's brilliant:
"Dating is boring and futile and all about pretending you don't want to go to bed with someone because you are a *nice* girl and not a *slut*. Or rather in New York, it's all about seeing someone once every six weeks for sex but not having to admit you're in a relationship."
That is a perfect description of my first New York dating experience, with the Idiot, also known as Roommate the First. We saw each other on occasion, but he really preferred it not to be on a weekend. The sex was phenomenal, but at least as sporadic as every six weeks. I was not to dare think that we were in a relationship, because that would be pathetic, sad, and somehow manipulative on my part.
Funny, the only time he finally admitted we were involved at all was after I started dating his roommate, the Idiot King (also known in other contexts as the cokehead alcoholic, if you're trying to keep track). At which point he got upset that the King was dating his "ex-girlfriend", and I got whiplash. Ex-what?
Nice to know that I'm not the only woman in New York who dates emotional fuck-wits.
"Dating is boring and futile and all about pretending you don't want to go to bed with someone because you are a *nice* girl and not a *slut*. Or rather in New York, it's all about seeing someone once every six weeks for sex but not having to admit you're in a relationship."
That is a perfect description of my first New York dating experience, with the Idiot, also known as Roommate the First. We saw each other on occasion, but he really preferred it not to be on a weekend. The sex was phenomenal, but at least as sporadic as every six weeks. I was not to dare think that we were in a relationship, because that would be pathetic, sad, and somehow manipulative on my part.
Funny, the only time he finally admitted we were involved at all was after I started dating his roommate, the Idiot King (also known in other contexts as the cokehead alcoholic, if you're trying to keep track). At which point he got upset that the King was dating his "ex-girlfriend", and I got whiplash. Ex-what?
Nice to know that I'm not the only woman in New York who dates emotional fuck-wits.
power to the Peeps
...and joy to the masses. We can now make our own Peeps, right at home! I need to get one of these for the egg-coloring session with the nieces on Saturday, but I'll still let them get all stale and crunchy before I eat them.
Monday, March 21, 2005
Viva La Roombalución!
Ooh, now I want a Roomba more than ever. Because if Sars thinks she has a problem with cat hair out of control in her apartment, she should walk up the hill and visit me sometime. There's a reson the monkey has her stomach shaved, and it's not fashion.
Friday, March 18, 2005
Thursday, March 17, 2005
Karma
Sometimes UserFriendly truly rocks. If you want to mete out the justice yourself to those Nigerian scam artists, try playing their own game back at them.
Senate Democrats Erect Shield to Obstruct "Nuclear Option"
Are you aware that we are on the verge of a Constitutional crisis? On the surface, what the Republicans are proposing sounds like a minor procedural point, but in reality it totally undermines the system of checks and balances that is inherant to what makes our Constitution so brilliant.
What amazes me the most is the implied arrogance. The Neo-cons want to give a type of absolute, unfettered power to the majority party. Do they assume that they will be in the majority forever more? Don't they realize that once the Dems take control once again, as always happens eventually, then they will have removed their own voice of dissent?
Oy, I hate our political climate these days. It boggles the mind, the bullshit that's going on and that we just accept like beaten-down dogs.
What amazes me the most is the implied arrogance. The Neo-cons want to give a type of absolute, unfettered power to the majority party. Do they assume that they will be in the majority forever more? Don't they realize that once the Dems take control once again, as always happens eventually, then they will have removed their own voice of dissent?
Oy, I hate our political climate these days. It boggles the mind, the bullshit that's going on and that we just accept like beaten-down dogs.
Mash it up
A Stroke of Genius is one of my favorite songs ever, and it even kinda made me a Strokes fan. Anyone else know any good mashups?
Tuesday, March 15, 2005
Ides of March
Yep, that would be today, folks, with all of its attendant foreboding. But what exactly is an Ides? Glad you asked.
A trivial matter
Last night my bar-trivia team, the Schoolhouse Rockstars, pulled off a third-place showing with a skeletal crew of pinch-hitters, and word around the Buttermilk environs is that we are a Team To Beat.
Clearly, this team still has glory writ large on its destiny.
Come back, young rockstars! Come back to the warm bosom of Trivia! Dr. Fact welcomes you with open arms.
