Nesting | The Public Radio Talent Quest

The Public Radio Talent Quest!

I'm up, I'm on, I've bared one minute and 30 seconds of my soul. Have you voted yet? Left a comment? Then pass the link around and spread the word, and be sure to poke around the site. There's some pretty good clips on there to listen to! Remember, when I'm all Public Radio famous, I won't forget who helped me get there, and I'll share your stories with the world (with your permission, of course!)

Stop shedding at the source

Handy trick, if only Siena didn't run at the very sight of the vacuum cleaner. IllogicalVulcan thinks the cat's too fat to run away, but from the looks of it, I think she's enjoying it...

Music fan gets Popped; and Winchester's not that bad...

As Boston.com put it, "Shoving match disrupts opening night of Boston Pops." Apparently someone doesn't take too kindly to being asked to keep it down. Reminds me of that time I went to a movie, and the woman in the seat in front of me sat on the back of her chair, instead of the seat, just to push it down onto my knees! Why? Because the guy sitting next to me had asked her to keep it down...

Anyway, it was the Pop-Ed feature today, and the comments on the message board are hysterical (if you ignore the assholes like bakala_2000). This might be my fave, if unfair, post:

Cynthia and moi witnessed the whole shameful event. It all started when the heathen sitting in the less than desirable seat in the balcony, must have been a Yale man, accidentally spilled his glass of Dom Perignon onto the blazer of the gentleman sitting next to him. He said, "Excuse me sir", to which the gentleman with the wet blazer replied, "Sir! I demand satisfaction!" He then stood up and scolded him severely! Well, Cynthia almost fainted at the sight of such roughhewns and I summoned the chauffer and we were whisked back to Winchester. I must say it will be some time before we dare to go back to the Pops again!

Seriously -- we're not all like that in Winchester.

First We Have Brunch with our Moms, Then We Take Cambridge

Zombiewalk returns this Sunday; you could give Mom brains, brains, brains for Mother's Day... if she's into that.

And speaking of brains for bruch, I present you with Zombie Cate Blanchett and her Distressingly Bruised Bosoms.

Nicholas G. Carr: My new internet crush

Okay, so he went to Dartmouth undergrad; so no one's perfect. And Dartmouth is pretty close to Smith. But come on! So cute, so intellectual, so cutting edge. I should talk to him about what we're doing with Mobile technologies, and I'd love to debate with him how cell phones have irreversibly changed our society.

PS: OMG, he quotes my fave T.S. Eliot! Rumor has it he might be a Mormon, but I don't think I care. This man uses his brain on all that I've been musing on of late, such stuff as my career and future might be made on.

Math lessons with Abbie

Not only does Abbie have a posse, he also had a birthday. And he chose to spend it, not fucking in public (usually a very cat thing to do, but once a year he cedes it tot he humans, I guess) but rather teaching you math.

Well-trained chicks and ducks

As much as I love the Fug Girls, I'm way more concerned about his lack of a chin in this picture, than about the pastel.

Kerry Healey's no-brainer

See, whenever I feel down about beign dateless, I get another story about how dangerous dating is, and I can refocus. Now we've got GPS monitoring for batterers, which is brilliant, but God I can't believe we still need this -- and instead we need it more than ever. Sigh.

Offline

I've had two deaths in the family, I didn't get a promotion at the paper that I really wanted and was perfect for (everyone is shocked; they all thought I was a shoe-in), I've got two huge work deadlines looming over me, and a third deadline for the fraternity. So..

1. If I'm cranky, I'm sorry.

2. If I'm weepy, it's not you, it's me.

3. If I have any reason to think that a communication from you is going to be anything less than incredibly sweet and supportive and nice, I won't answer the phone/read the message/reply. Tough shit. (I've currently got two unread e-mails and a third I wish I hadn't opened. I deleted it, which was smart, because it prevents me from sending the kind of bitchy reply it deserves, but that I would later regret.)

4. If you've got your own issues/problems/fuck-ups that you want to project onto me, or dump my way, now's not the time. Sack up.

My horoscope said I can take some time out to lick my wounds, so I will. I'll be back to form next week.

Get outdoors!

Hooray, hooray, the First of May! You know what to do with this bench...