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.

Midtown mitten mystery near midnight

Oh, my goodness!

So, if you figured out the location of my poetic mitten drop, as Manda and I did, it may have occurred to you, as it did to me, that Penn Station, where trains from Boston arrive at 10 pm, is a mere two blocks from my mitten drop.

So I got off the train, and went straight to said mitten drop. I was on the phone with B, as he was very intrigued by the mitten game and wanted a play-by-play. We wondered along the way what the "four treats" were. I mean, the Empire State building sure is lovely, and large, but I would only count it as one treat. And there were way more than four street-side food carts along the way.

I get to Tractor Feed's "college of grad school learning" and there is a woman at the desk. Something is up, for this is not the "mitts with man [Nina] know[s]". B reads me the script from the haiku, so I tell the woman, precisely:

"Nina made gray mittens
They are for glorious me
hand them over, please"

...
She stared blankly at me for a few seconds and then said, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

She looked around the lost-and-found, found nothing, and then we left a bright green post-it note for tomorrow's shift that said:
"Hello!
Maggie was here to pick up the mittens which Nina left for her. I will return and try again Saturday.
Thank you!"

Then I went to Manda's house, and was going to write Nina an e-mail, but first I saw this post.

Then I saw her Twitter that she's sending me an e-mail with new directions. But honestly, I have so many defunct e-mails associated with this blog, who knows where she's sending it. I just discovered a two-month-old e-mail from Bostonist, kindly resetting my commenting password as I requested, but then I'd never checked that account again for a reply.... Goodness.

I take full responsibility for this situation, as I decided my travel plans so late in the game. Or we could blame the multiple storms for spooking me to the weather.

PS, this really is the coolest game. Even better now for the added adventure!

Reader is my Friday Mitten Fairy

Oh. My. God. Goosebumps.

Nina has made mittens for me.

Mittens!

I am so incredibly behind on my own knitting (along with everything else in my life), I almost feel like I don't deserve them. But I have to say, it feels really nice to be on the receiving end of a homespun present! I still fondly wear the purple wrist warmers Shana made for me a few years ago.

I understand the general area where the mittens are, but I'm not too clear on the details, as I'm kind of rusty on Manhattan locales. Haneway, Manda, can you help? Maybe we can search together tomorrow?

Many many thanks from your "Grand Duchess of Boston Internet Excellence"!

PubNight: Absinthe No Longer

I promise we'll do another PN soon. Perhaps our next stop will be at Kingston or Lucca for a taste of the Green Fairy?

Thanks for the info, Bostonist!

Nostradamus: Ladies Home Journal Editor-At-Large

Aside from the massive produce (so oft repeated it seems like filler), Most of Ladies Home Journal's predictions for the 20th century did in fact come true. Some, such as two-day transatlantic travel or life expectancy of 50, were even conservative estimates.

Thanks MUG!

Ice ice baby

There was a terrible ice storm in Boston Sunday night. Yesterday, the city was a sheet of ice. Advance salting did little to help the situation.

Yesterday morning I took out the trash in my pajamas and rubber-soled loafers. I was very careful. It was very very icy, despite the salt my neighbors had already thrown. I made it out to the curb no problem, but on my return, just as I reached my front steps, I fell.

I fell like a cartoon character. My feet went straight out from under me, my body went horizontal in mid-air, and I fell parallel to the ground, hitting my entire right side all at once -- shoulder, elbow, hip and knee. My hip, being the widest part of my body, and also being exposed by the by the boxer shorts bottoms on my pjs, bore the brunt of the impact:

As bad as this looks, I was lucky. I didn't hit my head at all, nor did I put out my hand to try to stop my fall, which probably would have broken my wrist. That said, it still hurts a lot, so if you see me crying, now you know why. Be nice.

Broadway Bound

Harry Potter Has A Huge Dong

Yes.

Marrow is delish, and so is Bon Jovi

Danyelle Freeman Sucks: The Marrow Out Of Life, In General:

"And then the LORD said unto Abraham:
'Shot through the heart
And you're to blame
You give love a bad name.'"

BBC NEWS -- Curvy women may be a clever bet

Skip the diet, and bring on the brainy babies!

(oops, forgot to call the sperm bank again today. I'm a bad mom...)

Something new to expect when you're expecting

Or at least something new to hope for:
Parents, businesses experiment with child care at work.

When the time comes, I'll still try to write a book to extend my time at home. But maybe I'll be able to go back to work less painfully anyway...

What I'm doing Wednesday Night

I heart Maira Kalman, so I will go see a very funny talk at the ICA tomorrow.

OMG! Breaking monkey news!

Cloning breakthrough, icky medical-ethics-ooginess. But still, More Monkeys!

An economist solves the mysteries of dating. -- Slate Magazine

I am moderately attractive, fairly successful in my career, and absolutely no good at playing dumb. Clearly, I will never get another date.

Good thing I have a nice boyfriend, who so far seems to think I'm good enough!

Haru Hoorah!

An old fave has followed me north. Anyone want to get sushi tomorrow night?

Hell is for children, not me!

And who would have ever thought it, hmmm? Good thing my dear Reader Nina clued me in to this fun test...

The Dante's Inferno Test has sent you to the First Level of Hell - Limbo!

Your fate has been decided....
You are one of the lucky ones! Because of your virtue and beliefs, you have escaped eternal punishment. You are sent to the First Level of Hell - Limbo!

