Finally saw the tediously heavy-handed Black Swan

Contrary to what I've seen discussed elsewhere, I don't think it was actually about the pursuit of perfection. Nina was nowhere near perfect, and that was clear from the beginning. Her dancing was forced and unnatural (and honestly, if Aronofsky had wanted a good ballet performance, he would have cast an actual dancer). Her personality is meek and child-like. She has a history of scratching and cutting, and she's bulimic. Neurotic does not equal perfectionist. In fact, the only evidence that she seeks perfection is that she says it -- squeaks it -- when she visits Thomas. The way she lives and behaves does not indicate any understanding of perfection, nor of what it takes to achieve it. Please, she doesn't even have the bruised, callused toes of someone who's spent any time in toe shoes. I can't believe Aronofsky neglected that detail by accident.

This movie is about manipulation, and it casts women in a harsh light to prove that point. Thomas manipulates his dancers to get a certain quality in their performances. This is legitimate, from what I've both seen and heard of directors, but his methods are unseemly. Also, I would think they'd be ineffective, as the aggressive, confrontational sexuality he tries to use on Nina seems only suited to get her defenses up even higher.

Regarding how this movie is unkind to women, it's the female characters who are, with only one exception, toxically manipulative and damaged. The mother has an unhealthy, smothering obsession; Nina is dysfunctionally neurotic; Beth is petty, jealous and self-destructive; that other dancer is just a catty bitch. Only Lily is presented as happy and functional, but she's also cast as the bad influence and the dangerous presence. Hers is the only character that I didn't find utterly annoying, cliche, terrible and overwrought; yet Mila Kunis's is the performance that everyone seems to be trashing.

We've had more than enough movies that show competitive, ambitious women in a negative light; aren't we bored with them yet? This movie is just a more artfully shot Showgirls, as far as I can tell. And not to beat a dead horse, but if you do a comparison of how ambitious women are portrayed in film versus ambitious men, you'll see there is a hugely unfair disparity.

As for the sexuality aspect, I thought that was utter bullshit, practically a red herring. Thomas equates a liberated and passionate dance performance with being sexually wild, as if there were no other ways to be free and open. As for ...Nina's masturbation scenes, I may be naive, or in some bizarre secret way frigid myself, but I can't imagine anyone so uptight and sexually repressed getting all gaspy and moany after like two seconds of touching herself. Seems to me that it would take her a bit longer to loosen up and get into it. Again, manipulative.

One question -- how the hell was Portman even *able* to get pregnant? At least she had some muscle, but still she definitely looked too thin to ovulate. Nasty.

Some things you just can't Twitter about

...even if what you want to say is perfectly expressed in under 140 characters:

"At bedtime, the still-rumpled sheets were a sweet reminder of the afternoon's indiscretion."

Oh, Captain, my Captain!

So first off, I've begun to think descriptively, to capture moments, in Twitter bites. This is sad, and really bad for my writing muscles. For example, the post above is a pale shadow of what I thought of last night, but refrained from Tweeting (thank God I still have a little bit of decorum left, and have not gone full-on We Live In Public quite yet). I can't remember the good structure that floated through my head last night, and my writing is just too rusty to come up with something equivalent or better.

Next oddness, when I decided to blog this instead of Tweet it, I autopilot logged on to Twitter anyway. Twitter has infiltrated my brain way more insidiously than I'd realized.

Thirdly, in the time I've been away, Blogger has gotten really hard to log onto! Annoying (though they do have a new "Monetize" tab that I might want to check out...)

You know what else is annoying? A clearly dominant personality who claims he wants to be dominated, but could never let go. And there's something else I'm rusty at, as well; I've totally lost the skills and was unable to keep him in line. Sigh, I've got a lot of work to do to get back on track.

