Through a strange set of circumstances, I am descending into the fiery pits of the hottest hell -- Florida. I'll be back (with any luck and some SPF 30, a little less pallid) after a long weekend.
July 2004 Archives
I do apologize for the lack of posts this week, if anybody is still reading this thing (unlikely). I wrote a fairly long post this morning but ended up losing it, and I didn't have the energy to re-create it.
I've spent the last two days in Western Massachusetts for work. While it ended up being an exhausting time, we managed to wring some fun out of it. After a big formal dinner (in tone, not so much in attire) three of my favorite co-workers and I had a couple of drinks. I initially declined -- but eventually granted -- a request for my presence for still more drinks with two of them even later. Highlights included belting Journey's "Faithfully" in the bar's parking lot and getting kicked out of the Pizzeria Uno's at closing time (they even played that god-awful song "Closing Time" as a hint!).
Then I drunkenly checked into the hotel only to realize upon walking into a room that they had given me the key card to an OCCUPIED ROOM (evidence: flip-flops and a duffel bag by the door). Thank goodness whoever it was was asleep. Note to self: if sleeping naked in a hotel room, make sure the lights are out.
Thanks, Drew & Mich!
My feet are sore today...
I just thought of a term: "Laughsterbation." It's when you say or write something with the sole purpose of making yourself (and probably nobody else) laugh. Mmmm, I sure love to laughsterbate!
I know this is going to make me sound like a swimsuit calendar model or Miss USA contestant, but I really do love the sound and smell of rain hitting the pavement. Now if it would only storm...
(One of my best memories with my dad is our standing on the deck in Tennessee watching the intense southern summer thunderstorms and feeling just scared enough.)
I had a great phone conversation with my sister Kim last night. Along the way, we were talking about whether, since neither of us is religious anymore, we try to replace religion with something else. I told her that as an atheist I consciously make an effort not to replace religion with anything else and that I get uncomfortable with anything that either tries to -- or I try to make -- fill in that place in my life. Then I said, "And that's why I can't listen to the Polyphonic Spree," which she didn't initially connect with the dialogue that had preceded it. She then suggested the myriad statements to which "And that's why I can't listen to the Polyphonic Spree" would be an appropriate (or at least interesting) response. Consider:
"I had a root canal this morning...and that's why I can't listen to the Polyphonic Spree."
"911? Oh, God! I just killed my babies! and that's why I can't listen to the Polyphonic Spree!!!"
"Our troops just rolled into Baghdad... and that's why I can't listen to the Polyphonic Spree."
(Hers were better, but of course I can't remember them now. If you're out there, "Goomer," please supply some in comments!)
BumRuffo: what do you find in the middle of nowhere
BumRuffo: ?
teapot dynamo: dunno... what?
teapot dynamo: h?
BumRuffo: i dunno let me finish my popscicle
teapot dynamo: huh?
BumRuffo: its one of those jokes on the popsicle sticks
teapot dynamo: oh.
(turns out it *was* "h," after all.)
I had the most bizarre dream this morning, complete with its own punch line.
Picture this:
H.J. and I, along with a group of 20-30 other young New Yorkers, get captured by terrorists somewhere on 1st Avenue. We're shoved into a room and arranged into four rows. The terrorists (whom I never actually see in the dream, although I'm aware of their presence) hand the first row white head coverings and yell for them to put them on their heads. It becomes clear that we're all going to die, and painfully.A tall, spiky-haired 20-something guy in the third row turns to a girl in the fourth row and says:
"Well, Amy, I guess your pretentious column won't be coming out this week."
End of dream. I didn't know whether to be scared or laugh.
After a very difficult and deeply self-loathing weekend, I will probably not be posting for at least a few days. I'll return to regularly-scheduled blogging as soon as possible.
I am seriously contemplating taking a bellydancing class.
...But Me Body Will Never Be The Same.
(That Prince lyric has always reminded me of a Sex Pirate. Arrrrrrgh-gasm!)
I have somehow avoided writing about Tuesday night's Prince show, probably for the same reason I don't like to talk about movies/shows/plays/etc. before leaving the venue. "Recollected in tranquillity" and all that. However, I'm finally ready to say it: They just don't make 'em like Prince anymore.
The man does everything -- dances, sings, raps, plays guitar, cracks jokes -- and all of it well. Despite my wariness of arena shows (the only ones I've seen were on the Achtung Baby tour), Prince is the kind of performer who can pull them off because of his sheer energy and competence. I'm not exaggerating when I say that, at several points during the show, I didn't see one person sitting down.
In the middle of the show, he did an acoustic set that was far and away the best part. Seated on a chair, he rose up out of the floor ("pimp and circumstance," indeed!) holding his guitar and singing, "I guess I should've known/by the way you parked your car sideways..." to which the crowd went crazy. As he alternated with the crowd on parts of songs, the venue felt absolutely intimate, as if he were singing just for each and every person there.
The real mystery of Prince, however, has been said many times before but bears repeating. How can a wee 5'4, heels-wearing, hairy, freaky-ass guy of ambiguous sexuality have every female in the room ready to oblige at the words, "Say my name"? At several points during the show, especially during the acoustic set, I would involuntarily emit a desperate little gasp, at which H.J. would turn to see my hands clasped like in prayer, eyes moony, mouth agape.
The other parts of the show were more energetic, with lots of dancing, drum solos, crazy costumes, and women from the crowd brought up to dance on stage. My highlight among these portions of the show was "DMSR," which really distills what Prince is all about -- Dance, Music, Sex, Romance (and, apparently, Jehovah's Witnessism, but that's not quite as fun).
I must stop this before I sound like the raging fangirl I really am.
Three disgusting things I've seen on the sidewalks of NY:
A smushed huge-ass rat (near Wall Street. Heh.)