First Level of Hell - Limbo

Charon ushers you across the river Acheron, and you find yourself upon the brink of grief's abysmal valley. You are in Limbo, a place of sorrow without torment. You encounter a seven-walled castle, and within those walls you find rolling fresh meadows illuminated by the light of reason, whereabout many shades dwell. These are the virtuous pagans, the great philosophers and authors, unbaptised children, and others unfit to enter the kingdom of heaven. You share company with Caesar, Homer, Virgil, Socrates, and Aristotle. There is no punishment here, and the atmosphere is peaceful, yet sad.


Here is how you matched up against all the levels:

Level	Score
Purgatory (Repenting Believers)	High
Level 1 - Limbo (Virtuous Non-Believers)	High
Level 2 (Lustful)	High
Level 3 (Gluttonous)	Moderate
Level 4 (Prodigal and Avaricious)	Very Low
Level 5 (Wrathful and Gloomy)	Low
Level 6 - The City of Dis (Heretics)	Very Low
Level 7 (Violent)	Moderate
Level 8- the Malebolge (Fraudulent, Malicious, Panderers)	Moderate
Level 9 - Cocytus (Treacherous)	Low

Take the Dante Inferno Hell Test

A Womb with a View

A bad pun, but it's true. Here is a photo of my abdominal/pelvic area:



But Maggie, you may be wondering, where are your lady parts? Et voilá! On demand, they appear:



Please note that the uterus is nicely formed and shaped, with no adhesions, polyps, tears, dents, dings, scuffs or scratches. (Don't worry, the missing bottom of the triangle just has not yet filled with dye.) The tiny pencil line squiggles? Lovely sturdy fallopian tubes free of twists, tangles, bulges or weak spots, ending in nice big catching mitts to grab an egg or two. The fuzzy wispy stuff at the ends and drifting about the abdominal cavity a bit is contrast dye, which, having flown unimpeded through the tubes, illuminated the bits for our benefit, and having found no blockages -- YAY -- has successfully exited the subway system. Here's another peek with a bit more wispiness:



Beautiful and perfect, a textbook example, in prime condition (though who knew an empty womb was so small?). Seems a shame to waste it, right? I agree!

I return to the smiling German Ob/Gyn (I have yet to settle on a blog nickname for this lovely man) tomorrow to review the results of this hysterosalpingogram, but so far, it looks like a big, fecund thumbs-up.

Prank leaves police overrun by gnomes - Boston.com

"'We need to get them out of here,' Capt. Richard Harrison said. 'Every time I leave my office they're sitting in my chair, working on my computer. I can't seem to get rid of the darn things.'"

Oh, really? I never realized how true to life those Travelocity ads are.

You can't relive the past

I was so excited. My brand-new copy of the complete season/series of My So-Called Life came tonight.

Gawd I loved that show. I was an internet activist pioneer for that show, on the listserv, lobbying against cancellation -- I even have a mix-tape "soundtrack" that someone on the list made for all of us.

I just stayed up way too late watching the first three episodes. A beautiful DVD set, gorgeously packaged (looks like a textbook, and the insert looks like a composition notebook), with just the right amount of commentary from the cast, crew and celebrity fans.

But you know what? The show's just not as good as I remember it. It's good, just not AS good...

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...

Thank God for Michael J. Fox

Ten years ago, on October 25, 1997, my beloved grandfather died. I can just now, occasionally, think of him without crying at the ache of missing him.

My grandfather had Parkinson's. He began to manifest symptoms in 1988, when this disease was woefully misunderstood and often misdiagnosed (muscle tremors, Alzheimer's), and effective treatments were not yet available (Benadryl).

In the past 20 years, diagnosis, understanding and treatment have improved exponentially. I have often said exactly what Fox talks about in this video -- "Thank God that Michael J. Fox and Muhammad Ali have Parkinson's," as their illness has raised awareness and funding for research. (Not that I would ever wish this illness on anyone, of course, but there is a silver lining to this tragedy.)



The best thing about Parkinson's is that we can cure it. Parkinson's is one of the strongest candidates for eradication with Stem Cell treatment. This is, of course, also the most frustrating thing, as stem cell research gets bogged down in political bullshit.

Parkinson's hijacks your body while leaving your mind intact. It's a prison. Please be alert to the symptoms, give what you can, and fight for stem cell research.

And give thanks to Michael J. Fox.

Headmaster

And he had a beard!

(oh, those British boarding schools....)

Friday Flicks / Jossip on last year's costume

Check it out, I had hipster street cred a whole YEAR before even Jossip did. I should have used this to my advantage more often when I was at NYU, apparently.

(Instead, I just confused people with my Halloween costume last year. Wonder if anyone will get this year's Pixies reference...)

The Talking Cats - Subtitled.

I too once had talking cats, sisters. They hit the Record button on our answering machine, and talked back and forth into it until the tape ran out....

OMG! Muppet Wiki!

Muppet Wiki? MUPPET WIKI!

Also, I realize it's almost Halloween, but I still think that the "GORED SOX" sign on the chalkboard of my local bakery was inappropriate.

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 ...

Boston Red Sox - These kids are up for watching their Sox

OMG! How cute are these kids? How sad that the game starts after their bedtime?

Also, how nice that some kids still have bed times? I seem to see kids out and about at all hours these days.