PS: that link above talks about way more than just the "We Live In Public" project, so I don't want to give it short shrift. The end of empathy is something I've felt, ironically but most noticeably, since 9/11. Almost as if true feeling and connection has been replaced by the Cliff Notes version. Maybe this is another aspect of my Twitter-ready mind right now, and something else I'd like to work on more. But I think that will deserve a post all on its own. For now, let me just say that I agree with pretty much everything Jason said up there...

Holy shit holy shit

Speechless:
DFW found dead this morning

Okay, maybe a few words of babble -- It took me a full year to read Infinite Book, only because it was too heavy to bring on the subway with me. But I loved every minute of it, and still refer to it often. I once met David Foster Wallace at a book reading in Union Square. I found him kind of superior and unfriendly, but hey, he was a genius! Also, I was at the end of a very long line of fans, and the woman in front of me had, very heavy-handedly, been hitting on him, so it was understandable if he was running low on patience and wanted to get back to being a genius.

He was an author I found myself thinking of in frequent random moments. As much as I love Faulkner and Marquez, and of course Joyce, Wallace was the one who colored, informed and spoke to my actual life, instead of taking me to other places.

I am sad.

my life as a scene from "Office Space"

So, at work right now, I'm consulting on someone else's project, as I am the resident expert on a tool that they want to include in a new section. This project has a Basecamp discussion board. And our office has a project manager who tries to keep all the active projects moving along in an orderly fashion.

This morning, someone had a question for me on the group discussion. I need to get an answer elsewhere, I have already sent out an e-mail asking for the info, and now I'm waiting for a response, which I expect later today.

The project manager just came up to my desk, leaned against the wall of my cube, and asked if I'd seen the message. ("Hi, Peter. What's happening? We need to talk about your TPS reports... Did you get that memo?")

I explained to him that I did see it... ("Yeah. I got the memo.")
... and that I'd already requested the info... ("And I understand the policy.")
... and that I'm expecting an answer soon... ("And the problem is just that I forgot the one time.")
... at which point I'll post the answer to the discussion board. ("And I've already taken care of it so it's not even really a problem anymore.")

The PM then told me that he needs me to look at the question that was posted on the message board... ("Ah! Yeah. It's just we're putting new coversheets on all the TPS reports before they go out now.")
and provide an answer. ("So if you could go ahead and try to remember to do that from now on, that'd be great. All right!")

I told him again that I'm already working on an answer.
He suggested that I post on the message board that I'm working on getting an answer.
...
At which point I asked him if he'd ever seen Office Space (and the guy who sits next to me burst out laughing).

Non-compete clause

Believe this or not, as you wish, but I'm not competitive.

True, I want my credit when it's due, but I don't need to win over someone else. I usually figure that my god-given smarts, charm, grace, Amazing Rack^TM -- what have you -- should be recognized and appreciated on their own merits. If I have to self-promote, then what's the point? The game's already lost.

I also have an aversion to trying too hard that is so strong, I will sometimes overcompensate by not trying at all. For example, my writing? Please! I can't write a pitch letter to save my life, and if through some miracle I actually get an assignment despite myself, I almost never follow through and write it. Wouldn't writing something with my name splashed all over it be... overeager self-promotion? And it leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

Yes, I know this is ridiculous and self-defeating (and totally contradictory to my chosen profession). And yes, I am aware that I only act this way when I'm thinking about it. If you can get me out of my head -- acting or reacting on instinct -- I do just fine, thanks.

The corollary of this means that I have absolutely no game. Call upon me to flirt on demand, and I'll probably retreat to a corner with my knitting. Ask me to close the deal, and I'll leave for home on my own. Certainly, I'm a naturally gifted flirt and I've had (more than?) my share of hook-ups, but I can't choose to do it.

So it was with great interest that I watched a friend of mine work her game tonight. She shot the lights out!
Perhaps this requires further anthropological study . . .

Addendum: While looking for just the right hoops expression to extend my already tired metaphor, I was given the following suggestions from the guys in my office:

• move well without the ball
  
• getting some good, open looks
  
• bury the three-point shot.
  