Trivia takes a holiday in April. The next Night of Fifty Questions will be on Monday, May 9. Let's make a good showing and knock Steve Gutenburg's Bible (two-time winners) back to the Middle Ages! Cash prizes, free beer, and trivia groupies await. Mark your calendars now!
Clearly, this team still has glory writ large on its destiny.
Come back, young rockstars! Come back to the warm bosom of Trivia! Dr. Fact welcomes you with open arms.
Trivia takes a holiday in April. The next Night of Fifty Questions will be on Monday, May 9. Let's make a good showing and knock Steve Gutenburg's Bible (two-time winners) back to the Middle Ages! Cash prizes, free beer, and trivia groupies await. Mark your calendars now!
Thursday, March 10, 2005
a blanket of spring snow
This will be my third spring on Prospect Park, and this year I am determined to not miss one moment of cherry-blossom season at the Botanic Gardens. So I was thrilled to find, and bookmark, this handy Brooklyn Botanic Garden: Guide to the Cherry Tree Collection, and I'll be checking it often and spending as many afternoons as possible in my back yard (the Park itself is my front yard).
Speaking of cherry blossoms, check out this fabulous menu for a cherry-blossom dinner at the James Beard House. It's so incredibly lovely in concept, presentation, and collection of foods that I love, that I'll go alone if I have to. But it would be nice to have a dinner companion. Anyone interested?
And speaking of snowy imagery, the Ashes and Snow exhibit that just opened looks breathtaking, so I'll be trying to catch that this weekend, if I can squeeze it in between all the birthday parties.
Speaking of cherry blossoms, check out this fabulous menu for a cherry-blossom dinner at the James Beard House. It's so incredibly lovely in concept, presentation, and collection of foods that I love, that I'll go alone if I have to. But it would be nice to have a dinner companion. Anyone interested?
And speaking of snowy imagery, the Ashes and Snow exhibit that just opened looks breathtaking, so I'll be trying to catch that this weekend, if I can squeeze it in between all the birthday parties.
Tuesday, March 08, 2005
Things that go "wha..?!" in the night
Last night, still wiped out and sleep-deprived, plus beaten down by a shift at the Co-op (that used to be an uplifting event), I fell asleep on the couch. I know, I'm bad, I broke my New Year's resolution. And I was doing so well!
When I woke up at 3-ish and went to bed, Siena was poking her head through a hole in my bedroom window. The glass was cracked when I moved in, but now it had fallen out of the frame and become an actual hole. A hole with sharp edges that my beloved monkey was putting her little neck way too close to for my comfort.
I grabbed a square of cardstock out of the recycling bag and taped it over the hole, and today I talked to my landlord about it. But after finding Seece risking life and limb in pursuit of the pidgeons in the airshaft, I wasn't going to sleep any time soon.
So I decided to clean out the nightstand drawer. You know, the infamous place where you store everything you need quick access to, but you don't want out on display? Well, after Sunday morning, it was in a general state of disarray.
First odd discovery -- an entire box of condoms was missing. Last I remembered, there were at least eight in there, and on Sunday we'd been using the stash of giveaways from Valentine season which were still on my living room floor, as I am in winter Slob Mode and haven't put anything away in weeks.
Next odd discovery -- the smaller travel pack was also empty. What the hell, had I gone on some wild orgy-vacation and didn't remember it? The last trip I'd taken was to London, which was chock-full of sparks and flirtation, but devoid of any actual hanking or panking.
The oddest discovery -- a prescription bottle, with four Viagra pills in it. Although I'd forgotten that I had this, this isn't yet the odd part. Remember the cokehead alcoholic ex-boyfriend? All that substance abuse was none too good for performance, but one night he came over and displayed all the stamina of a... well, of a 24-year-old. Uncharacteristic, to say the least. When I questioned him about it, he credited my good influence towards healthy living, and a chunk of time off the sauce.
By morning he had bolted so fast, he'd left his Dopp kit hanging in my bathroom. As I packed it up for him, I noticed the little bottle from an online pharmacy shop, the kind that advertise in spam mail. Healthy living my ass! Although I'd appreciated the effects, I wasn't too thrilled with the lying, nor what it meant about the actual cleanliness (or lack thereof) of his lifestyle. After all, if he didn't even get it from his real doctor, then I wasn't the only one he was hiding something from.