Where will you be watching the game? Don't fall asleep, now! (though honestly, how could you!)

International Economics

The Imaginary Socialite "thought Chanel bags would be cheaper in Paris.

[She] was wrong.

In fact, they’re more expensive because right now, the Euro is higher than Amy Winehouse."

venting in public, not nice of me

Sorry, just kind of at the end of my rope.

The music of your life

I am happy to note that on the day I turned Sweet Sixeen, the Number 1 song in the country was "Amanda", by the sweet sweet band Boston!

And on the day I was born? "I'll Be There" by the Jackson 5 -- because I was there!

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?

The Onion gets Yankees, loves Red Sox

The staff of The Onion must be part of Red Sox Nation. In this article, they totally capture the supercilious entitlement that we dirt dogs hate so much.

Fiction: Frank Sinatra Has A Cold - Esquire

I may have mentioned this before, but a gentle reminder never hurts. This is one of the best magazine profiles ever written.

"Pucker Up" on puckering up

Come on, baby, you have to work on your spit-swapping skills.

Breastfeeding: The Latest Refuge of Scoundrels - from The Huffington Post

Can you imagine if an employer did not allow employees to go to the bathroom? If they said, if you want to pee, then you should stay home?

Breastfeeding is a natural and vitally important function of our bodies. It's a testament to how well we are designed. And you know what else? Childbirth is nothing short of a miracle. I'm amazed almost every day that mothers are not treated like gods walking on earth.

In short, breastfeeding breaks, decent childcare at the office, and decent maternity leave. NOW, please.

(Also, no, I'm still not pregnant, if you were wondering. And I don't really want to talk about it yet. Soon.)

Why yes, it has been a long, rough week...

...thanks for asking, Fug Girls!
Also thanks for the moment of zen (though honestly I could have used some ministrations from Intern George too...

(yes, this might be a dupe, but YouTube hasn't yet posted the one with the video embedded in it, so Blogger is my backup)

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.

Hot Cup O' Monkey -- Breaking news!

Remember that awesome Hot Cup O'Monkey t-shirt on Get Fuzzy? Eagle-eyed fabulous woman Eeyorecol found an >Unofficial Monkeywhere Shop on CafePress!

Get your MonkeyWhere THERE!

Not all men are evil, you know

So here I am, looking for a guy who's good with kids, and bemoaning the fact that so few men I know are parentally minded or skilled. I never even thought about this disturbing but totally believable trend. Poor guys!

Monkey love!

The abandoned monkey who has found love with a pigeon.

Poor monkey.

OMG, Verizon, WTF?!?!

If you're wondering how I scored that sweet simian phone number -- Verizon totally owed me, and they were trying to make good.

With the boyfriend almost 3,000 miles away, clocking double-digit hours on the phone each week, the cell wasn't cutting it anymore. So in early August, after five years of wireless-only, I decided to get a land line again. I went to the Verizon website, they have an order wizard, I crossed all the Ts and dotted the Is, and I was told that I would have service set up by August 13. As part of the process, they even gave me a selection of five (totally ordinary, non-primate-themed) numbers to choose from.

The 13th came and went -- no dial tone. As my phone was about a dozen years old, I figured that was the problem, and borrowed one that my folks weren't using. No dial tone. I ordered a new one from Amazon... no dial tone! So on the 17th, I call for service, and I'm told that my line was turned on, as scheduled, on the 13th, and they'd closed the order. But they can't get through to me; when the woman in the service department calls, she gets a recording that my number is not in service. So she files a repair ticket, and assures me that the line will be working by Monday the 20th.

No dial tone. And when I call again for service, I can't access my account! After about an hour on the phone and many transfers to multiple departments, I discover that they'd changed the phone number on my account, which is why I couldn't access it anymore. They wouldn't even tell me the new number until I got escalated to a manager.

It took three weeks, a service visit to the house, a bucket truck, and several more phone calls to Verizon before I actually got a working dial tone. However, they had no problem sending me a bill, a full two weeks before my phone was actually working. After all that grief, they gave me a free month of service, and the phone number of my choice, to make up for the fiasco. Good work, I say, apology accepted.

And then...

The broken dial tone reminded me that I had no idea how to access my voice mail. It had been weeks since they'd set up my account, they sent me a bill right on schedule, but I have yet to receive some sort of welcome pack with critical info such as what number to dial to pick up my messages.

So I call AGAIN, they apologize AGAIN, and give me the set-up info. This morning, I dial in, I have one message. This message:

Good afternoon, this is Verizon with good news about your recent home voice mail order. You can begin using your home voice mail as soon as you set up your voice mailbox. You'll need your access number, which is [silence, NOT redacted, they just didn't say it]. At your earliest convenience, please call Verizon for important information about how to set up your home voicemail. The toll-free number to call, anytime day or night, is XXX-XXX-XXXX, and at the main menu, press 6.

It is Verizon's goal to provide you with outstanding service. If we can improve our service to you in any way, please call Verizon toll-free during normal business hours [note they don't say when their business ours are] at XXX-XXX-XXXX, where a representative will be happy to help you.

OMG, Verizon, WTF?!?!

Okay, I get that the recording was meant for a person who actually answered the phone, which I had not.

But they're VERIZON, the phone company. You would thing that they could have set up their automated message system to not leave a message on voice mail when calling about setting up voice mail, and instead trigger a command to either:
a. call back later,
or
b. call my alternate (cell phone) number, which they have asked me for multiple times and should have on record with my account.