• really dish the rock
  
• instant offense
  
• taking it to the hole
  
• great at no-look passes
  
• great with dribble penetration
  
• had the hot hand
  
• good in the clutch
  
• really score in transition ...
  
• pounding the ball inside
  (at which point we really began to notice how many hoops cliches are so double-entendre-y)
  
• dominated in the paint
  
• playing above the rim
  
• raining threes
  
• hit the money shot
  
• pulled it out in overtime
  
• a come-from-behind win
  
• nailed the buzzer beater
  
• "pulled out a come-from-behind win" = triple entendre
  
• "nailed a buzzer beater to seal a come-from-behind win" = quardruple entendre

Got more for me? Comment away, baybee!

Elvis Costello was on the lam?

I don't like how he looks with red hair, either.

The glamourous world of Cinema

From the fine folks at BANG!, our beloved British gossip feed

Sienna Miller had her private parts digitally enhanced for her new movie.
The 26-year-old actress had to have pubic hair added by computer wizard for some scenes in her new film ‘Hippie Hippie Shake’. In the movie, Sienna plays Louise, the girlfriend of publisher Richard Neville, who was heavily involved in London’s party scene during the 60s.
A studio source told Britain’s Daily Mirror newspaper: “The film is set in the swinging 60s when fashion was wild and body hair even wilder. Unfortunately, Brazilian waxes weren’t common in the 60s and Sienna’s part involved one or two nude scenes – meaning that her grooming habits were on display. A merkin [pubic wig] simply wouldn’t have done the trick, but luckily computer wizardry came to the rescue. Sienna’s private parts were enhanced, giving her a rather unruly bush. All the cast had a good giggle about it and stoical Sienna happily played along.”

Imagine having that job in digital FX. And they told you Hollywood would be glamorous and exciting!

Fishy Google ads

Where is the best chowder in Boston? Boston.com wants to help you find it, and wants your suggestions.

But Google Ads thinks you might actually be looking for something else...


Oh, those wags in Mountain View. Who knew their content matching was so sensitive to subtleties?

Those Brits sure know their bait and tackle, don't they, Becks?

From BANG!, our British gossip feed

David Beckham was left with red hot genitals because of a faulty car heater.

The English soccer star ran into trouble when the heated seats of his 4x4 car malfunctioned in Los Angeles. The Los Angeles Galaxy player was driving when the setting jammed on heat, forcing him to pull over and find something to cushion his scorched manhood.

An onlooker told Britain’s Daily Star newspaper: “One minute he was tearing across Los Angeles, the next, he was rolling down his windows, panting and staring down at his crotch in horror. There were lots of fans and paparazzi following him, making it even more difficult for him to sort out his boiling bits. He was gutted to be caught cushioning his seat from the hot leather.”

David recently showed the world his seemingly impressive tackle in a series of new adverts for Emporio Armani. The 33-year-old sports superstar models the fashion house’s autumn and winter 2009 underwear collection.

Meanwhile, Will Smith revealed at the premiere of his latest film ‘Hancock’ last night (18.06.08) that David is going to give him soccer lessons. Smith said: “David Beckham is one of the best soccer players in the world. I begged him to teach me how to play and he promises he will. I can't wait.”

Sorry, I just could not resist

For the record, I heart Dana Vachon

I don't care what you think.

Alas, while reading the Gawkers as they mock my darling, I gained a new insight:

"A Field Guide to Wall Street Men.

'Pink Shirt Guy' is from Connecticut or Westchester. Secretly wants to sleep with his mother. Went to some prep school you've never heard of and is in banking because of his insecurities.

'Blue Shirt Guy' is from Long Island or New Jersey. Secretly wants to sleep with his sister. Went to public school and is in banking because of his insecurities.

Both are total douchebags."

I never realized before that the suburban New York class wars are oriented on a North-South versus East-West axis. Me being from New England, I am honorary North, pink-shirt team. Excellent!