So I stole a few, and stashed them in an old Allegra bottle of mine. I planned to do some experimenting with the next boyfriend and see if that Sex and the City episode was true. And then promptly forgot, of course.
Here's the thing. I had stolen six, not four. So now there's about a dozen condoms, and two Viagra pills, missing from the goody drawer. What the hell? Had someone been partying in my room while I was at work, or out of town? Or maybe the 24-year-old had found the pills, and the 90-minute feat wasn't due to his youthful stamina after all?
Jaye pointed out that the condoms had probably expired, and I had thrown them out. This sounds plausible, and even familiar, and yet so incredibly sad that I don't even want to think about it. But she was at a loss to explain the missing pills. I'd blame the Monkey, but the bottle has a child-proof cap.
After all that excitement, mystery and drama, I had to read a few chapters of Brad & Jen: The Rise and Fall of Hollywood’s Golden Couple just to put myself to sleep.
When I woke up at 3-ish and went to bed, Siena was poking her head through a hole in my bedroom window. The glass was cracked when I moved in, but now it had fallen out of the frame and become an actual hole. A hole with sharp edges that my beloved monkey was putting her little neck way too close to for my comfort.
I grabbed a square of cardstock out of the recycling bag and taped it over the hole, and today I talked to my landlord about it. But after finding Seece risking life and limb in pursuit of the pidgeons in the airshaft, I wasn't going to sleep any time soon.
So I decided to clean out the nightstand drawer. You know, the infamous place where you store everything you need quick access to, but you don't want out on display? Well, after Sunday morning, it was in a general state of disarray.
First odd discovery -- an entire box of condoms was missing. Last I remembered, there were at least eight in there, and on Sunday we'd been using the stash of giveaways from Valentine season which were still on my living room floor, as I am in winter Slob Mode and haven't put anything away in weeks.
Next odd discovery -- the smaller travel pack was also empty. What the hell, had I gone on some wild orgy-vacation and didn't remember it? The last trip I'd taken was to London, which was chock-full of sparks and flirtation, but devoid of any actual hanking or panking.
The oddest discovery -- a prescription bottle, with four Viagra pills in it. Although I'd forgotten that I had this, this isn't yet the odd part. Remember the cokehead alcoholic ex-boyfriend? All that substance abuse was none too good for performance, but one night he came over and displayed all the stamina of a... well, of a 24-year-old. Uncharacteristic, to say the least. When I questioned him about it, he credited my good influence towards healthy living, and a chunk of time off the sauce.
By morning he had bolted so fast, he'd left his Dopp kit hanging in my bathroom. As I packed it up for him, I noticed the little bottle from an online pharmacy shop, the kind that advertise in spam mail. Healthy living my ass! Although I'd appreciated the effects, I wasn't too thrilled with the lying, nor what it meant about the actual cleanliness (or lack thereof) of his lifestyle. After all, if he didn't even get it from his real doctor, then I wasn't the only one he was hiding something from.
So I stole a few, and stashed them in an old Allegra bottle of mine. I planned to do some experimenting with the next boyfriend and see if that Sex and the City episode was true. And then promptly forgot, of course.
Here's the thing. I had stolen six, not four. So now there's about a dozen condoms, and two Viagra pills, missing from the goody drawer. What the hell? Had someone been partying in my room while I was at work, or out of town? Or maybe the 24-year-old had found the pills, and the 90-minute feat wasn't due to his youthful stamina after all?
Jaye pointed out that the condoms had probably expired, and I had thrown them out. This sounds plausible, and even familiar, and yet so incredibly sad that I don't even want to think about it. But she was at a loss to explain the missing pills. I'd blame the Monkey, but the bottle has a child-proof cap.
After all that excitement, mystery and drama, I had to read a few chapters of Brad & Jen: The Rise and Fall of Hollywood’s Golden Couple just to put myself to sleep.
Monday, March 07, 2005
speaking of young love...
How do I love 24-year-olds? Let me count the ways...
--they don't care if you have a better job, make more money, have a nicer apartment then they do.