Regardless, they have given me the best phone number ever, so I guess I'll forgive them this one more time. Sigh.

We Love Bostonist!

This week, Bostonist launched a new feature about local bloggers. And guess who was the very second item of the very first edition of Bostonist: Series of Tubes? You betcha, my monkeys! (good thing I didn't actually post that new simian-themed phone number. . .

monkey museum - we make monkeys out of people

If you know me, or even if you've just been reading this blog fairly regularly, you know I have a thing about monkeys. Mind you, not the actual animals so much -- I don't go to the monkey house at the zoo (I don't really go to the zoo much, ever since I saw two rhinos going at it).

No, I like the idea of monkeys. Even the word is fun. Monkey, say it. Monkey. And apparently I am a comedic genius in good company: "Samberg cameos in the video dressed as a Viking. Why? Because he thinks Vikings are funny. Also monkeys. He’s a big fan of monkeys."

So let's be clear: iconic monkeys are cute, real monkeys throw poop. Actually, it's all funny.

I have become such a monkey maven that now everyone sends me their monkey mischief. It's good to have a catch-phrase, a brand, a theme. I love it -- so much better than getting cat-themed gifts, as if I'm a crazy cat-lady just because I adopted Siena. (No, clearly I am a crazy monkey-lady!)

Lately there's been a monkey zeitgeist, possibly kicked into high gear when I acquired a simian-themed phone number this week. Muffy let me know that Get Fuzzy has been exploring monkey branding for two weeks now.

Obviously, Monkeys Make People Smile^TM. And the folks at the Monkey Museum know it!
monkey museum - we make monkeys out of people

Thanks, Auntie Amanda, for making my day a little more monkey-licious. If I didn't still have all those Boston-themed cards that I never sent out last Christmas, I might have a set printed up for this year. Instead, I might just have to commission some art!

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.

My last days of disco

Y recently asked me if I'd ever gone to Twilo during my crazy New York club days, before I became an old boring suburban lady. It got me thinking back on those days a bit, which perhaps I never talked about much here.

There was one night that the Cokehead Alcoholic took me to either Twilo or Tunnel, which were near each other on West 27th Street in Chelsea, so I honestly can't remember which one it was. It was fun, but it was also kind of strange for me, because I was more used to the fetish/goth scene of the meatpacking district, which was a much different kind of club scene. The clubs I most often went to, Mother and True were smaller, with a tight community of regular attendees. They definitely did not have a metal detector or pat-down at the door, like Twilo/Tunnel did.

Anyway, the night we went to the T club in Chelsea (whichever one it was) we were dressed in Edwardian fetish/goth attire, having stopped at Hellfire first (an underground sex club in the meatpacking district that was closed down when they built the hotels and gentrified the place). All our velvet and corsetry didn't exactly fit in with the ecstasy-fueled club-kid vibe of the place, so we did get searched upon entry, which was strange. Lots of raver kids, lots of drugs, we didn't stay very long. But I did think that, had I gone with someone else, and were I dressed appropriately and in a different mindset, it would have probably been fun. Sadly, I never made it back to check it out again before it closed.

I'd clubbed in Boston, LA, DC, Spain and Italy before I moved to New York, so I had a pretty good sample for comparison, and I think I caught the New York scene at a perfect moment. Before I got there things were nuts, with Michael Alig killing his drug dealer and club kids appearing on Oprah. By the time I got there, things had mellowed a bit so that it was a nice creative community without too much evil craziness.

To be fair, I didn't just sit on a balcony and watch, I threw myself into it pretty deep, so maybe I had a better experience because of that. I was friends with organizers, I danced in a cage (god I wish I'd saved that picture; they used it for promotion), I worked the door and decided who could and could not come in. I was going out four nights a week, doormen recognized me and I rarely paid to get in. I was fully invested, until I retired from the scene. (And it took a few tries, like Michael Jordan, before I really did retire.)

A few years later, clubs started to fall prey to the triple-whammy of Giuliani's quality-of-life/cabaret law crackdown; the inflated rents of the real estate boom; and the sobering climate of post-9/11 New York. Most of the clubs and parties I went to closed down around 2000-2001, and were replaced by gentrification and high-priced bottle service.

Which is now itself dying, so maybe we're on the edge of another golden age of clubbing. These things do tend to come in cycles. Of course, I'm also pretty old now, so maybe my opinion is for shit.

The Oracle of Starbucks

Dammit, I don't even drink Starbucks! So instead, I plugged my regular Dunkin' order into the The Oracle of Starbucks, and yet it had me pegged:

Drink: medium cinnamon iced latter, skim, no sugar
Personality type: High Maintenance

You pride yourself on being assertive and direct; everyone else thinks you're bossy and arrogant. You're constantly running your mouth about topics that only you would find interesting. Your capacity for wasting other people's time is limitless. Your friends find you intolerable, that's why they're plotting to kill you.

Also drinks: Water. Bottled, chilled, with four ice cubes, a twist of lemon, in a crystal glass.

Can also be found at: Trendy martini bars

Like I said, it was spot-on (except for the part about ice cubes and crystal for my water, but whatever...)

So then, I figured "no sugar" was maybe a bit too fussy, since that could be assumed, so I took that out and bowed once again to the oracle:

Drink: Medium cinnamon iced latte, skim
Personality type: Fat

You're always worrying about your weight. That's because you're fat. You're constantly whining about problems that are your own fault. You are a total pain in the ass.