Lost children

The other night I went looking for my beloved box set of Sports Night, to introduce some poor deprived soul who'd never watched its brilliance before.

It was gone. In its place, I found a box set of Season One of Angel, not mine.

Did we trade? Or maybe it wasn't an even trade; maybe one person has my Sports Night, and I have someone else's Angel. Honestly, I have no recollection of any of the borrowing. Considering I've had Children of Men out from Netflix since May 2007, my DVD amnesia is neither surprising nor unprecedented.

It is unfortunate, however, so please check your collections and let me know. Let's get all the DVDs back to their proper homes.

We love you Henry Santoro!

This morning, driving in my car, I turn on the radio. I'm listening to WFNX, my favorite radio station, which I've listened to since 1985, which no other station in any city has ever been able to replace in my heart. Trust me, the New York years had no frequency; they were dry indeed.

As most radio stations are wont to do, 'FNX changes their format occasionally, especially during the morning drive. I've been slow to warm up to their latest effort, the Sandbox, but it has one saving grace that has kept me listening for the past few months.

Henry Santoro.

God I love Henry. Maybe it's because I'm so old, and I just don't relate to these kids today, with their lip piercings and their slacking and... okay, if you've ever read this blog you know THAT'S not true. But still, I love Henry. He is a gentleman, perceptive and erudite, an excellent speaker with a quick wit who elevates the broadcast every morning.

So imagine my shock this morning, when a few minutes after I turned on the station, I heard Hank suddenly announce that this would be his last news update for the station. The Sandbox kids sounded shocked and confused, but they sound like that every morning.

I suspected it was a prank, but called the station anyway, where an overwhelmed intern told me that the studio was empty because everyone had run after Henry to try to talk him down. After about 10 minutes of commercials and station IDs, most of the DJs returned to air, minus Henry and one person who was talking to him. They assured us that he was still in the building, and continued the broadcast as best as they could.

By the time I got to the office and had to stop listening, there had been no more news. This link is all the info I could find on the interwebs. No one at the news organization where I work knew anything about it. If you know more, please comment here!

Henry is a Boston institution and a legend of both the Boston music and broadcasting scenes. Please support Henry, send him your love, and get him back on the air!

UPDATE: I just listened to an audio link (also linked above) that I picked up from Ken Jenning's website forums. As I said earlier, I tuned on the radio just in time to hear him quit and leave the studio. Now, having listened to the whole show and also read Jennings' forums, I have a few fresh thoughts:

1. First of all, just to clarify, I have no comment on C. Marks and what he says about Jennings and his fans. I had no idea why Henry stormed out, I just want him to come back. I didn't even know who Ken Jennings was. Though this guy Isaac from the forums does seem to be a known troublemaker, and the Sandbox guys did refer to a person, in the singular, who was calling repeatedly to complain to the station.

2. I know the management at FNX has a bad rep, so I kind of figured that this was about the folks upstairs not backing him up when people called in to complain. That said, now that I've listened to the whole thing, it still sounds like a stunt to me. I notice that they keep mentioning Henry's 25 years of experience. Is it possible that today was Henry's 25th anniversary? Or the station's?

3. I think the comments below are a testament to how much folks love Henry. No one here questioned what happened, they only expressed support.

I know a guy who works at FNX, and have popped an e-mail asking for more deets. Maybe we'll hear the rest of the story tomorrow morning on the air?


YET ANOTHER UPDATE, a day later:
The following day, Henry was back on the air, but with no explanation of what happened. I still think it has something to do with a 25th anniversary -- but I also hope that Hank got a lovely free meal and lots of booze out of it!

Also, Ken Jennings was an incredible tool in his humorless response. Oh, no! Now they're going to gang up on me! Okay, Ken Jennings' response was no fun, is that better?