--they don't feel competitive, because they know they're not on the same playing field.
--they don't think you're old, they just think you're cool.
--they love that you can teach them things, and they're eager to learn.
--they're very respectful and attentive.
--they have so much energy and stamina.
Okay, maybe that last one isn't exactly a plus, if it means you get no sleep all night. Seriously, at 9:15 in the morning, we were still going at it, and I thought I was going to break. He let me sleep for a little while, but was up for more by ten.
Clearly I need to get back to the gym if I want to keep up. And I do, so I will.
I know you've been dying for other boy news, so here's a quick recap:
The CB was under the mistaken impression that this here blog is all about him. He must have skipped right over my obsessive posting on Deep Throat and the Gates. So I put him on a me-free diet for a while.
As for the dinner at Tenement, not so much to say. He's still drinking, still smoking, still boring and still refuses to accept any responsibility for anything. Ever. He was exactly the same as when I left him three years ago, and he thought this was a good thing. "Isn't it great, we haven't seen each other in so long, and it's like we haven't lost a day!" Um, no, that's not a good thing. Please don't call me again.
In sum, bring on the young, smart, pretty, funny, worshipful boys. (Damn I hate it when Andrew has a girlfriend!) All I need is a steady stream of younger men to keep me happy.
--they don't care if you have a better job, make more money, have a nicer apartment then they do.
--they don't feel competitive, because they know they're not on the same playing field.
--they don't think you're old, they just think you're cool.
--they love that you can teach them things, and they're eager to learn.
--they're very respectful and attentive.
--they have so much energy and stamina.
Okay, maybe that last one isn't exactly a plus, if it means you get no sleep all night. Seriously, at 9:15 in the morning, we were still going at it, and I thought I was going to break. He let me sleep for a little while, but was up for more by ten.
Clearly I need to get back to the gym if I want to keep up. And I do, so I will.
I know you've been dying for other boy news, so here's a quick recap:
The CB was under the mistaken impression that this here blog is all about him. He must have skipped right over my obsessive posting on Deep Throat and the Gates. So I put him on a me-free diet for a while.
As for the dinner at Tenement, not so much to say. He's still drinking, still smoking, still boring and still refuses to accept any responsibility for anything. Ever. He was exactly the same as when I left him three years ago, and he thought this was a good thing. "Isn't it great, we haven't seen each other in so long, and it's like we haven't lost a day!" Um, no, that's not a good thing. Please don't call me again.
In sum, bring on the young, smart, pretty, funny, worshipful boys. (Damn I hate it when Andrew has a girlfriend!) All I need is a steady stream of younger men to keep me happy.
The bipartisan romance continues
Yeah, sure, Clinton slept on the floor. Who are they kidding? We know they were all snuggled up together.
A Pint for St. Patrick
There was a time when I'd have spent St. Patrick's with my alcoholic ex-boyfriend. We first hooked up while we were plastered on St. Pat's, and after that I was always trying to keep him away from the temptations of excess.
Now that I no longer have that burden, I can drink all I want next Thursday. And since I still seem to have a thing for the nice Irish boys, as proven by this weekend's activities, I intend to be out in full force. Check out these suggestions, or give me some of your own, and let me know if you want to go out!
Now that I no longer have that burden, I can drink all I want next Thursday. And since I still seem to have a thing for the nice Irish boys, as proven by this weekend's activities, I intend to be out in full force. Check out these suggestions, or give me some of your own, and let me know if you want to go out!
Thursday, March 03, 2005
More insidious Saffron
The scandal over the doctored cover photo of Martha Stewart inNewsweek this week misses the real point. Look at those saffrom drapes she's clutching. Martha's out of prison! She went to see The Gates!
More on the Good Doctor's passing
So many stories about the details of HS Thompson's death, and none of them seem to agree. Rocky Mountain News says that his wife and kids were home with him, but in other rooms of the house, when he shot himself. The Boston Globe said he was on the phone with his wife, and shot himself in the middle of the conversation.
No butter, no lemon
You know how I love the lobster, but this is too much even for me. Sadly, he didn't survive the relocation. Looks like we should have made a vat of lobster salad after all; shame to let it go to waste.
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