Also drinks: Diet RC Cola
Can also be found: On Jerry Springer

See, again, I have to admit that's kinda true (aside from the Jerry Springer appearances).

Roving Puppet Comedy in Cambridge!!!!!!

Ordinarily, if you don't have plans to come to PubNight, then I would tell you that you are an idiot of the first order, because PubNight is excellent.

HOWEVER....

Tonight, I'm really wishing PubNight had not chosen this week to boldly cross the river into Brookline, and instead we'd stuck to our cozy Cambridge home base. Because tonight, Inman Square is Where the Wild Things Are, and by wild things I mean Muppets, Bowie, free Popcorn, a very young Jennifer Connelly, and ROVING PUPPET COMEDY.

Sorry, I need to stop yelling and calm down.

Ahem.

Wait, wait, hold the phone (oh, yeah, if you've been trying to reach me, the cell is dead, the cell charger is in Vancouver, and the new land line isn't playing nice quite yet. Try not to miss me too much, or call my roommate or my office if it's dire).

ANYway, that Roving Puppet Comedy? They will be performing...
(deep calming breath)
Law and PUPPET!

Kalimera, I know you don't want to miss that one, get yourself over there! (you weren't going to cross the raging scary river for PN anyway, right?)

Ah, bellissime

Me and Sofia, we Italian women are so hot.

Fine fine, you were right

I'm not pregnant.

Shut up.

In other news -- Lollapalooza this weekend! Party on! Unfettered! Free! Crazy!

Rubbing Bacon Salt Into a Wound

Okay, not bad, actually, but the best tile I could come up with. So my boyfriend has a write-up in Seattlist: Seattlest: Bacon Salt: Food of the Gods, or Actually a God?

I'm not so thrilled with the offer of a public blowjob, or the sacreligious title (that he didn't write anyway), but aside from that, I'm pretty proud of him!

Whiskey Dick

Auntie Amanda saw this and thought of me. Isn't she the sweetest?

(yes, yes she is, in case you were stumped...)

The semicolon

Grammar is sexy.

I'll stick with Siena, thanks

She might try to steal my ham or bite my feet, but at least her nuzzles and purrs are sincere.

And A has been totally smitten with her since he moved in. I think I'm going to have to give him visitation rights, and I don't think an animatronic is going to cut it.

Update: I wonder if Siena will be my fluffy kitty reaper like Oscar. So purry, so compassionate. But who will sit with Oscar in *his* final hour?

Hipsterotica

Oh, my god, I have to go home and beat off now.

Or is "rub one out" a more hipster-appropriate term? Suggestions welcome.

Yet another Somerville - Wesleyan connection

For years Wesleyan University, and specifically Alpha Delt, has been taking over Somerville. Well, now Somerville is fighting back, doing some colonizing of our own. Josh Michtom of Somerville Madonna fame is heading to CT, where his wife has a new job at Wes.

Soundtrack to Jordan

And with one perfectly evoked "My So-Called Life" reference, Meredith Goldstein redeems herself in my eyes.

Cosmo Sutra: sad sex tips for Cosmo Girls!

Steel yourself for non-stop laughter, read Tools Of The Trade: Gawker's Expert Assesses Cosmo's 10 Hottest Sex Tips, then thank Auntie Amanda for sending this our way.

You MUST read the comments on that entry, all 100+ of them. Here's one gem:
"Soak a necklace of doughnuts in carbonated water, then freeze them. When your partner is about to climax, rub carbonated frozen doughnuts all over his body. Then slide the necklace of frozen doughnuts up and around his privates, securing them with a hair scrunchy. The combination of sparkly carbonation, freezing cold, ice-hard dough and lacerating glaze shards will send him over the edge!"

Amazon.com guarantees your Harry Potter fix

Guaranteed Release-Date Delivery (Saturday, July 21) of "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows"!

"We will deliver Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows on its Saturday, July 21 release date to eligible customers who pre-ordered from Amazon.com and chose standard, Two-Day, or One-Day shipping when placing their order. (Amazon Prime customers will receive it on the day of release at no additional charge. Learn more about joining Amazon Prime.) If you qualified for guaranteed Release-Date Delivery, in the unlikely event that you don't receive it on Saturday, July 21, we'll refund the cost of the book." [Emphasis mine]

Okay, this is wild! I've never pre-ordered a book before; do they go this crazy for all books? Doubtful, but what about all the Harry Potter books? Has anyone done this before?

There's a little bit of fine-print on that delivery guarantee, though:

"Most deliveries will be made by UPS or the U.S. Postal Service, either with your regular mail delivery or in a special, later delivery. All copies that qualified for Release-Date Delivery should be delivered by 7:00 p.m. in your time zone. If you have not yet received your copy, please wait until 7:00 p.m. on July 21 before contacting Customer Service."

First off, leave us alone until the mailman has completed his or her appointed rounds.
2. If you're one of those freaks who has to start reading as soon as legally permitted, go to one of those Midnight Potter Parties and don't order from us. We're not delivering you books on Friday with some kind of charm that makes them unopenable until the stroke of midnight on the 21st, or anything.

Amazon might be cool, but they are still Muggles in that regard.