Jennifer Jennifer

Last night I finally managed to watch all of Shortbus without falling asleep. I've had it for months from Netflix (Oh, god, I just checked my queue, and apparently I've had it since 06/05/07 -- Most Expensive Rental EVER), but at least three times I fell asleep in the first ten minutes. If you've seen the first ten minutes, you know how odd this is -- or maybe how tired I am. (Should watching it with someone young enough to be my son have been awkward? Because it wasn't. Maybe I'm just ridiculous.)

Without giving away anything important of the plot, there's this domme who says her real name is Jennifer Aniston. Continuing on a theme, today this very pleasant Aniston news came over BANG, our British gossip feed:

Jennifer Aniston is dating 'Sex and the City' star Jason Lewis, it has been claimed.
The 'Friends' star saw in the New Year in Mexico's exclusive Los Cabos resort with best pal Courteney Cox and her husband David Arquette and a goateed mystery man, revealed to be model-turned-actor Jason.
A source told America's OK! magazine: "Jason flew out with Jennifer, Courteney and David on a private jet from California last week. He and Jen have been seen hugging on the beach as they enjoyed the sun together."
The 38-year-old actress and the 36-year-old model have been rumoured to be dating for weeks, but have chosen to take their relationship to the next level by starting the year together.
Jennifer briefly dated British model Paul Sculfor last year and was also rumoured to have rekindled her romance with her 'The Break-Up' co-star Vince Vaughn for a short time.
Jason - who plays Samantha's toyboy lover Smith Jerrod in the 'Sex and the City' movie - previously dated actress Rosario Dawson for two years.

This makes me very happy, because I do adore Jen, and I think she deserves to be happy with someone who makes her smile and is as pretty as she is. From all reports, Jason Lewis is an excellent boyfriend, all happy and doting and supportive and non-competitive. So I have a good feeling that this will work out for her.

Also, the timing is perfect. Everyone is getting really sick of the tedium of the Brangelina PR machine, and casting Jen as the slighted victim is getting old too. It would be so lovely to give a new spin to the story and show her all happy and unfettered for a change!

A jingly sweep of velvet

I have this amazing beaded velvet skirt that I bought online last year, and that I wear to death during the holidays. It is perfect -- strangers stop me on the street to ask about it and pay compliments. It's somehow both work-appropriate and party-riffic.

I just noticed that it's still available online, deeply discounted, and in a full range of sizes. For anyone who ever asked about it, go get it now! So cheap, so pretty, so flattering!

By the way, if you're surprised to find out that J. Peterman is more than a running Seinfeld gag, let me assure you that his clothes are top-notch. I still have the nightgown and the khaki skirt that I bought from his catalog back when I was in college.

At least *someone* understood my costume!

Gawd how much do I heart Bostonist? (even if they did mention me without linking that one time...) They said my costume idea is "so cool you must read it to believe it."
!!!!!

I'm so glad they liked the costume idea! Unfortunately, very few people at Saturday's party got it. The fact that I was oft mistaken for a mouse instead of a monkey can really only be blamed on my implementation, and my use of a grey color scheme instead of brown. But when I told people "Monkey Gone to Heaven" and was met with blank stares -- in BOSTON of all places! -- well, there's just no excuse for that.

And in case you're wondering, this was now my FOURTH mention in Bostonist! Yes, I love the attention, which only motivates me to post more and better...

This is not a monkey blog

Though you'd be forgiven for thinking so. Clearly.

Aaanyway ... after weeks without a costume idea, and hardly any thought put into it, inspiration struck last night....

Monkey Gone to Heaven!



Of course! Monkeys and the Pixies!
(for those who do not recall, or who saw me out and about but didn't get it, last year I was Un Chien Andalou ... you know, like in that other Pixies song, Debaser?

Now I'm on the hunt for monkey parts and a halo. An initial Google search yielded some cuteness:

• Coolest Homemade Monkey Costumes for cute cute monkey babies.
  
• More cuteness in thumbnails
  
• an unimaginative but complete suit

Eh, I'm still on the fence about the implementation. Tell me, dear readers, what's your preference?

1. Wings, halo, or both?
   
2. full monkey suit?
   