Glass Starbucks Frappucino bottle filled with urine (hey, Big Spender!)
A bag o’diarrhea (TWO of these, both in my neighborhood. Paper or plastic, you may ask? One of each.)
I recently read this article in Slate on Mozilla Firefox, an alternative browser to Internet Explorer. I was skeptical, but now I have to say... it's great. Its best features is something called "Tabbed Browsing" that's much more natural than continually opening up new windows. It puts tabs at the top like in Microsoft dialog boxes, so it's easy to switch between the sites you have open.
It just strikes me more than ever, after also having installed ITunes (which rules), that Microsoft makes annoying software. It's not that their software doesn't work at all, it's just that they don't seem to think about the aesthetics or the experience of computing at all when they design software.
Ok, end of nerd post (oh, but there will be more, my friends. Many, many more). Carry on.
I know the cool kids will probably slam the fuck out of her, but I love this interview with Rachel Elder on Gothamist. And I thought I was the only one wondering how VH1 has the balls to manufacture 90s nostalgia!
I also loved her Bust (slash Black Table) article about Wimpsters (although I must confess a serious weakness for the w(h)impster, myself).
The other rockin' Rachel is RKB, who did some three-word catchups of her own. Shh... don't tell her that I do posts like that (instead of the ones where she, you know, actually *writes*) because I'm Lay-Zee.
(In my head today, from "Pink Bullets," by the Shins. Apropos of nothing.)
Cool of a temperate breeze from dark skies to wet grass
We fell in a field it seems now a thousand summers passed
When our kite lines first crossed
We tied them into knots
And to finally fly apart
We had to cut them off.
Since then it's been a book you read in reverse
So you understand less as the page is turned
Or a movie so crass
And awkardly cast
That even I could be the star.
I don't look back as much as a rule
And all this way before murder was cool
But your memory is here and I'd like it to stay
Warm light on a winter day.
Probably of no interest to anyone but me, but Paula Danziger, author of young adult novels The Cat Ate My Gymsuit, The Pistachio Prescription, Can You Sue Your Parents for Malpractice?, and others, has died [Thx, Old Hag].
Because my evangelical Christian parents wouldn't let me keep the Judy Blume books someone gave me as a Christmas present (no, I'm not bitter about this any more, right?), I read Danziger instead. Her books were usually about girls who didn't really fit in but who ended up finding a niche of some kind (like English class! or student government! Mmmm nerds!)
Good stuff, and I'm sad that she's died. Wonder if they have any of these at the NYPL?
Anniversary. 8. Tomorrow.
Prince. Also. Tomorrow.
Getting. Laid. Assuredly.
Gym. Steady. Progress.
Arms. Stronger. "Guns."
Friday. Potnoys. Purposeful.
Work. Slow. Frustrating.
Sun. Sand. Elsewhere.
Loudest. Fan. Hemisphere.
Em. Tob. Missed.
Peers. Having. Babies.
More. Later. Out.
(If you didn't you wouldn't be be be in here)
Now if you're from Uptown, Brooklyn-bound
the Bronx, Queens, or Long Island Sound
Even other states come right and exact
It ain't where you're from, it's where you're at
Not much time to write, but I have to say: Spider-Man 2 was GREAT. Not just action-movie great, but movie-movie great. Now, I know my discernment may be somewhat clouded by the fact that I'm in LOVE with Tobey Maguire, but I thought S-M 2 was a) better than S-M 1; b) funny AND smart AND visually stunning; c) about New York in a very personal way; d) touching; and e) re-watchable. I loved the "reluctant hero" theme that Buffy rode to success, paralleled with the "reluctant villain." Good stuff.
Me likey Tobey, and I have since Wonder Boys (of course it wasn't as good as the book, but still). I do feel somewhat ambivalent about my raging cliffy for this guy, since my friend Emily once announced that she had been told and personally believes that she looks like him. Incidentally, she does, but it's different in female form (right?). I love you, Em, but not the carnal way I love T MagG. I blame the deep-set eyes and the fact that he always seems on the verge of nerdiness.
Also saw Control Room -- the thinking man's F 9/11, and The Terminal. I beg mercy on this last one, because went to see it solely to sit in air conditioning for two hours. It was either that or Dodgeball, and I don't think I could possibly be stoned enough to make D-ball bearable. And actually, The Terminal, though schlocky/Spielbergy as it could be, wasn't that terrible, thanks only to Tom Hanks.
That's all for now.
My secret enclave has been discovered. Does this mean that I'm going to have to start doing *good* posts on here for a change?
Funny, I was just talking to H.J. last night about how I can just never decide what I want to do with my [mostly] super-secret hideout. I don't really want to write journal-type entries like Lusty Lady, because, unlike hers, my daily exploits--while personally satisfying, mind you--would not make that interesting a read. Anything even reasonably good I post over at the main page. So, I guess that leaves Teapot Dome with something like my current crop of self-absorbed, infrequent, and whiplash-inducingly miscellaneous (my high school transformational grammar teacher is crying somewhere) posts.
That said, I am considering a redesign. Yeah, that'll fix it. A redesign! Pretty colors, improved functionality, and 15% more cheese. (When all else fails, add more cheese.)
In the meantime, if you are reading this because Maud sent you here (Thanks, Maud!), these are some of my favorite posts on TD:
The Workin' Hard Montage of the Lonely Telecommuter
Ten Sublimely Sad Songs
The Indians Sell Manhattan: A Story in Pictures
Memorable Falls
Funniest Work Moment Ever and the companion post, What Would Freud Say, Indeed
And at the main page:
The Nineteenth Century Introvert's Guide to Friendship and The Twenty-First Century Introvert's Guide to Friendship
City Mouse Explains Friendster to Country Mice
An Open Letter to America's Pizza Retailers
Marginalia