Bostonist: Free Squishee Today. Yes. Squishee

I love me a really good, effective, funny promotional tie-in

Mantra for a recovering bitchy girlfriend

The Sweet Escape lyrics
(feat. Akon)

[Gwen]
If I could escape I would but,
First of all, let me say
I must apologize for acting stank & treating you this way
Cause I've been acting like sour milk all on the floor
It's your fault you didn't shut the refrigerator
Maybe that's the reason I've been acting so cold?

[CHORUS]
If I could escape & recreate a place that's my own world
& I could be your favourite girl (forever), Perfectly together
Tell me boy now wouldn't that be sweet? (sweet escape)
If I could be sweet, I know I've been a real bad girl (I'll try to change)
I didn't mean for you to get hurt (whatsoever)
We can make it better, Tell me boy wouldn't that be sweet? (sweet escape)

[Akon]
I want to get away, to our sweet escape
I want to get away, yeah

[Gwen]
You held me down, I'm at my lowest boiling point
Come help me out, I need to get me out of this joint
Come on let's bounce, counting on you to turn me around
Instead of clowning around, let's look for some common ground
So baby, times get a little crazy
I've been gettin' a little lazy, waitin' on you to come save me
I can see that you're angry by the way that you treat me
Hopefully you don't leave me, wanna take you with me

[CHORUS]
If I could escape & recreate a place that's my own world
& I could be your favourite girl (forever), Perfectly together
& tell me boy now wouldn't that be sweet? (sweet escape)
If I could be sweet (sorry boy)
I know I've been a real bad girl (I'll try to change)
I didn't mean for you to get hurt (whatsoever)
We can make it better
& tell me boy now wouldn't that be sweet? (sweet escape)

Woohoo, Yeehoo
Woohoo, Yeehoo (If I could escape)
Woohoo, yeehoo (If I could escape)
Woohoo, Yeehoo

Cause I've been acting like sour milk all on the floor
It's your fault you didn't shut the refrigerator
Maybe that's the reason I've been acting so cold?

[CHORUS]
If I could escape & recreate a place that's my own world
& I could be your favourite girl (forever), Perfectly together
& tell me boy now wouldn't that be sweet? (sweet escape)
If I could be sweet (sorry boy)
I know I've been a real bad girl (I'll try to change)
I didn't mean for you to get hurt (whatsoever)
We can make it better
& tell me boy now wouldn't that be sweet? (sweet escape)

McSweeney's Internet Tendency: A Letter to Optimus Prime From His GEICO Auto Insurance Agent.

"I suggest that next time you either settle things peaceably or leave your Autobot Matrix of Leadership at home so it doesn't break. GEICO does not cover Autobot Matrix of Leaderships."

Vintage morning wood

This here is a classic old story, which I recently discovered was never posted up here, even though it won me a "Best Celebrity Chef Encounter" contest. Since as many people as possible should be informed of this incident, I post it here as a warning, a public service, and of course, for your amusement.

Breakfast

While at the bar in the front room of the Tribeca Tavern, I saw Mario Batali standing talking with a small group. As I rejoined my friends in the back room, I mentioned this spotting to my foodie compatriot.

"Did you talk to him?" he asked.
"No, I've heard he's kind of a jerk. Also, rumor has it that he doesn't bathe often enough, and he smells," I replied.
My friend pulled out his wallet. "I'll give you a dollar if you go sniff him."
Since Batali was standing near the top of the stairs to the bathrooms, and in direct sight of my friend's table, this would be an easy task to pull off and have witnessed, so I took the dare.

As I tried to squeeze past Mario, I put my hands on his shoulders, leaned in for a sniff, and said "excuse me." Mission accomplished. But...

He took my hand and called me beautiful, and asked my name.

"Hi, I'm Ma.. actually, since you can probably pronounce it right, I'll tell you my real name: Maddalena."
"Mario," he said, still holding my hand. "So, you speak Italian?" he said, in Italian.
In better Italian than his, I explained that my parents were born there and we go back almost every year. He cut me off, in English.
"You were headed to the bathroom. Go do what you have to do and then come back and talk to me." He finally let go of my hand.

When I came back upstairs, he was talking to another young brunette. She slipped off (relieved?) as he turned his attention back to me.
Now, Batali the man may be a smelly philanderer, but Batali the chef has some fine restaurants that I love. At the time, Otto was still serving breakfast, and I used to go every Friday. A really great guy named Dennis worked that shift, so I decided to take the opportunity to praise Dennis to his boss.

"Oh, yes, Dennis is a very important member of my team. But let's talk about us." He leaned in a bit more.

"Excuse me?"

"Well, now that I know you like my breakfast, we just have to decide when you and I are going to . . . make love."

I suppressed a laugh at this incredibly cheesy and out of the blue pick up line, and considered reminding him that he was wearing a wedding band, and had named pizzas after his kids. Instead, I decided to laugh it off.

"After breakfast sometime, apparently." I shrugged.

"That's good, since morning wood is the hardest, after all. Especially mine, as you'll see."

!!!
I couldn't take any more. "I'm sorry, I really should be getting back to my friends," I said, tears of laughter forming. I pulled away and rushed to the back room.

"So, did he smell?" my friend asked, a dollar in his hand.

"How much will you pay me for getting him to offer to show me his 'morning wood'?" I asked.

Speechless, he just pulled out his wallet and started counting off bills.