3. Gorilla mask?
   
4. ears and tail with normal clothes?
   
5. or just a monkey t-shirt?

Decisions, decisions!

In other monkey news, Slate Magazine has some good advice on How To Fight Off a Band of Monkeys.

Not me, of course, not the cute funny silly or even animated kind. Only the kind who are trying to kill you.

Oh, wait! I forgot to show you this! So you know about the killer monkeys already, of course. Please check out the BBC coverage.

Did you see it? The related stories?

SEE ALSO
Delhi metro in monkey business
02 Aug 06 | South Asia
Delhi monkeys face forest future
11 Oct 06 | South Asia
Nuisance monkeys could be exported
02 Sep 04 | South Asia
Monkey-catcher with a mission
14 Aug 03 | South Asia
Monkeys invade Delhi government
09 Jan 01 | South Asia
Monkey mystery baffles Delhi
17 May 01 | South Asia

What, does the BBC have a special "Monkey" feed? (Mind you, I'm not complaining. If they do I'm ALL FOR IT.) More specifically, do they have a dedicated "monkey Delhi" story feed?

Hee, GE3PO thought I just said "monkey deli". Imagine the possibilities ...

News I didn't need to know about my husband and his, um, measurements

The latest on Clooney from BANG Showbiz Media, our celebrity news feed. And I post it here in full instead of linking, because we are a family paper and probably won't be running it online:

George Clooney is using a 'Liberator Sex Ramp' to aid lovemaking after being injured in a motorbike crash.
The Hollywood heartthrob and girlfriend Sarah Larson appear to need a little extra help in the bedroom after Clooney was photographed leaving his New York townhouse carrying the purple sloped sex cushion on Wednesday (03.10.07).
A source said: "George is suffering a little from his fractured rib and Sarah has her leg in plaster because of her broken toe so they've bought something to make having sex a little more comfortable."
The Sex Ramp Sex Cushion is available on the internet for $149.00 and comes in blue, purple, red, tan and leopard print. It claims it can "elevate your lovemaking 10 to 14 inches for more options off the side of the bed and superior doggie-style position. The Sex Ramp is engineered to support two bodies in motion, it's the stabiliser that elevates Sex Ramp Sex Cushion beyond vanilla pillow status."
The 46-year-old actor and the 28-year-old cocktail waitress were injured after George's bike collided with a car in Weehawken, New Jersey, on September 21.
When the couple stepped out three days after the crash to attend the New York premiere of his new movie 'Michael Clayton' the star revealed: "We are just resting for now. You don't really want to rub or massage parts that are broken or anything!"
But if the couple do want to get out the massage oil, the Sex Ramp manufacturers boast: "Underneath, a silky liner that cools and caresses. This smooth nylon layer was created to accommodate all of your lotions, potions and gourmet notions."
When George and Sarah's injuries heal, the Sex Ramp makers advise using the cushion to make upright positions comfortable. The instructions state: "Standing is a man's 'power position' sexually, allowing for stronger thrusting, more varied strokes and greater longevity."
The purple cushion is 24 inches long, 18 inches wide and 12 inches tall and fitted neatly under George's arm as he carried it down the steps of his house.

Believe it or not, that's with some copy editing. Also, the photo was taken while he was filming a scene from his new Coen Brothers movie. So no, it was not for his personal use. Who knew British journos were so sloppy?

Warning: What's posted below is WAY FALSE

I am amazed by how incredibly confident ignorant people can be in their own "knowledge." We've all seen it parodied before in comedy, but seriously, in real life, I'm always amazed when someone passes off their opinion, or a rumor, as a fact.

I am not a lawyer, let me make that clear. But I did have to study Copyright Law when I was in Journalism school. It was a law class, taught by a law professor, using real law books in the law library at BU.