John Legend is not exactly safe for work

Dude, if you're on stage, and not at a sex show, can't you control that action?

Mmm, bacon

And I quote G3po: "Bacon can't hurt people; it's what angels eat."

Delectable Lucca | The New York Times

My parents are about to come back from Delectable Lucca. I'm not ready to go back yet, after my cousin died last year, but I'm really missing it.

While I was there last year for the funeral, I went to La Mora, and it was transcendent. I took copious notes, hoping to pitch a story. But on the day I came back, this story had just run in the Times, so, not so much for the story pitching.

By the way, it's all lies. Lucca is a terrible terrible town, do not go there to visit under any circumstances. Stick to the tried and true Siena and Florence, you know you'll be happier somewhere else....
;)

In other news, anyone have any good ideas on how I can get me a gig that will let me split my time 50/50 between Lucca and Somerville?

"Of Keys and Monkeys"? Excellent!

Best Bets Daily - Monkey Key Caps

Random Thoughts

Sigh. Whenever I get out of the bogging groove, you all lose so many pearls of my wisdom that scatter to be forever lost in the neighbor's back yard, or wherever the grass happens to be. So some thoughts without artistry or wisdom:

1. Reading Dana Vachon's novel; it is lovely and I can't put it down.

2. Had another dream in the half-sleep moments in which I was in labor with the Lumberjack by my side. I've gotten him altogether out of my waking thoughts, but I'm still having babies with him in the REM stages. Not quite sure what to do about that.

3. Um, see what I mean? TOtally unfocused. Forgot it already...

Well, aren't I greedy and demanding today?

Something else I want, want, want.

Want, want, want

Oh, how I wish I had picked these up when I was down in NYC this past weekend. If anyone was looking for a gift idea for me, you could grab me a handful of these.

(I also wish I had someone to share them with, so to speak. Been thinking about the Captain again lately, not sure why though...)

Update! They give them out at my old stomping ground, Buttermilk. Dave, next time you're down there, will you please grab me a, um, fistful?

Why living in Seattle wouldn't be that bad either...

Trooper stops naked couple in SUV

Please note that Washington State does not feel that embracing while driving is, in and of itself, gross -- because they're not 4th graders up in that state house. However, drunken driving is TOTALLY gross.

Also? I'm going to Seattle in two weeks, so I'lll report back on any drunken nudity I find there.

(have you all missed me? My absence is totally legitimate, I assure you. But rather than explain myself, for now I'm just going to keep reading the paper for your benefit.)

Reason #743 why I'm proud to be from Massachusetts

Right of gays to marry set for years to come.

Leading the nation, baby.

(This is also reason #37 why I wish I were a lesbian...)

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...

Why you're still single

I have lots of guy friends who can't understand why they're still single. Why are they surrounded by all these great women, but they can't get dates? It's very hard to tell a friend you care about that they're just not boyfriend -- let alone husband -- material, but perhaps this little anecdote can help shed some light on the problem.

For reasons not crucial to this story, I am friends with a bunch of brothers of a fraternity other than my own. One of these guys, let's call him Jackie Chan, often talks about his desire to quit his job and retire early. To be fair, he's got a great job, owns his house, and in general leads a responsible life. But he's not an investing whiz, he didn't write the great American novel/screenplay, he hasn't invented the next Google. His best plan so far involves marrying a rich woman, and of course she should be gorgeous too. I don't think he's considered what he would have to offer her in return.

Well, it certainly won't be his charm or thoughtfulness. The boys are having a party in Jersey, and Jackie Chan isn't going because he doesn't have a date. I've played stunt date before at this thing, and I've been known to use a stunt date myself for other similar occasions, so last-minute, I offered my services. Anyway, it's been a few months since I've been down to New York, and I'm going to be traveling for the next few months, so a trip to see a bunch of the guys and their women would be nice.

Not gonna happen. I just got this e-mail from him:

I might have kung fu in the afternoon on Saturday....
Would you mind meeting up at the Ball?

I did mention it's somewhere in Jersey, right? Oh, also it turns out that not too many of the guys are going after all.

So I replied:

Yeah, that would actually suck unspeakably a lot. Considering that I will have just gotten in from Boston, won't have a car, won't know how to get there, and will know like 3 people there.

I think I'll skip it this year and stay safely up north. But maybe some other time, if a bunch of folks I know are going and you're once again in desperate need of a date -- desperate enough to settle for a non-supermodel who's worth a few million less than what you aspire to in your "marry rich and retire early" plan... ;)

Have fun at Kung Fu!

Guys, in case you haven't heard, there was this revolution a few decades ago. We don't need you anymore; we only associate with you because we like to. Now, to be fair, Jackie Chan and I are never going to date; we're just not those kinds of friends. But bad habits don't stay contained; they have a tendency to spill over into other situations. So if you ever expect to convince one of us to put up with your stinky feet and X-Box addiction, you'd best start practicing the little niceties on the guinea pigs you already have available.

Glass half-full

oh how I do love This American Life.

Express Yourself

I used to have one of those spandex dresses, until someone in my dorm named VA "borrowed" it and never gave it back. Which still makes me sad, because it was totally the kind of dress I would never wear again but would love to keep in my closet to pull out and show off to my daughters what crazy hot shit I used to be in college. Seriously, I wore that dress in Spain playing pool in bars, and I could have made some serious money if we were gambling -- No one could pay attention to their game.

I do have a picture somewhere, at least. I'll try to find it and post it here, so you can see my former glory.

Hair tips for girls

I'm at a party where I know no one. A college party, no less, in a neighborhood where I used to teach junior high (probably while these kids were still in elementary school, if I'm lucky). A punk rock basement band college party, and I'm wearing a velvet skirt and no leather or visible piercings. I'm just there to keep a friend company, and we're only supposed to stay for a minute.

Not really equipped for the mosh pit, I go out on the deck for some air. Damn I want a cigarette, but no way am I going to bum from these kids. I lean against the doorframe and observe.

"Excuse me, I know this is really strange to ask, but... How do you get your hair to do that? It's so gorgeous!"

Okay, I do have fabulous hair, but you wouldn't think the punk rockers would appreciate it... So I tell the pretty blond in the orange hoodie my secret for five-minute hair fabulousness:

1. Flip head over and dry as quickly as possible
2. Comb out snarls.
3. Put in a dozen velcro rollers, the kind with metal on the inside so they heat up (cheap at CVS)
4. Blast for a minute or two with the hair dryer on high heat.
5. Get in car, drive to party, remove before exiting car.

She laughs. "wow, if I'd known it was so easy... I never do anything with my hair; I still have semen in it from last nigh-- oh, did I just say too much?"

"Hey, whatever works!"

Now we've bonded. She introduces me to all her friends, and within minutes I've rubbed a few shaved heads and learned how to open a beer with a lighter. A cute guy named Bubba has his arm around my waist while I smoke a cig he bummed for me. The kids in the yard below us are wailing a hard-core a cappella version of some Journey song, and all is right with the world.

More good news for this weekend

Daily Love for April 14, 2007
Provided by Astrology.com

Daily Flirt:
Fate or free will? A sign could drive itself nuts contemplating the question too closely. It might be a crazy cocktail of both. The stars can push you in a certain direction, but only you can decide how you get there.

Daily Couples:
Draw on your deepest instincts when deciding how to surprise your partner today. The odds are good that you will come up with something nearly perfect!

Daily Singles:
Why go with the flow when you can channel some fabulous romantic energy right where you want it? You can use your bountiful charms to make sweet stuff happen now -- and you'll never know unless you try.

A tale of two streets - The Boston Globe

My office is in this area, and I agree -- Congress Street wins! The street is way more comfortable and human-scaled (at least it will be when all the construction is done), the cars don't speed down the street at highway velocity, the kids from the Children's Museum are adorable, the bars and cafes are cuter. And, though they threw someone off the roof of one of our buildings in The Departed, they're not doing that anymore, so it's much safer, too!

Today's forecast

Daily Love for April 13, 2007
Provided by Astrology.com

Daily Flirt:
Emotions can be overwhelming, but remind yourself to breathe through it and that change can -- and will -- happen. Allowing yourself to feel something in its entirety guarantees that you won't end up stuck there.
[Breathe, what? That's actually been troublesome, love-wise, of late, so good advice.]

Daily Couples:
Your romantic instincts are strong. Now's the time to find a new way to show or tell sweetie how you really feel. They will be blown away by your passionate energy.
[I think I've been pretty good lately about being honest with how I feel, and I don't know how much more I would want to blow anyone away. Blown away sounds too much like "away" for my comfort, but I'll keep trying...]

Daily Singles:
You're bewitching, beguiling and not in the least bewildered, if the stars have their say. The right thing to say, the right move to make, the right place to be -- it's all occurring to you as if by magic.
[Magic! I'm telling you, it's all going to work out. I swear.]

Sunday Times with the Lumberjack

Lumberjacks are everywhere, it's not just me.

I know, you want me to embed the video, not just link to it. But YouTube is giving me a hard time (maybe because I once worked for Viacom?).

Put your money where my mouth is

Hey there, my loving and loyal audience!

Remember when we debated whether I should go back to NPR? And you were all for it?

Remember how this brilliant artist, who should know a thing or two about culture, started getting all insistent that I get myself on the radio, or find myself a public forum in which to tell my stories? He wants me to be the next Spalding Gray, the witty, frantic voice of my generation, but without the personal neuroses, depression and suicide.

Remember that an impartial measure determined that I have a good voice for tv and radio? Because I do!

Well dig this, baby -- the time has come to put it all to the test.

The Public Radio Talent Quest!

Check out my profile, and give me suggestions on how to improve it. Then pass the link around and spread the word, and when the time comes, Vote Early and Often! 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!)

This is your song

JodiRoadie wrote a song for me! Yes, this is about George, yes, he was going to build me a house of strawberries, yes, there was a barn, but it was to be full of artichokes, not sunflowers. Hard to rhyme "Artichoke" though...

I love it!

Getting around

Christ, I just read Bostonist for all my music recommending needs. They know what I like and how to make me happy.

Globe cuts 24 newsroom jobs in buyout - The Boston Globe

I'm so sad to hear that Eileen McNamara took the buyout (god I love her, I was so happy when she won the Pulitzer). But, on the flip side, restaurant critic Alison Arnett is also leaving, which means there's hope for me yet! Wish I had some clips ready, but at the very least, there might be an opportunity for some freelance work, to get my foot in the door.

Impeach him TWICE!

Buckle on those balls....

Ramen! Ramen! Ramen!

It's not always bad to have soup on your lapel (though I'd prefer it on my cell phone).