And the biggest thing I learned from this class is that most people have no fucking idea about copyright, though many think that they do. Remember when rap sampling got mainstream, and everyone said that you could legally use up to eight seconds of a work without infringing copyright? Not true. You also can't... you know what? It's complicated. Use the links above if you actually want to educate yourself. If those are too heavy, and you want a pretty good summary, check this out.

But whatever you do, please do not believe a word of what follows below, which was posted to a knitting list I subscribe to.

Copyright works this way:

* If the book is over 25 years old and/or out of print it can be xeroxed
* Books from the library are exempt because the Library is an educational institution. All educational uses of material are usually exempt. There are some exceptions to this.
* I only copy to use in a class...I teach. Perfectly legal.

Please note the authoritative tone. As I said, I am constantly amazed at how ignorant some people can be of their own ignorance.

Perky

When I started at this job, I figured there would be perks. Merch sent to the office, free tickets to concerts and shows, stuff like that. But I didn't know how it would work, having never been the beneficiary of perks before.

A few weeks after I started, there was a sold-out show I wanted to see. I asked the Captain how I could get tix. He scoffed and said I had to earn my stripes before I got free stuff (he was always a little big for his britches). Then, once the editorial staff moved to the other office, the flow of goodies into our space dried up to nothing.

Well well well, now I coordinate the events calendar, so I keep getting invited to events. And last night, I finally went to one. What fun a press night is! I highly recommend you attend if you get a chance. (Even if you don't go for press night, you should still see The 39 Steps; it was great! It's headed to Broadway once the Boston run is over; consider yourself forewarned.)

The real goodies, however, are over at the paper. There's this shelf over in the newsroom where all the unwanted swag gets dumped, free for the picking. When the CDs show up, I never know what to take, because I can't tell a good CD from bad just by looking at it. And you know that the original recipient of the CDs is keeping all the good ones anyway. But last week, someone dumped a bookcase worth of books on the shelf. Books, I know from books. And the editor can read a good book, be done with it, and then share it for others. I walked away with armfuls of reading materials.

Then I worried -- is there a protocol to these giveaways that I'm not aware of? Should I have limited myself to one or two books, instead of one or two dozen? When I finished reading the first book, I brought it back to the shelf, and it was quickly snapped up. Hmmm...

Today I spied Demeter, six different bottles from their "fragrance library":
Orange Cream Pop
Baby Powder
Suntan Lotion
Pumpkin Pie
Play-Doh
Bonfire

I browsed, I sniffed, I sprayed. I was intrigued by Play-Doh, but thought it more likely that I would actually wear Suntan Lotion. And after the soul-searching dilemma of the books, I certainly didn't want to be greedy and take two.

As I sniffed Bonfire (phew!), I wondered if Haneway, or maybe Auntie Amanda, would like the Play-Doh. And then my superpower (A Line Forms Behind Me^tm) caused me trouble, as it always does... Someone came up, started sniffing, and took Play-Doh!

Doh!

She asked if it was okay, because I had been there first. But I was still trying to decide, and it seemed ridiculous to take what she wanted when I'd already had the chance.

Bonus, though, is that she took two, so then I felt it was okay to take two myself. Suntan Lotion and Baby Powder, baybee! Now I can smell clean even when I'm not!

Haneway and Manda, I'm really sorry if either of you did want the Play-Doh. I'll keep an eye out for other goodies for you in the future. Any interest in some books?

PS: Let me assure you that I would never wear this fragrance, nor this, though I am totally intrigued by them. Unfortunately, they weren't included in the press pack. Neither was the surrealist option.

Apparently I'm a New Pornographer

In the Village Voice today, they compated Pornographers albums:
"Challengers is an infinitely quieter, meeker, more nuanced and resigned piece of work, cut from the same sing-along cloth, but fashioned into a quilt as opposed to a neon hoodie—a peacefully descending Park Slope offering escape from Mass Romantic's raucous Lower East Side."

That's what I did! I went from the Lower East Side to the Slope as I aged and matured. Apparently not like wine, but rather like a pornographer. Or a hoodie.